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aliahm · 2 years

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Summary: After stress and frustration have left you feeling broken, you find yourself being comforted by a demon. You know you’re dreaming, but you soon realize that he’s giving you an opportunity to be with him, somewhere between dreams and reality. (Fluff, and some angst)

Warnings: Descriptions of stress, mentions of church and religion (very brief, and the reader is not religious in this story), negative thoughts, emotionally insecure reader, crying, pet names, kissing

If I’ve left out any content warnings or made any mistakes writing for a gender neutral reader, please let me know, so I can correct them, and make this story as inclusive as possible.

(The moodboard and divider were created by me, using images and gifs found on Tumblr, Twitter, Pinterest and Google, and the gif and picture within the story are from here on Tumblr as well. Full credit for these images and gifs goes to the owners).

You were almost relieved when you finally made your way to your bed that night. You had immediately buried your face in your pillow and then, after having put up with what felt like an endless loop of malevolent thoughts and feelings swirling around inside your head and attacking you relentlessly and viciously, you finally let the tears escape your eyes.

Your strained sobs filled the darkness of your bedroom, and the last thing you remember thinking before you drifted out of consciousness for the night was that you wished you didn’t have to be alone while you felt this way.

The next thing you knew, there were arms wrapped around your waist, as someone behind you rested their chin on your shoulder.

“Aww, what’s wrong sweetheart?” a voice cooed in your ear.

You jumped, turning around immediately, and you were met with someone you had never seen before. He was tall, slim, and had coppery red hair. Your eyes drifted downwards and you saw that he was wearing a grey shirt and scarf, with a black jacket and vest, as well as matching black trousers and shoes. Your gaze snapped back up to his face and you gasped softly.

His eyes were a bright, golden yellow, with narrow slits in the centre of each one. They were like nothing you had ever seen, and they were beautiful.

“Shh, it’s alright. There’s nothing to be afraid of” he purred, rubbing his hand over your hip in small circles.

There was a gentle, concerned look in those eyes, and after all the stress you had been through, it apparently didn’t matter that you had never met him, you didn’t know his name, not even that you could feel in your mind that this was all a dream. His attention was on you. You weren’t alone anymore.

You tried to take a deep breath, but all that left your lips was a whimper. Then you were suddenly clinging to his jacket, while you hid your face in his chest. You could feel your tears soaking his clothes, as you held on to to him desperately, as though being near him would make everything better.

“Oh, darling”

He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back soothingly. “You can cry to me, I’ve got you. You have nothing to be ashamed of”.

Hearing his words, having someone tell you that it was okay to let your feelings out, somehow seemed to make you even more aware of it all. All the thoughts, the emotions, the frustration, the fear.

You cried as though you were trying to force all the pain you were feeling out of you, and he held you the entire time, hushing you softly. After what felt like a long time, your sobs had stopped and your breathing was shallow as you tried to regain your composure.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Come back to me.” He whispered, running his hand up and down your side.

When you had gotten your breathing under control, you let go of his jacket and looked at him once again. “What am I doing?” You asked, both because you were embarrassed and because this felt different from your other dreams, yet you didn’t know why.

“What d’you you mean?” He asked, brushing tear tracks off your face with his thumb.

“I know I’m dreaming, that none of this is actually happening. It’s not real”. You stated, though there was some disappointment in your voice that you tried to pretend you didn’t hear.

“You’re right, this is a dream. Your dream, but it’s happening, right now. You’re in control of everything you do here”.

“Where is here? What’s going on?” you questioned him, as you stepped back and began looking around. The first thing you noticed was an ornate gold and red throne in the centre of the room. The only other furniture was a grand, golden desk, the top of which looked to be made of deep red marble.

“Come over here. I’ll explain everything.” he suggested, offering you his hand. He led you over to the desk and picked you up, placing you so that you sat on the end that was closest to the throne, with your legs dangling off the edge. He sat with one of his hands resting on the expertly carved armrest, and the other draped across his leg.

Looking at him in that moment, you realized that this room seemed to mirror his appearance in some ways. The hard lines and dark interior were reminiscent of his perfectly tailored clothing, but then, as your eyes drifted back upwards, to his golden ones that seemed to hold fire within them, you thought that he looked as though he belonged on that throne, like it was made for him. There was no question about it. This was his domain, and here, he was in charge.

“How is this happening?” You asked him again. “Who are you?”

He told you his name was Crowley, and that he was a demon. That revelation gave you pause, to say the least.

“A demon?” You repeated, feeling an incredulous grin lift the corners of your lips.

“I take it you’re not the religious type, love. No churchgoer I’ve ever heard of would be beaming the way you are after finding out they’re in the same room as one of my lot”.

An amused laugh left your lips before you replied, “You’re right, I’m not religious, but I’ve been fascinated by demons for a long time”.

(You saw his lips curl into a smirk at that statement).

“I’ve never actually believed in them though”.

“To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t blame you if you still didn’t, but for what it’s worth, demons, angels, ‘the powers that be’,” he drawled, with a bit of an amused scoff in his voice on the last one. “It’s all as real as you are”.

“Normally I’d roll my eyes and probably laugh in the morning at the nonsense my brain came up with, but,”

You looked into his eyes, then you examined the room once again, focusing on the incredibly high ceilings for a moment, before continuing slowly and thoughtfully.

“This feels too real. As silly as this sounds, just looking at you I can tell that, whatever this is, it’s not like any dream I’ve ever had”.

He smiled. “Honey, you’ve got no idea”.

The eye roll you had mentioned made an appearance at that comment, but the corner of your lips twitched up into a smirk that was all amusement and curiosity.

“Exactly. I don’t, so why don’t you tell me what you’re doing in one of my dreams, and how this all works in the first place”.

His playful expression became more gentle and the fiery glow in his eyes seemed deeper now.

“Do you remember the last thing you thought before you fell asleep tonight?”

You froze for a moment. “I- yes”. You replied, as the tightness you had felt in your throat earlier returned.

“What was it?” He prompted, though there was no demanding or mocking tone in his voice. He spoke softly and waited patiently for you to answer him.

“I wished I wasn’t alone”.

“Yes, you did,” he replied. There was a lightness in his words now, as though he was proud that you had told him the truth. “That’s why I’m here”.

“What?” You breathed. The very thought that he knew that made more unshed tears sting the back of your eyes.

“Come here sweetheart” he cooed, holding his hand out to you. You simply stared for a moment, wishing it wasn’t so painfully obvious how self-conscious you felt. “It’s alright, I promise.” He encouraged you, and after another moment of hesitation, you took his hand in yours and he guided you onto his lap.

“You’re here with me because I can be the one you come to when you’re upset. From now on, whenever you go to sleep, and you’re worried, or stressed, whenever something is bothering you, no matter what it is, if you want me, I’ll be here”.

You were silent for a bit, as you let his words sink in. You looked down at your hands as you remembered time after time that it had all become too much, and you would shame and insult yourself for feeling the way you did.

As if he could tell (which, if he knew your hope from earlier that night, he probably could), he drew lines across the back of your hand with his thumb, attempting to soothe your unease.

“Look at me”.

You looked up, but you didn’t think you could look him in the eye right then. Your gaze drifted to the side of his face, where you noticed a beautiful tattoo of a black snake, which you began tracing with your eyes. He gently turned your head so you were face to face and when he could tell you were focused on him, he told you:

“Wanting someone to be with you when things are difficult doesn’t make you weak. It takes strength to admit it, to yourself or anyone else. I know you can handle so much on your own, and you know it too, but that doesn’t mean that the times you can’t are times that you’ve failed”.

He wasn’t telling you anything you didn’t already know, but you had never actually believed that, no matter how much you had always tried to.

“I just- I always feel like something is wrong with me”.

“No darling, there’s nothing wrong with you. That’s the truth,” he insisted, “and you’re the one who needs to believe it, but it’s okay to want to hear it from someone else.”

“Do you really want to do this? What would you get out of it anyway?” you wondered. You just couldn’t believe that he, that anyone, would want to be there every time you felt like the world was about to end.

“I get to be with you”.

“Why would you want that in the first place?”

“What kind of a question is that?” he asked, seeming more taken aback by your words than anything.

“I mean, look at right now. Why would you want to be with me every time this happens? There are who knows how many things that make me want to cry, or scream, every day. Why would you want to deal with that? I don’t even want to deal with it”.

“We both know that you don’t feel that way all the time, love, even though you feel like you do”. His tone remained just as kind as it had been this entire time, but in that moment, it left no room for argument.

“Listen to me, even if you come to me every day and night and tell me every single thing that’s on your mind, I won’t ever grow tired of you, or think of you as anything other than the strong, wonderful person that you are”.

You had been hanging on to his every word, but once again you couldn’t look at him. Still, what he had said was beginning to get through to you, and it meant more than you felt like you could explain.

“Do you really mean that?” you asked him, hoping to do away with the disbelief that still clawed at the corners of your mind.

“I mean it. All of it”. he answered without hesitation.

Your eyes found his again and you were amazed that you’d managed not to cry. “I don’t know what to say”.

“It’s a yes or a no, love. Whatever you want, that’s what you’ll get.” He assured you, his thumb tracing your face in the spot where he’d brushed away your tears earlier.

You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling of his hand against your skin.

“Yes. This is what I want”. You answered, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He held you the same way he had done earlier that night as he whispered, “Then I’ll be here for you, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you”.

You looked up at him after a moment, replaying all the events of the night in your mind. He had offered you what you had been hoping for for as long as you could remember, and although you tried to stop yourself, you wondered what you had done to deserve it.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he hummed, studying your thoughtful expression.

You had told him that this is what you wanted, and in that moment, you were doing your best to accept how true that really was. You wanted to be with him. You wanted his attention, his reassurance, his affection.

“I- well,” you began, attempting to still your trembling hands.

You had wanted to keep your eyes on his, but they involuntarily flickered down to his lips as you tried to tell him what you were thinking, and he noticed immediately.

He sensed your apprehension, and without hesitation, he told you, “If you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask”.

Your face burned as you paused for a moment before explaining, “It’s just- I feel like anything I ask of you would be something you do just to make me feel better. Would you actually want to kiss me?”

“Sweetheart, everything I do when I’m here with you, is because it’s what I choose to do. Because it’s what I want. Yes, I want to kiss you, and I will whenever you want me to, but I need to hear it from you”.

You repeated his words in your mind and once you felt ready, you nodded. “Okay.” you replied, trying to cast aside the last of your hesitation. “Could you kiss me?”

His expression melted into a sweet smile and he ran his thumb across your lower lip. “I knew you could do it”.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, placing his hand on the side of your face, and you felt him grin against your lips when you kissed him back. You let him take the lead, and he was gentle and patient with you the entire time. Just before you pulled away from each other, he nipped softly at your lower lip. He laughed faintly at your surprised gasp, then he pecked your lips once again.

You smiled bashfully at him before laying your head on his shoulder, and the two of you stayed that way for a while, just relaxing together. You thought about what your dreams could be like from that point on, while Crowley admired the peaceful look on your face, as you toyed with his scarf.

Eventually you spoke again. “How long do I get to stay with you?”

“Any time you go to sleep, as long as you want to come back, you’ll wind up here with me. You can leave whenever you’re ready, even if you’re not ready to wake up yet.” He explained. “Time doesn’t work the way that you’re used to around here”. He added with a mischievous grin.

“Why am I not surprised?” you replied, amusement lacing your words.

“There’s only one thing I need from you”.

What would a demon with the power to combine dreams and reality ask in return for his affection? You realized, as you anticipated his request, that you were essentially living what could be the plot of a gothic novel.

That somehow felt right to you.

You looked up at him, and he told you, “I need you to always be completely honest with me about whatever you’re feeling. Even if it’s difficult to say, I need you to tell me”.

You wished that that was as simple as it sounded.

He placed his hand on the side of your jaw. “I’m not going to judge you. You don’t have to hide anything from me”. He reassured you, as you leaned into his touch.

“Will you do that for me?”

You were silent for a moment, picturing what that might be like.

“I need to hear it, darling. Just like before”.

You took a deep breath, then you nodded. “I will”.

“Good”.

With that, he pulled you closer to him and kissed you deeply.

“You’ve had a long day, and a long night, for that matter. Do you want to stay here or do you feel like being by yourself for a while?”

“I want to stay here. I’ve only just met you, after all. I want to know more”. You told him.

“About?”

“All of this. About you, about this place, about demons, whatever you can tell me”.

“Well,” he began, his lips tilted upwards into a smirk and there was a glint in his eyes that told you he was someone who had many, many stories to tell. “Where do I begin?” He sighed, though it was obvious that he knew exactly what he wanted to say next.

“Ah, I know.” He grinned.

He snapped his fingers and suddenly a book that had been next to a pair of sunglasses on his desk, “The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy”, opened, and some of the pages zipped out and began drifting through the air. An awestruck, soundless gasp left your lips as he reached up and took hold of a textless one that displayed a nebula, holding it so you could both see.

“See that? I helped build it”.

“You what?” You were still wide eyed and slack jawed.

He pointed to a particular area of the nebula and said, “There? All me”.

“Beautiful.” you breathed, and he beamed at the way your eyes were sparkling.

“Wait a minute. You helped create the stars?”

“That I did”.

“How old are you?”

You hadn’t meant to come off as rude or insulting, but when you heard yourself, your face instantly heated up and your gaze snapped down to your lap.

Thankfully an airy laugh drifted from his lips in response and he leaned down so his forehead was against yours.

“Oh, honey”.

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“I’ll give you a hint,” He began, motioning for you to stand. You did, and he did the same, before leading you over to the framed sketch on the wall at the back of the room. The Mona Lisa.

He stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder once again. “This is stunning”. You mused, having always loved art.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“No, I wish I did”.

He gestured to the inscription: “Al mio amico Antonio dal tuo amico Leo da V.”

“That says, “To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V.””

“Anthony? Is that your first name?” You asked him, smiling.

“Not literally, no. I made it up. Helps to have one when you’re a demon among humans”.

“Anthony Crowley?” You hummed amusedly. “I like it”. He rolled his eyes at that, his smile mirroring yours.

“Are you telling me you knew Leonardo da Vinci?”

“According to him, her husband-“ he told you, nodding towards Lisa Gherardini, “had a few things to say about the final painting”.

Incredulous laughter bubbled from your lips. “Where else have you been?”

“Where haven’t I been? I suppose it’s cause I’ve been around since the beginning”.

“The beginning?” You repeated, wondering if he meant what you thought he did.

“I know you’re not religious, but you’ve more than likely heard this one before-“.

Link to Part Two here:

#good omens crowley x reader #crowley x reader #crowley fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #anthony crowley x reader #good omens crowley x gender neutral reader #crowley x gender neutral reader

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danniburgh · 3 years

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Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary: His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,” you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I’m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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solinarimoon · 3 years

Text

Fields of Wildflowers

Chapter 14

A Sihtric x OC story

AN: We’re coming to the close of this story. There will be one more chapter after this. I may do a few more one-shots with Cwen and Sihtric and depending on how season 5 plays out I may continue their story further. Thanks for reading everyone! Moodboard made by the wonderful @serasvictoria

Previous chapters here

My masterlist

Warnings: Canon style battle imagery, trauma response from previous abuses, I believe that is all

Word Count: 4,217

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cwen ran through the streets of Winchester until she reached the back entrance to the kitchens. Stopping in the doorway, she quickly scanned the room for any sign of Eadith. Cwen did not spy the fiery headed woman in the main kitchen and she was nowhere to be found in the halls most closely surrounding the kitchens either. Cwen had no idea how much time had passed since she left to bring Storria her food. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Quickly, Cwen made her way back to the kitchens, seeking out Frig.

Spying her near the stove, forming loaves for the next day's bread, she swiftly walked over to the large woman.

“Frig, do you know where Eadith is?”

“Who’s Eadith, girl? You think I know your names?” Frig was tall and wide. Cwen would have wagered she would make an intimidating opponent in a battle. She certainly commanded attention and obedience in the kitchens.

But Cwen did not let the woman’s gruff demeanour stall her search.

“She’s my friend. The redhead.”

“Oh, her. I sent her with rations for the prisoners. Come to think on it, she should probably be back by now. She left close after you did. Now wait here, girl…” but Cwen wasn’t listening as Frig called after her. She raced out of the kitchen and along the corridor towards the chapel, eyes scanning everywhere for any sign of Eadith.

When she reached the chapel, she rapped her palm on the heavy wooden door and whispered loudly through the window for Lady Aelswith before trying to slow the hammering in her chest and catch her breath.

She gasped, realizing that she still had Eardwulf’s blood staining her hands. Glancing down at herself, there were traces of his blood all over her clothes. The sight brought back the panic and Cwen felt her breathing becoming erratic once again.

“Cwen,” a voice broke through her thoughts, “Cwen, what is it?”

She shook her head and realized Lady Aelswith had made it over to the door and was trying to get her attention.

“Cwen, dear, you’re trembling. What has happened?”

Cwen stared through the bars of the window in the door for a moment before speaking, her mouth dry.

“I...I’ve killed Eardwulf,” Aelswith’s eyes snapped up to meet Cwen’s face, shocked at her admission. Cwen continued, her words coming out in rushed breaths, “He was trying to force the King’s hand to act. And… and Sigtryggr was there.. He knows I am here as a spy, but… he let me go to find Eadith.”

“The boys, Aethelstan, Sigtrygr took them. Did you see them, Cwen?” Aelswith’s voice was strained, trying to remain composed but clearly she was worried about the boys.

“I did. They were with him. He’s...,” Cwen struggled to find a way to describe her encounter with the man who was responsible for taking Winchester from the hands of Saxons. “He does not want to harm them. He told me so. I tried to keep them with me, but…,” Cwen paused and looked into Aelswith’s eyes, urging her to believe her, “I believe he truly does not want to harm them. Or any of us, if he can avoid it.”

Aelswith didn’t reply, but neither did her face hold to typical rebuke and scorn that Cwen would have expected.

Shaking her head, Cwen asked, “Eadith? Did you see Eadith? She should have brought you food, but she has not returned to the kitchen.”

“She hasn’t been here,” Lady Aelswith sighed.

Cwen felt a tingling sense of dread creep back up her fingertips and into her chest. She took a shaky breath and grasped Lady Aelswith’s hand around the bars in the window.

“I need to keep looking for her.”

“I know. Be safe, Cwen.”

Cwen turned and marched back the way she had come, sneaking past the kitchen and into the courtyard.

Thinking Eadith may have heard about the events on the ramparts, she headed back towards the Eastern gate to be met with a startling sight.

Lord Uhtred was being ushered in through the gate behind a self-satisfied looking Sigtryggr.

Cwen started forward towards her friend, but slowed to look at Sigtryggr. Silently, he gave her the slightest of nods before she sped forward to embrace Uhtred.

Speaking into Cwen’s hair, she heard Uhtred’s muffled voice, “You are alright? Let me see you.” He stepped back to take in her appearance, her blood stained clothes and hands. Uhtred took her chin in his hand and turned her so he could better look at her face, scowling at the scratches along her brow from where Eardwulf had pressed her bodily into the stone of the parapet.

Ignoring Uhtred’s hardened stare, Cwen spoke to both Sigtryggr and Uhtred in turn, “The boys? Athelstan. Are they alright?”

Before Uhtred could speak, Sigtryggr’s voice answered her concerns, firm yet gentle.

“Both children are back in their father’s embrace. Your Lord, the Dane Slayer has traded himself willingly for their release,” he folded his hands behind his back, stepped closer to speak in a lowerer tone, and added, “It would seem the gods saw fit to indulge my wish to see them unharmed.” The man stepped back now, meeting Cwen’s eye.

Uhtred watched the exchange silently, before addressing Sigtryggr.

“The boys are unharmed, but what about Cwen? Look at her face, her hands and clothes. Is this how women are to be treated in your Winchester?”

“Cwen has the heart of a survivor. Not a battle warrior perhaps, but she is strong. Aside from the scratches, the blood belongs to her enemy. A man lower than a snake,” Sigtryggr spoke with that same calm, yet commanding voice.

“That enemy was your ally,” Uhtred’s voice grew louder, etched with concern and irritation over how Cwen had been treated.

Now it was Cwen’s turn to speak, cutting off Sigtryggr's reply and trying to still the rising tension.

“I was offered care and a chance to clean up, but I refused. I needed to find Eadith.”

“And where is she?” Uhtred questioned, only then turning his studying gaze from Sigtryggr to Cwen once more.

“I do not know,” her voice was desperate and wavering, “ I was coming here to look for her. She should have brought food to Lady Aelswith, but she never made it there.”

Cwen held her fingers up to her lips, turning to scan the streets, looking for any sign of Eadith. Her breaths began to quicken once more and she turned round, wide eyed to look at Uhtred.

“I am sure she is alright, Cwen.”

“You can not know that,” Cwen cut him off.

“Excuse me, both of you,” Sigtryggr interjected, “but Uhtred must come with me. We did not allow you into the city to go on a goose hunt. You are here to meet and discuss with me.”

“Sigtryggr is right,” Uhtred agreed, cutting Cwen off before she could protest further. But turning to face Sigtryggr, his voice leaving no room for argument, “but Cwen will come with us. I will not risk another I care for being vulnerable in this city.”

“As you wish,” Sigtryggr acquiesced with a nod, then turned on his heel to walk back towards the palace, clearly expecting Uhtred and Cwen to follow him.

Alarm and panic lacing her voice, Cwen protested giving up the search for Eadith.

Uhtred took hold of her arm and began to escort her alongside him, “Winchester is large and I will not have you look in the streets alone. His lord or not, Sihtric would have my head.”

Cwen paused, gently pulling her arm back to stop Uhtred from moving further.

“My Lord, how is he?” Her words were small, anxious.

Uhtred bowed his head before looking up and taking in Cwen’s concerned expression.

“Sihtric is in agony, Cwen. The man has done nothing but fret since you left his sight, walking into the city,” Uhtred paused. His grip on her arm loosened and moved to squeeze her shoulder in comfort, “Seeing you up there has nearly broken him. He will fight every man here, Saxon or Dane, to see you back in his arms.”

Tears welled in Cwen’s eyes as she listened to Uhtred’s words. She reached her hand up to hold Uhtred’s arm on hers. Sniffling, she wiped a stray tear away.

“Come along, Dane Slayer.” Sigtryggr’s voice brought an irritated sigh from Uhtred as he and Cwen resumed their path.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cwen lifted her head groggily and sat up from the bench she had been resting on.

After arriving in the throne room, Uhtred and Sigtryggr had commenced to fight, throw insults, and banter back and forth before coming to common ground. The rest of the night consisted of developing plans to help formulate negotiations and division of lands.

It would seem Sigtryggr really did wish to be a better man than his forebears. He wanted only land and a chance for his people to thrive. A chance to prosper.

At some point, a woman had brought them food and Cwen had asked for some water to wash the blood from her hands and clean up her face.

Feeling slightly less soiled, she had laid down upon a bench pushed against the side of the hall. Almost immediately, she had felt the exhaustion of the day's events wash over her. Her body and mind were fatigued, both in equal measure.

Fretful, Cwen succumbed to sleep. But her mind was not fit for restful slumber. Flashes of images raged across her dreams.

Eardwulf’s face as blood pooled out of his mouth, his eyes full of shock and anger.

Feet, her own - she could not tell - running along city streets, turning this way and that.

Her hands clinging to a dazed Aethelstan. Still flecked with dried blood, they moved to cover the child’s eyes.

And Sihtric. His eyes. Watching her, his face stoic and careworn. Those eyes that covered her like a gentle blanket, usually full of care and comfort. Now shifting as his face broke into screams, cries filled with torment and sorrow.

Slowly, Cwen felt herself relax back into wakefulness. Her heart, along with her limbs, felt heavy. Leaden. As if she had not slept at all. The images from her mind continued to play over.

Only the knocking on the great oak doors just moments before had awoken her.

Still dazed from sleep, Cwen stood to walk over to Uhtred’s side, her hands running over her face, trying to erase her dreams..

Lord Uhtred stood bent over, his fists resting against the long table scattered with maps and documents.

“I am glad you were able to rest.”

“My body betrayed me. It was not a conscious decision,” Cwen voiced, “Nor would I consider it restful.”

Uhtred turned to look at the woman, placing a comforting hand on her back.

Cwen offered him a small smile before looking down to the maps. She reached out a hand, absentmindedly tracing the length of some river.

At that moment, Sigtryggr returned with news from his guards. Edward had attacked the city and would soon breach the walls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Urgently, Sigtryggr, Uhtred, and Cwen moved along the hallways of the palace and out into the courtyard, followed closely by several of Sigtryggr’s oathmen.

The city gates had already been breached and Saxon warriors were flowing into the courtyard to be met with the shield and swords of the Danes scrambling from all corners of the city to join the fray. The clamor of battle, swords and axes crashing against shields, men screaming and yelling with battle lust was deafening.

Cwen was met with Uhtred’s arm pushing her to stand behind him while he pleaded with Sigtryggr.

Frantically, Cwen scanned the crowd searching for Sihtric. Or anyone of her companions. But the scene was utter chaos. All she could make out was blurs of bodies whirling and clashing in a bloody dance.

Cwen’s attention was snapped back to the men in front of her as she heard Sigtryggr order one of his men to kill Uhtred if he should harm any Danes.

Next thing she was aware of, Cwen was thrust aside by large hands as Uhtred and Sigtryggr’s man began stalking their way through the fight towards King Edward.

Cwen righted herself and continued to search the crowd, looking for him. She watched the chaos as Sigtryggr prowled like a wolf on the steps beside her.

Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt the clash and reverberation of the fight in front of her ringing in her ears. The adrenaline and fear pulsed out along her limbs as she felt the grip of panic racing through her blood.

She winced when Sigtryggr called for the shield wall to be formed.

His cry lost amongst the din of the violence, Cwen covered her ears instinctively and watched while a horn blower signaled the shield wall and Sigtryggr called once more, his voice now louder and impassioned.

She saw as Edward raised his sword arm and called for Saxon’s to form the wall as well.

It felt like time slowed as Cwen watched the melee stop and the shields form the barrier along both sides of the fight.

A man stepped out from the Saxon line reaching towards something on the ground. It was Finan. Cwen watched as he stooped to pick up a figure. She recognized Eadith’s red hair and gasped as she watched men part for Finan to retreat carrying her limp body.

Then there he was, closing the hole after Finan, beside Osferth.

Cwen grasped onto Sigtryggr’s arm, from behind where he had stepped in front of her protectively.

He turned and observed her gaze, locked onto Sihtric.

“It is your man?” Sigtryggr questioned.

Not daring to take her eyes from him, Cwen gave the slightest nod.

“Come with me,” he instructed as he began moving down the stairs, Cwen continuing to hold onto his arm as they moved through the warriors.

“You will let us pass,” Sigtryggr commanded his men who shuffled out of their way to form a slender path.

Breaking through into the clearing between the shields, he saw her. His face was a mask of fierce battle rage, but his eyes softened when they met Cwen’s.

He took a step forward, pulled to reach her, before Osferth’s sword arm blocked his way.

Cwen still stood slightly behind Sigtryggr grasping his arm.

The man looked back to her, “Go,” he said. Cwen dragged her eyes away from Sihtric to glance at Sigtryggr. He nodded his head in the direction of the Saxons, towards Sihtric, “Go on.”

And the next instant, Cwen was rushing into Sihtric’s arms, crashing into him.

Still prepared for a fight, Sihtric stepped to the side, bringing her around himself, saying, “Behind me, Cwen. Stay behind me.”

He kept her arm in his grasp as she stood behind his right side, hands grasping at him, clinging to his armor.

Cwen felt him pull her hand up to his mouth, pressing a firm kiss against her knuckles and squeezing. His hand still gripped his axe as well and the feel of the wood crushed against her fingers was bruising. But it did not matter. Being back where she could find his grounding touch, Cwen felt her world right itself finally.

She pressed herself firmly against his back. Peering around his shoulder, she could see Edward and Aethelflaed had approached the center of the courtyard along with Uhtred. Sigtryggr and Edward stood staring at one another. The tension was thick as the leaders sized each other up.

Eventually, Edward and Aethelflaed agreed to enter the palace with Sigtryggr and begin negotiations.

Once the respective parties had shifted inside, the opposing armies slowly melted away to opposite portions of the city.

Cwen felt the tension slowly release in Sihtric’s shoulders as he lowered his shield and slid his axe into his belt.

She heard Osferth from somewhere nearby, questioning Sihtric. Cwen kept her eyes closed, hands fisted into his mail and leather, gripping anywhere she could find purchase.

“Where would Finan have taken Eadith?”

“Hild,” Sihtric replied, his voice low and husky, “likely, he took her to Hild.”

Without another word, the three moved along the streets passing other soldiers and frightened townsfolk milling about.

Sihtric’s arm never lost contact with Cwen, but his eye kept scanning and searching. Cwen imagined he was still on the watch for a fight, a threat. Or looking for Finan and Eadith. But she desperately yearned for his eyes to find her again.

After many twists and turns along wide streets, Cwen having no idea where they were leading, they stopped outside of a church.

Osferth only paused, noticing that Sihtric had stilled with Cwen.

Glancing between his two friends, Osferth’s lips twitched upwards into a small grin before he turned and continued up the steps and through the large oaken door.

Sihtric turned, taking Cwen’s arm in his hand and led her to the alley beside the church.

Once he turned the corner, he swept Cwen into his arms in a crushing embrace and lifted her off of the ground.

Cwen felt the seams of her composure that had been slowly unraveling rip apart. She threw her arms desperately around his shoulders as she buried her face against his neck. Strangled sobs overcame her and she started voicing incoherent apologies and fears.

Gently, Sihtric lowered her feet to the ground and ran his fingers soothingly through her tangled, chestnut hair, giving her the time to be broken.

Cwen pulled her face back from his body, her hands moving to rest along his jaw and bringing his forehead to rest against hers.

“It is alright, Cwen. I have you, now. I have you,” he chanted over and over.

In time, Cwen’s breathing slowed and her sobs ceased to wrack her entire body, to be replaced with still slightly shaky gasps.

She felt as Sihtric’s lips placed soft kisses on her forehead, down to her eyes, wiping away her tears.

Finally, his kiss found her lips. And she felt the world pause as they both melted into one another, his fingers tracing soothing lines where he cupped her neck.

When they pulled apart, Cwen met his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His lips pulled into a wide grin, but she continued before he could respond, “I do. I love you, Sihtric. And I am sorry for leaving with harsh words or feelings,” but it was Sihtric’s turn to hush her with a kiss.

When he pulled back, he made sure to look into her eyes before speaking.

“Do not apologize. What you have done takes courage. There are more ways to be strong and brave than by wielding a sword or an axe. I should not have spoken as I did. I was scared for you and let it cloud my mind and my words.”

“But you were right to be frightened,” Cwen interrupted him, “Eardwulf…” Her voice quivered when speaking his name, betraying her.

“Is dead, Cwen.” Sihtric took her face in both hands. “He can no longer harm you. You have freed yourself of him, my love.”

His eyes burned into Cwen’s own with such an intensity, she dropped her face to rest on his chest, overwhelmed.

“I was so afraid, Sihtric.”

She felt as Sihtric rested his chin on top of her head before he replied.

“Cwen, I have been in more battles than I can remember, escaped death.” he placed a kiss on the top of her head before he continued, “but I have never felt fear like that before.”

He pulled her back and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face so he could brush his thumb over the scratches and bruises forming along her cheek and brow.

“I was terrified that I would lose you. But you saved yourself. And we are together now.”

Cwen smiled at him, “I used your knife and what you taught me.”

Sihtric kissed her fiercely before he remarked, “When this is over, we will find time alone where I can love you. Where I can show my woman how she is cherished.”

Cwen felt heat rise in her cheeks. “You cherish me?” She questioned, leaning her face back towards him.

“I do, my lady,” he answered with a smirk before kissing her once more and chuckling as he felt Cwen hum against him deep in her throat.

“Do you think Osferth found them?” Cwen pondered when they finally broke apart.

Sihtric laughed, “He must have or he would have come and awkwardly interrupted us.”

Sihtric took her hand, leading her back towards the entrance of the church.

“Who is Hild?” she questioned.

Sihtric answered her as they walked, “A friend. An abbess. The first time I met her, she was sawing the head off a Dane.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cwen’s mouth was still hung open in shock when they entered the church to be approached by Osferth and an older woman with dirty blonde hair, dressed in the plain robes of the clergy.

“Cwen, this is Hild, a friend.” Osferth introduced the woman who took in Cwen’s expression and appearance.

“Was Sihtric just telling you of the first time we met? Trust me, it was not as bad as you imagine. The Dane was already dead.” Hild’s smile was genuine and caring. Osferth and Sihtric both laughed good naturedly at her jest.

Still smiling, Hild brought Sihtric in for a hug, “It is good to see you, Sihtric.”

“And you, Hild. Is Finan here?”

Hild answered him, while stepping back to stand by Osferth once more, “He is. And the lady, Eadith. I have patched her up as best I could.”

Cwen interrupted, concern lacing her voice, “will she be alright? Was she badly injured?”

“Not too badly. Some bruised and maybe broken ribs, but that is all. She needs rest, but will be fine,” Hild took hold of Cwen’s hand as she spoke, giving it a comforting squeeze, “would you like to see her?”

“I…” but Cwen hesitated.

Guessing the reason for her hesitation, Osferth interrupted, “She knows about Eardwulf, Cwen. She was more concerned with your well-being than with grief over her brother.” Cwen frowned and looked down at the floor for a moment before looking back to Hild, who gave her hand another comforting squeeze and nodded her head.

“Come on then. Follow me,” she said while releasing Cwen’s hand and turning to walk back the way they had come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They entered the room to find Eadith sitting up with some bandages wrapped around her torso. She was holding onto Finan for support to stand. Cwen noticed the care and concern etched in the Irish warrior’s face as he stood firm by her side.

She stopped short when Eadith looked up from the floor at their entrance. But Cwen did not have long to ponder any hard feelings Eadith might hold against her for killing her brother.

Eadith exclaimed, “Cwen, oh thank God,” as she reached out the arm not steadying herself on Finan, beckoning her friend towards her.

Cwen let out a little laugh, fighting back yet more tears as she closed the few steps between them and gingerly embraced Eadith before stepping back and taking her hand.

“You’re safe,” Finan interjected, placing a chase kiss to Cwen’s temple, never losing hold of Eadith’s waist.

“As are you,” Cwen commented nodding to Eadith, “I tried to find you after,” but the words died on her lips as she met her friend's eye.

To Cwen’s amazement, Eadith gave her a genial smile before she spoke.

“I lost the man I called my brother some time ago, Cwen. I am happy you are safe. Truly, my friend.”

Shaking her head to clear the emotions rushing to her face, Cwen took a breath before their reunion was interrupted by Hild, who cleared her throat before speaking.

“I can offer you all a bit of bread and may be able to find some cheese. It won’t be much, given the siege, but I know you must be hungry.”

Osferth replied for the group, “That would be lovely, Hild. Thank you. But we also should see if we can find out how things go with Lord Uhtred.”

The companions agreed some food would be best before Sihtric and Osferth would leave to find out how negotiations progressed.

Cwen tried to protest and go with them.

“I do not wish to be parted from you again,” she whispered as Sihtric took her aside by the arm.

“I know, Cwen. But you are exhausted. A moment ago you were almost asleep on your feet. Finan is staying to care for Eadith. You will not be alone. But you need rest.” Sihtric’s voice was low and soothing. His face close to hers and she felt the tenderness and concern in his words. “Let Hild care for your face and find you some clean clothes. I will come back to you as soon as I can.”

The idea of clean clothes and rest compelled Cwen more than she would have anticipated. But the weight of the past days events was still heavy on her and Sihtric was right, she needed the rest.

“Ok, but please don’t be away long.”

“I won’t, love. Believe me.” He kissed her softly before leaving with Osferth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#sihtric #sihtric x ofc #sihtric x OC #the last kingdom #fields of wildflowers #fanfiction #sihtric kjartansson #sigtryggr #osferth #uhtred #finan #arnas fedaravicius

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

Text

Present [Part 1] (Obsession)

A/N: Please don't copy, redistribute, and/or post my work on this site or any others. This has taken my time and creativity to come up with the story's characters and plot.

Also, I swear my writing gets better. It's a little rough right now but I'm planning on rewriting them.

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1943 ~ 6th year

No sound above whispers could be heard throughout the great hall. The food on the table hasn't been touched by a single hand. The very thought of eating churning all our stomachs. Not during these times. Our heads turn every now and then, afraid of what might sneak up behind us. The death of Myrtle and others has shaken the entire school. A murderer is among us, trust is such a foreign concept now.

Dark purple eye-bags lay beneath every single student's eyes. No one is allowed to go home for the holidays. They aren't allowing us to leave, we are stuck in this cloud of darkness and uncertainty. No owls are supposed to be sent out. As the head girl, I'm responsible for every student's life and responsibilities. I have to know where everyone is at all times. It gets tiring at times, but necessary nonetheless.

A nightly routine consisted of all my dormmates huddling around each other. No sleep would come to us all night. We wouldn't move from the same spot until light shown from the windows. Our beds are all pressed together in the farthest corner of the room from the door. Our wands never leaving our hands in case of danger. Every little sound made from the outside provoking us. Even to the point of going mad. Potions used to stay awake, slowly wearing off as the morning arose. No sleep, we can't afford that luxury anymore.

I would leave the dorm to wait at the portrait for our assigned house professor to come. They would tell me it was safe for everyone to head to the great hall to get breakfast. As soon as they were done I quickly went to everyone's dormitory to wake them up, if they even slept at all. I would then inform them that it was safe to step out of their dorms. After everyone got situated I would have the students form a line and lead them towards the great hall. 1st-3rd years would occasionally hold the folds of my robes. Fearing that when they blink I would be gone. Leaving them alone to deal with the dangers that lurk in the school.

Not once have I lied about how they are going to be all right. That would be cruel. These students don't seek pathetic nurturing words, they want a protective force watching over them. So many clubs and activities have been canceled. Hogsmede and quidditch proving as a prime example. No one complained though, quidditch players too afraid to even step out of the castle's walls even if they were allowed.

Back to the present, I hold my good friend's hand as she slightly shakes from anxiety. I can see it in her eyes, the doubt of making it alive eating away at her brain. The spark once present in her shiny green eyes being blown out. Amelia, her name being. She's been biting her nails again, to the point where it had bled. This can be backed by the dried-up blood that is present at the tip of her finger's nail.

A booming voice can be heard, "You are now being dismissed to head to class, your houses head girl and boy will be assigning the group you'll be heading off with."

First period has been removed from every perfect and head's schedule. During this time we search the whole castle for any wanders. We make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. If someone got lost or went to the wrong class we escort them to where they need to be.

After every class, students have a limited amount of time to get to their next lesson. Although, perfects and heads get more time to make sure everyone is where they are needed quickly. Then we hurry to our class after scanning the halls swiftly.

The once safest school of the wizarding world giving birth to the dark ages. More bodies have been found littering the schools. Most of them not found until their ghosts appear before us. Every single one not knowing how they died. Like the murderer is invisible upon meeting the victim. I originally suggested it could have been done by poison. When the bodies were checked, no traces of poison had been traced.

Professors have been waiting for the person who is responsible to slip up, to give us a clue. I don't think that will happen though. The process of these killings has been too thought out and well planned. I wouldn't be surprised if these mass killings have been planned months before, even maybe years. I've been talking to the ghosts to try and gather all details, even the potentially useless ones. When our headmaster made us heads keep tabs on everyone, the killings stopped for a short amount of time. It was like the mastermind was creating a way to best us, to get past the "little inconvenience." It didn't take long for them to find the weak parts in the plan.

What we have got though, is that every single student killed has been a muggle-born. A classic case of an unfair stigma around the poor wizards and witches. They never were able to catch a break. Amelia, one of my close friends in the friend group. She's a muggle-born, hence the shaking of her hands. I've been keeping a closer eye on her, she doesn't leave my side. She comes on my patrols so I can keep her in my sights, with of course the permission of the teachers. There are only two times that I can not watch over her. Those two times are covered by my other friend Devyn, a pure-blood. She also helps keep her safe, not letting her go anywhere by herself. The two times are because she's in two different classes than I am. One of them being a study hall.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

"Professor, how will this class help us now? Reading teacups for predictions should be the least of our worries right now," a student at the back of the room exclaims.

"The said predictions could lead us to the future before it happens. Our worries lay exactly what will happen in the future. If anything, this is one of the most important classes we'll take this year," I say, continuing to read the teacup.

"Precisely, thank you. Now go back to studying, I'll be coming around to view your interpretations."

My tea leaves look more like a blob with a cross going through them. A weirdly shaped blob. I already know there is a cross, but what about the blob? I tried shaking it a little, looking at the leaves from different angles. I already crossed off a club, falcon, and the sun. It could be an acorn, but I see a slight hole in the blob.

Could it be...

"A skull that is." I jump at the sudden voice near my ear. My teacup almost falling from my grasp.

"Pardon, a what?"

She points towards two holes in the blob, one of them I just mentioned, "I saw you already found one hole, there's the other. How it's shaped could be a little difficult to see since the cross is through it, but it's there."

The professor takes the cup from my hand and lays it on her desk. Some of my classmates look at me in curiosity, but they soon lose interest and go back to their own tea leaves.

A cross and a skull, that sounds about right to how my school year is going so far. I scan my book to see exactly what they mean.

A skull, danger in your path.

A cross, trials and suffering.

"What d-did you find?" A Hufflepuff boy to my right asks.

I don't want to scare the poor boy, he's already frightened enough as it is. If my future got around to the school, everyone would start being concerned about me. I'll barely get any of my duties done if I didn't already get it taken away for my safety. Last thing I need right now is even more panic.

"Nothing much, the future is still a little foggy."

"That's, um, good. I couldn't really read mine either," he chuckles lightly, almost seemingly forced.

Our professor claps her hands together, "Class is dismissed, read up about your predictions if you haven't already. No homework today."

I gather my books and push in my chair. Right before I could reach the door where other students are waiting, the teacher stops me.

"I'll have to tell the headmaster about this, I shouldn't keep it a secret."

"No, please don't. If you must, only tell Albus. I can't have this messing anything up, I'll become vulnerable."

The professor looks around the room, her eyes wandering franticly. I'm sure I am asking a lot from her. I really need her to keep this a secret.

"Oh alright, you're my best student. I just would hate to see anything happen to you. I'm informing only Albus to see if he can keep an eye on you."

"Thank you so much, I swear I'll be careful." A huge weight is lifted off my shoulders. I can't be worrying about my future when I have to worry about everyone else's.

I leave the classroom and start heading to my next class. Potions have always been one of my favorite classes. Mixing a bunch of toxins into a pot is a specialty of mine. I'm quickly scanning the halls for any wanderers, making sure everyone is at class. My feet take me to Potions in a hurry. I don't want to miss much, trying to make the class as informational as possible.

"You shouldn't be running, you still have 3 minutes of checking the school."

It's always him, I even tried changing routes to avoid him. His idiotic smirk, thinking he actually did something. All he did is waste my time and train of thought.

"I'm allowed to run Riddle, it's not a rule. I already checked the halls I was assigned, did you?" I really have no energy for this.

Tom peers down at me, somehow still wearing that infamous smile. Eyes bright, filled with mischief and knowledge.

"I have, double-checked as well. I'm sure you only checked once. Such irresponsible actions, I still wonder how you nabbed the head-girl spot."

I choose not to answer, not giving in to his baiting. Does he think I'm that stupid? That easily bothered by a simple test of my patience.

"You could have just said you wanted to walk me to class Riddle. No need to be shy with me."

"Shy, a concept I would not know of. Might as well bring you to class, since I'm heading there myself. Wouldn't want you to be in danger, since you consistently prove you can't handle a simple check of the hallways."

"I told you Tom-"

"Once is not enough, you should know that by now," he interrupts me, feigning a sudden serious facade on.

We start heading towards Slughorn's room. I'm a little behind his figure. Mostly looking down to make sure I don't step over his feet and fall. He sometimes walks with me, very confusing if I may say. Hating my skills, probably still hates me. You can often find us arguing if we are ever partners in class together. The usual game we play, how many questions can we get right by the end of class. Last time he won by one point, my sour mood not helping the atmosphere.

"You look rested, more than me at least," I smile tiredly. My whole body slightly sagging forward from exhaustion. He looks as proper as someone could be. His skin is a little pale though, brighter than usual. Almost like he was sick, his eyes look darker too. More sunken in, the shape of his skull more prominent. His looks still annoyingly well presented.

"Yes, you do look rather tired. I see other things have prioritized above your looks."

This man, the audacity of this man. The only reason I'm not at the top of every class. Our number 1 student count being evenly split. I have to bite down on my tongue forcefully to not say anything back. I'm too tired to truly come back with anything witty, so I choose to save myself from the embarrassment. Instead, I slightly step on his robe on the ground causing him to trip up a little.

He quickly sends a warning glare my way and then continues walking. I smile slightly, knowing even if it was petty, it was worth it.

Riddle doesn't even hold the door for me when we walk in. Causing it to slam dangerously close to my face.

"There you two are, I was afraid you weren't going to make it," Slughorn exclaims excitedly. "Turn your textbooks to page 246, we are going to learn how to make a Polyjuice potion!"

I glance at Tom, his eyes only focus on the words before him not realizing my gaze is on him. I wonder if he'll make this a competition as well. Knowing him, as well as me, anything but competition is out of our character. He looks up catching my eyes, I tilt my head. Trying to silently communicate from afar.

His head turns to Slughorn, then back to me. He nods his head and that's all it takes for both of us to come to an understanding. Whoever can answer the most questions, and create the best potion gets bragging rights.

I don't intend to lose.

#tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #lord voldemort #hogwarts #wizard #post wizarding war #enemies to allies #enemies to lovers #angst #oc #poc #Oc is any race #horcrux #moldy voldy

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

The Other Side of Hollywood

Part Eight: The Finale

Word Count: 8.6K+

Author’s Note: thank you for reading my nonsense. Tuly, thank you.

Warning: the usual.

If this is the first post you’ve seen, links to the rest of the story (+ masterlist and moodboard) are as follows:

- One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Masterlist - Moodboard -

Los Angeles, California. 1995.

“Good morning City of Angels, this is Josh Fern at 106.7, bringing you your daily dose of pop tunes and the week’s biggest hits! We’ve got your sunshine while the clouds stay over our hometown, though they should be gone by the weekend. The time is 6.31, and this is our fan favourite of this week, Waterfalls by-”

The voice was cut out with a bang, a hand coming from under a mess of pillows and comforter to shut off the radio alarm clock. The nails were short, partially bitten away and partially trimmed, the fingers tips calloused and the black nail polish on them chipped away. The arm that followed had a collection of bracelets and wrist bands around it, a catalogue of the last year of events and gifts from friends. It disappeared back amongst the fluffy warm of the grey sheets, its owner hoping for another half hour of sleep.

A loud clatter sounded from just beyond the door, and the bed’s inhabitant sat right up, jumping out of bed, and slipping on a pair of fuzzy blue slippers before running to their door.

“Shit, shit…” A voice muttered outside, and the door was swung open to reveal their mom, trying to clean the fluff off the bacon and eggs she seemed to have dropped on the way to their room. Orange juice pooled on the breakfast tray, and their mom looked up quickly. “Oh! Honey! Y/N, baby. I’m sorry, I tripped over my shoes… This was supposed to be breakfast in bed for my birthday girl.”

“Oh, mom…” the pair embraced over the mess of spilled breakfast, sharing a smile as they began clearing it up together. “Well, why don’t I get dressed, we go to Ruth’s before the breakfast rush?” Y/N suggested, taking in her mom’s appearance. She was already in her scrubs, hair pinned back and her badge hanging from her pocket. “When’s your next shift start?” She asked, and her mom pressed a kiss to her forehead before picking up the tray.

“Cathy is covering me for the next two hours, and I should be back around 4.” Her mom said quickly, walking down the apartment’s hallway and quickly binning the dusty bacon and eggs, running the tray under the sink to stop it becoming sticky. “You get ready, Ruth’s sounds great.” She assured, and Y/N jumped back to her feet, rushing down the hallway after her mom and pressing a kiss to her cheek from behind while grabbing a damp rag and a bottle of carpet cleaner from below the sink.

“I’ll get the orange juice out the rug first.” She smiled, walking back to the stain of yellow on the cream carpet, dropping to her knees to quickly scrub it out of the flooring before it became permanent.

“Are you taking the cello to school today? I can drive you in if you are.” Her mom called the offer down the hall as Y/N brought the last of the OJ out of the carpet, walking back down the hall to store the cleaning products away.

“That would be great. Mr Johnson wants to restring it for me, I’ve been playing so much he’s worried they’ll snap any day now.” Y/N smiled at the thought, and her mom rested a hand on her cheek, rubbing her thumb on the rosy skin.

“You know, I’m so proud of you sweetie… I tell you, I never thought I would be lucky enough to have a daughter like you.” Their foreheads pressed together. “Just think, next year you’ll get me as your college roommate!”

“I still need to audition for USC mom. I’m not going to college yet.” Y/N reminded with a smile, glancing at the wall clock. “I’ll go get ready, could you take my cello down to the car?” She asked with her hands clasped, her mom laughing.

“Of course, birthday girl. Go, get ready. Leaving in 15.” Her mom called after her as Y/N ran and swung herself round the doorframe into the bathroom, quick to jump in the shower and wash herself, and even quicker to rush back to her bedroom and get herself dressed. By the time those 15 minutes had passed, Y/N was grabbing her backpack and Walkman, clipping the latter to the waistband of her tartan skirt as she rushed out the door, double checking she had everything she needed for school as she hurried out to her mom’s car.

“And I am right on time.” Y/N said with a heavy breath as she sat down in the passenger seat, her mom pulling out their parking spot, the car’s clock reading 6.59.

“I phoned ahead to Ruth’s; she’s got your pancakes already cooking.” Her mom replied, letting out a happy sigh as they turned onto the main road, turning on the radio as Y/N slipped on her headphones, quickly opening her Walkman to identify what CD she had on before closing it and pressing play, the pair enjoying each other’s silent company as they headed for their favourite diner.

They arrived a few songs later thanks to LA traffic, Y/N jumping out as her mom parked up to find Ruth, the diner owner, setting out her and her mom’s meals on the bar counter: pancakes with syrup and banana, and a strawberry and vanilla smoothie for each of them, plus a cup of black coffee by her mom’s usual seat.

“There she is: the birthday girl!” Ruth came round the counter, pulling Y/N into a tight hug that forced the breath out the girl. Ruth was an older woman, about an inch shorter than the teen, and stout, but stronger than three of Y/N combined, with her greying hair in curls and tucked under a soft blue hat that matched her waitress uniform. “Now I know we shouldn’t talk work, but can I ask you to come in Sunday morning?” Ruth asked Y/N as she ushered her to her seat, and Y/N’s mom came through the door.

“Of course. Mom, will you be working Sunday?” Y/N asked as they both took their seats, Ruth walking back round the counter. Y/N stopped for a moment, appreciating the ‘17’ that had been made with banana slices on top of her pancakes.

“Got a double at the hospital. Why? Ruth got you working overtime again?” Her mom raised an eyebrow at Ruth, who just cackled.

“Sami, sweetheart, that girl’s my best waitress.” Ruth scolded Y/N’s mom, who shook her head with a smile before starting on her breakfast, and Y/N did the same as Ruth walked further along the countertop to help another customer.

“So, what’s the schedule for today?” Sami asked her daughter, who looked up with half a pancake hanging out her mouth, causing them both to start laughing.

“Well…” Y/N started, swallowing down her food as her mom sipped on coffee. “School, then the pier with Rosalee and Evelyn. Then home, cake… And my bed?” She suggested, earning a roll of the eyes from her mom.

“It’s your seventeenth birthday, Y/N! You need to be out having fun, maybe finally decide to join Rosalee’s band?” He mom suggested with a wiggle of her eyebrows, earning an elbow in the side. “Hey! Girls in rock bands are the new super models. You’ll have all the rocker boys at your feet.” Her mom teased, and Y/N went bright red. “Speaking of which… Happy birthday.” Her mom reached into her hand bag, pulling out an envelope and sliding it along the counter.

“Mom, I thought we said no presents this year…” Y/N reprimanded her, but her smile was too bright to be angry.

“It’s a joint present. Rose and I, nothing too expensive, though that girl will have gotten you something else as well, no doubt.” Sami explained as Y/N licked her knife clean and slotted it under the envelope flap, slicing the paper open.

“No… No way…” Y/N muttered, shaking two concert tickets from the letter, covering her mouth as her eyes watered a little. “Mom…”

“You’ve been raving about those boys for the past year now, Y/N, and with Rose’s discount to Orpheum shows… They’re playing in a few months, we couldn’t resist.” Her mom said with a smile, and Y/N jumped from her seat, wrapping her arms around her mom, happy tears staining her mom’s scrubs. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Sami lifted her daughter’s face to wipe away the tears. “You’re my little superstar, Y/N, you deserve some time off.” She informed Y/N, who nodded. “You finish up, you can finish the milkshake in the car, and if you decide to cut school today, just make sure you’re not missing anything important… Knowing Rose, she’ll drag you out before you can get a word in edge wise.”

The pair were conscious of the time, finishing up quickly and bidding goodbye to Ruth as they hurried for the car. LA traffic always had to be accounted for, but they managed up the beach front and reached Los Feliz High with ten minutes to spare. Y/N quickly kissed her mom’s cheek, grabbing her bag and pulling her cello from the backseat, waving her mom off to work as an arm rested across her shoulders, another set coming around her waist.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Evelyn and Rosalee shrieked into Y/N’s ears, causing the girl to jump and try and wriggle away as her cousin and best friend, respectively, pressed kisses to her cheeks and locked her in an embrace.

“Jesus! I swear you both want to kill me.” Y/N recovered quickly with a nervous laugh, her cousin taking her cello for her as Rosalee pulled her closer by the shoulders, Y/N’s hand coming around the taller girl’s waist. “But thank you. For the yelling and the tickets, Rosa.” She directed the second half to her friend, having to pause for a moment to blow her friend’s hair away from her face, the dark curls tickling her nose.

“Hermosa, it was the least I could do. You’ve been in love with them since last year’s homecoming. Lo juro, fue el regalo más fácil que he comprado.” Rose promised her friend, the pair walking after Evelyn into the school building, headed for the music department.

“So… I took the liberty of checking your class schedule.” Evelyn spoke up as they reached Mr Johnson’s classroom, Y/N’s cello, and piano, teacher. She rapped the door twice, turning back to her little cousin and Rose. “None of us have anything major to do today, we have friends and study partners in all our classes willing to share notes, and your cello is out of use all day.”

“Indeed it will be.” Mr Johnson spoke up, the girls glancing down the corridor at the older teacher. He was a cheery looking fellow, maybe about fifty years old, with a round belly and a love of suspenders. He was also the best teacher Y/N had ever had. “I need to restring and tune and break it in for use, you’ll get it back Monday. Now, I hope you girls aren’t planning on skipping school for Y/N’s birthday, as a teacher I could never condone such a thing…” He said as he unlocked his room, beckoning the three in, the trio following. “Of course, if you were to leave, you should be going through that fire escape at the far corner of my classroom, and heading to the bus park. No teachers patrolling there this time of day...” He winked, and Rose took it as a sign to run over to the door, Evelyn following quickly. Y/N waited behind for a second, taking a step towards Mr Johnson’s desk. “Y/N, you deserve a day off. Happy birthday.” He said with a kind smile, opening his desk and pulling out a small, thin box. “For my brightest student, and for a life of signing autographs. The past five years of teaching you have been my privilege.” He prefaced as she opened the box to find a white marble pen, her name engraved along the side.

“Thank you, Mr Johnson…” She smiled softly, closing the box over once more and putting the present into her backpack.

“Go, be safe, be stupid to the limit of safety… I don’t need my student breaking her wrist a month before her USC audition.” He warned, and Y/N nodded fast, turning on her toes and starting for the door Rosa and Evelyn had left through. She broke into a run as she headed for the bus park, quickly catching up to her friends and falling into step with them, headed for Sunset Boulevard.

The girls often found themselves on the strip, and on days like that one they could walk all the way to the coast line and back, window shopping as they went. While it was colder than usual for LA, the thick cloud layer blocking out most of the sunshine, the whole strip was alive that Friday.

However, it seemed like Rosalee and Evelyn had a plan for Y/N, each looping their arm with Y/N’s as they started on a march down the strip, headed to an undisclosed location. They didn’t stop to window shop as per the usual, didn’t stop for smoothies from the place Evelyn got discounts in because she flirted with the cashier, they didn’t even hesitate when passing the cineplex the three frequented at the weekends when they weren’t all working or studying.

Instead, Rosalee and Evelyn stopped on the other side of the road from Rose’s job, at the Orpheum.

“I thought that concert was a few months away, Rosalee.” Y/N said with a raised eyebrow, not sure what her friends were up to.

“Oh, no… That’s our second stop…” Rose turned Y/N’s head slightly, focusing on a building two down from the music venue. “We’re going there first.”

“Tattoos?” Y/N’s eyes widened, looking over at Evelyn to see if it was real, but by the smile on her cousin’s face, they were serious. “Ev, your mother will kill you. Auntie is far from… Tattoo-friendly.” Y/N reminded, and Evelyn shook her head.

“Oh, I know. But Aunt Sami? She’ll be thrilled you’re doing something stupid. I’m pretty sure you being the clever one in that house isn’t fair.” Evelyn said with a grin, and Rose leaned over.

“We cleared it with her, you’re all good to go… So, you’re getting a tattoo, Y/N…” She said, and with a glance to Evelyn, the pair locked their arms tight around Y/N’s and marched her across the road and for the tattoo parlour.

“Guys! Guys! This is ridiculous, you realise that?” Y/N asked with a nervous laugh, gulping as they pushed her through the door, Rosalee pulling a slip out of her leather jacket’s pocket.

“Hello there. We have an appointment booked for today at 10?” Rosa asked at the desk, Y/N looking back at Evelyn, who winked: the pair had planned this a while ago, she could tell.

“Parental consent is required?” The receptionist asked, Rosa handing over the slip of paper. The employee glanced over it, shrugging and nodding. “What’s your name kid?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, we’ll get you set up in the chair. Do you have a design in mind?”

“Actually, we’ve picked something out for her.” Evelyn spoke up, pushing Y/N further into the shop and sitting her down on the tattoo chair. “I emailed it over last week, to Francis?” She asked, and the name caused shuffling from behind a curtain.

“Evelyn, right?” A beautiful woman, probably a few years older than the girls, came through the curtain. Her arms were covered in tattoos, shown off by the cut tank she had decided to wear, the band on it matching the one Y/N’s shirt repped. “Ah, so this is my rock child kin. Francis, you can call me Fran.” She introduced herself with a hug, first Evelyn, then Rosalee, and finally Y/N, each girl hugging back. “So, ladies, do we want the tattoo to be a surprise?” She asked, and Evelyn glanced at Rose then Y/N, both nodding.

“I mean, why not?” Y/N conceded, to the grins of her friends and tattoo artist, who took her dominant hand and flipped it over, rubbing down her wrist with sterilising solution. Y/N was nervous, sure, but the excitement was dulling the worry a little.

“Y/N, can I get your Walkman?” Rosa asked, quickly unclipping the device from her best friend’s waist before given an answer, and removing the CD. She walked over to the front desk, chatting with the guy who had greeted them as Fran set herself up, making sure her needle was inked and working well. Y/N gulped at the whir of the tattoo gun, the anxiety rising up…

When a familiar song came over the shop’s stereo, and she let out a laugh.

“Go on, you know you want to.” Evelyn encouraged, Y/N’s favourite band beginning to play and sing on the radio.

“It’ll help you relax… Go for it.” Fran said with a nod, slipping on a pair of gloves and her glasses, the tattoo gun whirring up again, and coming in contact with Y/N’s skin. The pain was sharp, and sudden, and she gasped, deciding to follow the advice.

“… ‘til we blast open the top. Face first, full charge, electric hammer to the heart.” Y/N called out, her eyes squeezing shut as she sang and laughed through the pinching on her wrist. “Clocks move forward but we don't get older, no. Kept on climbing till our stars collided. And all the times we fell behind were just the keys to paradise.” She began to sing properly, the pain seeming to dull when she focused on it, Rosalee and Evelyn watching on in awe. Her voice was so unique, so special, something Rose had been trying to convince Y/N to use for years. “Don’t look down, cause we’re still rising up right now. And even in we hit the ground, we’ll still fly. Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, but living like it’s now or never!”

Y/N sang her way through the seven songs on the demo album twice through in that tattoo parlour, Rosa and Evelyn joining in on the catchy choruses: it made sense why Y/N liked the band, they only hoped she would like the tattoo.

“My masterpiece is finished.” Fran announced, prompting Rosa to run over and shut off the CD player, collecting Y/N’s disc and slipping it back into the girl’s Walkman. “Do you wanna look?” Fran asked her, removing her glasses and gloves with a smile, and Y/N sat up, looking down at the tattoo on her wrist.

“A sunset?” She whispered, glancing up at her friends with a smile.

“My idea, would you believe?” Evelyn said, Y/N getting off the chair and pulling her and Rose into a tight hug. They quickly bid goodbyes to Fran, heading back outside onto the strip, this time with the destination of the Orpheum.

“So, best birthday ever?” Rosalee asked Y/N, who nodded, still admiring the tattoo. It was a reference to her favourite band, her friends knew her well, and reflected their logo quite nicely. “Well, since we’ve been amazing to you… I’m going to ask again.” Rose said as they entered the Orpheum, and Y/N smiled ruefully.

This was their thing, her and Rosalee. Every week, Y/N would once again be asked to join her best friend and her cousin in their band, Rose and the Petal Pushers, and every time they asked she said no. She was a classically trained cellist and pianist, she was auditioning for the USC conservatory program in a month, and even if Rose had been the one to encourage her into playing again after the one time when Y/N was 10 and embarrassed herself at a concert so bad she refused to touch her cello for three weeks, Y/N couldn’t see why a girl rock band needed her in it. Evelyn, Rose and the girls were quite phenomenal without her.

“Why do you need me?” Y/N decided to ask this time, instead of just refusing, a bit more open to ideas since it was her birthday. Rosa and Evelyn shared a glanced, shocked, before pulling her through to the main concert space and jumping up onto the stage, dragging Y/N along with them.

“Have you ever heard a cello in a rock song?” Evelyn asked her, the three looking out at the space, standing in the places where legends had stood before them.

“Not really… No.” Y/N admitted, looking over and fixing one of the butterfly themed clips in Rosalee’s hair.

“That’s exactly why we need you, Y/N. Diversify the genre, bring classical technique to punk rock!” She pitched, taking her friend’s hand in hers. “Plus, you can sing, you can play piano… You have a gift that needs to be shared with the world, Y/N.” The words gave Y/N reason to pause, to consider. She had, after all, done crazier things before, she had done crazier things that day, the ink on her wrist catching her eye. “Go on… Sing something, see how it feels.” She urged, and Y/N sighed, entertaining her friends as her eyes closed.

“God!” Y/N let the note hang for a moment, and Rose grinned: it was something she had written, that Y/N had overheard her practicing at school the week before. “God only knows, what I’d do… If I, if I couldn’t love you…” She sang softly, her eyes opening to look out, to feel the rush of adrenaline hit her. She bit her lip as she smiled, understanding exactly what Rose meant. “If I do this…” She began, cut off and Rose and Evelyn hugged her tight, squealing in delight, jumping up and down with her.

“That’s a yes! You finally said yes!” Rose cheered, and Evelyn jumped down from the stage and rushed over to the bar, pulling out a small box she and Rose undoubtedly store there the night before, sat atop it a party hat.

“To celebrate your joining the band…” Evelyn opened the box, a frosted cupcake inside, and handed it to Y/N while fixing a party hat onto the girl’s head.

“Ah! Ewan!” Rose called as a kid around their age walked in, ready for a shift that night. He was a year older than the girls, had gone to school with them, and knew far too much about all of them thanks to Rose. “Can you get a photo? Y/N’s finally agreed.” She explained, pulling a disposable camera from her school bag and handing it over to him.

“You really agreed?” He asked Y/N, who was eating her way rather quickly through the cupcake: though to be fair, it was her favourite flavour. She nodded in response, earning laughs from her three companions, and she just shrugged as she swallowed.

“After… Two years of pestering, it seems only right that I final give in. Rosalee sure wasn’t going to be defeated.” Y/N laughed, taking one last bite of the cupcake before wiping her mouth, swallowing the food as Rose and Evelyn wrapped their arms around her.

“Say… Petal Pushers!” Ewan called, taking a photo as the girls laughed through the words, a smile on his own face as he handed back the camera. “You guys really ought to leave before the boss gets back.” He reminded, gesturing to the side door, and the three girls took a second before nodding, rushing out the side exit as the staff started filing in for the night’s events.

Y/N didn’t feel the eyes on the back of her head as she left the Orpheum, barely registering the whisper that passed by her ear, planting the first seed in her mind of something terrible.

That night, after cake with her mom at the apartment and plans made with Rosalee and Evelyn to meet the rest of the band that night for their first practice, Y/N began travelling towards the address Rosa had given her earlier that day, a hum on her lips as she stepped of the bus near the coast line, near her favourite place in the world, one her and her mom found years ago.

She had wrapped up warm, unusually cold air had set in that night, prompting her to borrow her mom’s thickest jacket as she left the apartment with calls of ‘I love you’ shared between a mother and daughter.

You’ve got nothing to lose…

The words floated in Y/N’s head for a moment, and she shrugged, deciding a five minute detour to the beach wouldn’t do her any real harm. It would be nice to have a few moments alone, to soak in the day so far, before she went on to that night and the upcoming festivities.

Her feet hit the sand, whisperings of a song floating through her head, a shadow of a man in formal wear further along the sandy shores…

Suddenly, morning, and Y/N was woken up at her favourite spot on the beach front by a scream. She shot up, rushing to see what had happened, no time to register her lost memory from the night before.

Only the scream wasn’t on the beach front. Y/N turned to find her mom and Rose holding one another, over a body, dressed just like Y/N.

“Mom…” She asked, looking down at the girl who lay on the rock, by her side.

Looking down a face so familiar to her, though she wasn’t sure why. The body was rigid, washed of colour, lips that should have been red a tinged purple blue.

And then, Y/N screamed…

Los Angeles, California. 2020.

They all came back at once, a barrage of information filling Y/N’s head, finishing its upload to her brain in an instant. Of a life she never got to live, of a mom who loved her so dearly, of a father who never appeared, of friends who loved her unconditionally and guardians who wanted nothing more than to see her thrive.

Of that man on the beach, of the songs she had sang for 25 years by his side…

A distinct memory of Caleb calling her death a recruitment, of him asking her to play for his house band once he found her, of him becoming furious at her upstaging him on her first night at the club... It all finally made sense to her:

She was dead because of Caleb.

And she had lost music, family, everything, because Caleb took it from her.

Y/N’s eyes stung with tears as she pulled herself to her feet, the pain of the jolt still coursing through her and forcing her to lean against the wall as she made her way to the stage side. She watched as Alex, Reggie and Luke played for Caleb, who sang and scatted his way through their third song of the night. None of the guys looked happy, of course they didn’t… They were enslaved by a man who wanted their musical talent and nothing else, just like he had wanted Y/N’s 25 years ago.

As the song came to an end with a drum solo by Alex, Y/N managed to muster up the physical strength to walk onto the stage, steely-eyed as a plan began to form in her head.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please let me welcome Y/N Y/L/N to the stage!” Caleb was quick to notice her, sending a smile and the audience’s applause her way as she walked along the band stand, taking a seat at the piano without a word said, without another person looked at. Her fingers spread over the keys, the sheet music for one of Caleb’s songs in front of her, but instead her hand moved down and hit a different chord.

She let it sit in the air, holding it over the whole room, getting everyone’s attention, including Caleb, including the guys… Including Luke. She had to do something, anything, and her mind travelled back to that night at the party, when she had spent hours resting against Luke, flicking through his song writing journal as the room shared jokes, shared anecdotes… Her memory focused on one moment, when she had scanned over the chord progressions and lyrics to a song Luke had asterisked and labelled ‘ANTHEM-WORTHY’ in his near illegible handwriting.

The idea quickly formed, Y/N getting the gut feeling to hold off for one more moment before pressing down on the chord once more, and beginning to play the melody and bass line of the song she remembered on that page with as much emotion as she could.

“Don’t blink, no I don’t wanna miss it… One thing, and it’s back to the beginning.” Y/N singing wavered a little, her voice taking a moment to come into its own… But she remembered now, what she was good at, what she was capable of… What she was able to create with Luke wasn’t a fluke, it was real. It was the girl who wanted to study music, who wanted to join her best friend’s band, who got a tattoo and played cello and loved her mom with her whole heart.

For the first time in 25 years, Y/N knew who she was, and didn’t shy away from it.

“Cause everything is rushing in fast. Keep going on never look back.” She continued, the boys quickly realising what was happening, knocked out of the daze they had found themselves in. Alex was the first to join in, taking on his drum line with a smile to Y/N, a thank you, that warmed her heart. Then Reggie, getting used to the bass strings again, no longer feeling the urge to play what Caleb demanded.

“And it one, two, three, four times that’ll I’ll try for one more night.” Y/N went on the harmony line as another voice filled the room, startling the audience and performers with its power, its beauty. Some sort of connection had been made, just like when Y/N had played with Luke the day before, and Julie’s solo performance from the Orpheum was being broadcasted to the room as Y/N played, and Reggie and Alex played. As her hands left the piano, Julie’s own playing taking over, her eyes looked up at Luke, slowly coming to from his own trance. “Light a fire in my eyes, I’m going out of my mind.” She sang along, a smile on her face as Luke’s eyes cleared of the fog that had settled in them, and his hands began to play.

“Stop it! Stop them!” Caleb yelled as the crowd started to cheer, to dance along, Julie’s voice filling the room and drowning out any shouts Caleb tried to make as the chorus came into play.

“Whatever happens even if I’m the last in it I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall. Whatever happens even when everything’s down, I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall.” Julie sang, the boys playing along, all of them visualising the Orpheum, where they were supposed to be as waiters came up onto the stage and grabbed Y/N, pulling her away from the piano. “I gotta keep on dreaming, cause I gotta catch that feeling. Whatever happens even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall.” The damage was already done, Alex and his drum set disappearing into thin air, leaving a gap in the stage. He could still be heard however, now playing with Julie from the Orpheum.

“Right now I'm loving every minute. Hands down can't let myself forget it, no. Cause everything is rushing in fast, keep holding on, never look back.” As Julie continued, Y/N wrenched herself from the waiters, Reggie disappearing as she made her way across the stage. “And it’s…”

“Y/N.” Luke called to her over the music, his eyes worried as he watched the staff grab her arms and pull her back again. He began to fade, starting to disappear and join the band where he was meant to be, at the Orpheum, but then having to leave Y/N behind as a result. She would be facing off Caleb, alone. And after she saved him, saved everything, how could he let it happen?

“See you on the other side, Luke.” She shouted back, a smile on her face as she was pulled away by the waiters, a nod of her head promising everything would be ok. He vanished, his eyes opening as he finally appeared in the Orpheum, smiling over to Julie as he finally materialised.

“I’m going out of my mind.” Luke sang, earning a cheer from the crowd. “Whatever happens even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall.” He sang, a wave of relief flushing over him when he didn’t flicker again, Julie dancing alongside him.

“Whatever happens even when everything’s down, I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall.” Julie joined in, Luke switching to the harmony line. “I gotta keep on dreaming, cause I gotta catch that feeling. Whatever happens even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall.” Julie beckoned Reggie over, the pair walking to the front of the stag, surrounded by the crowd as they went back to back. “Like I'm glowing in the dark. I keep on going when it's all falling apart. Yeah I know it with all my heart. Ooh, ooh.”

“Never look back!” Luke called out with a final strum, looking back at Alex as they were left with only Reggie on bass.

“Whatever happens even if I’m the last standing, I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall.” Alex stood up as he sang, earning screams and cheers.

“Whatever happens even when everything’s down, I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall.” Reggie continued, nodding to Julie, who harmonised with him.

“Stand tall.”

“Stand tall.” Luke and Alex joined in.

“Stand tall!” A final voice sang out, the familiar high and airy sounds of Y/N harmonising perfectly with the band, holding a high harmony line as they went into the last chorus.

“Whatever happens even if I’m the last in it I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall. Whatever happens even when everything’s down, I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall.” The five voices sang together for the final chorus, Julie leading Luke down to the front of the stage with her mic as the paired shared. “I gotta keep on dreaming, cause I gotta catch that feeling.” Reggie and Alex followed them down to the front of the stage, mics in hand as Luke played them out. “Whatever happens even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall, I'ma stand tall.”

For a moment, as they held that last note, Julie and the Phantoms could see Y/N amongst the crowd, before she disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving the band to take their final bow together.

It was only once Julie and the Phantoms had finished their last performance that the club went quiet, all eyes focused on a smiling Y/N, who had sung alongside the band in their closing lyrics. The arms that held Y/N back were replaced with a single hand on her shoulder, Y/N following the arm up to look at Caleb, who looked at the band and with a flick of his hand, had them playing again, performers dancing, waiters serving food like nothing had happened.

“You and I need a little chat.” He said softly, leading Y/N towards the bar, the pair sitting on bar stools, and the waiter placing down two glasses of champagne. He was silent for a moment, taking a sip of the cool beverage as Y/N watched on: she wasn’t able to wipe the smile off her face. She could hear them in her head, she could see them performing, she could see Flynn and Ray and Carlos watching Julie with love she held for her own family. “Was this your plan all along?”

“No.” Y/N responded honestly. “But after I fulfilled my side of the deal, once I got the boys to the club, I got my memories back. Willie was freed… And now you have nothing over me, but I know who you really are Caleb.” She took a sip of her own glass, the pair setting them down at the same time.

“Oh? And who am I, Y/N?”

“A collector… A narcissist… The person who killed me. Take your pick.” She said softly, and Caleb’s face fell. She finished her glass, passing the crystal back to the bartender before getting up, running a hand through her hair and shaking it out into waves.

“I don’t lose Y/N… You know that. I will destroy you.” He reminded, and she glanced back at him with a smile.

“I’ve been dead an awful long time, Mr Covington. I’m going to die knowing I saved my friends, knowing who I am… That’s all I need. I have my redemption.” She replied, thoughtful in her words before walking towards the exit.

“So be it.” Caleb smirked, another jolt running through Y/N’s body as she vanished, leaving the echo of pain in her wake.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she was back on her beach, on her boulder, the waves crashing around her and the night sky full of stars. She collapsed, a delayed reception of the jolt administered, only this time the pain didn’t fade like usual. Instead, it radiated through her, settling as a dull numbness through her body.

She pulled herself to her feet, trying to envision Julie’s house in her head, knowing she needed to find Willie, to explain the boys got to cross over, that they were safe: to tell him she was sorry. However, every time she tried, her head became heavy, foggy, and after a few attempts and another jolt coursing through her, Y/N saw no choice but to walk.

It was slow going, the girl having to stop every few minutes as another jolt hit, the pain building up with each blow she took. She decided at about the halfway mark to ditch the heels she had been wearing all night, and by the time she reached the Molina residence, she fell to the patio, the sound of Julie’s dad pulling in to the house welcoming to her ears.

“Y/N?” A voice asked from the shadows, Willie emerging from his hiding spot and rushing over at the sight of his friend curled up on the concrete, holding her stomach as another jolt hit her.

“Willie I…” Y/N coughed, groaning in pain and taking deep breaths. Before she could continue, Julie rounded the corner, having heard the voices from the front door, stopping in her tracks at the sight. “Julie.”

“Oh my God, Y/N…” Julie rushed over, her and Willie sharing a glance, a mixture of confusion and worry: there was the question as to why Julie was able to see the skater boy Alex had been falling for, when the night before she had watched Alex, Reggie and Luke discuss plans to air, but it wasn’t the time for it now.

“I’m so sorry. For everything, everything I did to you both…” She tried to pull herself up, Willie quickly helping her to her feet and holding her upright. “Willie, I didn’t have a choice, I swear and…” Y/N’s words turned to sobs, and Willie held her tight to him.

“Hey, hey… I know you did right by me…”

“And the boys too… They crossed over.” Julie added, Willie looking over at the lifer with an eyebrow raised.

“How?”

“Y/N.” Julie just answered. “She sent them to me… Now can I ask the question of what we do to save you?” She directed her question to the girl in green, who shook her head quickly. “My mom wouldn’t want you dying again.” Julie said, leaving Y/N confused until she pulled a photo from her jacket pocket, Y/N’s eyes widening at the memory.

“Rosalee…” She whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek. “Your mom… Oh my God…” She muttered, the realisation tinged with an overwhelming sense of grief: not only had they all lost the guys, but Y/N had only just remembered her best friend, and now had to discover she had passed on as well.

“What do we do, Y/N?” Willie asked, receiving a shake of the head from his best friend.

“I’m ok… Going like this. I just wanted to say goodbye… To see you one last time… To be somewhere happy.” She whispered, and Julie wiped her eyes.

“Then we’ll say goodbye together… All of us.” Julie decided, beckoning Willie to follow after her as she walked to the studio doors, walking into the space with Willie and Y/N coming to either side of her. “I…” She stopped, swallowing for a moment. “I know I already said this but, uh… Thank you guys.” She said softly, looking to Y/N, their hand reaching out and passing through one another as they looked on the dark space with Willie to their left, a final goodbye appropriate for sending them off properly.

“… You’re welcome…” Reggie’s voice came from nowhere, followed swiftly by a groan from Alex, and Julie rushed to turn the light on. With the flick of a switch, the three boys were revealed in a pile on the floor.

“Dude…” Luke groaned, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness of the room as Alex got to his feet, Reggie sitting himself up. “Y/N…” Luke’s eyes focused on the girl, who had gone back to leaning on Willie for support.

“I… I. What are you doing here? I thought-” Julie started, cut off as a jolt ran through the boys and Y/N, her eyes welling up. “No… No! I thought you crossed over, why didn’t you cross over?”

“I guess playing the Orpheum wasn’t our unfinished business.” Alex muttered, looking up to see Willie, the worry etched on the happy boy’s face sending aches to his heart. With a nod from Y/N, who found herself a comfortable leaning position against one of the support beams, Willie made his way over to Alex, their hand linking as the blond found his footing.

“Point Caleb.” Y/N muttered with a painful laugh, waving her fingers over to Reggie, who smiled weakly and waved back.

“We wanted you to think that we crossed over, so we pretended to.” Luke explained. “We just… We had nowhere else to go.” He shrugged.

“We thought you’d go straight to bed.” Reggie added, leaning himself against a chair.

“Yeah, well,” Alex started, holding on tight to Willie for support. “I knew she was gonna come out here, but nobody listens to-” Another jolt ran through the four, earning a chorus of groans and whimpers.

“You have to save yourselves, all of you… Go to Caleb’s club, we can make this right, you can play with him… It’s better than not existing at all.” Julie pleaded, looking around the five ghosts, hoping her pleas might work. “Please, please just go! Poof out! Do something… Please, do it for me.”

“We’re not going back there.” Reggie shook his head, and the others knew why: compared to being free, a life at Caleb’s club felt like becoming a shell of yourself.

“Julie…” Y/N spoke up, smiling at the girl who had become her friend, whose mom had been like her sister. “No music is worth making, if the Phantoms aren’t making it with you.” She said softly, and Julie turned back to the room as Reggie and Luke got themselves up from the floor.

Julie couldn’t stand it, couldn’t imagine life without them, and in a moment of desperation, she threw her arms around Luke and Reggie hugging them close, a final goodbye. The boys held her tight, arms wrapping round her back, around one another, as they shared the moment.

“I love you guys.” Julie whispered softly to them, Alex holding on to Willie as they and Y/N watched the scene unfold.

And then it dawned on them all that Julie wasn’t meant to be able to touch them, and Julie pulled away to see Luke and Reggie both glowing.

“How can I feel you?” She asked softly, holding onto one of their hands each, so used to seeing her body pass through theirs. Neither of them could answer, but it gave Julie and idea. “Alex, Willie, Y/N… Come over.” She beckoned, Willie helping Alex over as Luke walked past Julie to hold out a hand to Y/N.

Y/N glanced at it for a moment, looking up at Luke to make sure he was certain: he had barely been within six feet of her since the party. Luke took her hand, helping her to her feet and leading Y/N back to the group formed in the room’s centre, the six joining together in a hug.

Suddenly, the glow that covered Luke and Reggie spread to the other three too, Julie’s grip on Y/N’s back beckoning firm, the dress fabric smooth and soft against her fingers.

“I feel stronger…” Luke muttered in disbelief, the group breaking the hug to look between one another. Suddenly, they all looked healthier, happier, brighter.

“I… I don’t feel as weak anymore.” Reggie agreed.

“Me neither.” Alex added, clearing his throat when he glanced at Willie by his side. “Not that, you know, I was ever that weak.” The six shared a laugh, Y/N lifting up her wrist as it began to tingle, the boys quickly feeling the same thing.

Just like what had happened at the club with Willie, the stamps lifted off their wrists, breaking apart in a small beam of light before vanishing completely.

“What does this mean?” Julie asked, looking up at the guys, who shared a smile.

“I this this means the band is back.” Luke said with a grin, the group pulling close again for another hug.

Aster a minute or so of jumping and tears of relief as they all held one another, Willie pulled Alex to the side, and in a split second decision, the pair locked lips, Willie’s hands holding Alex’s face as the blonde’s arms pulled the skater closer by the waist. It was quick, both coming out blushing as three faces smiled at them when they came back from their moment in heaven, the fourth set of eyes still focused on her wrist.

Y/N watched in awe as the final remnants of Caleb’s stamp dispersed from her wrist, 25 years of servitude broken with a single hug, and in place of the stamp a tattoo appeared: the tattoo she had gotten the day she died.

The five other eyes watched for a moment, hearts swelling to see the pure joy on Y/N’s face, their own quickly turning to disbelief when the tattoo came into full view.

“Y/N…” Luke said softly, the girl’s eyes darting up. “The reason you don’t like Trevor Wilson?”

“He…” She stopped, looking down at the tattoo the three boys had their eyes fixed on, and back up at Julie, who had a smile on her face. “He stole all his songs from my favourite band… Sunset Curve…” She explained, and Reggie let out a yell, throwing his arms in the air as Alex let out a laugh alongside Julie, leaving Y/N looking at Luke for answers.

“Maybe we should step outside, Y/N…” He suggested, holding out a hand to her and, after their fingers had interlocked, leading her out onto the patio, lit up by soft string lights and the stars above.

“Am I missing something here?” She asked with a worried voice, and Luke nodded quite seriously, closing over the studio doors for some privacy: though it didn’t stop Willie, Alex, Reggie and Julie from watching through the windows.

“This Sunset Curve… You never saw them perform live, did you?” Luke asked, running a hand through his hair, and Y/N nodded in agreement with his statement, trying not to focus on the guitarist’s flexing arms: for all of Caleb’s many faults, he had styled Luke perfectly, showing of his arms with a sleeveless tux.

“I had tickets for their show at the Orpheum, my friend… Julie’s mom, used to work there.” Y/N smiled at the memory captured by Julie’s photograph. “I died before I got to go. And when they had played the homecoming dance, I spent most of the night listening to the from the bathrooms because my cousin ate a bad hot dog… And then I got to the afterlife, and despised Trevor Wilson for no reason I… I figured it out when my memories came back: he stole my favourite band’s songs…” Luke let her ramble on, unable to contain the smile as she slowly found her way to a conclusion. “You know, he even stole a song called ‘My Name is Luke’, which was written by the band’s lead guitarist, in fact he wrote all their… music…” She slowed, and Luke took a step closer.

“Dreaming like we’ll live forever, but living like it’s now or never.” He sang softly to her, Y/N covering over her mouth in shock.

“You…” She began, laughing at her own stupidity. “You, and Reggie and Alex… You were Sunset Curve… How…” She took a few steps back and laughed again. “How is it possible that I accidentally like the same guy dead that I had a crush on alive?! How does that work? I swear this is Rosalee’s twisted way of finally getting me to that conce-”

“So you do like me, then?” Luke interrupted, Y/N falling silent, her cheeks tinted pink from the heat rising to them. “You know, I was kind of getting mixed signals with the whole working for the bad guy thing.” He took a step closer to her, and another, until their toes were inches apart.

“Was Crooked Teeth about Reggie?” She asked, giggling after hearing the bassist shout ‘hey!’ from the other side of the door, which cause Luke to chuckle and nod in response. “Sorry about the whole bad person thing… I haven’t been myself for… The past twenty five years?”

“You know… If you aren’t otherwise engaged.” Luke smiled. “I think the band could definitely use another Phantom.” He offered, their eyes travelling to the windows to see Julie and the guys vigorously nodding in agreement.

“Do you really want me around?” She asked, hearing ‘of course!’ being shouted from inside, and she grinned. “If I said yes…” She began, but she already heard Julie cheering, and knew the decision had been made for her, not that she minded. “Luke?” She asked, looking up into his eyes as he smiled down at her.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Do you want me around?” She asked, this time referring to Luke instead of the band.

In response, Luke pulled her close by the waist and pressed his lips to hers gently, answering her question quite definitively. Her hands pulled him closer by his shirt, rising to her tiptoes to meet his lips. As they broke the kiss, breathing heavy for a second, Luke lifted her up in his arms, pressing his lips to hers again as she laughed, the pair spinning the warm glow of the patio string lights.

As Y/N and Luke were joined by their band mates and Willie under the stars, and as Julie hugged, really hugged, Y/N for the first time, everything felt right in the world again. They all knew this was only the first hurdle they’d face, all aware that danger lurked around every corner. The group’s trials were far from over, but that night, it didn’t matter.

Looking up at those stars, knowing somewhere Rose was watching down on all of them, they all knew that no matter what came their way, they would face it together rather than alone. As Alex pulled Willie close, as Julie and Reggie hugged each other, and as Luke’s hand laced itself with Y/N’s, it became clear that whatever was waiting for them next...

They would face it as a family.

Tags: @im-a-writer-right @elioelioeli0 @jenjen889 @walkingonshunshine @parkeret @lolychu @leahstypewriter @j-mar-memester @sunsetcurve-h @musicconversedance @gracefulpenguin @shae-is-not-ok @talksoprettyjjx @smol-book-nerd @lord-of-the-fried @siennanoelle01 @deadpoolgirl23 @theatricalfangirl @deepsleepnat @hhyunj1n @lovesanimals @oswin05 @ifilwtmfc @crappy-unicorn @eries45 @noncannonships @tenaciousperfectionunknown @theorangestofjuices @oopsiedoopsie23 @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @aesthetic-lyss @voguesir @michellebarista @caitsymichelle13 @bellero @marinettepotterandplagg @delicatelukepatterson @avengersgirllorianna @cordeliascrown @wtfkie @aberette13 @xpolinax @kaylinfayezink @carleywhittaker @mightnight-dream

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke #jatp #julie and the phantoms #fanfiction #fanfic #jatp au #reader insert #the other side of hollywood #luke patterson fluff #fluff #fantom

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fangirlovestuff · 3 years

Text

littera scripta manet - steve rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! first of all, this is based on a moodboard by the amazing @cloudystevie, which inspired this whole fic, thank you!! the picture above is how i imagined steve in this one, but you can imagine him however you want:) also, there’s a list of meanings of the flowers i mention at the end because i’m a sucker for the language of flowers (the flowers are in bold in the fic). i love the dark academia aesthetic and i hope i did it justice:) enjoy!!<3

title means ‘the written letter remains’

summary: unlike you, steve doesn’t have a problem admitting to himself he has feelings for his best friend. that’s what makes it so painful when it seems like you don’t.

word count: 7k (oops?)

warnings / tags: friends to lovers, Pining™ , angst with a happy ending, as slow burn as a one shot can be, an obnoxious amount of clichés but i’m not sorry, no plot just vibes (i mean there’s like,,, some plot i guess), the songs/quotes i used in this aren’t mine!!!

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You watched as the morning mist slowly faded, the sun showing it away. You watched as the curtains fluttered against the touch of a delicate wind. You watched as the sparks of dawn came to life under the sky's watchful eye. You watched the tree beneath your window in the glory of its blossom.

You turned your body in the other direction, the one facing not the east window but the bed. And there, beside you, you watched as he stirred hazily, his body still clad in yesterday's clothes, huffing out a quiet breath before his eyelashes fluttered open to reveal the pair of familiar blue eyes.

You watched, and his eyes told you the most amazing story – his look was disoriented, then bewildered, and then, well, the most gorgeous smile stretched onto his features, and it told the rest – love, and hope, and home.

That story is the one I will tell you today.

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The first day of school was always a straining one. All the way from elementary school to high school, it was a constant in your life.

There was, however, one more constant. Your best friend.

Steve Rogers was truly the most wonderful of boys.

You two met when you were very young, your mothers getting along well, so you had no choice but to do so as well. And you did get along, splendidly. You became fast friends, not stopping even when his other friends were telling him about 'girl germs' or when your other friends were constantly asking if you wanted him to be your boyfriend, or if he was. What you and Steve had transcended it, in a way.

You grew together, and you watched as Steve Rogers became the most wonderful of men. He was your best friend, and you loved him with your whole heart. Platonically, of course.

You smiled at him fondly as the both of you stepped into your new college, in through the big iron gates. As far as you looked there was grass, trees, flowers. The big cobblestone building stood tall in the distance, and if you listened carefully, you could hear the chatter of students above the sound of the wind that was gently ruffling your uniform skirt.

"Excited?" Steve asked, smiling back at you.

"Nervous," you let out a quiet laugh.

"You shouldn't be," he answered, "look at this place!" he gestured around, "you fit right in here with all the-" he cut himself off, closing his mouth before continuing, "you fit right in!"

"Yeah, maybe. This place is just… dreamy," you smiled. "But that doesn't stop me from being nervous."

"Well, you have no reason to be," he took your hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

You hoped he was right. You never liked being far away from home, but this school was truly the school of your dreams, and well, with Steve by your side… you could never be that far away from home.

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Adjusting was… an experience, certainly. This school was like nothing you've known before, the uniform seemed a bit excessive, the school halls were so incredibly long, and the grounds so vast you could barely see the outside. And yet, it felt like something about this place was magical. Like it accepted you right in, it wanted you to be there. The library was huge, and you've already spent countless hours digging away for course related materials and, well, less course related materials. The vast grounds meant you could walk out every day in a different direction, if you wanted to, and find a new hidden treasure.

You shared your thoughts with Steve when you discovered one of these treasures together. It was fairly early evening, you two had just gotten out of class and were walking off the long day you've had, and you suddenly came across some high rose bushes. Steve tried to see what was on the other side of them, but it was too tall even for him, so you circled around and found a small, rusty gate. You went through it to discover a small fountain, with a marble statue of a mermaid in the center.

You gasped in delight, unable to contain yourself from running to kneel on the grass next to it, looking into the water curiously. Dipping your hand in tentatively, you shivered at the touch of the chilly water, and immediately took out your hand, massaging it in your other one to warm it up.

Steve laughed as he finally caught up with you, not running but walking calmly. He dipped his hand in the water as well, before raising his brow mischievously. Before you could ask him what's going on, he took his hand out of the water and sprayed the cold droplets of water right on your face.

"Steven Grant Rogers!" you said, shocked, "You did not just do that," you glared at him.

"You know what, you're right," he began shuffling away, "I didn't," he stood up with a cheeky smile as you continued to glare at him, "It was a happy accident."

"Oh I'll show you happy accident!" you couldn't contain your laughter anymore as you dipped your hand in the water again, getting up to chase him around the little garden. He managed to evade you for a bit, and then you finally caught up to him, placing your cold hand right on the back of his neck. He turned around, making him lose his balance and fall down onto the grass, which in turn made you topple over him, stopping your fall with your hands just when you were about to fall onto his chest.

"Alright, I surrender!" he lifted his hands up.

"Good," you smirked.

There was a moment where you just stared into each other's eyes, each sparkling with a smile. It was broken when Steve asked, "Well, can I, uh, get up now?"

You noticed you ended up straddling his hips, which you then fumbled to undo, standing back up hastily. You dusted your skirt a little awkwardly, avoiding Steve's eyes as he got up too. You didn't even know why you were feeling so awkward. You've had plenty of play fights with Steve, there was no reason for this one to be different.

But Steve just extended his arm to you, like he did on the first day you were here. You took it, and just like that, you were fine again.

"Do you know, Stevie, I think there's something magical about this school," you told him as you were walking.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, the library's huge a-"

Steve burst into laughter, and once it died down a little, he said, "I'm sorry, it's just so… like you to say a big room full of books is magical. It's true, don't get me wrong," he said before you could get annoyed, "but I feel like no one but you would have vocalized that truth."

"Well then, lucky I'm here," you smiled.

"Yeah," he said softly, "very lucky."

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About a month later it turned out the school holds a ball twice a year, at the start of winter and at the end of spring, right before the school year ends. At first you were a little shocked, but you quickly warmed up to the idea, given that it was very much on brand with everything else in the school.

You did obviously make more friends than just Steve, so you and your friends went to get dresses together. Roaming between the big expansive stores was fun, but after a while you all realized it wasn't very affordable, and not really your style. You wandered into a small, secluded second hand shop, where you found the perfect dress – fancy but not overly glamorous, a color that suited you beautifully, and not too bad of a price. It made you feel like a princess, the long skirts shuffling gently behind you as you stepped out of the fitting room to show it to your friends, who were just in love with it as you were and told you to buy it right away.

That night you went home with a dress in your hand and a smile in your heart.

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As the school year progressed, you started picking up and drying different flowers you found on the grounds, keeping them between pages of your notebooks. A bit of a messy hobby at times, but it made you happy.

You were just writing a letter to your family, trying to figure out if and which flower you should attach to it, when you heard a knock on your dorm door.

"Just a second!" you called out before shutting the ink box, putting down the dip pen before getting up and opening your door. There, you found a flustered Steve, smiling at you with a few honeysuckle flowers in his hand.

"I, uh, brought these for you," he said timidly, "I know you collect flowers and I don't think you have some of these yet."

"I don't!" you smiled and took them from Steve's hand, "thank you!"

You ushered him in before putting the honeysuckles on your desk. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," he shrugged. He saw the letter and pen on your desk. "Oh, am I interrupting you? I'm sorry, I could come back later if y-"

"It's alright Stevie," you chuckled, "I was just writing home. Anything you'd want me to tell my family for you?"

"Ummm… hi?" he smiled bashfully and you both laughed.

"Well, that's just too long! I don't have any more place on the page for such eloquent greetings!" you teased.

"Alright, then no, I don't have anything to say to them. I wrote my family a few days ago already, so if you wanted to say anything to them, you'll just have to wait till next time."

"Anyways," you smiled, "did you need anything?"

"Not really," he shook his head, "I just, well, I don't really have a person to go with to, you know, the ball thing, so i-"

"So you want me to set you up?" you giggled. "Is it Ella? Or is it Kathrine?"

"No, let me finish," he half heartedly grumbled. "I was thinking, I wanted to ask you to come with me," he smiled timidly, averting his gaze. After you didn't say anything, he continued, "I mean, I didn't think you had anyone to go with either, and since we've been friends since forever, I thought-"

"No, yeah, that's a great idea!" you spoke up quickly, "Sorry, I just spaced for a moment, I think that'd be great, since no one really asked me and stuff," you shrugged and smiled.

"Great!" he smiled.

"Great," you nodded. You both chuckled, not really knowing what to say.

"I should leave you to get back to your letter," Steve said after a moment. "I'll, um, see you around."

You told him goodbye before shutting the door behind him and sitting back down at your desk. But you found you didn't have it in you to pick up your pen. No, your train of thought was lost, and was now racing a hundred miles per hour, because –

Because why would he ask you. Because he could've asked any other girl and they would've probably said yes, yet the thought of him going with another girl made your stomach drop in a peculiar way. The obvious answer was that it was just about his comfort zone, which you knew Steve was prone to staying in.

Yeah, that's it. It's just comfortable. Familiar.

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The night before the ball, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. At around 2 am, you officially gave up and traded in your pajamas for some more presentable clothes in case someone is also awake, and made your way to the library.

Over the few months you've been here, the library has become somewhat of an escape for you. Sure, it was where you did a large amount of your schoolwork, but it was also the place that allowed you to 'travel' to several magnificent worlds.

You made your way as quietly as you could, picking up one of your favorite classics. It was an old, worn in version of Dumas' "The Count of Monte Cristo", a book which you vaguely remembered reading in your childhood and, when you stumbled upon it here, fell in love with all over again.

The place was dark, and you wanted to keep it like that, giving you less of a chance to be disturbed by others. You sat down and lit a candle, getting immersed in your book. So immersed, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming up behind you.

"I figured I'd find you here," Steve smiled, sitting down on the wooden chair next to yours.

"How come?" you smiled back and closed the book, not before putting a bookmark in it.

"I went up to your room to see if you were still awake because I wanted to show you something. When you didn't answer my knock, I guessed you were either in extremely deep sleep or you were here. And would you look at that, I was right," he smirked.

You chuckled. "What did you want to show me?"

"Come on," he stood up and extended his hand to you, "I can show you right now."

You smiled and followed him as he led you outside, into the chilly night. You shivered slightly as the cold air hit your face. "Steve," you complained, "I wasn't really planning on going outside. I don't have my jacket."

"Oh, right," he said, stopping in his tracks, "sorry. But you could just take mine," he said, while already shrugging it off.

"No, Steve, then you'll get-"

"Come on!" he smiled, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders, "let's go!"

You giggled at his excitement, adjusting his jacket a little before following him further away. He took you somewhere you had shockingly never been before, a small, secluded field of hydrangeas, peaceful in the moonlight. You looked around in awe.

"I knew you'd like it," he smiled. "And look," he gestured upwards, "it's far enough from the building so we can really see the stars."

You looked up and your breath caught in your throat at the sight. He was right. The stars never seemed so many or so bright to you than in the moment.

"See right there? That's Ursa Major, and that-"

You looked to him, and his words faded away in your mind, becoming a low stream of sounds. Everything seemed to become softer, distant, while he flooded your mind.

In that instant, it looked like Steve had the moon in him. Soft, and bright, and beautiful. His pale skin glistened under the moonlight, but when his eyes turned to meet yours, you thought you may have been wrong.

Because in them, you found the stars.

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And there it was, the big night, the night of the ball. You were nearly ready to put on your dress when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it to find Steve there, smiling.

"I just came to check in on you," he said, handing you a few hibiscus flowers. You smiled, taking them from him, your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I'm doing quite well," you said, and wordlessly invited him in. He followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

"You look great," he said.

"I'm not even wearing my dress yet," you giggled. Squinting, you tried to figure out what about him seemed off to you. Then, when you realized it, you stepped up to him and brought up your hand to fix his shirt collar, which was partly stuffed under his tie. You then rested your hand next to his collarbone, above his heart.

"You look great too," you said softly, smiling a small smile up at him.

"Thanks," he breathed.

"Alright, I better get ready," you chuckled, stepping away from him. "I'll see you there."

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Steve didn't think of himself as a very sophisticated guy. Sure, he was smart enough, but he was no match to you, for example. He wasn't that big on words or analogies.

And yet, when he saw you step down the stairs into the ballroom, his first thought was that you looked like the sun, ethereal and radiant in your beauty, almost blindingly so; your hair was styled in a simple manner, your face stretched in a soft smile as your wonderous eyes roamed around the room. Your dress created an angelic sort of look, and as you gently walked down each step, your hand delicately gliding on the banister, he nearly couldn't believe you were real, that you were making your way to him.

The moment your eyes met his, your smile became bigger, your steps quickened, much like his heartbeat. When you arrived, he extended his arm to you, like he has a habit of doing, and greeted you a soft hello over the sounds of the dainty music.

The night went great, it really did. You two danced together, ate some of the fancy food, laughed. It was… magical. There was one point, when you were swaying together to a slow song, when he thought –

Well, it didn't matter what he thought, didn't it? Because at the end of the night, you didn't wait on him. No, you sneaked out with some guy in the year above you.

Steve wanted to be angry. He couldn't, not at you anyways.

Ever since a year ago, when you found out you were going to the same college, he knew. The relief that washed over him when he heard the news, the gratitude of being able to be by your side – he didn’t understand how he didn't see it sooner.

He assumed, sooner or later, you'd see in him what he sees in you. The sun. Happiness; bright, celestial, divine.

But maybe you can't see what's simply not there.

Steve went to his dorm. He went to sleep, but his nightmares awakened him again and again. Nightmares of losing you. So, without any other choice, at around 5 am he decided to give up and get up, maybe take a shower.

At the moment, it felt like real life wasn't any better than his nightmares. He hoped at some point, that would change.

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"Damien!" you laughed breathlessly as he pulled you through the endless corridors.

"What?" he chuckled, stopping and turning back towards you, pulling you a little closer to him by your joint hands. You panted a little in an attempt to catch your breath before you spoke.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, wherever you want to! Just away from that stuffy ballroom," he grinned.

"It wasn't stuffy, I thought it was very pretty!" you defended it with a smile.

"Not as pretty as you," he softly said, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. He's been complimenting you like that since you two met an hour ago at the ball, and well, you were a simple girl; you really wanted him to kiss you right now.

He took a step closer and his hand traveled to your chin, holding it and gently tilting your face up. Just as his lips touched yours, your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself to succumb to his embrace, your lips moving against his. You broke apart for air, and you opened your eyes when you remembered.

"Damien," you said, "I just remembered, I was with my friend at the ball and I didn't tell him I was going… can we go back for a second?"

He examined your face for a second before smiling and saying, "Sure. Just for a bit though," he winked.

You made your way back in silence, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the carpets below you. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you found him looking ahead with a smile. Bashfully, you smiled too, slightly biting your lower lip. Soon enough, you arrived.

Staying close to the ballroom doors, Damien asked you, "Can you see him?"

"I don't think so," you said with a frown, scanning the dancing crowd with your eyes. Steve was tall, usually you were able to easily pick out his frame from any crowd, but you couldn't see him anywhere nearby.

"Well," you said after a couple more moments passed, "he probably realized it and went already," you shrugged.

"In that case," Damien gestured at the exit, "After you, madam."

You giggled and bowed a small bow before exiting, Damien on your heels. You spent the night walking the grounds, talking to each other over the sound of the wind. When it was getting late, he escorted you to your room and gave you a good night's kiss, a perfect gentleman, just like you read about in books.

That night you slept peacefully, no dreams, good or bad, plaguing your consciousness. The next morning you woke up refreshed, ready to take on the day.

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You and Steve were still friends, but something changed. You didn't really see it, too occupied with school and Damien to notice, but there was a shift, a distance that wasn't there before. You still talked, you still hung out from time to time, it just… wasn't the same.

One day, when you were in the library together, one cold February night, Steve asked you a peculiar question.

"What do you think is the best way to tell someone you love them?"

"Why, any Valentine's day plans?" you joked.

"Nothing in particular," he shrugged.

"Well, I think the best way to tell someone you love them is with words. Just… say it, or write it, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess that's nice," he smiled, returning to his book.

"So, who's the lucky lady, huh?" you nudged him with your elbow, "is it Kathrine? Because I'm telling you, I really think if you'd ask h-"

"It's not Kathrine, because it's no one," he cut you off with a chuckle. "It was just a general question."

You never bugged him about it again, quite honestly you forgot about the whole ordeal.

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The months of the winter passed, and lo and behold, the spring settled over you. The winds were less harsh, the flowers were blooming again, the sun was shining brightly. With only a few scattered days of still wintery weather, you mostly studied outside on the grass, maybe under a tree. You were making the best of it, inviting your friends of Damien to study with you too. You felt like bursting into song.

One day, when you and Damien were sitting on the grass, studying together, he picked a rhododendron, sticking it behind your ear. The large flower didn't hold on for long, and fell down after a couple of seconds. You laughed, and he chuckled. Picking it up, you tried to put it on once more, but it just wouldn't stay. Then, you took it again and this time, stuck it behind his ear. Somehow, it managed to stay on.

You laughed, "You look very pretty."

"I do?" he asked, fluttering his lashes playfully, "why thank you darling."

After a while, he took it off and pressed in between the pages of his notebook. "Like you always do," he smiled, showing off the closed notebook before putting it back into his bag.

"Be careful," you giggled, "if it falls out the entire bag will be full of petals, and even when you’d think you got them all out, you'd find a couple more a few days later."

"Are you speaking from experience?" he asked cheekily.

"Why of course not! I was born a professional," you stuck your nose up indignantly, making him laugh.

"Of course you were, how could I forget," he offered you his hand and helped you up.

As you walked together back to the school building, you had a feeling you forgot something, or like something was missing. You looked back at the place you were sitting in seconds ago, but there was nothing there.

"Everything alright?" Damien asked.

"Yeah, everything's great," you answered, squeezing his hand that was clutched in yours.

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When the second ball was approaching, Damien had started to send you love letters. Every time you had gotten one, you felt your heart pick up its pace, a smile stretching on your face. Some of them were poems, some quotes, some just sentences, you didn't know which he wrote and which he read and thought of you. You took to the habit of saving them all in a small box in your room, going through them every couple of days.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists, the reality of everything ~Virginia Woolf

Every one of them was simply signed with three x's, signifying kisses. You smiled as you put the most recent one into your pocket, intent on putting it with the rest later.

Some days, you'd get small notes, and some days would be a rather large page. You loved both.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

You resonated with the words, you've always loved poems. Weirdly, you've never talked to Damien about your love of them, but you guessed he just… knew. That's what made him so special.

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

That one made you stop in your tracks for a moment. It made you think of Steve. He didn't really bring you flowers anymore. Well, maybe he just didn't find any new ones.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

~Shakespeare

You smiled brightly as you read the note. You were getting new ones every other day. Amongst the chaos of exams, it was nice, knowing that's the way he had to keep in touch with you. You were just done reading it when your friend came up behind your back, reading over your shoulder.

"Oh, did Damien bring you this?" she smiled. "You guys are so cute together."

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you The love of all man’s days both past and forever: Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life. The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours – And the songs of every poet past and forever.

~ Rabindranath Tagore

That last one you found in the library copy of "The Count of Monte Cristo". You gravitated towards it every time you were anxious, or couldn't sleep, or both. It was a comfort. Finding the note there nearly made you cry; the long day you've had mixed with the love you felt bringing tears to your eyes. You blinked them away with a smile, stuffing the note in your pocket before starting to read the book.

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Steve saw you open the book and get the note. He smiled to himself.

He didn't know if this would work, or if you'd think your boyfriend wrote them. He just wanted to make you smile.

He also wanted to make you know, make you understand what he was feeling. But you weren't exactly emotionally available right now, so Steve did the best he could; he waited.

In the meantime, he went to search for another poetry book. He was surprised you hadn't recognized his handwriting yet. He did write it a bit more neatly than he usually did, with more careful attention.

Maybe she recognized it but didn't want to say anything. Maybe that was a pitying smile, whispered a voice in his head. He shook it off.

He knew you weren't his, but he couldn't give up hope. He could wait some more.

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The spring / end of the year ball was approaching in giant steps. You were done with your exams, and already had a dress, which you adamantly refused to show Damien despite his repeated pleas. Now, you were spending an afternoon outside, enjoying the fresh air picnicking with some of your friends, who were playing a card game you couldn't care to learn the rules of. You were taking photos instead, borrowing one of your friends' camera and taking some pictures of them playing, of the scenery.

"Has Damien asked you to the ball yet?" one of them asked.

"Oh, not yet," you shrugged, "I'm sure he will though. I mean, you've seen the notes he sent me," you giggled, "I don't see another option."

Just then, you saw a figure coming towards you from afar. In the other direction, you saw Damien approaching, and before you had a chance to wonder about the other person, he was there, planting a kiss on your cheek. You put the camera down on the blanket and smiled at him.

"Speaking of the devil," your friend chuckled.

"Only good things, I hope," he sat down next to you.

"Of course," you laughed and leaned away from him to snap his picture, "what else could we have said?"

"Well, that's great, because I was wondering," he took a breath, "do you want to see me do a card trick?"

"Yes, sure," you said, slightly confused but still smiling.

He held up a card. "Could you tell me what card this is?"

"A leaf ace," you said.

"Great," he flipped it around in his hands a couple of times, before pulling off a complicated hand movement you couldn't keep track of, and was now holding a small, card sized mirror. "Now, could you tell me what card this is?"

"It's… a mirror," you said, puzzled.

"Look closer," he encouraged.

"Still a mirror, Dames," you chuckled.

"No, it’s a queen of hearts!" he laughed, "my heart, more specifically," he leaned in closer and smiled. "Would you go to the ball with me?"

"Yes! Of course I will!" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Just then, you heard the shutter of the camera clicking, and broke apart from him, laughing.

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The night of the ball finally arrived. You were in Damien's room, getting ready, when you finally had the mind to say, "Oh, Damien, I don't think I ever thanked you for the notes," you smiled at him from the other corner of the room. He was standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie, while you were sitting on the bed, already in your dress, which you finally let him see.

"Oh, from last week's lecture? No problem love," he smiled at you, your eyes meeting through the mirror.

"No," you giggled, "I meant the notes you've been leaving me."

He looked at you, puzzled. "You know, the notes with the– oh come on, don’t play dumb," you scoffed playfully.

"I'm not," he said, "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about." He finished the knot and came to stand in front of you, offering you his hand and helping you up. You stood in front of him, squinting.

"Okay," you said after a few moments. Smiling, you noticed his collar was partly stuffed under his tie, raising your hand to fix it and –

"Oh," you frowned softly.

You knew who wrote the notes. You knew all along. I mean, how couldn't you recognize the handwriting of the person you know the best? Who knows you better than anyone else?

The person you've been neglecting the past few months. And yet, he was sending you love letters. You felt like crying, because you should've known it was him. More than that, you should've realized; you love him too.

You love him so much it nearly hurts. The man with flowers in his hand and stars in his eyes, the one who took you to every bookstore you ever wanted to visit, who gave you his jacket when you were cold, who knew not only what your favorite book was, but also what copy of it you would take.

As good as Damien was to you, he was never the one for you. He was charming, lovable for sure.

But he wasn't your Steve.

Your Steve who was probably going to the ball alone, or maybe not even going.

"Is everything okay?" Damien asked, a concerned frown on his features.

"No, I- look, Damien," you took a deep breath. "I owe you an explanation, and I swear, I will give it to you, but I just… I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean can't do this anymore? Do you not want to go to the ball or-"

"No," you closed your eyes forcefully before opening them, "us. I don't think we should be together anymore."

"Where is this coming from? Love, is everything o-"

"It's not okay, Damien!" tears welled up in your eyes, "It's not fair to you, I know. But I just… I have to go," you stepped away from his embrace.

"Go where? You're not making any sense, please, can you just-"

"I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry, but I have to go. I promise I'll explain everything, just… not right now," you said shakily, fumbling to collect your things before leaving the dorm, and a stunned Damien in your wake.

You weren't sure where you were going, you just knew you had to find him.

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You roamed the corridors in a bit of a daze until you finally realized your legs were carrying you to the library, and shook your head, deciding to go there anyway since there was a decent chance Steve was there.

He wasn't. You knocked on his dorm room door, but he didn't answer it, so he probably wasn't there either. You went to sneak a look at the ball, but you didn't find him there too.

You were just about to give up when you looked out of one of the windows. There, you saw the small glass gazebo that was a little further away from the building. The light was on, and there was someone there. You couldn't tell if it was Steve, but you figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

You went down the stairs and outside. The night was surprisingly crisp, and the dress you were wearing had short sleeves, but you continued anyway. As you got closer, you could see the silhouette clearer; it was indeed Steve.

You stopped a few yards next to it. Now that you found him, you didn't know what to say. I'm sorry didn't feel like enough, and –

Your train of thought was cut off by Steve turning around, his eyes locking with yours through the large glass windows. You swallowed heavily.

He went outside, crossing the distance and standing in front of you. Both of you were quiet for a moment before he spoke up.

"Not going to the ball?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I feel like it's obvious I'm not going. Where's your boyfriend?"

"I don't know."

Silence settled between you for a couple of minutes, each one of you absorbed in your own thoughts. Eventually, you were the one to speak up this time.

"I know you wrote them, Steve."

He chuckled. "Okay. What do you want me to say?"

"That you meant them," your voice broke with emotion, not knowing how true the words were until your lips uttered them out loud.

"I did. I do. I can't say I'm sorry for that."

"You shouldn't be," you said, "I'm that one that should be sorry. I am sorry," you looked up at him, your eyes sincere. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was you sooner. And I don't mean the notes, Steve," you stepped closer to him.

"Then what do you mean?"

You licked your lips hesitantly, bringing your face closer to his. You didn't know which one of you finally broke the distance, but suddenly his lips were on yours, and it's all you could think about. You were kissing Steve Rogers, and it was enchanting. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You melted into his touch as your hands tangled in the soft hair on the nape of his neck. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek gently, and suddenly you were both smiling so hard you broke apart, gasping for air. Your foreheads stayed connected, leaning on each other as you slowly opened your eyes.

"This," you whispered, "I mean this. I love you, Steve."

"I love you too," Steve laughed, "so much. I was afraid you will never say that. That I'd never get to hear you say that to me. I love you," he said again, his eyes looking into yours.

Just at that moment, it bizarrely started to rain. "Really?" you looked up at the sky, "it's spring! Hell, it's almost summer!"

"Maybe it's summer rain," Steve suggested with a smile.

"But it ruined our moment," you playfully pouted.

"We always have another one," he smiled, pulling you in for another kiss, not minding the rain that was now wetting your dress, his suit. You felt the raindrops fall on the top of your heads, but the sensation was a thin echo compared to Steve's lips on yours.

A thunder roared, and you broke apart once again.

"Maybe we should get inside," you suggested.

"Maybe we should," he grinned, "last one there is a rotten egg!"

He started running before you could even register what he said. Just like he did when you were kids.

"Wait!" you laughed, running after him, gathering your skirt in your hands, "Not fair! I have a dress!"

He stopped and ran back to you before picking you up with ease, carrying you bridal style to the entrance and putting you down right on the threshold.

"You're a rotten egg, Stevie," you giggled.

He looked down to see that indeed, your legs were technically inside while his weren't.

"Don't worry," you cupped his cheek and tilted it upwards so he'd meet your gaze, "you're my rotten egg."

You both laughed before you went inside. He offered you his arm and you wove yours through it, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Taking your time, you strolled through the corridors in comfortable silence until you reached your room. You came inside and turned on the heating, Steve right on your heels, hugging you from behind.

"I can't believe it's raining," you looked out of the window with a smile.

"I can't believe you're mine," he whispered into your neck.

You tilted your head back to kiss him softly before you involuntarily shivered. Wordlessly, Steve guided you to the bed, tucking you into the blanket. He was about to leave, but you opened your blanket and gestured for him to come cuddle you. He chuckled and climbed in next to you, wrapping his arms around you again.

"Tell me a story," you said as you laid your head on his chest.

"Once upon a time," he started, "there was a very beautiful princess. And she chose a normal boy. No one knew why she did it. They asked her, 'why not a prince?' and sh-"

"And she said she didn't like princes, but she loved the boy more than anything else," you smiled.

"Wow, more than big libraries?" he chuckled.

"Yes, even more than big libraries," you giggled. Humming contently, you snuggled even closer to him, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

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Which brings us to where we started this story, the next morning.

The story Steve's eyes told you that morning was better than any other story you've ever heard. It was a love story that you would tell your children, and your grandchildren.

And every time Steve heard you telling it, he sat and listened with a smile.

You once asked him why he always listens to that story, it's not like he didn't know it, he lived it.

"I did live it," he answered, "but I still live it, every single day. And it gets better with each day," he leaned down to kiss you.

Steve Rogers was the most wonderful of men, and over the years he grew to be the most wonderful of husbands, of fathers and of grandfathers.

You both grew, but there was one thing that stayed the same – his heart was yours, and your heart was his; forever.

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flower meanings:

Rose – love.

Honeysuckle - pure happiness, sweet love, devoted affection.

Hydrangea - gratitude, grace, beauty, abundance. some colors also symbolize bad luck.

Hibiscus - variously symbolizes health, delicacy, beauty, respect and hospitality.

Rhododendron – beware.

p.s. - the meanings are based on my limited searches, also there are some flowers with more than one meaning:)

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i’d love it if you’d want to tell me your thoughts!! if you’ve stuck through this entire thing - thank you!!!<3

Taglist: @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

#chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #Steve Rogers x Female Reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #dark academia fic

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sfb123 · 3 years

Text

Sapere Aude - Part 13

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

If you’re new to Sapere Aude, please click the link above to start from the beginning. There’s so much going on right now that you’ll be way too confused to start from this point. Plus, there are some major bombshells that won’t be as fun if you read this and get a bunch of spoilers.

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Trigger Warning: There is a brief moment of physical abuse, it’s not much, but I definitely wanted to mention it and give a fair warning.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Disclaimer: I have no current affiliation with any other Via Imperii themed stories. Any claims that I have pre-read anything are false.

Word Count: 2,383

A/N: I know you’ve all been on the edge of your seats wondering what was going to happen, the answer is a lot. This is a pretty big chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Thanks to my pre-reading babes, @jessiembruno & @txemrn. And to @twinkleallnight for my lovely moodboard!

Tags: Listed below, hit me up to be added or removed.

“Um...actually, it’s about the queen. Your majesty, you need to come with me, and we need to send some additional guards along with us.”

Liam’s face paled at Thomas’s words. “Where is my wife, Thomas?” He kept his voice quiet, so that he wouldn’t upset his daughter but his tone was stern and authoritative.

“I believe she is at the old Fierro estate, and time may be of the essence.”

“Li, go. We’re all here, we can take care of Eleanor.” Drake chimed in.

Liam nodded. “Bastien, please send as many guards as you can immediately, and prepare the car for us. Thomas, go with him and tell him everything you know so that we can fill the team in.” Both men bowed and quickly exited the room. Liam walked over to Eleanor, sitting in the chair next to her. “Eleanor, I need to step out and pick up mommy, ok? Your auntie and uncles will be here to play with you until we get back.”

“Can I come with you?” She asked hopefully.

Liam took a deep breath before answering her. “I’m sorry princess, but I need to go by myself. But you have a very important job here. Since Valtoria is your home, you need to host our guests. Being a hostess is something you will need to do a lot when you become queen, so this will be wonderful practice. Do you think you’re up for it?”

She nodded her head rapidly. “Yes daddy, I will be the best hostess!”

“Good. Now go with Uncle Drake, and mommy and I will see you when we get home.” He pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek as they pulled apart.

Eleanor ran to Drake, taking his hand and pulling him toward the door. “C’mon Uncle Drake, I’m the hostess.” Drake chuckled before looking back at Liam and giving him a reassuring nod.

Liam waited a few moments to make sure that Drake and Eleanor were out of his path before rushing out of the room and toward the front entrance. The car was waiting for him, Bastien holding the back door open for Liam to enter. He jumped in and Bastien shut the door behind him, quickly jumping into the driver's seat. The SUV’s wheels squealed as it rushed toward the gates.

“How far out are the guards?” Liam asked.

“We had a team training not too far from the estate, they should be arriving shortly. They have been briefed.” Bastien replied, looking at Liam through the rearview mirror.

“Excellent. Would someone care to brief me now? Where is my wife?” Liam commanded.

Bastien looked over at Thomas, who was seated next to him. “Thomas, please explain to his majesty the current situation.”

Thomas took a deep breath, his hands nervously balling into fists. “Of course. You see sir, there is an organization, the Via-”

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, interrupting Thomas. “Thomas, please spare me. I know about the Via Imperii, Riley has been telling me about the meetings, the plans, everything.”

“Everything?” There was a slight crack in Thomas’s voice as he looked back at Liam. If she had told him everything, Liam knew who he was.

“Yes Thomas, everything, including our relationship. Right now, that is the last thing I am concerned with. I need you to tell me what they are doing to Riley, and what we need to do to get her out.”

“Unfortunately, I do not know much. I’m sure you were made aware of the conflict between her majesty and Lord Neville. Well it appears that he and Mara have lured her to the estate under the guise of a meeting with our chapter president. I don’t know what they are planning to do from there.”

Liam’s jaw clenched as he ran a hand through his hair. “Bastien, remind me again why we didn’t dismiss Mara after her charge, the queen, my wife, was kidnapped at our wedding? It seems like grounds for termination to me.”

“She went through a thorough re-training process, and passed all of the associated tests. It was determined that she was able to adequately perform her duties.” Bastien replied.

“Adequate is not acceptable for protecting the life of a Queen. We need exceptional as the bare minimum. She should have never been cleared to return to such a high profile duty. We will be having a meeting immediately to review protocol and standards.” The mixture of concern and rage swirling inside of Liam was becoming overwhelming, he was having trouble thinking straight. He turned to look out the window, taking deep breaths to regain some level of composure.

***

“Since rational discussion is not going to be an option here, I guess we’re going to have to go to plan b, elimination.” Neville said to Mara as they sat across from each other, Riley tied to the chair at the head of the table.

Riley laughed. “Sure, elimination. I bet that will work out great for you. It’s super easy to just make a reigning queen disappear.”

“We have been successful in doing it with two out of the last four queens. What do you think makes you so special?” Neville turned his attention to Riley, genuinely curious to know her reasons.

“Well first of all, Eleanor was in on the plan, so she doesn’t count, so it’s actually one out of four. And second, I’m sure Liam and the rest of the guards, the loyal ones,” she looked poignantly at Mara, “are on their way. I’ve been gone long enough that Liam has definitely already had them ping the location of my phone.”

Mara pulled a phone out of her pocket and waved it in front of Riley with a smug grin on her face. “It has been powered off since I pulled it from your pocket as you were getting into the car.” She placed it on the table and slid it toward Riley.

“Any more smart remarks?” Neville asked, standing from his seat. He approached Riley, taking her face in his hand and leaning in close. “The fairytale is over Riley, and the ending isn’t quite as happy as you thought.”

Riley could feel her nerves starting to take over. Yes, Liam would be missing her right now, but how was he going to find her? She felt her heart rate increase, trying to keep her composure. She had been through this before. For as much as she hated Anton, she had to give him credit, he was much better at this than Neville was. If she could survive that, she could figure out a way out of this.

She thought back to that night at the abandoned castle, she needed to channel that version of herself again. And she certainly couldn’t let Neville know he was getting to her. “What happened? You couldn’t find a woman to kiss you out of being a frog faced asshole? Or you did and it just didn’t work?”

“That’s enough!” the back of Neville’s hand abruptly met with Riley’s face, the force of the impact almost knocking the chair over. She moved her jaw back and forth several times, trying to assess the damage as best she could with her hands tied behind her back. “Mara, do we have anything to gag her with?”

Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door. Neville and Mara looked at each other in confusion, nobody else knew about the plan. “Well?” Neville raised his hands in frustration. “You’re the security guard, go assess the damn threat!”

Mara jumped to her feet and opened the door to find Eleanor on the other side. “Ah Mara, I heard you and Queen Riley had stopped by, I’m so glad I was able to catch you.” She didn’t wait for Mara to respond before brushing past her and entering the room. “Lord Neville, I didn’t know you would be using one of our meeting rooms today. You didn’t clear it through the proper channels. What have we got here?” Eleanor walked straight past Neville and went right to Riley. She took in her appearance, noticing a red mark on her cheek and a small trail of blood running down her face. Her eyes were watering, but she hadn’t shed a single tear. Eleanor was impressed by the strength she was showing under these circumstances. She gave Riley a subtle wink before taking a seat and motioning for Mara and Neville to do the same. “Now, should we talk about where you plan to take things from here, considering you clearly haven’t thought this scheme all the way through?”

“We’re going to do what this organization has done for years, eliminate the threat. Maybe we will be more successful in the king’s next social season, and get a cooperative queen in place.” Neville replied.

Riley took a shaky breath, but the idea of her being taken away from her family was too much for her to bear. The tears she had been holding back broke free, and she began sobbing. Eleanor walked back over to Riley and knelt down in front of her. “It’s alright dear, you aren’t going anywhere.” She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before standing and turning her attention back to her captors. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much time and careful planning goes into enacting an elimination plan? You can’t just decide to kill the queen and expect that everything will go off without a hitch!”

As if on cue, the door burst open and several members of the King’s Guard entered with their weapons drawn. Mara immediately drew her weapon and aimed it at Neville. “Hands in the air, Lord Vancoeur.”

“Drop the weapon Mara.” One of the guards commanded.

Mara continued acting as if she was assisting in the rescue efforts, ignoring the guard’s warning. “I’m glad you guys got here, I was having trouble calling for backup to save the -”

A loud pop filled the room, Riley flinched, keeping her eyes closed for a moment. When she opened them, she saw Mara laying on the ground in a pool of blood as two guards rushed Neville and took him into custody. Two more pulled Eleanor away from Riley and forced her hands behind her back. “Stop!” Riley ordered, causing both guards to look up. “She is not a part of this, she was here rescuing me. Let her go.” The guards complied, and Eleanor went back to Riley’s side, quickly undoing the fastenings that bound her to the chair. As soon as she was free, Riley stood and rubbed each of her wrists before raising a hand to her face, gently placing it on the spot that Neville had hit, and moved her jaw back and forth a couple more times. She looked at Eleanor, her eyes welling up again. “You...you saved me.”

“Of course, dear. I told you I wouldn’t let them take you away from your family.” Riley wrapped her arms around Eleanor and pulled her into a hug. Eleanor could hear her hitched breathing and knew she had begun to cry. “It’s ok Riley, you’re safe now. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

***

Liam was lost in his thoughts, watching the scenery go by as they neared the estate. The sound of Thomas’s phone ringing took him out of his thoughts. He quickly moved his attention to the front of the car, listening intently to Thomas’s answers to the person on the other end. They were simple, one word answers, and he was unable to read any kind of emotion in his voice. “Well?” Liam said, before Thomas had even fully moved the phone away from his ear. “Is Riley ok?” The seconds it took to get his response felt like an eternity for Liam.

“Yes your majesty, Riley is safe. Lord Vancoeur has been taken into custody, and Mara was killed. Queen Riley is safe and awaiting our arrival.”

Liam breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in his seat. He was glad she was safe, but he needed to get there. He needed to see it for himself, to hold her, to kiss her. He needed to get her home where he could protect her.

The car pulled up to the front of the estate, and before it could come to a complete stop, Liam had jumped out and ran to the door. He burst into the estate frantically sticking his head into every doorway looking for her. Finally, he approached a large sitting area with a fireplace running, and there she was, silently watching the flames dance. “Riley? Love?”

Riley blinked a couple of times before turning and meeting Liam’s gaze. “Liam…” her voice was barely above a whisper as she slowly stood to greet him.

He rushed to her, immediately pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly as he kissed the top of her head. He pulled back, taking her face in his hands. The pressure of his touch on her still tender cheek made her wince in pain. Liam removed his hands and examined her face. “Riley, who did this to you?” He tried to keep calm, not wanting to cause her any more stress or pain.

“Stupid fucking Neville. I made some frog prince joke and he decided to heckle me with the back of his hand.”

Liam clenched his jaw, and took a deep breath. He would deal with Neville, but for now, he needed to be with his wife. “Riley, I am so sorry that you had to go through this. I should never have let you do this. It could have been so much worse.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, he noticed the marks on her wrist from the restraints, and turned his head to kiss them softly. “But it’s not, because Eleanor, your mother, saved me.”

“My...why would she do that?”

“Because I couldn’t let you lose her.” A lump formed in Liam’s throat at the sound of the voice behind him. He hadn’t heard it in years, but he had never forgotten it. He turned around and as soon as they locked eyes, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “Hello, Liam.”

Permatag:

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Sapere Aude:

@burnsoslow @busywoman @gardeningourmet @ofpixelsandscribbles @tinkie1973

Liam x Riley:

@jared2612

Liam:

@amandablink @yourmajesty09

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iwantitiwriteit · 3 years

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Slow Burn: Book I - Part 7

The Lunch - Small Thank You’s

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: You and Chris get to know each other better over a flirty friendly lunch.

Warnings: Fluff, spinkle of Angst, Profanity, phonetic spelling of words said in a Boston accent because I needed a laugh

Notes: Hey loves! Hope you all are well! It’s been a while— praying I didn’t forget how to write too bad and y’all enjoy this installment lol. Little FYI: I’m basing the reader’s music off of that of Banks and SZA. Before you dive in, set the mood with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

The GPS said the drive from the museum to the restaurant would be… well, you were distracted from that bit of information. Not that it would matter. Chris keeps making turns against the suggested route, citing that this was “his city” and that he’s a “real Boston boy”.

What you do know is that the talking and laughing with Chris made the car ride seem all too short. Pointing out familiar streets and landmarks, he lit up telling you his childhood stories laced within the city. Pardon, his city. The glint in his eyes and excitement in his voice sent tiny sparks up your spine, but you did your best to ignore it.

Chris tried to guess where you had the two of you going for lunch. You, however, wouldn’t give in to his guesses. Eventually, you arrive at a market of sorts, a culture clash of small businesses and patrons. It’s in an area Chris is familiar with, but he never thought much of coming to.

“I thought we were going to a restaurant?” Chris inquires, not seeing a food establishment from his spot in the driver’s seat.

You puff out your jaw, squint your eyes, and proceed with your best ‘Godfather’-like impersonation as you tell Chris,“I thought you would’ve learned to stop asking me questions by now, hm.”

“That... was horrible.” Chris’ deadpan causes you to giggle in response.

“I know! Now c’mon; I’m starved!” You draw out as you reach to let yourself out of the car.

“Woah, woah, hold on,” Chris stops you with a gentle hand on your arm. You questioningly look over your shoulder at him. He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. Settling back into your seat with a huff of delighted shock, you realize what he’s doing.

Chris jogs to your door, the returning drizzle giving him a sense of urgency. He opens the door for you then offers his upturned, open hand for you to choose to take. You hesitate for a millisecond before obliging, delicately placing your smaller hand in his large palm.

You’re unsure of the last time anyone was this... chivalrous to you. Trying not to dwell on it too long, you give him a soft-spoken ‘thank you’. Chris responds with an equally soft ‘of course’. You both find it difficult to meet each other's eyes, missing the shy smile the other is sporting.

“Lead the way,” Chris gently prompts with a hand extended in the market's direction.

Mildly busy, the market is livened by business people, college students, housewives and househusbands alike. Store fronts of small businesses ranging from sustainable fashion to high-end housewares line the long cobble stone path, accented by fairy lights for added whimsy. Chris curiously takes in the sights from beneath a low baseball cap and hoodie. He’s sure to not let his eyes linger too long for fear of locking with anyone.

Meanwhile, you’re walking with purpose, leaving a distracted Chris behind. He catches up when he notices you turn a corner in his periphery. When he follows the path you took, he finds you by a green, white, and red beaded archway.

You pause and look up at Chris, a playful grin on your lips that makes his heart skip a beat. He’s looking down at you, brows raised with utter anticipation. You think this might be your favorite expression on him. You pull back and step through the beaded entrance, Chris following suit closely behind you.

“Woah…” It was almost as if that small act of stepping over the threshold transported you both to Sicily. The faint notes of Italian standards play in the background as Chris gawks at the charming restaurant.

The mostly occupied dining area is quaint, housing about 10 tables max, including a couple of booths. The walls are decorated with floor-to-ceiling built-in shelves of libations from Italy. The alcohol display is interrupted by creeping vert vines that add that little bit of spice to the space.

As a waiter walked by, Chris breathed in deeply, the warm aroma of marinara sauce, freshly baked bread and Italian spices filled his nose and lungs.

“How’d you manage to find the one Italian restaurant in the greater Boston area I’ve never been to, much less heard of?”

“Hmmm… must not be as much of a Boston boy as you think,” you say with a wink, and Chris scoffs through his lopsided smirk.

“There she is!” a bellowing voice familiar to you draws yours and Chris’ attention away from each other. Chris looks on as the short, husky man pulls you in for a cheek-to-cheek kiss. “It’s been too long! Mi sei mancata la faccia!”

“Charlie, you know I have no idea what you’re saying, but I like the way you say it!” You share a laugh with your Uber driver-turned-friend. “And what do you mean ‘it’s been too long’! I was just here last week.”

“5 days ago to be exact. 5 days since you, ya castmates… most importantly ya directah,” Charlie stresses lustfully in his strong Boston accent, “have swarmed Ma’s restaurant. Whassup with that, huh?”

“The real question here is what’s up with your crush on Sonya, huh?” you tease him. Charlie’s smitteness with your director has not gone unnoticed.You can practically see the hearts forming in his eyes at this moment.

“I doan know what ya tawkin about.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“Enough abowut it! Let’s get ya seated and you can tell me who’s ya new friend,” Charlie says, motioning to Chris.

When you’re seated in a corner booth by a rainy window, you introduce the two men.“ This is Chris, my, uh…um…” You hadn’t really thought about what to call your relationship with Chris. It’s been… rocky up until this point, and while you’ve been friendly, you’re certainly not friends. Not yet, at least.

Chris notices and understands your hesitance, a small part of him hoping it’s because you don’t want to friend-zone him. “It’s alright, don’t worry your pretty, little head about it,” he teases you, earning him an eye roll. “We’re… acquaintances, right?”

“Right! Acquaintances… I guess?” It didn’t feel right, a little too impersonal, but you’ll roll with it for now.

“‘Acquaintances’?” Charlie sizes Chris up, a comical sight considering the dramatically different statues of the two men. He tilts his head and squints at Chris’ face, his expression melting from intimidation to inquisition. Chris tenses, knowing the look he’s being given all to well. “Been here before, Chris? You look mighty familiah…”

“Umm… no... I don’t… don’t believe so,” Chris answers almost timidly. The avoidant gaze into the plastic covered menu, the heated cheeks that shone the same color as a tomato— you know that look all too well. You decide to do what you hoped someone would do for you.

“He’s just got one of those faces! But um, I’m ready to order if you are?” you try to deflect. Charlie doesn’t think much of it and takes down your meal decisions, but that small act means the world to Chris. He mouths ‘thank you’ from across the booth, and you smile and tip your head in a slight nod, sure he would’ve done the same for you.

You order your usual, spaghetti with vegan meatballs, and a glass of the house white wine. Chris has what you’re having except he’s ordered a “tonic”, which you learned the hard way the other night is Bostonian for soda. Charlie is back promptly with your drinks and breadsticks and ensures that your food will arrive shortly with a small smirk on his face that you don’t think too much of.

It’s quiet at your table for quite some time. Both you and Chris take small sips from your glasses, nibble at the garlic-y bread, look out the window and around the restaurant. As you do so, you run through a list of conversation starters in your head but you’ve deemed them all too dumb, too boring or too invasive. Why the hell do I care so much? You glance up at Chris and wonder if he’s going through the same irrational inner turmoil you are. Maybe he’s not, or maybe he’s overcome his when he finally breaks the silence.

“So, um… how long have you been a vegan?”

“Um… how long have we been shooting this movie? My character— she’s very, uh… power to the people— and plants,” You chuckle out. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try myself. Go a little method,” you say with a shrug.

Chris waves his breadstick at you as he asks, “You believe in all that method stuff?”

“I don’t know… I’m really new to this whole acting thing, but I guess I just like the idea of really connecting with this character in every way I can. She reminds me so much of myself at that age.”

“How so?” Chris presses on.

“She’s… sure. She’s sure of herself… of her judgements and decisions. She’s sure of her hand in her own success. And that breeds this really un-fuck-with-able confidence in her that if I had an ounce of, it’d be over for you hoes,” you end with a slow nod and look off into the distance.

Chris laughs at your dramatics, but it dawns on him what you’ve shared. “Wait… you’re telling me that’s not you now? I mean, I know I’ve only known you a short time, but you seem pretty un-fuck-with-ably confident to me.”

“Ha! Guess I’m a better actress than I thought,” you mutter. Chris knows it’s meant to be a joke, but watching as you fiddled with the rings on your finger, his chest tightened. A look of sympathy must’ve shown on his face, because you start to wish you hadn’t said anything at all. Did I just overshare? God, I thought I outgrew that.

To save you from your minor embarrassment is Charlie with the same smirk from earlier. He gently places the order in the center of your table, and you finally understand what his face was trying to give away earlier.

“We’re, uh… runnin’ low on plates...” is Charlie’s half-baked explanation. “Buon appetito!” he offers before hastily leaving.

Sat between you and Chris was the meal you ordered, yes, but on the single largest plate you think you’ve ever seen. One plate of spaghetti for two people— two practical strangers— to share. The embarrassment just won’t stop, will it?

Elbow perched on the table, your hand acts as a visor of sorts on your forehead as you massage away the headache forming at your temple. You can’t see Chris, just hear him chuckling and breathing out an “oh man…” under his breath. His fork comes into view as he twirls the pasta onto it. You peek under your hand up at him.

“What? Not gonna just look at it!” Chris insists. “Now, let’s see what this vegan meatball is about… DAMN! That tastes legit!” You giggled at his enthusiasm and felt your tension melt away.

You began to dig in as well. It was fine, normal even, for a few moments. You could almost forget you’re sharing one big ass plate of pasta with one of Hollywood’s most sought after stars at a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. Yep, very normal. As long as I keep from oversharing the rest of this afternoon, everything should be fine… you thought to yourself.

“Tell me… how are you liking Boston?” Chris asks.

“It’s fine.”

“‘Fine’?! Just fine.”

“It’s great Chris, no need to get your panties in a twist. But, ya know… It’s just not…”

“Home? Yeah, I get that. Where’s home for you?”

“Um… well I guess home has never been a single place for me. It’s with people I love, as cheesy as that sounds. Home is where my heart is…” you trail off as you remember you shouldn’t share too much.

“And your heart is with family, friends… a boyfriend…?” Chris slips in.

“What is this? 20 questions?” You quip as you sip on your white wine.

“Maybe... if you want. You can ask me something.”

“Hmm… Ok…” You ponder over what to ask him as you twirl your pasta around your fork. “What is… mm no. How about… nah, wait.” Chris huffs impatiently as he awaits your first question. “Ok! I got it!”

“Alright, lay it on me.” Your breath hitches at his word choice and you hope doesn’t notice. Why’d he have to say it like that?! You clear your throat and ask your question.

“What’s your favorite song of mine?”

“Really? That’s your question? So conceited…”

You giggle before explaining, “Well, I only ask ‘cos a little Scottie told me he saw you, and I quote, ‘full on rocking out’ to one of my songs. I’m just curious which one it was.” You sip on your straw and peer up at Chris, watching for his reaction.

Chris groans, covering his face while sinking down the booth seat. You can’t hear too much of what he's saying behind his hands and over your laughter, but it sounds like he’s cursing Scott’s name. When he finally restores some gumption, he places his hands on his napkin, eyes fixated on his fingertips picking at the dampened corners. Teeth sunk into your bottom lip, you try your best to bite back your amusement to not further Chris’s obvious embarrassment.

“Ok…” Chris sighs out, “ I’ll admit it! I’m man enough to own up to it,” he shrugs. “Yes, I was ‘full on rocking out’ to your music. You’re amazing at what you do.”

Your face heats up, not expecting the compliment. You don’t know what to say. It’s not like you’ve never heard it before. In fact you’ve heard it a lot the past couple of years, you’d thought you’d become numb to it. Yet, for some reason, sitting across from Chris, his eyes looking tenderly into yours, the compliment you’ve heard a million times before just… hits different. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You clear your throat and break eye contact with Chris. “You still haven’t answered my question, though...”

“Right! Hold on…” Chris says as he fishes his phone from his front pocket. He scrolls through his music app to find the playlist he’s made of his favorite songs of yours. Your cheeks burn even more intensely as you watch. “‘Gemini Feed’ is my favorite to dance to; hands down! But I also really love ‘Drew Barrymore’; it’s fun… but sad, ya know? What am I saying; of course you know; it’s your song!”

You giggle in somewhat disbelief of watching Chris motherfucking Evans geek out over your songs!

“Well… this is a rare opportunity I have, to talk to the artist herself, that is. So, I have to ask, how did that song come about? From personal experience, I suppose?”

“Yeah… um, gosh. You want the full or abridged version of the story?”

“Full! Are you kidding me?!”

“Ok, ok! Well, it was right before my album was set to come out, and my boyfriend-at-the-time dumped me,” you laugh lightly at the now-funny memory. “After weeks of heated arguments and projecting his career insecurities on to me, he picked his final fight with me about how I was “acting too famous for him” and just ended things.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah... It completely caught me off guard. I couldn’t think straight in the studio that day, so I ended the session earlier and went to a party, per my best friend-slash-manager’s coercion. She’s a bad influence.”

“I like her style! Did the party help?” Chris asked.

“Well, it was on the higher-end of house parties, and I just wasn’t used to being around such an expensive lifestyle yet. But guess who was there because why wouldn’t he be?,” you exhale and roll your eyes as you reminisce.

Chris leaned in with intrigue. “The Ex?”

“Mm-hm. In my standard walk-in-the-party-scan of the room, I spot him. I should've known because that party was very much his scene, but what I wouldn't have guessed is that he'd be there with some other woman.”

“What?!”

You nod your head as you proceed to spill the tea to Chris. “This dude is there with another woman, after being out of a relationship for all of 8 hours. I think the worst part is that she looked nothing like me. Like, imagine the complete opposite of me to the hottest power, that was who was hanging all over that idiot.”

“He is a total idiot for letting you go.” You don’t know what to say to Chris’ statement and quite honestly forgot where you were, what you were talking about… “What happened next?”

“Right! We locked eyes for a moment and there wasn’t anything from him. No emotion at all. Like, he didn’t care that our relationship just ended. But then I had the thought that maybe we’d been over for a while and I had just been too distracted to realize and accept the party was over.”

“Jimi peeped what was up and got me out of there. I hoped that we could go home so that I could cry on her shoulder all night. Instead, she dragged me to a real house party. I so badly wanted to pity myself, but the energy there was too infectious to not enjoy; it felt like a 90s movie!”

“The next day, I went through my crazy ass camera roll, and I couldn’t help but... smile… and laugh! Then I thought about him, and how stupid he made me feel, and I don’t know… I kinda put all these weird, conflicting emotions into this one song, and felt better afterwards. Like I was turning a page.”

Chris didn’t immediately say anything, taking in the very personal story you shared. The somewhat unfortunate event that fueled his favorite lyrics. He looked at you carefully and quietly. However kind he looked in this moment, it didn't matter much to the creeping thoughts in your mind.

The silence made you self-conscious. You took inventory of your physical, how your face was hot, how your chest felt tight. Your left hand had somehow migrated into Chris’ right hand in the middle of the table. “I, uh— my bad…” you start as you take back your hand.

Chris quickly grabs your hand before it gets too far. “Thank you for sharing that story with me... and your music with the world. Your confidence in your vulnerability is really fucking inspiring. Thank you. Seriously, thank you,” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze for emphasis. He’s looking at you with a boyish smile and tilted head that makes you break down and smile at him, too.

“Thank you,” you return, just barely above a whisper.

——————————————————————————

You and Chris spent the rest of your time at L'amore Della Madre exchanging stories of love lost and life wins, sharing loud laughs and silent signs of admiration. To anyone on the outside looking in, it may have seemed like two had known each other longer than you actually have.

“I gotta say, I don’t like this,” Charlie whispers to you. He pulled you aside for a moment to say your goodbyes, while Chris waited for you outside. “Mostly becahse it was supposed to be my jahb to set you up with a nice Italian boy, but you’ve brought your own,” he says with a smirk.

“Oh, no! It’s not like that! Chris and I aren’t— wait… how’d you know he’s part Italian?“

“I have my sources… which may be the wait staff who are big fans of the guy. Here this is from them,” Charlie hands you a to-go box.”It’s tiramisu… for two,” he winks.

“Oh my god! I told you, we--”

“Will thank me at your wedding!” Charlie says as he waves you out of the door to the sidewalk where Chris is waiting.

“Wedding? Who’s getting married?” Chris asks.

You let out a sigh and shake your head. “Nobody. Want dessert?”

You and Chris small talk and walk and eat tiramisu on your way to the car. It was nice. It was normal. It felt… real. You didn’t realize how much you needed and missed small, yet meaningful moments like this until right now.

The pair of you stop in front of a pet shop window and watch the puppies play together for a moment. You pointed out a pair of snuggled up puppies to Chris. “Hey, they kinda look like us!”

Chris chuckles when he looks, “They do!” A chocolate brown puppy and a tannish-white one lie peacefully in one another’s presence without a care for the world on the other side of the glass. The tannish-white one starts to lick and nudge at the chocolate brown one, eliciting what you made out to be a sleepy smile from the brown pup. You don’t know why, but witnessing such intimacy causes you and Chris to straighten, fidgeting and giggling nervously.

“I had fun today.”

“As did I. You’re better company than I thought you’d be,” you joke.

“Uh… thanks?” He answers reluctantly, causing you to giggle. “Maybe we could… hang out again sometime…?”

“Maybe we could.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” There’s a beat of silence as you and Chris hold each other’s gaze. “So… you wanna take my number down?” you prompt him.

“Right! Right. Yeah, I should probably do that…” Chris stammers as he pulls out his phone. You take it from him, replacing it with your phone. You put in your number along with taking a silly picture for your contact, and he does the same.

Chris laughs at your shared child-like humor, and you revel in the moment. It was nice. It was normal. It was the first time you’d felt unmistakably connected with someone without feeling anxious of their motives or what the world thought of it in a very long time.

Time moved slowly when you were with Chris, it seemed to good to real life. But just like that, a flash snaps you and Chris out of your daze and back to reality.

You both look in the direction of the camera flash to find a young woman trying to pretend she didn’t just take a picture of the two of you. Chris turns back to you but doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead his head is hung low as he says “I really… hate that shit.”

“Preaching to the choir.” Chris looks up to your face, your gaze steady in the general direction of the perpetrator. “Makes me feel like an animal in a cage.” You say.

This is why Chris doesn’t mind celebrity companionship. You get it. You understand this strange aspect of his life that not many other people truly do. You also get the value of normalcy and privacy… and leaving when the party’s over.

“Let’s get out of here.” You say coldly and walk in the direction of the car.

Chris was baffled, to say the least. This was usually the part where you talk about how “fans” will cross invisible boundaries just because they know your face and name. However, you seemed uninterested in trauma bonding.

You were already buckled in when Chris caught up to you in the car. The energy the entire drive to your sister’s brownstone was… off. Nothing like it was earlier in the day. A simple flash changed your mood, and Chris was aching for it to go back to before. But no joke, or crank of the radio volume seemed to work.

When Chris pulls up to the curb, you immediately hop out, mumbling a final thank you to him.

“Hey,” Chris grabs your wrist gently, halting you, “You get kinda used to it. Ya know... after a while,” he says hoping you’d find comfort in his words.

You look down at where his hand was wrapped around your wrist. “Yeah… that’s what I'm afraid of... but thanks anyway.” Taking back your wrist from Chris, you turn to walk to the front door.

Chris is calling after you. He doesn't want to be emotionally intrusive, but he hopes you'll give him a chance to understand you. Help you. Comfort you. If only she'd turn around. You can't bear to look back at Chris. It will only remind you of everything good today, and why you can't have it.

Part 8 coming soon! What’d you think?

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans fluff #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans one shot #slow burn series

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cruzrogue · 3 years

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Arrow's Horizon

This is a fic that has risen due to a fic idea posted on this A03 site. Oliver becomes a dad to William, is a husband, still gets shipwrecked, leaving behind a wife.

Chapter 1 Home base - Oliver finds out he is a dad. Fears losing Felicity

In this story, Felicity is only 2 years younger than Oliver. The chapters are roughly 4 pages each (using word)

This is a completed story. The next chapter will be published in 3-4 days and the others will be on some set time table.

Chapter 1 Home Base

Felicity finds Oliver exactly where his mother said he’d be. His favorite thinking spot. Located at the outskirts of his family’s estate. Sitting on a tree stump overlooking a stream that is generously full due to the recent rainstorm. She knows he can hear her make her way towards him. He doesn’t skip a beat as he continues pitching rocks upon the body of water as the silence between them endures.

Finding a log nearby. She waits to be acknowledged.

Coming to Starling City for a few days during a weeklong school break. Oliver had her come here to meet his family. Now that they are more than just friends. Their next stop is Las Vegas to officially meet her mom. Everything is moving nicely she thinks. She really, really likes him.

Felicity doesn’t glance at Oliver as he is still throwing the stones into the flowing stream. Keeping her attention on the skips the pebble makes against the water.

Oliver had a visitor yesterday. Since then, he’s made some elaborate excuses to be alone. Giving her forced smiles. Leaving her to go to bed wondering if they were alright. Since walking onto a meeting between Oliver and some girl she has never met before. His whole demeanor is of someone who now has the whole world on his shoulders.

They both are known to need time to process whatever ails them alone. It never boarders on more than a day. Felicity isn’t pushy in that department but being that she is here in Starling. Away from her comfort zone. She feels that Oliver needs to understand that and maybe open up to her sooner rather than later.

Oliver in a low raspy whisper finally speaks, “I’m sorry.”

Felicity now able to see him clearly notices the red eyes. She has never in their time of acquaintance seen him cry. He is usually so upbeat.

“Oliver?” She wants to add something else, but the words don’t flow out fast enough as her boyfriend falls to his knees before her. It isn’t a romantic scene where one would see in a movie. No. This moment is in some ridiculous romantic flick where it looks to be the end for the couple. His name makes it out of her lips before he finally sheds some light on what is tormenting him.

“It was before you and I became a couple. I need you to know that.” She doesn’t know what he is trying to say. The confusion must show on her face as he clarifies, “You know that time I went out with the guys because I finally ended it with Laurel?”

She nods. Felicity was the creator of his moodboard for almost a month of listening to Oliver count the pros and cons of his relationship with his high school sweetheart. So many images, pieces of text hung on a board to help him visualize his desires. Going to college has opened his views on what he wants in life. If truth be told. Meeting Felicity has curbed a good faction of his partying ways.

“I was finally free.”

Not knowing where he is going with all this, “Okay.”

“I messed up.” He swiftly gets up and begins to walk away which has Felicity almost ready to bolt after him. When he stops and walks closer to her. She can breathe slightly easier as it looks that his intent is to pace back and forth as he continues his story.

When he finally gets to the part of his dilemma that has her gasp in shock. He knows he is about to lose the girl that owns his heart. He is scared shitless. Even so, he owes her the truth.

Oliver’s been out here alone thinking of how his life is going to dramatically change. Scared of losing Felicity Smoak to a mistake that he’s been regarding for the last few hours with a heavy heart.

Finding out Samantha Clayton is pregnant with his child. Coming to him knowing she is going to keep his baby. Everything changed in a blink of an eye. He is going to be a father.

Oliver finally stops pacing to face the music. He tells her everything.

In an unsteady breath knowing that whatever answer Oliver has could change everything, “What does this girl require of you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does she require you to try and playhouse with her? Is it financial?”

“We didn’t discuss anything in detail. Just…”

“That she is pregnant with your baby.” He nods.

“Felicity, I know this shifts how you’ll feel…” Her hand goes up to indicate for him to stop. He still adds, “I am so very sorry.”

She knows he is. In her heart she knows Oliver would never do anything to inflict pain on her. They got to know each other since meeting in a library. His inability to guide himself around a library's catalogue made her have pity on him. Turning her into the friendly guide that opened his world to library books. Nothing like the beginning of a friendship while teaching him how to identify and use a call number to find a specific book.

His sincerity pulls on her heart strings. Like him, she’ll need some alone time.

It doesn’t change the fact of how she feels. She is truly, madly, deeply in love with Oliver Jonas Queen. If bringing her here to meet his parents is any indication. His I adore you, you’re remarkable, and his soft voice that he uses when they’re just being them. He is also over-the-moon with her.

“Oliver.” His reaction is to look away, so she places her hands upon his face. Making sure she can glance into those saddened eyes, “I’ll need to figure my place in all this. That is if you’ll still want me in your life.”

He is up from his kneeling position, “Of course, I want you. I just don’t deserve you.”

Jumping to her feet. She isn’t letting him go.

“Hogwash!” For a brief second. There is a levity in his eyes, “Forget I just said that. You know what I mean. I am not walking away from you. Not saying all this won’t be tough.”

“Its nothing like the Cooper situation. A baby is a lifelong commitment.”

“Well, if you weren’t there to pull me back. I could have been a lifelong inmate in Guantanamo Bay or some fancy cyber jail.”

He cracks a smile, “I don’t think they send blondes there.”

“I’m actually…” He can’t help but sweep her off her feet. Their lips connecting. Felicity being in his arms brings optimism that wasn’t there when he came out here to agonize over some life choices. She brings balance and with her here. He can hope.

He almost blurs out how much he loves her. Glad to have caught himself from that blunder. Saying it now could confuse Felicity. She might think it’s not sincere. When he says it. It’s got to be at the right time where the woman he loves understands his words are true.

Felicity eyeing the small gathering of pebbles Oliver piled up beside the tree stump.

“Why don’t you go back home. Your parents are worried.”

“I don’t know what to tell them.”

With a hand on his arm, she tells him to be honest. Nodding to Felicity’s words a small moment of silence stretches between them.

“Okay then. I’m going to sit here for a while. Deplete a portion of your mighty impressive pile of rocks.”

“Wish me luck.”

Giving Oliver a quick hug they depart. Oliver heads back to his family’s home as Felicity takes a seat to contemplate the new norm of what their world will entail.

#Arrow horizon #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak

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mctherofdragons · 4 years

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In the Afterglow | 2 | F.W.

moodboard by @minty-malfoy.

Summary: The reader is married to George Weasley, and for all intents and purposes, he is the perfect husband. But, despite her best efforts to resist, Fred presents temptation she never knew she’d fall for.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Alternate Universe: No Voldemort AU

Rating: Mature, Future Chapters will Feature Explicit Content

Trigger Warnings: Angst, cussing, mild sexual content, mentions of extramarital affairs, cheating, nudity

Author’s Note: Let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list!

Taglist: @oh-for-merlins-sake @sunflowernarry @vivianweasley @haf-the-trash-panda @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @msmarklee1213 @n3ssm0nique @satellitespidey @michaylahpfan27 @girl22334 @starlightweasley @minty-malfoy @theweasleytwinsgirl

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November 10.

Fall had fully arrived in London, decorating the ground with crunchy orange and red leaves. You pulled a sweater out of your closet and pulled it on. Molly had knit it for you last Christmas. It was maroon with little flecks of grey throughout. Something about it being homemade made you love it more. Being wed into the Weasleys offered you a family you hadn’t had before. One that gave gifts and hugged on holidays; one that shared laughter and drinks far into the night on Christmas Eve; one that cared for you deeply and unconditionally. Your heart jumped a bit when you felt two arms around your waist suddenly.

“Hi honey,” George said, turning to kiss your lips. You kissed back, placing your hand on the back of his neck. A giggle escaped your lips as you moved your hands down to the cool touch of his trouser buttons. The autumn weather had made you more affectionate, seeking warmth in your husband’s arms.

“I have about an hour until I really have to leave. Dinner’s on in the slow cooker, so...I don’t have anything to occupy me for a while…”

But, as was typical lately, George didn’t fulfill your requests.

“I have to go get to the shop,” he pouted. You sighed with an honest attempt to hide your annoyance. When you and George had first married, intimacy was far more...exciting. He would steal you away into the back storage room of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, hoping Fred didn’t come wandering back. You lived in back-arching, toe-curling ecstasy for your first year of marriage. But now, when you actually got around to having sex, it had lost its thrill. George didn’t show or tell you much lately how much he loved you. It hurt, but you were too afraid to let him know that.

You didn’t really have anything to say that wouldn’t have been slightly cruel, so you huffed off to the bathroom to finish your makeup. George followed, leaning against the door frame. “I’m sorry,” he sounded genuine. “But I mean, I have to go to work, honey.”

“I know,” you said, leaning forward to apply mascara to your eyes. He came over and gave you a kiss behind your ear, which only made you grow more frustrated with his lack of fulfilling what you wanted.

“Yup,” you said, moving away from him. The sound of your heels clicking on the tile as you head into the kitchen somehow annoyed George beyond belief.

“You really are being a bit of a bitch about this,” he huffed. His words stung. George was never one for name-calling, and just the sound of the cuss word rolling off his tongue cut you to the quick.

George had grown used to you, you reasoned. He no longer needed to ‘woo’ you because the shiny diamond on your finger had ensured you were his for good.

“Don’t start,” you warned. You busied yourself with filling your travel mug with coffee. The sound of George’s sighing made you look up. He was fastening the buttons of his jacket. For some reason, you felt like crying but pushed your tears back.

“Can we chat about this later?”

You nodded, handing him a paper bag with his lunch in it. He gave you a quick peck on the forehead and left.

You sighed, pulling your phone out of your pocket. Mindlessly, you scrolled to your recent texts and found Fred’s name. You took a type breath as you typed, feeling your heart murmur as you typed.

Thinking of you, Freddie.

But you quickly erased the text, forbidding yourself to continue the thoughts you had started to entertain.

——————-

Later that evening, you stood in the back room of the shop, placing some things onto a storage shelf. It was typical that when you were done with work, you’d head over to Weasley Wizard Wheezes and give the boys a hand. Fred was sitting at a nearby computer, sending an email to one of the suppliers they frequently worked with. He had noticed you and George hadn’t said a single word to one another all night.

“Hey, y/n?”

You heard Fred begin to speak, so you turned to your head, walking over the computer.

“You seem down, is everything alright?”

This was the way of things between you and Fred. He knew you like the lyrics of his favorite song. If the tune was even a little bit off, he could sense it. There were times throughout your time of knowing him that he had used this to comfort you before you could even admit to your own hurt. Often, it so happened, this would be when you and George would get into a fight.

You felt the tears you had pushed down earlier begin to make their way up to the surface again.

“Oh, yeah, Fred, I’m okay.”

You felt Fred place his warm hand on top of yours. His palms and fingers were calloused from years of beating bludgers. The feeling of his touch felt different than ever before. You could sense somewhere deep in your bones that your feelings for Fred were changing as quickly and surely as the autumn leaves. He stroked his thumb over yours, looking up at you, his affectionate chocolate-colored eyes shining behind his long lashes.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“I’m fine, Fred,” you moved away quickly, going back to stacking boxes of Whiz Bangs.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

November 29th.

“Happy birthday, Bill!”

Arthur placed a large cake down in the center of the dining table. Molly had allowed Albus to write in icing ‘Happy Birthday Uncle Billy’, which reminded Harry affectionately of his 11th birthday cake from Hagrid. You were sat between Fred and George, smiling happily as you watched him blow out the candles.

Fleur smiled affectionately as she gave Bill a shy kiss on the cheek. You felt yourself wondering if their marriage had also become listless. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe you should talk about how you’d been feeling with Fleur and Hermione, but, you felt a sense of shame. A sense of failure had started to enter your mind - maybe you just weren’t attractive to George anymore. A sense of sadness filled your heart again, so you pushed it away, reaching to George’s hand. He barely held it back. You could feel your knee touching Fred’s, which forced you to take continuous sips of the pumpkin juice in front of you.

Once everyone had finished eating, you chose to clean up so that everyone could continue talking. The truth was, you felt an aching sadness in your chest and needed some time alone. You turned on this sink in the kitchen, smiling at the coziness of Molly’s little kitchen. You allowed the sink to fill with whatever, humming to yourself as you scrubbed. You found your head bopping back and forth as you hummed the Triwizard Tournament theme.

You looked up when Fred appeared next to you, reaching into the water to help you.

“I got it,” you said quietly. Something about his mere presence made you want to scream.

“Let me help you.”

You weren’t sure if he was talking about the dishes, but something about his tone and the huskiness behind his words made you think he definitely was not.

Your hands met beneath the water, Fred’s fingers dancing against yours. You moved to give his hand a squeeze, looking knowingly into his eyes.

“Y/n, I…”

Suddenly, you heard Ginny’s voice behind you. “You two need help?” She asked sweetly, grabbing a hand towel to do the drying. You yanked your hands out of the sudsy water with a splash.

“Absolutely, thanks, Gin,” you replied, letting yourself glance over at Fred who was clearly struggling to calm his breathing.

_________________________

The shower at the Burrow was notoriously hard to operate. But nonetheless, you were finally able to find the right temperature. You stood beneath the hot water, letting it run over you. You sighed contently. The heat had allowed some of the stress to melt away. You worked the shampoo into your hair, closing your eyes as you rinsed away a day’s worth of troubles. After you felt clean, you slid the curtain open, flipping over to wrap your hair in a towel. The room had become foggy from the heat, which you noted as you headed over to the mirror to wash your face.

Just then, the door opened. You jumped, nearly screaming at the sight of Fred in the doorway. He shut the door behind him. There was no way he hadn’t seen pretty much everything you had to offer. You couldn’t find a word to utter as he looked your bare body up and down.

Your breath felt strangled as he walked forward, moving so you were flush against the wall. In your chest, your heartbeat had gone wild. You had never felt like this in your life - not even the first time you finally made love to George.

Fred reached over and handed you the towel off a nearby shelf.

“Make sure you lock the door next time, pet,” he said, watching as you shakily wrapped it around you.

“Get out of here, Fred,” you feigned outrage, even though you didn’t mind him being there one bit.

He laughed, using his thumb to wipe smeared mascara from beneath your eye. It had run while you showered.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Fred-”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay-”

But Fred had turned to leave, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Don’t tell George?”

“Pinky promise.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

December 24.

You all sat around the fire, warmed from the inside out by stories of the Weasley boys as children, and spiked eggnog. You sat between George’s legs, his arms wrapped lovingly around you. He placed his chin on your shoulder, and you turned to kiss his lips. He tasted like Christmas cookies and nutmeg.

“I’m tired, honey. Are you?”

You shook your head. “No, but go on up. I think I’ll stay up a while longer. Do you think I’ll see Father Christmas?”

George laughed, bopping you on the nose. “Perhaps, but he knows you’ve been a naughty girl.”

Molly gasped, “George Weasley! In front of your own mother!”

The whole room erupted in laughter, watching as your face turned bright red. “Goodnight, George,” you chuckled, giving him one last goodnight hug.

The room slowly continued to clear out. You sat on the floor, sipping more eggnog and flipping through a photo album. You smiled at a sweet picture of Fred and George in matching Christmas sweaters, toothy grins adorning their face as they held up their Christmas presents. On the next page was another picture of the twins in matching onesies, just a few days after they were born. They were always together. They shared everything. You felt a pang of guilt wash over you again. You hadn’t been able to forget about the incident on Bill’s birthday, and what’s more, it had thrilled you.

Eventually, it was just you and Fred in the sitting room. The house had fallen quiet as you listening to the crackling of the fireplace. Fred came to sit next to you, silently watching the fire along with you.

You turned and looked over at him. He still captivated you with his boyish charm. No matter how many times you had looked at him, you never failed to feel some sort of joy deep inside of you. Again, you felt ashamed, because your husband has failed to make you feel this way for a few months now.

Fred scooted forward, looking into your eyes as if he were searching for something. You gazed back, hoping that he would find what he was looking for. He was wearing his old, tattered sweater that Molly had made him so many years ago, a big F on the front. It was sweet and nostalgic. It reminded you a Christmas nights at Hogwarts, sharing chocolates and playing pranks in the hallowed hallways.

“So, what’s been going on? Seriously, y/n, it’s been driving me mad.”

“Well, honestly, things aren’t fantastic with George right now, Fred, s’all there is to say.”

“How do you mean?”

You blushed. “It’s embarrassing,” you admitted, pulling the sleeves of your sweater down around your hands and pulling your knees to your chest.

Fred reached over to tuck a hair behind your ear. “You can tell me, you know that.”

“I just don’t think he finds me beautiful anymore, Fred. He doesn’t touch me like he used to. He...just...I don’t know. I feel like such a normal part of his life. The fireworks have gone. It makes me feel small and ….unbeautiful. I miss feeling wanted. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because...we haven’t started a family yet. Maybe he’s disappointed in that? I don’t know.”

The words came pouring out of your mouth. All at once, you regretted them, staring down at the carpet. You felt bad for talking badly about George, especially to his closest brother. You felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. Sniffling, you used the hem of your sleeves to wipe your eyes.

“You are so far from unbeautiful, y/n. You’re perfect. George is the luckiest man on this Earth. I...I swear it.”

What Fred didn’t tell you was that the day George had gone through with the proposal, he had locked himself in his bathroom and cried. Full, heavy, fat-teared crying over the fact that his chance with you had been lost forever. Seeing you in white walking down the aisle toward him had taken his breath away, too, until he remembered he was standing next to George as his best man. You were the one that got away, and the hardest part was is that you hadn’t gone anywhere.

He cupped your face in his hands, moving to use his sweater to catch your stray tears. “Do you know how much I hate seeing you sad?”

All at once, your lips were crashing into his. You fell back onto the carpet, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head, propped up by his arms. “Freddie,” you gasped, but before you could say too much, he continued to kiss you.

Your tongues battled for dominance. Fred flicked his tongue across your lip. You felt his hands sliding up under your sweater, grabbing your hips. His hands were colder than you expected, making you jump. Your chest rose and fell, breathing deeply as he pulled away.

“He’s a bloody idiot,” Fred gasped, pressed his forehead to yours. The only sound to be heard in the Burrow sitting room was the shaky breath of you both...and the overwhelming sense that a beautiful secret - like a tapestry - had just started to be woven together.

[To Be Continued.]

#fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins fanfiction #george weasley #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine

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dimpled-gukkie · 3 years

Text

Santa Baby (tell me you hear them too)

moodboard made by the lovely @today-we-will-survive

Summary: You attend a last minute Christmas party and meet your soulmate. The catch? You don’t remember anything about them besides the fact that they were wearing a Santa suit. Turns out there were seven Santas at the party... The question remains: Can you find your soulmate before Christmas Day?

Genre: Soulmate AU/ College AU

Pairing: ???? x reader

Warnings: hand burned on hot chocolate, Jin says he’s too pretty to be a hostage, mentions and depictions of drinking, joon is described as a porn aficionado

Word Count: 12.4k

a/n: It’s a very special day for my dearest friend @purpleful! In your honor I thought I’d write you a story of your own, as you help me with a countless amount of mine. Remember all the times you asked me this month if I had written anything or had a Christmas fic? I had been working on this the whole time nshjfhn. You sent me into a panic sometimes though because I swear you guessed the plot several times without actually knowing I was even writing. Anyways I love you and thank you for being my friend ❤️

a/a/n: also Happy Holidays to anyone else celebrating. I hope you’re able to find lightness even in these dark times. And to the atheists out there, cheers to the upcoming new year

1 day, 12 hours, 32 minutes and 12 seconds until Christmas

“Don’t you think those elf costumes are hot? Like damn I wish my legs looked like that in tights.” Mina whispers conspiratorially, though her voice has a tendency to carry no matter what volume she attempts to speak in, meaning the elf you’re passing by surely hears her based off his reddened ears.

“Do you have any shame?” You laugh, tucking your arm around her own to tug her into the nearby candle store. Your professor offered to give extra credit in exchange for a present and while she’s undoubtably exploiting her students for free gifts you could really use some help in your upper division history elective.

“What’s the fun in that?” Mina giggles, reaching over to the nearest stand and picking up a candle. She gives it a good whiff before coughing, holding the offending item away from her like that will somehow save her from smelling it further despite the top still being off.

“I imagine this is what elf vomit smells like.” She groans, shoving it into your arms in an effort to make you suffer as well. True friendship.

“Winter Candies?” You question, reading the label and the ingredients it’s supposed to smell like. “Adding pecan and peppermint is probably what went wrong.” You hum before smelling it yourself and coughing from the fumes. “Oh you were right this is disgusting.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Mina hums. “Get that one for your professor.”

“I’d like my grade to be higher not lower. Let’s just get this pine one. It’s a safe bet right?”

“If you like your house to smell like a forest I guess so.” She shrugs, following behind you to the register. “Do you think we could get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you eat like half of Songi’s Christmas cookies this morning? Speaking of which you’re going to get in trouble, she was whining the whole time about how long they were taking due to her lack of patience.”

“When is she not whining about how long things take? Girl has the attention span of a nat, better yet a goldfish.” She snickers, though her eyes shine with a particular fondness for one of her oldest friends. Songi is actually how you met Mina in the first place, the both of you stuck in statistics together and becoming quick friends. When sophomore year rolled around it just made sense to move in with Songi and Mina as they were already looking for a third roommate.

“Very true. Though I’m sure her soulmate will find it charming. Hopefully.”

“Do you ever wonder when we’ll meet our soulmates?” Mina sighs, looking dreamily off into what appears to be the oncoming food court. It’s a toss up whether she’s thinking about her soulmate or fried food.

“All the time but I try not to dwell on it. I just want to live you know? They’ll find me eventually.” The line for hotteok is long, but the sweet smell of pancakes keeps you placated even if your stomach is grumbling.

“When my soulmate does come I hope they’re as fine as Park Jimin. That man must be an angel or something because no one has the right to be that attractive.” You’re about to comment on where that sudden thought came from when Park Jimin himself exits hastily from a store, a clothing bag thrown over his shoulder as he hastily types on his phone. From the draw of his brows and slight scowl he almost looks a little angry, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Jimin!” Mina calls, and the orange haired boy immediately picks his head up and puts on a light smile before jogging over.

As he approaches the bells around you jangle, the clock at Santa’s workshop echoing throughout the mall and ringing in your ears. Rubbing your ear to try and ease the slight pain you give Jimin a small wave when he finally appears before you. “The bells are pretty loud huh?” He smiles, nodding towards the large bell that apparently looms behind you.

You agree at the same time Mina says, “I don’t think they’re that loud. Annoying at most.” Before looking between the both of you and wriggling her brows. You brush it off as her being weird before gesturing to Jimin’s bag.

“Don’t tell me you bought a Santa costume.” You say, causing him to laugh. The way his eyes slip between his plump cheeks is rather flattering.

“I lost a bet and this is the price to pay for tonight’s party. Speaking of which you guys should come. Jin’s on alcohol duty so he’ll definitely get all the fancy shit.” Jimin says.

“Well since the Park Jimin invited us, I guess we’ll have to stop by. Text y/n the address and we’ll get there eventually. No promises to be on time though.” Mina jokes.

“That is why they created the term ‘fashionably late’ is it not? Just make sure not to wear a sexy Santa costume, Jin says he wants to be the lone slutty Santa.” Jimin laughs, as if drawing a picture in his own mind before shaking his head.

“It’s a little odd to have a party on the twenty-third though. Why not Christmas Eve?”

“Most of us are going home tomorrow so today was really the only time. Everyone was strung up with finals and stuff.”

“Understandable. I’m getting last minute extra credit before grades are finalized tomorrow. Our school really kills the festive spirit with everything being so close to the holidays.”

“Exactly. All the more reason to party out our frustrations.” His phone buzzes and Jimin types a quick reply before turning back to you. “I gotta go and help Tae at the shelter but I’ll see you both tonight right?”

“And Songi! Our ride or die, our forever plus one, our favorite-“

“Alright, alright. Yeah we’ll be there.” You smile, your hand still over Mina’s mouth as Jimin turns and jogs away. When you release her she smacks the back of your head and you whine.

“What was that for??”

“For being stupid dumbass. You’re telling me both you and Jimin thought the bells were super loud and didn’t think that’s sus. He’s clearly your soulmate!” Mina practically screeches, bouncing on her heels in excitement. The spectacle draws the attention of those around you and you can’t help but shy away.

“Shut up! Besides it’s the holiday season, bells are ringing everywhere. There’s no way to tell if it’s actually your soulmate’s bell jingle. Besides Jimin didn’t seem to think anything of it either. Shouldn’t you just know?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one with the found soulmate after all.” Mina shrugs before giving her order to the vendor. She nudges you to give your own but your mind is still reeling. Park Jimin isn’t actually your soulmate, right?

1 day, 1 hour, 37 minutes, 53 seconds until Christmas

Despite your nonchalance earlier, you feel jittery standing outside the address Jimin sent you. Shivers rack down your spine at the prospect of seeing him again, of being certain that Jimin is your forever. You can hear the music through the door, a rhythmic thumping that you try and match your breathing to. Even if Park Jimin isn’t your soulmate it’s not going to be the end of the world. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, ignoring the way just the idea forms a pit in your stomach. “I know we’re waiting for you to mentally prepare yourself but could you hurry up? I for one would love to witness slutty Jin.” Mina says, nudging you forward lightly with her shoulder.

“Chill out Mina, give the poor girl some time. She’s about to find her soulmate after all.” Songi says, throwing an arm over your shoulder and dragging you into her side. “If it makes you feel better I’ll stay by your side the whole night. We can make fun of Mina shamelessly trying to outdo Seokjin.”

“Hey! Jimin may have said I couldn’t be a slutty Santa but that will never stop me from being the baddest bitch there.” She makes a show of grabbing her sweater and tugging it to emphasize ‘ho’ stitched across the front. Songi has a matching one with Santa losing said hos.

“If I don’t see a dance battle I’m going to be disappointed. After all you promised to do something stupid for me to film. It’s the only reason I decided to come, I mean after supporting you of course.” Songi laughs, giving you an affectionate squeeze.

“Hey I could be an idol with these moves! Ryujin has nothing on me.” Mina huffs, breaking out into the iconic Itzy choreography in the middle of the hallway. You can’t help but crack up at the serious face she makes while ungracefully flailing her limbs. “And you should be grateful to us you hermit! I hope for your sake your soulmate is outgoing because you’ll live your whole life holed up in your apartment otherwise.”

“It’s safer that way. No bugs.” Songi says, causing Mina to push her and nearly send you both crashing to the floor.

“You’re insufferable. I don’t know how I’ve put up with you all these years.”

“You love me, I mean really it’d be hard not too.” Songi shrugs, a smug smile pulled onto her face as she pats Mina’s cheek.

“More like tolerate you and to be honest I’ve reached my limit. Let’s go inside so I can ditch you losers.” Mina throws the door open and heads inside, easily weaving through the bodies crammed inside the small apartment.

“I can just feel the love.” Songi sighs, clutching onto the space over her heart. “Now come on, we can’t find him if we’re in the hallway all night.” Moving to grab your hand she drags you inside, only for you to run into a boy passing through.

“My bad, didn’t think anyone else would be coming by. I have to go get more eggnog before Jin starts screaming at us again.” He smiles, the corner of his lips forming into soft right angles.

“It’s alright.” You murmur, looking around for Mina or Songi. Surely they’re somewhere nearby. Songi is most likely tucked away in some corner, longingly looking for an animal to keep her entertained while Mina is probably at the makeshift bar. If you weren’t so busy looking for your friends maybe you’d pay mind to the soft tinkling of bells and his cardinal red Santa suit wrapped nicely around his frame. Yet even when he breezes past you, your eyes are focused on your two friends. You spot Mina first, surprisingly she’s near the edge of the makeshift dance floor, a drink in her hand and likely about halfway drunk enough to begin belting along to whatever song comes on, even if it’s a terrible EDM mashup of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

You push through the bodies to get to her, almost getting trampled twice before breaking out and grabbing her by the arm before she can walk away. “Oh hey! I got you a drink, I know you don’t like eggnog so I swiped the chocolate milk from the fridge and spiked it myself.” She smiles, shoving a green plastic cup decorated with little lights towards you. You take a sip and wince at the bitter taste, the gingerbread liquor making an interesting concoction. But it’s the thought that counts and you smile despite wanting to cough at the strong flavor.

“Thanks. Where’s Songi?” You ask and Mina curses.

“She was just over in that corner but she’s gone now. Maybe we should try to find her?”

“You know, for someone who claims to hate social interaction she goes off on her own quite easily.” You hum, pushing your way through only to bump into Park Jimin himself. “Sorry.” You say, bumping into Mina from how quickly you try to put space between the two of you. You had momentarily forgotten the whole reason you came was because of Jimin and the possibility that he’s your soulmate. Your hands are suddenly clammy and you rub them against the side of your pants nervously.

“No big deal. Good to see you though! How long have you been here? You should’ve come and said hi to me first.” He whines, his pretty lips drawing into a thick pout, brows upturned as he gives you his best puppy dog look. You can feel yourself melting and all he’s doing is staring at you. The bells around you seem to get louder, Mariah Carey’s iconic Christmas song setting the stage.

“Ahh yeah. Next time! Maybe we could-uhh even come together. If you want to that is.” You smile shyly, pulling your sleeves down over your hands anxiously. You hope he can understand the implication behind your words, and as he steps towards you the bells seem to grow even louder. Someone shoves you from behind and you stumble, body alight with nerves when Jimin catches you. You’re practically shaking, in nerves or excitement you can’t discern. The only thing you can focus on is how pretty Jimin looks cast under red and white lights, his eyes filled with little twinkles. Your breath hitches at how close he is and you look down quickly when he gazes back at you so he can’t read the pure adoration on your face.

Naturally to try and seem less awkward you rush out the first thought that comes to mind. “Your suit is orange?” He takes a step back and you wish to reverse time as the warmth of whiskey and cinnamon on his breath parts from you.

“Ahh yeah, I lost a bet so I had to wear a Santa Suit and Hobi didn’t have enough for us all. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even bother looking at it before renting it. It’s my own fault for being swindled. I should’ve known better than to rent from a halloween shop that was suspiciously still open in December. Can you believe all the other stores were sold out?” Jimin scoffs and despite being interested in his story you can only focus on the way his lips move and pout with each word. They’re a rosy pink, slightly shiny in the dim lighting like he had just put on chapstick or licked his lips. The only thing that draws you out of your stupor is a petite girl throwing her arm around Jimin’s waist.

“Baby!” She exclaims and your eyes widen as Jimin grins down at her, wrapping his hands happily around her own waist and dragging him tightly into her. His smile is the largest you’ve ever seen on him, cheeks particularly squished in utmost happiness and his expression being what you could only describe as love. You can feel your heart breaking already. “Hi I’m Jisoo!” You think you’re going to be sick to your stomach, not just because Jimin is in love with someone else but because the girl you’re supposed to hate is so nice. She smiles at you warmly like you weren’t just staring at her boyfriend’s lips and wondering what they’d taste like.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Isn’t my soulmate so cute?” Jimin asks you, his eyes sparkling like diamonds as he squishes her cheek between two fingers. Your breath starts to quicken and you smile widely to hide the way your eyes begin to fill with tears.

“You both are adorable together.” You manage to get out, impressed with how natural it sounds despite how tense you feel. The bells in your head are just mocking you now as you make up an excuse to leave, the two of them so wrapped up in each other they don’t pay mind to your absence. Clearing your throat you head to the bathroom to try and get some privacy for your inevitable break down only to run into Mina and some guy in a Santa suit stumbling out.

“Y/n!” Mina cheers, too intoxicated to notice the way small tears begin to fall down your face. The hallway is rather dark and yet you can still make out the guy next to her with a curved nose and reddened ears. He looks a little embarrassed to be caught after an obvious rendezvous in a bathroom at a party and yet his hands still wind around Mina’s waist comfortably when she pulls away from you. “My soulmate’s an elf!” She cackles and you welcome the distraction her words bring.

“What?” You ask confused. The guy beside her is wearing a Santa costume, you’re sure of it.

“Hoseok is a mall elf! You know the guy with the hot legs? It’s him, my soulmate!” She squeals excitedly, grabbing him by the arm and smiling up at him blissfully.

“How are you sure?” You don’t mean to sound so bitter, but Mina never mentioned hearing bells at the mall nor did she mention hearing bells when you caught her earlier. If anything this could just be her wishful thinking like her suggestion of Jimin being your soulmate.

“You just kinda know! Like at the mall when we passed I wrote it off as shop bells. Then when I got here and we bumped into each other I just knew it was actually him. And when we touched it was like I was struck by lightning.” Your face must show incredulity because she just smiles at you.

“I know, I know. It sounds super cliche but it’s true. Though now that we’ve touched a lot more it’s wearing down.” She giggles, winking at him and reveling in the way the blush burns brighter. He sticks his hand out to you after squeezing her waist and you stare at it for a moment before reaching out to shake it.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though.” His smile takes the form of a heart as he grins at you and Mina practically squeals.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to talk later but I have to use the bathroom.” You nod behind them and Hoseok seems to realize he’s standing in the doorway and moves aside bashfully.

“So sorry! Didn’t realize I was still standing there.” You just give him a tight-lipped smile and nod, moving past them quickly. Your silence seems to be what draws Mina’s concern, a tentative hand coming to grab your forearm lightly.

“Y/n-“ She starts but you gently brush her off.

“I’m fine. Really don’t worry about me.” You say softly before locking the door and sliding down it. It’s in the comfort of the quiet bathroom that you allow the tears to freely fall and mourn the soulmate you didn’t have.

22 hours, 45 minutes, 35 seconds until Christmas

You finally find Songi, a random cat cuddled up in her arms as she’s squished into a small chair nestled by the kitchen. She’s a little hazy in your mind, it feels a bit like you’re looking at her underwater, and you smile at her lazily before plopping down into her lap. “Be careful!” She scolds, holding the cat up higher so it’s curled into her chest instead. You just blink slowly at her in response and she sighs. “How much did you drink tonight?”

“After I cried for like thirty minutes I stole a bottle of peppermint schnapps and drank the whole thing.” You sigh, resting your head against her own.

“Why’d you cry? I wish you would’ve told me you were upset, I would’ve suggested we leave right away.”

“Park Jimin already has a soulmate…it’s not me. I know chances were already slim because he’s Park Jimin and well, I’m me but I just thought maybe this would be it. I finally would have someone to share everything with and I wouldn’t.. be so lonely.” You murmur out the last part, your drunken state revealing the thoughts that consumed you upon meeting Jisoo. No matter how much you mentally prepared yourself for the possibility of Jimin being a fluke, you weren’t ready for just how brutal the disappointment was.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being you. Besides I’d never let Park Jimin sit on my lap and yet here you are, perched upon a throne.” You can’t help the small giggle you let out. Songi always knows what to say to cheer you up.

“You’re so weird you know that? You’re the only person I know who refers to thighs as a throne.”

“Don’t judge me and my preferences. You drool over hands and I drool over thighs, it’s perfectly normal. Anyways, I know you mean romantically but I’ll always be here if you want someone to cry with or to yell at fictional characters about their stupidity with you. You’re my best friend.” Despite her hatred of hugs and physical contact Songi retracts her arms from the cat to put them around you instead, gently giving you a squeeze. It’s a little awkward because she’s terrible at hugs but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“How about we get out of here okay?” She suggests and you nod, wincing as your head starts to pound. The alcohol must be catching up to you. The pounding is then followed by ringing, and you hold your head in your hands as church bells ring in your ears. The world is truly out to make a mockery of your life.

“You okay? Here sit down a minute.” Songi ushers you into the chair as she hovers above you, rushing off to get some water for you.

“Taehyung really shouldn’t have been in charge of the playlist.” Someone from beside you sighs but you can’t look up at them for the sake of your pounding headache. “I think I’m going to have bells ringing in my head for days.” They sigh before they seem to notice you. “Hey you okay?” They ask, a hand placed on your shoulder in concern but the electricity that runs down your spine makes you gasp. Your skin prickles in goosebumps but Songi is just near enough that she takes your gasp as extreme pain instead of astonishment.

“I’m sorry I took so long!” She says, throwing your arm around her shoulders haphazardly before hauling you up and against her.

“Hey wait-“ The voice from beside you starts, but Songi brushes them off.

“Don’t worry I’m not gonna steal your cat this time. But don’t let him roam around with a bunch of drunk people. I almost saw him get stepped on five times by idiots.” For a brief second you manage enough strength to turn your head without wanting to throw up and blearily lock eyes with a pair of chocolate brown ones. They’re swimming with something you can’t quite make out: pain, regret, longing. But then Songi calls your name and you turn away to make sure you don’t smack into the front door. It’s odd but you can feel a pit in your stomach the further you walk away and his eyes are imprinted on the back of your lids with every blink.

14 hours, 18 minutes, 22 seconds until Christmas

“Wake up bitches!” Mina screams, banging on your and Songi’s doors and you groan. Rolling over, you throw the pillow over your head and try to fall back asleep to avoid the way your head pounds. Mina throws your door open and you wince when it smacks against the wall next to it. “You can’t evade me.” She says, reaching for your comforter and trying to throw it off. However, you predicted this to happen when you flipped over and cling tightly to the fluffy bedding, expertly disrupting her evil plan. Mina huffs in annoyance and you hide your grin in your sheets before releasing a puff of air when she jumps on top of you. “Wake! Up!” She yells, jumping on top of you like you’re some human trampoline.

“You’re the worst kind of person.” You grumble, rolling over to come face to face with her smile.

“Thanks! Now I want to eat cookies for breakfast and I refuse to eat them alone like it’s a shameful activity.” True in her shameless fashion she’s only wearing a baggy t-shirt, her neck exposed and colored various shades of purple and red. Though your night was unexplainably horrible you’re glad at least someone had a good time.

“I want Songi’s cookies. Hers always look pretty.”

“You mean you don’t want to try my cinnamon bourbon toffee snickerdoodles? I saw it on tiktok and they took me two hours! I nearly set the oven on fire!” You wrinkle your nose at the memory of two days ago, and coming home from finishing up one of your last papers to her covered in flour and the counters doused in eggs. It’s like she somehow got in a food fight with herself.

“And that’s precisely why they shouldn’t exist in the first place. You didn’t even know how to turn on the oven.” Songi murmurs, leant against your doorway.

“You’re all ungrateful, uncultured swines.” She huffs, though she still proceeds to make you all hot chocolates when you emerge from your room. The three of your are sat at the kitchen counter, plates full of cookies and Songi’s mom’s homemade fudge. If anything can cure a hangover it’s gorging yourself on unhealthy food.

“Did I ever tell you one kid in high school called me an uncultured swine because I didn’t know the rat from the ninja turtles?” Songi says, munching on her own frosted sugar cookie. It was her first attempt at a 3D wreath but turned out to be more like a bush of frosting. For most it’d be deemed to sweet and disgusting to ingest but Songi happily licks away at the icing.

“What is the rat’s name?” Mina asks, and Songi just shrugs.

“I still don’t know honestly.”

“Why were you up so early anyways? Don’t you normally sleep until noon?” You ask Mina, noticing the way she turns away from you almost shyly.

“Hobi slept over and he had to go back to work early to return the Santa suits he stole before his boss found out.” The Santa suits spring a memory to mind and you suddenly recall seeing more than just one. Though Jimin did mention there being others, you only saw Hobi and Jin wearing them.

“Why were so many people wearing Santa suits anyways? I thought Jin wanted to be the only one.”

“The only slutty one, so naturally he was wearing the top of the suit like a robe and cut the pants into thot shorts. Hobi was understandably pissed about that one since they were only borrowing the suits after all. But it was some bet, he told me about it last night but I was too drunk to remember.” Looking into your drink the swirling chocolate then reminds you of eyes and the tingling feeling down your back when a warm palm rested on your shoulder.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, suddenly standing up and running to your room. Mina and Songi are hot on your heels, watching curiously as you bounce around on one foot while struggling to pull your jeans over your thighs and hips.

“Where are you going?” Songi asks and you widen your eyes at the realization that she’s the only one who would’ve seen their face.

“Songi who did you see before you took me home? Who had their hand on my shoulder?” You ask, running up to grab her by the upper arms and shake her almost desperately. “Songi I need to know who it was.”

“What’s this all about? Did they steal from you or something?” Mina asks and you throw your head back in a frustrated groan.

“No they’re my soulmate!”

“Babe-“ Mina starts and your glare at the pity in her expression.

“I’m being serious. I felt the sparks or whatever and I can see his eyes when we walked away. I just can’t remember anything else. Songi you have to remember who they were.” You plead to the both of them and they look back at you rather sadly.

“I’m sorry but I’ve never seen them before. I think they were wearing a Santa costume but I don’t remember much else about them.” She says and you can’t help but deflate. You actually found your soulmate and got so drunk you can’t remember anything about them. Great.

“Are you sure they’re your soulmate anyways. I passed by you later that night and you seemed pretty wasted but maybe after Jimin you just thought-“

“No I didn’t make up a soulmate just because I was depressed that Jimin wasn’t mine. You know how you just knew with Hoseok? Well I just know with him. How many people were wearing Santa costumes?”

“Six.” Mina says but Songi disagrees and says there’s seven.

“A guy came in later with another suit. That’s how I found the cat, it was just following him around and I heard the little bell on the collar.”

“You-you heard a cat bell at a party filled with drunk people screaming?” Mina asks, her face twisted up in confusion. You have to admit that does seem like it’s rather unlikely that someone would be able to discern such a quiet sound with so much commotion.

“I have exceptional hearing, of course I heard it. Besides this isn’t some fanfic where we all find our soulmates in the same place. The guy did have a pretty face though, I wouldn’t mind looking at it upon closer inspection.” Songi shrugs, staring off dreamily like the cat guy is standing right in front of her.

“Do you think Hobi can give me the name of the guys he leant the suits to?” You ask and Mina sighs.

“Just don’t get your hopes up too much okay? Songi only thinks he was wearing a Santa costume. I just don’t want to see you heartbroken again.” She pats your head softly, almost motherly, and you give her your best smile.

13 hours, 45 minutes, 36 seconds until Christmas

The name Min Yoongi swirls around your brain as you stand outside of Bored and Brewed. It’s tucked between a music supply store and a flower shop, leafy plants hanging above the entrance and the large front windows blocked in by thin rectangular frames. You can see warm lights strewn across the cafe from outside, casting it in a golden hue as soft pink chairs and petal green couches decorate the inside. The bell above you jingles and you tersely smile, flashbacks of your embarrassment from misinterpreting a common sound during the holiday season returning. Hoseok gave no description of what Min Yoongi would look like, only stating that he’s a frequenter of this specific cafe given it’s proximity to your university’s music school buildings. Though Jimin mentioned all his friends were leaving today, you’re still hopeful that your soulmate will stick around long enough for you to find them. This is a matter of fate after all, the universe wouldn’t allow you to meet them before Christmas only to end up spending the day alone right? No matter how cruel the world normally seems you refuse to believe it would do this to you.

Upon entry the guy behind the counter smiles at you, then goes back to busying himself on the phone while you look at the menu. You’re not one for liking strong coffee, so your eyes naturally linger towards the sweeter drinks that are on the special menu. The bell to the shop rings again but you don’t pay it any mind, too fixated on trying to figure out what you want.

“I wouldn’t get the peppermint drink if I were you. They load it with sugar and whipped cream so it doesn’t taste like anything.” A voice from behind you says and you nod along. “I’d get the sugar cookie one, it’s not super sweet but also has a nice flavor. It’s the only thing I get that’s not actual coffee.” He hums and you decide to go ahead and order that before you make the guy behind you wait any longer.

“Make that two. I’m feeling particularly generous today.” He hands over some cash before you can say anything and you whip around to face him. Wavy black hair covers his brows, most of it tucked inside a gray beanie. A baggy hoodie and black skinny jeans adorn the rest of his figure and he gives you a tight lipped smile with the edges quirked upwards.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to.” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You follow him to the pick up area for your drinks, tucking your hands into your pockets to try and hide your nervous fiddling.

“I try to do a good deed every day so today that’s you it seems.” His voice is low and soft, a quiet rumbling in the wind.

“Well I appreciate it.” You say and silence falls between the two of you. Your mind is searching for something to say to fill the silence but the barista comes by with your two drinks. You’re about to just leave the conversation at the polite end but the barista’s words catches your attention.

“Feel free to buy me a drink sometime Yoongi.” He laughs.

“Yoongi?” You ask and the boy with the beanie turns back to you.

“Yeah?”

“As in Min Yoongi. Hobi’s friend?” You press further and the boy’s confusion turns to skepticism.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well you see I met my soulmate last night at the party but I don’t remember who they were, just that they were wearing a Santa costume.” You murmur, following behind when Yoongi makes a move to leave the shop.

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe in soulmates. I think you should have a say in who’s right for you.” Despite the coldness of his words, his tone is still soft- sympathetic almost.

“Yoongi wait!” You exclaim, grabbing onto his wrist with your own hand. The bell above the store chimes above you and for a second you allow yourself to believe you’re the one to change how Yoongi feels about soulmates. And yet you feel no goosebumps when your skin touches his, only the slightly dry texture of his palm when he gently takes your hand off him. “The-the bells. I can’t lose my soulmate again, please.” The end comes off as a whisper and Yoongi must take pity on you because he gives you a gentle smile.

“The bells were from above the door. But I can give you the name of another Santa, his name is Jin. He’s the one who hosted the party. He works at the restaurant I play piano for, he should be there picking up his check because the manager is old fashioned. If you hurry you can probably catch him. Two blocks down, it’s the fancy place with the stupid golden archway like a high end McDonalds.” He pats your upper arm twice before walking away. Though you miss the way he turns to watch you run around the small corner mumbling a small good luck at your parting figure.

13 hours, 30 minutes, 23 seconds until Christmas

Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said the place did have a strange high-end McDonalds feel. The golden arches are spotless, reflecting the red and green lights scattered in some windows of the buildings across the street. The doors are large french ones with gold painted around the trim and a guy in a butler’s outfit opens them for you. You thank him before heading inside, observing the grandiose chandeliers and poinsettias decorating the host stand. A girl with long blonde hair smiles at you before asking if you need a table.

“Actually I was looking for Jin? He has blonde hair and really wide shoulders.” It’s the only information Yoongi offered but the girl in front of you nods in understanding and you can’t help the sigh of relief you let out.

“He just came in to get something so I’ll find him and let him know you’re waiting for him. Can I get your name?”

“Umm just tell him Hobi’s friend is waiting.” You say nervously, pulling at the strings of your sweater to busy yourself. She just nods before walking away and you stuff three of the free mints in your mouth to try and ease yourself. That is before you realize they’re peppermint flavored and instantly start gagging as the taste of last night’s peppermint liquor surfaces. With your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gagging, Jin walks into the lobby and spots you. His eyes widen in recognition, sparkling as he gets nearer. And as he draws closer a distant tinkling sounds rings out and your eyes water with tears. Is your soulmate perhaps the sluttiest Santa of them all?

“I’d remember you from anywhere. You stole my entire bottle of Peppermint Schnapps out of my secret liquor cabinet. I’m surprised you could reach it to be honest, I have to climb on the counter to grab it myself so you must’ve done some serious spider man shit.” He smiles and you wish the ground would swallow you whole. You have no recollection of doing that. What had Mina put in your first drink?

“Ahh yes. I was hoping I could speak to you privately.” Your eyes dart to the blonde hostess, perched on the host stand and conveniently leaning toward the two of you to hear closer.

“I was going to steal some food from the back before I left. You want anything?” He asks, walking towards the kitchen with you following him like some lovesick puppy. At this point you refuse to let your soulmate be taken from you any longer.

“What do you have?”

“Anything you could ever want. I’m heading home after this so I need some snacks for the drive.” He picks up a baguette and fruit, before opening the freezer and pulling out ready made desserts and quiches. “You think the caviar is here yet?” He asks to himself before rifling through some more shelves and letting out a loud ‘aha!’

“You hold this.” He says, giving you the expensive caviar and gesturing for you to hide it under your shirt.

“You want me to smuggle it out?” You exclaim and Jin quickly shushes you.

“It’s not smuggling, it’s borrowing. If there’s any left I’ll return it.” He says, pushing you away from the kitchen and walking normally like he doesn’t have a baguette and many other foods in his arms.

“Isn’t that a health violation?” You ask and Jin rolls his eyes.

“What are you? The health inspector? Besides you weren’t worried about health violations last night.” He says, leading you towards the front. The tinkling sound is particularly loud here and you finally gather the courage to question him about your real intentions.

“Speaking of last night, I don’t actually remember much. But I do know I found my soulmate.” You start, looking towards him and Jin hums in acknowledgement. “And he was wearing a Santa suit…so as you know, you were also wearing one. So I was thinking-“

“I’m your soulmate?” Jin says and you nearly drop the bowl of caviar that’s tucked underneath your shirt.

“You are? Honestly that’s such a relief because I’ve been stressing myself out about trying to find them before it was actually Christmas so I don’t have to spend another alone. You said you were having to go to your family’s right? Would I be able to come with? I know we’ve only just met but I can’t imagine having to be alone again and-“ Seokjin has tucked the baguette under his arm, a finger pressed delicately to your lips.

“This is very flattering, truly the sweetest soulmate confession I’ve received thus far. But I have to stop you because I’m not your soulmate. You think you’re hearing bells right? The bus boys are polishing all the glasses and they always knock them into each other.” When he sees your eyes water again he gently wipes the falling tears. “I know you’re looking to find them and I want to help you. You said it was a Santa right? Lucky for you all my friend’s wore the costume because of Taehyung’s punishment. They were betting the length of time it would take Taehyung to smuggle a cat out of the shelter he works at. If you ask me I think it was rigged since Taehyung was the determinator of the bet length but my friends are stupid at best so they overlooked that. I was going to be slutty Santa anyways so I didn’t really care what they did. The only surprise was Taehyung being a freak and wearing a suit as well. Can you believe it was just because he wanted to be festive and not to get someone to sit in his lap?”

You can only sniffle and nod, internally questioning if trying to find your soulmate today was really a good idea. Mina did warn you about the potential heartbreak but you had been stubborn and unwilling to listen. The universe has had it out for you thus far, so why would it suddenly take pity on you and make things easy? “Hey, hey don’t give up. I’ll send you the shelter address and you can stop by when you’re ready. He should be there all day, his family is coming up here tomorrow so he has nothing better to do.” Jin says.

“You don’t think this is stupid? That I’m searching for something that clearly wasn’t meant to happen?”

“I don’t think any matter of the heart is something to criticize. If you really wanna find your soulmate you will, I believe in you. And Hobi must’ve believed in you too if he gave you our government names and locations. He wouldn’t give them out to strangers he didn’t trust. Or at least I hope he doesn’t, I’m much too beautiful to be held hostage.”

“Thanks Jin. That was oddly encouraging.”

“There’s nothing that a pretty face can’t fix. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must coast to the gas station and stand there until someone offers to pay for me. The sugar daddies are normally out right about now so that’s my queue. And when you find your soulmate, tell him he and his garbage truck stomach owe me groceries.”

“You know who it is?” You ask and Jin only shrugs.

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll see you at the next party y/n.” He winks.

12 hours, 28 minutes, 12 seconds until Christmas

“Did you find them?” Songi asks excitedly when you enter the apartment and you shake your head in reply. You’re not exactly completely discouraged but you feel nowhere near as excited and prepared as you were earlier. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” She asks, tentatively sitting on the couch beside you.

“Can we just watch a fun movie or something? i don’t really want to think at the moment.”

“How about a drama instead? Someone I know really loves Goblin.” She sings, already reaching for the remote.

“Goblin would be nice. It’s been a while since I’ve watched it.” You hum, snuggling under a fluffy blanket thrown across the back of the couch and curling up next to Songi.

“You want some popcorn? I can make hot chocolate or something if you want.” She offers but you shake your head and lean your head on her shoulder.

“I just want to mindlessly watch some dramas and pretend I’m the main characters.” You say and she merely nods before turning Goblin on.

“We can do that.” You both settle in comfortably, your body easing as the stress and emotional toll begin to weigh on you. Maybe what you needed was to just relax before putting yourself back out there. Besides Taehyung was supposed to be at the shelter all day, you had plenty of time. And even if you missed Taehyung, even if you didn’t find your soulmate by Christmas, you wouldn’t truly be alone. You had Songi right here with you, someone who had already offered to bring you with her when she saw her family tomorrow. It was with this warming realization that you finally allowed yourself to stop thinking, and close your eyes to get a peaceful sleep.

8 hours, 32 minutes, 56 seconds until Christmas

“You two took a nap and I wasn’t invited? You know napping is my favorite part of the day.” Mina whines, setting bags down onto the kitchen counter before squeezing between you and Songi on the couch. “Oo I love this scene! Though I have to say Nam Joo Hyuk’s swim scenes in weightlifting fairy were the best part of any drama I’ve seen thus far. When I tell you I almost drooled.” She sighs, batting away the pillow that Songi attempts to hit her with.

“How dare you talk about my man like that.” Songi huffs dramatically before pouting. “Besides he’s best as Nam Do San. If I could marry any character it’d be him.”

“He’s cute but I wouldn’t want him.” You say.

“Yes, yes. We all know you like your men older.” Mina cackles, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Hey they don’t have to be! I just- I don’t know, I want someone who could take care of me.”

“In all ways.” Mina giggles, her voice choked when you smack her dead in the face with the pillow beside you.

“None of that in my christian household!” You giggle to which she gasps, accosted.

“Then tell Songi to stop her weird thigh club thing!”

“I am part of the weightlifting club it’s not my fault we focus on squats!” Songi says, her voice rising significantly higher as she attempts to defend herself.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t join because you heard Wonho was the president.” Mina challenges, giggling when Songi’s cheeks bloom pretty roses.

“Sh-shut up. If you can have your hoe hours so can I. Besides Wonho’s my friend now, so I don’t admire them as much anymore.”

“You’re right, you admire them respectfully.” You add, laughing harder when Songi flips you off in retaliation.

“I hate you all. I need someone who will truly love me and be on my side.” She whines, standing up and moving to put on her shoes by the front door.

“Where are you going now?” Mina asks.

“To get a cat!” Songi exclaims, grabbing her bag off the rack by the door and storming out. You know she’s not really mad, but you also know there’s a one-hundred percent chance she’s coming back with a cat despite your lease directly stating it doesn’t allow animals.

You settle back onto the couch before your eyes widen and you jump up to put on your own shoes. “And where are you going?”

“I need to go to the shelter to see Taehyung and Songi’s the only one with a car!” You shout, running out the door and after her. You sprint down the stairs, it’s the most exercise you think you’ve gotten this year, and make it into the parking garage just as Songi unlocks her car. “Songi wait! Let me come with.” You yell, crossing over to her and throwing the passenger door open before she can say no.

“If you’re also getting a cat I get first dibs. It was my idea after all.” She says, waiting patiently for you to buckle up before pulling out. “Hey can you find directions for the nearest shelter? I know there’s one on third but I have no idea where third is.”

“Yeah I have the address for one.” You say, pulling up the place Jin sent you.

8 hours, 16 minutes, 24 seconds

The shelter itself is pretty small, but there’s a large fenced-in play area in the back. It’s filled with new toys and the sight makes you smile, especially at the few puppies that topple over each other when they trip while chasing one another. Your eyes linger on them a little longer and your heart pangs a little as you miss your dog from back home. You were supposed to see your family this winter season but all the flights in your home city were too expensive so you’ll have to see them after New Years instead. While you’ll get to see your family in a little over a week, you still miss them greatly especially when everyone is talking about going home to their own families.

“Do you want a dog instead?” Songi asks and you shake your head.

“No I don’t think I’m getting any pets. I have a umm friend who works here though.” You say, tucking your arm around hers and dragging her inside.

“Do you think they’ll give me a discount?” She asks, squeezing your arm when you tense at the little bell ringing above the door. At this point you hate bells and anything that has to deal with them.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll give you them free if you get two.” A smooth voice says, a boy with a black mullet and sharp eyebrows stepping in from the back. He smiles widely at you, rosy lips drawing into an almost blinding smile.

“Two might be a bit much for us.” You laugh stiffly. “I think we’re fine with just one.”

“Cat or dog?” He asks.

“Cat. Do you have any old cats? I’d like to give an elder guy a happy home.” Songi smiles and the beautiful man’s brows pinch.

“Taehyung is more familiar with the cats, I’ll go get him so he can show you around.”

“Sweet, thanks.” She says with a nod, tapping her feet to an imaginary beat. “Do you think I’ll find one that likes me? What if they all hate me?” Songi asks you, worry painted in her features.

“I’m sure they’ll all adore you. You’re difficult to not love.” You tell her, her shoulders sagging in relief.

“I just want to give them all the love in the world.” She says. “Oh do you think they sell collars? Something’s jingling.” She comments and before you can say anything the boy you first ran into last night appears. His boxy smile graces his features, dark eyes and long lashes fluttering as his gaze fixates on Songi.

“You’re the one looking for a cat?” He asks, his baritone voice causing a blush to rise to her skin. In fact, his voice when paired with his features seems to have glitched her brain out because she’s not moving at all. Her mouth is agape, her eyes wide as she takes in Taehyung. Several seconds have passed and she has yet to even so much as breathe. You nudge her shoulder and she seems to reboot, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah.” She says breathily.

“Jaebum told me you wanted one of the older ones. I’ll show you the ones who’ve been here the longest too.” He says, urging you to follow him through the door on the left. “The first section is where we keep the older ones, hoping they’ll catch someone’s eye before they see the kittens.” He explains, gesturing to a large enclosure filled with cat beds and towers.

“Can we go inside?” Songi asks and Taehyung nods, opening the gate and allowing you both to enter before a cat can escape. Songi instantly takes a liking to a white fluffy one that’s sprawled on a blue bed in the corner. It’s ears twitch with each step she makes and she pauses when she’s an arms reach away.

“Hello.” She begins introducing herself to the cat and your eyes flicker to Taehyung who gazes at her almost fondly. Your stomach sinks because it’s clear you’re much more aware that Taehyung doesn’t have a belled collar in his pocket than Songi. Seeing her so clueless to her inevitable soulmate standing so close by allows you to give yourself forgiveness for being so clueless yesterday.

“That one’s named Gucci. Named him myself because he’s a rare breed.”

“Does that mean he’s going to be expensive too?” She jokes.

“Probably, he’s an old guy after all. Sometimes they develop health complications. This boy right here is thirteen and has been here for about two years I think?” Taehyung supplies and Songi immediately frowns.

“My poor baby.” She coos, gently reaching forward to scratch behind his ear and then further under his chin. “You wanna come live at my house? I’ll sneak you all the chicken you want.”

The cat just blinks at her, rather slowly, before sniffing her palm. Songi immediately takes this as a yes and tells Taehyung that she’ll take him. “A good choice if I must say so myself. You two look cute together.” Taehyung smiles before his eyes widen until they’re nearly entirely round like he didn’t realize what he was saying until it was already out of his mouth. He doesn’t retract them or try and make them less flirtatious however. He merely just walks away with a slight blush decorating the apples of his cheeks while mumbling about leaving to get paper work and a soft crate.

“You like him right?’ Songi asks and you just shrug despite the large smile pulling at your face.

“Taehyung? He seems really sweet.” You giggle to which she shushes you vehemently.

“He might hear you! Besides he’s way out of my league, there’s no way he’d like me back. Plus I already have a man in my life and he’s right here.” She tugs Gucci into her lap, pressing a small kiss to his nose.

“I will not let you turn into a cat lady. You’re already a hermit at twenty.”

“But people make me nervous.” She whines. Taehyung enters again before you can comment any further, the soft crate draped over his shoulder with a fluffy blanket tucked inside.

“I’ll come in with you and when you’re done signing, I’ll put him in the crate. Sometimes they put up a fight when you try and get them in there and I don’t want him scratching you.” Taehyung tells Songi and she just nods along. You can tell she’s stalling because the two pages takes her about five minutes, as she pretends to care about having neat handwriting. You’re pretty sure she’s working up the nerve to say something to Taehyung so you decide to do it for her.

“Taehyung do you have a collar on you? I think Gucci would look really cute with one with like a bowtie bell.” You ask and his mouth parts slightly open, brows pulled together in confusion. It gives off a similar vibe to when your puppy cocks his head to the side when it can’t figure out what you’re saying.

“We don’t have any collars here. We don’t want the animals to get caught on anything and owners usually like to pick out their own.”

“You mean you don’t have one in your pocket?” Songi asks, equally as confused. You love her but for being so academically smart she can be so slow.

“No.” Taehyung says before turning to her with startled eyes. “You can hear bells?”

“Yeah. Should I not be able to?”

“I can hear them too!” He yells, startling half the cats but he pays them no mind as he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you…my soulmate.” He says it dreamily even though Songi is right in front of him and although your chances of finding your own is dwindling significantly you can’t help but be happy for your friend. She’s lit up under Taehyung’s attention, smiling so wide you think your own cheeks are starting to hurt. “And you my little man,” Taehyung says, squishing Gucci’s head between his large hands. “I’m going to be your dad!”

7 hours, 45 minutes, 31 seconds until Christmas

After finally convincing Taehyung to let Songi go, only under the terms that you’ll meet him at a nearby diner to get food, you wind up back in your apartment. Mina is gone, probably either on her way home or out with Hoseok so it’s quiet when Songi enters with Gucci. It’s probably a good thing as Taehyung warned you both that moving was quite stressful for a cat and he’d want a quiet room to hang out by himself until he felt comfortable. Gingerly taking him to her room, Songi sets up his things before opening Gucci’s crate and quietly closing the door. “I hope he doesn’t pee on my stuff.” She comments suddenly.

“I doubt it. He probably won’t even leave the crate for a few hours.”

“You think he’ll like it here?” Songi asks, following you out of the apartment and back down to her car. Taehyung wanted to go to somewhere near his work since he biked there this morning and Songi was happy to oblige even if she normally hates driving at night.

“I think so, I know you’ll shower him with as much love as you can. He’d have no reason not to like it.”

“Taehyung?” She asks, laughing to herself for parroting you from earlier. “I know, you meant the cat. But on a serious note, the cat will like me better than him right? It’d be so depressing for my cat to like my boyfriend more than me.”

“Mmm that one is hard. Your boyfriend is scarily beautiful.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side.” Songi whines.

“I am, I’m just speaking facts. It doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful too.” Your phone buzzes and it’s a text from Mina asking what your plans are for tonight. You guess Mina didn’t go home after all.

“Is it okay if Mina comes along? Hobi’s probably with her too.” You ask, already typing out a reply because you know Songi will agree.

“That’s fine. But hey, can you give me directions again? I really don’t know where I’m supposed to be going.”

4 hours, 47 minutes, 27 seconds until Christmas

Songi is sidled up beside Taehyung, his arm resting on her leg while Hobi has his arm wrapped around Mina’s shoulders. You’re all crammed inside a small circular booth, mountains of food spread around the table as you joke around about nothing in particular. You had forgotten Taehyung and Hobi were close friends, having met so many of said friends that it feels like everyone is just a friend of a friend. And yet despite being the only one without a significant other, you don’t feel left out or lonely. In fact, you’re the happiest you’ve been these past two days as you listen to Taehyung ramble on about the time he had to streak across campus.

“Should I be horrified that the campus security guards know what my boyfriend’s dick looks like before I do?” Songi laughs.

“Hey they only got a preview, you get the full movie.” She giggles to which you all collectively groan.

“Gross!” Songi says, making Taehyung beside her pout.

“I don’t know why I thought finding Hobi would make you any less shameless.” You chuckle.

“Hey you all love me like this. Take it or leave it as they say.” Mina says, dipping a fry in ranch before popping it into her mouth. “You sure you can handle all this Hobi?” She asks to which he only winks. Lord help you, there’s two of them.

“I think our best moment was when we convinced Namjoon to sneak into the science labs and set all the testing rats free. Imagine this like six foot tall man screaming as a bunch of little white rats chase after him.” Taehyung giggles.

“What he didn’t know was that Jungkook had stuffed cheese into the pockets of his cargo pants so the rats were trying to get a midnight snack.” Hobi snickers.

“Where’d they all go?” Songi asks.

“They just kinda scattered around campus. I’m sure half of them live near the dining halls now.” Hobi says.

“Do you think they formed packs? Or are they like Remy from Ratatouille and are going to take over as chefs. The dining halls could really use an upgrade. Remember when we used to trek across campus just to get a decent dinner?” Taehyung asks.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you two go and ask them?” Mina snickers.

“Jungkook.” They both say suddenly like that’s a reasonable and valid answer.

“Jungkook.” You repeat, the words somewhat familiar on your tongue. Why did you know that name? Pulling out your phone you look back to the list of names Hoseok had given you of those who wore Santa costumes and gasp. “Jungkook!”

“Yes that is his name.” Taehyung adds dryly.

“Jungkook was wearing a Santa suit! At the party. He’s one of the two left. Do you know where I can find him?” You ask and Hobi shrugs.

“He’s probably gone home by this hour. He was whining so much about missing his mom that I’m sure he left earlier this morning to go see her sooner.” You visibly deflate and Taehyung decides to offer up additional advice.

“Jungkook and Namjoon live together. That’s two of your list right? I’ll send you the address and you can see if anyone is home.”

“Don’t you think that’s a violation of privacy?” Hobi whispers.

“Nah it’s fine. A bunch of porn sights probably track their location with all the viruses Namjoon downloads anyways.” Taehyung says this so casually that you wonder if a big part of Namjoon’s personality is liking erotic videos. You really hope not, soulmate or not. You have a threshold for that type of conversation and Mina is relatively mild but even she regularly meets said threshold.

“Anyways, they’re not that far from here if you want me to walk you there. I live nearby anyways.” Taehyung offers.

“If you’re sure.”

“No problem.”

4 hours, 15 minutes, 53 seconds until Christmas

The apartment building is small, the colors muted brown and had Taehyung not pointed it out to you, you would’ve missed it entirely. The only source of light is small patio lights strewn between the buildings, the likes of which are only a few stories tall. Taehyung tells you the apartment number before riding off, leaving you to your own devices. Except, you realize too late that despite the buildings being rather old they’ve upgraded to modern systems. Which means you need a fob to get in. You could walk home and call it a night, but at this point you’re just annoyed and stubborn. So instead you meander through the convenience store for a half hour, pretending that you care about the difference between regular and kettle chips when you spot someone walking towards the gate. Abandoning the aisle, you hurry out of the store and cross the street.

“Hey! I lost my fob could you let me in?” You ask, a pleasant smile on your face to try and sway the guy. You can’t see his face well, it’s obscured by a black baseball cap but you can see the distrust in his eyes. “Please?” You try again.

“I guess.” He mumbles, holding the door for you to slip inside. You have half a mind to warn him against doing such things in the case of strangers only to realize that you are the stranger in this situation.

“Thanks!” You say, hurrying away before he can kick you out. The guy working the convenience store was definitely taking note of your blatant loitering and he didn’t seem like the type to ignore it. It turns out the building coordination here is quite complex because while you’d think 101-106 would be on the right and 093-100 on the left, 093-100 is actually the next building over. It’s like they put the apartment numbers in a random generator and just let that decide the order. You’re making your fifth round of building B like a creep when you decide to just sit in the stairwell in shame. It’s clear this apartment complex is your own personal form of hell for trying to best the soulmate system which so clearly doesn’t want you to find your soulmate before the holidays. You already have your phone out to call Mina and express your woes when you hear the door below you attached to the stairwell open. Before you can scramble out of the way a pair of multicolored chunky sneakers stand on the step beneath your own.

“You okay?” The stranger asks and you just nod. “Are you sure? You look a little lost.”

“Metaphorically and physically, yes I am very lost. I have somehow found my soulmate and forgot them within the same day, I’ve been running around the city chasing after fucking Santa like an insane person and I have no idea where the fuck apartment 387 is.” You sigh, glad to release at least some of your pent up frustration. The stranger takes a minute before holding out a hand for you to grab.

“Lucky for you I happen to know where apartment 387 is.” His smile is indented by deep dimples, nicely framing thick lips.

“Really?” You ask, slipping your hand into his own and allowing him to drag you up.

“Sure thing. If you’re this determined to meet your soulmate I’m sure they’re equally distraught at not finding you yet.” He offers thoughtfully and you just hum.

“I don’t know, don’t you think I’d have run into them by now? I’ve been all around the city today.”

“Two moving pieces are just as hard to connect as two not moving at all.” The stranger offers before stopping in front of door 387. Just as you’re about to thank him he unlocks it and looks back at you with a wide smile. “How about you come in and have a drink? He should be home soon anyways. Probably equally as frustrated as yourself.”

“If it’s not a bother…”

“Hey you’re my best friend’s soulmate, you’ll never be a bother. Besides I try and do one good deed a day, so reuniting lost lovers can be that.”

“Funny, Yoongi said the same thing.” You muse to yourself.

“Who do you think taught him? I’m Namjoon by the way.” You freeze, mind struggling to pair the apparent porn addict with the insightful, sophisticated man in front of you. He notices this pause and frowns. “What did one of my idiots for friends say?”

“Uhh…maybe just something about porn.” You mumble and Namjoon just takes a moment to deeply sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“You should know they’re the ones who asked me to download it.” He huffs. “Chamomile or hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate is just fine.” You say, taking a a moment to observe the apartment. It’s decorated rather warmly, rich browns and black melding with soft orange. It feels a bit like you’re sitting at the edge of a bonfire, admiring the pretty glow it casts on everything. “Your decoration is really nice.” You say, taking note of the little wooden figures strewn across the living room. A small glass bunny makes you smile.

“Thanks I decorated it myself. I double major in interior design and business.”

“You think you could decorate my apartment? It’s terribly bland because my roommates and I all have different taste in decorating.”

“Sure thing, send me the dimensions and I’ll pick some stuff out. A lot of this is thrifted or from local vintage shops, so it’s not nearly as expensive as it seems.”

“Smart shopping, very sustainable.”

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for shopping but a stickler for lessening environmental footprints.” Namjoon says and you laugh, hiding your smile behind the mug he hands you. He even went so far as to add whipped cream at the top with chocolate shavings.

“Thank you. This is the best hot chocolate I’ve had so far.”

“Cool! I got some imported Belgian chocolate and-“

“Joonie I can’t do this anymore.” A third voice sounds before their body even enters the apartment, the front door thrown open carelessly as they flop themselves onto the couch. A jingle plays itself in your head, the bells have a rather bright sound. Namjoon urges you forward and you carry your mug with you just to keep your hands from shaking. “I’ve gone all over the city for nothing and of course when I come home to wallow in pity the bells are mocking me. They’re getting louder with each passing second Namjoon!” They whine, voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

“Would you like a hot chocolate?” You ask and they sit up so quickly that you jump back, sloshing some of the hot liquid onto your wrist. “Fuck! That’s so hot.” You whine, your supposed soulmate jumping over the back of the couch and holding your wrist gently in their hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” They say, but you can’t even feel the burn because your nerves are too focused on his touch. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, as he hurries you into the kitchen to run cold water over your wrist. His mouth is moving a mile a minute, murmuring apologies and yet you can only fixate on the mole on his lower lip and the way his dark hair hangs in his eyes, long lashes blinking away stray strands. His nose is strong, a pretty curve making it much too enticing for you to not kiss it at least once. He seems to notice you’re not paying attention because he finally turns to face you head on and it’s only then does he seem to recognize you.

Similarly to last time his eyes are wide, several emotions running through them that you attempt to read: confusion, surprise, relief. He almost sags against you, pulling you into him before you can even think of anything to say. With your nose tucked into his neck, you can feel his small tremors and attempt to suppress them by pulling him in tighter. “I-I didn’t think-“

“I know.” You shush him softly, taking in how warm and solid he is, how real he feels beneath your palms. He smells like fresh linen, and when he finally pulls far away enough that you can look into his eyes you kiss the tip of his nose. His cheeks flush but the hands on your waist tighten. “I’ve looked everywhere for you, you know?”

He scoffs. “I could say the same. Why’d you disappear yesterday? I thought maybe you realized you didn’t..want me.”

“That could and would never be it.” You reassure him, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. “I hate for this to be our first meeting but I was super drunk when we met. I couldn’t really think and my friend thought I was really sick so she took me home before I had the chance to say anything.”

“Jin did say you drank an entire bottle of schnapps. Thanks for that by the way, now I owe him a new bottle.”

“He knew?! Why didn’t he save us the heartbreak and force us together?” You ask and he turns his head towards the small kitchen window.

Scratching the back of his neck, he mumbles, “that might’ve been my fault. I was supposed to be hosting with Joon but decided I didn’t want the mess. By then word already got out so someone had to host. You could say this was my punishment that you unfortunately had to suffer through as well.”

“Next time I’m going to pour his schnapps down the drain instead. Better yet, we’ll buy a bottle, drink it and replace it with thick water!” You huff and he smiles.

“I like the way you think. But what is thick water?”

“I heard it’s the consistency of snot. I guess drinkable jello would be the closest texture.” He scrunches his nose in distaste and you smile. He’s so cute.

“I uhh-I’m Jungkook by the way. I don’t think I mentioned that.”

“Y/n.” He stares at you for a moment before placing both hands on your cheeks and placing a tender kiss to your lips. It’s soft and warm, very much like the man who stands in front of you.

“You’re the best gift I could’ve ever asked for.” He says and despite the cheesy line the sincerity with which he speaks warms you. His hand falls to your own, only when he brushes against your wrist do you hiss and the moment is broken. “Shit, I forgot. Don’t worry baby, I took sports medicine in high school, I’ll fix it up real quick.”

0 hours, 0 minutes, 10 seconds

Jungkook’s arms wrap tightly around your frame, the both of you cuddled into the thickest blanket he could find as you gaze at the city around you. Your wrapped wrist sits carefully against your chest, a heart drawn over the fabric by Jungkook himself. The city lights are so pretty at night, the sky clear enough that if you strain your eyes you can even make out a few stars. The only stars you’re concerned about though are the ones in Jungkook’s eyes, glittering prettily as the sign from the convenience store across the street illuminates them. He takes a sip of Namjoon’s hot chocolate from a thermos before handing it to you, brushing your hair out of your face that’s been displaced by the slight breeze. Despite the fact that you’re both shivering you don’t think you’ve been this warm in a while. It’s part of the reason you insisted to stay out here just a little bit longer even though Jungkook’s warm bed is waiting for you downstairs. You just wanted to be in your own world a little longer, wanting to have an excuse to mold yourself as closely against Jungkook as humanly possible. Clicking his phone the time illuminates, 11:59, staring back at you before flicking to 12:00.

“Merry Christmas Jungkook.” You murmur pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as he smiles.

“Merry Christmas baby.” He says. Your eyes fall back onto his own and he’s looking at you as if you’re his whole world. You know your own mirror the same sentiment and you press closer to connect your lips to his own, writing your future along his tongue.

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tell-tale-taeil · 3 years

Photo

A customer (Chapter 1 out of 2)

Protagonists: Jeno Lee, original character, NCT Dream members mentioned Genre: mystery, noir, self-knowledge “Jeno wanders to a mysterious bookstore where he encounters even more mysterious individual, but somewhere deep down Jeno knows that this story is actually only about him.” TW: none

See other members’ stories here:

TBA

Author’s note: When I saw this particular moodboard, an idea sparked inside my mind. With a constant support from my friends, I finally finished the first half of the story that I am presenting to you now. Thank you for your love and kindness, this is for you, I hope you’ll like it :) Special thanks to Woo and Volpe for proofreading <3

Any feedback, reactions, comments, recommendations or ideas for other members’ stories are welcomed, I wouldn’t mind turning this into a series.

Tagging: @neocluefor , @your-local--trashcan Let me know if you want to be added!

A dark, dim evening, the sun had just set, bits of the dusky orange sky shone through the maze of power lines, chimneys, rooftops and posts. As Jeno was walking down an empty tucked away backstreet, he felt like he set foot on a hidden crossroad between two worlds. The feeling of the unknown and the unexplored sent shivers down his spine and he quickened his pace, as he did not wish to get held up at here any longer than necessary. He told his manager he just wanted to grab something warm to eat and stretch his legs a little, but the truth was… He wanted to be alone.

Not so long ago Jeno realised he has a very rare gift – a gift of invisibility. Wherever he’d go, no matter how many people surrounded him, he felt unseen and unnoticed. Jeno, we need you to voice over this ad. Jeno, we need you to shoot a dance video. Jeno, we need you to smile for the photos. No, no, do the thing with your eyes, yes. Oh, you’re still here? We don’t need anything now. Sorry, were you saying something? Listen I gotta go, talk to you later maybe? Everyone knows Jeno the idol, but how many people have heard of Jeno the person? How many people remember Jeno the friend from school, Jeno the boy next door? What’s the point of rushing back into dorms, if he’s going to feel all the same? At least at here I can hear my own thoughts for a change. Without having to fight to get a word in. Noone’s interested in what you have to say anyway, so be a man, Jeno, and go sulk somewhere where people don’t have to look at your sorry face. Hmm, jjamppong sounds nice.

He walked where his feet led him, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes staring blankly on the passing pavement tiles, red tiles, black tiles, grey tiles, shapes and figures, forms and contours. His mind unfocused, his thoughts scattered. Stop. Wait. Like in a dream, he saw himself standing in front of a narrow door, black paint flaking away, a few variously shaped and randomly placed yellow window panes, a big brass handle waiting to be pulled. He noticed a little oval plaque in his field of vision and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a bookshop. A minute passed, maybe ten, maybe an hour. Jeno glanced around, scratching his head. „Uh… good evening!“ He bowed his head a little, even though he didn’t see anyone at the counter. Nevertheless, he felt like he’s being watched, scrutinized, evaluated. Something was staring at him and Jeno suddenly wished that he was invisible again. He turned his head to where he felt the uncomfortable feeling coming from and there it was - behind the desk, on the left side of the wall, squished between large overflowing bookcases, right next to a tall wooden coat-stand shaped like an old tree - a red door with a big round opened eye painted on it. The door was opened, just a few centimetres, and a faint piano music was coming from inside. Come in, if you dare.

Jeno cleared his throat. Might as well look around properly, before they come back out. It’s no use of shouting or trying to make myself heard while that song is still playing. Listening to the melancholic but somewhat promising tune, Jeno inspected the surroundings. The shop looked messy and untidy. Chaos was the king of this castle, carelessness the lady of this household and together they ruled over their tiny land made of heaps of books, magazines and papers haphazardly placed on each other, shelves full of postcards and pictures, walls covered with ornaments and embellishments. Without a single tag or label in sight, Jeno wondered how could anyone find anything in here. He imagined the miscellaneous objects flowing into the shop and never leaving again. His gaze landed on a flashy pink paper packet filled with chewing gums in a no less showy wrapper on one of the shelves. Cool, a freebie! He reached for the gum, unpacked it and threw it into his mouth only to immediately pull a disgusted face as he chewed into the candy. It was like biting into a tasteless rubber. He spit it back out into the crumpled wrapper, put it next to the rest of the unused gums and set out to look for a trash can. He tripped on the thick dusty carpet and nearly stepped on something that looked rather expensive. This must be a bookshop with super rare prints and antiquities of some kind, this isn’t a place for me, I don’t fit in here, I should leave. And so, he stayed, bound in the place by a force of increasing curiosity he did not quite understand.

The piano stopped playing. Perfect, now’s my chance. „Hello? You, uh, have a customer! Heh…“ he stuttered awkwardly. Jeno wasn’t the type of a person who would enjoy excessive attention. If he ever tried to voice his opinion and was met with disregard or unconcern, he would simply think it was because his opinion on that matter was stupid and pointless. That’s why he was fairly used to this, not being heard. The only difference was that usually the rest of the members would fill the room with their chatter, so his lack of involvement in the group activities would normally go unnoticed. Unlike here, where the only sound was a deathly silence and Jeno’s thoughts humming in his head. He already spoke twice, what more does he need to do to be heard? Raise his voice? I just want to buy a book and get out of here. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak and right at that moment, the piano started playing again.

„Wha-, are you kidding me?“ he mumbled quietly under his breath. He looked around, confused, as if he was looking for understanding and sympathy from the other angry customers waiting for their turn to be served. He was the only one here and yet they’re making him wait. What is this, a private concert? Did they possibly saw him coming? Did they think that they’ll impress him with playing lowkey creepy piano melodies? This better not be a prank. He really wasn’t in the mood for fans and he didn’t think he could fake a smile at this hour. But he didn’t notice any hidden cameras, or any security cameras at all for that matter. He paced around the room nervously, scratching his neck. That’s it, I’m leaving. I don’t need that book anyway. I don’t need anything. If they don’t want me here, that’s okay, I’ll do just fine on my own.

He made a few strides towards the front door and then turned around again. „Hellooo! I came here to ask about books! Books that you happen to be selling!“ he raised his voice to the most pleading yet still polite level. The piano stopped again and Jeno gazed hopefully at the red door. He started walking back to the counter, slowly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to scare off the possibility of finally being served. He leaned on the desk, ready to place his order, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dark wooden surface. And just like that, as if it wanted to laugh directly into Jeno’s face, the piano started playing yet another tune, as impatient as Jeno himself. He pursed his lips and bent his head down. What the heck is this place, huh? A bookstore or a concert venue? At least serve some coffee and cake next time! He could just leave, never come back and forget about this place. But he really needed that book, he’s been looking for it so long, and he knew, he just knew, that this is the right place to look for it.

„Alright!“ Jeno raised his head and pointed his index finger to the door, from which the music was coming. „I’m going in there! And I’m going to knock real loud, so you better not be scared or surprised or angry!“ I doubt they can hear me, he thought, as the music only grew louder and louder. Okay, here we go… He approached the door behind the counter, cautiously, and with his finger still pointing forwards he tapped on the red wood with his nail a few times, gingerly, like he was expecting the door to bite his hand, after a while he shook his head and finally made a few feeble knocks. He put his head inside with a quiet: „Excuse me…“ and peeped into the backroom. As soon as his foot touched the threshold, the music stopped playing and Jeno opened the door wide. The room was small and empty, safe for the piano by the wall. No other door, windows, cabinets, electrical appliances, boxes, merchandise, not even trash. Just four bare walls and the damn piano that he swore was playing just a mere second ago.

Jeno gulped, his hand on the doorknob, his feet midstep, his whole body ready to run in the even that something would go wrong. Now now, be brave. „Hello?“ his voice was dry, hoarse and small. Goosebumps covered his nape. „Oh! A customer!“ said a voice behind him. „JESUS CHRIST!“ Jeno nearly fell back onto the ground, as he made several hurried steps backwards, tripping over boxes, books and papers, knocking over the tree coat-stand which embraced him in its patulous grip, making him feel trapped. „Can I help you?“ said the voice and as Jeno’s ragged breath started to decelerate again and as the stars stopped dancing in front of his eyes, only now he saw a pale face hovering in the shadows of the dimly lit place. The initial shock was over and, gradually, the face grew hair, and connected with a torso, arms and legs. „I…“ Jeno stuttered as he finally untangled himself from the clasp of the coat-stand and stood straight, „came here to buy a book.“ He clutched his hand near his heart and blinked hard for a few times. Get a grip, man, get a grip. „Then you’re in the right place! After all, this is a bookstore and we store all kinds of books,“ smiled the face that no longer resembled a ghost, but a person. „I’ve been… waiting here for 15 minutes… at least.“ He tried to sound angry, but the truth was he wasn’t really sure of how much time he actually spent here. Oh my god. A thought just crossed his mind. What if they’re already closed and I didn’t notice and just practically barged in here demanding to be served?!?! He wiped his forehead and opened his mouth to apologize for his intrusion, but before he could say anything, the figure in front of him spoke again. „Gosh, but I didn’t hear or see you at all!“ said the person, covering their red coloured lips with their hand. Typical. „I… tried to…“ Jeno sighed. If they didn’t hear me, I should have made more effort I guess. „I apologize, I’m sorry for the inconvenience I caused you.“ He bowed his head slightly. The person, dressed in a silky black dress that rustled with every step, fixed their dark eyes on Jeno’s apologetic face and shook their head disappointedly. They passed Jeno, who hurriedly backed out of their way, bumping into the red door, oh, I could have sworn the eye was open. huh, weird, and started to rummage through the bookshelves and bookcases, opening drawers and cabinets, dancing around all the clutter with their feet bare, without knocking over a single thing.

„So?“ asked the bookstore owner, combing through a particularly overflowing drawer. „Sorry?“ „Which book are you looking for?“ Jeno resisted the urge to facepalm himself and laughed nervously instead. „Ah, the book…“ Wait, the book? What book? „Umm… the book,“ he frowned. Why is he here again? He finished his schedule, yes, and then got out of the car sooner than the rest, because…? Because I wanted to buy a book? Uhh… I guess? „Um, yeah, I was hoping to get a book about the history of-“ „Hey!“ the character was now standing in the middle of the room, their arms crossed in an irritated manner, the long red painted nails tapping angrily. „Did you eat my chewing gum?“ You IDIOT! And you even left the wrapper and the actual gum right there on the shelf, ugh! „I’m really sorry,“ Jeno started apologizing at the double, „it was just sitting there, I thought-“ „How did it taste?“ asked the owner. „Um…“ Jeno blinked a few times and frowned. „Weird,“ he answered, looking down at his feet, like he was feeling guilty and disappointed at the same time. „I remember really liking this brand and it surprised me that is tasted so… stale,“ he answered truthfully. The woman sighed. „No wonder. It’s a special edition, a collectible. It’s been sitting here for five years. And now it’s ruined.“ She took the whole package in her hands and shook her head, discontented. Who the hell stores a pack of freaking chewing gums? „I guess I should have treated it better, maybe all the exposure made it tasteless and bland.“ She clicked her tongue. „What a shame. But at least the wrapping is still colourful and pretty to look at.“ „Uh… yeah. Sorry about that.“ She put the gums back in place and resumed with the thorough scouring of the area. „What book did you say you wanted?“ Oh, yeah, the book. The damn book again. „Ah, yeah, um… I was interested in the techniques of-“ „How about this one?“ The woman, currently kneeling down by one of the huge bookcases, proposed. Jeno stared at her, eyes wide. She reached under the furniture, scrabbled and felt around a bit, until she triumphantly retrieved a blue hardback tome. Just what is going on in here?

Jeno watched the woman get up again, dust down her knees with a sigh, and then walk back behind the counter. She put the book on the desk and Jeno finally got a good look. The jacket was dusty, creased and torn in a few places. There were no pictures or details, it was just… blue. „Sound…” he read out loud. „Sound?“ Jeno raised an eyebrow. „That’s the title, yes.“ „It looks like a… heavy reading.“ He took the book in his hands to weigh it, it must be at least 500 pages long. „And pretty expensive.“ „It’s a poetry book, if you’re worried about the pages. And you don’t have to pay me for it.“ „Ah, I-… Wait, what? You don’t want me to pay you for it?“ „No, because I am not selling it to you. I’ll only let you borrow it. I‘ve always wanted to read it, because I am curious about the story, but… Do you sometimes get the feeling, be it a book, a movie, a photograph, or even a new pair of shoes, that it’s calling out to you? And when you finally get it, it’s like it’s your missing puzzle piece that you didn’t even know you need and it makes you complete?“ „I… guess, yeah.“ But not really, no. I can’t remember the last time I had this feeling. „Well, turns out, this book doesn’t complete me.“ She packed it in a plain paper bag and sealed it with a decorative tape. „But it might complete you,“ the owner said expectantly, sliding the wrapped book towards Jeno. He touched the paper and for a while, the room drowned in complete silence and time stopped, like a movie that froze and only showed a single frame. A frame with a book wrapped in a plain paper bag in the center, a woman’s hand with red fingernails touching it on the right, a man’s veined hand touching it on the left. Jeno’s hand.

He moved his fingers the tiniest bit and with them, the book. His body was immediately hit with a wave of electricity, the time unfroze and Jeno sighed heavily, leaning against the counter, like he just ran a hurdle race. „Will that be all?“ asked the owner with a kind smile. „I… can’t just take it.“ „You already did.“ She pointed towards the book Jeno was hugging anxiously, like he was afraid someone would steal it from him. He looked down, sighed again and finally stood up straight again. „I can’t take it for free. Even though I’m just borrowing it. How do you know I won’t run off with it?“ „Are you a thief?“ „No, but… I could be!“ „Well, in that case… How about you leave something behind then, like a pledge? I quite like the ring of yours,“ she pointed on Jeno’s hand, which he quickly pulled away. „That’s… it’s not anything fancy, and it’s bent, twisted… it’s worthless.“ „I’ll lend you a thing that’s worthless to me and you’ll lend me a thing that’s worthless to you. That’s a fair deal I’d say.“ She held out her hand. Jeno hesitated. What will the others think when he comes back without his friendship ring? They probably won’t even notice. „Alright…“ he took off the ring and rolled it around for a bit in his hand. Then, with a guilty feeling, he placed it in the owner’s hand, immediately regretting his decision. „Thank you for your purchase, have a nice day and see you whenever!“ he heard the woman say with a smile, pocketing the ring quickly. Then the door behind him shut with a loud bang and he was staying outside, with a book he didn’t know he needed and without a ring he didn’t remember wearing.

#Lee Jeno #Jeno #NCT Jeno #NCT #NCT Dream #NCT fanfic #Jeno fanfic #NCT scenarios #NCT Dream scenarios #my writing

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hollanderfangirl · 4 years

Text

Let me go |Harry Holland|

Pairing: Harry Holland x Therapist! Reader

A/N: so I'm not a therapist and I've never been to therapy, well if you don't consider the sessions with my psychology teacher. All of what I've written comes from what I've learnt in psychology class, reading books and listening to other people's experiences.

Warnings: talk about death, panic attack and it's just really sad

Word count: 3.3k, this is my longest fic yet :)

(Sorry for the shitty moodboard I just had to post this fic or I would have lost my mind)

Harry Holland walked through the halls of the clinic, not really sure why he was here. Well he knew why he had come to see a therapist but he wondered how he put himself in this situation. He had been locking himself inside a glass cave built out of hopelessness for months, his friends and family were greatly concerned about him but he refused to take any help. He had always been stubborn, he never asked for anybody's help. He hated the look of pity on people's faces. He hated people showing him sympathy. He was more than this. He didn't need anybody. He can pull himself together, he just needed time.

But it wasn't helping. Burying your feelings in has never helped anybody. Putting on a smile everyday in front of people and crying himself to sleep, Harry found it more and more difficult. His mum had sensed it and told him to go and see a doctor. He had resisted it at first.

"Please do it for me, Harry. I cannot see you like this, at least for my satisfaction," Nikki had said. "Just go for a trial session and if you like it then you can continue," but of course he wasn't going to continue.

Now as he stood in front of the receptionist, he was reconsidering his decision.

"Yes, do you have an appointment, sir?"

"Huh?" he seemed lost. "Yeah..yeah"

"Just wait here, I'll inform Dr Y/l/n"

"Your know what, cancel the appointment. I- I don't need help"

"Oh but this is just a trial, Mr Holland"

"Yeah but I don't-" the receptionist was already at the door, muttering something to the woman inside.

You step outside to see a curly headed man, he looked pleasant but his eyes looked sad. Those were the eyes of a person who had seen immense grief, someone who had been miserable for a long long time.

"I'm sorry but I don't need therapy… I didn't realise this before, I -I shouldn't have come here"

"Oh Mr Holland, this is just a trial right? Let's just have some coffee. This isn't therapy yet" you smile at him.

"No I really-"

"Okay then, give me half an hour. If you still feel the same way, then you can leave. Half an hour is all I want from you, Mr Holland"

"Alright"

You lead him into your chamber, closing the door behind you. He sits down on a couch across from you, your desk separating you both. The first step of therapy- resistance. People always resist therapy at first, they feel like they don't need the help or maybe seeking help makes them weak. They don't feel like opening up to a complete stranger. How can they? How can they open up their most vulnerable state to a person who they barely know? But slowly and steadily, a rapport is made. A therapist has to be very careful and empathetic. They have to be trusting. Someone who people can turn to. Someone who they can relate to. Someone who understands them. Someone who would just listen.

"So, your mother sent you here. Right, Mr Holland?"

"Just- just call me Harry"

"Okay then Harry, tell me"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"Everything. Start from the beginning"

"Well I- do you… do you really think I would-" he hesitates. "Who do you think you are? Why do you think I should pay you to listen to my goddamn life story here?"

"You're not here to tell me your life story," you say politely. "I'm here to help you and I can do that only if you would let me"

"Well guess what? You cannot help me, I knew I was wasting my time," he gets up and starts to walk away.

"I asked for half an hour of your time, Harry"

"Well I don't fucking care"

"Harry, please listen to me. All I ask is half an hour"

Little did he know, this half an hour was going to change his life.

Something about your tone made him stay. He sat back down on the couch, turning away from you.

"Okay, so if you're not going to talk, I will," you sigh. "So, you have suffered a great loss, someone you loved dearly?"

"Yes," he still didn't look you in the eye.

"Who was it?"

"My…my friend. Girlfriend"

"And when did this happen?"

"A year ago"

"How have you been holding up?"

He thought of giving another vague answer. How the fuck do you think I'm holding up? I'm fucking dying every single day.

"Uh- it's been a little better, I guess. It's not as bad as it used to be"

"Well that's a start. And do you still think about her?"

Every goddamn minute, lady. What do you want from me? "Yeah sometimes"

"And how have you been sleeping?"

I can't sleep. I haven't slept properly for months. If I sleep I see her coming back to me. "Alright I guess"

This wasn't going anywhere. You thought of recommending him another doctor but something about him charmed you. He was a man who should have been living a great life but his grief was tearing him apart. You had to help him. You felt a strong connection to him, you felt determined. No, I have to help him. I just have to.

"Harry, do you feel like you're responsible for your girlfriend's death?" it was a straightforward question, you had been trying to get something out of him but he wasn't ready to.

He looked at you dead in the eye, yet could not get any words out. You could sense the anger building up inside him but it wasn't projected at you, he was angry with himself.

"I….. " he took a few deep breaths, clenching his hands into fists. "Yes"

"Why is that so?"

"Fucking hell! Are you for real? She died, okay? And I wasn't there… I wasn't there.. " he was tearing up. "I should have been the one to die! Not her! Not anybody! Everyone just leaves me in the end!" he was full on shouting, letting out everything he had been holding inside himself for a whole year. He had tears in his eyes.

You handed him a box of tissues and he was gasping for breath. When he had calmed down, you both sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You know, Harry, my friend died the day we had a fight. She was my best friend. I knew her ever since we were three. It was a silly argument. We should not have fought about it. But we did and I told her I wished she would just go away… and then she did" it was painful for you to remember this, but time does heal everything.

"I'm sorry," his voice was low. "And I'm sorry for all those things I said"

"No it's alright, that's what you're here for. And besides, it's nothing compared to your loss, Harry"

"No. It- it's not a competition. Suffering is not a competition. It must've been really hard for you, Dr y/l/n," this was the first time he had addressed you.

"Call me y/n," you smile at him. "And yeah that's very true. We often blame ourselves, you know, it's very common. We cannot be angry at them so we get angry with ourselves. Even though we know deep in our hearts that there was nothing we could have done"

There was a long silence.

"She went out for a drive, that bastard drunk driver," he spoke up. "And I was just resting. She asked me so many times to join her but I wanted to sleep"

You nod at him and he continued. "That's…the reason I'm not able to sleep. Every night I close my eyes, I think I'll wake up to that phone call"

"Well yes I don't blame you, our brains sometimes don't process things that come as a shock. And then it just keeps on haunting us forever. Do you believe in life after death, Harry?"

"Well I don't know what to believe"

"Have you- felt her? After she was gone?"

"You'll think I'm crazy"

"I'm a therapist, it'll take you much more than that to convince me you're crazy"

"I sometimes talk to her. Like what would she think about this particular situation. Or just that I miss her so much. I don't get any responses but I just try to think like her?"

"Yeah, that's quite normal actually. People think they need to 'get over' someone's death. But that's not true. You can never really get over something like death"

"And what does getting over even mean? Like you just forget them? Moving on with your life just means that you think they were never a part of it"

"Well you're both right and wrong. Yes we must remember our loved ones who are not with us anymore but at the same time, we have to let them go"

"How? It's too painful"

"I know. But do you believe in the concept of souls, Harry?"

"Yeah I mean," he shrugs.

"The soul is considered to be immortal. And groups of souls tend to travel together. Even if you don't know it, some way, somehow, they're always with us"

He says nothing but his eyes looked softer now.

"And just think about it, think of her seeing you like this. Do you think she could have handled you being so miserable?"

"She would have been heartbroken"

"Exactly. So do it for her, for yourself. For both of you to feel peace again"

"Yeah"

You look at your watch. Half an hour was up.

"So, Harry. Your half an hour is up. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, um we can talk about it in our next session?"

You smile at him. "Of course"

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

After that one half an hour session, Harry was a changed man. He was still mourning, he was still miserable but he had hope. For the first time in a long time, he thought he could actually go on with his life, he could finally feel peace.

The week went by smoothly. Harry tried to make himself busy, by surrounding himself with people and always working. He was still getting nightmares but he was determined to sleep. He was sleeping light, afraid of what deep sleep might show him.

Meanwhile your life was exactly the same, you went on with your day treating people, talking, helping them. You loved your job, you loved the sense of satisfaction you got after patients they told you they were finally better. Every person was a challenge, and you knew there was a gem hidden inside every one of them. All of them had immense potential but life hadn't been kind to them. You felt disturbed and it broke your heart to see people hurting. And you would do anything to make it better for them. To help them.

You couldn’t keep Harry out of your mind. You were thinking about him all day long, awaiting your next session with him. What if he cancels? What can I do if he does? Why am I thinking about him? He had this air around him, a magnetic pull, which was pulling your closer and closer towards him. And why is he so damn attractive? No I should not think about him that way. It was the first and foremost rule of your profession. Never get emotionally attached with your clients. It was a professional relationship and must remain that way.

When he came into your office the following week, you could sense the change in him. You felt proud that a single session made such a difference. There was no arrogance in him, he didn’t seem angry anymore. He was calm and better.

“So, Harry. How was your week?”

“It was good, I’ve been shooting my new short film and it’s coming out to be okay so far”

“Alright and how have you been sleeping?”

“Not that good to be honest. I still get dreams, uh bad dreams”

“What do you see in these dreams?”

“I see the accident scene….again and again, it’s the same dream. Sometimes I see her, she talks to me and all that”

“Hmm and have you talked to your family? Your friends?”

“Yeah I talked to my mum…and my brother”

“What did they say?”

“They said they are here for me and will always love me”

“Yes and I don’t doubt that, Harry. You have a lot of people in your life who love and support you. Embrace that”

The session went by smoothly, he opened up to you about his life, everything about the girl he loved so much. About his family, his career. You found yourself staring at him, taking glances at his hands which he constantly moved while he talked. You noticed he was shaking his leg the whole time. Stop staring, y/n.

Wow she’s so beautiful. And thoughtful. And funny and understanding. What am I doing? She’s my therapist….but…why couldn’t I have met her before? Why didn’t I meet her when I was normal? Would things have been different? But then again, I would have never met her if I was normal.

Things seemed to get better, as the weeks progressed, Harry was becoming more and more like his old self again. But there was a feeling of regret, he thought this was wrong as if he were forgetting her. But you were there to guide him, to tell him that this is what life is. It never stops. No matter what happens, you will heal. Someday, sometime. And each day we progress towards it.

And then it happened. The call came at 1 am in the morning. You were sleeping and you were tired, you had been working all day and just needed some rest. You wouldn't have picked the call up but something told you it was important. That you should pick it up.

“Hello?” you yawn.

You just hear muffled breathing for a few seconds.

“Hello? Who is it?”

“It…it’s me…Harry”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” you thought what could have happened at this time of the night.

“I just- can you-” he sounded like he was choking.

“Harry what’s wrong, you’re scaring me”

“I… can’t… breathe,” you hear him sobbing. ”I had… that… dream, I feel like I’m…going to…die”

“Harry, listen to me. You will be okay. Yeah? Just take deep breaths and sit tight. I’m coming to you”

You search through his file to look for his address. When you find it, you rush through the front door and drive to his house. You were on the phone with him the whole drive.

“Just keep breathing, Harry. Deep breaths, okay?”

To your surprise, the front door was unlocked. It looked like he had gone out into the street in the middle of the night. You search through rooms to find him, and you see him curled into a ball at the corner of a king size bed. You touch his shoulder and he flinches.

“Hey, hey it’s just me. It’s alright”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” he was crying, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes looked small and they looked red from the lack of sleep and of tears.

“It’s alright, Harry. Just come here, it’ll be alright,” you pull him towards yourself him and he buries his face into your chest and you held him, stroking his hair and telling him it will be alright.

“That’s it. Let it out, Harry. It’s okay to cry”

You both stayed like that for another 15 minutes. He couldn’t stop crying and you knew he needed that. He had been holding everything in for so long and it just came out like an explosion tonight. You wiped his tears and made him meditate for a few minutes.

He fell asleep and you stayed up all night, looking at him. He looked so innocent while he slept, and cute too, you thought hiding a blush, even though nobody was there to look at you.

That night, Harry finally felt at peace. He was finally able to sleep. He had no nightmares, just a peaceful dream. He saw his girlfriend, running away from him in a white dress with her hair flowing in the wind.

Please don’t leave me, darling. I love you.

I know you do Harry, but you must let me go. I will always be with you. I will always love you. It is time you start caring about yourself, you must let me go. It is time.

No! don’t leave me!

And he woke up. Something about this dream told him that she was right. It was time. He was finally ready to let her go. For both of their sakes.

He went down to find you sleeping on the couch. He was hesitant at his thoughts but deep down he knew he was falling for you. Am I just using her to cope with my loss? Or do I really love her?

You opened your eyes, looking at Harry sitting on the ground, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Good morning, how did you sleep?”

“Better. Really really better. I- I don’t know how to thank you, y/n and I’m so sorry”

“Hey it’s alright, and I’m glad I could help,” you smile. “I should go now, I have to get to work”

“Let me make breakfast and let me drive you to your house”

“Oh no it’s okay I can-”

“I owe this much to you, y/n. Let me”

“Okay”

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

It wasn’t until another week when Harry had his next session. You had been thinking about him all the time, you were confused, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. But he….who am I kidding I’m in love with him.

When he walked through the door on a Thursday morning next week, he looked healthy and happier than ever. You felt a sense of happiness yourself, therapy is always beneficial to both the patient and the therapist. Every person is a deep universe, their thoughts, experiences, pain, joy, everything. Empathising with clients is a great learning experience, it becomes a part your personality. It becomes a part of you.

“Hey y/n”

“Hi Harry”

“So my week as been as it’s always and I’ve been feeling a lot better ever since that day…and that dream” he had told you about the dream he had the night you watched him sleep. He seemed to completely change after that, he let go of the intense emotions he had been carrying around.

“That’s very good and you’ve made a lot of progress since our first meeting”

“Yeah…I have”

The session went on as usual, he talked about everything that happened, he started fighting with his brothers again, which he hadn’t done in a long time and even though they were pissed off at him, they were happy to have him back.

“Um Harry,” you say at the end of the session. “I think-” you try to choose your words correctly. “I think it’s about time you start seeing another therapist, yeah?”

You see his face drop. “wh-why? I’m doing so much better, is..is it because of that night? I’m so sorry y/n”

“No it’s not that. You and I both know what’s happening between us, it’s wrong for a therapist to get emotionally attached with her patient. I’m sorry, Harry”

“So you’re saying that you’re becoming emotionally attached with me?”

“I..I’m-“

“It’s alright. I understand y/n”

“Yes, thank you. This has been great”

“So… now that you’re not my therapist, can I meet you for coffee this evening?”

“Harry-“

“Half an hour, Dr y/l/n. Just give me half an hour of your time, if you still feel the same way, I’ll never bother you again”

“Uh-" you hesitate. You knew you should have said no. You were going to say no. Yet the words which came out of your mouth were “Okay then, it’s a date”

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

Taglist:

@mischiefmanaged011 @notsosmexy @perspectiveparker @justanothermarvelmaniac @amorhollands @thisetaernallove @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003 @peterspideysstuff @musicalkeys @theliterarymess @ilarbu @hollands-weasley @tombob2005 @tommysparker @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @parkerpeter24 @more-like-reyna @hollandbroz-n-haz @aqiise

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland imagine #harry holland angst #harry+holland+x+y/n #harry holland x therapist! reader #harry holland fluff #harry holland fic #harry holland one shot #therapist! reader

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goldenkookietae · 4 years

Text

The Book Fortress Tumbles

BTS One shot

Pairing: Boyfriend!Taehyung x reader

Word count: 3,643 words

Warnings: Smut, strong language, sir!kink, dom!tae, teeny tiny bit of angst

Summary: Your exams are starting soon and you’re beyond stressed. You’re trying not to let that show but it all comes bursting out when your boyfriend Taehyung tries to get you to relax. When you realise your mistake, the only thing you can do, is apologise to him. Just not with words.

A/N: My college just announced that our exams will be held starting from 18th September. That’s too less time to mug up the entirety of the semester syllabus. Sigh. This one shot is reflecting my current situation (minus a Taehyung and dedication towards exams). I accidentally posted this when it was half finished lol, I panicked all the time I was taking it down xD.

Disclaimer: This story is an AU fanfiction that I have created using the names of the members of BTS. I do not claim any ownership over the members of BTS. The plot and the personalities of the characters are entirely my own.

Do not plagiarize my work and do not repost.

Moodboard

*I do not claim ownership over any of the pictures. They are credited to their original owners.

“Y/N~” Taehyung sang, skipping up to the study table, a pile of books hiding the person behind from view.

A faint “yes” was whispered softly from behind the walls of what seemed like a book fortress. Taehyung knew that the queen in this fort had probably not even looked up from her current preoccupation.

But somehow, as the “boyfriend”, he had a few special privileges. Somehow he could pull her to cuddle with him when she had an exam the day next, somehow he could wake her up in the middle of the night and still get her to cook for him, somehow he could steal her ice cream after having his and get her to find him rather cute.

Okay, maybe the last two aren’t true. Those are the things I’d do for her. He thought. Either way, whatever the consequences might be, he felt deprived, almost jealous of bound pages and thick covers.

She had told him a month before, on a day that Taehyung now marked as a blue day in his life, that her exams were coming up and that she’d have to focus on her studies. That she’d have to give her attention to her text books instead of her handsome boyfriend. And the second her exams would be done, they could do whatever he pleased.

Oh, the many many things Taehyung had in mind for everything that pleased him. On top of the list was her name in bold, underlined, Y/N. Y/N had been scanning her books so intently throughout this whole month, it seemed as though she was studying the instructions to defuse a bomb that was seconds from exploding. He hardly saw her around the house, only between the times she came outside to refill her snack jar or water bottle or for her meals. It got to the point where she hadn’t even realised that Taehyung had shifted to her apartment and had been staying with her throughout.

It was funny because they’d share the same bed and wake up inside a warm blanket burrito. Even if she had realised, she hadn’t said a word and Taehyung was more than happy with that. Staying back at his place while she was like this was close to being on an entirely different planet with no forms of communication.

He had picked up a lot of hobbies to distract himself, he played more video games, ate a lot of food, tried cooking (which surprisingly went okay), cleaned her house to make sure she was always comfortable and sometimes worked overtime because everything else was simply boring. But at times when she hadn’t noticed he’d pursue another wonderful hobby. Since Y/N wasn’t really bothered about what Taehyung was up to, he unashamedly spent his time staring at her. She wasn’t even dressed to impress these days, putting on the first thing she reached in her cupboard before sitting down to study.

But she loved being comfortable. And Taehyung noticed how she’d always pick the shortest shorts she had, ones that barely covered the globe of her ass. He would’ve loved those clothes on her every damn day, only if he wasn’t restricted to staying a mile away so she could ‘focus’ and almost suffering from blue balls.

“Y/N~” he whined yet again, choosing to cross over to other side of the fort and poking the bookworm. His plan for the night was to at least get some attention. He had been deprived of it for more than a month, it had reached the point where he would be in an existential crisis from lack of affection.

He would respect all her restrictions, he was being so good at keeping his carnal desires at bay (even if his hand was no match), he hadn’t complained when she finished her food early and left him alone to eat his portion, and definitely didn’t bother her for falling asleep on top of her books. He somehow felt proud of being that boyfriend, the one who’d bring her meals and would carry her back to bed when she’d fallen asleep.

But he just hoped that this, whatever it was, probably a test from the gods, would soon come to an end. And that Y/N would then jump onto his lap and kiss the living daylights out of him to tell him that he passed with flying colours.

All he wanted was a little bit of cuddling that night. The exams were still a week away and she could spare that much for him, couldn’t she?

He poked her again. One last time. And when that earned him nothing more but hummed ‘yes’, he knew it had come down to war. He extended his hands to her waist, caressing the soft flesh before taking on a different turn.

“Taehyungie! Stop!” Y/N hollered, jerking so suddenly that the central defense of her fort broke and tumbled to the ground in all the glory of crumpled and dog eared pages.

All that didn’t bother Taehyung as he tickled her sides, not caring about the curses leaving her mouth at that instant. If he paid any attention, then it would definitely turn him hard.

He picked her up effortlessly, carrying her over to the bed and placing her down. He climbed on top of her slowly, licking his lips as his face leveled with hers.

“Let’s just cuddle for tonight Y/N. You’ve been overworking yourself and it’s okay to take some time off to relieve stress. Relax for today, okay?” Taehyung muttered soothingly, rubbing her arms to warm her skin.

“Or maybe we can do something else to relieve your stress?” He chuckled trying to lighten the passive expression on Y/N’s face but it only made it more poignant. Before he could say anything else, the anxiety all came onto Y/N at once, making her snap.

“Taehyung stop! This is not a joke. My entire career depends on these exams and you’re treating it like a joke! Stop it!” Y/N exclaimed and Taehyung went still.

He knew she didn’t mean that and she knew that her career was as important to Taehyung as it was to her. He was looking out for her simply. She knew this too.

Sighing, Taehyung slid off her and stood next to the bed.

“Your career is important Y/N, I know that. It is to me too. But you’re taking too much pressure. You need a stress buster once in a while. Maybe this was not the best way and I’m sorry about that but maybe we can watch a movie tonight or-” Taehyung kept thinking of more things but Y/N cut him off.

“No. I am not under pressure. I do not need a stress buster. All I need to do is study and revise like I was already doing.” Y/N said as she looked at Taehyung pointedly, before sliding off the bed and sitting down at her desk.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything.” Taehyung gulped. When she didn’t respond, he sighed and left the room as quietly as he could.

Y/N felt bad. When Taehyung had jumped onto her, all her focus flew out of her mind and she finally realised why she had been fidgety all week. Even when Taehyung had offered it to her on a silver platter, she’d refused like a total idiot and was now facing the consequences. From the corner of her eyes, she watched Taehyung through the slightly open door of her room. She could see him laying on the couch, his long legs spread out before him invitingly, his tongue sticking out and jaw flexing as he concentrated on playing the game.

As her eyes slid down, she focused on his hands, his long fingers working the joystick easily, the veins on his arms straining against his skin. Oh, she knew very well what all she wanted him to work with those fingers. The thought made her close her eyes and bite her lip, and she mindlessly clenched her thighs together.

She considered walking up to him right then, but the thought of coming back to him after she’d sent him away so strongly seemed too embarrassing. If that were to happen, Taehyung would never let go of the incident and would tease her about it forever.

In a desperate attempt to calm herself, she turned back to her books, revising topics again and again but still feeling as though she was reading them for the first time ever. Her eyes slid over to her water bottle as she recited the words she’d just read to herself again.

Tae’s thicker than that. She thought looking over the bottle and imagining a different view in front of her.

“What are you doing, you idiot?” she whispered, realising that her hands were now around the bottle, and she was fisting it with a well known need. Sighing she stood up, knowing she had no choice.

She slipped out of her room, trying not to close the door too hard. Walking straight to her boyfriend, she stood in front of the TV, blocking his view while facing him.

Taehyung looked up at her in confusion, and frowned when the sound of his avatar dying echoed behind her. But as soon as Y/N slid to her knees before him, his lips twisted into a smirk. In a second he threw the joystick in his hand to the side and leaned back into the couch making himself comfortable and pushing his legs closer towards her.

When Y/N bit her lip and stared at him hungrily, he raised an eyebrow.

You just gonna sit there or do something? I’m waiting.

It was so easy to understand everything about him after they’d been together for so long and she didn’t want to disappoint him now. Quickly, her hands unbuttoned his skin tight jeans and unzipped them, while Taehyung simply snuggled deeper into the couch as though waiting for a show about to go down.

Well, something was going down alright. That thing being Y/N.

She struggled to pull off the jeans, huffing every time her strength wasn’t enough, and Taehyung made no effort to help her out. Normally, Taehyung would be praising her throughout, but at the moment her only reward was the delicious view of his thick thighs.

Without wasting a second, Y/N pulled his boxer briefs down to his knees, then to his ankles and her face narrowly missed getting hit by his cock. After more than a month of sexual frustration, her mouth drooled as she laid eyes on his thick, huge cock, veins straining against the length as it stood hard and proud. She was a fool, comparing a stupid water bottle to the masterpiece in front of her.

He was already hard, and Y/N thought he must have been for quite some time through the evening. She’d done that. And she must be the one to fix it.

“Go on darling, suck me off.” Taehyung murmured bringing his fingers to her chin for a moment, tilting her face up and then letting go.

“Yes, sir.” Y/N whispered before taking him into her mouth fully, too hasty and needy to tease him at that point. She flattened her tongue against the smooth skin of his cock, lathering it with her saliva and tasting the salty tang of his precum. As her mouth grew full, she took him as far as she could go, stopping before her gag reflex could hit her and then looking up at Taehyung.

“Fuck. You’re going to kill me with those eyes.” Taehyung grunted, biting his lip harshly and never taking his eyes off Y/N. The sight of her kneeling before him, her mouth full of his cock and her pretty eyes looking at him so innocently - it was too much. His hand raised above his head, gripping the top edge of the couch for support as his jaw slacked and eyes closed.

As he prepared to relax, his eyes snapped open when Y/N picked up speed suddenly and sucked him faster, bobbing her head up and down his length, using her hands to jerk him where she couldn’t take him into her mouth. His eyes threatened to close as hot pleasure shot through him, but he managed to keep them open and fixed them onto Y/N’s eyes. While she sucked him off, he could see the way her hands slid down her body, no doubt seeking for her own pleasure.

But Taehyung was having none of that.

“The only place your hands are allowed to be are on my cock. Understood babygirl?” He glared, and he was surprised that he managed to keep the tremble out of his voice.

Y/N let out something between a whine and a hum, making Taehyung’s eyes roll back into his head. Nevertheless, he felt her figure move and he knew she’d obeyed him.

Straining his eyes to open, he saw her holding her hands behind her back and sucking his cock like her life depended on it. He shifted his hand from his side to her hair, gripping the roots above her neck and momentarily pulling her off of his throbbing member.

“Use your words girl.” He growled, clutching onto her hair tighter and bringing her closer so the head of his cock touched her lips. Y/N let out a soft sigh at the pain, enjoying it more than she should.

“Yes, sir.” she gulped, and immediately Taehyung pushed her back onto him, using the grip on her hair to guide her downward till her nose brushed his skin. Y/N gagged and swallowed, and the sensation made Taehyung’s thighs clench in pleasure.

Y/N didn’t miss that, she kept swallowing and moaning, the soft vibrations of her mouth against his cock, making him climb higher and higher to the edge of his release. And when Taehyung felt her soft hands shift from behind her to massage his balls, his hips jerked and he knew he was close. With three long thrusts into her pretty mouth, Taehyung came with a loud grunt, shooting strings of white hot cum into Y/N’s mouth which she swallowed hungrily.

Taehyung laid there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths to normalise his thundering heart. He peeked open an eye to look at Y/N and groaned when he saw her sitting on her knees with her hands on her lap. So obedient.

He leaned forward and held her chin with his hands, tilting up her face and bringing it close to his. His cum glistened on her lips and the thin layer of sweat on her forehead made it look like her skin was glowing.

“That was a very nice apology, babygirl.” He cooed, pecking Y/N’s lips softly. With his thumb, he scooped up a drop of his cum that had dripped onto her chin and pushed it into her mouth, immediately feeling her tongue swirl around his finger.

“And that is forgiveness.” He muttered, cupping her neck and pressing his lips to hers, swiping his tongue against the soft flesh and tasting himself. For Taehyung, it had all been a plan to get attention, and he got more than he had asked for, but if Y/N couldn’t get her release then there was no point.

Y/N felt Taehyung’s hands slowly slide down her skin, coming to rest at her hips where he held her tight. As she deepened the kiss and pushed her tongue into his mouth, he pulled her up and placed her onto his thighs, his cock slipping against the thin material of her shorts.

Her mouth tipped open against his, and she pressed herself onto him, grinding up and down while Taehyung nipped at her skin. When Taehyung cupped her between her thighs she let out a strangled gasp. The sound had woken something primal in Taehyung and he growled against her skin, biting down on the skin above her breast.

It had been so long since they’d done anything together, so long since Y/N had touched herself, that she knew she wouldn’t be able to last long. Taehyung would get his hands on her clit and she’d fall apart and that’s exactly what she needed. More than she had imagined.

Stripping off their clothes was a hasty blur, their mouths never leaving each other’s skin, kissing, nipping, biting, licking and sucking. Taehyung’s hands slid down to Y/N’s now bare heat, groaning at how slick and wet Y/N was.

“You didn’t want to say no to me, did you babygirl? Look at how wet you are.” He murmured, pressing and circling his thumb on her clit making her whimper. She whimpered helplessly when he pushed one long finger into her making her cling to him for support. When his finger curled inside her, she felt a familiar knot of pleasure and she blushed, embarrassed that she was going to come as fast as the time she’d lost her virginity. Too damn fast. She hid her face in the crook of Taehyung’s shoulder, biting down on the tanned skin as his fingers pushed her towards the edge relentlessly.

As Taehyung continued finger fucking her, his mouth was occupied with her breasts, sucking them and littering the skin with deep purple marks.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my fingers. Fuck.” He rasped, his teeth pulling at her pebbled nipple and Y/N came all over his fingers, letting out a loud cry and clutching tighter onto his shoulders.

Y/N relaxed against Taehyung’s shoulders, sucking deep breaths to compensate for all the breath Taehyung had knocked out of her with his talented fingers. Taehyung kept his eyes on her heat, pulling his fingers out of her and dragging his tongue over them with a loud a moan.

“So sweet. I missed this.” Taehyung said softly, his eyes closing to savour her taste on his tongue, licking his fingers in a manner to leave no drop untasted.

Just when Y/N had opened her mouth to speak, she jolted in surprise when Taehyung’s cock slid into her, stretching her walls as he reached all the way till he bottomed out. His eyes slowly turned to her, hooded with lust and a glint in his eye that she knew all too well.

This is payback for surprising me earlier.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re squeezing me.” Taehyung groaned, and Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut. She couldn’t comprehend words at that moment, her tongue tied with being sensitive and the way Taehyung was rocking his hips into hers.

“You’re still on birth control right?” Taheyung asked through gritted teeth, struggling to pause his movements before his mind spiraled out of control.

“Yes, just please, Tae-” Y/N whined, unable to finish her sentence as Taehyung pulled out and thrust into her. Sitting flush on his lap, Y/N could feel the length of his cock reach into her deeper than ever. With the little energy she had, she raised her hips and pushed herself back onto him at the exact moment that Taehyung thrust upwards.

“Tae!” she moaned, biting her lip so hard she drew blood, a hand coming up to squeeze her breast as the other clutched onto Taehyung’s thigh to make sure she wouldn’t fall off. Taehyung didn’t give her a second to breathe, setting a rhythm, driving deeper and harder into her each time. She knew it was all the built up tension over a month of inactivity and she wasn’t complaining even when her body shook with over stimulation.

Y/N eventually leaned into him, letting him guide her the way he wanted and she loved it. Gripping the soft flesh of her ass he made her ride him, driving her up and down on his cock and getting high on the sounds of their skins slapping together and the way Y/N’s tits bounced right in front of his face.

Despite her usual vocal self, Y/N felt her voice disappear, every word she tried to form dispersing into mewls and whimpers.

Touch me there. She tried to tell him, a moan and a curse leaving her mouth instead, making her frustrated with the building tension. She moved her hand in search of Taehyung’s, sighing almost immediately when his fingers were on her on her clit, rubbing and pinching the bundle of nerves.

Y/N’s orgasm crashed through her with high pitched moan, shattering any coherent sense left in her and numbing her senses where the only thing she felt was the hot seed that Taehyung had shot inside her, his groans muffled by the heavy daze of her mind. It was too much to handle.

“We’re out of practise.” She managed to whisper finally, her voice hoarse and tired. Taehyung chuckled at that, watching Y/N’s chest heave with every breath and syncing it to his own breathing. His thumb rubbed soothing circles onto her skin and he pressed a chaste kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Let’s get you cleaned up baby.” Taehyung murmured, softly carding his hands through Y/N’s hair. All the exhaustion she had been feeling caught up to her, what with the tension of qualifying her exams, of meeting everyone’s expectations and the intense overwhelming pleasure she had just experienced.

Her lids dropped slowly, the only thing keeping her awake being the soft brush of cloth against her skin which she assumed was Taehyung cleaning her up. When her back hit the soft mattress and Taehyung’s warmth pressed against her skin, she could barely keep herself from crashing into sleep.

“Sleep Y/N.” Taehyung whispered against her hair, kissing her temple softly and pulling her to him. “Stop making me worry all the time. And don’t you worry either. You’ll do great. And you’ll make us all proud.” He finished, pressing more kisses against her hair and pulling her closer into his chest.

“I love you.”

With those words of reassurance, Y/N smiled just before she drifted off to sleep.

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