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doyumacy · 3 years

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ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - 2

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰ. ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ) ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5,2ᴋ

two years ago

“起きて、女の赤ちゃん” (okite, on'na no akachan) (get up, baby girl) you hear yuta whisper.

you groan, rolling on your stomach and burying your head in the pillows. yuta chuckles. “come on, doll. it’s time to wake up.”

“how can you even ask me to wake up at...?” you turn your head and check the hour, “seven in the morning?! are you sick to your head?”

yuta grins. “i got a flight to catch, don’t you remember?”

“oh,” you sigh sadly. “is it today?”

he nods and kisses your head. “get up. i’ll make breakfast and then you can come back to sleep.”

you shake your head. “i’ll take you to the airport.”

“that’s my girl,” he smirks and gives you a peck.

you smile and stand up, unfolding your sleeping (yuta’s) shirt. he grins when you turn around entering the bathroom and seeing half of your ass.

so sexy.

once he’s finished cooking, he serves you and you eat quietly. when you’re done doing the dishes, he’s back from his bedroom carrying a small black expensive bag.

you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. “don’t go. stay and we can have sex all day.”

yuta laughs and kisses you. “sounds very tempting but i have to go.”

you pout sadly. “i will miss you.”

“i know,” he kisses you again. “i’ll miss you, too.”

“can i ask you something?” you ask, caressing his lower back.

he nods. “anything, baby girl.”

“can i stay here while you’re gone?” you smile looking at him. “i love your place.”

yuta smirks. “of course you can. this is practically your place too.”

you smile big. “little tokyo is my favourite place in los angeles.”

“you say it because i live here,” he softly pinches your nose.

you laugh. “maybe. and because the food is good.”

“mmm yeah,” he cups your face and kisses you. “you love eating japanese.”

you bite your lip. “yeah. it’s my favourite. i always devour it.”

yuta groans. “やめて。” (yamete) (stop).

“make me,” you nip at his lip.

“okay. stop it,” he yanks himself free. “i’m gonna be late.”

you giggle. “let’s go.”

(...)

present

“just a signature here and i’ll take it from here,” you hear a woman behind you say.

you shake your head, getting rid of that memory. one of many memories you made with yuta in the place you’re about to sell.

“yes, of course,” you reply.

you sigh the paper and hand her the folder with the documents. the woman smiles at you. “i’ll call you when i have an offer.”

you nod. “thank you.”

the woman leaves the apartment and you hug yourself, rubbing your forearms. you follow the woman, leaving the place shutting the door behind you.

(...)

one of the things people should know about mark, is that his stubbornness is how he usually gets his way. in all honesty, society depicts whoever is stubborn is just a spoiled brat. it’s not generally like that for mark.

he spends his days in the warehouse and his own condo, and night in the streets. but he can’t put the pieces together.

he knows good and well the elegant beauty known as you won’t be involved in a hellhole like that. he does, he’s not stupid. and neither you are.

he sighs and sits in front of his big tv screen and rubs his chin. there’s something about you that keeps making him go back and look for you. and it’s not like he’s gonna stop seeing you since you live with johnny.

and johnny is his sponsor.

but johnny is smart and he won’t let his sister get in the middle of his business, right? for her safety?

“hey mark,” yves calls him, entering the room. “we got a meeting. narcotics deal with the vanguards squad.”

to be frank, he never wanted to make business with them because they were problematic, they are known for narcotics and gambling, but still.

mark stands up and makes his way to the vanguard squad’s warehouse.

mark, along with johnny, yves and jaehyun arrive at the warehouse. his companions sit on the black sofa, their eyes meeting the 2 familiar faces they dread to see. one of them has very pushed back dark hair and a red haired greet them.

“good evening, guys,” the dark haired smirks.

“let’s just skip this,” johnny says. “what is it that you want?”

“well, narcotics of course,” the black haired sits in front of them.

“but we don’t want the crap the yakuzas are selling,” the red haired says.

“we don’t have contact with the yakuza,” johnny admits.

“i know,” the black haired nods. “not anymore tho.”

mark frowns. “not anymore?”

“oh yeah, you’re new,” he laughs. “anyway, i know you have someone that almost conquered the market.” he looks at johnny.

johnny clears his throat. “yeah, well he’s not around anymore.”

“we heard,” the red haired replies, “and that’s what we thought.”

jaehyun knits his eyebrows. “we’re not following…”

“we want what the japanese used to sell,” the black haired one crosses one leg. “ that shit was pure methamphetamine and our suppliers haven’t figured out how he did such excellent work.”

johnny presses his lips together. “as i said, he’s not around anymore.”

the black haired squints his eyes, looking at johnny. “you’re to me, johnny. i don’t like being lied to.”

the red haired stands up and comes back holding a black folder, tossing it to johnny on the table between them. johnny opens the folder just to see a few pictures of a black haired yuta in different areas of los angeles.

he gulps.

“he is definitely around,” the red haired smiles.

johnny closes the folder, ignoring the questioning look of jaehyun. “i’ll talk to him.”

the two men smile. “please do it quickly. we don’t like waiting.”

johnny groans. “and stop fucking following us, doyoung.”

doyoung smiles. “tell yuta taeil and i are looking forward to work with him.”

“what the fuck?” jaehyun stares at johnny, once they have left the warehouse. “yuta is alive and you fucking knew?”

johnny sighs. “not right now, jaehyun.”

“fuck off,” jaehyun groans. “what the hell is wrong with you? does y/n know?”

“no, and she can’t know,” johnny warns him.

“okay, this seems like a family thing so i think we shouldn’t be here,” mark states.

“no no,” johnny shakes his head. “just, don’t tell y/n, okay? i’ll find a way to convince doyoung and taeil to get a new supplier.”

“you know they won’t change their minds,” yves says, looking at her nails. “come on, this is a business. fuck family.”

“you’re a bitch,” jaehyun glances at her.

“keep crying about it,” yves mocks him.

“shut up,” johnny groans. “if you say a word about what you found out today i’ll kill you.”

jaehyun rolls his eyes. “you’re a piece of shit, johnny.”

“i didn’t have a choice!” johnny stares at him.

“okay okay,” mark gets in the middle of them. “whatever the reason was i’m sure you have an explanation, but we need to keep in mind we can’t fuck around doyoung and taeil. they’ll eat us alive.”

“mark’s right,” yves replies. “you need to get your shit together and separate your friendship and business or you're gonna get us all killed for real.”

(...)

“hello?” mark greets after he picks up the phone.

“lee,” you say. “hi.”

“who is this?” mark jokes.

you scoff. “it’s me.”

“mmm,” he hums. “i don’t remember you. who are you again?”

you sigh, trying to keep your patience. “it’s y/n. y/n suh.”

“ah, yeah. i remember you. what’s up?”

“you can pick up your car today,” you announce.

“cool. i’ll be there in a few hours.”

“okay.”

there’s a silence and you clear your throat. “hang up.”

“you hang up,” mark says.

you groan. “you’re unbearable, mark.”

mark laughs. “i ain’t doing shit.”

“that’s why!” you growl. “bye, mark.”

“bye y/n,” you can hear him smile.

you hang up and groan. “keep your shit together, y/n.”

“that was very… bad,” you hear jungwoo murmuring behind you.

“don’t even say a word,” you warn him.

jungwoo chuckles. “why would i tell people my friend sucks at flirting?”

“i wasn’t flirting!”you stare at him.

“clearly.” he hums.

you’re about to close the shop by the time mark stops by. he walks to you, fixing his hair and greets you smiling. “sorry, there was an accident on the 101.”

“yeah, i heard,” you say. “follow me, your car is behind the shop.”

mark follows you and you open the back door garage. you take his car keys and tosses at him. “you can check it out or try it.”

“nah, i trust you,” mark opens the car door. “see you tonight?”

“what’s tonight?” you frown.

“there's a race in southern cali,” he tilts his head. “i thought you knew.”

you hiss. “fucking johnny told me it was cancelled.”

“oh,” mark nods. “guess i just screwed up.”

“see you there,” you grab your jacket.

“alright, gorgeous,” he smirks, getting inside his car. “looking forward.”

you roll your eyes, hiding a smile.

you wear lilac leather pants and a white tanktop, showing your torso off. your hair is down and straightened.

you know the south of california like the palm of your hand. every neighbourhood or street, you know it and all thanks to your father, who was a trucker and would take you and johnny to his trips most of the time.

“i see you brought a new car,” mark says, walking around the red car.

you throw him a smirk. “it’s taeyong’s.”

“he has a good taste,” mark says, checking the red toyota supra out.

“yeah.”

“but mine’s better,” mark grins.

“is that how you get a woman with you? showing her your car off?” you raise an eyebrow.

mark smiles sideways and leans against the car. “it works, most of the time.”

you nod and bite your lip. “well, it doesn’t work with me.”

“i know,” mark replies. “but still, you would let me fuck you in the backseat.”

you straighten your back up and cross your arms on your chest. “not much into sex car.”

“what are you into then?” mark stares at you.

you grin. “i have to go. see you around mark.”

and you walk away from him, swinging your hips more than you do. mark chuckles and bit at his lip.

this race is more showy, with way more people than the other street races. you’re not racing tonight, but taeyong, mark and other people are. johnny is there expecting mark to win since the bet is high.

as expected, mark ends up in first place, followed by taeyong. mark was received by a big crowd, mostly girls. you roll your eyes and taeyong pats your shoulder. “you will have to deal with his fans.”

“i don’t give a shit about this dude,” you spit out.

“aha,” taeyong nods. “get in. we’re going to a party.”

“did you bring it?” you eye him.

“yeah.”

you smile and get into his car. he drives back to your house and the street is already crowded. you enter your house and spot jaehyun giving drinks to everyone. you approach him and take two beers. you come back with taeyong and hand him one. he opens it and after looking for johnny and don’t seeing him, he takes your hand and goes to the nearest bathroom. he locks the door and takes out a small plastic bag with white powder.

you smile and taeyong pours out two generously thick lines of cocaine on the bathroom counter. “ladies first.”

“thank you.”

you focus on getting the cocaine in your system. getting as much in as you can, but it’s not a race and for the love of fuck, don’t waste the shit. you can tell it’s expensive, and good coke is hard to come by these days.

a few rounds of coke and a fair amount of talking later, taeyong and you are high as hell.

you, taeyong and yuta used to do some lines of coke just to have a bit of fun and feel more relaxed, not making it an addiction of course. you always know when to stop.

“ah,” you stand up. “i need a drink.”

“can you bring me one?” taeyong smiles at you.

you nod and walk to the kitchen. you’re sure everyone at this party is high as hell too, from weed to god knows what. you enter the kitchen and see mark making out with a random girl. you scoff passing next to them and open the fridge. “mmm where the fuck is the buzz?” you ask yourself.

“i’m pretty sure that’s not the place to look for it,” mark says, leaning against the counter next to you.

you frown and shake your head, releasing it’s not the fridge what you opened but the cupboard. you squint your eyes. “correct.”

you walk now to the real fridge and take a vodka bottle out. mark approaches you again and cups your jaw with one hand, looking straight into your eyes. “you are high.”

you shrug and yank your jaw free. “none of your business. go back to your blonde girl.”

“don’t mix drugs and alcohol. are you stupid?” he takes the bottle.

you laugh. “mind your business, mark.”

mark sighs and takes your hand taking out from the kitchen. you don’t know why but your legs won’t listen to you and follow him. you spot taeyong sleeping on the couch you were on minutes ago.

mark takes you out from the house and walks to his car. he helps you to get into the passenger seat and closes the door once you're settled in. he gets in the car as well and starts the engine driving.

you frown and turn to him. “where are you taking me?”

“you need a meal and orange juice,” he states, eyes on the road.

“i don’t want to sober up,” you pout.

“why the hell did you take that shit?” he almost groans.

“it’s a nice feeling,” you shrug, sliding a little on the seat.

“it’s bullshit,” he clenches his teeth.

“ah,” you laugh. “you have never been high, mark lee?”

“i don’t take that shit,” he turns to you. “and if you were smart you wouldn't do it.”

you roll your eyes. “you sound like johnny right now. i’m not an addict, by the way.”

mark parks at a convenient store and he gets off the car. he buys a hot dog and a bottle of orange juice. when he comes back, you have your eyes shut but you’re not sleeping.

you open them when you hear him getting into the car. he hands you the food and you take them. you eat in silence and when you finally finish your orange juice, you look at him. “happy now?”

“not happy,” he replies, resting his back on the backrest.

you stay in silence for a couple of minutes and you look around his car. the black and white interior are cool. “your car’s nice.”

“thanks.”

you press your lips together and stare at mark’s thighs. he has his hands resting on them and you eye at them. they’re pretty and seem soft. a vein popping out calls your attention and that’s when you realize he’s looking at you. you clear your throat and look straight ahead.

“you like my hands?” he asks.

“your ring is nice,” you reply.

mark cups your jaw again, making your face turn to him. “and what about my thighs?”

“n-nice jeans,” you scoff.

mark grins. “thanks.”

you hum in response. his touch against your skin on your face is warm, and you wonder how it’d feel against your p-

“a penny for your thoughts?” he tilts his head.

“i dislike you.”

mark laughs. “your body says a different thing.”

“i get chills just from the thought of me strangling you.”

“kinky,” mark stares at your lips.

“fuck you.”

the lights of the convenient store get turned off and the park is empty. mark never takes his eyes off of you, not sure if he should go for it. he’s thinking about it too much.

“fuck this,” you groan. “can you just fuck me here?”

“i thought you weren’t into car sex,” mark rubs your lower lip.

“i’m not,” you lick his finger. “but i really want to suck you off right now.”

“shit,” he hisses. “it’s all yours.”

your hand reaches for his belt and you undoit slowly, your eye darting to his. you unzip his jeans and palm his clothed dick. mark bites his lips, looking at you. you give him a peck while you take out his dick and stroke him a few times. it’s big and you can see some veins popping out. the tip is red, almost as if it’s angry. you bite your lip and look at mark. “you’re gonna ruin my mouth.”

mark smiles proudly. “just take it slowly, gorgeous.”

you lick mark’s cock to full hardness. mark takes a hand off the wheel and fists it in your hair, pushing you down onto his dick. letting out a long moan, mark throws his head back.

“fuck y/n,” mark pants out as you bob your head on his cock.

you continue to work on mark over with your mouth, tongue slipping and sliding over him, cheeks hollowed out adding the right level of pressure.

mark’s hand tightens in your hair and he starts to move your head more, clearly wanting to find his release. “fuck, you’re so good.”

you slightly bite his tip and you hear mark groan and tighten even more your hair. “shit y/n. no teeth.”

you do it again and he curses. mark shoots into your mouth and you swallow the salty load and lick him clean before putting him back in his jeans. you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and slide in your seat. “now i’m sober.”

mark’s comes back from his high and turns to you, still panting. “want to go to my place?”

“i’m sleepy.”

“sleep at my place.”

“i just gave you head, isn’t it going to be weird?” you look at him.

“nah,” he turns his car on. “i can sleep on the couch.”

mark takes the 5 driving to his place, blasting some 2000’s hip hop. and then he notices something odd.

a car.

that is following them since they left the parking lot.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, taking note of his sudden change of behavior.

“there’s a black car that has been following us since we left the parking lot,” mark murmurs.

“take the next exit to chinatown,” you look at him.

mark nods, eyes still focused on the view mirror. he can’t pick out exactly who it is. mark leaves the freeway, passing through the cars as fast as he can until he loses the car. he makes a sharp turn and takes the 101 before taking the 5 again. no sign of the car. he finally parks his car inside his building garage and helps you to get out of the car.

mark presses the buttons and unlocks the elevator. you rest your back against the elevator wall and shut your eyes together. “do you know who was following us?”

mark shakes his head. “no idea. you?”

“nope,” you look at him. “maybe some freak?”

“hopefully,” he leans next to you.

“how many floors until we get to yours?” you yawn.

“two,” he replies and smiles looking at you. “that tired?”

“it was a long day,” you shrug.

“can i help you to sleep like a baby?” he asks as the elevator door open.

you hum in response, exiting the elevator. mark stops in front of his door and unlocks it. he lets you in first and you’re surprised by how clean and organized his place is.

“your place is cool,” you say.

“thanks,” mark takes off his jacket and places it on the couch. “my bedroom is on the right, second door. i’ll be there in a minute.”

“ah,” you squint your eyes at him. “i told you i’m sleepy. i ain’t fucking with you tonight.”

“and we’re not,” mark replies from the kitchen. “i’m just gonna help you to sleep better. by eating you out.”

you gulp. “okay.”

you go to his bedroom and spot the comfortable big bed. you get off your leather pants and fold them, placing it on the couch next to the bed. thank god you’re wearing sexy panties.

you lay on the bed and rest your head in the grey covered pillows.

mark enters his bedroom and places a glass of water on the bedside table for you and whistles and he notices your white laced panties. “white is suddenly my favourite color.”

you giggle. “get to work, lee.”

mark laughs and lays on his stomach between your legs. his fingers find the hem of your panties and take them off, tossing them across the bed.

one of his hands moves down between your thighs and spreads your legs a bit more. he plants kisses on them and you sigh. “mark.”

he hums, passing a finger through your silk. “you’re soaked, gorgeous.”

mark is not exaggerating, his finger slides inside you with no resistance at all. your hips rock to match his pace. mark uses his palm to put pressure upon your clit, while his finger strokes your g-spot, causing you to cry out with pleasure. mark then licks you slowly and lightly from the bottom of your lips to the top of your clit.

“oh,” you moan.

mark licks your clit again, pressing his tongue a little deeper this time. you moan again and with the tip of his tongue, he works the slick, sensitive skin just beneath your clit. your hips rock back and forth over him, forcing his tongue across your clit and finally down to your opening. fingers still spreading you wide, he presses his tongue inside you as deep it will go. your muscles tighten around him. he slides his tongue back and forth across your opening, teasing you, and his hands strokes the smooth skin of your thighs, skim over your hips. he pushes his tongue inside of you as quick and hard as he can, and pulls it back out again. with every stroke, he feels you grow wetter and wetter.

“mark,” you gasp. “touch my clit.”

he pulls away from you just long enough to growl, “touch it yourself. touch yourself for me.”

mark pushes your hips back down over his face, and this time he swivels his tongue slowly and he pushes it inside. he can feel your fingers circling your clit now, the tip of your fingernails brushing against his hair with every stroke.

with your free hand, you seize his wrist and drag his hand over you until it’s on one of your covered breast. he squeezes it and doesn't let go, and he feels you tighten around his tongue one more time and he call tell you’re close by the volume of your hasp and cries. the muscles inside you ripple around his tongue as you come. you arch your back as he licks you clean and you moan again due the overstimulation.

before he pulls away he kisses the inside of your thighs again and looks at you smiling. “goodnight, baby.”

he hands you your panties again and you take them, putting them on. “you can stay here. it’s your bed after all.”

“not personal, but i don’t sleep comfortably with someone next to me,” mark wipes his chin and mouth with his hand. “whatever you need just take it, okay?”

you nod and hug a pillow. “thanks. turn the lights off please.”

the next morning, after mark tried to make breakfast and ended up spilling the banana smoothie all over your top, he gives you a ride back to your house wearing one of his shirts.

you enter the kitchen and johnny and jisung are having breakfast together. you open the fridge and take an apple. “good morning, where are your manners?” johnny teases.

“right here,” you lift your middle finger.

jisung slightly chuckles and keeps eating his breakfast. johnny shakes his head. “is this what you teach your little brother?”

jisung isn’t your real brother nor johnny’s, but you met him when he was a kid living by himself in the streets. he’s a nice kid and despite everything he has been through, he still believes that there is something good waiting for him.

“aren’t you late for school, jisung?” you ignore johnny.

jisung and johnny look at each other. “oh right. you haven’t been around for a year,” jisung nods. “i dropped out last semester.”

“what?” you frown. “why?”

“i don’t like college,” jisung shrugs. “i like racing. like you guys.”

“how could i not say no to him?” johnny looks at him. “he wants to race then he gets to do what he wants.”

“but you’re a kid!” you stare at him. “he’s a kid.”

jisung rolls his eyes. “you were my age when you started racing, y/n.”

you sigh and rub your forehead. “okay. fine, just… don’t get yourself killed.”

“i’m not stupid,” jisung smiles.

“hey, where were you by the way? taeyong said he saw you leaving with someone,” johnny stands up, washing his dish.

“a ran into an old friend,” you lie, leaning against the counter.

johnny squints his eyes, looking at you. “i’ve seen that shirt before.”

“i bought it when i was in seoul,” you say, nonchalant.

“didn’t know they sell canadian merch in seoul,” jisung mutters.

(...)

“no.”

that is yuta’s final word. he doesn’t want to be involved in that same shit again.

johnny sighs. “that doyoung and taeil guy will kill us if we don’t give them what they want.”

“i had to fake my death because of the shit i was making back in the past. i lost everything, johnny.”

“just cook some for us while we find someone better,” johnny begs. “please. i’m desperate.”

yuta sighs, rubbing his forehead. “fine, but just this time. no more, johnny.”

“thank you so much,” johnny says, relieved. he then scratches his head. “uhm, did you know y/n is back?”

yuta turns to him. “when?”

“about two weeks ago?”

yuta stays still and rests his hands on his hips. “how… how is she?”

“better. she's racing again,” johnny replies.

yuta nods. “she loves racing.”

“yeah.”

“when is she racing again?” yuta looks at johnny. “i want to see her.”

“are you insane? no one can see you.” johnny glances at him.

“and no one won’t. i just want to see her again, it’s been a while.”

“there’s a race tomorrow night. everyone will meet at the santa monica pier.”

“thanks. i’ll be there.”

the next night, you show up at the santa monica pier wearing mark’s shirt again. you say it’s nothing. you like the shirt and it looks great with your black ripped jeans. that’s it.

you spot mark with his gang on the other side of the pier. the same chick is with them and you assume she’s either part of it or friends with them. you frown when you see her getting too close to mark and he doesn’t pull her away. instead, he wraps an arm around her hips.

why do you care? mark was just a hookup.

you turn around and see jaehyun walking towards you. he’s wearing a white t-shirt and a denim jacket. you decide to make a trade.

“handsome boy,” you call him.

“that’s me,” he smirks playfully.

“i need a favour,” you say.

“sure. what is it?”

“i need your shirt.”

he knits his eyebrows together. “my shirt?”

you nod. “i don’t like this one anymore.”

he laughs. “i’m not gonna strip in the middle of everyone.”

“you’re such a pussy,” you groan.

your hands reach the hem of the shirt and you pull it over your head earning the glance of a few men that are around you. you turn to them. “never seen a pair of boobs? losers.”

jaehyun whistles at your black bralette. “oh man, i’d bang you easily.”

“don’t be gross, jaehyun. give me your shirt. i’m cold,” you stare at him.

jaehyun takes his jacket off and then his shirt, handing it to you. it smells like him and you have always liked his perfume. “maybe i’d let you bang me.”

jaehyun laughs and after he’s done putting mark’s shirt on, he puts on the denim jacket. “can i race with you tonight?”

“you want to see everyone lose, huh,” you smile, fixing your hair.

“it’s nice to see their defeated faces,” jaehyun opens the car door..

“let’s go then,” you smile.

you give a look to mark and you notice he’s watching you, eyebrows slightly frowned. you smile to yourself.

as you’re about to get into your car, you look up and notice someone standing on one of the building roofs in front of the entrance of the santa monica pier looking straight in your direction. you can’t see much, but the way the person stands up reminds you of yuta.

you shake your head and finally get into your car.

when you finally arrive at the secret destination, your car and mark’s are one of the few lined up. his car is next to yours and you refuse to make eye contact with him. jaehyun laughs softly. “what is the canadian boy staring at you?”

“because i am hot?” you shrug, still looking straight ahead.

“you are yes, but he seems mad,” jaehyun slyly looks at him. “what did you do to him?”

“nothing.”

jaehyun hums. he’s not stupid.

a flag girl places in front of the cars, the engines are rumbling. all eyes are focused on tonight’s racers. you are placed in a secretive parking lot. the flag girl points at mark, who starts his engines. she then points at you, who replicate that. your hands go up, and then down.

immediately a guy called jinyoung is ahead, but mark and you know that would happen sooner or later. see, a common mistake in drifters is that they are so focused on getting to the finish line they don't even spare a notice at their technique. the point of drifting isn’t just how fast you can go, but instead it’s precision, and making sure your form is on point.

you make flawless turn after flawless turn, but with mark in the lead. you reach for your NOS, but flinch your hand back. no. you are not using NOS for drifting tonight. you see mark make a mistake and his car loses control, earning a low growl from his throat. and past him is your nissan gtr, shining in the dark of night, and out of your window, your smug look is on your face. a smirk with your eyes low. the finish line is less than 20 feet away from your car, and you precisely turn your car, showing it off, having a sharp right.

you won.

and you have won that money. jaehyun is cheering with a wide grin on his face, clapping. “no fucking shit. you’re the best.”

you open the door of your car and mark sees you getting off with a seductive, and intimidating smirk on your face. god, he never wanted to fuck someone that bad until tonight.

#yuta x reader #yuta smut #yuta imagine #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee imagine #mark lee #yuta nakamoto #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct 127 x reader

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moonyblackwerewolf · 3 years

Text

Betrothed Ch. 1 - Sirius Black

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.653

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both.

warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, 'aggressive' parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: so this is just an idea for a possible series!! i never published anything before so i’m kind of scared but i really hope you like it!! :) xxx

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5

(not my gif)

Diner party

The Royal Manor of Watson was a cold palace, stone walls, rich decorations, sumptuous, but intimidating. The Watsons were cold people, living in a house too big for five people, but Y/N thought it was only fitting, since her parent’s ego was as big as the manor itself. Their pureblood mania deep in their minds, untouchable, which made their daughter’s life miserable. They were the perfect family on the outside but rotten in the inside, three children, Diana, two years older than Y/N, beautiful, smart and most importantly just as purist as their parents and William, tall, handsome, sophisticate and serious, he was the older sibling, three years older than Diana, he was already working with their father on the Ministry of Magic, daddy’s favourite. Home was big, impressive, a dream home if you saw it, libraries, uncountable bedrooms and living rooms, ball rooms, huge gardens, and everything you could ask for but it was far from being a welcoming home.

Though, all of her miserableness went away once she first went to Hogwarts. Of course, being sorted in Slytherin and having good grades was minimal when it came to living up to her parents’s expectations, which were high and if not complied there would most certainly have severe consequences, but still Hogwarts was more of a Home than the Watson Manor ever was.

Throughout the years, Hogwarts had become her first true home. There she felt the warm winds, the familiar feeling in the great halls, friendships, all she ever hoped for was there, a home, but not quite yet. She met Elizabeth Greengrass a blonde, tall thin girl with deep grey eyes and enviable beauty, Katherine Abbott who looked almost like Diana, but shorter, longer darker hair, blue-green eyes and thiner face. The three girls became best friends right after being sorted into Slytherin. Later on her second year she met Elijah Lestrange, through her sister, he was a year older, handsome and had a polite appearance. Y/N loved her friends but they shared the same blind beliefs her parents do, she’d always nod when they talked about mudblood, choosing not to create conflict, she couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, her parents couldn't disagree more, controlling they way they were, they were more than satisfied to know that their daughter’s inner circle contained only close family friends’s children.

The Marauders were quite famous for their pranks since first year, Y/N always admired their courage and wit, but her siblings and friends didn’t share the same opinion. When she was around them she’d always get a look from her sister, her brother or her friends would push her away, which only made them more interesting. Although, with time, she stopped trying and just kept living her life the way her family wanted her to.

Until summer break before 5th year, at least.

By then Sirius had already gained his bad boy reputation. Y/N had known Black for a long time, only by sight, his family was friends with hers and his cousin, Narcissa, hangs out with her sister, she’d see him in the pureblood elite parties they were forced to attend, they’d exchange glances but never talked. Sirius was once again being forced to go to some snobby party from snobby people. He couldn’t count in a thousand hands how many other places he’d rather be, but there he was sitting in a huge room full of people he despised, until a certain girl he recognised from other dinner parties and Hogwarts caught his attention, she was Remus’ partner in DADA, though he wasn’t sure, he never paid much attention in classes, pranking the student body was much more entertaining.

She caught his eye from a couch across the room. She was stunning, he thought, her slightly wavy H/C hair matching her S/C skin, freckled rosy cheeks and her alluring E/C eyes. Sirius only hoping she was different from the other brainwashed people in that house.

“Hey” Sirius said softly while he approached the girl that was, apparently, just as bored as he was, to his luck. “Not your scene, love?” He asked with his signature smirk on his face, wanting some good company for once at these afternoons.

“Not really” she chuckled, not knowing exactly what else to say, they weren’t close and she was a bit shy. But she was being honest, these parties were hell, full of families who thought too much of themselves, she didn't feel much like them, but she could fit in she was quiet and not nearly as loud as Sirius was about her beliefs. No one knew.

“By any chance would you know whose death palace are we on? I mean it’s huge but it looks like Salazar himself lived here, it gives me the creeps” he paused laughing “and my house it’s not a Hufflepuff common room or anything” Sirius said mockingly, not knowing exactly who he was talking with.

“Well” she chuckled awkwardly “It is my parents’, but i know, it’s not very homey, looks like a dark theatre or something and Salazar did live here, family heirloom” she laughed for real this time, she didn’t take it as an offence, if anything she couldn’t agree more.

“How come we never crossed each others path before?” Sirius asked wondering why they never talked on one of those parties or at school.

“I guess I usually just stay in the corners, like today” she chuckled.

The two of them bonded after talking for a while, they discovered that both of them hated these things, Sirius couldn't get how she managed to hide her feelings so well, she looked so much like them. After laughing, talking about school, Sirius was a part of the infamous marauders, telling stories and joking around, for the first time any of them could think of, they had fun in a family party, since Sirius’ friends weren’t pureblood except for Potter but his family had been banished from the sacred twenty-eight for being “blood traitors” and Y/N’s friends’ parents kept them at their side the whole time for “good image”.

Y/N stole a bottle of fire whiskey from the cellar and started showing the house to Sirius, while the two of them drank more than their bodies could handle, who was just as pleased as her for making fun of the paintings and carpets and the fancy but useless stuff their families valued so much. As they entered a room, particularly big and empty, Sirius had to catch his breath, Y/N and him started running through the halls before entering the room they were now on. He had only now realised that he had grabbed her hand, and apparently she hadn’t noticed until now too, making her blush furiously, releasing each other’s hand quickly and Sirius teased.

“getting comfy are we?” He smirked, as she blushed at his comment. They were very close, he could feel her breath catching. “Where would we be now, love?” He asked inching closer to her.

The both teenagers weren’t thinking straight anymore, the alcohol in their system already influencing their emotions. All they could think about, was how their touch felt electrical and the magnetic pull they were feeling towards each other, wondering how would their lips feel like. They just wanted to have fun, not caring about consequences that moment.

“Ball room” she said innocently but still a bit teasingly, not backing away from him as he inched closer to her “East wing, third floor, far away from where the party is going on, on the first floor” she bit her lip “But still very close to a room-” she said boldly wanting to see his reaction to her suggestions “-two doors away near a window at the end of the hall next to a beautiful painting of my favourite flowers” she said voice husky and breathy, making Sirius groan.

He chuckled low, “And may I ask you whose room is that?” They were now so close that their lips were slightly brushing.

“Why don’t you take me there and see for yourself” she said feeling a flip on her stomach and with a swift motion he lift her up bridal style, making her shiver at the contact, but then laughed, his hand gripping her body and legs tightly as he followed her instructions to get to her room. Once there, he settled her down on her bed and admired the girl in front of him, lust in his eyes. She smiled and bit her lip, she knew Sirius’ reputation, only one night stands, he was a ladies man, but she didn’t care, she wanted him, the fact that her mother would murder her if she ever found out only made it all more exciting.

Sirius took a look at the room, it wasn’t dark as the rest of the house was, it was still sophisticated, but nicer, the detailed wood on the wall was white and, above, the wall it self was light lilac, the room had big windows covered by delicate curtains and even had a balcony, and everything matched between the lilac and whites tones, she had a few paintings and pictures, and flowers, probably fake but still beautiful, the same flowers as on the darker painting outside, her four poster bed that matched the couches by the windows had delicate semi transparent white curtains and her silk white sheets were under a soft lilac blanket, she had a lot of silk pillows with subtle embroidered details on the corners, it was certainly appealing he thought, a beautiful room fit for a princess. Then he was brought back to reality.

“Do you think our parents are wondering where we are?” He asked with a still semi amazed look, it made her laugh, she patted the sheets next to her, inviting him to sit, he sat closely to her and then suddenly she went to the middle of the bed, which was big, pushing his wrists and they sat there, her legs crossed.

“They probably are” she affirmed giggly, she hadn't let his wrists go yet, she was holding it gently. “But, they won’t find us here, even though it’s pretty obvious that i’d hide in my room. Mom and dad wouldn’t leave the party” She paused and laughed “And well your parents certainly won’t come up here to my room i guess” He chuckled at her commentary.

“Well, well, miss perfect pureblood daughter escaping a dinner-party with the rebel Black son, who’d have thought” Sirius said dramatically, she laughed at him.

“Guess this Black here is just a bad influence on me, or… I just put on a good facade” she said more serious this time, voice low, eyes fixated on his. Her hand tracing their way up his arm, his gaze fixed on her movements. “And the fact that if mommy finds out i brought a guy to my room, and that he’s in my bed with me, would make her go crazy, only turns me on” Sirius let a little breathy moan escape his throat.

When Sirius looked at her she was already looking at him, lust all over her eyes. He trailed off just a little and asked, voice low “Y/N… are you sure you want this?” She nodded so he grabbed her waist and pulled her to his lap, he was holding her waist, lips brushing, he finally kissed her, the kiss felt electrical, it was slow and passionate at first but then I grew more heated. One of her hands was wrapped in his neck, the other was holding his chest going slowly lower, he was pulling her impossibly closer, the both couldn't get enough of each other. They had to pause for catching a breath, in the mean time Sirius leant over pushing Y/N down onto bed earning a tiny moan form her. They started kissing again, but this time was less passionate, more lustful and heated, Sirius started fiddling with her dress’ zipper and took it off slowly, undressing her, tracing kisses in each piece of newly exposed skin until she was only in her underwear, She, then, pushed his blazer off then started unbuttoning his shirt while kissing and sucking his neck making him moan. Once they were both in their underwear Sirius looked at her searching for a final consent, when she nodded, he took the rest of their clothes off.

“What do you want princess?” He asked kissing his way down from her cheek, to her jaw, neck, breasts and she moaned a little louder, the nickname turned her on even more. “Hmm??” He groaned waiting for her answer. “I want to her you say it”

“I… want you” she said between moans, after that she pulled his boxers down kissing him desperately, waiting to feel him against her in the most intimate way possible, the feeling was ethereal.

——————————

They laid in her bed legs tangled under the silk sheets, her head laid in his chest, his hands caressing her back while the other wrapped around her waist pulling her closer, making her shiver, the both of them catching their breaths while he stroke figure eights on her back inhaling her delicate floral floral scent. It felt heavenly to be there by his side, neither of them wanting to let go of one another, enjoying every moment before reality came back to them, but they knew they’ve been gone for too long, the party was probably ending.

“Sirius” she said voice as low as a whisper “This was nice” he smiled at her and pulled her to a kiss.

“Yes, it’s nice to have some fun in these events, and you love, are the most fun I could've had today” he said trailing his hand on her lower back “I mean, this is certainly the best place my parents could’ve dragged me to”. It made her chuckle. He never thought he’d fuck a girl his mother would approve and in one of their elite parties, but here he was, proof that Sirius Black always managed to corrupt girls, anywhere.

“Glad you liked it then” she said chuckling while she buried her head in his neck. But they couldn’t go on with this any longer. “You should go first” she said “Your parents are probably looking for you and it would be suspicious if we showed up together” she advised “Since the fact that we’re both missing from the party is already very much suspicious” she said laughing this time.

“Sure, love” he helped her get dressed before dressing himself and gave one last peck on her lips before getting out of bed. “See you” with a wink and that signature smile of his, he left, leaving her there with her thoughts about the events of this evening and the captivating boy, while rubbing her hands lightly where he left love bites on her neck, knowing she’d have trouble walking tomorrow and a bad headache from all the drinking. She decided it was best if she took a shower, changed into her pyjamas and if her parents show up there, she’d say she wasn't feeling well and wanted to sleep.

On his way back Sirius kept thinking about Y/N and how much they’re alike, she was the only nice person he met in one of those parties, she was a good kisser too. Starting to get confused on why he was thinking so much about the girl and the strange feeling she caused on him, but then assumed it was because of all the drinking, he didn't realise his mother, father and brother were waiting for him in the foyer and their faces weren’t kind, he knew it’d be a long night back home. But he didn’t care his only thoughts were about going back to Hogwarts and seeing her again.

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fishnets-fingers · 3 years

Text

Six Months - Part Four

Summary - Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together?

a/n - Please reblog! Come say hi! This is becoming a slow burn.

Word Count - 5839

Warnings - smut (not what you think). fluff. just two idiots that won’t admit that the like the other. one minor confession from one said idiot.

Masterpost (find previous parts here)

Layla opens the door to see Harry with a wicker picnic basket slung on his shoulder. He was wearing lilac trousers and a white shirt. He had his top buttons undone and his shirt was slightly see through. A cross was hanging on his neck and he had a soft smile on his face. Layla could make out a few tattoos on his torso, she wondered how many he had.

“Hey, you ready?” Harry stays as he steps into the house as Layla moves to the side.

“Yeah. Gimme a minute, I’ll go fetch the blanket. The sandwiches are on the counter. It’s guacamole swiss cheese. I also made some buffalo cauliflower. I hope that’s okay?”

“Sounds perfect. I made some lemonade. I have strawberries and watermelon. I also have a slice of chocolate cake.” Harry puts the sandwiches in his basket.

Layla comes into the kitchen with a picnic blanket folded on her forearms. "All set. Ready?”

“Yeah. You look beautiful, by the way.” Harry says shyly and Layla can feel her face heating up. She was wearing a white tennis skirt with an oversized black t-shirt tucked in. Her hair was in two boxer braids. She had put on some lip gloss, some eyeliner, and some sunscreen.

“Thanks. You don’t look too shabby yourself.” She says and walks to the door to lace up her shoes.

They both walk to the park in silence. Harry kept stealing glances at her ass and her legs as she walked a little in front of him.

The lake comes into view and Layla walks towards it a little faster. “Oh, this is stunning. I love love love water bodies,” she says looking at Harry with a giant smile on her face.

“Yeah. It’s a decent view. So, what do you say we set up shop here?”

Layla nods and spreads the picnic blanket on the grass a little further from the water. They both kick off their shoes and get settled on the blanket.

“This is nice,” Layla says. She stretches out her legs and throws her face back towards the sun. Her weight is mostly supported by her arms. “It’s sunny but you don’t sweat that much. It’s humid back home because of the beach, so you just sweat bullets immediately when the sun hits you.”

“Where is home exactly?” Harry says. His legs are bent at the knees and his arms hug them.

“Chennai. It’s a great city. It’s home and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You’re from London, right?”

“Hmm… born and raised. Unlike you, I’d trade it for some sunshine. It’s so bleak and gray all the time but it does have it’s charm. I’ll tell you that.”

“So… how does a twenty year old end up posting pictures on OnlyFans?”

“Wow. Jumping straight for the juicy part, huh.” Harry laughs.

“Sorry. I’m not one for small talk. Also, I’m slightly nosey.” Layla smirks. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

“Nah. I don’t know really. I just got home from a year long internship in the Arctic circle. A week or so later my parents told me they were gonna split up. A lot of money went into that. Mum decided to move here, and that burned a hole into her savings. I really didn’t wanna burden her or go into debt and I just stumbled across the site. I decided to give it a shot. Not a lot of boys in skirts and tights. I saw an opportunity there and here I am, I just hit 40k followers last night. I charge 20 dollars for a subscription each month. I don’t do the whole pay per view. Taking pictures, coming up with concepts, buying stuff, and editing is a little exhausting. Clothes are just clothes, you know. I have an Instagram - that you found- and a twitter for promo. I’ve already saved up quite a bit of money. I’ll head back to college after I've hit my target savings.”

“That sounds like a full- time job. I’ve always thought it was easy. You post a picture here and there and bam hundreds and thousands of dollars. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“So, Layla, what brings you here?”

“Burnout. Total fucking burnout. Definitely want to get a PhD though - behavioural neuroscience. Just not now. I want some peace.”

“So what? Just roll on the bed and watch TV for a few months. Sign me the fuck up” Harry says.

Layla laughs. “Not quite. I’m planning to write a paper or two. I already have an idea - how gender studies in psychology are rooted in a binary system and why they need to look at it as a spectrum. I have a few reading materials bookmarked. I’ll sub in for one of my professors mid November. But other than that, yeah, roll on the bed, watch TV and explore the country a little.”

“That’s not a break! You are still doing a lot.”

“Not really. I really want to write something for ecopsychology. Definitely would help to have an environmentalist by your side.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Harry smirks at her.

Layla raises her eyebrow.

“Mostly did science and environmental science for my A levels. Interned with one of Britain's top climate scientists.”

“That’s impressive! Will you help me, if need be?”

“I’d love to.”

“Alright, enough talking. What do you say we get some food into our bellies?” Layla asks.

Harry pulls out the sandwiches, the cauliflower, the lemonade and the fruits. Layla eats some strawberries, and Harry takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Mmm… this is delicious.”

“Thank you,” Layla says as she blushes.

Harry watches her as she bites into the strawberry. His cock twitches at the sight. “So um,” he clears his throat. “Have a boyfriend or a girlfriend back home?”

“Lol nope. Never really been on a date. Never really liked anyone. I’ve never had the chance to too. All girls convent. Women’s college for my Masters and Bachelors. The only boys in my life are my cousin’s and my friend’s boyfriends. What about you? Special someone here? Back home?”

“I’m a single pringle as the kids say. Had a girlfriend in high school. Broke it off in my senior year.”

Layla takes a bite of her sandwich and Harry sips on his lemonade. “Harry, I’ve been meaning to say. I love your nails. I really like the colours you’ve picked.”

“Thank you.” Harry was red. No one has really complimented his nails before. He usually got a few stares here and there every time he wore something other than black.

“I’m curious. How many tattoos do you have? When did you start?”

“I really don’t know, to be honest. Lost track. More than fifty, I’d say. Started when I was seventeen. Once I got one, I just wanted more, you know? What about you?”

“No tattoos. Although, I really want one. But my mom would kill me. I have a couple of ideas in mind. I like the small ones artistically. I do have a few piercings though. I have one on each lobe. Pretty standard. I got my helix done on my left ear when I was 20. I know what you mean with wanting more. Once my helix healed up, I just wanted another and another. Restraining myself has been a bit hard. Are you done having tattoos? Or would you want more? I personally do not love a sleeve but I think you could pull it off.”

“I think I’m done. It’s expensive to maintain. I still have to go once in a while and get it retouched.”

“Oh, almost forgot.” Harry says. He takes out a small box with a big slice of chocolate cake. Here he says handing her a spoon.

Layla takes a bite, throws her head back and moans with her eyes closed. “Fuck! These are so good! Where did you get it?”

“I made them,” he says shyly scratching the back of his head.

“Jesus fuck. They are scrumptious. Perfectly moist. You have a gift.”

“I used to work in a bakery as a teenager. If you want I’ll bake more and bring it over to your place.”

“Thank you. Another reason to get more fat? Sign me the fuck up!”

“Layla, you are not fat.”

“Eh. So? What kind of movies do you like?”

“Um,” his cheeks heat up. “I like rom coms.”

“Oh please! That’s not the truth. I bet that’s what you say to impress all the girls.” Layla laughs. “Really! What do you like?”

“I’m not lying! I love The Notebook. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve watched it.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You are the first boy that I met that likes rom coms.”

“What about you?”

“Sci Fi. Horror. Love me some good gore. I also love Disney movies.”

“They are two opposing sides on the spectrum.”

“What can I say? I’m a walking contradiction.”

Harry laughs.

They keep chatting while eating the cake. Some chocolate smears in the corner of Layla’s mouth. Harry absentmindedly reaches over and wipes it off with his thumb and puts it into his mouth to suck the chocolate off. Layla blushes profusely and thanks him. They stay there for an hour or so. Layla takes a spray on sunscreen and reapplies it on the exposed parts of her body.

“Here,” she hands the bottle to Harry. He raises his brows. “Do you not reapply your sunscreen every three hours?”

Harry laughs. “I barely remember to apply it once.”

“That won’t do. Put this on.”

Harry does so. They both fall into a comfortable silence as they lay beside each other and watch the sunlight reflect off the water. As promised, Layla puts on her ‘slut song’ and passes Harry a headphone. Harry giggles at the English translation. “Hey, if you make fun of it, I’ll end you.” They settle back into silence. The sunlight glints off the water making it seem golden. They are both startled by Layla’s phone buzzing. It was Heidi on Facetime.

“Sorry, I’ve got to get this. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Harry says as he sits up.

“Hi.” Layla says as she accepts the call.

“Hey, Lails! You busy? I need a small favour.”

“Not really. I’m having a picnic with my neighbour Harry.” She turns her phone, so he’s in frame.

“Hello.” Harry says and waves.

“Oh, hi there.” Heidi grins. “So you asked h-”

“Okay. Why did you call?” Layla says and whips the phone back to her.

“Okay. My professor wants us to read and review this paper for like 500 words. I really don’t understand it. I’ve read it twice now. Can you just go over it and help me figure out what they are trying to say? Please.”

“Okay. Send it to me and I'll send you a voice note in say four/five hours.”

“Alright. Thanks. Bye, Lails. Bye, Harryyyy.”

“Bye, you idiot.” Layla hangs up.

“She seems fun. So, Lails, huh?”

“Hmmm.”

Harry takes a few pictures of Layla by the lake. She mostly just awkwardly stands there smiling and throws up peace sign. Layla takes one of Harry smiling, and then pulling a goofy face. A couple who were walking together offers to take a picture of the two of them when they see Layla taking a selfie of the two of them. Layla gives them her phone and Harry throws an arm around her shoulders. She slightly leans her head on his chest and they both smile at the camera. Layla thanks them and they both pack up and walk home.

////

“So, you wanna come over to watch a movie?” Harry asks.

“I’d like that.”

Harry keys into his house and they both sigh when the cool air from the central hits them. “Umm.. There's a bathroom down the hall to the left, if you wanna use it.”

Layla nods and walks towards the bathroom. Harry quickly runs up stairs to his room to use the bathroom. He finds Layla on the couch scrolling on her phone when she gets back.

“I’ve sent the pictures to you,” she says.

“Thanks. So what do you wanna watch?” Harry pulls up Netflix on the TV.

“I’m not really in the mood to watch anything new. How about Enchanted?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Okay now you HAVE to watch it! It’s such an underrated Disney movie.”

Harry puts it on and curls up on the couch next to her. Halfway through the movie, he notices Layala shiver slightly.

He opens the ottoman and pulls out a knit blanket. He scoots closer to her, drapes it over her lower half and puts some on him. Layla smiles at him. Harry feels butterflies in his tummy. She mouths the word to the songs and Harry can’t help the smile on his face as his eyes drift to her every so often. She is so fucking adorable, he thinks.

They get towards the end, where Gisele shows up to the ball and they take her coat off.

“Wait a damn minute!” He says as he pauses the movie. “She makes such pretty, intricate dresses and she shows up to THE ball wearing THAT?”

Layla laughs. “I know right! Such a travesty.”

The movie ends. “Thank you for today. I had so much fun. I should get going,” she says as she stands up.

“No problem. I had fun hanging out with you,” he says as he follows her to the door.

“What’s this?” Layla points to a whiteboard that has a calendar drawn on it with some writings.

“Oh. Mum always puts up our schedules on the board, so we can keep a track of each other. She has a 24 hour shift today. See!” Harry points.

“So, Anne won’t be back tonight?” Harry shakes his head. “What will you do for dinner then?”

“I can whip something up. It’s no problem,” Harry says.

“Hey. Come over for dinner. It’s Dosa night. Have you had a chance to try one?” Harry shakes his head. “Then you have to come over. It’s a sin to not let your taste buds have that experience.”

Layla says as she pulls on his hands towards the door and pouts with puppy dog eyes. It’ll be a sin if I pass up this offer when she’s being so cute, he thinks. He makes his way towards the door with her.

“Yay!” Layla says as they make their way towards her house.

////

Layla comes down the stairs after sending voice notes to Heidi as promised. Harry had a good time at dinner with her Uncle and Aunt. He now declared himself “a masala dosa convert.” She sees Harry helping her Aunt with the dishes. Her Uncle is cutting up some cupcakes and putting them in a plate with some fruits on the kitchen table. She joins him and helps him to plate the cupcakes.

“So, Lails, how was your picnic? Did he try anything?” Her Uncle whispers.

“Oh my god, stop it. Why would you even say that? He did not. He’s been super respectful.” She whisper screams. “I’m sure he doesn’t even like me.”

“Oh, that boy likes you alright. He smiles like a loon every time he looks at you.”

“We’re just friends.”

Harry and Abi walk into the living room.

“Desert’s ready.” Your Uncle says.

You guys play Pictionary and soon the house is filled with laughter. Harry leaves around 10 and you all head to bed.

Layla finishes her nightly routine, gets into bed and calls her parents. She hangs up and gets comfy on the bed and starts researching and reading some articles for her paper. She puts her phone on ‘do not disturb’ and puts on some songs on her laptop and puts her headphones on.

////

Harry tidies up around the house and goes to his room. He can see Layla’s legs on her bed and suddenly has an idea.

“Layla,” he says going near his desk.

“Laylaaaa,” he says a little louder. No response. He doesn’t want to scream and wake the neighbourhood.

“Layla. Layla. Lails!” Again, no response.

“Ugh,” he says in an exasperated tone. He tears off a sheet of paper and gets to work.

////

Layla has nasty on full blast. She’s really enjoying the new Positions album. She’s busy highlighting some text and taking down notes when she feels something land on her feet. Startled, she puts her laptop aside and crawls towards the end of her bed to find a paper plane. She looks over the window to find Harry standing by his desk pointing to the paper airplane.

She looks at it and turns it around. There was a note: ‘Do you wanna walk around downtown tomorrow?’

She smiles and walks over to the window. “Your penmanship is horrible,” Layla laughs.

“Oi! No, it’s not.”

“This is the definition of chicken scratch,” Layla cracks up.

“You know what they say intelligent people have terrible handwriting.”

“No one says that.”

“Answer the question. Yes or no.”

“Yes!” She says enthusiastically. “What’s with the paper planes?”

“I’ve been calling your name for a couple of minutes and no response.”

“Sorry. I was doing some research and I had my headphones on. It’s impressive that it landed on my bed, it’s like fifteen feet or so.”

“I’m sure you can do it too. It’s all in the wrists.”

“If I did that, it’ll definitely flop.”

Harry laughs. “Maybe we can communicate like this, when we know the other is in the room. This way you can practice making a paper airplane fly fifteen feet.”

“Alright. Never hurts to learn a skill. See you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Night,” he says. They both shut their windows and draw their blinds.

////

Layla and Harry had a great time exploring downtown. They each had a soft serve they were furiously licking before the sun could melt it. They walk towards the flower shop and see Earl changing the sign.

“Hi!” They both say.

“Goodness! Look who we have here Harry and the gorgeous Layla,” he says.

“Earl! I told you already. Your efforts are futile. If only you were two years younger,” Layla laughs.

Earl lets out a hearty laugh. “Can’t blame a man for trying. What are you two up to?”

“We went exploring. Layla picked up some paints at the crafts store. We’re heading home for lunch,” Harry says.

“Well, I’m just closing up the shop for my lunch break. Come on up. We could have lunch together,” Earl says. “And before you two protest, I insist,” he adds. He opens the door and ushers them inside.

They walk upstairs to his house. It’s quaint and mostly light wood. It’s spacious.

“Do you live here alone?” Layla asks. Harry throws both their tissues that came with the ice cream in the bin.

“Yup. My children and grandchildren come over every Christmas. I go over to Florida to one of their houses for Thanksgiving. They pop over here during spring break sometimes.”

“Earl, can I use your bathroom?” Harry asks and walks over to it as Earl nods.

You and Earl walk towards the kitchen. “So, how would you like a sandwich? Or some salad? I can whip up something pretty quick,” Earl says.

“No no. I’ll cook. You just sit here on this island and give me company. It’s the least I could do after you invited us to eat. I insist. You can help by chopping up some veg?” Layla says. “Please I love to cook,” she says with a small pout.

“Alright, can’t really say no to that face,” Earl says and sits down and Layla gets to work. She finds the ingredients to make some Arrabbiata pasta. Harry joins the two of them in the kitchen.

Harry and Layla cook in tandem while Earl tells them a few stories from his childhood. They were laughing and having a jolly time.

“Layla, this is delicious! Can’t believe you made that sauce from scratch.” Earl says after he swallows a bite.

“It’s no biggie.”

“She always does that you know Earl. Does not know how to take a compliment.” Harry gives her a slight nudge.

“So, you two out on a date earlier?”

Harry and Layla both choke on their food. Layla starts coughing and Harry immediately hands her a glass of water.

“No. We were just- we were just out and about,” Harry says as she drinks water.

“Yeah. Just out and - out and about,” Layla says coughing slightly.

The rest of lunch goes by quietly. Harry and Layla wash the dishes and Earl dries them.

“I’m gonna use the restroom. Excuse me,” Layla says and walks over.

“You know, Harry. I’ve known you for a year now.”

“Yeah?” Harry says.

“All I’m saying is that life is short. And that girl right there, she’s perfect for you, lad. I don’t know what you are waiting for. Or her for that matter. Just ask her out, will you?”

“I’ve been trying to. I don’t know if she likes me like that,” Harry says quietly.

“Excuse my crudeness but the fuck are you saying?!? The sexual tension between the two of you is almost palpable.”

“Sexual t-“

“Harold. I’m 72. I know sexual tension when I see one.”

Harry is about to say something but stops when he hears the bathroom door shut.

“Alright. Thanks for lunch Earl. I’ve put some leftovers in the fridge. I’ll swing by next week with all the ingredients. I’m so excited to learn. I can’t believe you lived in New Orleans and learnt how to make gumbo.”

“I haven’t made it since Christmas. I’m excited too,” Earl says.

The two of you walk towards the door.

“Thank you so much for giving this old man some company. It was nice. The house is quiet most of the time. This was a nice change,” Earl says.

Layla hugs him. And Harry does the same.

“I’m gonna take a nap. I open the shop only in the evening. There’s a spare key in the drawer near the till. Lock up when you leave. Keep the key. I have more spares. This way you can let yourselves in when you want,” he says.

“Okay,” Harry says and the two of them head downstairs. Layla finds the key and the two of them let themselves out. She locks up and pulls on the door to check for good measure.

They both walk home in silence.

“Hey, Har.”

“Hmm.”

“I think we should hang out with Earl whenever we can.”

“I was thinking of the same thing. We could visit him every other day.”

“That’s a good plan,” Layla says.

Their arms brush each other and Harry jumps a little. She looks at him, clasps his hand and intertwines their fingers. It was quite a bold thing for Layla to do. Harry looks down at their hands and smiles. He’s beat red. Layla smiles. They both walk home all giddy.

“Well, I had fun today,” Layala says as they reach their house. She turns to look at him.

“Me too. Do you wanna come over later? We could watch a movie or do whatever?” Harry says scratching the back of his head.

“I’d love to but I’m sure you mum will need some peace and quiet when she gets home after her shift. I also have some stuff left to do for my gender paper. See you in the morning for a walk?”

“I’d like that,” Harry says. Layla bounces on her feet nervously and looks up at him. Neither wanting to leave. Harry really wants to kiss her but doesn’t want it to happen in front of their houses. He wants it to be somewhere special. Layla deserves something special, he thinks. He hugs her and they both go into their houses.

////

The next few weeks go like that. Harry and Layla hung out together almost every single day. They’d watch a movie, read a book, or Layla would paint Harry’s nails. When Harry offers to paint hers, she declines saying that she’s too anal and would lose her mind even if there's a small chip or she would chip them off herself. They became fast friends. They’d constantly laugh whenever they are together. They’d go around exploring nearby areas in Harry’s car while singing around to whatever was topping the charts. Harry learnt that Layla was the kind of person who does not like creating playlists because she never went back to them. So she’ll carefully make a queue by meticulously searching the songs at the start of any drive based on her mood that day. They went for karaoke night at the local pub and Harry was surprised to see a slightly tipsy Layla flawlessly spit out Lose Yourself.

They’d have lunch with Anne if she was home. Anne loved having Layla around, he was happy to see Harry enjoying himself with a friend. Layla started painting again. Harry would sometimes stay over at Layla’s and have game nights with her folks. They would go over and spend some time with Earl, either cooking or hanging out with him at the shop while helping him tidy up. As promised, Earl taught Layla how to make gumbo. She picked up all the ingredients at the farmer’s market and went over to Earl’s in the evening. Harry couldn’t join them as he was busy taking pictures, editing, and queuing them up for his OnlyFans. They had so much gumbo that Layla had to ask her Uncle to give her a ride home because she couldn’t walk home carrying that giant pot. She gave some to Harry and Anne, too.

Layla’s Aunt has been feeling a bit off lately. She was tired and had a few dizzy spells. She would work remotely from home, when she was extremely tired. Layla would sometimes curl up next to her in the master bedroom and work on her paper. She was close to finishing her first draft.

Their trip to smoky mountains was this weekend. Harry was over at Layla’s one evening. They both put on the newer version of Evil Dead, after brainstorming a few topics for their paper, and were curled up on the couch. Layla had her head on Harry’s shoulder and his arm was thrown around her.

“I really don’t understand how you can still eat while watching so much gore.” Harry cringes when the girl slits her tongue open into two with a blade.

“Like this,” Layla says as she scoops a huge handful of popcorn and stuffs it into her mouth and makes a show of chewing it. “Don’t shit on one of my comfort movies.”

“I say this with utmost care, but Lails, you are fucked in the head. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Layla laughs. “You think I’m cute?” she says with a pout.

“You know I think you’re cute,” he says as he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. He leans in slightly towards her.

Layla looks up at his lips. As she leans in, the door opens.

“Hey, kids!” Her Uncle and Aunt say in unison.

They both jump apart.

“Umm.. hi,” Layla says.

“You okay Harry? Look a bit red. You want me to turn the AC up a little? ” Abi says with concern.

“No. No. It’s okay. It’s the movie,” Harry lies pointing to the TV on the wall.

“Oh no. Please don’t tell me she has you watching Evil Dead. Lails! It’s not a fun thing to watch. Remember when you forced your cousin and he puked on the bed?” Her Uncle says.

“It’s not my fault he’s a wimp.” She crosses her arms. “Anyway, why are you both late today?”

“We went to my friend’s house-”

“We hit a drive through-”

They both say at the same time. Layla narrows her eyes at the two of them

“We went over to a friend’s place and I was craving a McFlurry and we stopped on our way home.” Abi says.

“Oookaay.” Layla says unconvinced.

“Alright, I’m gonna head back home. Thanks for having me. Lails, no thanks for the movie, "Harry says and Layla flips him off.

As he heads to the door Layla’s uncle calls his name.

“Harry, we got talking yesterday and wanted to ask you if you would like to join us on the trip on Friday? We booked a couple’s massage and we don’t want Layla saying ‘gross’ every five minutes while getting them done. I know she’ll be fine to hang out by herself but we just thought it’ll be more fun if you tag along. Don’t worry about the money. We got it covered. I’m gonna ask your mum tomorrow if she wants to join as well. What do you say?” Vasanth says.

“I’d love to, Vasanth. It’ll be fun to explore; I’ve never been. I don’t know about mum’s schedule but I know she won’t have a problem with me being away for the weekend. Thank you.”

They nod at each other and leave.

After dinner and a movie Layla heads upstairs to find a paper airplane on her bed. She smiles and reads the note: ‘Looks like you’ll be stuck with me this weekend. You wanna go to a club tomorrow night?’

Layla quickly gets a blue pen and starts writing on the other side. ‘Who do you think suggested that it’ll be fun if you came along? ;) Also, yes to dancing at the club but are there any here?’

She tries launching it to his bedroom but the paper plane falls short of the window. Layla rolls her eyes, closes the window, draws the curtain, and texts him the same.

Harry: oh can’t get enough of me huh? ;) there’s one in Raleigh. you couldn’t just send me the paper airplane back huh lol

Layla: trust me i did. It’s on the walkway below your window :( We’ll leave around 7:30 tomorrow? I won’t be out for a walk tomorrow. I have a video call with my professor about the paper. Soz.

Harry: lol i just saw the paper plane on the ground. Looser. :( for the walk but :) for the club.

Layla: goodnight.

Layla goes to the bathroom to take a shower. She texts the girls for an update.

Potatz: Almost kissed tonight. We were on the couch, watching a movie and he brushed some hair away from my face. At least that’s what I think it was. My Aunt and Uncle walked in and he left, he was flustered a bit. Maybe we’ll talk tomorrow when we are going to the club. Maybe I’ll jump him when I have some alcohol in my system.

Potatz (Grace): Girl, you just need to woman up and ride his dick.

The others liked Grace’s message.

Layla groans in frustration and drifts off to sleep.

////

Harry gets into bed and sighs. Why did her folks have to walk in at that moment? He wonders how soft her lips would be. Would they have stopped with just a kiss or two or would they have made out? He really wanted to taste her. Her scent was intoxicating. It was a tiny bit floraly with an undertone of a woody musky scent. Sometimes when they cuddle, in a totally platonic way, he closes his eyes and takes a whiff off of her perfume. He groans as he looks down to find a tent in his boxers. He was not in the mood to jack off tonight, especially to the thought of Layla, when she’s just a few feet away.

////

Layla and Harry are back at the lake. She’s wearing her white tennis skirt and a see through top. Harry could make out her nipples that were pebbled because of the air.

She bites into a strawberry and offers him the rest by bringing it up to his lips.

Harry takes a bite of the strawberry and gentles bites into the pad of her thumb.

Layla moans, a throaty moan. Harry cups her cheek and brings her close to him. She leans in a bit and suddenly they are kissing.

Their teeth clash. His tongue invades her mouth. He bites down on her bottom lip. They were softer than he could ever imagine. She tasted like the strawberries they were eating.

Harry cups her breasts and her hands palm him through his pants. His breathing hitches.

He lifts her and places her on his lap and she starts grinding on his crotch. Whimpers escape from each other. Harry runs his hands up her thighs, his nails scratch up from her knees and the snake their way into her panties.

She is wet. He teases her clit by rubbing slow circles, barely touching her. Layla throws her head back and Harry uses the opportunity to start planting open mouthed kisses on her neck.

“I need you inside of me, Harry, right now,” she says, almost in a whiny tone. Her palms cupping his cheeks as her dark brown eyes stare into his green orbs.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He flips her over, slides her panties down her legs and tosses them on the grass. He lowers his pants so his dick springs free. He snakes his hands under her shirt and cups her breasts with both his hands, he leans down and kisses her as he thrusts in.

They both let out a sharp cry into each other's mouths.

////

Harry wakes up with a start. He feels a bit disoriented when he looks around to see the familiar surroundings of his room creeping in. His body is laced with sweat, he looks down to find a sizable wet spot on his boxers.

Great! A wet dream. What am I thirteen?!? He thinks as he walks over to his bathroom to get rid of his boxers and to clean himself up.

As he walks back to bed, he looks over to see Layla’s window shut and the drapes closed. He sighs. He is disappointed that it was a dream and that he was not there by the lake with Layla ravishing her. He’s disappointed that their moment was interrupted earlier. He’s disappointed that he didn’t get to feel her lips on his.

“We really need to talk tomorrow. Maybe we can on the drive to Raleigh.” He mutters and gets into bed. “I’m losing my mind.”

Harry’s never been this way around a girl before. He usually takes them out, fucks them, treats them right, and finds another. He’s never wanted someone so bad. Not just sexually. He wanted all of Layla. Her laugh, her love, her wit, her sarcasm, her humour, her intellect, her view of the world, and her willingness to jump in and take care of others. He’s never felt this way about another person before, not even his highschool girlfriend of seven months.

Harry Styles was fucked. And the reason he was fucked was fast asleep in her bed just a few feet away from him.

#harry styles #harry styles fics #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles series #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles yn #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #onlyfans!harry #indian!oc #fem!reader #six months #fishnets-fingers #come say hi #please leave tags if you reblog

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twstdreams · 4 years

Note

HC for enemies--friends--lovers please! With Epel, Ace, Floyd💛

Everyone is a sucker for enemies to friends to lovers, including me, but that is quite a long process so I changed it to enemies to friends to crush! I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Floyd’s section contains bullying and not respecting personal boundaries, long post

Includes spoilers for episode 1

Epel Felmier

Enemies

You two start off on the wrong foot when Epel thinks you’ve misgendered him. You were pointing towards him and giggled with your friend, saying, “She’s so cute!”

Epel immediately shuts you down and tells you that he’s a man

Being called out so publicly shocks you, especially since you were referring to the familiar beside him. But eyes are starting to linger your way, so you decide to stay silent. Besides, why was he even listening in to your conversation?

Epel is annoyed because he takes your silence for shame. You feel uncomfortable because of both the unwanted attention and the fact that Epel confronted you so publicly instead of approaching you personally, preferably without the class staring.

Friends

Neither of you make an effort to approach the other, perfectly content staying in your own circles until you’re forced to be lab partners. It’s a little awkward but you both know Crewel doesn’t give easy assignments, so you put aside memories of your first impressions of each other.

Here and there little bits of conversation sneak in. Discussing the latest assignment while waiting for something to reduce, complaining about the mess the ghost wedding made while distilling this or that, talking about favourite foods in the cafeteria while sharing notebooks to write down qualitative and quantitative observations

The two of you find out your common interests and take turns letting each other gush. Your relationship with Epel improves and your feelings towards him morph into something more pleasant

At the end of the experiment, you get the courage to sincerely apologize and clear air. From there, the two of you become friends.

You encourage him to go for a manly aesthetic if that’s what makes him happiest while providing your opinions to help him widen his viewpoint. He appreciates the support and discovers more sides to you as your friendship continues

Crush

He loves the way your eyes sparkle when he carves all sorts of creations out of apples but crinkles his nose when you suggest he make one that looks like a Nashi pear

You two sneak out and have yakiniku to celebrate the end of exams!

Epel feels like he can be himself without reservation around you. He’s never been one for romance or flowery gestures, but as much as he’s nervous to admit it, the feelings he has for you have bloomed into something beyond friendship. And the nervous butterflies that erupt in his stomach every so often aren’t from some botched potion either

You admire Epel’s persistence and hardworking spirit, but even more than that you crave his attention and affection in a unique way. You see Epel’s apparent distaste for romance when topics like true love’s kiss or love poems come up, so you hide your feelings. Unfortunately, even in the darkness, they continue to grow

Ace Trappola

Enemies

When you first meet Ace Trappola, you are not impressed. He radiates little sibling energy in the worst way. You can just feel that he was the youngest that tried to get away with everything with sweet words and a cheeky smile

His lack of filter is annoying but more importantly he seems to be on Riddle’s hit list. With hopes of avoiding getting collared by the dorm leader, you swiftly avoid the troublemaker. Someone who nearly got expelled and subsequently punished by Riddle on the same day was not someone you wanted to hang out with.

Unfortunately, luck is not on your side. You were minding your own business while tending to the flamingoes only to find yourself suddenly embroiled in his harebrained scheme to skip chores.

Ace pretends to help you out but Riddle catches him in the act and now the two of you are in trouble! You, for hiding Ace, and him for trying to avoid his responsibilities. The hundreds of rules you have to copy by hand are enough to fuel your hatred for the redhead

Friends

You actively avoid Ace until he stands up to the dorm leader. Quite frankly, since he needed to punch Riddle to get the message through, his communication skills definitely leave something to be desired. However, his action, as clumsy as they were, bring about good change for the dorm and Riddle

You’re still a little weary, Riddle isn’t that lenient even after relaxing and Ace is as blunt as ever, but you have a newfound understanding of Ace

The two of you get closer bit by bit. One day, you’re partners to paint roses, having fun practicing casting spells and perhaps keeping quiet about a hedgehog that turned lilac for a bit.

The next day, you’re casually chatting while playing croquet at an Unbirthday party

Another day, you let Ace have the last slice of cherry pie in exchange for him teaching you a cool card trick he showed you the day before. Little things keep adding up, intertwining your lives closer together

Crush

Eventually, you watch Ace play basketball. He describes it as a casual practice but you can’t help but be drawn in by his playing style. Ace looks so cool during the scrimmage, interrupting his opponent’s offence with ease and changing the tide of the game in an instant!

His spatial awareness shines through when all it takes is a quick glance at the hoop for him to take a shot. Your heart may have skipped one too many beats when the basketball flew into the net.

As the days pass, you find yourself looking forward to his teasing. Sometimes he actually manages to fluster you! Otherwise, you two enjoy a casual banter. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you ignore the butterflies in your stomach

Floyd Leech

Enemies

Are you scared of Floyd? Why yes you are, which is why you go out of your way to avoid him. The way Savanaclaw students quake in fear when they accidentally bump into Floyd is enough to confirm that you should steer clear of the belligerent eel

Unfortunately, this sentiment is one sided. Floyd has taken to calling you glass catfish because you’re both horribly skittish around him and your terror is clear! He thinks it’s cute how you assume crowds will keep you safe and you do your best to not be alone.

Quite frankly, it’s a one-sided animosity. Floyd thinks you’re funny while your torment is his pleasure. You try to keep your calm but his relaxed comments of breaking bones and the looming threat of being squeezed keeps you on your toes

Honestly, you’re a little miffed. First of all, why is he so fast? Secondly, there must be others to scare. You’re sure Azul gives him enough work in that aspect. And finally, how are you supposed to memorize all these mushroom species and history facts when Floyd has deemed you his current favourite squeaky toy?

Friends

You always assumed Floyd’s squeeze would be a horrible experience of organs being rearranged and the nasty sound of something snapping. So when the first time he embraces you and it’s the feeling of warm, strong arms curling around you protectively, your brain short circuits

You had been fuming and more than a little annoyed so when you crossed paths with some rowdy students, instead of spitting out some standard apology and being on your merry way, you snapped back! And, like most students at NRC, they didn’t take kindly to it.

It feels ironic that you had avoided Floyd so fervently but in the end, you only had yourself to blame for stirring up trouble. Magic battles were most definitely against the rules but you didn’t have any intentions on letting some fireballs scorch you either

Yet your opponents quickly withdraw when Floyd chimes, “Let me join in!~” And for once, you’re happy that Floyd is around. It must show on your face because in the midst of drawling about how boring it is now that the tension is gone, he breaks out into a smile

“You’re grinning glass catfish!” It’s the first time Floyd ever makes you smile and it’s far from the last

Your friendship is very much a give and take affair. You learn to go with the flow, but you put your foot down as necessary. More than you expect, Floyd can be amendable to your demands. He’s still as chaotic as ever though, hedonistic almost to a fault

Crush

You two have a takoyaki adventure! Cooking with Floyd is nothing short of chaotic. For the first half, he’s bored and pacing around. You chop up ingredients and he not so secretly snacks on them. Then when it’s time to fry the takoyaki in the molds, he’s suddenly over-pouring batter and eating them almost as fast as you make them! By the end, you didn’t even get to take a picture of the takoyaki you two made but his goofy grin and lips covered in sauce engrain themselves into your memory

“I could eat you up too!” he comments with his signature laugh and it does dangerous things to your heart.

“Please don’t!” you squeak out hastily but you can’t help the flush of heat that comes with embarrassment nor the hasty hand gestures as you avoid his gaze. Your pulse starts to increase rapidly, but you know it’s not out of fear

You won’t complain of boring days anymore. For now, you let the current take you where it will. And if that destination happens to be romantic, well you’re not one to fight the waves

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst headcanons #twstdreams #twisted dreams #here I am writing 1.6K about enemies to lovers instead of working on essays #whoops don't be like me

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alwayspondering · 3 years

Text

Promenade and Photographs

V x MC (Nala) | MysMe RBB

Hi! I had the pleasure of collaborating on this amazing project for @mysme-rbb with Mochi! The art that they created for my fic is spectacular! Check out Mochi’s Instagram HERE! ^^

Jihyun took in a breath of crisp fall air, the smell of fresh flowers misted over by rain enveloping him. Sunflowers. Lilac. Violets. This moment seemed too good to be true. Far too good, too pure, too lovely. Too full of light – of hope.

He couldn’t imagine a more picturesque moment. Walking the path to the nearby park with his beloved, he laced his hand seamlessly with Nala’s. Jihyun purposefully slowed his brisk pace to a leisurely stroll. If there was a way to freeze time, this would have been the perfect moment.

A momentary pause in both of their chaotic lives.

Nala was so grateful for the moment alone with Jihyun. Though they had been dating for quite some time, she wanted to spend each and every second she could with him. Being with him made her feel so comforted - so cherished. He was truly a rock she could lean on even in the worst of times and vice versa.

Nala couldn’t help but smile as she recalled the first time she met Jihyun - though then, she knew him as simply “V.” She had worked with Zen in a few theatre productions, met the RFA a few months later, and found herself falling for the tall, kind-hearted, soft-spoken photographer.

It took quite a while for both to come to terms with their feelings for one another: a slow burn, to say the least. But that’s what made the trust they shared in their relationship so unshakable.

“This is so beautiful, Jihyun.” Nala mused, nuzzling in closer to Jihyun’s side as they continued their walk to the park. “I’m surprised we’ve never visited before.”

The path in front of them was sprouting with all sorts of colors - red, blue, green, yellow.

Everything seemed brighter than normal, like a filter resembling a dream world.

A soft blush colored Jihyun’s cheeks as he squeezed Nala’s hand playfully.

“...I was hoping you’d like it. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been on this path. But aren’t the flowers here gorgeous?” His gaze scanned the nearby flowers, grateful they were still as vibrant as he remembered. With the eye damage he had suffered, he was lucky to have Nala to help him through the treatment process. He wondered what would be different if he hadn’t denied help at first - but he knew there was no room for regret.

Nala smiled to herself, returning the playful squeeze to the strong hang laced with her own.

“They really are. I can definitely see the appeal.” She commented with a soft laugh, recalling some of Jihyun’s past photo exhibits.

Most of Jihyun’s photos were of flowers - Lilies, roses, chrysanthemums. She considered herself immensely lucky to be with someone who has such an eye for beauty.

“...By the way, thank you for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me. It’s my pleasure, love.” Jihyun’s voice rang in the deep, comforting timbre Nala adored. How had she gotten so lucky? She could hardly still believe that Jihyun was hers.

“It is my job, after all. You’re doing me a favor more than anything,” he continued, adjusting the lens of the camera that dangled in its case across his shoulder.

“I just can’t believe I’m making you take pictures for your job... On our date!” Nala joked light-heartedly, feeling giddy at the prospect of what the date would entail.

When it came to taking pictures, Nala oftentimes felt she was the farthest from photogenic. Everytime Jihyun took pictures of her, though, she felt and looked so powerful, feminine, and so entirely herself. He had a wonderful way of bringing out the best qualities of people in his photos.

“Hm... Would you believe me if I said that you are my absolute favorite person to photograph? How could that possibly be a nuisance to me?” Jihyun mused, stroking Nala’s hand with his thumb.

“I believe you.” Nala stood on her tip-toes to plant a gentle kiss on Jihyun’s cheek. The end of the path was nearing.

“Hey... before you start taking the professional ones, could we get one with just the two of us?” Nala considered, happy to see her words were followed by a smile from Jihyun.

“Of course.” Without a second of hesitation, he took his camera out of the case, holding it out to Nala. “I’ll let you do the honors.”

“Perfect!” Nala exclaimed, giddy that they would finally have an updated picture together. Especially with such beautiful scenery in the background.

Taking the camera, Nala extended her arm straight in front of her, angling the camera up so that both her and Jihyun fit in the frame. It was more difficult than she imagined - especially considering how tall Jihyun was in comparison. More than anything, Nala appreciated that Jihyun had trusted her with his camera like this.

She felt Jihyun’s hand rest on the small of her back - a gesture he knew Nala adored. Nala wondered if the blush that so obviously was coloring her cheeks would be seen in the photo. “Okay. On the count of three. One, two, three-”

As the word ‘three’ left Nala’s lips, Jihyun pulled Nala in close to his side - surprising her just enough for her smile to blossom as soon as the camera clicked.

• • •

A few minutes of walking later, the couple found themselves at the atmospheric park.

While he was with Rika, there were so many times Jihyun felt he needed to escape. To find a moment alone with his own thoughts. This was the place he often found solitude - true serenity.

He was grateful to finally be bringing the most important person in his life here - someone who brought him so much hope. This was a place he felt so at home.

“...Hm. There are weeds growing near these clovers. Let me just fix that real quick…” Nala bent down and plucked as many weeds as she could find. He loved how Nala so adorably demonstrated her passion for gardening.

Jihyun kept his fingers laced with Nala’s all the way until they approached the brick wall he designated for the headshot session.

The varied shades of red, browns, and burgundy would make for a perfect background. It would bring out the very subtle red highlights in Nala’s hair - the hints of blonde - her adorable freckles.

Jihyun ran through the monologue in his head he ran through with his clients, wondering how much he should keep the same or alter for his girlfriend.

He was delighted Nala was wearing her light pink cardigan; it emphasized her vibrant blue eyes even more than usual. The cut of the shirt emphasized her collarbones too - god, she is beautiful…

His mind began to wander - he began to visualize a little more than intended.

No. It’s time to be professional.

As Nala stood against the brick wall, it was obvious she was a natural when it came to posing. Zen had taught her well.

“All right, Nala. Can you give me a soft smile?” Jihyun instructed. The smile he adored so much appeared on her rose-tinted lips. Was she wearing the new lipstick he had bought her?

Click. Click.

“Great. Can you place your hands in your back pocket and roll your shoulder back slightly?” This also emphasized Nala’s bust ever so slightly. He tried not to let his mind wander any further than that.

Click. Click.

“Now give me some side eye…” At his words, her expression shone with a new color of sensuality. It was perfect for the camera. “...Good. Keep that!”

Click, click. Click, click.

“Wow. You are just breathtaking...” Jihyun took a moment to look through the pictures. Of course, she was stunning in every single one. He was right about the colors in the brick wall complimenting Nala well.

“...Okay. Hear me out. Look down, think of a secret, and look back up at me.”

“...A secret?” Nala raised an eyebrow at this. “I’m not sure I have many of those.”

“Oh, sure you don’t.” Jihyun teased playfully, adjusting the lens once more. A peal of laughter escaped the brunette’s lips.

Click.

Another beautiful, organic moment captured on camera.

“Okay, fine.” Nala pouted teasingly. Her gaze flickered to the grass beneath her feet. She took a moment to ponder.

And then, her gaze snapped up again. It rendered him speechless.

Click. Click.

Mesmerized, Jihyun took a few slow steps toward Nala. “...Tilt your head, just slightly to the right.” His own head tilted, wondering if just a minuscule angle change would define her jawline more.

“Do you mind if I adjust you, just a little?”

“Of course.” Her voice cooed.

Jihyun’s finger ever-so-delicately tilted Nala’s chin to the right and down towards the front angle.

There was little space between them now. The body he had memorized every inch of was just mere centimeters away.

The tension was palpable.

Without another word, Jihyun kissed Nala, both sinking effortlessly into the euphoria of the moment. Pulling away for just a moment, he waited for a sign from her to continue.

Nala pulled Jihyun in closer, pressing her lips against his. Her hand trailed from the nape of his neck into his teal-colored hair.

There was no denying they were all but pressed up against the brick wall now.

The kiss deepened - their breaths quickened - cheeks inflamed.

The reality of the public setting hit the two quickly. Laughs and explicit whispers were shared under hushed, giddy breath.

“...Would you like to finish this session somewhere a little more private, my love?”

#mystic messenger #mysmerbb #jihyun kim #v mystic messenger #v mysme #photography #fanfic #mysme fanfic #v x mc #fluff fic #romantic fluff

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popcornaddict500 · 3 years

Text

A little trinket shop

-Here we have a little drabble with Volaris, and @bastart13 's lovely apprentice Abosede. <3

1212 words, more under cut.

“Here’s the clay you ordered, Illume.”

“Thanks, just set it down there,” Volaris said, smiling at the delivery boy.

With a huff, the boy set the big pack down and left the shop.

It was silent, save for the soft sound of carving. Volaris sat at his desk, black hair tied in a bun. He was carving a crow out of a small block of wood. Occasionally he muttered something to himself, or brushed at his stubble. His lilac eyes flicked around the room.

A cup of hot coffee was on his desk. The entire surface of it was littered with tools, shavings and leftover pieces of clay. ‘I’ll clean it up,’ Volaris said. But he still hadn’t gotten to it... A single lantern stood on the counter.

There weren’t many customers that day, but he wasn’t bothered. He liked lazing around.

The shop wasn’t very big, but it was full. The shelves were full of figures, mostly animals or creatures, but also trinkets and decorative tiles. Most were made of clay. Not all of them were painted, but some were. Others were made of polished wood. A bunch of them were made of metal, mostly the ones you could hang from your ceiling. There were also some items made with jewels or crystals.

A dragon the height of his desk stood on a pedestal, near a corner. It was fully made of hardened white clay, and there were many details. That took him weeks to complete. He didn’t paint it, because he worried that it’d ruin his hard work. Paint wasn’t always an improvement.

“Hmm.. Where’s the black paint…” Vol dug around in a cabinet on the floor. “Not here…” He accidentally kicked a bucket over, and wood shavings poured out. “Damn-”

The little bell hanging on top of the door rang, and someone walked in. Volaris jumped and knocked his head against the cabinet.

“Hrk-! Oww!” He clutched his head with a groan.

“Oh! Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah. I’m good, don’t worry.” He got to his feet and blinked at the stranger. But he needed to look up. “...H-Hey there.”

He’d never seen this person before. So tall! He swallowed, straightening himself out a bit.

“Welcome to my shop, miss-...?” He tilted his head.

“Abosede.” she smiled. He gave a slight grin in return. “Nice to meet you, I’m Volaris.” He bowed his head and went to sit back at his desk.

He couldn’t help but be embarrassed though. He must’ve looked like an idiot… He shook his head and returned his attention to what he was working on before. Ah, but damn, he still hadn’t found the paint. He got up again to search for it.

“Wooow.. Where did you find these?” The visitor asked, looking at the shelves and gently running her fingers along some of the figures.

“Uh, I made them,” He responded, face buried in a dusty closet.

“You made them?” Abosede looked impressed, although he couldn’t see.

“Well, yes. I’m working on a bunch more as we speak!” He peeked at her with a grin, pulling out a bottle of black paint, along with a small can of iridescent powder.

“What are you making now, then?” She got closer to the desk to take a look.

“A crow… and a black cat.” He held up one of the figures to show her.

“It’s so detailed… Impressive.” She turned one of the pieces over in her hands.

“Heh, thank you.” He fiddled with his carving knife. “What brings you to my humble shop?” He glanced up at her with a smile. Beautiful, he thought. Vol looked away when she caught his gaze. He wasn’t usually this awkward.

“Well, I was told a gifted crafter lived here somewhere. Looks like I found him!” Abosede beamed.

“Aw, I’m not that good..” Volaris tried not to blush. “You flatter me, miss.”

“But look at all your work! You should give yourself more credit.” She patted his shoulder. This time he did blush.

“You’re too nice… but thank you.” He glanced up at her before returning his attention to painting. “...Have you ever made stuff yourself?”

“Oh, all the time! I love crafting!”

“Ah! Then you must know how nice it is! it’s quite calming to me.”

She nodded. “Yes, I can totally understand that.”

“What do you usually make?” He looked up at her with a grin, dusting some blue, iridescent powder on the crow’s wings.

“I weave and embroider a lot. I also carve, like you do… Oh, and beadwork too! But that’s just to name a few.” Abosede made a thoughtful noise and leaned on the desk to look at his work.

“Ohh, I’ve wanted to try weaving for a while… But I don’t get a lot of time,” He hummed. “But gosh, that’s amazing! You must be very talented!” He smiled, setting the finished figure down on the edge of his counter. “I’d love to see sometime. I don’t meet a lot of folks who enjoy crafting too..”

“No?” Abosede turned to look at some more of the figures.

“Nope. Where I’m from, where I used to live, there were hardly any crafters. Most people were just merchants or farmers. My dad made pottery, though.”

“Hmm, I’ve met a bunch of crafters and handworkers in this city though,” Abosede said, peeking on one of the higher shelves.

“Hah, well… I’m not too good at finding things. Or people.” Volaris chuckled.

“Ooh! Is this a crane…?” She picked up one of the figures.

“Could you show it?” He leaned a bit closer, holding out his hand. She gave it to him. “Mrm. Yes, indeed. This is a red-crowned crane.” He gave it back to her with a musical hum.

“Oh, I love it. It’s so detailed!” She ran her fingers along the delicate lines.

“Heh, I’m glad! That piece was actually requested by a patron. But multiple people liked it, so it’s a part of my collection now.”

She stared at him for a moment. “You take requests?”

“Uh, sure? I can make a custom made one for you, if you’d like that.” Volaris tilted his head.

Abosede grinned. “In that case,” she began, reaching into her pocket. “Do you think you could make one of these?”

She showed him a picture of her familiar, a crested crane.

“Ooh! Sure, I haven’t made one of those before… But it shouldn’t be too hard. Is that your familiar?”

“Mhm! Her name is Ife.” She beamed.

“Ah, lovely. Sure, I could do that. Give me about 3 days. Would you like it in clay, or wood? And would you like it painted?” Vol blinked curiously.

“If you could make it out of wood, that’d be great. And you can paint it, if you’d like.”

He nodded, taking a sheet of paper, and writing it down. “Mind if I borrow the picture until it’s done?”

“Sure.”

Vol stretched and pinned the paper on a clasp. “Gotcha,” He chuckled. He looked up at her. “Hey, maybe next time you visit, you could show me some of your works? I bet it’s all beautiful.” He smiled and rested his head on his hand.

“Oh, you’d like to see? I can do that.” Abosede hummed.

“Hm-hm. Then I’ll await your next visit, dear.”

#my writing #volaris #drabble #apprentice abosede #❤❤❤#This was really fun to write uwu

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

The Spider's Bride

Pairing: spider!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: yandere, obsession, stalking, forced marriage, mentions of suicidal thoughts and breeding (but everything is not as dark as it seems).

Words: 3836.

Summary: Whoever your stepmother sold you to, he wasn't as honorable as she claimed.

P.S. Hey guys! Initially it was supposed to be more horror-ish, but then I wrote a lot of sad Bucky, and, ugh, the story became what it is now. Hope you're going to enjoy!

____________

"From now on you have to go alone. We're not allowed to come any further." Your stepmother said and stopped, your stepsisters looking at her with visible discomfort on their faces.

"But we have to ensure her betrothed is waiting for her and pass him her trousseau. This is the tradit-"

"He's not from these lands and cares little for our traditions." She quickly cut one of her daughters off and motioned them to give a few bags they were carrying back to you. "The only thing you have to do is follow the path and you will be alright, girl. Stop being so scared, I'm not sending you to meet your death. Suit yourself, dear Lord! You are going to be married to an honorable man, be grateful I've arranged it for you!"

Funny. If he was truly as honorable as she said, she'd let one of her girls marry him instead. Judging by the place he asked you to come meet him, he was some filthy necromancer or a dark mage in hiding. Regardless of that, he had definitely paid good money for you if your stepmother was willing to let go of the one who was doing most of the housework.

Whatever. Since the death of your father, you hadn't been expecting your miserable life to get any better. She'd force you to marry some revolting man sooner or later, nevertheless.

"Goodbye, sisters." You whispered to them, throwing your rough work-weary hands around their skinny shoulders and kissing their cheeks. "May the Lord be with you."

"May the Lord be with you." They repeated quietly, and you saw their eyes were glistening with tears in the darkness of the cave. They were clinging to you like little kids to their mother, and you smiled. Despite being born to this vulture, your sisters were kind-hearted. They were the only ones to bring you joy in the darkest of days.

"Goodbye, mother."

She turned away from you silently and headed back without acknowledging your words. One of her daughters hissed at her with disdain before she looked back and sent the girl a grim look, pointing to the entrance where the light was piercing through the darkness.

"Move. I don't have all day."

Watching the guilty expression appearing on their faces, you patted both of the girls on the back and silently ushered them to go. They weren't the ones to blame for what had happened to you, and they couldn't do much. No one could.

As all three disappeared from your view, you bit down on your lower lip and gathered your pathetic belongings. You didn't have anything valuable since even the dresses your mother wore were burnt once that woman entered the house of your father. Sometimes you were thinking whether anything would be different if he stayed alive, but you weren't sure of that. Maybe it was better without him, the man who had seen his new wife destroying the one and only portrait of your mother, but doing nothing at all to stop her. Maybe it was better you left the house where you were constantly reminded of how miserable and rotten you were, a girl she hated with all her heart.

Rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand to stop yourself from crying, you moved forward, going deeper into the dungeon or whatever this cold unfriendly place was, the medallion your betrothed given you hanging on your chest. Was it his face you saw inside? It would be surprising if he was as handsome as on the picture. Tired, a bit broken, maybe, and somewhat gloomy, but handsome. Or did your stepmother steal this medallion from someone else, some true soldier she claimed your betrothed to be? Was your fiancee ugly, then? Old? Unhealthy? There was only one way to find out.

The more you walked, the heavier the bags with trousseau became in your hands. At one point you thought to just leave them there, but then you sighed and continued carrying them further. Instead of paying a dowry, your stepmother sold you to your betrothed. He could get mad if you didn't bring him even your trousseau.

It was getting colder, and you stopped for a minute to wrap you woolen shawl around your shoulders, dropping the bags to the ground. Your little journey took you much longer than you expected, and you hoped your fiancee hadn't already been waiting for you. He would be enraged, for sure. Hopefully, you still had a little time.

Bending over to pick up your bags, you suddenly froze on the spot. You heard some odd noises coming from somewhere ahead of you and then raised your head. The burning torches lighting the cave were... shaking?

You jumped to your feet. The noise was becoming louder. You couldn't quite describe it - it felt like indistinct whispers, but very rough, inhuman. The ground trembled beneath your feet as you felt fear rising deep within your chest, leaving you cold. What was that? What was that sound? What creature was whispering... no, tapping... pounding the ground with something...

You left the bags where they were and turned back. It was not the whisper. It was the sound of an enournously huge insect creeping closer to you.

Bats out of hell moved slower than you when you ran towards the exit, barely containing your screams. Was that a giant centipede? A beetle? Something worse than that? You had no desire to figure it out.

You knew this was a bad idea from the start. Your stepmother had never cared for your wellbeing, so it wasn't surprising she truly sent you to your death. Was your fiancee a necromancer who preferred dead women over the living ones? Maybe so.

You fell down to the ground with a loud scream and sobbed, forcing yourself to get up and look at your blooded knee. Pain shot through it once you tried to move, and you bit your tongue. It was even harder to walk now, but you weren't staying there to let whatever creature come and devour your flesh. Gathering yourself, you clenched your teeth and kept running, albeit slower, to the exit of the cave. If you died trying, so be it.

"Please, don't run from me!" Someone said in a desperate voice from behind, yet the only sound you had heard was the one of dozens of steps against the ground. Many metal legs scratched the stone beneath them, making you shudder and cry.

Whatever that creature were, it would be the death of you.

And so you ran and ran until you couldn't feel your legs, but the monster was too close to let you escape. When you fell down the second time on the same knee, undeniably breaking it, you screamed from pain and tried to crawl away still, watching in utter horror how the shadow emerged from the darkness behind you, it's features inhuman, monstrous, revolting. Watching the claws on its eight long legs enveloped in metal glowing in the dark, you yelled at the top of your voice, raising your eyes to the black spider's segmented body.

As you kept looking up, you saw that a horrifying creature wasn't just a gigantic spider. Half of him belonged to a man. Although below the waistline he had that abominable black body, his torso, chest, arms and head were human.

You screamed until your lungs were burning when you saw the face of a man you first had discovered on a little painting inside the medallion. It was your betrothed. Your stepmother had sold you to the arachnid.

Before he advanced further, the light went out, and you were drowning in the dark, finally loosing your consciousness.

____________

There was a distant sound of someone's singing somewhere outside of the house. You could mistake it for Aleana's voice, but hers was lower than this one, melodic, almost magical. This charming singing could put sirens to shame.

You slowly opened your eyes, looking at the high ceiling through the silver threads of the canopy above you. It was odd. Even before your father married for the second time you had never had a canopy bed, especially such a gorgeous one with a cloth looking like it was made by the Queen's best weavers. It almost looked like a silky silver web.

Spiders. Arachnid.

You jumped on the bed, throwing away a warm blanket covering your body, and stared at the large room you woke up in. It seemed as big as half of your house at the very least, the walls coloured in shades of lilac and amethyst, two silver chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. You saw dark-wood furniture lavishly decorated with auspicious motifs, a huge oval mirror... it looked like a room of a princess.

"Are you feeling better?"

You screamed when you heard someone's low voice and clamped your hands over your mouth, quickly moving to the farthest corner of the bed, your back pressed into the cold wall. There was a stranger sitting on the chair near your bed, but for some reason you hadn't seen him before as if he just emerged from the darkness.

You were staring at the face of a man you saw in the cave. Now, however, he looked fully human, his monstrous lower half replaced by long musculed legs. He was dressed in black lether while his left arm glowed in the dark, wrapped in metal, but he couldn't trick you with his charms. You knew his true form.

He was a war veteran, stepmother said, a hero, a soldier. She failed to mention he belonged to arachnid troops, the ones who fought alonside soldiers of your kingdom against Hydra tribes.

Grabbing a pillow and hiding behind it as if it were a shield, you cried, shivering and cursing your stepmother silently. How could she do it to you? How could she give you to an arachnid, this revolting, inhuman creature crawling in the dark? How could she send you here, knowing you were to be wed to this beast and bear his monstrous children? Better death than this. Better ending your life yourself than becoming a whore to this creature, forsaken by the gods.

You didn't know how much time had passed before your tears dried out. The man didn't try to get closer to you. He didn't speak, keeping his head low while you shuddered in the corner.

A bride to the spider. Even thinking of that made you feel like throwing up.

"Are you feeling better?" The man suddenly repeated his question, and you shriveled upon hearing his voice.

You didn't want to talk. Since the time your stepmother had first entered your house, your life was pathetic and worthless. She stripped you of your dowry and all belongings of your mother; she took away your dresses and even ribbons you used to decorate your hair with. You were not the daughter of lady of the house anymore. You were her errands girl, her little servant, the one she had been taking her anger out on. Even when your father was still alive, you knew you wouldn't be allowed to marry a decent man.

You dreamt of running away and living all by yourself in the forest before it was invaded by agressive driads and deadly lamias. After that you quietly accepted that your fate was to suffee in the arms of your offenders. You realized gods didn't want you to be happy, but you couldn't even imagine you would end up being sent to a dungeon right into the arms of this monster who was to breed you. You felt revolt rising deep within you. Even dying was better than this.

"I have healed your knee." The man said, and you blinked, suddenly conscious of your lack of pain. It was true, you had broken it on the run, but now you felt nothing as if you didn't hurt yourself in the first place.

He probably expected some gratitude.

"Thank you." You said in raspy voice, holding the pillow closer to you and hiding your face, your eyes red from tears. You thought it was funny he didn't chain you, but did he need that? With those eight legs of his he could catch anyone without breaking a sweat.

You bit down on your lip and saw he was watching you intently, so you lowered your gaze, looking at your airy silk dress. It softly glowed in the dark like the cloth of the canopy, and you suddenly thought that this revolting creature had undressed you and seen your naked form. Tears started gathering in the corners of your eyes again.

"Please, do not be afraid." The man said tenderly, and you answered him with a sob. His tired expression became worried. "I am sorry for scaring you earlier. I have thought it would be better to show you my true form from the early beginning."

You sniffed and tried covering your shaking feet with the blanket. Why did it have to happen to you? What had you done? Why had he chosen you over other women? You were far from the prettiest ones among your village.

"Why me?" You asked in a little voice, afraid of what you might hear.

The man - the monster in human flesh - smiled at you, his gaze wistful, and you shivered.

"I saw you on the day of the summer solstice. You were dancing barefoot around the fire with your sisters." The man said, and his gloomy face lit up. "You had a flower crown on your head."

Oh, he was there on the day of the festival, then. It was one of the few days when you could break free from the hold your stepmother had over you. Your sisters and you always went to the clearing in the woods and danced till the sunset after giving your prayers to the gods protecting your lands. This year your sister Adana had made you a flower crown to cheer you up.

"You were the most charming woman I have ever seen." His quiet voice made you snap out of your thoughts, and you greeted your teeth. "I've been watching you since then when you were out in the village or doing the house chores in the backyard. I saw... I saw when you didn't let your stepmother kill the spider and put him in the grass instead."

He gulped, and you bit the fabric of the pillow, shutting your eyes for a few seconds. This beast had been secretly watching you for months, and you had no clue about it. Did your stepmother know? Did she let him do it? How much did he pay her to let him follow you around?

"Are we even compatible?" You sniffed again, afraid to look at him. "Humans and..."

"We are compatible if you refer to being able to bear my children."

Your fingers buried into your hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. You bit back a cry knowing it wouldn't make you feel better. Carry little monsters in your womb and give birth to more of those revolting creatures... Were you supposed to lay eggs like spiders did? Would your children grow inside those cocoons? Before you could stop yourself, you were crying loudly and pressing your face into the pillow. When you sensed the man standing up and moving closer, you screamed in horror, pressing yourself further into the walls. He stepped back, an awful, hurt look in his eyes. Before you'd feel guilty, ashamed at yourself, but not now. Not in front of a creature that deserved nothing but death.

He sat back on the chair, watching the shiny wooden floor beneath his feet and allowing you time to calm down again. Why was he quiet? Did he try to persuade you he was civil? That he wouldn't jump at you like spiders did with its prey? The mere comparison made you shudder, and you wiped the tears with the pillow again.

The silence felt heavy, but you had nothing to say while the man was probably afraid to talk to you, knowing you didn't want to hear his voice. Did he know how revolting he was? Did he know you'd never step into the cave if you knew who was waiting for you there? Did he know you wished for nothing but break its disgusting long legs with metal claws on the ends?

You forced yourself to think of something else once you looked at his unbearably sad expression. He must have known a beast like him didn't deserve love. Not a love of a human being, at least. Why did he choose you? Why hadn't he seeked his betrothed among his own kind?

"Why looking for a human?" You asked him, lowering your gaze to your knees. "Why not the one from your own tribe?"

"We don't have many females left." He answered immediately as if he were waiting for you to speak up. "The war with nagas had affected us more than you think."

"But, surely, there are other species willing t-to... mate with you?" No, you didn't truly believe anyone in the whole world would be willing to, except the actual giant spiders of the South.

"There a few like driades of coniferous woods and dark elves living in the caves of Northern Mountains, but their number is decreasing, and they are not as willing to marry our men as before. They are trying to save their own kind."

"Oh, I see. There are too many of us, humans, so we aren't that valuable." You smiled bitterly at his words, and the man's blue eyes widened.

"My apologies, I didn't mean it. I would never say anything like that, apple of my eye."

You cringed at his words: he was still trying to trick you into believing he was some gentleman.

"Please, I know it is hard for you to believe me now, but I swear by my mother's name I'll give you more than any human man can." The creature whispered, his gaze soft and loving. "Whatever you wish for I shall bring to you."

"I don't want any man to give me anything." You sobbed, shaking your head. "I've only ever wanted my mother to come back, nothing else."

There was something that looked like understanding and pity appearing on his face. He could apprehend the loss of the one you loved the most, it seemed.

"Forgive me, but this is the only thing I cannot do for you. We practice necromancy, that's true, yet... you don't want you dear mother to be brought back that way, believe me."

"Than there's nothing you could give me."

You knew you were unreasonable - nothing could bring her back - but you didn't want him to think you were accepting his kind offer. He was a monster, and you didn't deserve to be wed to him.

But then what choice did you have? Surely, you would never leave this place - even if he was kind enough to attempt returning you to your stepmother, that rotten woman would never give him his money back, and he wouldn't let you go otherwise. Despite all your struggle, he would marry you, and you would have to comply.

How soon would you lose your sanity? Would it happen after seeing his true form for the second time? Maybe when he would bed you?

You felt an urge to throw up and clamped your hand against your mouth again.

"Do you have a potion?" You mumbled, forcing yourself to speak.

"A potion?" He repeated and frowned. "What potion do you need, my love?"

"I don't know how you call it... the potion that makes you fall in love with someone. They say it twists your heart and makes you forget whatever you felt before towards the one who gives it to you." Rubbing your tired wet eyes you asked, fixing your gaze on the blanket. You were repulsed by the idea of him even touching you, but if it was unavoidable, maybe being charmed and happy was better than losing your mind completely.

The man sighed, wiping his face with his hand in a black leather glove.

"A potion like this truly exists, and I can make it for you, but it won't help." He said quietly. "The charms don't last long. Of course, they would give us enough time to conceive a child, but is it truly want you want me to do to you?"

Don't say anything, don't say anything, don'tsayanything.

"Then what do you want from me?" More and more tears dropped to the blanket. "Do you expect me to fall in love with you at the first sight? Do you want me to pretend I like being here?"

"No. I don't."

There was a deep desperation to his voice you hadn't heard before, and it made you fall silent despite all the words almost leaping out of your mouth. So, this creature must know how disgusting he was in your eyes. Surely, you weren't the first human female captured by his tribe - they all knew how scary and ugly they looked to the ones of your kind. Why bringing you here, then? Why forcing you marry him? Of utter desperation because there was no one else for him to mate with? Because he liked you?

It wasn't getting any better.

"I know you are still tired. Please rest. No one will enter your chamber unless you ask for anything yourself."

He got up from his seat and slowly went to the other side of the room where those huge wide doors were - they were so big that he could enter in his true form. You hiccuped at the thought. For now he looked perfectly human - you could even call him handsome if you hadn't seen him back then in the cave. If only he was a true man, you'd be the luckiest girl in the world.

You pressed the blanket to your wet face to take away whatever was left on your cheeks and coughed a little. Staying here was frightening, but you were all by yourself, at least. If you got a bit more rest, maybe you'd think of something. Maybe you'd figure it out.

You could still hear the distant sound of singing somewhere outside, and suddenly you found yourself speaking to him again, making him look back at you.

"Who is that?" You asked, staring at his strong beefy figure. "Is it another prisoner?"

A prisoner, that was how you called yourself. You saw creature's gaze falling to your feet as he inhaled deeply and murmured, "No. They are my sisters singing to us." Before you could cry out in horror, asking what magic they casted on you, he continued. "They are sending us their blessings."

When he had disappeared behind the doors, you pulled the blanket over your head, feeling guilty, hurt, and disgusted at both him and yourself.

_______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @navegandoaciegas

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #yandere

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babyflossy · 4 years

Text

exposed | p.js

pairing: jisung x reader

requested: i’m working on loads of request atm but when i saw this i had to write it straight away lmao

summary: when dispatch reveals your secret realtionship with jisung to the public, the fans aren’t the only ones surprised.

warnings/genre: unedited, kinda just self-indulgent fluff, lots of words, not much happens

word count: 1.7k

a hand on your shoulder breaks you from your slumber, words already being spoken at you. in your sleepy haze, they floated straight through your head, mind still groggy from being woken up so suddenly. as soon as you recognise the voice as your manager’s, your eyes snap open, meeting equally wide ones over the head of your manager. haemee, your leader, shoots you an apologetic look, something unsettling for so early in the morning.

“what happened?” the words are quiet and tired and your manager sighs in pity, handing over their phone. your eyes squint in response to the brightness, stomach dropping when your eyes finally focus on the news article.

BREAKING; DISPATCH REVEALS UQS’ Y/N AND NCT’S JISUNG ARE DATING.

the title is accompanied by three photos; one of you at a fansign, smiling at a fan, one of jisung waving at a camera in the airport, and then a blurring photo of two figures walking hand in hand through a park at night. the park you and jisung had visited two weeks ago.

“there’s a meeting at the company. can you get ready quickly, please?” despite the ‘scandal’ and the stress your manager was most likely under, she shoots you a comforting smile and ruffles your hair before leaving, phone already ringing.

as soon as you and haemee are left alone you reach for your phone, feeling the bed dip as she sits beside you. she rests a hand on your shoulder, rubbing her fingers down your back soothingly. your lockscreen in full of text messages. you thumb through them, seeing many from jisung, along with the other nct members you were close with. you ignored them all, only searching for the ones from your boyfriend.

jisungie <3: have you seen it yet?

jisungie <3: call me when you see this

jisungie <3: are you okay?

jisungie <3: i know you didn’t want ppl to find out like this

jisungie <3: let me know you’re okay plzzz x

“it’s gonna be fine, you know?” haemee’s hands abandon your shoulder and take your phone out of your grasp, tipping your chin so she can look at you. there’s still a smile on her face and you’re reminded of why she’s the group’s leader instead of anyone else; always able to keep things calm. “think about all the other idols that have dated. i bet the fans were expecting this, anyway.”

that was probably correct, you knew. ever since you and jisung had starred on a dancing show in america together, your social medias were full of edits of the two of you, compilations of your interactions from the vlogs you had filmed. as jisung wasn’t fluent in english you had translated for him and done the speaking whenever you ordered food, giving the fans loads of things to include in their edits.

the show had been fun and you had kept in close contact with jisung after it ended, eventually deciding to start dating after months of pining over each other. since then, only haemee, taeyong and the company knew, although you expected chenle knew as well due to the teasing you got whenever you met jisung outside of your training hours.

when haemee left you to get ready you took your phone back, unlocking it and calling jisung as you flicked through your wardrobe, trying to find your hoodie. the call connected after the first ring, jisung’s voice echoing over the line and into your bedroom.

“are you okay?” although there was high chance you were about to be scolded for days, the worry in jisung made your heart beat just a little faster, a reluctant smile taking over your face.

“i’m fine. what about you?” spotting the lilac hoodie at the end of your closet, you pulled your sleep shirt, jisung’s shirt, over your head, replacing it with the warm softness of the purple material. you followed it with a pair of jeans, slipping a face mask on after realising there would probably be reporters outside the SM building already.

“yeah, i’m fine now. i freaked out at first, though,” he chuckled, shouts coming through from his end. “jaemin came in screaming about how he was so betrayed i didn’t tell him, i had no idea what he was talking about.”

“what’d you think is gonna happen?”

there was a pause before he spoke and you had time to grab your bag, throwing in your headphones and a spare mask along with a pair of sunglasses incase. “i’m not sure, taeyong said he’s hopeful, though. so it might not be that bad. it’s not like the company’s finding out about it, though, so it might just be press and stuff.”

“yeah, i hope so. i’ll see you in fifteen minutes i guess,” before you left the safety of your bedroom, you reached for the bucket hat hanging from the corner of your chair, pulling it over your face to hide your eyes. you looked ridiculous, like you were planning to rob a bank, but you guessed it was better than the alternative; hundreds of photos released of your sleep-deprived, drooping eyes.

no one else in the dorm is awake and you’re able to slip out the front door before haemee catched you again, taking a deep breath before heading outside to the car waiting. as it’s just you and your manager, you’re able to sit in the front seat, something you would normally be ecstatic about but due to circumstance it feels lonely and cold. not a word is spoken until the car reaches the entrance to the SM building, throngs of people with cameras waiting outside the front door.

“we’ll go in the back entrance.” you manager says with a frown, eyeing the reporters with concern. “god, it’s impossible to get any privacy nowadays.”

after security escorts you through the back door, pushing reporters out the way when they got too close, you can finally breath properly. for the most part you ignored their questions, signing the first song that comes to mind in your head to distract yourself. ironically, it’s chewing gum, and you realise with resentment it’s going to be stuck in your head throughout the meeting.

upstairs, taeyong and jisung sit on the opposite side of a glass table, two seats left open for you and your manager. their manager stands and motions for him and your manager to talk privately outside, leaving you with the two boys. you take off your hat as you sit down, pulling you mask down so you can talk properly. jisung’s tired eyes crinkle with a smile when you do, a smile you return eagerly.

for a moment you see taeyong think over what to say in his head, trying to find the right words for the situation. eventually, he settles on what your own leader had already told you. “i’m sure this will be fine,” and as if he realises how cliche his words are, he adds “in the end.”

“in the end? what’s that supposed to mean?” jisung tears his eyes away from you to look at the older boy.

“well, i mean, it’s gonna be a big deal at the start,” he states matter of factly, eyes switching between the two of you. the voice he uses is just as level and calm as the one haemee uses whenever she’s trying to sort something out, it must be a universal thing. “the press and the fans will go crazy for a bit, let alone everyone you didn’t tell.”

the reminder makes you dread going back home, knowing the rest of your members will blow this way out of proportion. you were the youngest, and they always managed to be overdramatic whenever it came to you ‘growing up’ as they had put it so many times. none of them knew you were dating jisung, and you could already picture the gloomy pouts you would get for the next few weeks.

after your managers returned, a few more staff entered, filling the last few seats and closing the door, successfully locking you in. they talked for what felt like hours, only occasionally asking you or jisung a question. they decided the easiest thing would be to just come out and admit it, allowing you and jisung a moment to disagree. you locked eyes for a moment, having a silent conversation between yourselves. you raised you eyebrows in question, taking the minuscule nod he sent your way to be the go-ahead.

“i don’t see why not,” you answered for the both of you, smiling at your manager who nodded in agreement back at you.

you don’t get a chance to say goodbye to jisung properly before you leave the building, the staff ushering you in opposite directions to get your schedules for the day started. in the car on the way back to the dorms you send him a text promising to facetime when you both have time, mentally preparing yourself for the confrontation from your members.

“you’re dating jisung?” is the first thing you hear when the front door opens, closely followed by “why didn’t you tell us?” which is swiftly followed by “i can’t believe you’re the first one to date anyone, it’s not fair.”

“that’s mean.” you smile back at the oldest, laughing at the disbelieving smiles covering their faces. “why are you guys so surprised? you didn’t think i could do it?”

“whatever, but, why didn’t you tell us?”

“in my defense, the company told us not to tell anyone.”

for the next few days, your group’s twitter was hectic. you trended on twitter for nearly a solid day, photos and edits and memes of you and jisung together filling your timeline. there were the negative comments, obviously, from jealous fans of both fandoms, some even claiming you should both be removed from your respective groups. they were easy to ignore when the positive comments and the text messages from your boyfriend outweighed them astronomically.

jisungie <3: as much as i hate to say it.. taeyong was right x

a/n: if you got this far im acc proud of you lmao i rlly dont like this but it's been a kinda mentally exhausting day for me so im gonna post anyway and edit tomorrow x

#park jisung imagines #park jisung x reader #nct imagines #nct x reader #jisung imagines #jisung x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct idol au #idol!reader #nct #nct dream #park jisung fluff #jisung fluff #nct jisung imagine #jisung #nct fluff #nct dream imagine

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sevlgi · 4 years

Text

replay

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: jihyo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: camp counselor!au, summer camp sweethearts. [18/33]

warnings: none

synopsis: Will your return to summer camp as a counselor be a replay of your only love story?

a/n: you can probably tell i’ve never been to summer camp before

word count: 1.7k

The first time you fell in love, you were 15.

Back then, you had never had a relationship before, and it wasn’t exactly too high on your list of priorities, either. You were at that point of your life where you thought you were never going to fall in love.

And then you met Jihyo.

The only word you could possibly use to describe her is beautiful- you still have a few pictures with her, and if she looks even the slightest bit like she did back then, she must still be stunning. Huge eyes glimmering with light, and the prettiest smile you’d ever seen in your life.

You only had 2 months together, but that was enough to never forget her; that was the first year you actually asked to go back to summer camp. You didn’t have any form of contact with her, so all you could do was hope that Jihyo yearned for you enough to go back to camp too.

Thankfully she did, and you spent another 2 blissful months together, sneaking kisses in your bunk beds and hiding from counselors, catching fireflies together at midnight and teaming up for every activity you could.

She was all of your firsts- first girlfriend, first kiss, first time. And you wanted her to be your last, despite how unrealistic it was.

It was almost the same the next year, but that was the last time it could be; once you turned 18, you knew you couldn’t go back. You asked for her phone number and rewrote it on your arm in Sharpie every night, hoping with all your heart it would become permanent.

But you wrote it down wrong.

You texted her the day you got home, and the person who responded was definitely not the beautiful girl you loved. In a fit, you threw your phone at the wall, then pored over its cracked screen every night, trying to find some way to find Jihyo again.

After nearly 4 years, nothing.

To say the slightest, you’ve moved on from what you brush off as a first love, something that was never meant to last. You’ve had other girlfriends, other boyfriends, in an attempt to fill the void Jihyo left behind.

This year, your parents refuse to let you date around for the entire summer again. This year, you’re going back to the place where it all began.

Back to summer camp.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

Smiling, you bow and shake hands with the pretty woman who greets you; from what you remember of your phone call with her, her name’s Nayeon. “Yeah.”

“Welcome, thanks for coming so early,” Nayeon grins, brushing a lock of brown hair behind her ears. She doesn’t look like a particularly outdoorsy person, but then again, you don’t either. “We don’t have many counselors this year, but you’re going to be overseeing cabin 4 with Jihyo.”

Your blood practically freezes and you stop in your tracks, Nayeon sending you a confused look when you stop walking. “Jihyo?”

“Yeah, Park Jihyo. Do you know her?” she frowns, opening the gate for you. The camp is basically the same as you remember it to be, though the cabins have all been painted gray instead of the beige from 4 years ago. “She’s only started being a counselor this year, you can’t have had her before.”

“No, I...” Your fingers tighten on the suitcase as you wave mindlessly to some of the other counselors you pass. “I don’t think so.”

“Alright. Can you find cabin 4 on your own?” Nayeon asks, tapping on the plastic of her clipboard. “We’re going to start prepping for the kids tomorrow, but we’ll have a bonfire and dinner together tonight. Get to know Jihyo, you’re going to be rooming together for a summer!”

You nod, sighing, “Sure.” Cabin 4 looks the same as all the rest, except for the faded number 4 painted on the door.

Nobody’s inside, surprisingly. Like you remember, there are 6 bunk beds and corresponding cabinets, a doorway leading off to the bathroom and one more leading to the room you’ll share with the other counselor.

That room is much smaller, of course- there are just 2 twin beds and 2 tiny cabinets, one of the beds already made and the cabinet already filled with clothes. Sighing, you set your suitcase down in the narrow space between the beds.

“Y/N?”

Disbelief colors your expression when you turn to find an all-too-familiar face; just like you expected, Jihyo is still absolutely beautiful. She’s lost a little weight and grown up a lot; now, her hair is dyed a pinkish lilac, skin radiant and full lips glossy. “Jihyo. It’s actually you?”

“What the hell,” she breathes out, stepping into the room and examining you as if she still doesn’t believe you’re real. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

No reply is needed as you crash into her, your fingers tangling into the back of her hair as you hug her close, the familiar smell of her perfume making your eyes sting just the littlest bit. After 4 years, she still smells like delicate lilac and jasmine.

She pulls back a bit too quickly than you’d like, stepping away awkwardly and giving you a half-smile. “So. How’ve you been?”

“Ah. I’m... good, I guess. Missed you.” That’s such an understatement, you want to tell her. It’s stupid that you want to cup her face in your hands again, see if she still tastes like waxy vanilla chapstick.

Jihyo smiles, rubbing her arm and shifting onto one foot. “Great. Um, do you have a girlfriend?”

Your mind shuts down at all the possibilities of the meaning behind that question; could it be that she still feels the same? Maybe she has a girlfriend now, or maybe... maybe she feels uncomfortable around you? Her eyes give nothing away, so you blurt, “Yeah. Uh, nothing serious, though.”

“Same,” she answers, nodding her head oh-so-awkwardly. “Uh, I’ll let you get settled. See you at dinner?”

“Sure.” Part of you wants to ask what she’ll do for nearly 4 hours, but you watch her leave hurriedly, wanting to wrap your arms around the lingering scent of her perfume.

The first week is awkward, to say the least, though the arrival of the kids makes it a bit better. They talk a lot and move a lot, enough to keep the both of you occupied until it’s time to sleep.

You’re always stuck minding one kid or another out of the 6, so there’s really no time to talk to Jihyo at all. At mealtimes, you end up sitting with another counselor named Momo, a bubbly Japanese girl who apparently is friends with Jihyo.

Tonight, the other counselor has offered to stay with the kids who don’t want to go to the bonfire while you accompany the 2 that do; you end up just talking with Momo the entire night.

“You like Jihyo, don’t you?”

“What?” You frown as you turn to the other counselor, mouth agape at how much she apparently has picked up.

She smiles, handing a toasted marshmallow to one of her kids. “We can all see it. You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

Tucking your knees into your chest, you shake your head and sigh, “No. I thought she’d feel uncomfortable around me, since we used to be... you know.”

“Why would she?” Momo cocks her head, handing you a s’more despite you not asking for one. “Jihyo doesn’t have a girlfriend either.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” The blonde shrugs. “She kept telling me that she hoped she could find the girl she fell in love with here, so I guess that’s you? She’s been single for years, I think she’s still hung up on you, Y/N.”

You don’t mean to bolt to your feet so fast, but Momo doesn’t look surprised. “Watch the kids for me.”

The wind whips at your face when you sprint, almost tripping over the stairs leading up to the cabin. The 4 kids inside look up, surprised, when you yank the door open, Jihyo’s eyes the widest when you grab her wrist and lead her to your shared room. “Y/N, what’s-”

“Please tell me if this is a mistake.” Your fingers still curling around her hand, you step closer, eyes searching for a sign to stop. Closer, closer, closer-

Jihyo is the one who finally closes the gap, stumbling forward until her lips meet yours. It’s awkward, of course- you haven’t even seen each other in years, never mind kissed like this. But you get the hang of it quick enough, pushing back with just enough pressure.

Her cheeks are red enough to make her look drunk when she comes up for air, lips the tiniest bit swollen. “I thought... you had a girlfriend?”

You shake your head, panting slightly for air. “I don’t. I thought you were uncomfortable around me, so I said... I told you I was over you. I’m not, Jihyo, I still have feelings for you.”

“Okay.” She pauses, tongue darting out to lick at her lips again. “So... what do you want me to do about it?”

The smart thing to do would be to talk, but you’ve never exactly been rational when it comes to Jihyo. “Kiss me,” you smile, pushing the door to your room shut. “And try to keep quiet.”

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callboxkat · 3 years

Text

Those Long, Lonely Nights (part 1/6)

Author’s note: This is a retelling of the story These Deep Dark Woods, but from Roman’s perspective, plus a few new scenes. I recommend reading that story first, but this can also stand alone. Please read the warnings!

Summary: Roman, a knight, insists on accompanying his best friend Logan, a potion maker, when he decides to head into the notoriously dangerous woods bordering their home to find some rare herbs and minerals for his apothecary. They find much more than they bargained for when they encounter Remus, a bloodthirsty giant. Logince. Angst with a happy ending.

Warnings: food mention, blood, injuries, death mention, killing mention, gun mention, mild body horror (it’s Remus), disturbing imagery (it’s Remus), character death, temporary/believed character death, kidnapping, guilt, attempted self sacrifice, talk of giants, vampires and other monsters. Very unsympathetic villain Remus.

Word Count: 1764

Part 2

Ao3 Link

Writing Masterpost!

...

Roman bounded down the bustling street, waving to familiar passerby as he went. He knew he was easy to pick out and very recognizable, in his white knight’s uniform. Despite the early morning, many people were already up and about, setting up for the day, but the street lamps still glowed—a recent installation, they actually ran on electricity! Roman still didn’t quite understand how that worked, but he was proud to see his settlement prospering, and it was fascinating, how much light came from them, just from a few little wires and some glass. Perhaps there was some sort of enchantment involved.

“Good morning, Sir Roman,” a shopkeeper called.

Roman tabled his nerdy thoughts for the time being. He put on a bright smile and approached the shop, where a woman stood sweeping clear the welcome mat. “Good morning to you, Maryanne!”

The woman put aside the broom and dusted her hands off on her apron. “Would you like a pastry? The peaches just arrived from Mellow Valley, and they are simply delightful in a fruit tart.”

Roman hummed consideringly. “Oh, that’s very tempting, but I’m afraid I’m in a rush this morning!”

“Some other time, then. Perhaps you could even bring that handsome young man you’re always with.” She winked.

Roman really hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Of course—you know I love your treats.”

Roman was on his way to his shift guarding the outer wall, an imposing structure built of shining gray stone that protected the citizens of his home from the monsters that roamed the forest beyond. It was an important job, entrusted to the expertise of the knights, and one that Roman loved doing; but it wasn’t always the most exciting prospect. Their settlement, Old Haven, was one of the longest standing, enough so that most of the monsters had known since generations past to stay well away; and between the few times that things truly got exciting... they could be terribly dull.

But, before Roman went to his shift that morning, he had a stop to make, and this he was definitely looking forward to.

The apothecary was located just a couple of blocks from the main square, in a small, warmly colored cedar and stone building with windows filled with neatly arranged bundles of colorful herbs and evenly spaced rows of bottles of medicinal powders and potions. A hand-painted sign read, Please come in, in neat, white letters, in an only slightly decorative script.

Roman reached the shop just as the door opened, the bell overhead chiming. A customer stepped out, dressed in a dark robe with the hood up. At first glance, he seemed to be clothed entirely in black, but on closer inspection, his robe was actually a deep plum color. He clutched a bottle of pomegranate juice in one pale hand and a neatly sealed packet of herbs in the other. Dark bangs poked out from under the hood, but his face was cast in shadow. Roman frowned slightly noticing the dark, grayish veins in his hands as he stepped back to give the man room. He hurried past Roman and disappeared down the street. Roman stepped inside the apothecary once he was gone.

The apothecarist, Logan, stood behind a counter within the shop, wearing an elegant, navy colored coat and his usual pair of spectacles. He was pushing together a pile of coins on the counter. Copper and bronze coins only, Roman noticed. No silver.

“Got a lot of vampire clientele?” Roman asked, leaning (or perhaps posing) against one of the display cabinets.

Logan looked up, the warm lamplight making his deep blue irises glitter in a way that never failed to make Roman’s heart skip a beat. He glanced back down and finished tucking away the money. “Six,” he said honestly. “Seven, most likely, although she has not personally shared that information with me, and if she is, hers appears to be a mild case.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t approve?”

“Ah… they’re a little too similar to monsters, for my taste.”

“It is a monster-derived affliction, that is true, but with modern treatments, most of those afflicted with vampirism can lead nearly normal lives.”

Roman shrugged dismissingly, waving him off. He hadn’t come here to talk about vampires. “I know, I know. Anyway. How’s my favorite nerd this morning?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Logan sighed.

“You know you love it.”

Logan did not deny it, Roman noticed with a small smile. Instead, he adjusted a few already perfectly positioned potion bottles on the counter, before saying, “I am well, although rather busy.”

Roman glanced around the room, noticeably empty of customers. “Ah yes, this is a very busy time for your shop, I see.”

“A customer did depart only moments ago,” Logan pointed out. “Although, no, I was not referring to customers. I’m preparing for an outing.”

“An outing?” Roman was interested, now. “Finally taking a little vacation, are you? Good on you. Where are you going? And more importantly—can I come?”

Logan wanted to smile, Roman could tell. But he didn’t. The guy took himself too seriously. “Not that type of outing. I require materials to restock my shop.”

Roman sighed dramatically, making it a full body motion. So much for a vacation. And the hot springs in the hills of northern Old Haven were so nice this time of year. “So? Just put it on the list for the traders. Mellow Valley should have most of your things in season by now. Did you hear the peaches arrived? Maryanne, that baker on Lilac, promised me some of her delightful pastries. We could go get some, when I’m finished with my shift on the South Wall this morning.”

Logan shook his head “Mellow Valley won’t have everything I need; and besides, the costs are considerably lessened when the materials are personally collected.”

Roman furrowed his brow. “Collected where?”

“Outside.”

“You mean outside, like, as in the park, right?”

“In the woods,” Logan sighed, beginning to sound exasperated.

Roman opened his mouth, then closed it again. The woods. The veritable ocean of dense trees beyond the settlement’s walls, filled to the brim with monsters, held back from advancing only by the strength of the guard and broken only by the occasional human stronghold and the heavily protected trails that linked them. Generally, only knights and the traders they accompanied ever ventured beyond the walls—this was, in fact, why Roman had become a knight in the first place, to get to see some of the world that most only saw through pictures and stories. Citizens were allowed to leave—they weren’t prisoners—but it was very rare, and highly discouraged. Many who went unprepared—or even those who did—never returned; and sometimes even those who did return were not the same as when they left—like the vampires who apparently frequented this shop, or at least one or more of their ancestors. Vampirism could be tricky like that. Sometimes it cropped up randomly, somewhere down the line.

Logan had begun sorting through some of his supplies, acting for all the world as if he hadn’t just announced he had a death wish.

Roman shook off his distracted thoughts of vampirism and knightly missions, and focused on the most important thing: “Please tell me you aren’t planning to go out there alone.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Logan sighed. “I will have my dagger, and I will go no further into the woods than required.”

“Oookay, first of all, why am I just now hearing that you’ve been hanging out in the monster-filled woods by yourself?”

“I would hardly call it ‘hanging out’.”

“And second of all, you are absolutely not doing that.”

Logan gave him a dry look. “Yes, I am. My herbs will not pick themselves.”

“Get a garden like a normal person.”

“You know I have a quite extensive garden.” Logan paused, looked confused. He shook his head, going back to counting bundles of tiny black seeds. “Some of these herbs do not naturally grow within human settlements, let alone ours, and my attempts to recreate their preferred environment have in many cases proven thus far unsuccessful. Besides, I cannot ‘get a garden’ to form mineral deposits, several of which are required in even non-specialty potions.”

Roman still didn’t quite see why Logan wouldn’t be able to get all of this stuff using a trader. Knowing Logan, it was less about the money and more about needing to personally ensure that he received the correct materials. Surely, though, even the least-versed in medicinal resources could get him what he needed, if he described them well enough.

Also knowing Logan, though, he would not be dissuaded from going.

Roman pulled himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest and putting one hand on the protective-charm engraved hilt of his sword. “Alright, then, I am coming with you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’re coming to collect herbs? Can you even tell wormwood from hemlock?”

“I’m not going to find your nerd plants, I’m going to protect you.”

Logan scoffed quietly, clearly believing Roman’s very generous and heroic offer was unnecessary. But he sat down on his stool, finally, and looked at Roman without busying himself with his apothecarist duties. He glanced Roman up and down, apparently trying to decide how serious Roman was. “Alright, then, if you insist.”

“I do!” Roman nodded firmly. He relaxed his posture. “So, when are we going?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes?”

“I—” Roman groaned, looking up towards the wooden beams of the ceiling. “Fine. It’s a little short notice, but fine.” He worked his jaw, then mumbled, “I’ll need to cancel a couple days… maybe Sir Leo can cover? Hm.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, adjusting his spectacles and watching Roman’s dramatics. “I am not forcing you to come.”

You are, though. “Well, I am.”

“Alright.”

A beat passed in silence, Roman feeling triumphant, before Logan gave the knight a slightly amused look. “I thought you had a shift on the wall?”

“I—right. Yes.” Roman had gotten a little distracted. He took a couple of steps back. “So, you, me, tomorrow, woods. Great.” He turned towards the door, stopped, and turned around. “About those pastries?”

Logan hummed. “I can take a break two hours after noon, which is when your shift ends, if I remember correctly. I suppose I would accept one then.”

“They have fruit in them,” Roman encouraged. “That makes them healthy!”

“I do not believe that is entirely correct.”

Roman grinned and left the shop.

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blackcleo7 · 3 years

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#VINLAND_FANART.PROJECT – Прощание/Farewell

! To understand this script, it is necessary to listen to: ГРАЙ - Прощание/Farewell (Official video) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZB7z6MYzVUc (no commercial or profit use is intended, just its emotional content) The script is written in bold font – the song lyrics in italic format are translated from Russian.

0:00 - 0:17 Thorfinn (at 28) walks on the black beach in southern Iceland next to his home [camera with a very long shot flying from behind his back and approaching him, till crossing him.] + Title Прощание

He looks towards the harbor where his longship is, watching the neglected sails and he stares at the sun in front of him with a wide shot on the sea behind the ship [his eyes are lightened up by the sunlight - framed from the bottom side left-].

0:17 - 1:09 Hot flares will paint the grass red, (The sun is setting on the beach; Thorfinn looks at the infinite land/mountains behind him *camera rotates 180° along with his back*, various colors paint the black mountains - marked in red -)

Southern winds will feed the fire so fast, (Warm winds sweep the grass on the coast and he looks towards south up to Denmark from where colorful stormy clouds are coming in - painted in pink, yellow, lilac and orange -)

The funeral birds float silently, (He looks at a geirfugl -bird- on the shore and it turns into a crow flying above the house where Askeladd was killed)

My hand is clenching a handful of the past. (He finds himself as at 18 on top of Askeladd while he is dying and tugs at him desperately)

The sunset will leave lasting scars on the heart, (As he gets taken away by the two soldiers out of the house, the sun is setting down)

A moan will scare the magpies off the branches, (Thorfinn screams in pain and magpies – mythological Nordic birds – fly away from the branches and the roofs as gets dragged.)

And the thunderous rook-clouds* (He returns back to the current reality and sees the rain approaching along with the drakkar-shaped clouds - they are red and blue -)

Will scatter your ashes in a lisping rain. (a sudden thunderstorm strikes and he gets wet in the colorful rain as if it were a rainbow)

1:10 - 1:25 He 'opens up to the wonder of the world' with open arms and his face upwards trying to capture the rain on his skin. The wind is blowing through his hair and he slightly smiles enjoying it as a liberating act.

He sees the longships coming closer to the shore as in a dream and he seems to see *closely * his group of mercenaries with Bjorn, Torgrim, Atli, etc. on board.

1:25 - 1:43 Askeladd’s ghost glimpses on his right – he is setting out and reaches the shore with the wolves; Thorfinn raises his hand trying to call him back.

He turns to him while standing directly on the shore and looks at him first with a father-like expression and then smiles at him, after that he walks off.

1:43 - 2:00 Going with packs of wolves into the distance (Thorfinn sees Askeladd following the wolves going towards the twilight onto the sea)

Do not repent, my thoughts are with you. (Thorfinn sees with vivid eyes the memories of Askeladd’s "kindness" as a young boy when he was with him - then closes his eyes as an adult in a sad way)

Through the veil of silence and rain (He abandons himself under the silent rain and sinks on his knees while shedding some tears)

Your very long journey is foretold by destiny. (Thors appears and puts his hand on Thorfinn’s shoulder being now a child looking towards the harbour from behind)

2:00 - 2:16 Thors kneels and shakes Thorfinn’s head *shot from behind*

Thorfinn looks at him *from the front* as a teenager, Thors wipes a tear from his eyes *close-up*

2:16 - 2:50 Time has frozen, there is nothing inside. (Thorfinn - 20 y.o. - is walking at midnight towards the slave group who is celebrating around the fire; he has an empty look)

The gusli will cool down the farewell pain. (There is sitting Einar in a circle with other slaves singing and playing the gusli and Thorfinn loses himself while staring at the flames and his thoughts get scattered)

Walking through midnight don't look back, (He falls asleep in his nightmares and sees himself at the top of the people he killed hanging off of him)

The eyes will soak up the salt of oblivion. (He tries to climb up to the exit as he remembers suddenly the scenes from the past when he killed them) 2:51 - 3:08 The sunset will leave lasting scars on the heart, (The sky clears up and Thorfinn stands up a bit sorrowful, Karli smiling - he is 8 - comes from behind and bumps into his legs)

A moan will scare the magpies off the branches, (After him follows Gudrid with the little 4-year-old Snorri holding her hand; she smiles at Thorfinn)

And the thunderous rook-clouds* (Thorfinn starts to head back home after them but stops and turns around again)

Will scatter your ashes in a lisping rain. (While looking to the East he sees the longships disappearing into the darkness, Askeladd and Thors are on board along with all the dead spirits – they are departing far away)

3:08 - 3:40 The rain and the rainy clouds go away with them like dusk - they are blue like fog with many stars, as if they were a bit fairy)

Thorfinn looks at them with positive melancholy, lingering at the ships *towards the camera* with the wind still blowing on his hair - then smiles; the camera films him then from afar as he enters the house.

Trivia / script information:

Concerning the location where Thorfinn (at 28) is, I didn’t choose Reynistaður or Glaumbær in Skagafjörður in Northern Iceland as it happened in reality; like in the manga he is in Southern Iceland around Hof area, on the coast, as he walks on the black beach [more or less the coordinates are: 63.798955, -16.642144].

I wanted to give credit to the first season, strengthening Askeladd’s value to Thorfinn and letting space for his dad too.

I developed the script as if I already knew how the whole story ends before its actual end (Yukimura’s), by taking inspiration from Thorfinn Karlsefni’s actual historical life after returning from Vinland.

Thorfinn in this script revisits his life journey from his youth till his return from Vinland; this journey is also meant to be a ‘spiritual’ one.

Iceland is the point of departure as well as the final end point for Thorfinn.

Since the script is set to be after returning from Vinland, here appears Snorri Thorfinnsson too. Snorri is intended to be the son Gudrid and Thorfinn will have in Vinland, while his brother Thorbjorn (who according to history should have been born much later) in the manga is meant to be (?) Karli. Karli is older than Snorri in this case.

I previously thought about Karli being 6 years old here, the same age Thorfinn had as he left Iceland, but when they arrived to Vinland, he was 4, so he must be around 7 or 8 here.

The geirfugl is an ancient bird, extinct nowadays in Iceland (XIX sec.). I could have chosen (Icelandic) crows as the lyrics state, but as reading through the typical Icelandic birds I felt like picturing an ancient bird for a medieval story was fitting more.

*ладьи-облака – rook/longship clouds: since I was not sure about what was meant, I found “crows”, “towers” and “longships” as a translation. I decided then to profit from this imagery in a mixed way.

*The song I chose for this script is from a Russian folk band. I would usually use another song from current neopagan folk bands from Scandinavian countries (there are actually many famous bands out there, I can’t alas type their names here) but this one had really a beautiful melody and the right lyrics and ‘picture thoughts’ flew in my mind perfectly. The script is written by me (Marica Regina).

#VINLAND_FANART #VINLAND_FANART.Project #vinland saga #Прощание/Farewell #ГРАЙ #verkefni #Thorfinn #makoto yukimura #ヴィンランド・サガ

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

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only the black rose (chapter 5)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: talks of parental abandonment, off-scene injury, drug use (legal!), fluff, and me waxing poetic about one of my favourite books. and more fluff.

words: 3.1k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: this one wrote itself. i expected to take longer with it cause of this. this is the start of the Chaos seen in the 1975 North American tour, so hold onto your hats and enjoy! congrats! you’ve unlocked layla’s tragic backstory! unbeta’d as always, and here’s the link to the playlist :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

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Soon enough, the band make their way home, basking in the golden glow of a couple of excellent shows. It’s only a matter of days until the start of the North American tour, and the excitement is palpable. The boys find themselves at the studio, running through some last-minute tour details, accompanied by a certain brunette firecracker, who sits reading comfortably in the lobby.

Layla, sitting on a luxurious couch just outside of the meeting room, is drowning in a hardcover book, consuming every word at a ravenous pace. The sound of pages flipping periodically is accompanied by the light din of voices detailing the upcoming tour. Lost in the story in front of her, she is surprised when she hears a person clearing their throat, seemingly right in front of her. Looking up, she spots the secretary of Swan Song Records, a woman with glasses and long brown hair ran through with gray, pinned up in a low bun. Light freckles dusted her cheeks. Judging by the crow’s feet at the corners of her hazel eyes, the secretary had to have been older than Layla, perhaps around 50, though her bright smile gave the impression of youth.

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss… I just couldn’t help but notice the book you were reading. I don’t see many fans of the classics around here, especially ones so young.”

Recovering from the shock of being ripped out of the hypnotising story she was wrapped up in, Layla gestures to the seat next to her. With a bright smile, the secretary smoothes down her pencil skirt, and sits down.

“My mother was a literature buff, and it seems she’s passed that down to me! My name’s Layla. You’re Evelyn, right?”

“Y-Yes, I am! How do you…”

“Well, I had to put a name to the lovely secretary that gives me a smile whenever I see her. Makes my day, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re too sweet, darling,” Evelyn says, lips turning up warmly, eyes dancing with joy. “If I may, what are your thoughts on the book? It’s a personal favourite of mine, and it’s always nice to hear new opinions.”

“Well,” Layla starts, lighting up as she speaks. “Wilde’s language paints such a beautiful, vivid picture, and the characters are so interesting, even if they aren’t morally likeable, most of the time. They make mistakes… Many mistakes… but we sympathize with them.”

At this, Layla cups her hand around her mouth, whispering to Evelyn mischievously, as if what she was about to say was the world’s most important secret.

“It’s a favourite of mine too.”

The two women laugh, Evelyn’s hand falling across Layla’s arm, a comforting, grounding weight. Evelyn, with a warm smile gracing her face, crow’s feet as prominent as ever, sends a pang of longing into Layla’s heart. Not for love, but for her old life. Her friends worried out of their minds over her disappearance; her mother, left alone not once, but twice. Her father had left when she was a child, and it had been her and her mother ever since. Layla learned to put up walls, so that she’d never be hurt like that again. They all leave in the end. It’s better that way. Better not to get attached. Better not to get hurt.

“That’s a lovely interpretation, Layla. You know,” Evelyn says, interrupting Layla’s train of thought. “For someone so young, you have an old soul. Wise beyond your years, for sure.”

“You have no idea…”

“Well, I must get to work, darling,” Evelyn claps her hands together, and stands up, resting a hand on Layla’s arm once more. “I’d love to chat again, though. Such refreshing opinions from such a young woman. I’ll let you get back to your book.”

“I would love to! We’ll make plans soon, I promise. Have a wonderful day, Evelyn!” With that, Layla opens the novel, and is taken once again by the current of the story. Minutes pass, until Layla is interrupted once more, this time by a soft press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Everything alright, Layla?”

“Of course, Jim,” Layla says, reaching out to grasp Jimmy’s hand in return. “How did the meeting go?”

“Well, you were right outside the door, I’m surprised you didn’t eavesdrop,” He takes a seat beside her, and reaches down to tap at the book still nestled in Layla’s hand, her finger keeping the page. “You were too engrossed in this, I bet. What are you reading anyways?”

Layla lifts the book to show the cover, which is a slightly worn navy blue, with golden accents in the form of small droplets. In metallic lettering, read ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’.

“Oscar Wilde, hey? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a lover of the classics.”

“I spent my teenage years with Austen and Dickens, after all.”

“I didn’t think you were that old.”

Layla rolls her eyes, a fond look upon her features. Smiling at the man in front of her, she puts a hand to his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m a real cradle-robber.”

“Just make sure my mum doesn’t hear about this relationship: she’ll have a fit.”

“I’ll be careful, angel,” Layla laughs, putting a pensive finger to her chin. “Hey, Jimmy? Do you have a good relationship with your parents?” Jimmy smiles wide at the question and nods, dark curls bobbing at the movement. He absentmindedly takes Layla’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb in soft circles across her wrist.

“My parents… They’ve always been very supportive of me in every way, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to thank them,” Jimmy squeezes her hand briefly, meeting her eyes. “You know, I bet they’d love you.”

“Do you really think so?” Layla’s cheeks grow warm, and her lips tilt upwards in a smile that is uncharacteristically shy.

“Of course I do, petal,” Jimmy says, pushing a fallen lock of hair behind Layla’s ear, his touch featherlight. “How about you? What are your parents like?”

“Well… My dad… He left us when I was young, so it’s been me and my mom ever since,” This is marked with a moment of silence, and Layla’s eyes meet her shoes, pointedly not looking at Jimmy. “My mom’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I truly can’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me. She’s my best friend.”

The silence continues, until Layla feels a calloused finger at her jaw, lifting her chin. Finally flicking her eyes up to gaze at the guitarist, she’s shocked by the concern and sadness she sees in those emerald green eyes.

“Petal, I…”

“Jim, it’s fine. It—”

“It’s not fine, Layla. It’s not. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that. Either of you.” Jimmy pulls her into a tight hug, long arms wrapping around her, making her feel safe. They stay like this for what feels like hours, breaking apart slowly.

“Jimmy, I… Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, how about you read me some of that book of yours?”

Layla laughs brightly, albeit a little watery, and smiles at Jimmy, eyes shining with gratitude. Shuffling, she positions herself in his lap, legs hanging off the end of the couch as his arm comes to rest across her back, holding her steady against his chest. She opens the book, dog-earing the corner of the page she was reading, before flipping back to the start.

“Petal, as much as I like this, I thought we were gonna take it slow? I don’t think public places are the best idea to… Well…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy,” Layla says, smirk gracing her face as she speaks. “You just make a very comfortable chair.”

Jimmy’s laugh is music to her ears, and she presses a light kiss to his cheek. Focusing on the book in her hand, she begins to read:

“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.”

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‘Was it all true? Had the portrait really changed? Or had it been simply his own imagination that had made him see a look of evil where there had been a look of joy?’

The next day had arrived, and Layla sits at her kitchen table, enraptured once again by the writings of Oscar Wilde. The words on the page enchant her, and she has no desire to put the novel down anytime soon. She’d have to tell Evelyn all about it, the next time she sees her.

‘Surely a painted canvas could not alter? The thing was absurd. It would serve as a tale to tell Basil some day. It would make him smile. And, yet, how vivid was his recollection—’

A shrill ringing pulls her out of the carefully crafted narrative of Dorian Gray. Layla huffs, annoyed at the intrusion, and moves to pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Layla! Hi, good to hear from you, hope you’re having a great day so far! Lovely weather we’re having, hey?” The slightly nasal voice of one Robert Plant, crackles through the phone, and Layla sighs at his exuberance.

“Robert, hey. What is it?”

“Uh… Please don’t freak out. It’s really not that bad, and everyone is… mostly… fine?”

“Rob—”

This is followed by a noise in the background, a sort of crackle, as if Robert had shifted the phone to his other hand. Layla can hear the way his breath picks up, the way panic seeps into his voice. “Just a heads up that we’ll be at your place in about… 10 minutes! See you then!”

“What is going on? I was reading, I’m really not in the mood for—”

Another crackle, and a sigh from Robert’s end of the line. Layla runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip in an attempt to quell the panic rising in her throat.

“Promise me you won’t freak out, little dove.”

Layla exhales sharply through her nose, unimpressed at the plea of the man on the other line. Coiling the telephone cord around her finger to calm her nerves, she responds.

“Fine, I’m not gonna freak out. Now, tell me what happened.”

“Well… Um… Jimmy, well, he kinda… got his… finger slammed in a train door?”

“...”

“Layla? Are you still there?”

“How?!”

“I told you not to freak out…”

“Robert!” Layla exclaims, concern painted clearly on her flushed face.

“Okay, okay, he told us he was holding the door open for someone on the way to Swan Song, and well… You know the rest.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Another sigh sounds from the other line, and Layla waits in anticipation for his response, growing anxious with each passing moment. Finally, she hears the man’s response, and deflates with relief, sinking into the chair beside her.

“He should be fine. Like I said before, we’re gonna come get you right away. He’ll be okay, Layla.”

“Okay…Robert?”

“Yes, little dove?

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Robert chuckles lightly, bringing a smile to Layla’s face, the undercurrent of anxiety still coursing through her. She thinks it will stay that way, until she sees Jimmy, makes sure he’s okay. “We’ll be there in 10 minutes. Sit tight, Layla.”

Layla sits at the kitchen table, biting her thumbnail, mind elsewhere, until she hears the telltale sound of a car pulling up, engine cutting out. Flying out the door, She spots Jonesy in the driver’s seat, Bonzo next to him, with Robert in the back. Opening the door, she sits next to the blond, and he gazes over at her, putting a hand to her shoulder. Sympathy flashes across his face as he takes in the shocked look Layla’s sporting.

“He’ll be okay, Layla. He will.”

“Robert, I… Jonesy, please, just drive?”

“Right.”

The engine rumbles to life, and they’re off, no doubt speeding to whatever hospital Jimmy’s holed up in. Layla lets her thoughts drift to Jimmy. She wonders how he’s doing, if he’s in any pain, if they’re treating him well. She’s distracted enough that she barely feels Robert’s hand, warm and comforting, on her knee. Layla is snapped out of her thoughts by a particularly sharp turn, and she looks up at Robert, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Rob… What if he’s… not okay? It was his finger. That means that he might not be able to play, if it’s bad enough,” She stammers, eyes frantic in their search of the blond’s face. “His guitar is his life, and—”

“Layla, calm down. It’ll be okay. It won’t do us any good to think like that.” Robert leans over, throwing his arm around her shoulder as best he could in the cramped car. To his surprise, she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Layla unconsciously brings a hand up to bite her thumbnail, and catching the action, Robert places his hand on hers, pushing it back down to rest in her lap. They stay that way until the car rolls to a stop in the hospital parking lot. Layla lifts her head from Robert’s shoulder with breakneck speed, scrambling out of the car.

“Layla, wait!” Jonesy calls out, running after the woman, who dashes through the door. Robert and Bonzo catch up, just as Layla reaches the front desk, panting from exertion. The nurse on shift looks at her, eyes wide, shocked at the display.

“Excuse me, love,” Bonzo says, tucking Layla under his arm as he speaks to the nurse. “We’re looking for James Page? He was brought in for a fractured finger, I believe?”

“...Yes, right. What is your relationship with the patient?”

“We’re his bandmates, we can call our manager if you need proof. Please, we just need to see if he’s okay.”

The nurse eyes the group dubiously, and grabs the chart sitting next to her, looking through it. Glancing at the group again, she points behind them, to a room packed with seats, posters and pamphlets lining the walls.

“It seems that Mr. Page is still with the doctor getting X-rayed, so I’m going to need you to take a seat in the waiting area. Give that manager of yours a call, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“Thank you, love.” Bonzo says, as he herds the group over to the soft, patterned armchairs, plopping down with a sigh. Jonesy excuses himself to make a phone call to Peter, the others left waiting for news that won’t come fast enough.

Jimmy has to be okay. He has to.

----------

“For James Page?” The nurse’s voice rings out across the waiting area, and the group shoot up from their seats, stiff backs groaning in protest. “Follow me.”

The nurse leads them through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping finally at a room with a large 164 pasted on the closed door. Through the window looking into the room, Layla spots Jimmy asleep under the covers, his hands atop the sheets, resting on his stomach. He looks peaceful, she thinks, like he’s devoid of pain. If she couldn’t see the injured hand at all, she’d have thought he was perfectly fine.

The group finally walk into the room, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning their nostrils. Hearing the click of the door opening, Jimmy opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. His irises are almost black, and he sends them a dopey smile, a giggle bursting out.

“Hey, guys. Fancy seeing you all here.” Jimmy slurs, laughing harder now, as though he had told the most hilarious joke in the world. The boys join in, amused by the antics of their guitarist. Layla hangs back, staring at Jimmy, concern clear on her face. She had spotted the injured finger on the way in, which was already bruised a deep purple, the fingernail completely blackened.

“They give you the good stuff, Pagey?”

“You know it, Jonesy.” Jimmy shoots the bassist a sloppy wink, and the group erupts into soft laughter once more. Taking a dazed glance around the room, the raven-haired man pouts, completely endearing in his drugged state. “Hey… where’s Layla?”

Peter, who had been standing next to the bed, moves aside, and glassy green met warm brown. The guitarist smiles softly, relaxing back into the pillows. He sticks out his uninjured hand, and she walks closer to take it. Never lessening her grip, Layla threads the fingers of her free hand through Jimmy’s messy curls, and looks down at him fondly.

“How’re you doing, champ?”

“Good, now that you’re here. I would kiss you right now… if I wasn’t seeing two of you.”

“They must have him on the really good stuff…” Layla throws over her shoulder, looking back at the injured guitarist. He’s looking up at her with unabashed affection, and she can’t help but blush at the adoration in his gaze.

“Sorry to interrupt,” comes from the open doorway, as Jimmy’s doctor steps through. “I’m Dr. Vane, I treated James when he came in. If you’d kindly step out for a moment, I’d like to go over his prognosis.”

The boys file out of the room, and Layla goes to follow, stopped in her tracks by Jimmy tugging her back towards him with a whimper. She gives in, sinking back down in the chair at his bedside.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Jimmy. I was so scared when Robert called. I thought...”

“I’m glad you’re here, petal. Now, come into bed with me. I want to see you better.” Jimmy mutters, scooting over to make room for her to fit in the small hospital bed. Layla laughs, nodding, and crawls in beside him, careful not to hurt him. She turns on her side, her hand landing in his hair again. Jimmy looks up at her, pupils still dilated, and presses a quick peck on her lips, giggling anew.

“You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful? ‘Cause you are.” He insists, slurred speech returning in full force, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Go to sleep, Jimmy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums softy in response and a few seconds later, Jimmy’s breathing evens out. He’s dead to the world. Through the door left ajar, Layla can hear snippets of the conversation with the doctor.

“... Fractured the tip of his finger… At least a month.”

“Will he be able to play anytime soon?” That was Peter, voice soft with worry for the frail man in the hospital bed.

“He should rest… Not good to put too much strain on it… Keeping him here until the anaesthetic wears off.”

Tuning them out, Layla looks down at the man sleeping beside her. His hair is matted on one side of his head, and he snores louder than he’d ever admit, but he looks peaceful. He’s not in any pain, and that’s enough for Layla. She drifts off, as the sound of footsteps against the floor draw near. Her tired eyes open to slits, and she sees a shadow with dark, shoulder-length and a beard. It must be Bonzo, she thinks. The last thing Layla hears before succumbing to the exhaustion that plagues her, is the drummer’s soothing voice, hushed to a whisper.

“Let them sleep.”

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taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #led zeppelin #jimmy page #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic #jimmy x oc

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