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justapurrcat · 2 years

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Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!hiking guide!reader

Synopsys: Finally free after a particularly demanding project, Tom is looking forward to enjoying a well deserved holiday of sweet idleness… until a local hiking guide catches his attention, throwing all his purposes out of the window.

Word Count: 10.277k

Warnings: English not being my first language, disgusting fluff, a pinch of angst because it’s me, shameless love at first sight, an easter egg maybe, Tom being stupid~

Group Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: I’m super late with this one, but here it is, my work for @tshwritersnet’s summer writing challenge! While I’m not the biggest fan of how the result turned out, I had a lot of fun writing this (what can I say? I thoroughly enjoy having my leading men, especially Tom, do foolish things in the name of love...) and I really hope you will like it! 💜 please, consider letting me know what you think, feedback is always greatly appreciated! 💜

After leaving for college, coming back here for your summer holidays had become a religion for you, and even after so many years, the Bed and Breakfast owned by your uncles still remained one of your favourite places, with a special mention to its garden: you practically considered it the ‘symbol’ of your childhood, given all the time you had spent playing in there, waiting for your parents to come home in the evening.

It wasn’t a grand or highly renowned one, but it was beautiful and the same could be said about the building itself. It was a quite ancient edifice, no one would’ve given it the light of the day on a first look, but everyone fell in love with it the second they walked through the door.

The familiar rich scent of roses and jasmine, the very same ones your aunt had planted with your help, blended perfectly with the citrus aroma of the trees thriving in the backyard. It was so intense and captivating you could smell it from the outside, your heart growing at least two sizes because of that.

You were home.

And you were in a good mood, your heart still on cloud nine after having convinced itself you had met the love of your life on that very same day. Granted, not knowing his name nor how to find him again might’ve been quite a substantial hurdle – in hindsight, getting hit by Cupid’s arrow had made you kinda stupid –, but you didn’t want to think of bad things now: this was a small place, you could get lucky again��

But you were digressing.

“Hey, old man!”, you greeted cheerfully, bursting into the hall with a toothy smile and open arms, ready to crack your poor victim uncle’s bones with one of your devastating bear hugs, just like you had done with your aunt. It was the bare minimum after not seeing them for so long.

But your excitement died as soon as you took in the scene in front of you: no less than six strangers and a blue Staffy, most certainly a family, standing right by the reception desk, each one of them interrupting their current actions to turn their heads in your direction all at once, a surprised – which was an euphemism – look on their faces.

“Oh…”, was all you could let out, your palms beginning to sweat like crazy.

They had to be a last minute arrival, and you were pretty sure they hadn’t even booked their stay, since your aunt had reassured you that you were not going to bother, since there were no planned check-ins for the rest of the day. Which was the reason behind your rather informal – now turned ridiculous – entrance…

And then, of course, there was your uncle, the only one who didn’t bat an eyelash, too happy to see the niece he loved like a daughter to care. “Kiddo!”, he exclaimed, waving his hand with enthusiasm, and you thanked your good star that he didn’t call you ‘frog’ the way he did when you were a prepubescent girl who read too many W.I.T.C.H. comics.

“Come over”, he gestured for you to get closer, then returned his attention to his guests, quickly apologising for the abrupt interruption.

They all graciously reassured him, the older man – the father, you assumed – even making a joke on how hard to deal with young adults could be. Not exactly your kind of humour, to be honest, but so be it: you weren’t in the right state of mind to pay the due amount of attention to it.

Also because, in addition to all that was going on in your mind, you had also recognized a certain face among that group.

It was the cute guy you had met at the beach only a few hours earlier, those big soft brown eyes and the cute unruly curl falling back onto his forehead forever engraved in the back of your mind making it impossible to forget about him.

To be fair, you also remembered the impressively sharp jawline and his insanely gorgeous hands, with long fingers you would’ve loved to fit a glove, but those were way less romantic details to mention when ranting to your best friend about an idiotic circumstance of love at first sight, in which chatting with him for only a few minutes had felt like knowing him all your life.

Oh shit, from frying pan into the fire…

“I’m sorry…”, you gulped, quickly looking for an excuse to vanish as soon as humanly possible. You had been wishing to meet him again and that was what Fate had planned for you? You refused to believe it.

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can come back later–”

“It’s alright, dear”, the red-haired woman kindly smiled at you, and despite your previous gaffe, it was a nice gesture that didn’t appear as if she was doing it out of pity. It was a simple thing, but at least it reduced your discomfort a little.

You returned her smile, trying to figure out why she looked kinda familiar as well, even though you were pretty sure you had only met her son… in fact, all of the family (dog included, of course) was giving you that unusual vibe. The cute guy himself had given you that unusual vibe on that very same morning…

“y/n is my niece”, your uncle announced proudly, throwing an arm around your shoulders when you finally reached the desk.

You opted for a simple bow of the head as a silent way to say hello, not really wanting to worsen the situation. You had been lucky, better not to push it.

“Enjoying your holidays, young lady?”, the older man asked you and the faint hope you had of ceasing to be the object of the conversation turned to dust in front of your eyes. Because if you knew your uncle well enough…

“Not really”, he chipped in, jumping at the occasion to promote you. You loved him, you really did, and you understood he was doing it for your own good, but sometimes he really couldn’t read the room…

“Apparently, keeping her nose stuck in books for almost an entire year isn’t enough”, he continued. “She has to spend her summer getting lost in the woods.”

“I’m a hiking guide”, you rushed to explain, understanding your uncle’s intentions: he had purposely formulated a weird sentence just so that he could get you to talk and clear things up. Typical of that side of the family. “It’s my summer job.”

You were trying your best not to look directly at him, but your willpower seemed to keep failing you every once in a while: as a consequence, you didn’t miss the way his eyes went wide and his head snapped up, the curls bouncing adorably, when you mentioned your seasonal activity.

“We tried to convince her to work here with us: she’s great with clients, but it would’ve been a waste”, your uncle added, the slight regret in his tone mixing with pride. “These places need a good guide and she knows them like the back of her hand”, he announced, patting right between your shoulder blades and almost taking your breath away. For a not-so-young-anymore man, he was still quite strong.

“Authentic autochthonous blood here.”

You elbowed him in the ribs as an affectionate little revenge, your interactions with him and the surprisingly interested looks of the numerous family easing your pressure: maybe they weren’t thinking of your stupid entrance anymore.

“What can I say? I learned from the best”, you replied, not wanting to take all the credit for it, since he had literally taught you everything you knew.

“That’s music for my ears!”

Your head turned, following the direction of that voice, the movement way faster than you would’ve wanted it to be.

The guy you had met at the beach stared back at you, carelessly pushing one of his brothers aside to take a few steps forward. “I’ve literally been pestering my entire family to come here for that”, he said, the statement earning him a few perplexed blinks and tilts of the head from the rest of his family.

Not that you noticed, of course, far too gone in the hypnotizing fantasy his soothing voice elicited in your mind. Fuck, were you really that gullible?

Tom, on the other hand, noticed each single one of them.

“What?”, Harry questioned, arching an eyebrow. “Hiking?”

“Didn’t you say th–”

But Sam’s sentence was brutally cut off by an overly enthusiastic Tom. “That I’m dying to hit those paths”, the eldest declared firmly, his chirpy tone releasing a secret threatening aura in its echo. To anyone but you, of course. “I can’t wait. I love hiking!”

That wasn’t a lie: Tom loved being active and spending time outdoors, even better if immersed in nature.

However, he had just finished working on a pretty intense project that had taken a huge physical toll on him: the role had required him to lose quite a lot of weight and to look lean, almost fragile he would have dared to say, so he had been following a strict diet and significantly reduced his gym time.

And ever since he had set foot back home, he had been pestering his entire family – that part was painfully true. Only not about hiking. Hell, he didn’t even know the place they were going to was famous for its hiking paths up until now.

The only request he had made while they were still choosing where to go, was ‘a quiet, silent, private place, so preferably a small one, thank you very much’. He had barely paid any attention to Harry’s announcement regarding having found ‘the perfect place’.

“It has mountains, and the sea, and it’s quiet and then there are hiking paths and there’s a small Bed & Breakfast that might be just right for us, though I suggest not booking in advance, so our presence there doesn’t get leaked even before we get there or some shit like that…”

Tom had mindlessly hummed his approval, then stopped listening to him after ‘quiet’, the only word he really wanted to hear, completely missing the part that would’ve caused his healthier and much more energetic self to freak out from excitement.

For the last couple of days, his favourite topic had actually been how he would’ve spent this whole vacation doing absolutely nothing, sleeping in his bed, sleeping on the sand, sleeping on pool rafts, even sleeping on the flight to get there, which of course he had done.

That was what he had been pestering his family about, because Tom craved sleep. The dark bags under his eyes, his sagging shoulders and the lack of strength in his movements could testify it.

He hadn’t even resumed working out, a well deserved period of immaculate rest being all he could think of, so it was needless to say that he wasn’t prepared to walk in the slightest, let alone to hike.

But this was Fate reaching out, serving him the perfect occasion on a silver plate and how could Tom refuse it?

The smile you gave him felt like a thousand fireflies – not butterflies, fireflies – got released in Tom’s chest, filling it with such warmth and light it almost brought tears to his eyes. He was so whipped he couldn’t even tell himself to get his shit together.

While he was struggling not to pat his own shoulder for the brilliant idea his brain had just come up with, you were undergoing a similar type of struggle, the only difference consisting in the reason moving it: you needed to be serious, to look professional and reliable, while all you wanted to do was jump up and down for the entire hall giggling like a little kid and revelling in your unexpected luck.

After that, you were no longer going to complain about Fate’s plans regarding your sentimental life.

You cleared your throat and raised your chin, taking a step towards him. “Well you’ve found the right person, Sir”, you said, holding out your hand to him, the confidence in the gesture masking the fact that you were hoping it wouldn’t get sweaty.

The cute boy from the beach – he was so pretty you might’ve believed he was a merman, your mind briefly fleeting back to that local tale about a girl finding her soulmate to be no less than the King of the Ocean – smiled back at you, reaching out and squeezing your hand with no hesitation.

“Tom”, he introduced himself. “Please, call me Tom, y/n.”

Your name on his lips, his fingers touching yours, the hint of wink he sent your way… it was too much to handle.

As soon as your hands parted, your left one came up to your lobe, pretending to fix something about your earring, while in reality, you were just playing with it. It was an old habit of yours you had never found the way to get rid off.

From the outside, it looked like nothing but a casual mannerism, but you knew it was your heart’s personal method of letting your brain know that you were fucked.

Tom, you repeated it in your mind, looking forward to whispering it in the dim-light of your bedroom, later that evening, lying on that tiny mattress with your hand right above your heart.

Tom…

You could already picture that, practically witnessing yourself connecting those letters to every fibre of the muscle, tailoring its beat to that single syllable, while surrounded by flowers scent and inebriated on the enchanting afterglow his presence had gently laid upon you like it was a golden veil.

… and okay, to be completely honest, there might have been some room left to slip three fingers into your panties.

And honestly, no one could’ve blamed you for it. Not when he was standing there, with that charming smile, those dimples and that accent and–

Wait a second.

… and that was when it clicked.

Holy fucking shit, you were talking to Tom Holland.

“This is by far the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done.”

Tom rolled his eyes at Harry’s sentence, deeply offended at his brother’s lack of faith in his brilliant strategy. “Wow, thanks for the support.”

“I beg to differ”, Sam spoke up as he lazily pushed the shopping cart to keep up with the others. Tom was the one who had dragged them there, but of course, he had to be the one doing all the work. Of course. Because his movie star brother needed to buy things, but was ‘too tired’. Of course.

“See?”, Tom gloated, satisfied that he could rub it in Harry’s face. “That’s how a supportive brother’s supposed to act!”

Too bad this time he hadn’t taken into consideration that Sam might have been his brother, but he remained Harry’s twin, after all…

“He hasn’t done it yet”, Sam pointed out. “So, I would say this is the most idiotic decision he’s ever made.”

Tom’s smirk fell from his face all at once, like the corners of his mouth had been hanging by thin threads that his brother’s betrayal had brutally cut off. The other spawn of the Devil’s silent, yet eloquent bragging gaze added insult to injury.

Yeah, those two were definitely made of the exact same wicked, dreamless, heartless substance. So much for sibling’s love and brotherhood.

“Okay, fuck off. The both of you”, he spat, turning his back to them.

“It’s not our fault you’re a div”, Harry said simply.

“That’s it”, Tom raised his voice, as if that could silence him, at least in his mind. “I’m done listening to you.”

All he got in response was a scoff and a dry: “As if you ever bothered to…”

“And look how good that turned out to be for me”, Tom quipped back. “I’m famous, rich, and hot.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t forget modest.”

“Keep that attitude and I’m firing you.”

“Fine”, Harry agreed smugly. “Good luck figuring out which foot goes first when walking.”

“The one that will be shoved up your ass if you don’t quit it.”

Before Harry could reply and somehow make it even worse, Sam decided that it was time to stop making fun of the idiot his brother and actually try to knock some sense into that thick head of his. “Tom”, he intervened, trying to make clear that he was abandoning every hostility. “Come on, mate, you’ve met this girl once–”

“Twice”, Tom corrected him as if he had just heard an unspeakable profanity and Sam had to fight many urges all at once: resorting to annihilating sarcasm was on top of the list, but slapping his brother senseless was a close second.

“Okay, twice, if we count this morning”, he conceded, struggling to sound and appear calm: dealing with a stupid love-sick – had he mentioned insanely stupid? – full-grown adult while coming from a family which wasn’t exactly known for being slow to anger was exhausting. And he wasn’t even the eldest.

I’m too young for this shit.

“But still”, he tried to reason with him. “Don’t you think this is a little too much?”

Tom stopped abruptly and turned around, a terrifying determination burning in his eyes. “Nothing is too much when it’s about true love.”

Like he hadn’t even heard that, Harry ignored him completely: he had already made the wise choice of no longer being involved in this. He was on vacation, too, for fuck’s sake!

Sam wasn’t of the same opinion, his jaw dropping to the floor, his heart skipping a beat and not in the good way. “Oh my–”, he wheezed, running a nervous hand through his locks and tugging at them, and regretting not joining – more like running away with – Paddy as soon as he had announced he would go to the beach. “Tom, you don’t even know her!”

That didn’t impact Tom’s judgement in the slightest, a dreamy smile making its way to his lips, something that would’ve made his entire fandom go over-the-moon crazy, but that only scared the shit out of Sam.

“I have the rest of my life to find out.”

“And what if she doesn’t like you?”, Sam argued. “You know relationship aren’t made by just one person, right? It could happen.”

A few creases formed on Tom’s forehead, his smile giving way to a focused expression, indicating that, as much as he liked basking in the fantasy of you keeping him forever, he was actually taking that hypothesis into consideration.

“Then I know I’m never gonna love again”, he concluded after a while.

No, Sam wasn’t just scared, he was horrified. He stood there, watching Tom walk away, unable to take another step, as if his soles of the shoes had been glued to the floor. Until Harry passed by him with the cart.

“That was from Big Fish”, was all his twin muttered with a shrug of his shoulders, when he looked at him in a silent cry for help. “The ‘rest of his life’ bit, I mean”, he explained. “He wants to act like this crazy-for-love hero and he’s not even original…”

Sam looked at Tom, then again back at Harry, a disheartened expression on his face. “Have you ever seen him like this?”

“Frankly, I hoped I’d never have to.”

“I’m serious”, Sam insisted. “I’m worried.”

“And I’m disgusted”, Harry said in a plain tone, picking up an item and examining it, seeming totally detached from what was going on in a way that made Sam feel torn between shock and envy.

“Right”, Tom spoke up, catching his brothers’ attention. “Here we are.”

Sam gulped, afraid to ask what ‘here’ implied, but in the end he found the courage to do it. What could be wrong in a glimpse of hope? “What are we looking for?”

“Hiking equipment.”

“I give up.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckingshit.

If someone had seen him – and thank God they didn’t, because it was so early that basically no one seemed to be around yet –, they would’ve thought Tom was running for his life. Which, at least in his perspective, was nothing less than the absolute truth.

He was almost going to be late. This was supposed to be the most perfect day, the date of a lifetime, the start of a completely new era and he was almost fucking going to be fucking late. Fuck.

And on top of that, Tom felt like he had never committed so many stupid mistakes one after the other. That was a new kind of sad record.

Only the night before, he was convinced he had prepared every single detail to perfection: brand new hiking shoes, comfortable clothes, sunglasses, his beloved Knockemstiff cap – for good luck –, sunscreen… still, he had somehow found the way to mess up.

The sleeping time had been so little he wondered if he had slept at all, and he was pretty sure the answer was no, since he couldn’t remember doing anything else that wasn’t daydreaming of the upcoming encounter. And of you, of course. Which, while in the moment sounded indeed very tempting, had turned out to be an unfortunate choice.

Said unfortunate choice had sent him into a spiral of desperation the second he had discovered those dark bags under his eyes: it had taken him an urgent FaceTime call with Rachael – with a lot of patience on her part, despite the ungodly hour –, almost thirty minutes and a good amount of concealer to finally stop looking like a bunch of bullies had ganged up upon him.

But as soon as he had fixed that problem, another one had come up: the time to get ready was significantly less than he had originally planned, and everything had been rushed, if not straight up forgotten.

So now he was going to face a hiking trip in the sun without a hat, sunscreen, nor glasses, having skipped breakfast, and with shoes that would’ve been the ideal, but were still in their stupid full break-in period.

The only positive thing was that his backpack was very light… the sole reason behind it being that half of the stuff that should’ve been there wasn’t.

His muscles were begging for mercy, his lungs quite not so figuratively on fire, like every breath was filling them with unbearably scorching air. But still, he didn’t slow down, pushing his body to its limit.

No. No, he couldn’t fuck this up.

Then he saw it: a cute lilac bucket hat was the first detail that brought your figure into view and his heart swelled inside his chest. You had your back turned to him, but Tom knew it was you even before he got to see your face, and not just because you had previously made plans to meet up at that time and place.

He didn’t know how to explain it, but he just knew from that small detail. Something foreign, yet inexplicably familiar – was he getting a Peter tingle in real life? Was this the sign that he had been playing Spider-Man for too long he was letting it consume his existence? –, was somehow making him aware of your presence in a way that he had never experienced before, as if you had been an extension of his soul, or more appropriately, he had been one of yours.

… or maybe he was just projecting because he was so worn out he was getting delirious. That could’ve been a valid explanation.

His crazy run gradually died out, morphing into a more relaxed walk: he had made it, he had got there on time, now he just needed to act like he had everything under control. Like he hadn’t been on the verge of a panic attack up until a few seconds earlier.

Tom quickly fished his water bottle and some tissues out of his backpack, using them to freshen up a bit before approaching you. It was hot, and he was going to get sweaty anyways, but first impressions did matter.

He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times as a final touch, then, after deciding that it could do, he inhaled deeply – he definitely needed it – and cleared his throat.

“Hey!”

You promptly turned around and if the word ‘radiant’ had been a person, your photo would’ve been slapped under the term definition on the encyclopaedia.

“Hey there!”, you waved at him, your heart bouncing happily like a kid having the time of their life on a trampoline. “You okay?”, you asked as he got closer, the slight red flush on his cheeks not going completely unnoticed by your eyes, despite the bubble pink filter clouding them.

“I’m great!”, Tom nodded as convincingly as he could – acting classes, baby – then rapidly looked for something else, a different topic to occupy your attention with. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Oh no, it’s fine”, you reassured him with a light shake of your head. “I just got here.” That one was a blatant lie, since you had arrived there almost half an hour in advance.

You wouldn’t have considered punctuality to be one of your strong suits, but anxiety usually compensated it quite well and that was exactly what had happened, with you waking up on your own thirty minutes before the alarm.

There was no need for Tom to know that, though.

“So… ready?”

“I was born ready, darling”, he confirmed, subtly waggling his unruly eyebrow at you and your stomach joined your heart on that carousel.

“Good, loving the spirit.” And loving that cute brow. “Wait…”, you paused, detecting the absence of something from his attire. “Where’s your hat?”

“My hat?”, Tom echoed you, transforming the initial gesture of touching his head into a less suspicious scratch of the back of his neck. “Oh… I didn’t bring one.”

“You wanna go back and get it? Or we can stop and buy one?”, you offered. “They sell them right–”

“No”, Tom cut you off, maybe a little more harshly than he wanted to. “Nonono, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”, you made another attempt, not wanting to put him at risk. A hat was one of the first things you always suggested to bring and you distinctly remembered doing the same while giving him instructions. It worried you a bit that he hadn’t followed your advice. “The sun is quite strong today.”

“It’s okay, darling, really”, Tom insisted, trying to convince both you and his mind. He couldn’t have you think of him as an idiot who kept forgetting stuff right and left. Which he was, by the way, but he absolutely couldn’t let that happen. That was when he decided to go all the way with it.

“Hats have been kinda bothering me, lately.” His heart broke a little, his beloved collection of hats of any sort wincing in pain because of that betrayal. But they would have to endure it, he decided: in case the room in his heart hadn’t been enough for you, he would’ve made more in his closet.

“So, don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh… okay.” You weren’t exactly persuaded, but that was your word against his, and you didn’t wanna come off as overbearing. “Well, as long as you wore sunscreen, you won’t have any problems”, you informed him, positive to have ended that exchange on a good note. “Shall we go?”

Tom remained frozen for a few seconds, his lips getting thinner and turning upwards as his mind travelled back to the brand new bottle of sunscreen sitting still unopened on his nightstand.

Then he finally snapped out of it. “Lead the way, darling.”

Surely, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

It was the absolute fucking worst and he wanted to die.

His brother’s voice kept replaying in his mind, a bunch of ‘This is suicide, and not even that figuratively’ and ‘I told you so, idiot’ fighting for dominance carrying the banner of regret and shame.

If his morning tour-the-force had been a challenge for his body – Harry had teased him about contacting Vogue and proposing a the idea of a ‘GRWM while I’m in a Rush’ video –, this hike was straight up annihilating it, to the point he started to think he would disintegrate by the end of it, turning to dust and leaving no trace behind.

Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was pretty sure his feet would start bleeding anytime soon.

The only easy part about that pretence had been interacting with you: with every passing minute he felt himself falling harder and harder. From the outside, no one would’ve been able to tell that the two of you weren’t close friends, but instead two strangers spending time together (alone) only for the second time.

Chatting with you felt as natural as breathing and that did nothing but improve his first impressions, confirming you were it for him. You had to be.

And he would’ve loved to talk with you even more – he didn’t really know if that could be physically possible, but whatever –, hadn’t it been for his current shortness of breath.

Thankfully, once you reached a lovely little meadow – ‘careful, there are fairies here’ –, you proposed a water break and he gladly accepted. Playing it off as if he considered it a reasonable idea and not a desperately needed lifesaving miracle, ça va sans dire.

So you used the remaining of a fallen tree as a bench, sitting a tad closer than necessary and facing each other, Tom with his feet on each side of the trunk and you with your legs crossed.

You looked nothing short of adorable, slightly tired, but in a satisfied way and completely at ease, your inner dryad spirit thriving now that you were in your element.

“Everything good?”, you checked in on him.

Absolutely not, but you’re worth it.

“Fantastic, darling.”

And just right after he said it, his water ran out after two sips. And he cursed himself for the umpteenth time because he didn’t have a another one.

“Uhm…” You bit the inside of your cheek, internally debating whether you should say what you wanted to say or drop it, afraid he might be weirded out by it. “Y-you want some of mine?”

Tom blinked at you in total disbelief, his gaze traveling from your eyes, to the opened bottle you were shyly handing him, to your lips and starting all over again. Eyes, bottle, lips, eyes, bottle, lips, eyes, bottle, lips…

Were you aware this was an indirect kiss?

His stomach did an Olympic somersault, pushing him down a spiral he was convinced he had finally abandoned: he felt like a bloody inexperienced teenager all over again. If sharing a bottle with you had such effect on him, how could he even fathom the idea of locking lips with you?

He was full of hope and courage up until a few seconds before, but where were they now that he needed them the most? Were they going to forsake him again at the crucial moment?

Unbeknownst to him, you were freaking out just the same, if not even more, your – conveniently back to a fifteen-year-old status – mind having the time of its life on the sappiest rom-com ride you could think of.

It’s an indirect kiss, it’s an indirect kiss, holy shit it’s an indirect kiss.

A seducing little voice came up from the depths of your brain, suggesting you to just go with it, skip the indirect stage and be as direct as you could. You silenced it, heart shrinking in the process.

“I can’t”, he refused, despite every fibre in his body yearning for it. “How are you going to–”

“I’m doing fine, and we can fill them up again later”, you countered, dissipating his doubts. “There’s also a natural spring where we are going.”

Tom gulped. “A-are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said a thing if I wasn’t.” That sweet, kind determination and the encouraging smile you shot him destroyed all his defences, effectively making him cave. The detail that he was dying of thirst was yet another factor that played in your favour.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

He brought the bottle to his lips with such reverence he could’ve been mistaken for a pilgrim drinking holy water from a sacred relic. It was strange, but also cute, the instinct of pinching his cheeks and kissing him all over his face getting harder to be fought.

To distract yourself, you took a look around like you knew precisely what to search for. In fact, you did: whenever you escorted people on that path, the meadow never failed to be one of your stops, the view from there being one of your absolute favourites.

“See that spot over there?”, you extended your arm and Tom’s eyes followed the direction of your finger pointing at the top of a hill, where the ivy-covered rests of an ancient, majestic building towered over the valley.

“Yeah.”

“It’s an old manor”, you told him, turning back towards him and dropping your hand. “Well… what remains of it. But it’s really beautiful, one of the gems of this place. There’s even an old legend about it.”

Tom tilted his head to the side, curiosity causing his eyebrows to arch and his eyes to go round.

Just like a little puppy.

“What’s it about?”, he asked, genuinely interested. During the brief time the two of you had spent together, he had discovered that he liked listening to you. More specifically, he deeply enjoyed how invested you could get when talking about something you loved.

He could only wish one day you would talk about him in the same way…

“A doomed love”, you murmured with a wistfully fond tone, as if a wave of inexplicable nostalgia was washing over you.

“Many centuries ago, that castle was built to celebrate the union of two old families through marriage”, you began your tale just the way your aunt always did. “It was a lucky match, and, most importantly, it wasn’t forced upon them, which was the exception in times like those. The families thought of it only after they noticed how fond the kids were of each other. And took the decision when they witnessed that fondness grow into love.”

Tom just nodded along, getting lost in the new memories evoked by the sound of your voice. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the suggestion, maybe you were just particularly good at enrapturing people with your stories, but your words came to life in his mind.

You were laughing, dragging him by the hand, purple silk floating around you like you were a flower as you ran down a hall that seemed never-ending.

He begged you to slow down, and in all response you just teased him, accusing him of getting old.

Next thing he knew, he had you backed up against a wall, your hands in his hair as his lips devoured yours, only stopping to implore you to accept him as your husband.

“Promise me”, he heard himself say. “Promise me you’ll marry me.”

“I already have, My Lord”, you reminded him, bumping his nose with yours.

“Promise me again.”

“Only if you promise me first.”

“They should’ve lived there after getting married… but, right on the day of the wedding, he got called to war. Some say it was because the king wanted him dead, so that he could have his young bride all to himself. He was a disgusting little man, and it seems he did shit like that quite often.”

Your narrowed eyes and the hard line of your mouth conveyed clearly how you felt regarding that particular character – or person – and Tom couldn’t help but to agree with that sentiment, anger bubbling up in his stomach for that injustice like he had been the one wronged by that king.

He could see them clear as day: the tears staining your immaculate white dress while his own were burning in his throat…

The castle was already surrounded by soldiers who, officially, were there to escort him, but in fact, had to make sure he wouldn’t escape. And he had to leave at first light.

There was nothing the two of you could do.

“Would you run away with me?”, you sobbed.

“After the ceremony, the couple disappeared from everyone’s sight. Later that night, a maid found them, naked and cuddled up under the willow they had planted together when they were kids. They had taken those few hours for themselves, making love and exchanging wows…”

You murmured that last part like it was something dear and intimate to you and it sounded so similar to the plea you whispered in his ears.

“Please, come back to me…”

It was the first time he had touched you, and he knew all too well it was also going to be the last. Deep down, you knew, too.

“I will”, he mumbled on your lips. “I will.”

Only not in that life. It was painfully clear that he was going to meet his demise on the battlefield, and not at the hands of a feared enemy.

“It’s time to go, my love…”

“And then, he had to leave at dawn. Not even a week later, he died, after getting injured during battle.” Just like it had sent him in the past, now your voice brought Tom back to the present, pulling him away from the flash of a stabbing pain erupting in his chest, like someone had just…

“The girl refused all of the king's gifts and resisted all his lures, and eventually retired to a nunnery, where he couldn’t touch her. He broke his neck trying to climb up to her window.” You couldn’t hold back a little devilish smirk while saying that.

Tom unconsciously mirrored you: the old fucker had gotten what he deserved.

“But, even if they were miles away, they both expressed the same last wish: to be buried there under their tree, so that they could reunite in the afterlife”, you concluded.

“That’s…” Tom wanted to say something deep and meaningful, but nothing came to his mind other than a single adjective. “… sad.” He had no other way to say it, and frankly, he saw no point in forcing himself to come up with something different. Yes, it was a simple word, and it was enough.

“It is…”, you confirmed with a sigh. “There’s a silver lining to it, though.”

Tom hardly imagined how such a miserable story could have a silver lining, but that didn’t reduce his interest. And mentioning it had brought hope back into your eyes, so it had to be true.

“Legend has it that if a proposal takes place right under the willow, the wedding is gonna be an extremely happy one. Because the ghosts of the two lovers are gonna do everything in their power to protect the union they didn’t get to experience.”

That’s it, we’re definitely going there next.

“It sounds nice.” His own brain slapped the front of his head at how lame his response was. ‘Nice’. He had tried to control himself and his reactions so much it turned back against him.

Great job, Tom. Fucking great job.

“Yeah, that’s why my mom proposed to my dad there”, you confirmed, finally getting up and stretching your legs, preparing to walk again, fully reinvigorated by the hopeful ending that connected your family to that old tale.

Tom slowly felt all the blood abandoning his face: the pause had lasted so little and, by the looks of it, you seemed a bit too interested in that castle up on the hill. “And that’s where we’re going?”, he asked, trying to buy some extra time.

Had you changed your mind last minute? As much as he loved the idea of you guiding him to a super romantic place, he wasn’t entirely sure he could handle it right now.

He stood up as well, anxiously waiting for the verdict.

“Oh no”, you shook your head, the wonderful movement of your head giving Tom some life years back.

Thank God.

“We’re doing something easier today.”

Easier?, Tom thought, gaze falling to the ground as he scratched his nape. He really needed to get back on track with his training. Before his last project, he would’ve faced that path with his eyes closed.

“We’ll be back in the late afternoon, that would take the whole day and a night of camping.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you both nearly sighed in delight, the invitingly romantic scenario of sleeping next to each other under a sky full of stars slipping past your logic walls.

“But it can be our next adventure if you feel like it.”

“Are you implying you want me to propose to you, darling?”

His dashing, pearly-white smile caught you more off guard than needed: one second you were looking – more like gawking in pure adoration without an ounce of shame nor self-respect – at him, and the next one you were tripping over your own feet the way kittens did because their little legs were still too short.

Absolutely pathetic.

But Tom had no time for your self-deprecating thoughts and stupid metaphors, because the instant he saw you losing your balance, he bolted towards you – the sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through him enough to make him forget about his current suffering, at least for a few moments –, a hand encircling your arm and the other one gripping your waist, effectively stabilizing you.

You let out a gasp – whether it was for the scare, his prompt reaction, or the feeling of his big, strong hands on your skin, you thought it was less humiliating not to find out – then forced yourself to laugh to shake all of that off.

“Not my most professional moment, huh?” You spoke before he could, quickly jumping at the occasion to change the subject dominating your mind.

The ghost of his question to check if you were alright was still laying on his slightly parted lips, but you blatantly ignored it. “Guess I’m a little out of shape”, you cackled, while the embarrassment was eating you alive.

Then you realized he hadn’t let go of you yet, so you rapidly freed yourself from his hold, clearing your throat and mumbling an awkward ‘thank you’.

“Every time I return here, it takes me a couple of days to fully get back on track”, you explained, taking a couple steps back. But then you saw how that innocent joke could’ve been perceived as the truth.

“Just kidding, I promise”, you clarified. “You’re safe with me.”

You were expecting a dry remark, a polite tight-lipped smile that had the word ‘incompetent’ written all over it, or maybe even the request of going back and getting a refund… but none of that happened.

Tom lightly tilted his head to the side, his eyes watering a bit, just enough for the sunlight to make it look like they were precious obscure gems, the tenderness you met in them making you weak in the knees.

“I have no doubt I am.”

“Here we are”, you announced, turning with a joyous smile and widening your arms, proud of that place like you had been the one helping Mother Nature design it. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

You resumed your hike, both still a bit shaken by the unexpected feelings that break had carried along, but refusing to bring them up, the unspoken agreement making your shoulders lighter and your hearts heavier, granting you a short-term relief that was, by no doubt, destined to fester and degenerate into pure torment in the long run.

“Yeah…”

Amazing, indeed.

“This is where the legend wants the lovers to have shared their first kiss.”

This time, instead of Sam’s voice, Tom had Harry’s ringing in his ears: he had exposed his Big Fish quote and now – the irony – he was in a scenario that might’ve looked like it had just popped out of that film and incorporated into that wonderful panoramic spot, the daffodils spreading until the edge of the cliff, their bright colour a vivid contrast to the azure blue of the ocean.

The pics he had found online while organizing the perfect plan didn’t make it an ounce of justice. However, he had to give credit to his past self: it truly was the ideal place for a first kiss.

“Stunning.”

You giggled at his comment, and even found the courage to take his hand, guiding him towards the centre of the field.

Tom just followed your lead, adoration shining in his eyes, your fingers intertwined with his giving him a sense of completeness he hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe for literal centuries.

It might’ve sounded cheesy, but you looked like a fucking celestial vision. Tom had never been a religious zealot, and yet he could’ve sworn he had never been closer to an episode of mystical ecstasy.

“Stunning…”, he murmured breathlessly, and he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you, he truly meant it.

You stood there among golden flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze reminding him of little ladies in waiting attending to their queen. And then there was the ocean, glistening behind your lovely figure, its colour a perfect mirror of the clear sky above.

Tom could’ve sworn he had never seen anything or anyone that mesmerizing, that wild untouched scenery representing the perfect frame for the masterpiece that you were, the lilac hat making you stand out even more.

“You okay?”

It was weird: you were so close, and yet your voice sounded like it was coming from so far. But bloody hell, you were so pretty even with a concerned look on your face…

What on Earth could you be concerned about?

“Stunning…”, he repeated a third time in a faint voice, a dopey smile altering his features.

“Tom…” You let go of his hand, cupping his cheeks instead and he instantly melted into your touch.

Your heart sank to your stomach when you felt his skin burning against your palms. “I-I think you should sit down”, you stuttered, trying to think straight.

Fuck, he was not okay, how could you not have seen it?!

You grabbed him by the shoulders, needing to get a reaction out of him. “Do you want some water? I can go and get it…”, your voice broke, tears gathering in your eyes and getting caught in your lashes like pearls of dew. You were doing nothing to hold them back.

But he kept silent, his dark chocolate eyes staring at you, but slowly starting not to see you anymore.

“Tom?”

I’m back, my love…

The last thing he could register was your terrified scream of his name right before his body hit the ground like a bag of rocks.

“Tom!”

“Tom…”

“Tom? Oi, are you awake?”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, someone else was holding his hand, and he was lying on something soft that had every bone and muscle in his body sing joyous hymns.

Tom slowly blinked his eyes open, adjusting them to the light and taking in the surroundings of his room back at the B&B.

“He’s awake”, Paddy stated.

“Tom, darling”, his mother gasped, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Thank God…”

“Mom?”, he croaked out in a raspy voice. “W-where…” He knew where he was, so he probably needed to ask something different. “What…?”

“You… you fainted while you were hiking”, she informed him.

“What?”, he repeated, propping himself up on his elbows, two concerned Sam and Harry entering his field of view.

Nikki and Paddy wasted no time in helping him seat up, making sure he wouldn’t lose his balance and fixing his pillows, so that he could rest against them. His mother offered him a glass of water that he gratefully chugged down in less than five seconds. It didn’t help him much, but it was something.

Still processing what was going on – and it wasn’t easy with that pounding headache – Tom took a glance at the mirror hanging on the wall… and wished he hadn’t as soon as he did. The person staring back at him was his spitting image and at the same time, somehow appeared completely different.

The skin of his face and neck was an unhealthy shade of red, and no matter how much cream they had applied, it looked – and felt – like sandpaper, so dry that it was starting to peel on his nose. Not to mention the disastrous situation his hair was in, making him resemble an unkempt cat more than an actual human being.

Tom turned towards his family again – he could’ve sworn Paddy was there with them, but now he was nowhere to be seen… weird –, his brows furrowing interrogatively.

“H-how…?”

“Exhaustion because you were in no shape to do it?”, Sam spoke up before the others, his tone halfway between worried and mocking. “A fucked up sleep schedule you still have to fix? Sunstroke because you forgot to put a hat on and wear sunscreen, despite being pale as a ghost? I’d say you are spoiled for choice.”

Ghost…

“Where’s y/n?!”, he urged, feeling his whole body starting to tremble.

“In the hall, you moron.”, Sam scoffed. “You have her to thank for being here.”

You had saved him… at least that told him you were okay. That whatever he was going through had spared you.

“That poor girl…”, Nikki recalled, her voice laced with compassion and gratitude. “She called us and then carried you back so that your father and Harry could meet you halfway… she looked so scared.”

She carried me back?

Sam glared at Tom. “You probably gave her a belated heart attack.”

Harry couldn’t hold back a snort, managing to find humour even under such circumstances. “When they say aim for the heart…”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head.”

“Is he, now? That probably could’ve made him smarter.”

“Boys, please–”

“I have to go to her!”, Tom yelled all of a sudden, breaking the calm reigning in the room.

“Fuck no, you’re not.”

“Sam!”, Nikki hissed, fearing that an aggressive approach might make her eldest son even more uncooperative. “Tom, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, she tried to be the voice of reason. “You should rest–”

“No, I have to go and see y/n–”, Tom trailed off, and with a newly found vigour that surprised him first and then all the others, he discarded the covers and jumped off the bed, not even noticing that he was barefoot.

Dodging Harry, he stumbled upon the door, grabbing – or rather throwing all of his weight – onto the handle. He was ready to bolt down the corridor on his still wobbly legs, but the sudden appearance of you, standing right there in front of him, stopped him dead in his tracks.

“H-hey…”

You looked so small, so fragile and broken he felt his soul screaming at him to wrap his arms around you, hold you tight and never let you go.

“y/n…”

“Paddy must’ve told her.”

“I was wondering where he was…”

Not again. Don’t lose her again.

Two pairs of hands grabbed him just as his legs gave way, your terrified face slipping away from his vision while he almost sank into the floor.

“Holy shit!”, you jumped, immediately moving forward to do something. “Do you guys need help?”

“We can take it”, Sam grunted, struggling to handle his deadweight of a brother as him and Harry carried him back to the bed. “No worries.”

“Yeah, it’s fine”, Harry echoed.

You fumbled restlessly with the lilac hat in your hands, finding it hard to believe them without a doubt, Tom’s limp body digging a hole in your heart.

And it was all your fault…

Nikki stood up from her chair and came to your side, touching your shoulder. “It’s alright, my child, you’ve done enough”, she tried to calm you with a motherly tone. “Did you get some rest?”, she checked, gently guiding you inside the room.

You nodded absently, your eyes fixed on Tom who was recovering from his temporary faint, focusing om what was around him for the second time in less than five minutes.

He held his breath when he saw you and realised you were there, and that you were as real as he was.

This time, you didn’t greet him, remaining still as a statue.

“Uhm…” Hadn’t he already been the same colour of a lobster, Tom was sure he would’ve blushed violently, but now he couldn’t even tell the difference depending on how hot his skin felt, since it was constantly burning the way it usually did whenever he would get a fever. For that, he wasn’t going to complain: yes, he looked hideous, but at least his embarrassment wasn’t written all over his face, for once.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Nikki’s attentive gaze bounced back and forth between you and her son, eyes narrowing and lips pressing together to hide the hint of a smile.

Tom coyly turned to his family. “Could you guys give us a moment?”

Sam was about to question if that was appropriate, considering his state, but the silent look Nikki sent his way spoke volumes: ‘Don’t’.

So, they all nodded and quietly left the room without a protest. Only Harry felt the need to… well, be Harry.

“Don’t be fooled”, he warned you, fake-whispering. “He’s never this nice.”

Tom rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt, but chose not to comment on that, not letting his brother get to him.

“Please, have a seat”, he told you, gesturing weakly.

Much to his surprise – and he meant it in the best way possible – you made the bold decision to ignore the chair and instead sat on the bed, right next to him, your knuckles brushing against his, the soft noise amplified by the deafening silence.

You chewed down on your lip, then took a deep breath. “I know it might sound like a stupid question, but… how are you?”

“I’m good”, Tom nodded slowly, preferring to avoid any sharp movements. The effect of your presence was still stronger than his discomfort, though, a cheeky grin climbing its way up to his lips on its own account. “Not my best angle, I’m afraid, and I don’t have a lighting technician to make my face appear unbearably handsome, but I’m good.”

You didn’t laugh, your shoulders sagging and your head dropping between them.

“I don’t know how it…”, you babbled, your fingers torturing the hat. “How I couldn’t… fuck, I feel like an idiot.”

“What?” It was the third time he was asking the same question in less than five minutes: he really didn’t like that feeling. Just like he was appalled of hearing you say such things about yourself.

Why were you feeling like an idiot when he was the one who had originated that whole mess?

“I should’ve paid more attention, I should’ve noticed that something was off and that you weren’t okay.”

“I’m an actor, darling”, he sighed. “Deceiving people is in my nature.”

Oh…

So he didn’t like you.

“Yeah, and keeping them safe should be in mine”, you argued, voice breaking on the last syllable. “Fuck… I’m sorry.” A sob shook your chest and you let go of the hat to bury your face in your palms, feeling the waterworks were about to start. “I’m so fucking sorry, this was all my fault…”

“No, y/n, no!”, Tom exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders, preventing you from standing up like he knew you were about to do. In fact, in the heat of the moment he drew you even closer. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t even think about it”, he pleaded as your front brushed against his, your breaths mixing together. “I’m the one who made a mess and pretended everything was fine, you couldn’t have known! You saved me.”

“Still…”, you stubbornly objected, your hand resting onto his chest a not so convinced attempt to tone down his sudden burst of emotion. “I should’ve–”

“No, y/n, please, listen to me.” He cupped your wet cheeks, handling your face with the same sweet care you had used towards him right before the accident.

“I wasn’t in the physical condition to go for a hike. Before I met you, my plan was to sleep throughout the entire vacation. To give you the idea, those shoes I wore were brand new… I got them right for the occasion. And this morning I skipped breakfast, I forgot to put sunscreen on and left my hat and sunglasses at the hotel and I overslept and I was running late. And I refused to buy a new hat because I didn’t want you to think I’m an idiot who keeps forgetting his own stuff… not to mention that the reason I barely slept last night is because I kept daydreaming about today and how I had to do my best to impress you… this was all my fault, not yours.”

By the time he was done with his monologue, he was out of breath and, despite not having uttered a sound, the same could be said about you.

Your parted lips slightly distracted him for a second – maybe more than a second –, but then Tom came back to his senses and did the right thing, letting go of you. He didn’t really want to, but he had to.

“You…” After his revelation, your thoughts were running wild, so fast you couldn’t keep track of them all. “… you wanted to impress me?”

“Uhm… yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then pushed his hair out of his forehead, the rebel curl falling back into place just to spite him. “I wanted to get you to say ‘Oh, I can see myself going out with him’ or some shit like that.”

“… why?”

“Because I like you”, he answered candidly, leaving your lungs yearning for air.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we first met…”, Tom confessed, cringing immensely at having to call it a crush, but he didn’t have much choice, did he? It wasn’t like he could just go: ‘Oh yeah, our first date wasn’t even over and in my head we were already choosing the flowers for your wedding bouquet while I was getting lost in the daydream of a past life with you that would make us soulmates’… no, that wasn’t even an option.

“Not at the hotel, but–”

“At the beach”, you completed the sentence for him with a soft smile.

“You–?”

“I remember.”

He had told you he’d just got there with his family, but that he needed a moment to himself. You had offered to leave, yet he had asked you to stay.

“A-and I wanted to get to know you, but like an idiot I didn’t even ask for your name or tell you mine…”, Tom recalled, not at all proud of himself. “But then we met again and… call me stupid, but it felt like destiny. And when you mentioned you were a hiking guide, that felt even more like a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Yeah…” Tom felt like he was a kid who had just made a mess and was now accounting for it to his parents. “Think of it: you and I, on our own, walking side by side in such beautiful scenery. Spending time together, getting to know each other…” He remembered how he had described everything to his brothers within those same walls that were now witnessing his humbling defeat. “And then reaching a panoramic spot…”

… that would’ve been perfect for our first kiss.

“So, let me get this right…”, you tried to put order in your thoughts. “You did something you don’t like–”

“No wait, I do like hiking”, he rectified. “I just… wasn’t in the right shape to do it, I guess…”

“So you forced yourself to go through all that… only to spend time with me?”

“And now everything is ruined”, Tom whined pitifully. “I look hideous and in these conditions, hiking will be off-limits for me…”

He would have to give up on the haunted ruins, there was no way in the World his family was gonna let him go there or even step in that direction. It was all over.

“You know you could’ve simply asked me out, right?”

“Yeah, but now I won’t be able to join you and spend… wait, what?” He stopped, registering what you had just told him. “Wait, what?”, he repeated, incredulous. “You mean you would’ve said yes?”

“I means I would still say yes…”, you corrected his sentence, wiggling your eyebrows at him. “But for now, I think you should rest. I could show you the roses and jasmines I planted with my aunt, though, I’m very proud of them.”

He was too stunned to speak, not believing his unapologetic luck, and his jaw literally dropped.

“And you could use this.”

With his mind unable to summon a single coherent word, Tom just followed the course of your actions as you picked up your hat from your lap, smoothed its wrinkles and then placed it onto his head, leaning forward and bumping the tip of your nose with his and then even going as far as kissing it, while doing so.

“You look pretty in lilac.”

A/n: Yeah, that was sappy af and I’m not even sorry about it hehehe~ thank you for reading, love you! 💜

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#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x hiking guide!reader #tshwritersnet #event:summerchallenge #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #take my hand wreak my plans

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downwiththeficness · 7 months

Text

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Twenty Four

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction. Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed. You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen eyes. This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

Word Count: ~2,000

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Masterlist Read on AO3

Eva leaned against Alexei’s car in the driveway of her childhood home. The sunlight was less kind to the house than moon light. She scanned the shutters that were falling off the side and the screen door that was hanging crookedly from the hinges. Given the level of neglect to the structure, they were lucky that the electrical and water still worked.

She remembered sitting on the porch with her mother, cracking beans for dinner. She remembered hot days that smelled like the fresh laundry that hung on a line out back. She remembered praying every night before she went to sleep. Soft, blurry images that were wrapped in all the love Eva’s parents could give her.

A sense of shame came to her as she realized the house’s poor condition was partially her fault. It would take months for the contractors to bring the house to a livable condition. Eva would never see it restored.

Alexei burst through the front door, “What good are contractors if they can’t keep an appointment?”

She glanced at her watch, “Its only five after.”

“They are late.”

“The house is hard to find,” Eva countered, “They’ll be here soon.”

Alexei hadn’t broached the subject of what he wanted to talk to her about and Eva wasn’t going to ask. She felt awash with information and she didn’t think that her brain could take any more. Whatever the Russian had to say obviously couldn’t be said in front of Josh.

Another secret Eva would have to carry.

Less than ten minutes later, a pick up came barreling up the drive. She straightened and folded her hands in front of her while she waited for the men to climb out of it. A warm handshake. A polite ‘ma’am’. A gentle correction that Alexei was not her husband.

Eva played the part, giving the men a tour of the home and pointing out things that Josh wanted repaired or updated. She smiled when they quoted above and beyond the going rate for repairs, deferred to her husband for the invoices. Ignored the nervous glances towards Alexei.

It was only when she turned the corner to her old room that Eva faltered. Her bed was still sitting there along with the cedar chest gifted to her by a grandmother she barely remembered. The gray-blue paint she picked out for her eleventh birthday was faded and every flat surface was covered in a thin layer of dust.

She felt her chest twist as she thought about the last night she spent in that room. Nervous and giddy, staring at her wedding dress hanging from the door of her closet. The mass of lace and taffeta was stored away in the hall closet, purposefully forgotten among the winter coats.

To his credit, Alexei noticed her discomfort and deftly led the contractors to another part of the house. Eva was left alone in a room she hadn’t set foot inside for almost seven years.

Sniffing back her feelings, Eva knelt down beside the chest and lifted the lid. It smelled the same. Exactly the same. Her jaw clenched against the rush of memories that came with that smell.

Inside, the chest was nearly bare. All that remained was a small swath of cotton. Eva reached for it, pulling away layers of fabric to reveal a brightly colored knit blanket—her baby blanket. The edges were a little frayed from the years she spent dragging it along behind her, but it was still mostly intact.

Eva held it to her chest, an errant tear falling down her cheek. She wiped it away and stood, folding the blanket a few times so that she could carry it beneath her arm. The contractors were good enough not to point it out when she returned to the group. Eva went on with the tour for another half hour, holding the blanket the whole way.

When Eva was sure that they understood the breadth of work that was expected of them, she wrote out the billing address and gave better directions to the main road. Then, she stood on the porch and watched them go.

Alexei waited until the dust settled before he said, “We’re going to take a detour.” He saw the panic on her face, “Relax, Birdie. I just want to talk with you where ears are less likely to listen.”

The place where ears were less likely to listen turned out to be the gun range. Eva followed Alexei’s lead while he talked amiably with the manager and selected a pair of cumbersome ear protection. Then, she followed him to the firing lane.

She was no stranger to guns. Living in the country meant that her father would go hunting when deer season came around. He taught her how to hold a rifle, how to squeeze the trigger, how to brace herself against the kick. She took down her first buck the year before she left the house. They didn’t have money to get it mounted, but the family rationed the deer meat for an entire winter and half the spring.

Alexei fired off a few rounds with a pistol inlaid with mother of pearl. Eva recognized it as a birthday gift from Josh. She stood behind him and to the side, watching the paper target at the far end of the lane. Good grouping. Two to the head, four to the chest. One to the belly. He paused, then fired twice more to empty the clip.

“You want to try?”

Eva shrugged, “Okay.”

Alexei reloaded and handed the gun to her. Eva took her position and fired. Shoulder. She adjusted her grip, fired twice more to the chest. Her aim towards the head was a little off, clipping the target. Another adjustment and she got three dead center. Just for fun, she emptied the rest of the clip near and around the groin.

When she set the weapon down, Alexei was laughing, “You learn that on the farm?”

She nodded.

“Good. You might need it soon.”

Eva turned to him, “Why?”

“I won’t offend you by pretending you don’t know that the feds are closing in. Myra told Josh that you found her trying to get access to the financials.”

There was no use denying it, “I did.”

Alexei crossed his arms, “Its bad. My contacts tell me that the investigation has been going on for over a year and that they are ready to indict.”

A surge of anxiety rolled over her. The knowledge that he had people on the inside set off about a thousand different questions, none of them good.

“You think we’re all going to jail?”

She tried to say it evenly, but Eva could hear how fragile her voice was. The weight of an uncertain future was a heavy burden.

“No,” Alexei replied with certainty, “There’s not enough to pin anything on Josh.”

Eva frowned, “That’s not what I meant and I think you know it.”

His mouth thinned, “You’re very smart, Birdie. You know where this will go.”

Alexei was looking at her meaningfully, and Eva began to think about the purpose of their little field trip.

She looked away, gaze falling on the target at the far end of the lane, “Why would I need to know how to shoot a gun soon?”

“Not a gun,” he murmured, “it doesn’t have to be a gun.”

Eva cut a glance at him, “You’re beatin’ around the bush, Alexei. Just say what you need to say.”

He inhaled, exhaled, then, “Myra plans to pin the embezzlement on you. Josh isn’t going to stop her.”

She knew that already. Eva was well aware of Myra’s regard for her. She was also well aware of Josh’s disregard.

“It’ll fall apart as soon as I’m taken into custody. I don’t plan to be a scapegoat for something that was Josh’s plan all along.”

Alexei’s voice was sympathetic, “They know that.”

They know that.

There was something about the way he said it. Layers and layers of meaning that took Eva a while to dig through. They needed someone to pin everything on, but they also needed someone who wouldn’t talk, who couldn’t be turned against them.

“You think they’ll kill me,” she concluded. “You think they’ll pin it on my and then take me out of the picture.”

He nodded.

Eva sighed, “Fine. I’ll handle it when the time comes.”

Alexei’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t think you understand the severity of what is going on.”

“No,” she countered, “I understand it. Thank you for the warning.”

They didn’t talk any more about it while Alexei reloaded and went about emptying the clip. The not talking about it continued while Eva took her turn, while they returned the ear protection to the manager, while they walked back to the car, and during the entire drive back to the house.

In the driveway, Alexei put a hand on her arm, “Remember what we talked about.”

“I will.”

Eva would absolutely keep Josh’s coming betrayal in mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to be angry about it. She was also betraying him—multiple times over.

Instead of worrying about it, Eva channeled her energy into prepping for what might come the next day, the next week, the next month. She packed up the money and all of her essential items into the duffel and put it in the hall closet beneath several pillows and an old comforter.

While she was looking through every drawer and cabinet in her room, she found the intro to Spanish book. With the afternoon free from meetings, Eva went ahead and took it back to the library.

The librarian, Margaret, recognized her, “Mrs. Moore, I have just the thing for you.”

Eva smiled, saying, “I’m sorry, I’m not looking to check out anything new today. Just returning this.”

“Alright,” Margaret replied as she took the book from Eva, “You know, we have a lovely new calendar coming out for the new year. Why don’t you take one?”

The calendar was a glossy print with puppies across the front. Eva almost demurred, but her inner Southern etiquette wouldn’t quite let her refuse when Margaret was looking at her so genially.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. When you’re ready to pick up volume two of this, you give me a call and I’ll set it aside for you.”

“I will,” Eva said, “Thank you.”

It wasn’t until she got out to the car that Eva noticed the post-it note placed on the top of the calendar. It definitely hadn’t been there before. She peeled it off, wondering how Margaret had pressed it into place without Eva noticing.

You were right. Minor delay. Spend the night with me. Friday. I’ll take care of him.

She read it a few times, memorizing the handwriting and wondering if it was Horacio’s or Margaret’s. Then, out of caution, Eva drove to a fast food restaurant, ordered a milkshake, drank a bit of it, stuffed the note inside the melting ice cream, and threw the cup into the dumpster.

When she got to the house, it was quiet. The lights were out and Josh’s car wasn’t there. She went up to her room and found a small package on her bed. On the top, written in permanent marker, was an oval slashed from the top left down to the bottom right. Wary hands opened the box to find a small hand gun with a full clip inside. The pistol would fit in any small purse. Eva lifted the gun out of the box to find a small holster that could be strapped around her waist.

For many months, Eva had been aware that trouble was coming. The gift from Alexei could only mean that, finally, trouble was here. .

#Shadow and Veil #Narcos #Horacio Carrillo #carrillo #maurice compte #au #A/B/O dynamics

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pbandjesse · 2 years

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So I'm writing this from a hospital bed! First time I've ever said that before. I am waiting to get a rabies shot. Cool cool cool. I am mostly terrified but using humor to cope with it.

Today was a sleepy and lazy day. I had a horrible time waking up. But I forced myself out of bed at 10. I had a tiny breakfast. And got to work on putting things away in my studio. I was to hot but I was pretty productive.

I played a little Stardew valley. And played with Sweetp. But I wanted to do more art.

I would catch up on all my knitting and finally get to start working on the layouts for the Aesop's book.

James brought me the prints yesterday and I spent some time cutting them down and setting up the pages. I would get four prints done towards the end of the afternoon. But it took a surpringly long time to piece everything together and I didn't want to rush because I was tired. So instead I just took breaks.

I would lay around. Eat a leftover taco. Try to wake up. But I couldn't. I just felt so tired and it was hard to do much of anything at all.

It really was just to hot and I was still dealing with my feelings from last night. Sleep did help. But I was emotionally tired.

James would come home while I was finishing the printing I was doing. They brought me donuts and I was just happy to have them home.

We spent the afternoon chilling. We ordered Indian food and it was a little spicier then I wanted but was still very good.

Eventually I went to lay down. James would make rice pudding that was very good. And I took a bath and used my new hair oil and things were good.

I was a little restless but that was okay. James would come in our room when their mom called and said there was a stray cat lose in their house. And wanted James to come home.

I offered to come too. I'm good at catching animals. I'd done this before. So we both got back into clothes from our pajamas and headed to the fulwiler house.

Honesyly at first things were fine. Cat was under the bed. I got it by the neck and pulled it out no problem. But James wasn't ready with the towel and I lost grip and it went south from there.

In grabbing it a second time under the dresser it got me three times. On both hands. And the one hurt very very bad and made a sound. I had put a sweatshirt on at this point to protect from scratching but I wasn't ready for such strong bites.

But I got it and James wrapped.it up and ran it outside.

My hands had blood on them and I felt a little bit in a daze. I went to the kitchen to wash them off and no one seemed to get how much pain I was in. I was very worried. My brain went to rabies. To infections. This was a deep puncture.

I ran my hands under cool water. And James got the first aid kit and cleaned me up and bandages but I was still shaken up.

We said goodbye, they thanked us. And we headed out. But I was freaking out a bit. I was googling what to do and everything said if it's a stray to go to the er.

I am still unsure if I have insurance. The whole thing got messed up and so I was panicking about that. But I also was very worried about rabies.

So we went to the ER. And thankfully didn't have to wait to long. And this hospital is apparently known for their hand unit?? Wild. Everyone was very nice and I only cried a little because I was scared.

I got an x-ray. And got to see my bones which was neat. I got two very burnt shots in my legs and one in my left arm. Then I had to soak my hands in iodine and saline for a half hour which made me feel like an Easter egg.

Me and James were mostly joking because I don't know how else to deal with fear. But I was, and am, scared. The x-ray was scary. The bending and prodding of my very swollen fingers was scary. The needles were scary.

But we handled it. And there was some waiting. But we were there less then 3 hours total. We are both tired and stressed. I don't know what happens with work tomorrow. I texted Alexi. I think I'll still make it for my afternoon programs. But I have to go figure out a prescription in the morning. Which is very scary for me. I don't even want to think about how much everything is going to cost. I just feel so dumb. And I'm hurting.

We just got discharged and we're almost home. I'm going to ice my on hand and go to sleep. I hope the swelling goes down because my right hand feels so bad right now.

I hope tomorrow is better. This last week has been a lot of my shoulders and now this. Sucks.

Goodnight everyone.

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lovestruckay · 3 years

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Request: "Hi there! Loveeee your writing for Fire Force and was wondering if you could do headcanons (SFW and NSFW if that's ok!) for Akitaru and a fem s/o for celebrating birthdays or holidays?"

Pairing: Akitaru Obi x Fem!Reader

A/N: Happy birthday, Obi! I’m a little late but I made up for it by making this 2.5k words, haha. NSFW content is below the cut, it’s mixed in throughout instead of separate! I used these HC as a way to talk about some of the days I celebrate personally from the Wheel of the Year - eight holidays that celebrate the spring equinox, the summer solstice, the autumnal equinox, the winter solstice, and the four cross-quarter days between them.

Akitaru loves the holidays. He’s the kind of person who plans celebrations a month in advance, sometimes even longer depending on what the special occasion is. He’ll put out decorations, bake pastries, cook whole meals, and even throw parties where he’ll give mushy speeches.

You think he leans into celebrating even more for the sake of the rest of Company 8. Nearly all of his companions had come from troubled backgrounds or had lost their loved ones and he was always clear that the Eighth was their family too. Akitaru is the father figure of their ragtag company and he takes that role seriously. Not just in protecting them and guiding them but in doing the little things that family did - like celebrating holidays.

So, when these special occasions roll around, you better get ready because this man is not just celebrating for the fun of it but because it’s a way to bond with you and the rest of Company 8.

The Holy Sol Temple has generic, catch-all versions of all the seasonal holidays. With the Temple worshiping a Sun God, their holidays are centered around solar events like the solstices, the equinoxes, and the cross-quarter days between. December celebrations are all bundled up into the Winter Solstice, Ostara and Easter became the Spring Equinox, Samhain and Halloween became the Autumnal Cross-Quarter Day, and so on.

Even though these combined holidays are the most frequently celebrated, the pre-Cataclysm holidays still exist and are still celebrated. It is on a much smaller scale though so this makes celebrating these holidays a much more meaningful affair. If you celebrate a particular day, whether it’s because of tradition or your heritage or something else entirely, Akitaru is excited to learn and be a part of something so important to you.

Valentine’s Day is one of his favorite holidays because it’s a celebration he gets to spend with the woman he had fallen madly in love with - you. He likes that there’s a holiday dedicated to your love for each other and he tends to go overboard with making sure you know how much he cherishes you.

Akitaru is really cheesy about showing you how much he loves you. He always starts the day by waking up before you and sneaking into the kitchen so he can make you breakfast in bed. He’ll cook your pancakes in the shape of wobbly hearts and there will be a protein shake there with your orange juice. He has covered your entire bathroom with sticky notes, each note containing sweet messages he had written throughout the year about how much he loves you. You have a hand bound book on your shelf filled with pressed flowers and love notes that he had made for you one year.

He once hired a skywriter plane to write your initials in a heart in the sky. He loves you so much that it turns him into the corniest, sappiest man on the face of the planet.

He takes the Firefighter Calendar very seriously and he’s absolutely playful and confident enough to wear something sexy for you as a surprise. If you surprise him by wearing some revealing lingerie, he will spend the rest of the night absolutely worshiping you and showing you how beautiful you were.

Akitaru is such a big man but he can be so delicate that the tenderness he touches you with makes your breath catch. But sometimes he forgets his own strength, especially when you’re wrapped up like a present, and he tears the wrapping paper. You know better now than to expect whatever pretty lingerie you buy to survive the night.

He makes sure that you can’t get out of bed when he’s done with you and that works out great for him because, guess what - dinner in bed is on the way.

The Spring Equinox mornings are always spent outside basking in the nice weather and the warm sun as you plant new flowers in the cathedral garden. You spend the afternoon spring cleaning your home, sweeping behind all the furniture and packing up winter clothes. The afternoons are spent painting eggs and hiding little gifts of candy and sweets around the cathedral for the rest of the company to find.

Every year, the Autumnal Cross-Quarter Day (or Halloween as most call it outside the church) is a day-long affair. Mornings are spent carving Jack-o’-lanterns and baking cookies decorated with icing in the shapes of skulls, bats, and spiderwebs. During the afternoon, you’re putting out last minute decorations and filling bowls with king-sized candy bars for the trick-or-treating children that stop by the Fire Force cathedral.

Somehow, Akitaru is always able to convince everyone at the Eighth to dress up in costumes. He especially loves doing coordinated outfits with you, like Frakenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein or a werewolf and a vampire. One year, he was able to convince the entire company to dress up as zombies and you all spent the day making zombie noises at each other and giggling.

If you like getting a little scared for Halloween, he'll take you to a haunted house or a haunted trail where he will inevitably be clinging to you by the end of the experience. If you get chased by the workers wielding fake chainsaws at a trail, he will get so scared that he will literally scoop you up into his arms and run away.

If you’re more interested in staying home and spending time together, you’ll nestle up on the couch together with a bowl of candy and some of the pastries you had baked earlier and binge watch horror movies. He has absolutely no talent whatsoever for video games - you swear the man can’t even figure out how to hold the controller half the time - but he will happily cuddle you and cheer you on if you wanted to play some scary video games instead.

Once you two are alone, Akitaru can’t seem to get his hands off of you. He thinks you are so beautiful every single day but there is something so alluring to him about you dressed up. If you’re wearing one of those revealing costumes, his eyes are glued to you the entire day and, once he can finally get you away from everyone, he’s tearing it off to get to the sweets underneath.

He is very sensitive to the fact that winter holidays can be very personal to a person depending on their background. Most people in Tokyo celebrate the Winter Solstice but there are people who still celebrate the pre-Cataclysm holidays. Whichever holiday you want to observe, Akitaru wants to support you and celebrate with you.

You want to build an altar for Yuletide? He’s bringing home pretty rocks and little trinkets he found that he thought you might like to give as offerings.

You want to light a menorah for Hanukkah? He’s cleaned off a special spot in the kitchen window for the candelabrum.

You want to decorate a tree for Christmas? He’s driving around looking for a pine tree he can cut down for you.

You want to decorate the house for Kwanzaa? He’s singing with you as you both hang brightly colored kente and he’s memorized all seven core principles to talk to you about during the week.

You want to host a dinner for Las Posadas? He’s in the kitchen helping you make tamales and he even stuffed and hung two piñatas - one for the new recruits and the other for you both and the rest of the company.

When it comes to gifts, Akitaru is really good at picking out presents for you. He always listens when you talk and he makes sure to remember when you talk about things that you like. He’s the kind of guy who will buy small presents throughout the year and stow them away in the back of his closet until the winter holidays roll around.

He’s extremely easy to buy gifts for, he loves the traditional “dad” gifts. Get this man some brand new winter socks, a new jacket to replace the coat he got too muscular for, and some new underwear and he is happy. If you give him something a little more exciting in addition to his gifts, like taking off your robe to reveal you’re wrapped up in a bow, he will gladly unwrap you and give you a present of his own.

For New Years, he likes to host a little get together with Company 8 to celebrate. You all make a big dinner and maybe even get a little tipsy before going up to the roof to watch the fireworks. You sit in chairs you had set out earlier, Akitaru settling you into his warm lap instead, and watch in amazement as Company 1 puts on their yearly fireworks show in the sky over Tokyo.

When the show reaches its climax and the clock rolls over to midnight, he kisses you.

Whether you’re drunk on a little alcohol or just the excitement of the night, sex on New Years Eve is always fun. It’s so easy to be yourself and to feel beautiful with him - he is such a light hearted and openly loving man - but tipsy sex is always full of smiles and laughter interspersed with little gasps and moans. There’s no shame and it just feels good to be complete with the man you love.

On Lunar New Year, he is taking you out to shop for new clothes and he’s helping you give out cards and gifts. He makes sure to buy a bag of sweets to leave as an offering once you clean the altar at home later that day. In the evening, he’s once again in the kitchen, helping cook eight different dishes for the reunion dinner with a communal hot pot always being the centerpiece of the meal.

Akitaru loves the holidays but his favorite celebrations are the ones for you two specifically: your birthdays and your anniversary.

For his birthday, he just wants a small get together with the rest of the company and maybe a couple friends. He is still as ridiculously easy as ever to shop for, just buy him new exercise equipment and he’ll love it. He works out so much that he wears down and breaks his equipment and he’s always excited to try a new machine.

He especially loves it when you surprise him in the bedroom with something new. If you teach yourself how to deep throat his impressive size, he’ll be wrapped around your little finger for a week straight. If you give him the remote to your vibrating panties while you’re out getting dinner, he’ll break down halfway through your meal and pull you into the bathroom to make you see stars. You never need an excuse to experiment in bed but it’s always fun surprising him with something every year.

For your birthday, Akitaru will always ask you what you want instead of trying to surprise you. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with a party if you don’t want it and he doesn’t want you to be craving more if he plans for a day at home.

If you want to go out, he'll take you to the amusement park for games and roller coasters (one of which he couldn’t even ride because the safety harness didn’t fit over his muscular body). If you like the outdoors, he’ll take you on a hike through one of the nature preserves and lead you to a picnic he prepared for you. If you like to dance, he’s taking you out and trying his best not to step on your toes.

If you want to stay in, Akitaru will buy you a copy of the newest video game you had your eye on and will order pizza so he can watch you try to beat it in one sitting. He’ll spend the morning baking and decorating a cake from scratch and it comes out incredible. He’ll give you a massage and his almost too strong grip feels so good it sends shivers up your spine.

On your birthday, he is in the palm of your hand. Whatever you want to do, anything you want to try, he is so eager to please. He’s an open-minded man and there really aren’t many things that are hard passes for him in bed. He isn’t particularly well versed in the kinky stuff so he’ll need a bit of an explanation sometimes but, once he understands what you want, he will gladly give it to you.

Without a doubt, your anniversary is Akitaru’s favorite holiday of the year. He loves that your anniversary is a celebration of your bond and a reaffirming of your love for each other. He’s honestly just as dramatic on this day as he is on Valentine’s Day - if not more so - and he will come up with the most cheesy, romantic ways of telling you he loves you.

Sticking to tradition, he took you out to a fancy dinner one year to a restaurant with a dress code and no prices on the menu. Even with the overly formal atmosphere, he was still his usual boisterous self throughout the dinner and his sunshine smile puts you at ease. The dinner was spectacular and, even if you normally hated stuffy environments like that, his happiness is contagious and you feel comfortable.

On your anniversary, he makes it his Sol given duty to fuck you until you scream when you cum. He makes it a point to give you the best orgasm of the year, making you finish over and over until your pleasure climbs to a high that has moans shamelessly spilling from your lips. You absolutely cannot walk the day after your anniversary so, every year, you take not only your anniversary off but the day following as well.

Akitaru pays such close attention to your moods and your likes and dislikes when it comes to the holidays throughout the year and tries his best to make you happy. At the end of the day, he just wants to be with you and for you to have a good time.

After all, he loves you so much he wants to spend the rest of his life making happy memories like these together.

#akitaru obi #obi akitaru #akitaru obi x reader #obi akitaru x reader #obi x reader #akitaru x reader #fire force x reader #fire force #enn enn no shouboutai #fanfiction

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fictionadventurer · 3 years

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I’m going to talk about my Holy Week. Because a lot of stuff happened that gave me a lot of thoughts.

Palm Sunday was a lot more meaningful because I happened to be reading through King David’s story in the Old Testament just beforehand. “The king comes in triumph to David’s city” just feels a lot more real and concrete when you have recently been reminded of just what that kingdom was and what that king was like.

King David has become one of my favorite Old Testament characters. He’s the warrior king and the poet! The different facets of him are so intriguing.

I was wondering just why David gets so much credit for being a model of virtue and a guy that we emphasize as one of Christ’s ancestors, since he did some pretty despicable things. Then I realized that, for all the terrible things David did, he was one of the few kings in Israel’s history who never turned to idolatry. When he screwed up, he always knew who to turn to. I can respect that.

I also reread through most of The Man Born to Be King during Holy Week, and that also was extremely helpful in making the events of Holy Week feel grounded and relatable. Sayers goes a little bit too far in making up background subplots to tie things together (mostly surrounding Judas), but there are so many little human moments and little character observations that I just love. Jesus makes jokes with his disciples! Matthew the former tax collector is the one who starts to notice there’s something funny with the way Judas keeps the money bag. Peter, James and John freak out about the Transfiguration among themselves like, “Did you see the same things I did?” It just does such a good job of reminding you that these are people and Jesus was a person, and we can care about this tragedy and triumph on a human level as well as a spiritual one.

I was gifted a little book that arranged the Psalms according to the old Liturgy of the Hours format. I started a habit of reading some of the morning ones immediately after waking up and reading Compline before bed. It’s only been a week, but it’s already an immensely helpful habit, giving me something to reach for in the morning that’s not my phone. And the structure of it helped me to enter into a more disciplined structure of prayer rather than just putting things off indefinitely.

I also started a Consecration to St. Joseph. It’s only been a few days, but I love the book so far. This format (longer readings and structured prayers) works a lot better for me than the Marian consecration book (short readings and personal meditation) I did last year. And St. Joseph’s life fits in very well with that grounded-Gospel focus I was getting from Sayers’ plays and from my new fascination with King David.

I learned about the transforming power of a good haircut. Since lockdown started, my hair has looked terrible. At first, I thought it was just that I couldn’t get a haircut for several months. Then when I did get haircuts, it didn’t help. This week, I finally told the hairdresser to try shortening up my layers again, and I couldn’t believe the difference it made. My hair has volume again! It actually looks good, rather than barely decent. You wouldn’t believe how much this had helped my mood.

I spent my Holy Thursday helping kids make rosaries at the Catholic elementary school. It went surprisingly well. The kids were so creative, and I heard several kids exclaim in surprise, “Hey, this is actually fun.”

On Good Friday, I went to my first ever Tenebrae service. All I knew beforehand was that it ended with the lights going out and a loud noise/drumming on the pews to symbolize the earthquake at Christ’s death. NO ONE TOLD ME IT WAS MULTIPLE-GROWN-WOMEN-WEEPING LEVELS OF TERRIFYING. “Loud noise” does not BEGIN to describe the nightmarish cacophony. I faced my mortality in that moment. My neighbor’s kids have probably been scarred for life. (But I am very impressed by that choir’s skill. And it did make “Christ Our Light” infinitely more meaningful during the Vigil Mass the next day.)

I finally learned how to make tie-dye colored eggs. It was fun, if disappointingly difficult to control.

The renewal of baptismal promises hit very differently this year. On some subconscious level, I suppose I’d always thought of it as a requirement. Like I’m saying to God, “Look Father, I’m still being good. I believe all the things that I’m supposed to.” This year, it hit me that this is a cry of defiance against the world. Announcing to the people around us that, “These are all the things I believe. In a world where none of these things are obvious, I am choosing to believe all these truths and center my worldview on them.” It made my responses much more enthusiastic.

I am still physically incapable of not crying at precise points during my church choir’s Easter Vigil Communion song.

#i know no one wants to read all of this #but i need to write all of this #and this saves you all from having to scroll past several smaller posts that you don't want to read #catholic things

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

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Summer Nights: Part 1

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Overweight/Plus size Female identifying Reader

Series: Summer Nights

Warning: Fred’s death, the series will mention issues such as guilt, grief, etc.

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff (formerly imaginesofeveryfandom) aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You’d always had brief glimpses of Charlie Weasley throughout your life, but despite your closeness with the rest of the Weasley family and your friendship with the Weasley Twins, you had never officially met. Until Charlie Weasley decided to take the summer off from his work as a Dragon Keeper at the Romanian Reserve and come back home, to the Burrow, that is.

Notes: Gif is my own, using my art of Charlie Weasley which you can find on my art blog @artisticwarnug here. If you use please make sure you credit me and my art blog properly, that the ownership is clear as it is my own art and I would hate for it to be unclear that I made it <3 x

Reader was a Hufflepuff in school but it probably won’t be mentioned that much!

Prologue

After the war you’d found it harder and harder to spend long periods of time with your family. Not only were you working and living within a magical world that they were not a part of, but they didn’t know of the war or understand the true trauma of the experience for you and most of the wizarding community. You’d lost one of your best friends...Fred wasn’t coming back and your family had no idea that any of it even occurred. You’d seen your own friend alive one minute, and dead the next. Nothing could quite compare to the feeling, like choking on your own breath. Like drowning.

As a result you not only lived with the Weasley’s, Molly protesting whenever you tried to pay her money (you had Bill help you put some into their vault anyway, feeling the need to give them something for their kindness), but spent most of your holidays there as well, rarely returning home for Christmas, Easter, or the summer time. As much as you loved your family you struggled to be around them and they didn’t understand you either.

In your grief you’d found that helping others made it easier, or at least helped you forget the feelings of guilt and grief that sat so heavy in your stomach. Helping George get back on his feet, helping Lee get his enthusiasm back, helping Mrs Weasley with dinner and around the house, helping everyone just seemed to make it easier to handle. That and working relatively long hours as a healer at St. Mungo’s often took your mind off of the war and what had been lost. You often chose to hide your feelings from the war behind Hufflepuff cheer. But, sometimes you wished someone would notice. You didn’t blame them for not, everyone had their own problems, your remaining best friends most of all. Grief and running a business took much attention.

You woke up that Saturday morning fully aware that you should get out of bed, but that you didn’t want to. It wasn’t a particularly important Saturday, no plans had been made, no work to be done, no visitors expected. Yet, it would turn out to be a Saturday that completely changed your whole life.

Since moving into the Burrow, 2 years prior, you had been staying in Fred and George’s old room, seeing as George lived above the Flat. You had spent the first few weeks simply making sure the room was safe, the twins had left many pranks around their room, but also all sorts of potion ingredients. You’d packed everything up and taken it to the Flat...It had been hard, going through all their childhood things with George. Hard for you, but harder for George. Years on and George was doing better, but you knew he still didn’t feel complete, like something was missing. But he slept better, stopped having nightmares, and generally seemed to have some of his old cheer back. It helped that Angelina was there for him as well. He was moving on and growing happier each day.

The few things that you had been given by the Weasley family included clothes. At first it had been odd, being given some of Bill or Charlie or George’s old clothes to wear to bed or around the house. But, that had gone away quite quickly considering the oversized quidditch jerseys, jumpers, and shirts, were incredibly comfortable. Bill’s fit most snug, being a plump woman, with wide hips and a stomach, and Bill being one of the lankier of the Weasley’s. George and Charlie’s clothes fit much larger on you, however, seeing as they were some of the broader, stockier Weasley’s. It still surprised you that Charlie had been a seeker and not a beater.

The night previous you’d gone to bed in Charlie’s old quidditch jersey and a pair of pajama trousers with little snitches on, that had previously belonged to George. The trousers were much too long on you, covering your feet, and the Jersey while it clung to your hips was loose in every other aspect. It was a pairing that you enjoyed simply for its comfort. It was not something the Weasley’s even blinked at or questioned, after all you’d been gifted the clothes and had been wearing them for the last few years. So you hadn’t really thought twice, as you stumbled out of bed, feet hitting the powder stained floor, about going to breakfast as you were.

You yawned loudly, covering your mouth with your hand, as you walked into the kitchen, not really taking in which Weasley’s were at the table, being much too tired to do so.

“Morning” You sighed out as you grabbed a plate and collected your breakfast, Mrs Weasley having already placed dishes of eggs, toast, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, and sausages out on the dining table.

“Good morning, dear!” Mrs Weasley called back, followed by a variety of familiar Weasley voices, and one that you did not recognise, that gave you pause.

You wouldn’t say you were mortified to look up from your breakfast and realise that Charlie Weasley, the very attractive Charlie Weasley, was sitting in front of you, with an amused half smile and a raised eyebrow. But, you certainly were mildly embarrassed, simply because you were not exactly dressed for introductions and you were almost certain that you had a million knots in your hair.

“Uh, hello...” You wave awkwardly, a little stinted, with an embarrassed smile.

“Hello, love. I see mum finally gave away my jersey” You’re certain that Charlie is trying not to laugh, although you don’t feel hurt by this fact. Much like the rest of the Weasley’s Charlie comes across as laughing with you rather than at you.

“I can...you can have it back, I...”

“It’s alright, looks better on you than it does on me. Might be a tad small for me now actually.” You relax at his easy going manner about it. You were sure it would be a little weird for the second oldest Weasley to finally meet someone while said someone was wearing his clothes. But, apparently not.

“Y/N, right? I don’t think we’ve properly met?”

It had been two years since you’d last seen Charlie Weasley, that had been at Fred’s funeral and you’d not really taken much notice of him at the time. You had been, naturally, more concerned with and consumed by your own grief and the proceedings before you.

You’d forgotten how handsome Charlie was. With broad shoulders and deep red hair, pulled back into a ponytail. Charlie was by far the most freckled of the Weasley’s with dense freckles across his face and sharp jaw, down his neck, and over his arms. The last time you’d seen Charlie he’d been dressed in a full suit, covered head to toe, the time before that he’d been a teenager, now you realised that he had a tattoo that you had never previously seen. It was a beautiful tattoo, a welsh green on his neck that twisted its head and puffed smoke from its nostrils.

“We haven’t, just crossed paths, here and there. Surprising, really.”

“Considering you are not only friends with my brothers...” he pauses just a moment, before correcting himself, “brother, and have been living here, yeah, just a little surprising. Hufflepuff, right?”

“Yeah, managed to make Head Girl in the end, much to...much to Fred and George’s delight.” It was still odd wanting to mention them both, but realising that one of them wasn’t around anymore. But, it was true, Fred and George had teased you for weeks, over the fact that you, best friend to the biggest pranksters at Hogwarts, managed to make Head Girl. “Are you still working at the reserve in Romania?”

“Yeah, thought I'd be head keeper by now...but...”

“Bad boss?”

“He’s not bad, but we don’t see eye to eye when it comes to the dragons.” You raise an eyebrow, curious for him to continue. You’d never really been especially good at Care of Magical Creatures but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fascinating to you. “He wants to commercialise the reserve, make it a place people can come visit rather than a place for us to keep the dragons from the Muggles. Daft really, dragons’ll sooner eat a bunch of tourists than sit pretty for them.”

“The reserves aren’t supposed to be tourist attractions though...why would...surely that’s dangerous and also not exactly fair on the dragons?”

“Oh, it’s definitely dangerous, it takes multiple keepers to restrain a dragon and the dragons aren’t exactly in cages on the reserve like a muggle zoo. Luckily he hasn’t gone through with the idea...yet.” He frowns in a way that tells you he suspects it’ll happen anyway and his tone suggests irritation with the situation. You’re sure for someone who loves dragons so much and wants them to be kept away from muggles and left to their own devices, it must be terribly frustrating.

There’s a beat of silence as you continue eating. You feel a little awkward, although that certainly isn’t Charlie’s fault. It’s made worse by the sensation of Mrs Weasley’s eyes on the two of you. You were more than aware that Mrs Weasley’s one goal in life since the war had been to marry off each of her children, you included in that. Ginny had since been dating Harry, Ron was with Hermione, George was with Angelina, Bill was already married and Percy...you weren’t sure about Percy. But, that left Charlie as the oldest single Weasley child, and yourself...still not dating much to Molly’s dismay. She was constantly asking you if you’d met anyone lately.

“You’re a healer right?”

“At St. Mungo’s, on the Dai Llewellyn Ward for Serious Bites, although I'm often dragged away if someone's had a few too many hexes that have interacted poorly.”

“Ever had any dragon bites?”

“Once, a Peruvian Vipertooth, lady was in a right state for a while. Came out the other end though.”

“Nasty bites, aggressive little buggers. You’d probably have a field day on the reserve the amount of bites and burns we have each day.” At that Charlie lifted his own arms to show an array of burn scars and old bite marks. Some had healed well, others less so.

You pointed at one, “Looks like you avoided seeing the healer.” You raise an eyebrow and make the face you learnt from Madam Pomphrey, the one that explicitly says you disapprove of avoiding proper medical care. You’d spent a great deal of time with Poppy not just because of the twins but also because she’d helped you prepare for your healer training.

He lets out a slightly nervous laugh and looks away from you, red rushing up his neck in traditional Weasley fashion at being caught, “Didn’t want to bother anyone, it wasn’t serious. No need to worry, love.” You grab his arm and pull it closer to get a closer look. Trying to ignore the fact he had very strong forearms and incredibly warm skin.

Working on the Serious Bites Ward meant that you had a good eye for bite marks and what might have made them. Some dragons had very distinct bite marks. A Peruvian Viper Tooth had a different set of teeth to a Hungarian Horntail for instance.

“Ukranian Ironbelly, right? Young one, by the looks of it.”

“Just a baby really, got a bit over excited is all. Hurt like a bludger to the head though.”

“You should always see the reserve healer, you know? You could get a serious infection from a bite like this.” You let go of his arm and lean back in your chair, arms crossed, fixing him with the same look again.

“I would if our healer was as nice as you. He’s got the personality of a fire crab who’s had its tail yanked.” You try not to take the compliment as more than it is.

“Grumpy and explosive?” You knew a few healers like that. They didn’t exactly have the best bedside manner and it made many a witch or wizard reluctant to seek treatment.

“Exactly. Augustus Pye still working on the ward? He tried to give dad stitches that time...”

“Yes...” You sigh, it wasn’t that Augustus was a horrible person to work with so to speak, but you’d had a few awkward encounters with him when you’d first started working on the ward.

“You don’t sound happy about that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the man...he just...it's a very small ward you see and he may have...there were a few times where...”

“He asked her out on a date and she said no and embarrassed the poor bastard.” George’s voice comes from behind you with a laugh, before he takes the seat besides you. You’d been flattered, really you had, but, Augustus wasn’t someone you were particularly attracted to. Not physically, nor intellectually nor in regard to his personality. He was nice...but that was just it. You hadn’t expected to go into work and be asked on a date, either, it had been all a bit of a shock really...you hadn’t gotten a great deal of romantic attention in school. Being a big girl meant that boys were more inclined to tease you than date you. Not that you were upset about that, teenage boys were the worst.

“Thank you, George. I obviously couldn’t disclose that myself.” You roll your eyes

“I still don’t know how you did it, you’re far too nice to say no to anyone.”

“I...” You look at all the curious eyes watching you, feeling a wave of genuine embarrassment as you realise you’re going to have to tell them the truth...that you’d really struggled to say no and had instead, “told him I was already seeing someone, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings!” You protest as George lets out a loud laugh next to you.

“It’s not funny, George! I was very flattered but...I didn’t want to tell him he was just...meh! How do you let someone down nicely? At least this way he thinks it's because i’m already taken not because I find him lacklustre!”

“Just say it. You don’t find him attractive, you don’t want him to ravage you in the store room, it’s not that hard. You do know you’re an adult and not thirteen, right?”

You let out an unhappy moan as you let your face fall into your hands at George’s teasing.

“George Weasley!” You hear Molly scold him about talking about private matters such as ‘ravaging’ and teasing you so much, before turning her attention to you. “It’s okay not to like someone, dear, you don’t have to lie to save someone else’s feelings. Although, it would have been lovely for you to go on a date...it’s been a while, dear.”

“Mum.” Charlie gave his mother a look which you knew too well, many of the Weasley children had given their mother that exact same look whenever she tried to encourage them to find a date. It was a relief to have someone else tell her to leave well enough alone. You loved Mrs Weasley dearly, but you’d rather date someone you wanted to rather than date someone simply to please her.

“Oh, alright. Charlie, I need you and Ron to degnome the garden, you too George since you’re here. Y/N, dear, could you water the vegetables in the garden today?”

“Of course, Molly.” You’d long since learnt not to call her Mrs Weasley to her face. Molly hated any of her ‘adopted children’ calling her Mrs Weasley, Harry and Hermione still hadn’t quite gotten out of the habit yet though. Much to Molly’s dismay.

After much more teasing from George and a shy goodbye to Charlie, you rushed up the stairs to get ready for the day. A day that might very well end with Charlie Weasley being the death of you, death by embarrassment that is.

#summer nights #reader insert #readerinsert #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasleyxreader #charlie weasley/reader #charlie weasley / reader #harry potter #harry potter reader insert #plus size reader #overweight reader #female reader

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eclecticanalyst · 3 years

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Studying “A Study in Emerald”

At my grandmother’s house, stacked together with other books underneath a side table in her office, was a thick leatherbound volume with golden engraved lettering. SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE, it said, in large letters on the cover. And in smaller print: The Celebrated Cases of Sherlock Holmes.

I was eight or nine years old, and as soon as I opened the volume I was hooked. I brought it along as I rode with my grandmother doing errands. I asked her if I could have the book, and with her permission took it home with me. I hadn’t finished it by the time summer camp rolled around, so I tucked it into a suitcase and read bits of it at the end of activity-filled days before going to bed. I hardly even glanced at any other books until I had turned the last page.

Since I have re-read the stories so many times over the years, the solutions to the mysteries are no longer a surprise to me. I had read them for the mysteries, the first time. But now I read them for other reasons—the relationship between Holmes and Watson, the atmosphere of horror and dread that ACD does so well, the breadcrumbs of character arcs in the main and recurring characters, and the way the characters seem both dated and modern, sometimes in the same sentence.

All that is to say, I love Sherlock Holmes. And several months ago I found that Neil Gaiman had written a Sherlock Holmes story. I’ve read a few Gaiman works and was curious to see how he treated some of my favorite fictional characters, so I downloaded it. And read it. And loved it. And in this analysis, I will convey my enthusiasm by explaining just how amazing this story is.

NOTE: this will be a multi-part analysis, with one post for each part of “A Study in Emerald.” (Parts 2 and 3 will be covered in one post.) There will also be some follow-up posts with additional thoughts at the end.

You should 100% read the story before continuing because A) it’s awesome and B) there is a twist that I will be getting into pretty quickly that is much better if you experience it for yourself first.

Part 1: The New Friend

The beauty of this story is that knowing the Sherlock Holmes canon works both for and against the reader. If you’ve read the canon, you will recognize the references to certain characters or details or plot points—but at the same time, those moments of recognition can lead you to draw conclusions that Gaiman fully expects you to make but are in fact inaccurate.

Right off the bat, the title of “A Study in Emerald” is just one word away from the title of the very first Sherlock Holmes story. This, along with the first page or so of the narrative, primes us to approach the tale as a straightforward Sherlock Holmes pastiche, like the countless others that have been written: “Sherlock Holmes in space!” “Sherlock Holmes as a kid!” “Sherlock Holmes in the far future!”, where everything is basically the same, just with a natural transformation of entities to match the “hook” of the pastiche—so instead of smoking, kid Holmes sucks on lollipops or the like. The “hook” of this particular pastiche first manifests with the narrator’s war wounds being the result, not of bullets and fevers as in the canon, but of underwater creatures that suck the vitality out of one’s limbs.

“Okay,” we as readers familiar with Sherlock Holmes say to ourselves. “So Holmes and Watson, but in a world of the supernatural. Got it. Nice twist, Gaiman. I’m ready to see what you do with this.”

As I said, Gaiman uses your Sherlock Holmes knowledge against you in constructing this tale. The narrator has a shoulder wound as a result of his wartime experiences, just as Watson does in A Study in Scarlet—the circumstances of his injury are changed to be more fantastical, of course, but we accept that because we have acclimated ourselves to what we think is the whole of this seemingly straightforward premise (Sherlock Holmes, but with Lovecraftian elements). After all, we have the two men meeting in the university laboratory, both interested in sharing rooms, and we get the iconic line, “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.” We get the familiar prospective-roommates-share-vices exchange. It’s not the same as the original, but we don’t read Holmes pastiches for the exact same lines we could get by rereading the original stories. Besides, the exchange hits enough check marks for what we already know about Holmes (since we’re familiar with canon) that instead of the change setting off alarm bells, we’re busy patting ourselves on the back for recognizing references and approvingly nodding in response to Gaiman’s demonstrated knowledge of the stories. After all, Holmes did shoot bullets into the wall once. And he is private and easily bored, and selfish as well at times. These are revelations about Holmes’s character that are shared in later stories, after A Study in Scarlet, but they match the whole of his character that we know since we have the entirety of the canon under our belts, so it’s quite clear to us that this man the narrator meets is indeed Sherlock Holmes.

By condensing the characteristics of Holmes that were originally revealed over the course of several publications into one dialogue exchange, the plot is able to move speedily along while reinforcing our initial understanding of this man’s identity. However, presenting these characteristics in this manner also leads to some contradictions with canon, which means that things are just a little bit off. Holmes is established in later stories as having irregular habits, but in A Study in Scarlet, the specific story that this dialogue exchange is echoing, it’s Watson who “get[s] up at all sorts of ungodly hours.” Here the one who admits to “keep[ing] irregular hours” is the non-soldier, when in A Study in Scarlet Holmes is actually quite regular in his schedule (he doesn’t really maintain that behavior beyond that first story, but still). On a more complex level—and I might be reading too much into this particular point but it is striking to me as someone who has spent several years with roommates—there is the detail that the detective in “Emerald” informs the narrator right off the bat that he will need to use the sitting room to see clients. In A Study in Scarlet, Holmes does not inform Watson of this fact in the initial cross-examination. It’s only after they move in together and Watson starts getting (politely) kicked out of the sitting room on a semi-regular basis that Watson even learns Holmes is a person who has a visiting clientele. This is a rather major thing for a prospective roommate to know. Failing to mention this to Watson while still detailing his smoking habits and propensity for chemical experiments is a rather egregious omission on Holmes’s part, as anyone who has had to get used to a new roommate will tell you. So we have two instances where the information about the detective matches our overall conception of Holmes, but it is presented in a way that goes directly in opposition to how it was originally presented in canon—where what we are reading is both right and wrong at the same time.

Let’s continue on in the story. Our “heroes” move into the same old apartment on Baker Street, which further solidifies the straightforward Holmes in a Lovecraftian world explanation we as readers have formulated for the story. We go through the same “narrator wonders what his mysterious roommate does for a living” steps that we remember from A Study in Scarlet, albeit, again, condensed. And the mystery plot begins as the two roommates eat breakfast, just as in that very first story.

Keen readers might take note of the fact that it is Inspector Gregson, not Inspector Lestrade, who brings the mystery in A Study in Scarlet to Holmes’s attention. Considering that Lestrade made more appearances in the canon and became Holmes’s default police contact, Lestrade’s presence here can simply be chalked up to Gaiman paying homage to the whole of the canon, not just the first story. Alternatively, this is yet another instance of things being ever so slightly wrong when compared to the events we are all familiar with.

You’ll notice that, having successfully (because on first read you are likely not reading as critically as I am now with this analysis) lulled us into a false sense of security regarding the premise of this story and the identities of its characters, Gaiman starts to drop more references to other specific stories besides A Study in Scarlet, as well as more direct hints (which require much less complex analyzing than I have done in previous paragraphs) as to who our narrator and his detective friend truly are.

The first* direct hint is so subtle that I don’t think I even picked up on it the first time I read the story. It’s when Lestrade suggests he talk to the detective privately. The content of the exchange is, once again, familiar to a Sherlock Holmes reader—how many times have we seen Holmes assure a client that Watson can be confided in just as well as himself (see: “A Case of Identity”), or refuse to let Watson excuse himself as a case begins to unfold (see: “A Scandal in Bohemia”)? The hint lies in the description of the narrator’s friend when he dismisses Lestrade’s suggestion: “his head moved on his shoulders as it did when he was enjoying a private joke.” Gaiman can’t show his hand too early, so this hint is extremely oblique. The key is the phrasing: “his head moved on his shoulders” is a rather odd and roundabout description, which could much more easily be rendered as “he shook his head” or something to that effect. But in using this wording, Gaiman ever-so-lightly echoes the description of a certain someone a couple pages into “The Final Problem”:

His shoulders are rounded from much study, and his face protrudes forward, and is for ever slowly oscillating from side to side in a curiously reptilian fashion.

We have some more general Easter egg references to the canon—the detective’s slight dissatisfaction when someone (Lestrade in this case) remarks on the simplicity of his reasoning after it is explained, and the Study in Scarlet-specific “only one in the world” consulting detective explanation. And then we have this terrific bit. Our narrator asks the detective if he really wants him to come along. The detective’s response is as follows:

“I have a feeling that we were meant to be together. That we have fought the good fight, side by side, in the past or in the future...from the moment I clapped eyes on you, I knew I trusted you as well as I do myself.”

It’s terrific because it’s a summation of how Holmes and Watson are viewed by their fans. They belong together. Victorian London, World War II, 21st century New York, 22nd century London, as mice, as dogs, we’ve seen them in countless adaptations, and despite the change in locale or era or gender or species or countless other circumstances, they are always inseparable, always a force unto themselves, incomplete without the other. Of course this is Holmes and Watson. How could these words apply to anyone else?

The detective’s speech here appeals to our Holmes devotee sensibilities much more than canon Holmes’s response to Watson asking much the same question in A Study in Scarlet:

“You wish me to come?”

“Yes, if you have nothing better to do.”

Which is a rather unexceptional start to a partnership for the ages. The way “Emerald” tugs at the heartstrings, however, is dangerous—it pulls us further down into acceptance of the twisted world and characters that surround us.

*I will come back to this in a later post!

#sherlock holmes #a study in emerald #a study in scarlet #neil gaiman #analysis #in depth

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dropsofletters · 4 years

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risk another goodbye

title: risk another goodbye pairing: chae hyungwon/reader genre: ex!au/strangers to lovers!au/app!au summary: Her phone recommends her this app to help others break up with their partner, and it sounds absolutely like the worst idea she could ever have, but it’s the most interesting one at the moment. The problem starts when she breaks up with a guy on behalf of his girlfriend only to realize that he is not bad looking and he’s pretty funny…she wonders, though, how could someone break up with Chae Hyungwon? type: angst/fluff/romance/humor word count: 16,257 disclaimer: this is part of my august special called ‘the anti-love club’. each story can be read individually, however, you’d be getting a little bit more of backstory along with some easter eggs if you read each of them, as well as helping me with support. the masterlist can be found here.

The collision of sunrays against her hair, long flowery dress and her moving lips should be bright—it should make her feel nourished, but instead, with each moment that passes with a tight smile on her face and her hands frantically moving to push her subject across, she knows no amount of sunshine could brighten the faces of the teenagers in front of her. Uninterested, they clearly are, some looking down at their hidden phones, others simply nodding at whatever she says and when she asks for answers to specific motivational questions, ones that she had learned in her few years in the field, the replies are short. This shouldn’t make her fidgety—more than usual—but to be unheard is one of the feelings that she still doesn’t get used to when she is supposed to be motivating these high school seniors to be the best version of themselves.

But who really is the best version of themselves? Not even herself, a whole motivational speaker.

Normally, she likes to believe she is a happy person. Somewhat smiley, likes getting out of the bed and meet up with someone of her preference simply to feel like she is alive, finds comfort in people and in her atmosphere—her job, in which she always has to look at the positive, not giving herself the time to think about the negatives in her life. Breathing should be enough, being healthy should be enough, but sometimes she seeks for something else. A new look, maybe, perhaps a new outlook in life, something that is not talking all the time but actually listening. Sometimes, she’d rather have the world go quiet, slower, much unlike what she seeks for in her daily life. Always fidgety, jumping at her feet, blaming herself if being too lazy and moving on to the next person to motivate. If she could do it, anyone else could.

Do what exactly? She has no idea. Perhaps, have a job that she likes, heels clicking on the flooring as she grabs a few students and makes them trust one another. Ah, that—she has friends that she can trust, and perhaps a rent that gets paid, some student loans that eventually will disappear into the thin distance if she keeps this going, working in making people better. She doesn’t have a car, but she has the will to move back from whenever she is to her home and she has warm food in her stomach most of the time. What she doesn’t have, however, is that energy that usually comes from beneath her, and while her limbs are moving the majority of the time, hating nothing more than to be still, and it is all thanks to…a break-up.

Yes, the motivational speaker, endlessly happy woman that is telling students to seek for nothing more than the brightness beneath themselves had broken up with her boyfriend of seven years not too long ago. Three weeks, four days, seven hours…probably twenty minutes.

Sometimes, she’d rather have the will inside of her to not smile, to frown and tell all these people that no one has it figured out. That no one, no enthusiastic person, can take away their opportunity of living their lives without always being optimistic—sadness shall be felt, cured, kissed until it healed, it shall be a badge to be proud of when it’s done for instead of being pushed into the back of someone’s head, but that is exactly what she does. Three weeks, four days, seven hours, twenty-one minutes, this relationship doesn’t have to matter.

At some point, the talk is over. She has given enough bullshit for these guys, with quotes from people who also didn’t have anything sorted out in their lives, for it to be over. Almost like a balloon deflating at the sound of the recess bell, she lets the breath she was holding let go on her chest, the threads and knots on her lungs suddenly popping open, hands going towards the desk of the teacher on charge at the moment—the literature teacher, to be exact, one that she knows perfectly well and that immediately rests her palm on the expanse of her back.

“I told you not to do this.”

Moving, she always is, so the position changes rapidly, fingers fidgety as she speaks. “Seola, I’m fine.” She tells her, as always making it seem like everything is sorted out. That’s what heroes do, they put on their capes and have the world relying on the fact that they’d never be weakened. The woman with the short hair and similarly short height shook her head at her antics. “It’s just the lack of response—that’s all. I spoke and spoke and spoke, no one paid attention. It’s okay, this happens—”

Seola interrupts her by pushing a water bottle towards her hands, rolling her eyes at her hyperactive friend’s antics. “You know it’s not,” Seola says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t care if some students don’t pay attention to you. You love talking all this psychology stuff and how much optimism has changed your life.” The tone of her friend’s voice downs her into a reality that she has been trying to avoid. Three weeks, four days. Three weeks, four days. Three weeks and four days without him. Optimism has been long gone, knowing to the best of her abilities that if the person that had stayed with her for seven years was unable to make it work with her, then she could not even last in any other relationship. “Really, there’s nothing wrong in accepting you’re not seeing the bright side of things for once. Talk to me.”

It’s in the way that she speaks, Seola, that shows exactly that she has a nice group of friends, a nice life…things that she should be grateful of. Even a nice boss, for all heaven’s sake, and she still has the right to complain about some break-up. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey—”

“It’s nothing.”

Seola’s patience runs short, clear as day, when she takes her by the wrist and lowers her to look into her eyes. The monotone voice of hers speaking nicely, even through her clear distress. “Breaking up with Tsubasa is exactly what needed to happen. Your relationship was toxic since years ago, you’d take breaks and then get back together, only to break up again. You two were tied down into getting back to the same routine, that would kill any kind of relationship.” The death of hers had hit her like a ton of bricks, knowingly so, and she had been the one to break it off. In between an argument, sure, and possibly thinking of all these motivational speeches about ‘letting go of the bad to look for something better’, and she had uttered it in a yell. The words still repeat in her head: I want to break up with you and never see you again. “…I get why you’re heartbroken because you spent seven years of your life with him, but he’s…not even that much of a guy to cry about.”

Cry, oh, she doesn’t think she has even let herself do such a thing. Restrained, positive, as she should be, she simply has continued on with her life as if nothing had happened. Cleaning her apartment spotless, making sure that there will never be a sign of her relationship, of the kisses or the fights, of the happiness and the disappointment alike. “I haven’t cried about him,” She states, wanting to make clear that this is no reason for her to be sad. “Seola, I mean it, I’m just…getting used to it, that’s all. Since I don’t have that constant responsibility by my side, I’m feeling a bit empty, that’s all.”

The woman in question fixes the rounded glasses on her face. “Are you sure about that?”

She nods rapidly, but not in a rush. “Of course. Nothing that can’t be filled with a girl’s night.”

The serious Seola seems to perk up at that, probably a bit freer now that graduation was approaching for her students and grading tests has become less of her priorities. “I really need one of those, too.” She speaks softly, letting out a chuckle as she helps the woman clean up her materials before she has to leave. “Do you think you can make it tonight? Our entire group should reunite in your apartment in celebration of your break-up.”

Celebration. That’s what it should be to finally be set free of an uptight relationship with none other than the man that had probably quickened the stage of getting white hairs in her life. “…I’ve got nothing to do, of course I can make it tonight.”

“Good,” Seola says, now nearing her to speak in a whisper. “I’d kill for some beers right now. This year’s class has been a headache.”

She laughs at that, cradling her textbooks near her chest before tilting her head to the side. “In any other occasion I would have told you that you always get headaches, but this group really is difficult.”

“So, beers?”

“Yeah, I could buy a few, you can pay me back for it later.”

“Excellent.”

Hours later, the sound of two of your friends huffing on the floor, drunken beyond reparation at this point, but still working out incessantly is the least of her worries. Seola and Miwoo are the ones doing push-ups on her flooring, possibly shouting the numbers louder than they should, probably on the verge of having her neighbors call her out for the noise. Doah, however, the least drunk of her friends, is now waiting for an application to stop downloading on her phone—she asked for it and she had given her to Doah, far more preoccupied on the root beer she had grabbed on her way to buying alcohol, looking at it swirling on the bottle she has been sipping on for the past half hour, thoughts loud even when she is accompanied.

She should be happy, thankful even, that her friends have stayed with her through thick and thin. That Miwoo, even when she is a well-known personal trainer, stays with her, the same goes for Seola and Doah, but that is far from the point. The expectations of having her life be bright at all times had made her feel sulky, almost like she can’t get out from this low of her current life. Sip, sigh. Those are the two actions that she has been doing while her friends are having fun and while two of them are too far gone to even notice how heartbroken she is, Doah’s fingers are gliding through her hair, playing with the ends, wanting nothing more than for her sighs to subside or change for relaxed breathing.

She’s alive, that should be enough of an excuse to smile…and she has been alive for the past seven years.

While does it feel like a part of her left, the moment she kicked Tsubasa out of their apartment?

A hundred percent, downloading. That’s what the screen reads when she gives a glimpse towards it, suddenly aware that Doah has stopped playing with her hair and is now looking at the screen with a smile. “Ladies, I’ve found an activity for us to do that doesn’t include getting abs.” She says with glee, Seola showing her gratitude while trying to push Miwoo away from her feet, kneeling down to keep her in place while doing some exercises.

“Thank God, I was about to die.” Seola announces, pushing Miwoo off her body before rushing towards the couch. Happiness, she feels like…though in a small gleam of a shooting star, brief, when Seola’s sweaty hands place themselves on her knees, cheek resting against her thighs as she tries to look at the screen of her phone in Doah’s hands. Miwoo follows soon after, not sweating quite as much as Seola is.

“W—What—?” A hiccup, probably coming from her drunkenness and what characterizes her as her ‘too-much’ gene. “What are we going to do?”

Doah fixes her stance, her black hair tied behind her head with a bun, patting the few baby hairs on the edges to settle them. Settled, just exactly what Doah is, in love with a man that adores her equally, that doesn’t mind a few nights out with her friends, that kisses the ring on her finger whenever they are holding hands and laughs too loudly at their jokes. Maybe, Doah is one of those lucky people who just have everything in life or…she just deserved it. Soft heart, realistic nature, seriousness, all things that describe her. “So, since the youngest of our team has been going through a tough break-up and questioning everything that has to do with life.”

Okay, so perhaps she should have gone for a beer instead of simplistic root beer. “That’s not the case.”

“It is.” Miwoo points out in a slur before nodding towards Doah. “What’s the plan? Strippers?”

“No.” Doah scrunches up her nose with a laugh before showing the screen to all the three women in front of her. “Break Them Up.” She reads, her phone showcasing an application much like a dating one, instantly showing bars to complete with matters such as name, age, ubication and such. “It’s an app my husband took part of. Basically, it has the mindset of a dating app but what makes it different is that people post pictures of their special someone or pictures of them as a couple and lists the other person’s phone number and the reason as to why they want to break up with them, and it’s up to you to break them up. If you fulfill the mission, you get more points—”

“And you break someone’s heart.” Seola says. “That’s just…mean.”

“It’s life.” Doah finishes, shrugging her shoulders. “Besides, it’d teach her that all people can go through a break-up, and some of them can be even messier than hers.”

Miwoo, preoccupied even when she is drunk, takes a seat on the couch with a huff before looking at her. She hates this, being pitied, as if a part of her had died and they are looking for a way to tell her that she is just a mere ghost now. “Do you want to try it?”

Snatching her phone away from Doah’s grasp, she clicks her tongue. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I take risks in life, of course I’m doing this.”

The cheers that follow soon after are enough to lift her up, tapping her name down along with some necessary information and a few pictures of her. Actually, it’s clear as day that this application was inspired on a dating site.

But the weight is not lifted off her shoulders when she gets her first mission, a couple that has been together for a month and the guy wants to simply tell the girl that it was only meant to be a hook-up. After all, the talk that suffices after texting the girl in question is all about how ‘men will never understand how difficult it is to fall in love with them’ and she agrees. It basically takes a snap of Doah’s fingers and a glide on her next mission for her to coming back to life, to feel like there is purpose here—not breaking up people for the mere satisfaction of doing so, but because she needs to. Toxicity shall come to an end, just like how this mindset of always being in a relationship should have its conclusion in society for one and all. The only thing she needs is remind herself that she is not anyone’s half, not Tsubasa’s, not anyone else’s. She could have anyone she wanted if she put her mind into it, as a complete woman.

It takes a few swipes and some break-ups later for her to feel more at ease and finally come to the latest of the night, at two in the morning at that. The name reads Hyunae and Hyungwon, showing a picture of what seems to be two lanky and tall individuals, though the guy immediately captures her attention. Standing right in front of a café, the two are seen holding each other on their arms, but his thick lips are drawn into a small smile, his eyes turned into upside down C’s out of pure happiness. His face structure and long black hair is already enough to have her smiling, figuring out why in the hell he would want to break up with his equally as gorgeous girlfriend. As it turns out, it is not Hyungwon that wants to break up with Hyunae but the other way around…

“Who would even want to break up with this guy?” She speaks over a whisper, Seola fast asleep in her room, only Miwoo and Doah staying with her in the room. Miwoo is having a glass of water, meanwhile Doah leans forward to capture the picture on the screen, smiling at the couple in it. “He’s mad cute.”

“What’s the reason she wants to break up with him?”

“He’s boring, apparently.”

“Oh my God, of course he’d be boring.” Miwoo breathes out into the thin air, the stench of beer clinging into it. “…So? Text him.”

“…Should I?”

“You’ve texted others. Why can’t you do it now?”

Well, it’s quite a different reason—while most of her life she had been in love with one man, absolutely attracted to the overconfident businessman part of a company she had always wanted to be part of, Tsubasa, this is different. There is that flutter of interest deep in her gut, a flicker of her eyelashes that says she is just absolutely interested in whatever this Hyungwon guy has to offer. Boringness could not be an issue when there is a face like that in the game, and it may be a bad feeling to have…but if breaking him up with his girlfriend doesn’t bring her a bit of hope, she’d be lying.

“That’s right, I can do it.” Convincing herself, her fingers hover over the number and she copies it, placing it down on a text and starting with a simplistic tone. “Hey! I saw your girlfriend posted you on Break Them Up, an application for…well, having people break up with your significant other. I hope you don’t mind me texting you, but Hyunae says she is bored of your relationship with her and wants to break up. Here’s a screenshot, in case you think I’m joking.” Though, guilt settles at the pit of her stomach. If Tsubasa had done something like that, she’d feel betrayed, disgusted, exposed in the worst of ways. This may be the peeking point of her bad ideas—

Sent. Read. Typing.

Hiding her face in her friend’s shoulders, the three dots mock her endlessly. Firstly, all she receives is a short ‘okay’ that does nothing to help the guilt that lingers on her brain. Instead, she watches as he continues to play with his typing tool, because the three dots appear again and again, disappear and appear in what could translate into shock—heartbreak, too.

“…I can’t believe she’d out our relationship like that.”

Pushing her hair away from her face, the beer buzzing up in her body and blurring a bit of her sight when she tries to tie the threads of this conversation. “If it works for you, I’ve also gone through a break-up.”

Little to no silence, he continues, her friends long forgotten in the background, perhaps looking over her shoulder. “Ah, I see.”

“It’ll get better for both of us.” She types.

“How’d you know?” He replies, bringing a soft smile on her features. She doesn’t, that is, maybe it’ll get worse. Maybe, she won’t love again. Maybe, Tsubasa had carved his name on her waist for when he’d wrap his arms around it and sing those oh-so-hatred rock songs that he’d blast early in the morning. Seven years, how does one get over seven years?

With a rebound, that’s how the two of them get over this. If things go right, that is, the buzz is not making her think straight. “You’re not that bad looking. I’m sure you’ll get someone else in the blink of an eye.”

“Haha,” The first response says. “I guess, but it’s not about that.”

“What is it about?”

“Years lost in someone who’d do this to me, I guess.”

“Huh…I get you, in my case it was seven years.”

A moment of hesitation, shown in the way the three dots disappear and soon after, they appear again. “I don’t think I’ve gotten your name. Are you sure you want to share that information with someone equally as heartbroken?”

Giggling to herself and leaning on her back, she lets out a sigh, hearing one of her friends complaining about the lack of information once she moves from their grasps. “I overshare, that’s my thing. Though…you know what? Yes, it’s only fair I share my name.”

And that she does, drunkenly talking to some man and trying her best not to fuck up her grammar along the way, drinking another bottle of beer to feel the liquid go past her throat in courage. Heartbroken, perhaps disheartened at this point, this is still no enough for her not to take risks—much less when there is a handsome, clearly single man that embarks in conversation with her. Soft, not flirty, just…the perfect amount of chill before she feels herself drifting off to sleep, cushions harshly pressed to her back.

###

Her name, spoken through a cheery tone, cuts through the thin air while she reads over her schedule for the week. The morning is tiresome, the long dress over her body clinging to the back of her thighs uncomfortably, trying to remember if she put on mascara on one eye when she had done her makeup…albeit a bit sleepy. This week had consisted of nothing but spending time with her friends, more than simply drinking, but touching the sky in long walks until they reached spots of the city that they didn’t know, or in dinners where speech is not necessary, only the healing atmosphere lingering within her.

That is the reason of her lack of sleep. Earfuls late at night, of gossip and stories she knows about but never gets tired of.

“Yes, Jinhee?”

The woman with a cap placed over her head peeked through her door before opening with a big smile, plush cheeks coated in a layer of peach dust. “Morning.” She says.

A smile appearing on her face, she decides that the heat and the lack of sleep won’t ruin her day. “Good morning, Jinhee. Why do I have the benefit of seeing you so early in the morning?”

Shame, she reads all over her face, not a typical feature to see in an office full of motivational speakers. If anything, all she gets to hear are chants of how good their lives are…and how it could only get better from now on. Bad pasts long gone, not living their ‘happily-ever-after’s’. “Well, uh, you see…you get the benefit to see someone else this morning—”

“Oh, sure. It’d have to be quick, though, I have some talk with an elementary child and his parents, because his teacher expressed he has been unmotivated—”

“Tsubasa is here.”

A man she hasn’t seen in well over two months, one that has her sighing deeply when he appears behind Jinhee, his thin eyebrows lifted in the smile he gives her. Golden skin that matches the bath of sunlight hat gets through her windows, moles that she has kissed over and over again framing his face, thick glasses that he can’t take off for anything moving under his smile. Her name, again, called into the density of such situation when Jinhee slips away, leaving her alone with Tsubasa.

“…Shouldn’t you be at work?”

While resting the flowers he brought with her on her desk, igniting the place in even more colors, she feels like her life is being drained of them. Him, in a suit; her, in a dress. A perfect match, she once had thought, as if their constant break-ups and arguments were normal. As if seeing life like a newspaper—gray, black, white, planned, written, filled with bad news, is what a relationship should feel like. Seven years, a first love, too many nights of wrapping herself up with him that she doesn’t know what could be more loveable than what they had, bad or not. “I was, but I asked for permission to visit you.”

“Then, go back.” She replies, pointing her finger towards her closed door enthusiastically. “You shouldn’t even be here in the first place. I already kicked you out of my life once, don’t make me do it again.”

Though, when he is looking out of her windows, always in need of the Sun to feel like she truly is happy and alive, she doesn’t think anyone will ever fill that void that she dares to call love, just him. Pushing it, that’s what motivational speakers do—to finish the race even if it hurts, to always come at first place, to hold onto the memories and look for something great. He’s the best, though, when his fingers glide across the spot in which she usually kept his gifts at, though not anymore. Needless to say, it has been difficult to get rid of him, and he notices. “You redecorated.”

“Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m just pointing out—”

“Well, yes, some things change.” She doesn’t let him finish, protecting herself knowing that he is never quite as calm as this. They will always collide; him for being intense, her for never accepting that something could go wrong in their relationship. Not everything is about happiness, just like not everything should be about complaining. His back leans against the desk, inspecting her face like the immaculate man he is—serious, calm, relaxed, with a bomb hidden in the depths of his heart.

“I know, but I don’t want you to change.” Tsubasa utters, the long strands of his hair pushed back by some gel, and she has to close her eyes and look away in order not to remember the times in which she’d see him with adoration at the beginning of their relationship, threading her fingers through his hair as he brushed his teeth late at night. Even simplistic things like that had her in love. “…Sure, I shouldn’t have come here without telling you, but today…I was told to find a scriptwriter for one of our commercials, supposed to motivate people to be better, happier.” A shuddering breath follows. “I could only think of you.”

“Out.” She threatens, voice soft when she tries to move towards the door. “I’m trying to forget seven years of us fighting, Tsubasa. I don’t want to just work with you.”

He nears her, hands wrapping around her wrists delicately, looking for her face when his usual cologne engulfs the expanse of her nostrils, up her body, engraved in the area of memory in her brain. “You’ve wanted this forever, though.”

That, he had listened to. The company he works for, a good executive of it to be exact, had been on her wish-list for as long as she could remember. Apart from making a few students feel more confident in reaching their happiness, she wants to do something more. Commercials with short catchphrases and incredible visuals, some of the type that Tsubasa’s company does, ones that could bring people to tears and up their beds to do something for their lives.

But…what is she doing for her life as of now? Accepting every offer that Tsubasa gives her?

Looking at his lips, thin and a bit curved, chapped—he should really drink more water, she used to say—and missing him. Because, once someone constructs a home, it doesn’t matter that the ceilings are falling or that the cushions of the couches dig into their skin so uncomfortably they can’t lay in peace, the only thing that matters, and wrongly so, is that it is…your home.

“I’ve already talked to my boss about you. They want you on the team. Better payment than whatever you get here—” He speaks excitedly, something unlike him, when he smiles at her. Beaming, he is, maybe there is hope within him that she’ll be able to forgive the tears they both shed, the nights in which staying in the same bed felt like being continents apart. “We can get through this, together. We just need time to remember why exactly we fell in love.”

His body shelters the Sun from the windows and what she wants to do right now is impossible. What she would do was she a weaker person would be wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him like nothing ever mattered, as if taking a bite of the prohibited fruit will make her immune to it. Instead, she really ponders on this—he is sheltering her Sun, and he has been doing it for the entirety of their relationship. Vice-versa, too, she is not a saint in this situation. “I can’t.”

Air is pushed towards her face in the form of a scoff. “Yes, you can.”

“I can’t—”

“Stop being stubborn. You’re the first one that says that people can do anything as long as they put their minds into it!”

Her hands push at his chest, the sound of his pristine shoes colliding against his flooring suddenly leaving her in a trance. Panic, that is what it is, she is not used to lying…at least, not in something as specific as that. What is the reason as to why she has redecorated everything, erased him from her life and even denying a good job because she doesn’t want to see him? “I can’t because…” A look around the room, uncertainty, one more word from him and his voice will cut through her soul, leaving her bleeding, needing him more than anything in the world. “…Because I have someone else, and I know you’ll get angry because of this.”

The world doesn’t shatter—not for her, but for Tsubasa it seems to. His jaw tightens, eyes squinting before rolling them subsequently. “Right, yeah, you have a new man. You expect me to believe that?”

Certainty is what he speaks, as if he is so sure she can’t get a new man…and sure, it is not a reality, but it could damn well be if she simply let go of him. “Believe it, Tsubasa. I could call my man just about now to be a polite and nice civilian to show you exactly what a real person is.”

Thick breaths, tension, one step closer, two of them at that when he takes her phone from her desk and pushes it towards her hand before nodding. “…Call him, then. Tell him to speak up if he’s so brave.”

Well, fuck.

She really thought her hot-headed, quite reserved ex-boyfriend would accept her humongous lie.

Fingers hovering over her screen, they rush to find whatever number does not belong to a friend of hers, is a man’s set of digits and could potentially have her ex-boyfriend convinced that she is seeing someone else. “And video-call, too. I want to see him.”

“I don’t owe you any explanations, I don’t know why I am even doing this.”

Tsubasa’s fingers press his glasses up on his nose, chuckling shortly at her words, though a smile does not appear on his features. “Because it’s a lie?”

“He’s not.” She finishes, pressing on the last contact she sees in her hunt and bringing the device up her face. Tsubasa appears beside her in the matter of seconds, praying that the person on the screen doesn’t think she is an absolute insane woman once he picks up.

“Your new boy is taking a bit longer than anticipated.”

“Some people work, you know?”

“Sure. What’s his job?”

Answerless, for Tsubasa has always been smart, too smart for his own good, reason as to why he has such a nice position in his job and why he frowns when he sees Hyungwon splayed on her screen, squinting his eyes at the scenery in front of him and pushing his plump lips in a line. He’s confused, quite a bit taken aback, and she realizes now that some drunken conversation is clearly not the necessary subject for her to be calling him (clarification: video-calling him) in the middle of the morning, with her ex-boyfriend by her side, nonetheless. “Hello, Hyungwon. Are you busy right now?”

“Kind of…I’m on my aperitive break.” Aperitive break? Who even has those? “But…yes, I am free now, nice to see you. What can…I help you with?” Hesitation on his face is quite the sight, much more when he wraps those rosy lips around the straw of what seems to be his iced coffee. Before she could answer, however, Tsubasa speaks over her.

“I’m her ex-boyfriend and she’s been meaning to tell me you’re her new guy. Is that true?” He asks, panic filling her body when she sees Hyungwon widening his eyes, looking at her, then at him, then back at her. His body is frozen for a few seconds, or maybe the connection failed on her, she is not sure anymore.

Hyungwon’s finger is at the perfect timing to simply swipe his finger over the red button on the red of the screen and forget this moment even existed. Instead, he pushes a bit of his sandwich inside his mouth, the sound of a child speaking in the fair distance taking her off guard. Does he have children…or…? “Y—Yes.” Through a mouthful of food and with flushed cheeks, he answers. “That would be me.”

Tsubasa frowns at this, instead continuing with the conversation. “Huh, how so? How did you meet her?”

“Tsubasa, you’re my ex, not my dad. Stop—”

“…Dating apps?” Hyungwon almost chokes on his food when he says this, even surprising himself and she tries her best not to show her surprise at how good this is going.

“You tried dating apps?” Her ex asks.

“…After we broke up, I guess.” Lie. If anything, she only tried that break-up app in which she had discovered Hyungwon in…but who is Tsubasa to know that?

With fingers threading through his black hair and his gray hoodie pooling around the edges, Hyungwon cuts through the dense air. “Hey…uh, dude, my guy, whoever you are…I’d be thankful if you just left her alone?” The uncertainty in his tone must have gone unnoticed by Tsubasa, who turned to look at the camera with anger. This is what she gets for lying, more lies to keep on the long run. “Yeah, leave her alone. It’s over between you two.”

Pointing towards her door before opening it with the same hand, she hums. “Out you go, Tsubasa.” Though, it pains her to see the expression on his face, one that reads betrayal. Though not together, their story is difficult to get rid of…and lying to him feels like a part of her body is being plucked away so slowly that it is difficult to breathe. “…Sorry.” She whispers when she sees the man pass by, the door closing in front of her eyes with a loud bang and the memory that she never meant to break his heart.

But it’d be good for them.

Being away is the only way they can be happy, even when it doesn’t seem like it.

“Was that sorry for me or…?” Hyungwon’s deep and soft-spoken tone cuts through her thoughts, making her look up towards the camera, smiling at him briefly before nodding her head.

“Yes, sorry…” She trails, moving towards her desk and sitting down, releasing that one breath that had caged inside her, trapping her as its slave. “He came back to offer me some job…but I needed to decline. I don’t want to work around him.”

Understanding, he seems to be, nodding his head when he plays with the edge of his straw. “He didn’t seem too nice. What did you see in him?”

It’s small talk and yet, she can’t help but chuckle at this. Leaning her head back while still keeping her phone straight, the Sun almost burning her pupils but she enjoys the feeling of being warm, with him, in solitude, however way it comes. Opening up to him comes easily, a stranger that she likes to talk about for the sake of feeling like she can still capture the attention of someone handsome, seven years after being absolutely off the dating radar. “He gets what he wants. He always did. I needed someone who…would not be afraid to take risks.” She almost wants to laugh at the reminder as to why he had captured her attention. “I’ve known him for almost all my life, he’s a sweet guy…we just don’t work well together. We’re the type of people that fix things. I think I can’t ever live through sadness…” The truth spills her lips, well-aware that her obsession with happiness is only hurting her, and she doesn’t even look at Hyungwon’s expression when she speaks about her reality. “And he’d do anything to get to where he wants. It’s not like that in relationships…you can only fix something so much until it gets broken permanently.”

The deep words have Hyungwon sighing, looking down when she chooses to look at him. This is how they are, reaching but never holding, simply speaking to a stranger, wanting to take the risk of being vulnerable. “…It was the opposite with my ex and I,” He says. “The first time I met her, she was one of those models in stores. The ones that sit by the windows and showcase clothing while pretending to be mannequins. I really bought her entire outfit simply to get her attention.” Laughter, maybe he had enjoyed that day, but it dies down quickly when he shakes his head, instead his eyes filled with longing when he looks up at her. “…And when she asked: ‘Who are you giving this to?’. That outfit, that is. I could only think of her so I said ‘you’.”

Her lips quirk up in a small smile at that, warmed by the gesture. “That’s sweet.”

“She wanted those kinds of gestures throughout the relationship, though. It was draining, in a way…” Hyungwon mumbles, breathing through his nose with those same babbles of children in the background. “I enjoy quietness, simply talking and enjoying everything in simplicity. I don’t need to show someone I love them by doing extravagant things.”

“Right.”

“…Sorry, am I oversharing?”

“I love to listen, don’t worry.” She replies, pushing her elbows against the desk, digging deeply into the crevices of her skin with its rough wood. “I understand, in a way, I really do.”

“How?”

“The last few years of my relationship with Tsubasa, my ex, were…all about screaming, arguing…all of the like.”

“Oh.”

Once again, a weird metaphor comes up to her brain, typical of her moments of motivational speaking. “It reminds me of this one washing machine I have in my apartment. That thing is rusty, but I ask for it to be fixed every time. I can’t get rid of it…it came with the house and I really do think I can fix it, even when it screeches like a wild animal when it is washing my clothes.” The sweet laughter that escapes his lips, melodious to listen to, brings a smile to her face when she looks at her clock and sees that it is about time for her to leave to her first speech of the day. “I need some quiet. Getting rid of my relationship, getting rid of my washing machine—”

“We can be quiet together.” He prompts, before shaking his head at the sound of his voice. “Oh, shit, my bad, I probably sounded—”

“No.” She says. “We can be quiet together.”

###

The waltz of the morning is eventful, once again followed by a motivational speech for her. She tries to feel more at ease—happier, because working with kindergarteners with a frown on her features is not exactly what she should be doing. The walls are painted in colors of yellow and blue, the small classroom taking her off guard when she takes a glimpse from the windows outside, watching the number of teachers that are oh-so-gladly talking to their students about the next section of their day. Small, they are, probably not a day over five years old, with attentive looks on their faces that could not match the ones that she normally gets from older students, all in distaste or disinterest in her rants about a happy life.

Well, they are older…and life has always taught that the older someone gets, the more is expected from them; hence happiness is a benefit rather than a necessity. To her, happiness needs to be a certainty, because the chirping of birds still exists, along with her group of friends; there are people in this world that had it worse than her and still, she gets to complain. Heartbroken, she feels, though she doesn’t look like it—always thinking of Tsubasa; if he has eaten or not, if he is sleeping soundly now that she is not in the picture.

The door opens in a swish, present reuniting with past and bringing her back to her reality. After knocking on the door, she had stood and waited to let her in, grasping her bag in between her fingers, moving back and forth, unable to stay in place—quite a lot like her—. The person in front of her, however, is completely still. Serious, even. Soft yet powerful, a gush of fresh air when her eyes widen and she inspects his features. Small face marked by prominent lips, long—longer than the last time she saw him on that video-call—and black hair framing his features.

Able to forget, she is, when she looks at his features and gets to see a hint of a smile, whispering out his name as if not to disturb the students.

“Hyungwon? You’re a kindergarten teacher?” Part of her had imagined that the wails and babbles of children in the background of their call had come from Hyungwon and his children. Apparently, this is not the case.

Flushed cheeks and a good look at her features, his eyes caress her face in the gentlest of stares when he says. “Yes…You’re the motivational speaker?”

“…Yes,” She adds rapidly. “I mean, it probably makes sense now. I was trying to make you feel better after I was asked to break up with you—”

“It does make sense. Someone can only tell you it’ll be alright about a thousand times before it starts to get suspicious.”

“Good thing I said it nine hundred ninety-nine times.”

Hyungwon chuckles, opening the door wider for her to enter in such a place. The children are already looking at her with curiousness, her eyes taking in each of them. One of them in the front row is eating what seems to be a sandwich, unlike everyone else who is listening intently, crumbs of bread imparted unevenly on top of fluffy cheeks. Another one immediately waves at her, on the end of the row of seats, giving her an eventful smile and surprisingly enough, there is one of them that stands up and clings to Hyungwon’s leg, his long fingers coming down to pat the black head of hair.

“Guys, we should all sit down and listen to our dear friend.”

“Yes, Teacher Hyungwon!” Some say in unison, grinning when Hyungwon moves to the back of the class with his kindergarten student, sitting him down beside him before looking ahead. Whilst she places her bag down on the nearby desk, not forgetting to greet the other teachers, she can’t help but get a bit fidgety under his gaze—curious, he is, and it has only downed on her that this complete stranger is not one in its entirety.

Speaking comes easier from then on, rambling just like how she knows how to do, capturing the attention of the little children that help her out along the way, asking them questions, making them play around in order to have more trust in themselves and others. Interactive would fall short as a word for what she is doing and how gratifying it feels to be heard, for once and for all, speaking as quickly as she does, as invested in the nature of making others feel better, even when she is not feeling her best.

The impossibility of leaving is palpable when some of the students beg her to stay, even more after she had a connection with them, wanting her to take part on their lunch time. That’s how she finds herself near the window, magnet of everything that has to deal with the Sun, knees bent under the small table, plopping a bit of rice in between her lips. The students are talking to her happily, more than glad to have a ‘teacher’ that is just as hyper as they are, barely able to stand in one place without moving to the other. They ask and ask and ask, never getting tired of her and it’s the most heart-warming thing that has ever had the opportunity to cross her path in the last few months.

If she is not counting the man that moves towards her with sure steps, sitting across from her with his own plate of lunch, his tall and lean body barely captured under the comprising stance of the table in which she is seated at. Hyungwon gives her a shy smile, one of those that lift the apples of his cheeks and make him look quite awkward, though their silence lasts a short amount of time when they both call each other’s names, laughing at their own antics.

With him, it feels natural to simply be…shameful. It feels as though she doesn’t have to worry about the world because with him alone, she’s able to forget about the things that fly around her head in matters of worry. This is exactly what she needs, kaleidoscopes of images forgotten in the back of her brain.

“I meant to ask you—” She stops herself for a moment when one of the children feeds her a spoonful of rice, and this feels exactly how young parents are probably like. They can’t even speak without having one of their children interrupting them. “How is it that you ended up being a teacher?” She asks, earning a glance from Hyungwon that simply shrugs his shoulders.

His fingers go to help one of the younger students eat, doing motions with his mouth to represent chewing, and the little one understands perfectly. This kind of relaxed, laidback mindset of his is intoxicating, in a way that she can feel herself smiling just from his sight alone. “I don’t know.” He explains. “One day…I had to be an adult, and I had to pick something to do. Part of me knew that society is already difficult on its own, so I wanted to go to the root of it all.” His words are a bit jumbled, as if he’s embarrassed of what he is saying, mouth parting in a small smile when he feeds some more to this one student. “Children are the future, so if I can make children be educated, kind, nice to one another…intelligent but not pretentious about it, then I’ve already done something good for society.”

Warmed by her words and finding the logic in the thread of thoughts that had gone through his mind when choosing his career, she hums. “That’s…smart. I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Bad teachers make bad students.” He answers, looking over at her while he holds his hand under the boy’s chin. “Ria, eat your food, please. Stop playing with it.” He softly says to one of the students across from him, earning a giggle and a sigh from himself. “What about you? What was the reason behind being a motivational speaker?”

Understanding, that’s what he is. She hates herself for looking at him with stars in her eyes, studying the hoodie over his body and how his hair grazes against it, watching the calm look on his features and the moisture of his lips, a ghost of a kiss passing through her head. Attraction that comes with liveliness, this fleeting air that makes her feel weightless. Lightweight, and ready to be caught. “I was always a hyper girl,” She says. “People used to say: “use that word for something, use those mannerisms to inspire people!” and I thought that was the road that I had to take.” Playing around with her rice and the egg on top of it, she takes another bite before sighing. “It reminds me to be happy, too.”

Hyungwon’s eyes soften at that, nodding his head along with her. “Happiness is the goal, yes.”

“Do you think…?” Her voice comes short when she tries to think of her question. “Do you think I do a great job at motivating people?”

His eyes crinkle at that, a smile that she has never seen from him when he frantically nods. “You are the one that has inspired me to get over my ex.”

“And vice-versa.” She says, pointing at him before Hyungwon presses his lips together, the sound of wails cutting the atmosphere like scissors going over paper. He stands up immediately, just at the same time that she does. “Let me help you.”

“…Are you sure you have nothing else to do today?” He asks mindfully, walking and hearing the sound of her footsteps beside him, aware of him when he kneels to pick up the child that is crying, talking to them through a soft tone. “Hey, hey, easy. You dropped your food; we can get you some more.” He speaks, finding the Sun in him when he stands in front of said window. Tall, he is, but he doesn’t cover the Sun, rather radiates with it, shines a light that leaves her astounded.

Surely, he is handsome…but something about him is inviting, calming, everything that she hasn’t had in the last seven years with— “I probably won’t have any other day like this with you, so let me prolong it a bit.”

Hyungwon chuckles at that, patting the student’s back while he speaks to her. “You don’t have to think like that.”

“Why?”

Awkwardness, he always radiates such thing when he is ashamed—or maybe, embarrassed. She notices that, moving back and forth on the heels of her feet, always moving, needing to go to the next thing, think of the next subject before coming blank. Staying quiet is never her thing, but it seems to be his. “We could definitely see each other again if you wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” She asks.

“I’d love to have some meal with you without sitting by a table I can’t even sit by, so…yes?” Joy overtakes her, lips moving along with her throat to let laughter caress the air in between the two. “If you want to, of course.”

Letting go, oh, what a precious thing to be thinking about when she utters out a small: “Huh, I was thinking the same thing, maybe we should make it happen.”

###

This street will always hold the melody of Hyungwon’s voice, walking by her side, a reminder that comes from that day at the kindergarten classroom in which she realized that, when walking back to her home, Hyungwon takes the same route. Nowhere nearby, they live, but close enough that it’s a ten-minute walk…and they’d meet if only their schedules lined up.

But now, when the Sun is barely hiding and the sky is in its rosy tint, Hyungwon is walking by her side. Waited, he had done, even when it had taken her a good hour and a half to get there, meeting up with him thanks to her rushing and loud strides against the sidewalk. A few distractions happen on the way home, whatever way shown in the way they are holding onto cotton candy, eating happily while having cheerful conversations.

She had gotten to know a bit about Hyungwon, enough for her to think of him as a daydream. Lover of coffee, definitely not one to think heavily of the future but he enjoys his present, he’s strict but deep behind all that, he’s kind. Retorts and remarks are often with him when he has something to say and oh, he’d live for some gossip but wouldn’t even be able to confess it if she asked him. He moves slowly, almost like he is sleepy when he walks, or that he really wants to meet up with that promise she had given him in the classroom a few weeks ago. To prolong the moment, to not think for the minutes in which they are together.

It’s hard for her to concentrate for long periods of time. Tsubasa knew this, lived with it, sometimes had to explain twice when she blanked out, but what she’d receive was a sigh at most. Hyungwon, however, makes sure to engulf her in enough information for her to catch on, patience at its finest. So different, in a way, and yet a subject of comparison. Sometimes, it’s difficult not to do so and while munching on her cotton candy, the treat dissolving on her tongue while Hyungwon speaks about this one student that had made his heart almost explode out of adorableness, the sound of screeching, shouting, heartbreak seeps through her ears, widening her eyes when she catches the couple that are fighting right in front of some restaurant near her apartment complex.

“Do you think that always happens in relationships?”

Hyungwon tries to look for the source of her question, connecting his gaze to the sight that has made her curious, and he simply puckers up his lips in response. “I don’t know…I’m not sure.” The answer saddens her, continuing her walk along with him even when passing by the couple.

“I used to think that this ‘forever-and-ever’ happens to everyone.” She starts once again, the talk of love nowhere near spoken in between the two. Flirting has happened, but it’s different to talk about a serious outlook of love. “I used to think that I’d find it someday, too.”

Hyungwon brings a slice of the cotton candy up to his lips, reddening them even more. “You can’t be certain it won’t happen. You’re still young.” And with that promise alone, she lifts her gaze, her steps becoming slower the more she nears her apartment complex.

“What about you? Do you think it will happen to you?” She complies, memories ever so precious of him being held the moment he stands in front of the building that meets her home, taking his last bite of cotton candy before sighing deeply.

“…Maybe…” He tells her, a faint smile appearing on his features when he lifts his eyebrows. “Are you curious?”

“Maybe.” She mocks his tone, taking the small papers that held the cotton candies they had and trashing them in a bin nearby before returning towards him. Hyungwon’s eyes, looking at her for a goodbye, have her fidgeting more than usual, playing with the edge of her shirt, tightening her fingers, unleashing them from their hold and finally, saying something. “It’s up to you if something happens…in that case…” She tries to hint, looking at him and comparing him in every way possible. He’s skinnier, taller, definitely different from Tsubasa. He’s not a man that she has known for her entire life, but someone that she barely knows…and that’s thrilling on its own, exciting, enough to set her ablaze because, for a second, she thinks she sees interest in his eyes.

Is that good? Perhaps, it’s bad to let go, it’s bad to look for someone else and want to feel loved under the gaze of another person. It’s bad enough that Hyungwon nears her, hand hovering over her waist before pressing down on it. Different, this is different, and that is exactly what she needs. To feel like the Sun is burning her, but in the best of ways, even when it is long into the night. “One step at a time, though.” He says. “…I want to ease into this.”

“Me, too.” She replies, fisting the fabric of his shirt and bringing him towards her, the movement of her dress against her legs the only motion that reminds her this is not a freeze frame. She counts his eyelashes, the faint gleam on the tip of his nose, his thick lips that she had wished to kiss from the moment she saw him in a picture with his ex. She chuckles at that, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Is it too quick for me to say I really like you, though?”

“Depends.” Hyungwon tilts his head to the side, playing with a strand of her hair with his free hand. “Is it too quick for me to say I want to kiss you?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t kiss me after implying that.”

His face leans forward, enough for her to look into his eyes just as they look down at her lips. “I don’t know…�� He teases, giggling at his own words before resting a brief kiss on her lips. “Is that enough?”

Looking for gravity, she wraps her arms around his neck. This feeling is exactly what she has been looking for, to be clouded in someone’s hold to the point she couldn’t even think of anything else. The weighty feeling of him when she presses his lips into his, this time in a soft yet not so fleeting manner, is enough to have butterflies appearing on the depths of her stomach, but not enough to feel her heart combust in absolute delight. She’d get used to this, to the glide of his lips against hers that is different from anything else she has ever had. He’s delicate, with purpose, but not completely on the loving stance. If anything, it feels like dipping a finger into the ocean.

Though, the feeling of the soft muscles of his back contracting when she runs her fingers over them is enough to have her smiling against the kiss, but diving in once again. In reality, this is better than she could have expected, only pulling away when the security guard by the door opens it widely, clearing his throat with poise.

“Are you entering, Miss?”

While still holding onto Hyungwon, his hands searching anywhere else but her body, she speaks in a sweetened tone towards him. “I don’t know, Hyungwon. Are we entering?”

“W—We…?” Hyungwon asks softly, seeing the big traces of a smile on her features when relief washes over his body. “Yes, we are.”

His fingertips slot in between hers, holding her lazily while they enter the building, a reminder for her to get used to the differences between the past and the future.

It takes a man to forget another, as it seems.

###

In the blink of an eye, it becomes difficult to even imagine a time in which Hyungwon isn’t in her head.

His students asking for her, her friends that couldn’t stop talking about her ‘cute and mysterious’ boyfriend, and most importantly, the amount of times she has to push the thought of him into her life simply to feel like she has someone to look forward to, a source of happiness that she should get attached to. Even when he is right in front of her, the Japanese restaurant packed with different individuals, all chatting with excitement, she can only keep thinking of him. Maybe, this is exactly what she needed, to have someone else that makes her feel…alive.

Different, he has always been, in the way he holds her with such simplicity but still looks at her with all the intent. Never falling apart, just calmly letting the breeze direct their paths together, enjoying nothing more than the time they get to spend together. Sometimes, it surprises her that there is not even the slightest of turbulence with Hyungwon, now seated in front of her and tipping his head back to down a bit of the wine they had ordered with their meal.

If happiness is this, the way his face contorts with the sweet taste before giving a smile to her, then she wants to be able to forget everything. The burning sensation of his plump lips passing across her skin feels right, but it isn’t called love for any of them.

Letting go has been the meaning of their relationship, how it developed even from the littlest of actions. Attraction, it is, the calmness of him bringing her to a sense of peace, but comparing each other seems to be the root of their upcoming issues. Pasts of previous relationships are what translate into their motions, blurring their judgements of each other. Someone’s favorite color is one thing, but the way they touch the other is the same way they reached for someone else. It’s difficult to get used to another body, to threaten to erase every bit of attachment in order to grow another root of love.

It doesn’t work like that.

“Drink slower,” She tells him, her chopsticks picking a bit of sushi in between them. The Japanese restaurant they went to is common for them, one of the many take-out meals that they have, the decorations on the ceilings golden, the rug in a dark shade of green, the trees bringing a sense of naturality even when they are inside. “The wine is not going anywhere.”

“We paid a lot of money for this wine, better enjoy it.” Hyungwon adds, leaning forward on his table before biting down on his bottom lip. His eyes scan her features, as if he wants to know the clouds of tiredness that fall under her eyes like the palm of his hand, or because he simply wants to forget every mole and trace of blemish that kisses her skin. “Did I tell you that I love when you wear that dress?”

A black dress, thin strapped dress that touched the ground softly, layered on top of a white t-shirt, that’s what Hyungwon is looking at, along with the pendant with his initial that wraps around her neck. When he said he was attentive yet quiet, he meant it. “You say that about every other dress.”

“…I don’t, stop.” Hyungwon comments, taking a bite of his own order of sushi and she smacks her lips in disbelief.

“I’m starting to believe you’re really fake.”

“I’m not the type to say I like something when I don’t.” And she knows this, one of the things she knows about Hyungwon, but no matter how much she scavenges for the little bits that make her feel like she’s in love with him, it has never happened. Likewise, for Hyungwon, the words had never left his lips and while adoration is there, it’s not exactly love they are working with. “You know what? I’m going to have more wine, considering we’re walking back.”

“I’ll have to drag you back to your place, though. Drink slower.” She retorts, a smile on her features when she leans forward and rests a soft kiss on his lips. “If only you had me like that wine.” She flirts, earning a chuckle from Hyungwon.

“…Spending lots of money on it and drinking it in one go because I have to make sure every penny it’s worth it?”

“Don’t ruin the moment.” Another brief peck is pressed against her lips before she sits back down on her seat, fixing the chopsticks in between her fingers when patting them against the plate. “Man, I really missed having some time with you. All I’ve been thinking this week is how I need to have some sushi with my boyfriend.”

“Jinhee is finally getting to your nerves.”

“People rarely get on my nerves, because I’m mostly the annoying one in the relationship.” She answers quickly, looking up at him for a brief second as if searching for an answer before giving another bite to her food. “But, man, this one student in one of those classes I went to was really testing it with me.”

“What did he say?” Hyungwon asks, interested.

“Hear this,” She starts. “Why are we supposed to feel motivated when you, yourself, must feel unmotivated from time to time?”

“He’s got a point.”

“I’m always happy!” That same fronting issue that goes on inside her heart burns at Hyungwon’s lips when he speaks out.

“You shouldn’t push yourself to always be happy.” He tells her, hand reaching forward until he squeezes the skin gently. “But…I’ll make sure you keep that sentence alive. You’ll always be happy.”

Warmth, heightening more and more as Hyungwon keeps drinking, only a few sips given by her and by the time an hour and a half has passed of the two eating, now enjoying desserts of their own, Hyungwon is drunken. His head is tilted back, the expanse of the elongated part of his body blossoming with a few reminders of the kisses she had pressed and marked there early on the week. His hair falls on top of his eyes, suddenly babbling more than he would, the quiet one of the relationship generally, a perfect listener until now, he wants to talk about everything.

Like her favorite movie, or the way her laugh sounds when she is really into a joke he tells. Things that he seems to remember about her, reminiscent of them perfectly the more he loses himself in his drink. When she finally pries the cup away from his hands, however, her boyfriend leans his weight forward and chuckles with his entire teeth, those crevices that she loves forming under his eyes when he clearly is trying to look cute in her book.

And maybe, it’s working.

And maybe, she can fall in love.

“I still remember our first trip,” But only in a month of being in a relationship, they still have yet to think of a trip. This brings a frown up her features, inspecting the way he grasps her fingers in his hold before placing his soft lips on top of them. Fleeting, like what they have for each other. “We went to…your family’s house,” Yet, Hyungwon had never gotten to know her family. “And I got to see that little room of yours. It was so cute.”

“Hyungwon, that didn’t happen.”

Soberness doesn’t overtake him, but he squints at her before chuckling a bit more awkwardly, resting his head against the table in his drunken state. “Right…” He whispers, looking up at her whilst his chin digs into the wooden material of the table. “I’d love to meet your family, though.”

A rebound, that is what she is, because Hyungwon is thinking of such a memory with adoration—confusing it with her in the line that they have traced between their pasts and their present. It only so happens that she can’t get angry at him for this, she can’t simply scold him for…loving someone else, when she doesn’t think she has fully stopped loving someone. Surely, she no longer likes Tsubasa as a person, but the longing deep in her soul will forever carve the name of the person that she had adored for seven years. “I’m sure you would…” She mumbles back, running her fingertips through his hair before sighing. “Were you thinking of Hyunae?”

“…I confused things, sorry.” His rough voice fills the air softly when he holds her hands tightly. “But don’t think I like you any less because of this.”

Like you.

Like.

Like, not love.

Why does that make her feel more at ease?

“You’re so cheerful and happy and loud. So funny, so…given to everyone. Whenever you enter a room, you’re ready to talk and make everything fun and I need that.” Hyungwon answers, looking up at her with glistening eyes before mouthing out a small: “Who would I prefer to be with than with you?”

Probably Hyunae, had she not left him. If everything had gone well with Tsubasa and it had been the first big fight instead of the thousandth one, maybe she’d be with him, too. Not to say she likes Hyungwon less or that she doesn’t sigh in utter happiness when he presses a kiss to her lips or when he laughs in absolute joy. She needs time, she promises herself, to get used to someone else. She’s fearful, perhaps she doesn’t want to be in the end of heartbreak again, to get so sick of love that she seeks for it more. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Hyungwon. You were with her for long, I understand…but we’re moving forward, that’s the good thing.”

He realizes, probably, that she is in the same predicament. Sober, of course, he must have noticed.

Because she can’t let go.

Not completely. She would never go back to Tsubasa, but the memories keep haunting her.

Maybe, she could have done better.

Maybe, Hyungwon will end up fighting with her, too.

…Is love for everyone?

“I’ve already moved forward.” He explains, earning a breathy laugh from her when she slices a bit of his lemon pie, wanting to have a taste in contrast of her passion fruit one.

“We’ll get there, step by step, make memories of our own, you know?” Convincing, she means to sound, even to herself, wanting nothing more than to get rid of the second skin that has been clinging to her, holding her onto something that she isn’t anymore. It will be alright, she promises deep in her brain, relying on her vision to see more of the love of her life in him. “This is just a slip up. We knew it was going to be like this.”

“Right.” Hyungwon nods, curt in the way he tries to do so. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She tells him, wanting to whisper something along the lines of ‘because I also go through the same thing’, needing to forgive herself for not forgetting, but she lets it die in the back of her throat.

Because she’s always happy, and slip-ups are not for her.

###

Trust me, how many times has she said those two words in the last fifteen minutes? A hundred times, probably?

Hyungwon’s apartment has almost become second nature for her to be in, and in between walking together back home, it was a habit to end up in his place. Right now, however, she wishes nothing more than to be able to kick him out of said place—even when she is not supposed to be doing so. Leaning against the sink, she is trying to apply mascara to her bottom lashes, widening her eyes, but eyebrows furrowed in such a way with trembling fingers to control her anger that she doesn’t think she’ll be able to get the makeup right without ruining it even the slightest.

The mirror shows the decency of Hyungwon, the pride of him as he stands in his pajamas by the bathroom’s door, leaning against it with his slim and long arms cradling his chest. His hair is decorating his angry features elegantly, plush lips pressed together, eyes scanning her every action when he finally does her the justice of speaking again, much more than he normally does, all thanks to the slightest thing she had mentioned earlier, just over twenty minutes ago.

“If you wanted to go back to his arms, you just had to tell me.”

He’s not the jealous type, he had once said, and he normally isn’t…but that fear he has of her going back to Tsubasa lingers within him, tickles at that insecurity that he holds in him and now explodes into their argument. Which, speaking of, have become more prominent in their relationship after that sly honeymoon phase. Hyungwon doesn’t like when she speaks too loudly when he’s trying to concentrate on grading tests—for kindergarteners, at that—and she absolutely dislikes the way he simply falls asleep when they try to go out on dates. She has grown more used to watching around his place, the accumulation of memoirs and reminders suddenly making her sick, than spending time with him.

Earlier this week, however, she had gotten yet another offer from Tsubasa’s workplace. This time it was not from Tsubasa, but from some man named Jooheon that was interested in having her in his informercial project. When thinking deeply about it, going to a big company and earning more money is never a bad thing—but to Hyungwon, it’s a clear sign that she is missing Tsubasa, or that he is the one that offered it to her, on the first place.

The latter makes more sense, and it’s the one he holds on to the most.

“Ugh, listen, I don’t want to get back with him. Stop prompting that I do.” She replies, landing her mascara down on her makeup kit with a slam. The mirror welcomes the sight of her, getting ready with a night out with her friends, some club that they wanted her to try out and while in any other day she would have given up a night of dancing to stay at home and watch movies with Hyungwon, this argument is making her want to leave more and more.

His eyes roll, not magically, just because he wants for her to see that he is annoyed. “Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t realize that he is the one that made this Jooheon guy call you?”

She turns around at that, looking up and down his body as if to minimize him. The blue walls of the bathroom feel even more tense the more they stare at each other, all cladded in reminders of Hyungwon. His toothbrush, his hair products, everything that would otherwise have her feeling like she is at home, but now making her feel suffocated. “Hyungwon, stop trying to put me as the cheater here. One, I would never do that to you. Two, he would never do that. I know him—”

“Oh, excuse me, yes, I forget that you’ve known him for your entire life and that you dated for seven years, so I’m always expected to know how he is just so…nice and caring and would never do something like this.” Hyungwon speaks in his low voice, never losing that poise that represents him. “As if he wasn’t the one that pressured you into calling some stranger to see who your new man was—”

“Well, I didn’t complain when you mixed Hyunae up with me. How many times have you thought about her when being with me?”

“I have never.” Though, she can’t believe him, now nearing him, a little bit more of height when she is wearing her heels, breathing deeply when she takes a good glance at his eyes. They are bored, of course he’s never going to show his true feelings. “Just like how I am not oblivious that she was not that nice. She asked some stranger to break up with me, and Tsubasa is clearly trying to get you into the job because he wants you back.”

“And I, the whore in this situation, would definitely go back to him. Is that what you mean?”

“No,” Hyungwon whispers. “But you’ve loved him for so long—”

“You need to understand me here! It’s not about how much I love him but it’s about me and my job and how some motivational speaker job is not taking me anywhere!”

Silence, that’s what surrounds this moment when Hyungwon utters out a tiny: “It’s about how you’ve loved him, but we’ve been together for months and I feel like you don’t love me.”

When a glass shatters, people try their best to grasp it before it lands on the floor. However, gravity is stronger. This is how this moment feels like, staring at him and the blue walls, suffocating her, because this is what she has been doing all along. Suffocating and suffocating, trying her best to forget to the point she has never forgotten at all. Hyungwon, though meaningful for her and possibly someone she loves now, will never be quite as strong as she had once had felt. Maybe, that is what adulthood does to her, it wears her off.

“Baby, it’s not about that…” She tries to reason, reaching up for his face and cradling his face. “I do care for you.”

“Care?” Hyungwon asks, lifting his eyebrows before getting away from her. She closes the door behind her in a hassle, following after his steps as she speaks in loud words.

“Yeah, care! I do care about you.”

His fingers wrap around her coat, tossing it at her with a sigh, nodding towards the door. “Call me when you get there and make sure you don’t drink too much.”

“Hyungwon—”

“If you care so much about me, just go out for tonight and let me think for once.” He replies, opening the door for her and holding his hand out with weaving fingers. “So? I’m waiting.”

Uneasily, the straps of her heels slip across her skin, clicking against the flooring and expecting Hyungwon to say something, turning around just in time to kiss him on the lips, but it feels as though he is dead, paralyzed, unable to move when she mumbles a small: “I love you.”

But it’s meaningless, of course it is.

The club is packed, ready to have anyone on the dance floor, drinking, smoking, living the best part of their lives, but instead her friends and herself are seated by the bar, simply talking beneath themselves about the issues that have interrupted her trains of thoughts ever since she got inside the taxi. The city could never quite feel as loud as her thoughts are, trying to recall since when it had become a habit for her to lie and if she really, sincerely, with all the might in her heart, thought that Tsubasa was not behind Jooheon’s intentions. After all, it could be some subconscious matter that is trying to push her back to the home she had gotten so used to, the one that she has tried to destroy with all the intention in the world.

The words go past her lips, reminiscent of every single argument they’ve had. One because he had fallen asleep when watching a movie. Another one because Hyungwon claimed that she was hiding from him, hence not saying anything when she was feeling gloomy. The screen that she had created for the movie of her life is suddenly projecting everything that is wrong, no longer a happy movie the more she downs sips of water, her friend’s attention on her. The second-nature of feeling comfortable with each other is falling into the realization that they are not really serious with one another, a reason as to why anyone would feel insecure in a long-lasting relationship. One that aims to be so, at least.

“Men are so stupid!” Miwoo says in between a shout, the music making them speak a bit louder than usual. She moves her hair off her shoulders, showcasing trained and tight shoulders. “I remember I used to be with this guy when I was in Paris for university and I swear…that guy ghosted me after it became serious. Some guy obsessed with travelling, like he really didn’t give two shits about my feelings.”

She nods softly, feet moving under the counter the more she thinks about the fight that had just ensued in Hyungwon’s apartment. “And he goes on to blame me, like I spent seven years in a relationship and got out of it, that’s my story. He shouldn’t think I’ll go and cheat on him or something—”

Seola is the next to speak, looking around to the masses of people dancing. “Besides, haven’t you been complaining about how he is boring?”

“Not in most occasions…” The answer is protective, mostly because she doesn’t want anyone hurting Hyungwon, but the anger that she feels within her bubbles up with the need of an outburst. “Doah should know about this, it’s just what happens after being with someone for a while. He just doesn’t try anymore. He doesn’t…initiate anything, you know? He simply expects for us to fall into this routine, like we have to plan each moment of our week, rules and all.”

“Maybe, he’s comfortable with you.” Doah tries to reason, the one that has more experience—and good one at that—in relationships. “…Like, sure, he should try harder, but you knew he’s a simple guy. Maybe, he just doesn’t want to do outlandish things but he needs…normal stuff.”

“I’m okay with that, totally!” She replies, looking ahead before puckering up her lips and sighing. “But there needs to be some spice.”

Seola scrunches up her nose at that, groaning. “Oh my God, no. We’re not talking about that together.”

“Not that kind of spice, Seola.” She tells her, tapping her finger against her cheek, trying to come up with that answer of what Hyungwon lacks. He’s funny, even when he doesn’t try, the type to be a bit awkward and yet, somewhat sassy. He’s got attitude, and yet he’s respectful, a sobering experience with his own strict nature, but still calm and serious. She’s liked this for as long as she knows him, but now it’s getting to her nerves. “The kind…you know…the kind that makes me think I really love him.”

“Didn’t you say you told him you loved him for the first time today?” Seola asks, only to have Miwoo sighing.

“Seola, of course she doesn’t mean it.”

Doah is the one to scoff at that. “But why? You were the one that initiated this relationship on the first place.”

“…B—Because…he’s just…he’s…” She’s answerless, looking up at the ceiling in hopes of finding something in the lights. She used to think that forever’s just come in shapes of unexplainable beings, that when someone is speechless it is something to be proud about. She wanted to shut up so badly, thanks to her past relationship, that she now comes short on what she wants to say. “He’s just…Hyungwon, and I don’t want to hurt him.”

Doah, one to say things straight, shakes her head in the matter of seconds. “You’ll hurt him and he’ll hurt you.”

The hand of Miwoo lands against her head. “Don’t say that!”

“They are using each other to get over their exes. Of course, they are not going to find reasons to love each other.” The conspiracy theory that Doah is voicing out has her parting her lips in surprise…because, like, that really isn’t it, right? She smacks her red lips together, reminiscent of how much Hyungwon likes to see her in that shade. She’s over Tsubasa, she just needs to love Hyungwon now— “Don’t get me wrong, you’re one of my best friends, but you need to stop lying to yourself. Hyungwon is in love with Hyunae, you’re in love with Tsubasa.”

“I’m not in love with him!” She replies, sincerity in her tone when she grips her chest. “I really don’t feel an ounce of love for him anymore…I don’t like him anymore, either. I just want to be happy.”

Seola, one that had been quiet for a little bit, rubs the back of her neck when she says: “And who’s to say that’s with Hyungwon?”

“Girls, attention,” Gaining the reigns of the situation once again, one of her legs crosses over the other to feel powerful when she takes her water bottle up to her lips. A sip, that’s all she needs, to relax and forget that this night ever happened. Tsubasa is clearly the bad one in this case…and herself, too, for simply forgetting Hyungwon’s feelings while hers were bursting in absolute delight of being able to go to that company that she has aspired to be part of. “Like, I just know Hyungwon’s the guy I like right now. The one I want. I don’t want to kiss, hug, learn to love or even have sex with anyone else but him. I know that, what I don’t know is what’s wrong with me or my body or my heart…because I can’t seem to tell him I love him as easily as I did with…”

“Tsubasa.” Doah replies, tilting her head to both sides to stop the ache on her neck. “Stop comparing him to Tsubasa and maybe, he’ll get the chance to be loved by you.”

With the weight of Seola’s hand placed on her shoulder, she sighs. “And if Hyungwon makes you happy, he makes us happy. We want nothing more than for you to let go of that toxic relationship and learn how to love someone that…just wants to fall into a routine with you, to love you for who you are.”

Though, it rips at her chest to know that she’s fearful, scared to move and hold him, just to show him that he’s worth of love, too. Perhaps, she was scared of risking another goodbye, another moment in which she’d have to say goodbye to the person she likes…simply because something doesn’t feel right. In this case, however, with the argument that happened this night, she feels as though she may be killing her own relationship, all with the distraction of wanting it to be so perfect…that she’d destroy it in a second without knowing.

The tight grin that caresses her cheeks is barely seen when she breathes out a small, softened: “…He does.” Because, no one would have treated her as nicely as he did, showing her that even the shades of her that were not happy were able to be loved, never pushing, never pulling…simply…being.

Is that kind of compatible with her, though?

Is anyone compatible with her, to start with?

###

The record was beaten three days ago when Hyungwon and herself had broken up for the third time in their relationship.

The periods of time are never too long, if a week at most of being away, perhaps for some not considered as a break but for her…another reminder of why exactly they are not working out. Every day and every night, she questions herself more as to why she makes bad decisions. Why, in the world, is she laying on her couch with her eyes closed, wondering what exactly had gone wrong. Apparently, something within her still holds on to the past, and Hyungwon simply can’t stand with that one bit of insecurity that tells him he’ll always be good but never as good as…

Silently, she had done so, she had brought someone with beaming colors to be a dulling gray color. Now, looking up at her ceiling, the white colors of it being painted in memories, she realizes that her life shouldn’t always be yellow, like the Sun, either. She should have let herself grieve the break-up with Tsubasa, the ache of being used for so many years, let herself heal and love someone else…like herself. She should have looked for a grounding moment in her own hands, instead of having someone else grasping her with love. She should have simply respected the moment of silence that should have gone past after Hyungwon got broken up with, simply because lusting after a man that is probably going through a hard time is not exactly the best of decisions.

Not to say she does not enjoy spending time with Hyungwon, that kissing him in the morning is not the highlight of her days and reuniting with him by the street they always connect in is not one of the reasons she lets the mask of faux happiness fall for one that is more tranquil, because she loves all of those things. She loves when Hyungwon starts his sentences and suddenly shakes his head, as if his idea sounds ridiculous, or when one word from his lips is enough to have her laughing. Specially, she loves when his fingers slot with hers and when his plump lips press to her collarbone, her neck, as if making her shine with a simplistic touch of his.

Even when she argues with him for it, she loves that he continues with the rules…that he absolutely and wholeheartedly believes in going by the right line, but she hates him even more when after this break up, she hears his keys slotting through her doorknob, welcoming him inside her apartment.

Her eyes don’t break away from the ceiling, wanting her life to be blank—white, as if she had never done anything, but instead, she hears the sound of rustling, perhaps from a bag and the noise of Hyungwon’s knees creaking under his weight when he kneels beside her on the couch. His long fingertips splay on top of her stomach, calling for her attention with small pats when he calls her name softly.

It’s up to her to break this up, as it seems.

Because Hyungwon is a creature of familiarity and she is one to push forward, always going for the end-line, to think that happiness is always at the end of every story. This shows in the way he looks at her, months after their initiation as a couple, his plush lips pulled into a smile when their gazes connect, his hair shorter and seeking for her touch when he takes one of her hands in his and brings it up to his face.

“I brought some food for us. Japanese, from our favorite restaurant.” He tells her as a peace offering, and she really wishes she could care less about this situation, but his words alone have her sitting up and shaking her head. Her hands cloud her vision, covering her eyes when she takes some deep breaths. “Hey, I know we were fighting before and we said that we’d be breaking up but—”

“But we really need to, Hyungwon.” She replies, being in this place before and once again, ending it before it gets worse. Perhaps, she really has to work on herself—know, for once, that life is not always about looking to cover the bad with the good, but learning how to improve the bad, slowly but surely, accepting it before it translates into something better. The man is silent when she uncovers her face, looking at her before settling the bag down.

“I know it’s been difficult, but I really love you—”

“And I don’t think I can love you quite as much as you deserve to be loved.” Then, she notices the bouquet of flowers he laid over her coffee table and how the steam of the food surround them, staring at each other for answers when Hyungwon’s shaky and breathy sighs, eyes somehow looking more than monotone, give her an initiative that he is heartbroken.

“You’re being serious with this…” He replies, standing up and saving his hands in the depths of his pockets, looking at her as if she has grown a second head. “…I—”

“Hyungwon, I need you to heal. I need me to heal.” Though, this will only bring more pain, but it’s what’s right. What should have done from the beginning, wait and wait and wait until she was ready to love again. “Just—Listen to me for once. This isn’t about another man, or comparing you, or loving someone more. I feel like I’ve grown…I’ve grown to feel for you, but you don’t love me the way I should and I don’t love you the way you deserve.”

She takes him by the shoulders then, fragile under her hold, broken when, once again, Hyungwon is tossed to the side as if he means nothing. Walking him towards the door, she hears him speak softly. “Oh…I understand…”

The door opens, taking him outside before the tears that are willing to escape her eyes tell her to hold on to him, because only him had been open enough to love her, to understand her even when she was hurting, to let her play her little game of being happy when in reality…she hasn’t been fully in a while. “Just go before I kiss you, okay? I need us to end this tonight.”

Hyungwon looks over his shoulder, asking: “No more getting back together?”

And maybe, she’s a bit egotistic, because she leans forward and presses a fleeting kiss to his lips, wanting to remember the outline of his lips against hers, the way that skin seemed to be made for her…but not in the way it happened. “After this, no.” She tells him, looking at him with a plea in her eyes. “But we’re on good terms, okay? I just think it’s bad that we’re on and off again. I’ve gone through this; I know how it’ll end either way.”

“Alright.” He blinks for a moment, watching her when she closes the door on his face and in a brief second, she’s already looking through the peephole, watching the absolute drain of emotions in his face, eyes looking for solace, lips moving softly when he parts them. Once he turns around again, she watches his fists press onto the wall as if he’s lost a war, holding onto reality. It has been tough on him, broken up by the people he had grown to like, people he was in relationships with…but she’s thinking of how much more happiness she’ll give him once this is over.

Hopefully, there is some for him and some for her. They deserve it, even when it is by themselves.

It’s over.

###

Don’t do it.

But…

No, don’t do it. You’ll break his heart.

But…

When talking to her friends, it’s easy to play it off as some break up. It’s her talent, after all, to simply push her worries away…and some other times, she drops everything on them about how difficult it has been to let go of Hyungwon. Much more when, slowly but surely, she had grown to have some lovely feelings for him. The battle, or rather staring battle, between his contact on her phone have her sighing, pondering as to why she misses him so much…or why she hasn’t deleted his number…or why she feels a pang on her chest when all her pictures with him are deleted from his social media, but from hers it’s almost impossible.

This time at night, he’d still be up. This time at night, she’d be kissing his shoulder and watching a movie with him, helping him grade tests if she’s feeling like him. This time at her life, she’d be learning how to love him, slowly but like a waltz, like the ones she has always wanted to share with him. Reaching out for him would hurt him even more, and maybe she’s giving too much credit to herself by thinking of herself as a heartbreaker, but the reality is that she had broken her own heart too many times. She says she’ll get better, and finally, she does…but when she is on the way there, she always misses the past.

Always. Never. Ever. She has to get rid of those words.

…A text would not hurt, right?

Yet, contacting him again would have her holding onto something that was finished and he’d be the same way. She doesn’t want to burden him, to remember him of how hard he tried before it eventually came falling down—all because she saw the past more than she saw a future. Her fingers hover right above the delete button, images of the first time she saw him in person filling her brain. So kind, sweet, silently so, the one person that had given her more light from the Sun rather than shadowing her in the process. And they made a mess out of that, too much light until they got blinded by their desires of what they wanted out of their relationship.

Somehow, when she finally deletes the number, she thinks she can feel his lips pressing down on hers…or she wishes to be able to hold him, to make him feel loved as she should have loved him in the past, to run towards him and hug him in her arms. Yet, it’s too late. It’s time for her to love herself, rather than loving someone else.

But…

Is he tired?

Is he eating just fine?

Does he miss her, just as much as she misses him?

A sigh leaves her lips, rotating on her bed until she is looking out the window. The Moon blinks back at her, asking for them to be friends, to hold the night as if it is also beautiful enough to be loved and she comes to the conclusion that she only hopes for him to know that she tried. Hard. With all her might. With the love that she had grown to have for him but could never voice out properly in fear of ever…moving on.

In fear of him saying ‘goodbye’, only to be the one that ended up saying it.

#hyungwon scenarios #hyungwon #monsta x scenarios #monsta x #kpop scenarios #writing #the anti-love club #monsta x angst #monsta x fluff #monsta x au #hyungwon angst #hyungwon fluff #hyungwon au #maaaaaan this one #this one though #it was fun to write

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crowdedimagines · 4 years

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Falling - Harry Styles

*obviously inspired by Falling, which i am OBSESSED with! *italics are from the past, a lot of this story will be from the past. *also, see if you catch some mini easter eggs to other songs from fine line (this wasn’t intentional, but for the timeline to work he never dated camille)

There’s no point in stopping the tears as they slowly stream down my face. As soon as I saw the tracklist to Harry’s new album I had a feeling this one would bring on the waterworks. Now that the album is officially released, I can hear what he’s been working on the past few months.

Falling.

A simple word with so much meaning behind it. It’s hard to fight off the memories of our relationship.

“-and this is the lovely, Y/n.” A friend introduces me to a small group of her friends at the party. She managed to drag me away from a conversation I was having to ‘meet some friends’. I smile and wave to all of the new faces, they go around and give me their names in return.

“Harry.” The last one speaks up, he raises his glass in a wave.

Our eyes pull together like magnets. I’m thankful for the darker lighting that is hiding the blush that creeps over my cheeks.

We all quickly dive into a conversation, everyone present being easy enough to talk to. They’re all lovely and fun people.

“I’m gonna go get another drink.” I announce as I get up from my spot.

“I’ll come with, mine seems to be empty too.” Harry grins and follows me back to the bar.

We both order our drinks and wait for them to be made. It takes a while, seeing how busy it is with all of the people here, but neither Harry or I mind. We immediately jump into a new conversation ranging from music, acting, and travel.

“You’ve never been to the UK?” Harry asks, utterly shocked.

“No.” I shake my head, laughing at his appalled reaction.

“How is that even possible? You’ve never had to film over there or anything?”

“I’ve been to Italy and France, but never your neck of the woods I suppose.” I let out a laugh.

He takes a sip of his drink, neither of us have made an effort to move back to the group since receiving them. I can see my friend giving two thumbs up over Harry’s shoulder. I’m sure this was some plan of hers to try and get us to hit it off.

“Well, you tell me when you’re free and we’ll go.” He smiles, “I’ll be your tour guide.”

God, I would love to take him up on that offer.

“Aren’t you going to be awfully busy with your first solo tour?”

“Ahh, you keep up with me then?” He smirks, I’m sure he’s enjoying that little ego boost.

“Pretty hard not to.” I roll my eyes, as if the pop star was so under the radar. “I can hardly leave my apartment in New York without coming across a billboard with your face plastered on it.”

“Well I’m sorry about that, love.”

“Don’t be, it’s a nice face to look at.”

It’s my turn now to smirk and notice Harry slightly thrown off.

“Tour doesn’t start for a month, pick a date before that and we’ll go.”

“You’re putting an awful lot of faith into someone you just met a half an hour ago.”

“I have faith in you, Y/n.”

“And why should I have faith in you?” I tease, “For all I know you could be a very creepy man.”

“Hey!” He laughs, “Haven’t you ever heard of treating people with kindness?”

The first time Harry and I ever met. That first night even, I knew that he was going to mean so much. I was proven correct a few weeks later when we actually did go to London together.

“Home sweet home.”

Harry opens the door wide enough so both of us and our luggage can fit. He’s invited me to stay at his flat, claiming it’s nicer than any hotel anyway. It’s also an obvious excuse for us to spend more time together just the two of us.

“It’s awfully gloomy here, strike one for London.” I joke.

“Hey! It’s late, you can’t judge it yet! Plus we just got off of a ten hour flight, you’re not in the right headspace.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes.

Harry and I have managed to grow so close in the short amount of time we’ve known each other. We met up several more times to somewhat plan the trip, Harry helped me pack claiming he would know what I would need better than I would.

We both laughed until we were crying, trying on the various clothes from my closet. Many random gems, things I’m almost positive Harry wants to steal.

We still haven’t defined what we are. Friends is the easiest way of putting it, but it doesn’t feel quite right. We flirt constantly and were touchy with each other, but we’ve never acted on anything.

“Alright, let’s find you a room.”

Harry takes my suitcase with him as he leads me into the rest of his house. We go up to the second floor and he opens the door to a large room. It’s decorated in simple white with hints of yellow.

“Cute.” I grin looking around the room.

“Y’like it?” He almost seems nervous. Giddy like an unsure child.

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

For the first time there’s an awkward pause. Just a few seconds of what to do, it’s really late and by the sounds of it we have plans for an early morning.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, H.”

Harry leaves me to my room and goes to his own, which is conveniently across the hall.

He wasn’t lying, the next day we are up bright and early. Too early, I might add.

“Y/n.” He taunts my name on the other side of the door.

“Too early.” I grumble, my face still half smashed into a pillow. I don’t even flinch hearing the door open.

“C’mon, Y/n. If you get up now we can go out for breakfast and go to the farmers market.” I feel the bed dip as he settles on the bed.

“Why can’t I sleep in and we just eat here?” I finally turn to face where’s he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, he has an amused look on his face.

“Because I’ve been in Los Angeles for the past two months. There’s quite literally no food here.”

I let out a groan and drop my head back down.

“I’m amazed with how cute you still look while so angry and having just woken up.”

“You’re such a kiss ass.” I grumble.

“Only for you.” He lightly smacks my ass before walking back out. “Let’s go, Y/Ln.”

I get up and look out the large window to see that it’s raining, but it looks like the sun is trying to come out. I settle on a comfortable outfit, tucking my hair back into a low bun. I wash my face and throw on a pair of sunnies.

“Ready?”

I nod and we take off. We walk to a diner that Harry loves going too, he claims that he gets cravings for it when he’s back in the states. I have to say, after eating there, I understand his hype.

Once were no longer hungry, we take off for the farmer’s market.

It’s cute to say the least. We pick up some organic veggies to cook with for dinner and we find some cheese and fresh bread.

“H, look!” I cross over from the tent we had been in to the one across the street.

“They’re beautiful!” I trail my fingers across all of the different bundles of flowers.

“I almost lost you.” Harry says after catching up.

“Look at how pretty they are!” I pick up a bundle of sunflowers.

“How much?” Harry asks before handing over more than enough for them.

“Gotcha!” Harry smiles looking down at his phone. I’m sure he’s taken yet another candid picture.

“For someone who doesn’t post on social media, you take an awful lot of pictures.” I bump his shoulder as we continue walking.

“Yeah, still like to have the memories.”

Harry and I spent two more days in London exploring more of the city before we decided to take a road trip to Holmes Chapel to see where Harry grew up. It was a long drive, but it was worth it to see Harry light up.

“That’s the bakery I used to work in.” He points out the car window.

“Don’t you want to stop?” I ask, watching him drive right by it.

“No, it’s kind of become a fan beacon now.” Harry explains.

We continue to drive through the town as he points out more spots from when he grew up. Or we sit in a comfortable silence just looking out at the scenery. I don’t notice we’ve arrived somewhere until Harry puts the car in park.

“Where are we?” I ask, looking at the house in front of us. It’s grown dark out, but the house looks warm and inviting.

“My mum’s house.” He quickly gets out of the car before I can ask a question.

“Harry!” I roll my eyes, following him to the door.

“What?” He grins looking over his shoulder. He knocks and it doesn’t take long for an answer to follow.

“Harry!” She pulls him in for a hug, the woman I can only assume is his mother.

They talk softly to each other and I feel as if I’m invading a very private moment.

“You’ve brought someone home?” She shouts with an excited voice. Without a pause, she pulls me in for an equally tight hug. She knocks the air out of my lungs, but I let out a laugh.

“In all these years, Harry’s never brought a girl home!”

“Mum!” Harry groans, a pink color taking over.

“Come in come in! I’m just finishing up supper.”

She disappears further into the house, once Harry and I step in, I can feel the warmth of the home and smell whatever she’s cooking.

“You brought me home to meet your mom!” I tease, turning to smack Harry lightly on the chest.

“No, she would just be upset if I was here and didn’t see here before leaving for a world tour.”

Bullshit.

“Harry, you’ve never brought a girl home before.” I smirk.

“Alright alright, I really like you. As if it wasn’t obvious enough before.” Harry admits, he successfully knocks the smile clear off my face.

“Are you going to say anything?” He asks, suddenly twisting the right on his fingers around out of nerves.

“I like you too.” I smile, “Duh.”

“Thank god.” He sighs, pulling me in for a hug.

“Alright, supper is- oh! You’re having a moment, I’ll go.” Anne rushes back to the kitchen. It would take a blind man to miss the smile and happy dance at seeing us like this.

“She’s a sweetheart.” I pull back so I can look up

“Yeah, we’re a pretty charming family.”

“I can see that.”

After that it was bliss, Harry and I finally got together. Just in time for him to leave on tour. But we made it work, thankfully. Either I would fly out to whatever city he was in, or when he had extended breaks he would come see me on set. Any time we weren’t performing, we were facetiming. Or when the time differences didn’t work, we would leave each other long voicemails, just longing to hear the other’s voice.

By the time he finished his tour, and I finished my movie, we finally got to date like a normal couple and see each other regularly.

“Coming, coming!” I yell, rushing to my door to see who’s in a huge rush that causes them to knock repeatedly.

“I said-” Before I get a chance to yell when I swing the door open my jaw drops at the sight.

“Hi, love.” He grins, a bundle of sunflowers in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” I peck his lips with mine and pull him in for a long hug, “You had things to finish up! I wasn’t supposed to get you home for another week!”

“I’m sorry, love, but I lied. I always knew I could sneak away.”

“That’s kind of evil.” I laugh pulling away, but still holding onto him.

“Which is why I have these.” He hands my the flowers.

“Thank you.” I grin, he follows me into my kitchen and watches as I put them in water.

“So, how does it feel to be all finished?” I ask.

“Good, it was really rewarding, but really exhausting. I’ve just been waiting to come home to you to be perfectly honest.”

“Well, here I am.” I smile, I take a seat on his lap. It’s good to have him here.

Beachwood Cafe. The coffee here doesn’t taste as good when it’s not filled with our laughter and deep conversations. It seems bitter without the games.This was our spot in Los Angeles. Early in our relationship we had stumbled upon the place and it became ours. The baristas growing accustomed to our orders and our stardom.

“You’re absolutely mad if you think that’s a word.” Harry says, his voice getting louder and gaining the attention of people around us. As if we weren’t already doing that. The cafe is always busy, but today it seemed like there were lots of people here.

“Have you ever played Scrabble? Of course this is a word!” I argue. Part of why we like the cafe is the bookshelf filled with board games. Every time we come Harry and I pick a new one we’ve never played together before. Today we settled on Scrabble even though it led to us bickering.

“I don’t like playing with a cheater.” He can’t even get away with it without smiling, but we continue the teasing fight for the fun of it. Banter is always entertaining.

“A cheater?” My voice raising as well, “Look it up!”

We both breakout in laughter over how stupid it is to be arguing about.

Still blissfully aware in our honeymoon phase which lasted way longer than any other relationship either of us have been in. If only I had known then how much worse the arguing would get.

“Harry, what’s happened to you?” I ask, tears freely falling to the floor. The tears being caused more by anger than hurt at this point.

“What do you mean?” His words slurred.

“You’re drunk again, of course.” I roll my eyes, leaving him on the bathroom floor to deal with himself.

“You’ve made a fool of me Harry!” I shout, letting my temper get the best of me, “Do you know how embarrassing you were tonight? Tonight was a big deal for me, I’ve never been the lead actress. You now what this premiere meant to me.”

“Love, I-” Harry follows me out of the bathroom into our bedroom. My attitude and hurt seems to have sobered him up a bit, though he is still far from dry.

“You got hammered before the movie could even start!” I huff, “You were loud and obnoxiously shouting about nonsense! Not to mention the fact that you flirted with nearly every person at the bar.”

“Y/n, it’s fine we-”

“No, it’s far from fine. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, since when have you felt most comfortable with a drink in your hand? Or a stranger on your arm? This isn’t new for you anymore, you’ve been acting like this for months.”

The silence coming from him proves I’m right.

“If it’s been months, why haven’t you said anything before now. We’ve been dating for nearly two years now, we live together. I would think you’re comfortable enough to tell me you think I’m a drunk.” Harry sasses back.

“I’ve tried! You just get rude or you don’t even remember it in the morning.” I push my hair back out of my face, “The only difference it, tonight was my breaking point.”

I walk to my closet and grab a bag and start shoving essentials in it.

“No, Y/n, wait.” Harry follows me, he takes the bag from my hand and starts pulling things back out.

“Harry stop!” My voice rising louder than it ever has in this house, “Enough. I’m done. We are finished.”

Harry suddenly drops the bag and stumbles back out of the closet. I manage to repack the bad come out to see Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at his shoes.

“I’ll send someone to get the rest of my stuff. You can buy out my half of the lease.”

After that night, I never looked back.

The song ends and I turn off my phone and set it down. I wipe away any remnants at eyes, the tears long dried. Before I can spend any more time thinking about him or the way things used to be, I get dressed for the day. Harry was right about one thing.

I’ll never need him again.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #angst #harry styles angst #Harry Styles

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hoodharlow · 4 years

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How is Easter being celebrated in the hood household 🥺

Sorry this was three days late, kinda like Jesus lol, but um I hope you enjoy

Calum woke up confused. Claudia wasn’t in bed. How can she not be tired after what they did last night?

He picked up his sweats from the previous night. After brushing his teeth, he went downstairs to look for her. He spotted her in their kitchen dressed in his USC tank top she gave him for Christmas that she ended up stealing. She was diligently decorating cookies.

“Morning” He said, walking up to her and pecking her lips.

“Hi,” she replied, going back to her cookies. Her hands were tired. She woke up at the crack of dawn to make desserts. Luckily, she was decorating her last batch cookies. Their island was filled with trays of desserts.

Ever since they started dating, they always spent Easter with her parents, but this year they were in Texas because her sister in law gave birth a few weeks ago. Cal's own parents were spending the holiday in Scotland with his dad’s family. Therefore, they decided to host Easter at their house with the boys and their families.

Claudia and Calum have been together for about 8 years. They formally met back in 2018 when him and the boys stopped by a college radio station where she worked. But it wasn’t until a few months after that they started dating.

After making coffee, Calum busied himself with breakfast by whisking the batter for waffles. He sprayed the waffle maker and added the batter. While that cooked, he started on a berry coulis, a recipe he picked from watching baking shows with Claudia.

Duke wandered into the kitchen after smelling the waffles. Calum was taken back when he saw him in a bunny costume. It was those that looked like the bunny was walking on two legs and holding a carrot. He looked at Claudia, who was trying not to laugh, and back tp Duke.

“He let you put it on him?” Calum asked her.

“Obviously.” Claudia said. She got up from her stool and went to the pantry for the goodie bags.

It took everything in Cal, not to make a joke about her limping, but he stayed silent and watched her place a cookie decorated onto each goodie bag.

They were the only couple of the band that didn’t have kids. Between Claudia getting her Master’s and finding a stable teaching job and the boys’ music career, they had decided to wait it out. Now that they had settled down, they began trying.

That was two years ago.

After 18 months of trying and not getting any results, they gave up and started looking for different options. Claudia spent months in a rut. Sometimes she felt left out that she was the only one that didn’t have kids. Especially when her and Calum visited her family. At first she didn’t mind it, but after 8 years of hearing her tias saying que “Ya que tengan uno, si no se van a casar” it got annoying.

Calum poked his head from the fridge and looked at her. “Where’s the whipped cream?”

“Here,” she said, handing him a bowl from her decorating station. “I had to make more because someone used it up last night. You know, I was planning on not washing my hair, but I had to wash it this morning.”

“You weren’t complaining when I was licking it off you here,” He started kissing the love bites he left her down her neck. He pulled her tank top down, exposing her breasts. He playfully nipped them, “and here.”

“Cal,” Claudia groaned. She melted against his touches.

“Guess I'm having my favorite meal for breakfast.” He smiled, pushing her down on the counter.

***

“You said you weren’t going to mark me up!” Claudia chided. She inspected the new hickies Calum left her. It took her ages to cover the ones he gave her last night.

“Sorry,” He said, sheepishly.

Calum had not so subtly pulled her into one of the guest bathrooms. Luckily after years of visiting Calum while he was on tour, Claudia learnt how to be quiet.

In reality Calum had brought her in to check on her. After Ash and Kay announced they were expecting their 4th kid, Calum noticed Claudia looked a bit sad. He knew how much having a kid meant to her. They've gone to fertility specialists in both their native countries and then some, but they all told them they're both fertile and healthy enough to have kids. This only frustrated Claudia more. There have been instances where they both let their frustrations get the best of them and just blow things out of the water.

"You're lucky that I have another week off school." Claudia said.

"You know how I get when you wear dresses with slits." Calum defended himself. He slid his hand through the slit of her dress and gave her ass a rough squeeze. "I like the easy access."

"I'm done with you." She pushed his hand out and fixed her dress. She had smoothed it out earlier, but now it was wrinkled where Calum bunched it up.

"You love me for it."

"I guess."

There was a knock in the door.

"Are you rabbits done? Ashlyn has to pee," Ashton said through the door.

"Wait." Calum semi yelled. He turned to Claudia "Are you good? With them having another kid and all."

"Yeah," She smiled. Calum knew that smile. It was the same one she makes when her family asks her too many questions or makes rude jokes to her, but Calum knew not to push right now.

"All yours," Calum said to Ashton and Ashlyn when they walked out. The little girl pushed past them and closed the door.

"You two couldn't have waited until we all left?" Ashton asked them.

"No, have you seen this ass?" Claudia asked, grabbing a handful of Calum's ass.

"Oi," Calum jumped back.

"You love it. I gotta go check on the pizzas the kids made.” Claudia said, leaving them. Calum watched her walk away.

“So when are you going to ask her?” Ashton asked.

“Later when we do the egg hunt.” Calum said. He was nervous as fuck. Yesterday he facetimed Mali freaking out about what Claudia might say, but Mali set him straight and reassured him that Claudia really loved him. He then called her dad and told him how he was going to propose to her. Her dad laughed at how cheesy it was, but deep down he liked the concept.

***

Calum was playing with Luke’s daughter when he spotted Claudia carrying a tray of drinks. The image brought Calum back to the first time he saw her.

It was well over 10 years ago. They were touring with One Direction. After sound check for their San Diego show, Calum and Luke stopped by a Mexican restaurant, her parents’, to pick up some food. A few fans had followed them without their knowledge. He still remembers how she scolded the fans for disrupting the peace and taking up space for actual customers. Luke then called one of their body guards to come pick them up.

Calum tried talking to her while they waited, but she just brushed him off. In reality, she was upset because she got caught trying to go see One Direction. She had told her parents that she was going to a weekend church retreat, but her twin brother read her messages and told their parents. As a punishment, she had to work at the restaurant to pay off the ticket.

She didn’t realize they were Luke and Calum from 5 Seconds of Summer until the next day when Calum volunteered to pick up their breakfast burritos before driving back to LA. She profusely apologized to him about her bad attitude. As an apology, she gave him chips and salsa on the house. Back then Claudia’s flirting skills were at an all time high and she managed to get a picture with him. It was a poorly lit polaroid where her braces took over, lighting wise, and was inside Calum’s phone screen.

Since then, whenever they have a show in San Diego, the boys would always stop by the restaurant in hopes that Calum sees her. The first time Claudia wasn’t there was in 2018 because she had transferred to Cal State Long Beach. Who would've thought that they were going to run into each other days later when the boys were promoting their album at the radio for the university.

“Daddy, my egg has a ring.” Ashlyn announced from across the yard, making Calum choke on his drink.

The whole yard became silent. The boys knew what Calum had planned out, but it was not going according to plan. Claudia turned to look at Calum who was patting his pants like his life depended on it.

“Shit,” Calum cursed.

“Uh, oh, uncle Cal said a no-no word.” One of Michael’s kids yelled.

“Ashlyn can I see that?” Ashton asked, going up to her. He bent down to where she was and discreetly swapped her egg with one exactly like it but was filled with candy. When he opened it, he showed her. “I think we need to get your eyes checked. This is candy?”

“No way! Maybe it’s a magic egg!” The little girl gasped. She snatched the egg and went back to her siblings and the other kids to show off her magic egg.

“Lose this?” Ashton got up and passed the egg to Calum.

“I owe you.” Calum said.

Claudia stayed frozen, very confused on what just happened. Even more confused when Calum walked up to her.

“Hi.”

“Hey?” She said, unsure of what was going to happen.

“So, this isn’t going how I planned, and I completely forgot this whole speech I was going to say. But, um, do you wanna marry me? I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the second you told me to fuck off at your dad’s restaurant all those years ago.”

Claudia nodded as tears streamed down her cheeks. She threw herself onto Calum’s arms. She looked up at Cal, who’s eyes brimmed with tears, and kissed him.

“I love you.” She hiccuped.

“I love you.” Calum repeated. His hands were shaking when he tried putting the ring on her finger. Once he got it on, he picked her up in his arms. “She said yes!”

All the adults cheered. The kids were in their own little world stuffing themselves with candy.

***

By the time Claudia and Calum got settled in bed it was well over 1 am. Right after he proposed, they facetimed her parents, where more tears were shared. Her dad nodded and looked away. It was the same face he made on her quinceañera during the father-daughter dance. Around midnight, they facetimed Cal’s parents telling them the news. Joy joked that it was about time Calum proposed.

Calum watched Claudia. She was pretty quiet after the whole proposal thing. There was something on her mind.

“Hey, are you cool with the whole us getting married?” Calum asked her.

“I mean, yeah… but are you? You really wanna marry someone that potentially can’t give you a child? You should be with someone that can give you the family you—”

“No, I want to be with you because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why? Because you’re my family. I want you. We’ll figure that out later—”

“But I’m about to turn 28. Once I hit my 30’s we’re going to struggle even more. I just don’t want you to waste time on me when you can be with someone that can give you what you want.”

“I want you, Claudia. I would be wasting my time with someone else because they’re not you. This is where I want to be. With you.” Calum pulled Claudia to his lap.

“You mean it?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes,” he held out his pinky out, a habit he picked from her. She wrapped hers around his. Calum wiped the tears off her eyes. “Now may I please kiss my fiancé properly?”

“Yes,” she smiled.

Before Calum could do anything, Claudia pulled his neck to her and kissed him. In a matter of seconds, their kiss grew heated. Calum pushed her down and showed her how he made love to his fiance.

***

5 Years Later

“Calum, ya deja Aiden.” Claudia scolded her husband, in a full on bunny costume.

She watched him chase their 4 year old down so they could get a picture with all of their nieces and nephews, and the boys’ kids. Ever since he proposed, they hosted Easter at their place where everyone is invited.

Aiden ran behind her legs, hiding from Calum. Claudia felt his arms wrap around her legs. She picked him up and walked over to Calum. She pulled the bunny head off him.

“Ves, it’s just your dumb papi.” She told her son.

Calum reached over to him, and Aiden hesitantly went to him. That was when Calum took notice of the dress Claudia was wearing. It was the same one she wore a few years back when he proposed. He hasn’t seen her in it a long time. Nonetheless she still looked breathtaking as ever.

After pictures, they started the egg hunt. Calum took advantage of the commotion and snuck into their room with Claudia. They barely made it to the room when Calum kicked off the rest of his costume and pulled down the top part of her dress, exposing her breasts, and had her leg wrapped around his waist.

“Cal,” she managed to say when Calum teased her entrance.

“What? I missed this dress.” He groaned as he slightly shoved himself in. “I like the easy access.”

Sorry this was three days late, kinda like Jesus lol, but um I hope you enjoy

Calum woke up confused. Claudia wasn’t in bed. How can she not be tired after what they did last night?

“Morning” He said, walking up to her and pecking her lips.

“He let you put it on him?” Calum asked her.

“Obviously.” Claudia said. She got up from her stool and went to the pantry for the goodie bags.

It took everything in Cal, not to make a joke about her limping, but he stayed silent and watched her place a cookie decorated onto each goodie bag.

That was two years ago.

Calum poked his head from the fridge and looked at her. “Where’s the whipped cream?”

“Cal,” Claudia groaned. She melted against his touches.

“Guess I'm having my favorite meal for breakfast.” He smiled, pushing her down on the counter.

***

“You said you weren’t going to mark me up!” Claudia chided. She inspected the new hickies Calum left her. It took her ages to cover the ones he gave her last night.

“Sorry,” He said, sheepishly.

Calum had not so subtly pulled her into one of the guest bathrooms. Luckily after years of visiting Calum while he was on tour, Claudia learnt how to be quiet.

"You're lucky that I have another week off school." Claudia said.

"You know how I get when you wear dresses with slits." Calum defended himself. He slid his hand through the slit of her dress and gave her ass a rough squeeze. "I like the easy access."

"I'm done with you." She pushed his hand out and fixed her dress. She had smoothed it out earlier, but now it was wrinkled where Calum bunched it up.

"You love me for it."

"I guess."

There was a knock in the door.

"Are you rabbits done? Ashlyn has to pee," Ashton said through the door.

"Wait." Calum semi yelled. He turned to Claudia "Are you good? With them having another kid and all."

"Yeah," She smiled. Calum knew that smile. It was the same one she makes when her family asks her too many questions or makes rude jokes to her, but Calum knew not to push right now.

"All yours," Calum said to Ashton and Ashlyn when they walked out. The little girl pushed past them and closed the door.

"You two couldn't have waited until we all left?" Ashton asked them.

"No, have you seen this ass?" Claudia asked, grabbing a handful of Calum's ass.

"Oi," Calum jumped back.

"You love it. I gotta go check on the pizzas the kids made.” Claudia said, leaving them. Calum watched her walk away.

“So when are you going to ask her?” Ashton asked.

***

Calum was playing with Luke’s daughter when he spotted Claudia carrying a tray of drinks. The image brought Calum back to the first time he saw her.

“Daddy, my egg has a ring.” Ashlyn announced from across the yard, making Calum choke on his drink.

The whole yard became silent. The boys knew what Calum had planned out, but it was not going according to plan. Claudia turned to look at Calum who was patting his pants like his life depended on it.

“Shit,” Calum cursed.

“Uh, oh, uncle Cal said a no-no word.” One of Michael’s kids yelled.

“No way! Maybe it’s a magic egg!” The little girl gasped. She snatched the egg and went back to her siblings and the other kids to show off her magic egg.

“Lose this?” Ashton got up and passed the egg to Calum.

“I owe you.” Calum said.

Claudia stayed frozen, very confused on what just happened. Even more confused when Calum walked up to her.

“Hi.”

“Hey?” She said, unsure of what was going to happen.

Claudia nodded as tears streamed down her cheeks. She threw herself onto Calum’s arms. She looked up at Cal, who’s eyes brimmed with tears, and kissed him.

“I love you.” She hiccuped.

“I love you.” Calum repeated. His hands were shaking when he tried putting the ring on her finger. Once he got it on, he picked her up in his arms. “She said yes!”

All the adults cheered. The kids were in their own little world stuffing themselves with candy.

***

Calum watched Claudia. She was pretty quiet after the whole proposal thing. There was something on her mind.

“Hey, are you cool with the whole us getting married?” Calum asked her.

“I mean, yeah… but are you? You really wanna marry someone that potentially can’t give you a child? You should be with someone that can give you the family you—”

“No, I want to be with you because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why? Because you’re my family. I want you. We’ll figure that out later—”

“But I’m about to turn 28. Once I hit my 30’s we’re going to struggle even more. I just don’t want you to waste time on me when you can be with someone that can give you what you want.”

“I want you, Claudia. I would be wasting my time with someone else because they’re not you. This is where I want to be. With you.” Calum pulled Claudia to his lap.

“You mean it?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes,” he held out his pinky out, a habit he picked from her. She wrapped hers around his. Calum wiped the tears off her eyes. “Now may I please kiss my fiancé properly?”

“Yes,” she smiled.

Before Calum could do anything, Claudia pulled his neck to her and kissed him. In a matter of seconds, their kiss grew heated. Calum pushed her down and showed her how he made love to his fiance.

*** Three Years Later***

“Calum, ya deja Aiden.” Claudia scolded her husband, in a full on bunny costume.

She watched him chase their almost 3 year old down so they could get a picture with all of their nieces and nephews, and the boys’ kids. Ever since he proposed, they hosted Easter at their place where everyone is invited.

Aiden ran behind her legs, hiding from Calum. Claudia felt his arms wrap around her legs. She picked him up and walked over to Calum. She pulled the bunny head off him.

“Ves, es el cabezon de tu papi.” She told her son.

“Cal,” she managed to say when Calum teased her entrance.

“What? I missed this dress.” He groaned as he slightly shoved himself in. “I like the easy access.”

#calum hood ask #calum hood request #requested #calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fanfiction

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