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foreveranevilregal · 2 years

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19, Smutty Pepa and Fèlix?

You got it! This is extremely long and extremely dirty so...sorry if that's not what you wanted. Seriously, this might be the dirtiest thing I've ever written. It's like 90% smut. You have been warned.

From this prompt list:

19. "I've missed this."

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Pepa raised her eyes from the page and cocked her head towards the door, listening intently.

“Silence.” Félix closed his eyes, humming contentedly. “Utter and complete silence.”

“You’re right…” Pepa shut her book, intrigued. “Why is it so silent again?”

“Well, Dolores is off with Mariano, preparing for the wedding,” Félix listed off on his fingers, “Antonio is helping some of the farmers train their animals better, and Camilo volunteered to stay over at the Garcías’ so that poor woman could finally string together a few hours of sleep…”

“Such a good boy,” Pepa crooned, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “Helping out a new mamá like that.”

“He was raised well by his own mamá,” Félix pointed out, beaming with pride.

A soft smile spread on Pepa’s face. “Still. I don’t miss that time of life. I wouldn’t trade mis bebés for anything in the world-“

“But nothing comes between you and sleep,” Félix finished her thought for her. “Not anymore.”

Her lips curved upwards seductively. “One thing comes between me and sleep…” she trailed off, her fingers trailing lightly over his arm to his chest.

“Is that so?” Félix arched an eyebrow playfully. “Wonder what that could be.” He tapped his chin, pretending to think.

Pepa looked at him through hooded eyes. “Why don’t you find out?” she challenged, pushing one of the straps of her nightgown off her shoulder.

“Oh, it’s that kind of night?” Félix turned his body towards her, tucking an errant curl behind her ear before caressing the side of her face.

She melted into his touch, subconsciously scooting closer to mold herself to his side. “It always is, as far as I’m concerned. But…”

“But we don’t always get the chance.” Félix attached his lips to Pepa’s neck, sucking the delicate skin softly.

Pepa bit her lip out of habit, trying to suppress the moan rising in her throat. ”So good,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut hazily. “I’ve missed this.”

He smiled against her neck. “You don’t have to hold back,” he informed her, detaching his lips from her neck. “None of the kids are here. Let go, mi vida.” His hands roamed over her sides, feeling the smooth fabric of her nightgown that would soon be shed.

“What if Dolores hears?”

“Dolores can control her gift better now. I doubt she’s going to be focusing on what’s going on in Casita right now.”

“What if something happens to Antonio?”

“Pepa, Antonio will be fine. He’s got so many adults around him to keep him safe.”

“What if-“

“Pepa.” Félix grabbed her shoulders firmly. “Stop fretting. All of the kids are fine. And we’re hopefully going to be more than fine.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Before she could protest, he returned to what he was doing before.

A small more tore from her throat as his mouth continued working on her neck while his hands made their way up to her breasts. “I feel bad,” she admitted.

“Why?” He palmed at her clothed breasts, smiling at the hitch in her breathing this elicited.

“For being so happy the kids aren’t home and allowing us to be intimate.” Her cheeks reddened at her words. “Not that they’ve ever stopped us, really, but it’s different when they’re not around. I shouldn’t be so pleased about it.” Hidden by wisps of fog, she bit her lip until it almost bled.

“You’re not a bad person, Pepi. It’s natural to want to spend time alone like this. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” he reassured her, comforting with his touch instead of further stoking the fire in her. “You love those children; we both do. But they don’t need to be with us constantly.” His hand drifted down to her ass, squeezing it and making her squeak. “And we certainly could use the time alone.”

“I suppose…” she conceded, not sounding fully convinced. “I just feel guilty feeling like…I don’t want them around.” She sought out his eyes, needing reassurance.

“You do want them around, amor; just not at moments like these.” He punctuated his remark with a quick squeeze that caused her hips to roll into him. “You’re not complaining about this, are you?” He continued kneading the ample flesh. It was a part of her he really appreciated.

“I would never complain about this.” Her hands reached out, clasping behind the nape of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Though it was sweet and leisurely at first, soon enough she deepened the kiss, snaking her tongue into his mouth and swinging a leg over his to grind herself against his thigh.

“Slow down, mi amor; we have time,” he reminded her. “We don’t have to rush.” He kept kissing her sweetly, planting his hands on her hips as they doubled down on their gyrations.

She hmphed. “Don’t make me wait for this, Félix. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” She ground down on his leg, angling forward to get better friction against her core. Oh yes. Just like that.

“Have you?” He pushed down the other strap of her nightgown, baring her torso to him. “Tell me, querida; what have you been imagining?”

“So many things,” she moaned, her hips moving erratically as she mindlessly chased her peak. “So many wonderful, dirty things.”

“Like this?” His tongue slid into her mouth, absorbing the vibrations of her moan at the sensation. “Or this?” One of his hands closed over her breast, massaging it steadily.

“Yes!” she cried out, arching her chest towards him as he kept working over the sensitive flesh. The occasional pinches of her nipples sent electric jolts straight to her core. “And…” she managed to get out, starting to feel a bit lightheaded.

“And?” His other hand began massaging her neglected breast, drawing out a series of stilted exhales.

“And…” Her head spun. His hands were working wonders on her breasts, and she fought for breath as he kept teasing her. With the last vestiges of clear-headedness, she uttered, “I want you to use your mouth.”

“Oh? Why didn’t you say so?” He grinned, removing one of his hands from her breast and immediately latching on with his mouth, practically engulfing it.

“Ah!” Another wave of arousal shot to her core. Feeling his tongue lave over her breast, swirling around her nipple as he sucked hard. Sharp nips of his teeth were interspersed with kisses, the pain immediately soothed away by his tongue, but not before it could bring her closer to her peak. Warmth began spreading in her belly. Her hands clutched the sheets, grounding herself through the onslaught of stimulation. “Not…not there.”

“No?” He detached his lips from the small mounds with a wet pop. “You don’t like this?” His hands continued lavishing her with attention.

“Estúpido,” she muttered under her breath. Though he’d removed his mouth, his hands more than made up for the loss. If he kept going like that… With both his mouth and hands on her breasts, she was pretty sure she could come from that alone. But she wanted more. Might as well make the most of the fact that there was no one next door to hear her. “You know I love this. Just…never mind,” she exhaled. She felt her peak building higher and higher. Actually, this could work… “Yes, yes, yes!” she panted. So close…just a little more… Her eyes squeezed shut and her nose crinkled in anticipation.

“If it’s not what you want, I can stop.” And the cruel man God had given her as a husband did just that. Both his hands and mouth abruptly stilled their motions.

“¡Félix!” she yelled, her heart pounding inside her chest as she was denied her peak. Her body trembled from the sudden loss of stimulation. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, that’s how ready she had been. Unsatisfied, she reluctantly came down from the high that had been building inside her. As soon as she had regained any semblance of coherence, she unleashed a stream of curses too fast to understand, under cover of a newly formed dark cloud.

But Félix got the gist. “Whoa, tranquila.” He ran his hands over her overheated skin, slick with sweat, watching her chest heave with exertion.

She fixed him with a murderous glare. “Tranquila? Tranquila?!” Her voice rose to an exasperated whine. “You deny me and have the nerve to ask me to be calm on top of that??” Thunder rumbled around them ominously.

His lips met hers, trying to ease her down from her frustration. He easily slid the nightgown down over her hips, tossing it to the ground carelessly and revealing her to him completely. As he kissed her, he felt her shaking under him. Whether it stemmed from rage or arousal, or some twisted combination of the two, he couldn’t say. “Lo siento, Pepa. I know you’re frustrated,” he spoke softly, dragging a single finger over her skin in calming patterns.

“So fix it, tonto,” she sulked, crossing her arms over her chest and covering her breasts. “Don’t just leave me like this. Take care of your wife.”

He resisted the urge to chuckle at her plight. She really hated when he did this to her, but the result was always a sight to behold. “I will,” he promised. “I just didn’t want it to be over for you so soon.”

“I assure you; I would not have minded one bit.” Her still untouched center throbbed at the prospect. Who was he to turn her on so easily, and then not follow through? Stupid man.

“I’ll take care of you, querida,” he assured her, walking his fingers up and down her arm playfully. “I seem to remember you wanting me to use my mouth, but not on your breasts, apparently.” He cupped one of her breasts, careful not to rile her up, just weighing it in his palm. “Even though they are such delectable little mouthfuls.” His fingers traced around the curve of it, not nearly hard enough to be satisfying.

She scoffed, fighting the urge to slap some sense into him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you? After all these years?” She rolled her eyes. What was the point in saying what they wanted to do when they could just do it?

“Yes. I want to hear you say it. Where do you want me to use my mouth?” He waited expectantly.

“Fine,” she fumed, the small dark cloud over her head casting a shadow over them. It tore her up inside to admit defeat, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Félix…” she locked her eyes on his, “I want you to use your mouth on my pussy.” Emerald green bore into chocolate brown.

His face lit up like someone told him Christmas had come early. “Gladly, mi vida.” He kissed her collarbones and started descending down her body, trailing kisses all the way.

“Every time,” she griped. “Every time, we have to do this. When you know what I mean when I say that. What I always mean when I say that. And I know you know. But you make me work for it anyway.” She drew in ragged breaths, his ministrations starting to affect her again.

“Because I like to hear you say it.” He said simply, kissing around her breasts once more. “Telling me exactly what you want. I like to hear you beg.” He smirked smugly.

“I will never beg,” she asserted; very bold words for a woman teetering too close to the edge already. “¡Ay!”

He had just bitten her breast harder than earlier. “Oh, I think we both know that you’ll be begging me for release soon enough.” He gave her a few more nips for good measure, suppressing a smirk at the way her hips canted upward from the contact.

She didn’t dignify the comment with a response. If she did, she knew she would crumble and then he would have all the power. Besides, it was becoming more difficult to speak. Instead, she complained, “Why are you not doing what I asked you to yet?” She squirmed uncomfortably. Her whole body was now bare, and she knew how wet she must be. Hell, she was probably dripping on the sheets. Ugh.

He trapped one of her nipples between his teeth, dragging them over it repeatedly. Meanwhile, he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger, tweaking it in sync with the ministrations of his mouth.

Her eyes rolled back in her head. Screw the damn sheets. She’d just wash them later.

He released her nipple to reply. “I’m enjoying myself up here.” He dug his fingers into her breast to illustrate his point.

Pepa whimpered. She was torn between letting him keep doing what he was doing (her breasts were so sensitive that if she just kept her mouth shut, his mouth could push her over the edge) or getting her way. But now the idea had wormed its way into her head, and all she wanted to do was fall apart on his tongue, grasping at the sheets, unable to think, unable to speak, able only to feel absolute pleasure. His mouth gave her the most earth shattering orgasms, and with no kids at home, she would settle for nothing less. “We both know you enjoy using your mouth on me,” she cajoled.

“That’s true.” Finally, his head moved lower, pressing kisses over her stomach and nuzzling the divots in her hips with his nose.

“Félix, I swear to God-“

“Ten paciencia, amor.” He rubbed his thumbs in the divots. “We’ll get there soon enough.”

“Soon enough would’ve been half an hour ago,” she grumbled, frowning.

“You’re very grumpy for someone being thoroughly ravished.”

“Can you be a little less thorough and just eat me out already?” Irritation tinged her words.

“What, you’re going to deny me the opportunity to show my wife how much I love her?” He pried open her legs, taking in the result of his handiwork. “Plus, it seems like your mouth is the only part of you that’s complaining.” He ran his hands over her thighs, relishing in the goosebumps that formed in their wake. A quick swipe of his finger through her folds left it glistening, and he stuck it into his mouth with a pop.

“Félix…” Her eyes glittered dangerously. “If you really love your wife, you would do what she fucking asked you to!” Lightning arced through the air, thankfully not hitting anything important.

He knelt between her legs, looking at her almost reverently. “Okay, okay, okay.” He started at her knee, kissing up the inside of her thigh: small, open-mouthed kisses barely sucking on the skin. Nothing that would leave a mark. Tonight wasn’t that kind of night. He meandered up towards the apex of her thighs, feeling her thigh muscles tense as he approached his target.

Her mouth fell open as she prepared herself for him to finally put his mouth on her and ruin her. To her surprise, he skipped right over her center and instead went down the other thigh. “What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded angrily.

“I want to kiss all of your freckles.” His face was the image of perfect innocence.

“And you really,” her voice quavered with her rage, “felt that right now would be the time to undertake such a lengthy task? Knowing that I-” Her voice broke off. She was too riled up to be able to do anything but focus on the fact that her core pulsed from the attention it had been promised and cruelly denied.

He screwed up his features in thought. “You know what, you’re right. There’s a lot of freckles, and you don’t seem to be able to control yourself and wait for me.” He was playing with fire, he knew that, but it would just make the end result all the better.

Her nostrils flared. He should consider himself lucky she couldn’t reach her book. Otherwise, it would be aimed at his head. All she could do was narrow her eyes and exhale forcefully. She could barely even breathe at this point, between her arousal, and the hot, humid air weighing down on them. She might have growled, but it was getting hard to tell what was real when all her blood was pooling somewhere decidedly farther south than her brain.

Félix lifted his head, devotion shining in his eyes. “You’ve been so good for me, amor. I think you deserve your reward.”

“Yes, fucking fina-“ The rest of her thought was cut off by her scream.

Abandoning all pretense of teasing her, he had planted his lips fully on her clit, kissing it briefly before withdrawing. “Is that better?”

“No more games, Félix. Make me come.” Her eyes held a steely glint that promised bad things for anyone who disappointed her right now.

Deciding he had better heed her words this time, he kissed down her folds before pulling them apart and pressing a kiss right on her opening.

“Yes!” Finally. Pepa was so happy she could cry. Probably was crying, if the hysterical shakes wracking her body were any indication.

He traced his tongue over her folds, gathering up the copious wetness. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she was close. Although he wanted to savor this, for the sake of his marriage he would keep it short. His tongue delved into her core, flicking upward on the way out.

Her entire back arched off the bed. “¡Así!” Her peak was building more rapidly than ever. All she could think about was how much she needed to come. Nothing else mattered.

He continued what he was doing for a while, lapping up the juices that were just dripping out of her as if they were his favorite food. But her thighs quaked around his head, trapping him in a vice, and he hurried his pace.

Pepa threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling it roughly as she mashed his face against herself. She was so dizzyingly close it hurt. “Please,” she begged. “Please please please.” Tears streamed down her face. Her throat was so hoarse, she must have been screaming.

He nodded in acknowledgment, taking out his tongue in order to pay some sorely needed attention to her woefully neglected clit. Briefly, his tongue circled it, and the force of Pepa’s hips bucking up into it almost launched him backwards. His lips closed around it as his fingers entered her, pumping inside her steadily, curling on the upstroke against that ridged spot that would make her unravel. He devoted himself entirely to getting her there. She was close, he could tell: glassy eyes, shallow breathing, her entire body tense, poised for what was to come.

She felt her orgasm about to wash over her. And she was- Oh. Oh no. Her eyes widened as she tried to warn him, “Félix, I’m going to-“

“Come for me,” he encouraged, adding another finger and pulling her clit into his mouth as he sucked.

She fell over the edge, gushing and continuing to ride his face through the aftershocks. Wave after powerful wave tore through her and all she could do was let them overtake her body. Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. She’d barely begun to come down from her high when Félix poked his head up.

“Pepa, I’m sorry, I-“ Fabric hit the ground and with surprising speed, his body covered hers. “I have to.” His words were strained as he plunged inside her, slamming her roughly into the mattress as he thrust into her forcefully. Lips still drenched with her juices covered her own and kissed her in rhythm with his thrusts.

Tasting herself on him always drove her wild, and she let out a keening wail. He was hitting all the right spots inside her, scraping her overstimulated walls. When she was younger, she might have been able to go for another round. But it was different now. “It’s okay, don’t hold back.” Her hand ran down the side of his face gently, letting him know it was okay that he couldn’t last.

With a pained grunt, he spilled inside her, pushing into her until he was empty. Sighing, he pulled out of her, lying down next to her once more.

Her eyes were wide as saucers, staring at the ceiling unblinkingly as she caught her breath. “That was…”

“Was that what you wanted?” He wiped off the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand. Noticing she was shivering slightly now in the cool air, he covered her with a blanket.

“It was, but…” She peeked at the foot of the bed apprehensively. Sure enough, the sheets were soaked. “I made a mess.” She wrinkled her nose disgustedly. “I should have controlled myself.” Raindrops pattered gently on the bed, which didn’t make her feel any better about the sheets.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Félix asked simply.

She sighed. “I did, but Félix, now we have to wash-“

He held up a hand to stop her. “Just answer the question. Did you enjoy yourself?”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “As if you couldn’t tell.” She could still see the evidence of her… enjoyment… on his face.

“Forget about the sheets then. We’ll wash them.” He grinned proudly. “I made you come so hard.” He licked around his lips, tasting what was left of her.

“You did.” Her limbs felt boneless now. “Thank you.” She was drifting off, but one question nagged at her. “Félix?”

“Yes, mi corazón?”

“Why do you put me through this every time I want you to use your mouth on me? This song and dance where I have to ask and beg and go around in circles instead of you just letting me come?”

He smiled. “Because, mi vida, it helps you surrender control for a bit. You hate it, but you can’t control everything. Including that.” He gestured towards the foot of the bed. “It’s a good reminder for you.”

Her face was burning up. “I wish that didn’t happen.”

“Do you really?” He looked at her skeptically. “You would rather not have experienced an explosive orgasm?”

“Well no, it felt absolutely incredible, but the mess…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kissed her cheek. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Besides,” he leaned down to whisper into her ear, “I think it’s really sexy when you do that.”

Her cheeks reddened. “Really?” It didn’t happen all the time, and she always felt a twinge of guilt afterwards. He’d never said anything to make her feel bad, but she worried that it was too much.

“Really,” he confirmed. “And that’s the other reason why I don’t just let you come right away. Even though I know you don’t like it.”

“You don’t like it either,” she pointed out petulantly. “When I do it to you.” If she had her way, she could tease him for ages, rile him up until he couldn’t take it anymore. Talk about impatient…

He studied her, considering his options. “Well, you could always return the favor.” He regretted it as soon as he saw the wicked gleam in her eyes.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

#pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #pepa x felix #felix x pepa #asks #Anonymous #writing answered prompts #foreveranevilregal writes #writing encanto #writing feliepa #i am so sorry #also i just can't edit this anymore #so if there are any mistakes we have to live with them #again sorry if you hate this #pepa is... not a patient woman

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cherry-gemz · 4 years

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter One

Summary: You find yourself abroad in London as the Chief of Pediatrics. Everything has been running smoothly until you are faced with an undiagnosed case and the doctor assigned is anything but willing to face defeat. Will you be able treat the child's unknown disease in time, along while facing uncharted waters with love in the workplace?

Parings: Henry Cavill {Dr. Cavill} x Y/N {F!Reader}

Rating: Overall series 18+ only, Chapter is PG

Word count: 2200 +/-

Tags: @evansamericanass @meowpurrbooks @lilithpaijiee @pterodactylterrace

A/N: Trying something new at writing Henry fanfic. IDK if it’s any good, but either way wanted to start writing. LMK if you're interested, comments and tags welcomed! 💜

P.S. I am no means in any medical field or sorts, so if I get something incorrect on a term or process, bear with me xo.

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

You knew that it was a gamble moving to the UK for the Chief of Pediatrics position. But it was time for a change. You needed to leave Eugene, Oregon. Start fresh. There was too much pain there and you had to get away. So when your cousin, who was a nurse from Brighton informed you that there was a need at her hospital for the highly-visible role, you thought why the hell not? You'd score a free round-trip to England of anything and actually see some family you've never met if it didn't pan out.

Little did you know that you'd fall in love with London: the weather, the people, the imagery of it all. Oregon weather wasn't all too different, so you acclimated well. It had been a few months of you settling in: understanding more of the language barriers despite it still being English. Knackered, cuppa, trollied.

That is until you had a run in with the division chief of Pediatrics, Dr. Cavill. The staff adored the renowned and painstakingly handsome doctor. And while you could appreciate the view as well, you never were on the same page with his ideals. His defiant behavior of undermining your direction of the unit was becoming a thorn in your side.

But this time, this time you'd had enough. He mentioned to a patient's parents, while with the speciality case, the hospital could take on their son's situation as priority and receive around the clock care. You threw down the patient's file on your desk and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was a lost cause, you had looked into the patient ever since you started the role.

The child seemed perfectly healthy and lab tests may show no signs of illness. But the chronic pain and fatigue were unexplainable. You empathized, but the poor child has undergone so many tests that at this point it was about providing facts to the parents. And right now, there was no cause of alarm. You weren’t a Dr. House, this wasn’t television. You didn't have the staff to dive into any research or clinical studies. You had a hospital to run, employees to pay, other lives needed saving.

You picked up the phone to the case nurse on the pediatric floor.

"Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Y/LN. Can you please remind Dr. Cavill of our 5pm? He's late. Thank you."

Slowly hanging up on the phone, you turn back to the patient's file. The boy, Jon Foulger, was just shy of his ninth birthday. No positive results for Lupus or Guillain-Barré syndrome. But This case had been bothering you, poor Jon had been in the hospital for three months and still no progress on a diagnosis. While you were never known to give up on a patient, you knew giving false hope to the parents was detrimental not only to the family, but to the same of the hospital's integrity. You were in a high esteemed role now, you knew that you had to discuss further with Henry on his actions.

Twenty more minutes passed by and you checked your watch. Fuming, you stood up from your desk and headed down to the pediatric floor by the lift.

As you briskly walk down the hall corridors you can't wait to give Cavill a piece of your mind. You turn the corner and ram right into a brick wall, or so you thought. Your hands instinctively pick up and see placed on the doctor's firm chest. You immediately flush and lose composure.

You knew he was a good-looking man, but this up close and personal was a whole other level. His dark hair and curls were fluffy and good enough to touch. His piercing steel blue eyes looked at yours and made immediate contact. His bone structure made the Michaelangelo's David blush.

"My apologies, Dr. Y/LN. Didn't see you there," his voice was like butter.

You straightened out your white coat, "Ahem, yes. Well I seemed to have been lost in thought. My apologies as well."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, almost an hour ago…" you shifted your weight to stand a bit taller. He towered over you with his muscular frame and height.

"Patient...Jon Foulger. We must discuss the repercussions of your current actions."

"Jon-Jon," he replied stoic.

"Excuse me?"

"He likes to be called Jon-Jon."

"Well yes, let's go to my office and discuss further, please Dr. Cavill."

"As you wish," he replied and pivoted his heel to the nearby lift.

The rise up to the 12th floor was a quiet one, awkward overall as you knew you had to give a coaching and hated the notion. You missed practicing medicine; while you enjoyed the administration of your position, the thrill of helping others and using your hands were erased with cases of employee performance reviews, reports, budgets.

He coughed into his fist and then held his strong hands in place in a clasp.

He finally broke the silence, "Enjoying London?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Have you had any time to take a holiday?"

"Um, no. Been too busy."

"It might do you some good," he replies as he looks to check his watch.

You huff, "Somewhere you need to be, Doctor?"

"No, just checking the time."

His arrogance irritated you and now you weren't feeling as badly to give him his coaching.

The lift opened as you arrived at the floor and he held out the door for you to exit first. You nod and walk to your office, your kitten heels clicked on the hospital's linoleum floor and the sound echoed through your ears.

As you both enter your office you stride quickly to your desk to assume dominance of the room.

Henry stood near the doorway, admiring your photos and certificates on the wall.

"I knew you were American, but Stanford Medical? Interesting, thought you were from Oregon. When will you be returning?" You can't read him if that was a compliment or sarcasm.

"Dr. Cavill, would you be so kind to shut the door," you state firmly and sit down, ignoring his comment about your return to the states.

His brow peaks and he nods, turning to close the door.

"Please, have a seat," you say.

"I'd rather stand, thank you," he replies and you know this is going to be a difficult conversation.

"Well this will only take a moment then. Your recent behavior with the Foulger family, while I commend you for your dedication, has been slight askew with the hospital's protocols."

"Is that so?" His voice dropped and his brow arched. "In what way, Dr. Y/LN?"

You cough as the drawl of his mouth turns upward and you can swear there's a smug smirk across his face.

"Well...for one...you've promised around the care of the child. Now simply put, we've exhausted all efforts for a diagnosis and until Jon...Jon-Jon…shows any new symptoms, we are at liberty to provide him comfort care for the remainder of the evening, but he will need to be discharged in the morning. We've exhausted him enough with MRIs, blood tests. I'm at a rock in a hard place, Dr. Cavill."

"The rock or the hard place where you give up on a child's well-being simply because you haven't thought to see him as a person? Rather as a number on your statistical analysis of how functioning this hospital is?"

His eyes pierce through you and make your knees grow weak. The nurse staff usually talks about him being a cuddly bear, always making the children laugh and smile. But this man before you, why he's no cuddly bear. He was a beast of a man. A grizzly in fact.

"Now see here, I will let you know that this case is very important to me. All the children are. But what you fail to see is that for whatever reason you've gravitated to this particular case, you're chasing something that doesn't exist."

His broad shoulders and strong neck tense at your words. He blinks methodically, as if he's scoping out his prey. No, don't let his charm and rugged good looks distract you. This is a man who is used to getting what he wants and you are a woman who knows perfectly what to do with that.

"And I believe you're blind, Doctor."

"Excuse me?" Your voice was shrill and short. "This is borderline insubordination. I'd be careful with your next words, Cavill."

"Pardon my frankness, Dr. Y/LN, but I've been here longer and know these patients in and out," his voice raised and you could see the hint of a vein showing on his thick neck. "Some of the children come from very poor and debilitating environments. We can't just cast them off once a diagnosis doesn't stick simply because we need the bed or we're done trying!"

"DR. CAVILL," you exclaim and let out an exasperated sigh. His demeanor changed and his upper lip curved slightly.

“Dr. Y/LN. With all due respect, I think you’re making the wrong judgement call here. Things are not adding up with Jon-Jon, if we just give it a few more days...I feel like we’re making progress and I’ve labored enough research into it-”

"Again, while I appreciate your passion...”

“Passion which you need to show for the patient-”

You raise your hand to silence him, “This is not up to you, Dr. Cavill. As Chief of Pediatrics, this is my call. We will discharge Jon tomorrow if he does not show any new symptoms. If you disobey any further protocols, I will have no other choice but resort to disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?"

You press your hands on your desk and lean inward, portraying your stance.

"Perfectly," he responded.

"And another thing, I -" you start, but he turns and abruptly walks out of your office, leaving your door open.

The nerve! Did he really just do that? Where does he think he's going? Didn't I just tell him I'd resort to disciplinary action?!

You rush out of your office and you see him striding through the hall. His strong posture, shoulders back eluded to years of boarding school perhaps or military. You noticed his fists were clenched and it gave you slight satisfaction that you chipped away ever so slightly at his ego.

It was going to take a lot more than that to send you packing, you thought.

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

The next day came and went. You had confirmed that Jon-Jon was discharged with the floor nurse and while you were relieved to have handled that quite professionally, you knew it did not bear well with the rest of the staff.

You were still getting your feet wet and learning more about your team. It was solid overall, many years of expertise collectively, but they treated you like the outsider you were. No requests to meet for lunch or drinks after work. No camaraderie birthday cards seeking your signature or date night advice. Just the normal days in and out, pulling many late nights in your office, up to the point of exhaustion. You'd collapse in your double bed after work, stare at the ceiling of the small room you rented from your cousin, Laura, and try to drown out all the bustle of seven people in the same 3 bedroom flat.

Just like any other day, You sat alone during lunch. But that never really was ever a bother being used to it now. You were excited about an audiobook you were meaning to dive into and right when you were about to use your airpods, that's when you noticed him enter the cafeteria.

His presteen, crisp white lab coat was tight around his build. You could tell he took fitness seriously and wondered what he was hiding underneath it all. You unknowingly licked your lips as you watched him search for a fruit out of the bowl off the commons counter. Curious to know what he fancied: was he into a sweet apple or something more tart like cherries.

He picked up a peach and squeezed it with his massive hand, making it look quite comical considering his size. His eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, trying to now draw any attention to yourself. You fumbled with your phone as you connected to the audiobook and heart his footsteps approached your empty table.

"Good afternoon," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and inviting. Not at all like the day before in your office.

You play coy and don't bother to look up, fidgeting with your sandwich.

"Hello," you reply distantly. He made you nervous. Would he bring up yesterday's conversation? Will he continue to look that delectable each day?

He smirked and took a bite of the fuzzy peach. There was a slight crunch as he dug his pearly whites into the rounded fruit. The velvet and thin layer of skin eased off and entered his mouth; he chewed slightly and let the piece swirl around with his thick tongue.

You peered to look at him and his stare hadn't relented. He took another bite. This time the luscious juice slips out of the white-yellow fleshed fruit and down slightly on his chin. Oh, to be that piece of fruit and have him ravish you that way. How he’d expertly use his hands over you and taste you with those lips.

He can tell you're still distant, however he notices you're unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He walks over, closer to you now, and you can smell his cologne: a woody aromatic scent tied with a hint of suede. It's downright delicious and with the mix of the peach, your senses are in overdrive.

What is it with this man and his ability to excite and anger you all at once? You not only want to put him into his place, you want to do so right here on the cafeteria table and have your way with him.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" He smiles devilishly and places the half eaten fruit on the table next to your phone and walks away.

Your cringe and use all your might to not look back at him. He's going to make this very hard for you, very hard indeed.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fics #romance #london #Healing Hands #enemies to lovers #doctor romantic

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elijahs-wife · 4 years

Text

Why Me?

Requested by @hellotvshowtrash - Hi Tehani ❤️ could you do a fic with the prompt “if I could change one thing, it would be proposing to the wrong man/woman.” ? OR A FLUFFY ONE “falling in love with you was instinctive. Like I was born to do it.” Thank you! 💓

A/N: TYSM ASHLEE!! 💗 I FINALLY FINISHED IT! I've been crazy busy these days which is why it took so long. Like/reblog if you enjoyed reading please <3

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Female! Reader

Word Count: 3220+

Warnings: none, really.

(not my gif!)

Writing a thesis should not be this hard, Y/N fumed inwardly, her fingernails mindlessly tapping at her laptop keyboard without actually typing anything. It was almost 1 am, since she had decided to stay up a little later than usual to try and get started on her paper, but she had no luck yet – all she had done so far was reorganise her desk. Her phone starting ringing from the nightstand where she had left it in the hopes that it would allow her to work better, so she stood up to go and answer it, wondering who it could be but grateful for an excuse to take a break from her attempts at working. Despite her frustration at the disaster on top of her desk, she smiled reflexively when she saw the name flashing on her screen, and swiftly swiped her finger across it. "Hey", she answered, her agitation clear.

"Hello, my love", Elijah said. The smooth sound of his voice would never fail to calm her down – already her breathing had deepened and slowed, and her shoulders relaxed. "Thesis still giving you trouble?"

"Like you wouldn't believe", she grumbled, plopping herself down on the edge of the bed. "I've been at this for so long now, but I just can't make any progress, it's like my brain has totally shut down." She heaved a weary sigh, falling back onto the soft duvet.

Her heart fluttered when she heard his quiet laugh. "Perhaps the issue is that you're putting far too much pressure on yourself. Maybe you simply need... a distraction. To take your mind off of all this work for a little while", he suggested, trying to sound innocent, but she could practically hear him smirk through the phone.

"Oh yeah?" she said, eyebrows raised but laughing nonetheless, "and what kind of distraction would you advise?"

"I was thinking dinner with me tomorrow night, followed by some music. Camille tells me there will be a band performing at Rousseau's and they're supposed to be quite talented. So, what do you say?"

"Food, alcohol and music? Like I'd say no to that", Y/N said, giggling. "I would love to go out with you, Elijah."

"I'll pick you up at 7.30 then", he replied, sounding pleased. "Goodnight, Y/N. I love you."

She almost jumped up and down in excitement but then reminded herself she was no longer a teenager. "I love you too. Goodnight", she said, disconnecting the call. She clutched her phone to her heart, a smile lighting up her entire face. Dating an Original vampire was challenging, and it was moments like these that she really cherished – moments where they didn't have to be anything more than a regular couple. Deciding to abandon her paper for the night, she rolled over her bed to reach the light switch and tucked herself in, before quickly floating into a good night's sleep.

- The next day -

Elijah pulled out his phone when he felt it ping and vibrate inside his pocket. The corner of his mouth curved upwards slightly when he saw that it was a message from Y/N. Hey! Got off work early. Can't wait for our date tonight! Xx

Me too, he typed in response. See you at 7.30 sharp. She sent a kissy face emoji back at him which only made his smile widen. Through all of the horrors that his own mother, Esther, had inflicted on him and his siblings the past few months, Y/N had remained his anchor to humanity, to the world. He often felt guilty that she was constantly pulled into whatever crisis he and his family were hit with, but she was strong – she knew how to handle herself and how to handle him too. But for one night, he was eager to show her that they could still have some sense of normalcy, that they could act the way that ordinary people do. She deserved that much.

"Well well, isn't this quite the miracle. Elijah smiles! Someone ought to alert the press", he heard behind him. He spun around and glared at his little brother who was standing in the doorway.

"What is it that has the noble stag running wild? Let me guess, the lovely Y/N", he said with a devious smirk.

"Not that it's any of your business, Niklaus, but yes. Y/N and I will be going out tonight, so kindly refrain from calling me. I will not take kindly to any intrusions that are not of dire nature." he quipped.

Klaus raised his hands in mock surrender. "Don't worry, brother. I'll hold the fort down here. Best of luck with your uh, date", he said as he walked away, his tone more sarcastic than genuine in typical Klaus fashion.

----

It was just past five o'clock when Y/N returned to her apartment after work, since she had been let off early. She was already in high spirits after a productive day at the office, and psyched for her date. She decided to start getting herself ready, since she wanted to look her best – not that Elijah really minded if she wasn't always one hundred percent dolled up, but sometimes Y/N could hardly believe that someone like him could love someone as ordinary as her. Despite the hardships that came with being involved in his world, he was the most extraordinary man she had ever known, and it wasn't very hard to feel unworthy. So the effort she would be putting into making herself look good was more for herself than for him.

After a long, hot shower and blow drying her hair to near perfection (she could never get the back quite right), there was just under a half hour till Elijah would arrive. All she had left to do was put on her dress and tackle the task of putting on some makeup. Y/N had very minimal makeup skills, so she kept the makeup minimal too – a coating of mascara, a light wash of eyeshadow and a little lip gloss, and she was done. I don't look too bad at all, she thought as she watched herself in the mirror, she was actually quite pleased with her work. She slid her feet into a strappy pair of heels and slipped on a satiny little black dress, perfect for date night, and she reached around to zip it from the back. She was struggling to pull it all the way up when she heard a sudden knock on the door. She glanced at the clock on the wall, which showed that it was already 7.30. Right on time as always, she thought with a smile, as she walked to her front door and opened it. Her heart beat twice as fast at the sight of him – as usual, he was perfection, standing there in a sleek black suit holding a large bouquet of flowers. He started to open his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out – he simply dragged his eyes over her, drinking her in. "Hey", she said, feeling almost shy after his reaction to her, "come in."

He walked through the doorway and closed it behind him. "Good evening. For you", he said, offering her the flowers – her favourite, white lilies. "Oh, Elijah, you really didn't have to", she said, their heady, sweet fragrance already saturating the air. "I know. I wanted to", he said with a small smile. She placed one hand on his shoulder and reached up to press a long, soft kiss on his lips that left both of them slightly giddy when she pulled away. He would never get enough of her kisses, her warm lips against his, it was intoxicating.

She moved to the sink to fill up a small vase with water for the lilies, and remembered she was still technically undressed. "Oh hey, could you zip me up?" she asked, leaning over the sink as she arranged the flowers into the glass. "Ugh, do I have to?" he said jokingly as he walked over to her. "Personally, I think this dress looks better like this." He ran a finger slowly down her exposed back, and leaned into the crook of her neck, about to kiss her skin.

"Yes, you have to!" she said, reaching to playfully hit his arm as she laughed. "Or we'll be late, Elijah." He mock-scowled at her. "Fine", he said, pulling up the zip of her dress carefully. "You look exquisite as always, Y/N. Come, let's go." Gentleman that he was, he offered her a hand, which she gladly took, and led her out of her flat.

----

Rousseau's was only seven minutes away from the restaurant, so they decided to walk there after their meal. Elijah did not let go of her hand the entire journey, a small gesture but it meant a lot to Y/N. Dinner had gone well for the most part, except for the annoyingly flirty waitress. Y/N had noticed her watching them from the corner of the room more than once, and no one could have missed the sultry eyes she made at him whenever she brought something to their table, or the multiple "accidental" brushes against his arm. She tried to be unaffected but she couldn't lie to herself, it pissed her off to no end. Elijah was an extremely attractive man, and it wasn't unnatural for him to get attention from other women, but did they really have to make it so obvious, even in her presence? It had been so long since they had had a proper date, though, that she decided to just ignore it instead of ruining the mood by bringing it up.

They were almost there, and could already hear the music coming from what looked to be a very crowded bar. The place radiated restless energy – there were people all over, some drinking, some appreciating the music, some already drunk and dancing in an alcohol-fueled frenzy. Elijah kept his hand on the small of her back as he led her inside. "What would you like to drink?" he asked, leaning into her ear so that she would hear him over the music. "Uh, scotch on the rocks would be great", she replied. She had never been a scotch girl, but whiskey was pretty much the only thing besides blood that the Mikaelsons kept a steady stock of at their home, so she had grown to like it. Elijah ordered the drinks while Y/N stood at the edge of the crowd of dancing people, bobbing her head and vibing to the jazz. "Are you enjoying it?" he asked her, handing her the cold glass of whiskey. "I really am", she replied, beaming up at him. She took a sip of her drink, welcoming the slight burn in her throat and the warmth spreading through her body. For a while, both of them simply stood there and enjoyed the music, with his arm around her waist and her hand holding his. "Will you hold my drink for a minute?" she asked him, "I really need to use the restroom."

"Certainly", he replied, taking her glass from her and watching as she walked away from him. What a view, he thought, sipping his whiskey with a smile.

Y/N entered a bathroom stall and locked it behind her. She was just about to open the door after relieving herself, when she heard two women come in, talking very loudly. "Oh my God, did you see that guy at the bar?" one of them said. "Wait, which one?" the other replied. "The one in the black suit, obviously", the first woman said. Black suit? They're talking about Elijah! Y/N thought. No one else in the entire establishment was wearing a suit. She stayed behind the door, waiting for the rest of the conversation.

"Oh God, yes, he is delicious", she heard the other one say over the sound of water running. "I just wanted to rip that suit right off." Y/N glowered, suddenly filled with the desire to punch something, or better yet, someone.

"Ugh, I know right? He's here with someone though, I saw them together."

"Ooh, and what did she look like?"

"Honest opinion? She's kind of ugly. I know that's not PC and we can't say that anymore but come on. She was so plain. I wonder what he sees in her."

"He's probably just stringing her along", the other woman replied, laughing. Y/N heard the clacking of heels on tile as they left the bathroom. She opened the stall door and walked to the mirror slowly, taking a long look at herself under the unflattering fluorescent lights. Suddenly her makeup looked overdone, her hair was matted and her dress too tight in the wrong places. She hadn't thought about herself as ugly in a long time, but the familiar feelings of unworthiness took no time at all to come rushing back. Tears started to prick at her eyes, and she blinked frantically to try and stop them from falling. Strange how someone you don't even know can make you feel so crappy, she thought. She couldn't help feeling her heart sinking in her chest. Wonder what he sees in her. Since the start of their relationship, Y/N had always thought about this in the back of her mind but never voiced it out loud, too enamoured by him to be able to handle his answer, or lack of one. She dabbed a tissue at her eyes so as to not ruin her mascara, before she left the restroom feeling more deflated than ever.

She walked over to Elijah, who appeared to be having quite a good time, moving his body subtly to the music. He was already on his second or third drink, and the band was playing a very lively song. A wild grin broke out on his face when he spotted Y/N on her way to him, and he took her hand and kissed it. "Would you like to dance?" he asked her, clearly a little buzzed – he never danced if he could help it. "Actually, I think I'd like to go home now, if that's okay", she replied, in no mood to dance right now. His smile faded when he saw the dejected expression on her face, but he didn't question it. "I'll get us a cab", he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and turning to leave the bar.

The cab ride to Y/N's building was short and totally silent. Elijah followed her without a word to her apartment and through the door. "Thanks for bringing me home", she said, setting her purse down on her sofa, not really making eye contact with him. "And now that you're home, perhaps you won't mind telling me what's wrong", he said, leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed. "It's nothing", she deflected, mindlessly shuffling through a pile of mail on a side table. "Certainly doesn't seem like nothing", he said quietly, moving closer to her. "What's on your mind, baby?" He lightly touched his hand to her arm, a gentle request to talk to him.

She turned around and stared at him, unable to stop her emotions from bubbling over. "How is it that you're even in love with me?" she asked. She didn't intend to sound accusatory but Elijah couldn't help but feel reproved. "Are you questioning my feelings for you? What brought this on?" he asked, his brows furrowed together. "I'm just asking", she said, sighing, "why did you choose me?"

"Why did you choose me?" he shot back, looking confounded. She stopped and gaped at him. "Hello? Have you seen yourself?" she asked, laughing humourlessly and gesturing wildly at him. "You could be a freaking Dior model, Elijah. You could have anyone you wanted to like that", she said, snapping her fingers. "So why pick me, some unremarkable, average human girl?" Her voice trailed away, and she looked down at her hands, almost afraid to hear his answer.

He took a step closer to her, his expression softening. He hated it when she doubted herself. "Y/N. I chose you because you are beautiful, both on the inside and the outside. You were strong enough to handle me when I was experiencing one of the darkest times of my life. I was... lost, in my own past sins. And it was you that pulled me back. Because you are kind and loving, and unfailingly good. And I need that goodness in my life, Y/N. I need you. My love, you are the most remarkable woman I've ever met." He caressed her face tenderly, and pushed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "Falling in love with you was instinctive. Like I was born to do it. In a thousand years, I have never felt for anyone the way that I do for you." Her cheeks flushed beneath his fingertips, and tears welled up in her eyes. He took her face gently in his hands and bridged the distance between them with a kiss, their lips moving perfectly in sync, hands pulling each other closer. His breath was sweet and whiskey-tinged, and she hungrily let it fill her lungs. She was so absorbed in him that she almost forgot to breathe – she was panting when they finally pulled their lips apart, their foreheads still touching.

"So, now will you take up my offer to dance?" he asked her, smiling wistfully at her. She looked up at him, pleasantly surprised. "I would love to dance with you, but there's no music." He shot her a cheeky grin as he pulled out his phone and opened the Spotify app. "Whoa", she said, taken aback, "you have Spotify?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "I am a vampire, Y/N, not a caveman." He set his phone down on the table nearby and the sounds of a soft piano filled the room. He took her hand and twirled her expertly into his arms, his hand resting on her back, while she placed her hands on his shoulders and melted against his warm body. They fell into step, moving slowly to the music. In that moment, it was as if the whole world fell away, and the only thing that remained was this moment, the two of them.

"You have the most wondrous eyes, Y/N. More beautiful than any star in the sky could hope to be", he said, gazing into them, watching them glisten under the dim light of the room. Her cheeks turned pink at his words. "Thank you," she said shyly, resting her head against his shoulder.

They continued to dance, too lost in the music and each other to stop. She brought her head up to look at him, eyes glowing with joy. "I love you, Elijah Mikaelson." Happiness took over his face – hearing her say those three words would never lose its impact. "I love you too," he replied, his expression one of pure bliss. As he drew her closer to his chest, Y/N thanked her lucky stars that she had found Elijah. She knew from the beginning that she would have done anything, faced anything if it meant she could be with him. But tonight, she knew for certain that they belonged together, that he felt as strongly for her as she did for him. To her, that was everything.

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #elijah imagines #elijah x reader #the originals fanfiction #the originals fanfic

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misskittysmagicportal · 4 years

Text

All You’ve Got Is Gold Part 1

FandomAU!: Billy Delaney/Cormac McNamara x Female OC

Warnings: Slight NSFW, mostly steamy fluff. Guys this ended up being long as fuck. And it’s really only chapter one. Or Part 1.

Jeanie leaned over the bar at Ewan's to pour herself another whiskey, ignoring the bartender as he chastised her. "C'mon lass, don't the wee ones file in to the grounds tomorrow?"

"Wee?" she gulped around her swallow. "Ewan, they're pubescent. You know me though, I like to have a bit of a glow every new semester. That way the parents think I'm truly invested in the well-being of the brats." Jean waved her glass around in the air. "Ok, not brats. Most of them are well-behaved and genuinely interested in learning. Not like the little bastards in America. I'd have 40 to a classroom back there. Saint Fergus barely has 40 students in the entire school."

Ewan took it as a sign and gave her a generous pour one more time, "Heard you cannae keep any professors for the pay. But your husband-"

"EX. As of last spring," Jean corrected.

"EX-husband found some new blood in a few of his University students."

"Aye," Jeanie imitated the Scottish brogue with perfection. "They're all in the corner over there with Dr Purves now."

She had half a decade to assimilate to the culture of the small, boring town just outside of Aberdeen where she followed Gordon and married him without any family or a job. He became head of the Physics and STEM department at the University of Aberdeen, working on projects and female students alike. Jeanie, having abandoned her Master's in Education, was really only qualified to student-teach at a local boarding school. Before long, lack of interest and the economy drove the numbers down to four or five dozen and a position of Headmistress open. At least it was a place to live and an existence that kept her mind off everything else.

"I would say don't look now, because here comes one of his students, but my darling who can keep their eyes off him." Ewan pointed behind his friend with damn near literal hearts in his eyes.

Jeanie glanced over her shoulder as a young man, early 20s? She couldn't tell. But he approached her at the bar. Her first glance became a double, and nearly a stare. Embarrassed, she whipped her head around quickly and blushed in Ewan's general direction. "Sweet Virgin Mary," she exhaled under her breath.

"I normally go by Delaney, but I suppose in certain company Mary will do," a soft Irish lilt.

Jean slow blinked as the bartender broke into a cheshire grin. She took a deep breath and turned towards the man now beside her and held out her hand. Blood pulsing in her ears because.. he was stunning. "Brave of a Celt to set foot in the land of Picts. Even braver for him to be in the presence of the biggest asshole in all of Scotland."

"Well from what I've heard she's more of an Ice Queen than an asshole," he squinted before smiling brightly. Green eyes sparkling in the low light of the bar. "Your.. partner put me up to it anyways. You know, say the bit about the ice. Sorry," he blushed but still held on to her hand firmly. "I've heard you're rather pleasant from the others. Just aloof as it were"

"EX!" Ewan and Jean exclaimed together, and the young man blinked responsively. "No sorries. Cold-hearted bitch is what some of the 6th years call me when I confiscate their illegals. Headmistress Jean Turner, but the two friends I have call me Jeanie. Drink?"

"Just one? I'll take 5. I have to catch up with the others." He hooked a thumb at the group of obnoxious men groping the female students who hung off of them as if they were celebrities. Taking what he was offered, chugging it quickly and shuddering. "Billy. Delaney it is. Well occasionally."

Jeanie and Ewan watched as he basically pounded every shot placed in front of them. Squinting off and on, as if he was trying to adjust to the ambiance. "Is it hot? It's hot in here. God I hate people. Those people. I will never fit in with the misogynists and knobs who prefer rugby and football to actually learning about the world." He pulled at the collar of his sweater before taking it off and draping it over Jeanie's chair. He wore a striped tee shirt underneath "Sorry. Sorry. I've got my nose in tech and books and maths algorithms most days. I forget how to socialize, so I really just want to blend in with the norms."

"You.. are.. fit." Ewan sputtered.

Billy snapped back to attention, his mind having drifted off to the same group Jeanie's eyes kept staring at. "What?"

"He's saying you are fucking fit, mate" Jeanie gaped.

"My body? I'm not really certain about that. I'm rather spindly wouldn't you say?” he shrugged while his cheeks flushed profusely. "My arms? Is it my arms? I swim. Clears my head from all the clutter." He was rambling now.

Jeanie and Ewan started laughing. "Relax! we're taking the piss, love. Your every move is being scrutinized. Now why abouts did Dr Purves send you over here? Surely he has fucking with me on his mind. Not unusual, humiliation has always been the name of the game."

Billy made a gesture that resembled adjusting non-existent glasses. He immediately dropped his hand and pulled a tenner out of his pocket. "To melt the ice, Gordon said. He gave me ten quid to hit on you."

"One of his students. What a lovely parting gift. I guess you're worth the loss of the house and the car," Jeanie stood back slightly to properly size him up.

Billy bit the entirety of his bottom lip, furrowing his brows, "I reckon you're worth more than a tenner to sleep with."

Jeanie blinked a few times, head tilted to the side to make sure she heard correctly. "SEX?!" she laughed, unable to help herself. "I don't exactly know what all of this," she waved her hand down his body, "would be doing even in the vicinity of sleeping with this," pointing to her own.

Confusion came over his face, "Am I supposed to be.. Is there something wrong with you that I don't notice? I, I can be kind of oblivious to loads. I think, really, Gordon goaded me into coming over here for my benefit as much as his amusement. I don't have too much experience, but you seem quite lovely you know. Your hair is," brows furrowed again but in thought, "Nicely red in this lighting. Reminds me of my friend from Ireland. Hannah."

Jeanie pinched the bridge of her nose as Ewan audibly guffawed from beside her. "Saints preserve us," the Scotsman said between gasps for air. "Donnae if you are taking the piss now, bloke, or are you really this bad at pulling birds."

Billy grimaced, the entirety of his face beet red. "Honestly, I never make it this far. I guess they usually pull me and I let them?" He started to fan his face, "seriously,,how fucking hot do you keep this pub?" His forehead bent forward to rest on the metal and wood counter of the bar.

Ewan covered his mouth and ruffled the curly head in front of him. "What a wee babby, Dr Purves sent into the lion's den. You just drank half a bottle of my best whiskey and mortified yourself in front of my favorite woman in this whole country. Maybe you ought to drink some water and have a sit for a few. We'll give you something to take to the bell-end in the back."

Jeanie and Ewan's eyes met, and she bit back a smile before leaning over to wrap an arm around her husband's latest protege. "Oh Ewan, I don't think it should be only a story. Why not give the evil genius a bit of a show. Right now he can see Mr Delaney is headed towards a spectacular crash. Im embarrassed. Mr Delaney's embarrassed. You're without very expensive whiskey. Gordon will never let anyone live this down for the semester."

She put her mouth near Billy's ear, "Ten quid is worth SOMETHING. Don't you think? Just look at me." He obliged quicker than she expected. Emerald eyes gazed upwards at her while the heart banged wildly in her chest. "What comes next?"

"I reckon I ought to put my arm on your waist. Right?" his voice now low in her ear and a hand slipped around her hips to draw her as close as possible.

No further guidance was needed as the liquid courage kicked in. Billy stood up and took Jeanie's face in his large hands before he drew her into a rather passionate kiss. Hers instinctively buried in his hair, their tongues dancing as the thought he hustled her entered the back of her mind. How was it that just a few minutes ago he looked ready to vomit at the thought of trying to come on to anyone, not just her. Now he was kissing her like they were Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. Jeanie’s back slightly arched as Billy dominated her personal space with his height, a hand dangerously on the curve of her backside.

Ewan held his own face, eyebrows lost in his bangs as he watched the two of them go at it for well, he lost time. Glancing up he noticed just about everyone else in the pub was watching too. Gordon positively green with envy and turning purple with anger. Ewan saw him lean to a colleague and mouth, "That wasn't the fucking deal."

"Job done you two," he cleared his throat and practically shouted to break them up.

Jeanie's mouth was cold as it kissed the air. Billy had stumbled backwards a bit, mouth turned down ever slightly in a whoops motion. He walked, swayed really and floated by every single patron, including the group of men he came in with earlier. Fingers pulled at his bottom lip before he passed a devilish grin over his shoulder in Gordon's direction.

Jeanie and Ewan gobsmacked, but pleasantly amused, looked at one another. Mischief in their eyes as Jeanie noticed Billy's sweater draped over the bar. "Mr Balderston, I think I have a grad student to visit this week. It seems Mr Delaney might need his sweater because the Scottish nights get awfully cold."

Orientation came and went, and the students seemed to settle in quicker than normal. Quite possibly because this was the lowest attendance in the school’s 150 year history. They had been in danger of shut down, but Jeanie was informed that first Monday by the Board of Directors that an anonymous group of donors had decided, against their wishes, to purchase the school. Even if no students came back the following school year, or they were down to only 15 or 10 or 5, Saint Fergus would remain open for unknown reasons.

To say she was relieved was an understatement for Jeanie. Much needed repairs were being made, and someone had come to put together a state of the art security system. Which really confused the faculty and dwindling staff. Who would steal anything from this junk heap? Even their books were falling apart. Except they weren’t.

By the end of the first week, the girls in their dormitories and in the hallways were abuzz with brand new Literature and Maths books. They were suddenly interested in Oscar Wilde and Pythagoras. Jeanie watched as three 4th years sat in the windowsill and audibly cracked open their copies of “The Happy Prince,” stars in their eyes.

“Have you ever seen anyone as good looking as Dr McNamara? Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll pay attention to anything else but that voice,” she held her book against her chest.

“Oh c’mon Siobhan. It’s all about the eyes. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like them. Proper green. If he sticks around, I’ll tell Daddy to talk to all of his barrister friends. Get them to enroll their kids here next year.”

The third girl was clearly in a daydream out the window, “All I heard today was blah blah blah ‘important in oratory history of Ireland’ blah blah. Lemme tell you, he can give me an oral exam any day.”

Jeanie cleared her throat and the students jumped nearly a mile high. “It would do you girls a kindness not to sexually harass our newest teacher at Saint Fergus.” The smallest hint of a smile on her lips. “Honestly, how is it that I'm headmistress here and have no bloody clue who this mysterious Dr McNamara is?”

“Well rumor has it, Miss, that he bought the school. Dr Purves hired him for a project at the uni, and he asked to be right in the thick of the school.” Siobhan shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh he’s installing the security system and having a new science laboratory built,” the daydreaming girl chimed in.

“I thought it was a grad student that was teaching here this semester? Have any of you heard the name Billy Delaney? I’ve been looking for him the last week or so, but I can't find him in Aberdeen housing. I’d like to return his sweater.” Jeanie’s face flushed pink, and the girls all cast a knowing grin in her direction.

“Has Miss got a crush herself?” Siobhan teased. “There’s no student teachers this year, but did you say Billy Delaney?”

“Yes. Does that name sound familiar to you too?”

The girls stood and handed Jeanie paperback books one by one. A stack of them, young adult novels that had grown incredibly popular the last few years. A stone wall with a glowing green and gold light graced the cover. “A Green Pool of Light: Emerald City to Oz Book 1” blazed across the top in that standard stereotyped font that represented all things Irish. The daydreaming girl, Aila Jeanie would come to find out, opened her copy and ran a finger down the page. “Yeah, he’s like a gender bent Hermione in these books.”

Jeanie frowned and flipped through the pages. The girls all started to laugh, not mean-hearted but in the way kids do at adults when they become lost in the world of anyone under 20. “That’s Dr McNamara, Miss Turner, and he’s living in the Boys Dorms.”

Jeanie blinked a few times, too many times in disbelief. The girls dissolved into hysterics and headed off to their next set of classes. Things maybe just got a bit easier but harder at the same time.

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

Jeanie stared incredulously at herself in the mirror. When exactly was the last time she showed up to any man’s room wearing only a coat and her underwear? Or well, a sweater in this case. She waited until the school was dark and quiet, she couldn’t risk one of the students seeing her dressed this way. On her way to do a dance of seduction. No, that’s humiliating. This was all humiliating.

What in the hell am I even doing? She thought. But it was too late, her legs carried her into the halls and across the floors and up into the West Wing where the boys slept. Tip-toeing quick and stealthy to the only source of light on this side of the school.

Jeanie took a deep breath and knocked on the open door. His back was to her, sitting with one foot up on the chair, a knee drawn up to his chest in the most awkward of positions. His dark head was bent over an abundance of little digital boxes spread across a desk that he tinkered with under a magnifying glass. Several computers and laptops spread around the room running codes attached to various projects simultaneously. Lost in his work, he ignored her.

Sighing heavily, Jeanie knocked louder this time. She raised one hand up the door frame, leaning in the most tempting pose she could muster at 11pm on a Thursday. His head popped up, and he only glanced over his shoulder in her direction before going back to his work.

“Well took ye long enough to find me, Miss Turner. Wanna see what I’ve put together for the school?” he queried without paying any attention to her attire.

Jeanie felt the bile rise in her throat. How in the hell was she ever going to feel better about herself when this man wouldn’t even acknowledge her? Was it too late to just slip back down in the shadows and melt away like she never existed? Still she took a breath and made her way to the desk and stopped directly behind him. She bent forward over his shoulder, her hair brushed against his face and neck. There was a nearly inaudible hitch in his breathing as she picked up one of the boxes. Did she make him nervous? Good, she thought and chewed her lip to prevent a smirk sneaking through.

“Well Mr Delaney. Or is it McNamara?” She studied the box carefully and poked at it with her nail.

“Doctor” he interjected huskily. He was nervous. “I’ve got a PhD,” he corrected.

“Are you even old enough for a doctorate?!” she retorted.

“I’m 24, thank you very much. I suppose that’s quite young to have several PhDs, but I don’t really keep track. If it makes you feel better, I'm also a chef. Cooking is just science after all,” he said almost dismissively. “Oh, That is L.I.S.A. you’re holding. Large-scale Interface Security Application.”

Jeanie snorted; she couldn't help it. “Do you mean an alarm system?”

“No it’s a specified security application that only I know how to program and,” he caught himself. “Yes. It’s an alarm system.” He rolled his eyes and gently took the machine back from her and placed it amongst the others.

“If you're working with Gordon on some kind of secret project, why are you teaching Literature?” Jeanie launched into everything without really meaning to. “You know Dr Delaney or whoever the hell you are, several of the girls brought to my attention that there’s a character in those young adult novels written by Hannah O'Flaherty. “A Pool of Green Light?” They are quite popular with our 1st-4th years. You're Billy Delaney aren't you? That’s why you gave that name in the pub the other night instead of your real name. That being Cormac McNamara, am I correct?” She placed her hands on hips hidden in the mass of wool and cable knit.

"Delaney is part of my last name. Hyphenated.” once again correcting the headmistress.

"Don't see much of that in men"

"Well it and my brain are about all my parents left me,” he moved to face his chair towards Jeanie and abandon his project.

"Well I bet they're proud of you, Cormac. Or Billy. Whatever.” she waved her hand dismissively. “You lot discovered.. what's it called?"

"Dimensional Dark Matter Transport with the possibility of Inter and Temporal"

"I mean, Portals. Or to put it in tv nerd terms: Beam me up Scotty"

"Precisely!” Cormac exclaimed and stood up excitedly. “And your ex-boyfriend-"

"Husband"

“Yes, husband. Well couldn't have been good at it if he's your ex.” He bit a finger absently, staring off towards the ceiling. Then snapped back to attention quickly, “Well he wants to find a way to make it.. Portable. Not just in plotted locations around the globe. And my business partners, em Hannah and Brett if you will, would like it privatized. Dr Purves, he wants the highest bidder."

"Military?” Jeanie blanched at the thought. Then her voice drifted off, “So the books ARE real.. You three are real. Hannah hid the stories in plain sight for the entire world to discover" And for the first time, she noticed a framed photo on the vast desk. A trio of happy young people: red-headed girl, pretty with large blue eyes. A floppy haired, tan surfer type. And a tall, lanky boy with oval glasses and severely parted hair starting to curl. Jeanie took the frame and traced her fingertip along the glass. “Sarah, Zack and Billy. This is like finding out Harry, Ron and Hermione are living, breathing people. And here you are, in my school.”

"I could show you if you want but.. Miss Turner, why are you only in a sweater?" Cormac stepped back and lifted his glasses and put them back down. He took them off hurriedly as if he was embarrassed to be wearing them. Turning once more to face her "Is.. Is that MY sweater? You're only in. Jeanie, Where are your pants?"

"Well I planned on seducing you Mr.."

"Doctor" -

Jeanie sighed as if she had been defeated, "DOCTOR Delaney-McNamara"

"Well Ive mucked that up I suppose,” a deep crimson set across his ears.

" I mean you can have your sweater back,” Jeanie arched an eyebrow seductively. Pulling the sweater over her head to reveal only a pair of her nicest black panties and bra underneath. Nothing else.

"Thank you it's quite my favorite-" Cormac’s eyes widened when he noticed the headmistress in front of him wearing nothing but lingerie. He squinted briefly while scratching his head. “Oh.. Jeanie. That’s..” his voice drifted off lost in shock.

Ignoring the embarrassment growing in her chest, Jeanie crossed her arms over her chest. “Why in the hell did you take your glasses off?”

“Oh, em.. Hannah always tells me I’m far more attractive without them.” he shrugged.

“Just like how Clark Kent is only slightly, by a molecule,” Jeanie pinched her fingers together, “less sexy than Superman with his glasses"

"But his glasses are fake,” Cormac ignored the obvious joke. “Right now I can just see shapes. Lovely, curved shapes! but only shapes." waving a hand in her general direction again.

Jeanie sat down on his bed without the sweater, to protect her now she just decided to go with her original plan. She crossed her long legs and leaned back with one hand back on the mattress. "Ok give us a look with the glasses on, Delaney.. Mcnamara?" This was frustrating.

"No, I reckon I'll have the kids call me Cormac" his hands on thin hips as he glanced upwards in thought

"Yes, erase that line of authority between yourself and 11-15 year olds. Don't underestimate them, Billy. Or Cormac. Or whatever. You are probably the smartest professor Saint Fergus has ever had, but you’re handsome. My girls will eat you alive"

"I wouldn't go that far!" he was exasperated for some reason.

"You have five PhDs and can’t even legally rent a car in America yet," Jeanie pointed out.

Cormac waved her off dismissively. “No! Not the smart or genius part. That is true,” he agreed without pretension. “It’s the handsome part,” he rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Look McNamara, I can’t tell if you’re being humble or an asshole. Your constant squinting and inflamed cheeks are ruining my perception.”

"Inflamed.." he touched his face "It's rather distracting. You in your. I may realize now that's your intent. I'm not really NEW to this, uh women coming on to me. It's just not always quite so forward?"

"Had I known you were a doctor of Quantum Mechanics, my approach would be a little less intense. 10 quid or not, you were the one kissing me last night." Jeanie got up off the bed "Ill go, but can I take your sweater with me? The students don't need to see this"

"Oh, em do ya have to? You're already here, and I'm sure quite lovely to look at."

"Cormac put your glasses on"

"Really?" he was adorably confused "I would have to take them off if we-"

"Have sex?"

"I didn't mean to imply- I've never really-" he nervously put his glasses back on. Then started fiddling with his hands and chewing on one.

"No fucking way!” Jeanie sat up quickly “But you're-"

"Oh please don't say hot."

"Well-travelled?"

"I am not completely virginal, I'll have ye know! I've done tings. SEXY tings. I've put my mouth and fingers in places on a woman. I'm just picky about where I’d put my penis."

Jeanie’s amused now, she can’t help it. An eyebrow raised and a laugh ready to escape because he's pacing around and gesticulating wildly now. "Are.. are you getting more Irish?"

"MAYBE I AM!" he shouted louder than he meant to, then unexpectedly pulled his shirt over his head.

Jeanie laughed at the absurdity now. "Cormac. Or Billy, whatever you are more comfortable with." She kneeled on the bed coming to the edge of it. "We don't have to do this. I'm not asking you to justify your virginity; that your business. It’s a patriarchal construct anyways to make us feel like we have to engage in sexual activity. Then when we do, we’re trash. It’s a no-win situation for anyone. I LIKE you. We have all school year to get to know one another better."

“I think Dr Delaney-McNamara, but Cormac works just fine for you” his tone all at once softer and deeper.

There was a weird electricity in the air, which very well could have been the obscene amount of tech equipment in the small dorm room. It could have also been that the atmosphere switched so fast from mortification to that moment your body knows something is going to happen. Jeanie’s head began to swim when she realized the young man in front of her was unbuttoning his jeans to step out of them.

“Bloody hell...” was all she could utter before he wrapped her up in his arms.

Jeanie’s hand on Cormac’s hip and the other tangled in his hair as they found themselves in another kiss. Mouths dancing together. She sat back and pulled him down so that he was laying completely on top of her now. His skin was hot almost like a sunburn. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Jeanie thought maybe a literal electricity had settled in him from using the portals so often all these years. Their tongues pushed back and forth, she realized his body began to feel similar to one of those static glass balls. The kind you press your hand against and every single hair on your body raises? It was strange and exhilarating and comical all at once.

The thought was fleeting though because Cormac’s lips made its way down Jeanie’s neck. The breath caught in her throat as he bit softly before trailing to her chest. His large hand gripped the flesh of her hip, snaking it around to grab at her backside before settling it between her thighs. The other struggled to unhook her bra while in their current position, his annoyance eliciting a giggle.

Managing to roll them so that she was on top now, Jeanie deftly reached behind herself to finish the job. Her breasts free, Cormac took one in his mouth. His tongue was warm against her skin as he began to suck and lick at a nipple and the flesh around it. Alternating between each hungrily, hand still lost in between her thighs. A finger began to trace the fabric of her panties.

Audible gasp now, as Jeanie fumbled to reciprocate any way she could. Kissing his forehead? or rocking her hips against his hand, she began to float outside of her body. What was she doing? Trying to feel wanted after all of this time? Maybe give the other adults something to gossip about over the weekend. Attractive new professor, the benefactor of Saint Fergus, fucking the boss his first week in. Jeanie was his boss, but also his subordinate? Because Cormac, with Brett and Hannah, owned her livelihood now.

“What a fine mess we’re in, Delaney,” she managed amongst the new spate of kisses.

Ignoring Jeanie’s frank statement, Cormac took to nibbling her throat again. Exchanging now for harder bites, just enough to let her know he had the upper hand. Fingers deftly pumping rhythmically with the pulsating of her body. He found that part of her with ease. The button Gordon never could without neon arrows.

“I walked through an alien portal at sixteen and made one of the greatest scientific discoveries none of us can talk about,” That Irish lilt heavy in her ear. “A fine mess has been the last decade of my life, Ms. Turner.”

There was almost a reckless abandon as Jeanie unexpectedly came. She cried out; it echoed off the dorm walls briefly before Cormac clamped a hand over her mouth. Their eyes both wide before they lost themselves in a fit of giggles.

Lying beside each other now on the bed, Jeanie felt self-conscious while Cormac absently twirled a finger in her mass of red hair. She felt his green eyes staring as she traced the infinity symbol with the tip of a nail on his chest. Their breathing patterns quickly marched in time together.

“Not sure why I have a gut feeling your timidity was a fucking game,” Jeanie spoke without a hint of anger. More like curiosity.

“Only just a little. I am far more capable of handling people in small doses. There's a certain anxiety hanging around the average university student. I finished undergrad in a year and graduate school in another. Never really fit in with most people my age. I thrived in a boarding college like this one. Never more than 15 children a class. Miss Murphy let me do as I please because I kept mostly to myself, even when she and the others were strangely codependent on my brain.”

Cormac’s eyes still trained on Jeanie while he spoke. “I didn't mind. I DON'T mind. My tinkering and projects work bloody fantastic now!” he exclaimed with pride. Those long fingers combed through Jeanie's hair. His gaze became nostalgic, “I transferred my AI tech into the lab at Aberdeen. There's my personal version. She's asleep right now,” he chuckled, gesturing towards the wall of monitors.

Jeanie grimaced, “She?!”

“Oh yes! SILVIA! I suppose she'll become LISA’s big sister.”

“You invented a primitive android.” her response was incredulous.

“No no. SILVIA was a lie detector I installed artificial intelligence in to play ch-..” Cormac caught himself. For the hundredth time that evening, “I suppose. Yes,” he tapped a finger against the soft dimple in his cheek.

“You suppose!” Jeanie reeled with laughter once more.

Cormac’s face flushed pink, “You know what I did to you was just basic anatomy that’s easily taught by reading a damn book. I reckon you'd be interested in what else reading has taught me about a woman's body.”

And so it began.

#robert sheehan #billy delaney #me and mrs jones #fluff #steamy?#cormac mcnamara #robert sheehan character fic

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illicitivywp · 3 years

Text

mal de vivre.

The morning that Harry wakes up and you're not sleeping peacefully beside him is the worst of his entire life.

He can sense that you're not there. The air still circulates whiffs of your caramel shampoo and the breeze of your automatic fan that you always insist on leaving on all night still whirs leisurely and tickles the back of his neck.

Regardless, the room is vacant. He doesn't have to open his eyes to know that much.

For now, he remains entirely numb. Immune to the flooding sobs and intolerable agony and festering anger, he supposes it's in his best interest to stay like that for a while.

For a few days, at least. Until he can fully process your absence. He's not certain how long it takes the average person to wholly recognise an entire chunk of themselves missing, but he figures he's already suffered enough.

Surely, the universe isn't that cruel.

Your love is delightedly grand, and with its sudden unavailability, he feels so dejectedly vague.

He's clearly not perceiving time correctly, perhaps it's his distant concentration or maybe even his body's method of rejecting life and the wretched torture of its innate malice.

A few times, he's experienced sleep paralysis. The first, horrifying occasion is long-forgotten, when he was seven or so - it happened only after staying up until one in the morning to watch a horror movie that he'd been specifically warned not to watch and a towering vacuum of danger stood solid as stone at the end of his bed.

If it weren't for his fingertips subconsciously tracing featherlight scribes of your name on his forearm, he might reasonably assume he's haunted with the condition once again.

A clattering of paws on hard floorboards injects a little more reality into his thoughts, and he still can't bear, physically, to turn over and greet the sweet puppy you'd snuck home and surprised him with upon his arrival home from work around a year ago, knowing that his acceptance of a familiarly-shaped void is waiting just inches away.

Eventually, and after another chaotic scramble of claws in need of a cut, Chi is bouncing enthusiastically at his side and attempting an ambitious leap onto the mattress. She fails theatrically, landing in a resounding thud on her back and launching back to her feet, completely unaware of her owner's awaiting grief.

Masking his greatest fears with scooping a palm beneath Chi's belly and hauling her upwards to nestle into his chest, the reposition forces him to lay on his back (she's always detested laying on her side, especially when smothered with adoring cuddles) and, like the coward he truly is, his eyes focus adamantly on a random spot of the pale ceiling. With every minute shuffle, it becomes more and more achingly apparent that you're really not here.

And if everything runs correctly, you'll squirm and giggle graciously at his waking before returning his kiss, to his lips, this time, and he'll suggest applying a little moisturiser, like he always does, and you'll love him like you should.

When his eyelids snap open and his head curves breezily to your claimed side of the bed, he's somewhat unsurprised to confirm that his life truly has transformed to a dreadful bundle of tragedy. In your imposing place, is a neatly-made bed and an envelope.

A single, white envelope, stained by the sweet, flowing cursive that could flow only from your touch.

Chi leaps naturally to the spectacle, sniffing curiously at the letter and nudging it around a little, whilst Harry is so unexplainably pained that he's unable to move. Swallowing thickly, he's not certain word-for-word what lies in the confines of this envelope, but he does know it'll confirm your leaving him, and for some strange reason, he's relieved you left an explanation, at least.

A souvenir of you to hang onto forever, along with the millions of other items and memories of yours in his possession.

Carefully removing it from Chi's vicinity and replacing the object of her attention with a random squeaky toy that he'd discovered burrowed beneath his bed a few nights ago, he traces your exquisite handwriting with his fingertip and reads along with inaudible movements of his mouth; For Harry, mon amour.

In that moment, he realises profoundly that he'll never get to request hearing you say different words in your accent again.

The amount of times he implored relentlessly to hear je t'aime and have it accompanied with an endearing kiss is infinite.

Harry, my love,

I'm so incredibly sorry that I couldn't handle the pain.

Seeing your face cures any anguish I feel, but not this time.

I really, really tried; I know you did, too. I wanted it to work out, I prayed every day that our suffering would magically end and we could return to our love, I hoped that one day I would wake and cuddle you tightly and describe this awful nightmare I'd had.

Possibly, I may write to you in the future; please, don't try to contact me, it won't work and you know it's for the best. My family and close friends know where I am, where I will be, and they also know not to tell you if you ask.

I wish I could kiss all of your heartache away and protect you from all evil in this world, but I feel my presence is detrimental to your recovery.

My love for you is never-ending. Please be okay.

Forgive me and love someone else like you loved me. Let someone else love you like I loved you. Tellement, tellement.

Forever, I'll think of you and how unbelievably content I felt waking up next to you every day for seven-hundred and eighty (? - I'm estimating) mornings straight.

I will never, ever leave our love behind, and I adore you more than I can express. Your strength and resilience are admirable, and you are truly the best thing to ever happen to me.

Mon bébé, I miss you terribly.

Toujours, ton amour.

Chi tugs eagerly on her lead at the sight of the familiar entrance to her home, Harry in tow right behind. Sludgy snow muddies his shoes and soaks the hem of his jeans. His puppy's paws are undoubtedly drenched, too, but her fur is protected valiantly by her favourite jacket. He'd purchased it from a specialist store in France a year prior, and, since surprising her with the present upon his shared return, it'd become her primary option during the winter months.

Retrieving a reasonable pile of letters from his designated section, a rapid flick through displays bills, scams and all of the usual junk he usually receives. He offers his elderly neighbour a polite smile and holds open the door with his knee to construct a clear path for her exit.

He grimaces slightly at the teeth-shaped arc of damp dents into his mail - he hadn't particularly considered the repercussions of carrying it that way - and unclips Chi's lead, allowing her to run rampage through his airy apartment. Absently dropping his keys into its small dish of residence and taking a closer inspection at his post to infiltrate any wrong addresses or scams, he selects an apple from his fruit bowl and steals one firm chunk before noticing something peculiar.

Groomed eyebrows knitting together in confusion, he plucks one particular letter from the bunch and stacks it to the top. Perplexed by the sorely familiar curve of the writing scrawled on the front, his head shakes in denial - you wouldn't have, surely.

Discarding of all other mail on his kitchen counter, he's puzzled beyond belief; you'd left with no verbal warning and a letter that, admittedly, had been the source of several bouts of severe depression and, in spite of its awful affects, read dutifully every single day since your disappearance.

Rashly, he wishes you hadn't changed your phone number and email address shortly before leaving so he could possibly contact you regarding this mystery. However, he knows just as well as you clearly foresaw; his topic of discussion wouldn't be only the letter.

Tearing open the corner cautiously, he's incredibly delicate with checking inside the envelope once open to ensure it contains only his presumed note. Reviewing the front with a scouring gaze of disbelief, it really, truly has come from you.

He can't remember how many times he read each postcard that you'd gifted him with at the very beginning of your relationship. You'd recently made the permanent move from France to England, and, in a new country with limited knowledge of the native language, Harry had unintentionally become your beacon of comfort here.

With his fluent French and English, he was the perfect contender for kindly correcting your terminology and educating you on the essential etiquettes of Britain. Within weeks, however, your sweet smile had changed from an enjoyable sight during your frequent coffee shop meetings to something he craved.

He misses reading your silly, awful puns based around your home country, especially his favourite. A laughably unfunny joke paired with a matching scribble of the two of you; what do french fries do when they meet? They ketchup!

Harry,

I feel awful for waiting so long to speak to you again.

Your voice and your hugs. I've imagined them every single day.

I miss my Chi. How is she? I hope she's not missing her maman. Give her a kiss from me.

And the biggest kiss to yourself, because you deserve it, mon tout.

I'm inexplicably sorry for leaving so abruptly; I just couldn't take much more. The reminders were too much. Seeing your inconsolable pain every day was too much.

I'm so, so selfish, but I still believe allowing you to heal without my troubles was the best and easiest path for both of us.

I'm sure you noticed, but I may have stolen one of our pictures. It was your favourite, and that's why I had to choose that one, I suppose. Horrible, again.

I miss your dimples (and irritating you by poking them all the time). I miss your lips, they were so soft. No wonder you always bossed me around with the lip balm - I have my own now, I take it everywhere with me.

It smells like caramel.

Most of all, I miss your love. I've never known someone to love like you do. You were, are, and always will be, incredible.

Have you found someone to love yet?

Do you still think about me? If yes, please don't.

It's not fair of me to appear out of nowhere like this and not allow you a chance to reply. If you wish, post your letter to my maman's house - I'm not there, just to crush any other hope you have, but I'll receive it.

I'll be sorry forever, mon amour.

Sois gentil avec toi-même.

Câlins pour toujours, your baby.

Auriele,

I'm so thankful you decided to reach out again. I've missed you. Tellement, tellement.

Chi is brilliant, still eating everything and constantly in need of a haircut. She does miss you.

My hurt is still prevalent, I've accepted that it always will be. I truly don't believe it can be fixed again, but I'm still trying.

I spent the two weeks after your leaving searching for every single picture in existence of us. I cried so many times, I wish I could tell you that I'm wholly recovered and that you're fully forgiven, but I can't.

I think I counted them all. It's either three-hundred and seventy-seven or one-thousand, one-hundred and two (I have two sticky notes labelled pictures, I'm not sure which is correct.)

No one could ever love me like you do, tu es le meilleur.

I suppose that answers both of your questions.

Thank you for the chance to respond. I was incredibly confused when I received your thoughtful letter. I'm assuming by this one's destination being your maman's house, you're in France? You don't have to answer that. I would understand.

Mon bébé chéri, je t'aime.

Harry x

Harry,

It was the least I could do. I hurt you doubly and you never deserved that.

Tell her I love her. Buy her an ice cream for me (note the two dollars also enclosed in this envelope!)

There aren't enough apologies in the world to properly cover the extent of my mistakes, but I'll continue gathering as many as I can. And send them straight to you.

I also wish you could truthfully claim that you're okay, and I hope, with time, that you will be. It's all you ever deserved, mon chéri. You don't ever have to forgive me. I understand entirely if you hate me.

I wouldn't be surprised if those numbers were both low counts. I loved your face, as superficial as it sounds, but it truly was prettier than anything, and my favourite thing was always surrounding myself with it. Aussi longtemps que je pouvais.

My baby, I only tried my hardest to love you, and I sincerely hope I haven't ruined your idea of love so much that I'm your standard. Please, travel, find people to connect with, fall in love with a place, if not a person.

I bet Chi would love Spain. Australia, maybe? Thailand? Your choice entirely. You always were smarter than me (i.e. I left you - doesn't get much dumber.)

I am in France, feel free to ask any question you want about my current life if you decide to write back - you really don't have to. It's okay. You're still perfect.

Just not my address. It's so selfish of me to hide away from you when you're the one who deserves closure, but I'm not ready to share that information. Again, I'm sorry, and I hope you understand.

Tu me manques. Tu me manques ma maman et mon père. Tu me manques au cœur.

All my love, Auriele x

Every day, his thoughts are plagued with ideas of how to write his next letter. Your previous few communications ran smoothly; you seem incredibly apologetic and, as much as he would've gladly ignored the past tense use of 'love' in your most recent letter, he can't help but realise the difference from your first each time he reads it.

He's not certain why his first letter practically poured from his pen and before he knew it, it was sealed, posted and received. This time, however, he can't even construct a way to greet you.

Has distance and time really weakened your connection that much? His favourite childhood Disney movies would be ashamed.

The heartache you've endured together is insufferable, the bitterness remaining fresh and the misery continuing to roll onwards with him, and yet, you're both still alive. Perhaps, he should be a little more thankful.

He's tested out various support groups over the past few months; they appear to help in the moment, but once he returns home to a completely empty house, - aside from Chi - he realises all of his progress to be entirely fake.

How can he realistically recover from his insurmountable loss in solitude?

An apartment which used to breathe vibrant life and excitement for the future, diminished to nothing but silence.

He might as well have lost his house, too. Every second he spends there, surrounded by reminders of his grief, is draining. Of course, if he were a millionaire, he would've discovered a lovely, one bed flat with wide, open floors and windows. If he were a millionaire, though, maybe none of this agony would've ever happened.

He could’ve fixed it.

Regardless, he didn't, and now he returns home every single day, monotonous and finding solace only in rereading your letters and running through his local park with Chi, no matter the weather.

Sometimes, he hears the faint echo of your melodious voice ringing in his ear; mon doux bébé. For a moment, he believes you may be talking to him, but with a resounding giggle of contentment, you never were.

Within a month, he lost both of his sweet baby girls, and the pain is simply too much to comprehend.

Elle, mon cœur,

Firstly, I apologize for my late reply. This letter was, for some reason, incredibly difficult to write.

You hurt me never. Life hurt me, and it hurt you, too, and I'm sorry it's so cruel.

Chi adored her ice cream - vanilla, your favourite - and said thanks! (complimentary picture attached, for you).

Sympathy and apologies aren't a cure. I've received enough of them to know. I hope you have, too. We might not accept it and it might not heal our pain, but it is nice to know you have people by your side.

Mon amour, I would/could never come close to hatred for you. You are my entire heart, and you own everything within it.

I hope, one day, I can forgive you. I hope you can forgive me. We both made mistakes. We're both accountable, and so is fate. Unfortunately, it wasn't on our side, and we have to welcome that.

Your face is certainly Top Five list of physical attributes, which goes as followed:

1. your lips. I know I complained about them being dry all the time, but I miss them, still.

2. your eyes. Somewhere between the ocean and a cottage filled with flowers, they were paradise.

3. your thighs. I am a man - a broken one, but a man nonetheless - and they are certainly the most family-friendly feature I could think of.

4. your smile. Even on my darkest days, your smile was heaven. I hope you're smiling right now. I wish I could see it.

5. your face? All of the above and everything else. Was that cheating?

I wish I could leave here. I wish I could find a small, tropic island where Chi and I can get tipsy on Virgin Mary's and surf all day, but I feel it wouldn't be fair for both of us to run.

Although, Chi would certainly have a great time in Thailand. She told me so.

Did I mention she misses you? We miss you.

I have more questions than you can imagine. This is only my second letter, however, so I suppose I'll stick to three for now, (sorry for all the lists!)

How are you? Mentally? Physically?

Have you made new friends whilst you've been out there?

Would you ever visit London again?

I miss you forever.

Ton bébé.

Harry x

Harry,

It's more tough to write my letters than you might assume. No need to apologise, I understand.

Life is shit. I thought I had accepted that. I never imagined how evil it could be.

Chi, my baby, looks so pretty. I love her haircut (number 8694743? out of infinite).

I have heard my fair share of sympathy. At first, I felt bitter. They didn't understand what I had suffered, they didn't understand the pain I felt. With time, I realised that, sometimes, sorry is all you need to hear to feel a little better. To feel like you're managing life, at least.

I wish I could believe I deserve it, but I truly don't.

My mistakes seem perpetual. I'm constantly remembering new ones. Things I could've noticed faster, signs that I should've recognised. Yours are nothing. You made no mistakes, mon amour, please believe that. As much as fate has been my least favourite higher power for the past year, I agree about welcoming our own.

I would make a list of my personal favourites of your appearance, but I'd be here all day, and I'm meeting with a friend in an hour (your second question - check).

It wasn't fair for either of us to run. I think it's turned out for the best, however.

I can imagine Chi passed out on the beach. You both deserve a holiday. Go to Scotland, or something, at least. Just away from London.

I miss you both. Much more than I can express.

I'm well. Mentally; it's a struggle, but that's just life, I suppose. Physically; my sickness stopped a while ago. I hope your headaches did, too, but I've been searching for cures for those for a long time.

Yes! I've made quite a few close friends. They all know and love you. I'll tell them you asked.

London holds far too many memories for me to bear. You're the only one I can stand. Maybe one day.

Tellement de câlins.

Auriele.

The second your letter arrives and is read fully three times over, Harry's scrambling to collect his fancy paper and ink pen, thousands of ideas about how to reply brimming in his head.

Pen to paper, however, his mind is entirely blank.

You're inching closer to addressing the subject of your pain, and so is he. So far, the only discussions you've had regarding that difficult topic have ended either in awful arguments or uncontrollable, endless crying and they all occurred before your disappearance.

Since then, you've had ten months and seventeen days shared to mature from and process the situation. Perhaps, if you were to have a conversation about it now, it would be beneficial.

Harry is aware of the solution to his strange writer's block and urges to attempt to fix your hurt, but he's not quite sure if he's ready. Physically forcing himself up from his cluttered desk, he tries not to think of the main event when changing his sloppy t-shirt and joggers to jeans and a jumper; it's February, so the wind is still well and alive but, luckily for Chi and the duration of her walks, the temperatures are beginning to rise.

His destination is barely a thirty minute leisurely stroll through the city away, and he feels shameful to admit that this is his first visit in ten and a half months. Several times, he's gathered his courage to stand on the pavement, surveying the vast area but never making it closer than the protective fences.

This time, though, he's determined to make it. And he will, with je t'aime's and sweet giggles bubbling in his ears.

Your je t'aime's and her sweet giggles.

Auriele,

Life will continue to surprise us. It may be malicious, but it's also given me you, so I guess there are a few reasons to be grateful.

I think it's more like *8694744 out of infinite, and I'm sure she'll have many more unpleasant trips to the groomers in the future.

You are handling life impeccably, considering all. You deserve showers of recognition for just being here.

No one has ever been more deserving of my love, and no one ever will.

Please, don't blame yourself entirely. Yes, there were signs. Signs that we both should've seen earlier. We knew as much as everyone else. We can't know if things would be different if we'd noticed them, because they're not.

I'm glad you're enjoying life in France. Is it peaceful? Is it too far to ask if you're living with one of your new friends? What're their names, if you don't mind my asking?

If I were to go on holiday right now, Paris would be my first choice.

I'm glad you're feeling better, I hope you continue to improve mentally in the future. I wish you nothing but true happiness.

If you're ever here, I'd be honoured to see you again.

This might surprise you. Before I wrote this letter, I went to visit her.

I haven't since we were there together.

I talked to her for hours about my life and my pain and your letters and your pain and anything I'd love to say to you if I knew how. Meline always was the best listener, no offence to you. She just understands.

I miss her. I miss you. I miss my babies.

Please, send me a picture of you (always topping lists) in your next letter. I need to see you now. I bet you're glowing.

Toujours, Harry x

Harry, mon amour,

I feel as if I should address the end of your letter first, because I certainly wasn't expecting it. I cried a lot. I'm still crying as I write this.

It feels nice to feel.

I've been so numb to it all. I know I should sob every day, think of her every single second. I don't. That may make me an awful person, but I always preferred not to lie. Especially to you. I don't think the gravity has quite hit me yet.

Back to the normal, top to bottom of your letter.

My family is a gift. My parents, you and Meline, specifically. I've never admired anyone more.

I miss Chi. Especially today, for some reason. Send more pictures of her when you next write. (I enclosed an updated picture of me in town, if you hadn't noticed! It was taken last week.)

I had concerns. Concerns that I didn't follow up on. We knew something was wrong, but we did everything we could, right? We found help. We found medicine. Why didn't it work?

How fucking cruel can life possibly be?

It's much quieter than London. The air quality is visibly better. I am, actually. My closest friends are Leon and Aline. I'm living with them!

Paris is about as good a holiday as you can get. If I'm ever near you, whatever country it happens to be in, I'll be sure to see you.

The last part of your letter. I already touched upon it but not nearly enough.

I haven't said, heard or read her name in eleven months. I miss it. I miss your voice. And her laughs. She was so, so lively and enthusiastic for life.

It's so unfair that she didn't get the chance.

And I agree; she always was a fantastic listener. I told her about our issues more than I should've.

I wish I could hear her again. Her name wasn't Meline Risette Styles for nothing. Her laughs were so pretty. I could've listened on repeat.

I did. For a year.

I miss her.

I miss you. I miss your warmth. I miss your heart and your love and your smile and everything about you.

I miss normality.

When we thought things would be okay.

We were wrong, and hindsight, that's okay, too.

We will heal eventually, I trust that life can't take much more away from me.

Tout mon amour, Auriele x

Since that day, Harry's visited Meline every Sunday without fail - it's only been three weeks, but going in the first place was an unimaginable step.

He even combined Chi's walk with the most recent, and each time, entering, staying at and emerging from the cemetery becomes easier.

The first time, he paced through the gates several times before building the bravery to even step inside without running back. His flight or fight instinct had been touchy the whole time, bias towards flight the entire time.

He just wanted to be as far away from the source of his pain as possible.

At the same time, he just wanted his daughter back. Alive and healthy.

Once he'd settled, laid on the ground like a madman next to her grave, he never wanted to leave her again. He even brought her flowers and a little teddy bear from a shop he'd passed on his hurried journey there.

It was well and truly dark by the time he even considered returning home, because he'd rather be with his sweet baby than alone at home.

Now, Chi sniffs inquisitively around at the bundles of flowers placed on surrounding graves whilst Harry converses with his dead child's grave like she was as animated and eager as he remembered.

It's a little questionable for his sanity, but extremely helpful for his own mental health. And he's trying to fix them both.

He just wishes so much that he'd pushed for more tests in the hospital. If he could, he'd reject their diagnosis and prescription of heart medication and an inhaler for when her asthma flared up.

They claimed she had a weakened respiratory system and, subsequently, her heart didn't deal well under stress, mostly due to her premature birth.

They were correct.

However, they were entirely wrong when they sent you all home with a tub of medicine and advice to lower any potential stressors around her.

Harry remembers scoffing to himself; she was one, what could possibly be stressing her that much?

Apparently, a lot of things.

Your je t'aime's and her sweet giggles.

There's truly nothing better.

Auriele,

I understand completely about any emotion feeling refreshing. For a while, I felt immune to it. I cried and I got angry, but nothing ever really set in.

I'm thankful that I can feel now and it doesn't destroy me.

You're not at all a bad person, or a bad parent. Often, I wish I could forget about her. And not just to remove the pain for a day or two. Also, I appreciate the honesty.

Important things must be talked about first. And while this paragraph isn't quite at the top of my letter, it certainly is my most admiritive.

You're so, so unbelievably beautiful. Even more so, now.

Your eyes are still paradise. That picture is stuck onto the cork board in the kitchen forever.

We did absolutely everything in our power to help our baby. As soon as we noticed an issue, we took her to the hospital. Maybe they accidentally underestimated her condition, maybe they just assumed it'd be treated with that medication.

Either way, we helped her as much as we could. And you were, are, and always will be the most incredible mother.

Meline was lucky, truly. She loved you so much.

As it turns out, life can be our greatest enemy. It's difficult to control and even harder to accept, but everything happens for a reason, I suppose.

Leon and Aline sound wonderful. I know it's not my place, but tell them I said thank you for being there for you? You don't have to.

I've never known someone deserve a full, healthy life more than our sweet girl, and it's an injustice to steal that opportunity from her at such a young age.

She would've been two next week. I'm sure you don't need reminding, but I'm still trying to handle my feelings about it. I already know her birthday is going to be the worst day since she died.

Meline Risette Styles deserves the world, as do you. Please don't be afraid to take it. You've earned it.

Her name still brings me so much joy; little honey, pleasant little laugh. It was such an apt description, in her short life.

Life can always take more, but it gives things that are so wonderful. Sois optimiste.

Tout mon amour et câlins, Harry x

wattpad:

#harry styles #letters #heartbreak #sad books #harry

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rafaelblackbird15 · 4 years

Text

"Logan couldn't breathe. Every time James took a breath, and his chest expanded, it was like he took the air directly from Logan's lungs. Just thinking about it he couldn't stop his eyes from scanning James' exposed skin, his collar bones where they jutted out from under the thin straps over his shoulders. His hands folded and tucked a little accompanying piece of pink material around his strong muscles and around his middle, Logan's eyes followed the twitching of his fingers. They were so long and James was just so damn tall. He towered over Logan even more than usual in the high heels."

" When James stepped out of the toilet cubicle, Logan couldn't breathe.

Everything he had been thinking about saying vanished instantly with a flash of pink and surprise.

It was funny, ironic, really, he'd never been very good with dates and girlfriends because the "tongue-tied" feeling all the love songs talked about never seemed to happen to him, he'd often wondered if he was just destined to overthink everything. Not for lack of trying that is, James had insisted he at least try to like people, try to he interested in *someone*, but he'd always found the books on the subject more insightful, like Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice (he never told the guys this though, only Katie, his book buddy, knew about them). Although, Camille, he had thought was different. But...

What drew his attention first was the fit. James' figure was obvious through the material, the strong lines of his sides were clear with the tightness of the dress, it followed his natural curves all the way down to his hips, where the dress branched out and got looser, rippling in soft folds of pink. If he were a woman, he'd probably be considered an hourglass figure, but he was tall and straight in some places with vivid curves in others, it really was something to look at. His shape was sharp but also extremely soft, the way James went about getting fit was aggressive, kind of like he was going to war with himself, with his demons, but his reasons for it were soft, and Logan knew from looking at his stomach that, even with the twisted pink dress his skin was soft, it showed in the parts of his body that were exposed, like his chest. He'd seen James' body countless times, most recently in the pool just last week. They had gone swimming all their lives, it came naturally to get dressed together (not in the same room, obviously, James' liked his bathroom time) and just go out and enjoy it. But somehow this was different, seeing him all done up like a woman... And yet, he wasn't a woman, but he wasn't a man either. He was somewhere in between, he was James. But he wasn't James. It was all so confusing.

It was a struggle to pull his eyes upwards when he realised he was staring at James' bare legs where he was too tall for the dress to reach below his knees, he even suited the sharp black high heels. James didn't didn't seem to notice though, pulling a face of feigned discomfort.

"I can't believe this was *your* idea" James said, staggering over to the boy's sink and glaring into the mirror. He pulled a thumb under his lips to smarten out the lipstick, making kissy faces. Somehow he'd managed to not smudge even the corners of his mouth, all the lines on his eyes were careful as well, if Logan didn't know better he'd have said "experienced", but he did know better. At least, he thought he did. It was no secret James was more feminine than usual, obsessed with his appearance to an unhealthy point, but this was a step further.

James had done all the getting dressed by himself, in the little cubicle, Logan had been grateful because no way would he have been able to put on someone's makeup. Looks like he didn't need any help though.

"What, uh, what is that supposed to mean?" He said.

It was hard to focus on something that wasn't James' dark eyes, long lashes highlighted by an underscore of subtle black eyeliner. God, he was beautiful. The lipstick suited him so goddamn much, he was just so extra, with the matching headband as well. To say Logan hadn't been expecting that transformation was putting it mildly.

James wasn't looking at him when he replied, still intent on perfecting his hair, sweeping it aside and out of his eyes, combing fingers through it like he thought it needed perfecting, how could he even think that?

Logan jumped when he spoke eventually. "Just that I mean, well" he met Logan's eye in the mirror, "I didn't think you'd even consider... This" he made a vague gesture to all of himself, dress and all.

His eyes were downcast and he smiled, a little shyly, strangely, and for just a moment, a flash, Logan saw Camille in James. When he was telling her that he couldn't be with her for awhile, that he needed time for himself to understand what he wanted, what he needed, she had looked at him with this self depreciating, and openly vulnerable look that.. had just been so uncharacteristic of her that he'd nearly blurted out "forget everything, kiss me" on the spot and forgiven her, but alas he hadn't, maybe they wouldn't be here now if he had. He couldn't find it in himself to feel about it.

If James had looked up at Logan in that moment, he knew Camille would be there, hiding behind his eyes. Or maybe it was the other way around. It was gone as fast as it had appeared and he stumbled over his words, trying to remember what the question was.

"Wha- what? Why?"

It was hard to comprehend much of anything. He felt dizzy, lost. James might have been saying something but he couldn't hear him, Logan was under water, he felt like he was a frog with its mouth stuck hanging open and waiting. Like a statue.

Something had changed. It was akin to the continents shifting into place. "

********

Just a little thing I wrote on the spot. Had these doodles lying around for a whole year, and although I've actually done something with them now my college has them locked away for art GCSE results, so I'm waiting to get them back.

I honestly love btr so much and I ship like every ship, and I'm so here for gender fluid James.

In this au, Logan isn't gay, he's bi, but he's also in love with James and this is where he realises that. The whole time the guys have been trying to set him up and it hasn't worked, this is why.

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youremeimyou · 4 years

Text

Old Friends

pairing: Jung Hoseok x reader genre: fluff, comedy, slight drama high school crush au and there’s a Hoseok vs y/n rap battle in there, somewhere word count: 6k warnings: just some passionate kissing, oh and shirtless Hoseok;)

Description: Hoseok is your high school friend that you had a different kind of relationship with. You run into him, after many years and rekindle your friendship. Then he takes you to your high school reunion and claims you as his girlfriend. But it’s only an act. Right?

A/N: EGO IS OUT!! I can’t get enough of it, or enough of J-hope. Hence, this oneshot. I gave this my all and had fun reading it back so I’m hoping it’s not shitty. Pls let me know what you think of it. Also I changed the way I write and reffered to the reader as ‘you’ for this one- idk i wanted to try it. If you guys have prefferences you can let me know. I hope you like it. Enjoy!

It's official, you hate summer. Sure.. school's out, no more chasing after professors or migraines lasting for weeks. But goddamn it it's hot and humid. It's like trying to breathe in a sauna, which you hate. Plus, the sun is like a deadly laser. Normally you love strolling through this street. Glancing at cute little stores and admiring street artists as you walk by. Not today, though. Not while feeling like all the water in your body is gonna evaporate any second.

You notice a little crowd up ahead, a half circle. And the sound of a groovy beat captures your attention. You might've stopped and joined the crowd just for the captivating music, if it wasn't for the torturous heat. In this instance you'll settle for only a glance at whatever show is going on inside that half circle.

That's until you see the street dancer there and you stop dead in your tracks. Someone is crazy enough to dance in this heat. Someone manages to look like the greatest performer alive despite the sweat covering his body and the fact that he's probably about to pass out. That someone is Jung Hoseok.

Before you can do anything else, you realize just how much better he’s become. And he was already an amazing dancer the last time you saw him. Back in high school, that is. Hobi the bubbly, cheerful dancer that dominated talent shows every year. Hobi who you occasionally helped pass chemistry. Hobi who could actually also sing, a fact only you knew about him of all the kids at your school. Because you’d spend most of your time in the music room, usually all by yourself. But one time, you caught him sitting alone and singing in there and after that, he’d visit you every so often. In return, he was the only one that knew you composed songs.

It’s been three years since graduation and your last conversation with him. But right now, he’s standing right in front of you. No, he’s dancing. The music ends in time with his final move and the mini crowd goes wild. As he catches his breath, most people leave money in his hat on the floor. You hope they’re being generous. Rightfully so, that was one hell of a performance.

You contemplate on whether you should say hi or not. The introvert in you decides you shouldn’t but before you can turn around to leave, you make eye contact with Hoseok.

“Y/N?” he asks.

“Hey, Hoseok.”

And he smiles. Despite how exhausted he must be, he gives you a whole cheekbones lifted, classic Hobi smile.

“You were amazing. But how did you not faint dancing in a weather like this?” you ask, smiling back.

“Come to think of it, I do feel like blacking out.” he says in between his panting.

You panic and go closer to him quickly. “I can take you to the hospital-”

“I’m kidding, Y/N.”

Did you maybe miss his mischevous ass? You both giggle.

“How about taking me to an icecream shop to catch up, instead? It’s been so freaking long. If you don’t have any plans, I mean.”

Your plan is going home, opening the refrigerator door and standing in front of it. So they’re skippable for an old friend.

“Let’s go before you deteriorate.”

You take him to the closest icecream shop you know and the shop has great air conditioning, thank god. Hoseok sits down and you feel as though he won’t be able to get up and order. Despite the smiley and bright facade of his, his body seems to be worn out. So, you take the liberty to order for both of you.

As you wait in line, order and wait for them to prepare it, you think about what you wanna say to Hoseok. Regardless of how much time has passed, you notice how you still get a little nervous with him around. It used to be like that in high school, too. You could never really look him in the eyes while he was speaking with you. You wouldn’t be intimidated. You’d just be kinda.. overwhelmed.

You take the cups and make your way to the table. Hoseok’s eyes light up, he seems content with your choice. He also looks better now, the cool air of the shop must’ve helped.

“What’re the odds of us meeting like this? Just on the street?” he initiates conversation.

“Well, I’m not exactly surprised to find Hope on the streets.”

“You remember my stage name?” He looks geniunely surprised.

“How can I possibly forget crowds of people going crazy, cheering J-hooope?”

That makes him shy, you think. With him averting his eyes to the ground. You’d hear those cheers often, back then. Hoseok was known as ‘J-hope’ and his act ‘Hope on the street’ was very popular. Everyone in Gwangju High would come to watch him perform, including you. It really is a bit strange how you ran into each other randomly on a street in Seoul, you think. You both had dreams of moving to Seoul as teenagers and had told each other about it. But neither of you knew if the other actually made it there. Until now.

"Did you move here right after graduation? I remember you talking about wanting to persue music here at University of Seoul." he says with his eyes on his icecream. He remembers your dream.

"Yeah, I had to get out of there. I moved here even before knowing if the university had accepted me. Thankfully, I got in. What about you? When did you come here?"

After he takes a spoon of the good stuff, he takes his eyes off from his cup and connects them with yours. It happens so suddenly that you almost blush. You're able to hold it in, though. Barely.

"I kinda wanted to wait until my work at the dance academy was done. So, after two more years at Gwangju, I finally transferred here, to National University of Arts just at the beginning of this semester."

You're glad to see him not giving up on dancing because he's so talented for it that it isn't like anything you've seen before or after you've known him. When he dances, it's like whatever music he's moving to actually finds form in him. And when he's not dancing, the way he moves around, walks, talks still somehow appears artistic.

But then, you realize you've been staring at him, lost in your train of thoughts. And he must've noticed because one corner of his mouth curves upwards a little, forming an almost smirk. This time, you can't stop your cheeks from turning red. Fuck.. What's wrong with you? It's been years since you've even seen his face. Why the hell did you just turn into a teenager, all over again?

"How's music school? Did you drop any albums I'm missing out on?" He asks and his eyes go back to his icecream. You can breathe normally again.

"I think school is always a pain in the ass. Even if it's about music." is your reply. You both laugh.

"I couldn't agree more."

Normally you have a hard time talking about yourself with others. But when it comes to Hoseok, it's different. Because that kinda used to be your relationship back in the days. Talking to each other about stuff you wouldn't with others.

"I've been working in a studio a friend of mine opened and we're working on some stuff but.. I can't seem to finish anything I start so, no. I haven't really been productive." you add with a frown. There're lots of things you don't like about yourself and being a procrastinator is one of them.

Then, a hand is placed lightly on yours that was resting on the table. It's Hoseok, holding your hand and looking at you warmly. "Nah, I'm still pretty sure we're gonna hear your stuff on the radio, soon." He looks like he geniunely believes that. All you can do is smile back in appreciation.

Time goes by as you talk about all kinds of stuff. You learn he lives at the student dorm but he's not exactly happy about it and wants to find a new place to stay. Also that he's giving dance lessons to earn some extra cash. You tell him about Yoongi, that friend of yours who owns a studio and how he's looking for someone to move in, after his flatmate moved away. You promise to have the two meet each other and see if they can become roomates.

Hoseok suggests to exchange numbers but it turns out both of you haven't changed them since high school, so you both have the other in your contacts. And you say goodbye shortly after, agreeing on hanging out again, soon.

By the time you get home, it's already evening and you're a little hesitant to open up the door and greet your roommate, Namjoon. Because you promised him that you'd watch that philosophical movie you can't remember the name of together. But you were supposed to do that about two hours ago. You decide to just go in and explain how you ran into an old friend and got held up. Namjoon'll understand, right? You go inside but see that nobody's home, so you call him.

"What's up ditcher?" is how he answers the phone and you can't blame him, really.

"I'm so sorry Joon. I wanna make it up to you but.. where are you, exactly?"

"Yoongi's."

"Okay, don't move." You hang up the phone and go straight into the apartment across the hall from yours. Yoongi has already opened the door before you can knock. You make for the living room and spot your roommate there. Just as you're about to explain, you also spot credits rolling on the tv screen and finished popcorn bowls.

"Wow, you watched Waking Day without me?" you complain. And Namjoon is quick to respond.

"It's Waking Life and yes, since you were a no-show."

"But you didn't even leave me popcorn."

"What're you saying? There's some left right here." Yoongi is the one who hands you one of the bowls.

"There are literally only three kernels here."

"Well, that's what ditchers get." Yoongi is just as merciless as Namjoon.

"But what if something happened to me on my way back-" you try the approach of pulling on their heartstrings but both of them whip their necks back and look at you in extreme worry, so you decide not to mess around. "Okay, okay. I encountered an old friend and lost track of time catching up. But maybe we can watch another movie and I'll make the popcorn, huh?" You wear a guilty grin on your face.

"Nope. You should take a seat and tell me about this friend that made you ditch me."

You sit down in between the guys on the couch, but you're facing Namjoon and telling him about Hoseok. Yoongi only sees your back and he's just so done with you, as always.

"You guys have a house exactly symmetrical to mine across the hall. Why the hell are you always here? I know it's not to see me, you're not even looking at me." It's a mix between ranting and whining. Both you and Namjoon know he's doing it to get attention.

"Because your couch is comfier." says Namjoon.

"And you have a piano." you add.

"You have a keyboard!"

"My keyboard is no upright piano."

Yoongi gives up with a huff. But you attack him with tickles until he gives in and giggles, all the while trying to get rid of your hands.

"By the way Yoongs, you're still looking for a roommate, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"The friend of mine from Gwangju I was catching up with, Hoseok, is looking for a new place. I want to introduce you guys."

"Sure. What can you tell me about him?"

You pause because there're lots of things you can say about him. But those are all about the high school Hoseok. You wonder how many of them changed and how many stayed the same. You're sure of some things, though.

"I can tell you that he's a great guy and a dedicated artist, a dancer. Also he's funny and a mood maker."

"Alright. You should bring him over."

"Great! I will."

You wake up to your phone buzzing repeatedly. First thing you do is check the time and your clock on the wall is striking 11:30 in the morning. You overslept, great. It makes sense after you convinced Namjoon to binge watch Death Note before going to bed. But you ended up sleeping on the couch. The fact that you're in your bed right now means Namjoon carried you there.

3 unread messages from Hoseok.

-Morning, Y/N.

-Are you free today?

-I wanna treat you to some coffee.

It's been three to four days since the time you ran into Hoseok and you've been meaning to reach out to him to hang out but he just beat you to it. You thank the god for his extrovertedness.

-I'm taking care of some stuff in the studio today.

-But you can visit me there and if I'm finished quickly we can even hang out later, too.

-If you'd like, of course.

You press send and for some stupid reason your heart races a little fast. Were you being too forward? He just said coffee, maybe he meant a quick get together. You just asked him to wait for you in a studio, possibly for a couple of hours.

Two more buzzing.

-Sure! I'll make sure to help out so you can finish faster.

-Text me the time and the adress when you can.

You sigh in relief. But now it's time to be nervous about how you'll be alone with him there for a long while. Not that it makes you uncomfortable. You just feel that overwhelming feeling of him being around returning. You hope to at least not act like an idiot.

You make your way to the studio and text Hoseok the location, saying he could drop by whenever he'd like. Yoongi told you to listen to some demos for him but you leave that for last. For now, you're setting up some instruments and tuning them up for the band arranged to record tomorrow. But the bell rings and you sprint to answer the door.

"Hi!" you greet him.

"Hey." Hoseok says with a bright smile. He holds up the bags in his hands. "I brought food and icelattes."

"Which makes you a hero. Come in."

You eat and drink your coffees as you talk about stuff. Then, you play a recording of a guy who did an awful cover of Smelly Cat a few days ago. It makes Hoseok laugh so hard that he tumbles out of his seat and falls towards you. You knew it was a habit of his but you had never been the person he falls over to, before.

He helps you get the rest of the things done after that and surely him giving you a hand speeds up the process. For the last thing, you call him over to listen to the demos.

"Wow, some of these are really good. Especially this one, I like the beat a lot."

"Yeap, me too. I'm showing this one to Yoongi, later."

Finished up with the things, you're getting ready to leave but you hear him beatboxing the beat he liked a while ago.

"You can beatbox?"

"Yeah, I picked it up not so long ago."

An idea pops into your mind. You take him by the arm, practically drag him back to the recording booth and hand him a mic.

"Get a beat going."

"Wha-"

"Just do it." And you run back to record him doing it. After that, you throw in some other instruments quickly. When you play the outcome, he smiles so hard.

"How did you just do that in such a short time, coming up with practically a song."

"You did it, too. You came up with a beat off the top of your head. That's the basis of songs, mostly."

He listens to it over and over. "Hey can I use this for when I do freestyle battles?"

"To dance over to? Sure! I'll work on it some more, though and perfect it."

He shys away a little. "Well, this would make a great dance track but.. I meant freestyle rap battles."

"You rap, too? Geez, is there any street art you're not talented in?" You're not that surprised, though. He always stroke you as swag in living form.

"I'm trying to get into it. I should improve if I wanna make a name for myself out on the streets of Seoul." he says half jokingly but it's true that the rap scene has become a major part of street competition, recently. You know from Yoongi and Namjoon who are also rappers.

You play the beat from the top. "C'mon, then. Let me hear a snippet."

"No, no I'm not really-"

"C'mon~ let's battle." you say to get him worked up a bit. Also, you picked up a few things from Yoongi and Namjoon over the last couple of years.

"Oh battle? Okay then, why don't you go first?"

Both of you try to control your laughter and you come up with some very stupid and childlike rhymes that make Hoseok laugh even harder.

"It's your turn, J-hope."

"Ooo~" he gets more fired up with the mention of his stage name. You're going back and forth rapping about the most random and funny stuff. But then you get bolder and want to go at him a bit, to get him more serious about this. Trying to remember embarrassing things he's done in high school, you throw in lines about the time he had to dance in his underpants in front of the whole school after losing a bet.

Also, there's this face you pull whenever you try to diss someone, something you picked up from Yoongi. But it looks funny on you and the boys always make fun of you about it. You're sure you're doing it right now, too out of habit. And you're not wrong because as soon as you're done, Hoseok starts and he mentions it.

Except, he says something along the lines of despite of you having that expression, he still doesn't feel like you're dissing him because of how beautiful you look even while pulling a funny face.

What? Did he just call you beautiful? In a rap battle?

You're in shock and aren't able to speak for a while. Which Hoseok takes advantage of. "You failed to come up with something in time, Y/N. I win." Then he boops your nose. He fucking boops your nose. What did you get yourself into?

It's the day you finally bring Hoseok to meet with Yoongi. It's been a couple of weeks since you guys started hanging out kinda on a regular basis and Yoongi finally had some free time. The three of you are sitting in Yoongi's living room and you're watcing them get to know each other. Everything seems to go well. The door opens and Namjoon walks in.

"Yo. Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay since you live far away. Oh wait, you live across the hall." Yoongi is quick to welcome him.

"At least I brought dessert."

The two boys go into the kitchen to get dessert ready to be served.

"That's my roomate Namjoon. He wanted to meet you, too." you inform Hoseok.

"Roommate? Wait- you live just next door?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I'd beg to Yoongi or something to get him to accept me!" he says with a smile. You're glad he's happy about the fact you might live next to each other.

"I think he already likes you. I'm pretty sure you got the room."

And you turn out to be right. Hoseok and Yoongi hit it off quickly and he moves in a couple of days later. You start spending even more time together since then. Both with the other boys around and just you two, alone.

This one time Yoongi gives you the day off, Namjoon is off to do a job interview and you've got absolutely nothing to do. So you go over to see Hoseok. You knock and ring the bell but loud music is coming from inside and he doesn't hear you. The door isn't locked, though and you just go in. When you get to the living room you see Hoseok practising, going really hard at it. There're sweatdrops on his face and his white shirt-now practically see through shirt-is stuck to his body, revealing the delicate structure of it.

Blood rushes to your cheeks and your heart is thumping but you can't look away. He's art, you think. Art that you can't get enough of. He finally notices you, which almost gives you a heart attack but thankfully he isn't uncomfortable with you being there.

"Hey- uh- phew." he tries to talk but needs a moment to catch his breath, first. "Y/N. Please tell me you've been standing there long enough that you saw my new moves."

You nod, still not completely out of your daze. "They were.." you trail off because he just casually takes his shirt off in front of you. "Can you pass me that?" he asks you to hand him over the towel on the chair next to you. You're on autopilot as you do so.

"So, what do you think?"

"Oh yeah- Umm.. it was awesome. Very captivating.."

"Thanks." he smiles brightly while walking closer to you. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. You wanna hang out, after?"

Right. That's why you came over, you remember. "Yeah, I'll be here."

Hoseok and you just hang inside all day. Not doing much but still managing to have fun. Yoongi comes home for a while but has to go back out again, so it's mostly just you two. In the middle of the night, you guys start watching a movie, planning to stay awake till morning but Hoseok's tired from practising earlier and dozes off, eventually. And you're famous for sleeping in front of the tv, so you quickly follow. Then, you two somehow get in a cuddly position in your sleep.

The next morning- or more like afternoon, you wake up to Yoongi slurping his coffee, seated right across from you. Hoseok's nowhere to be seen.

"Hey Yoongs, why am I still here?"

"Well, you obviously fell asleep in front of the tv again and Namjoon's strong arms weren't here to carry you to bed."

"Where is he?"

"Joon said he was staying at a friend last night, not wanting to get all soaked up in the rain. And Hobi woke up just moments ago and went out, saying he has to get ready for a gig."

You nod at him and get up. You're about to go back to your place to wash up but realize something suddenly.

"Since when do you call him Hobi?"

"Since when do you have a crush on him?"

Your eyes go wide with panic. "Wha- No way what're you say-"

"Do you think I'm blind? I can perfectly see it when two people are cuddling on my couch."

"We just fell asleep that's all-"

"I saw you two over at the piano, too. And in the kitchen a few days ago doing the dishes. And while dancing here in the living room for no reason. You can't look him in the eyes without going red and he can't take his eyes off of you."

There isn't much you can say to convince him otherwise because you realize that he's right. At first when you guys started hanging out again, you thought you felt butterflies because you kinda had a thing for him in high school. You paid it no mind thinking it'd fade away with time but it didn't. Your feelings only grew stronger and now you know it was visible to others.

What has you tensed up, however is the way Yoongi talks about the situation like it's both-sided. That's where you can't be sure. Because yes, Hoseok randomly calls you beautiful, takes you out for meals and spends entire days with you. But you don't know if he likes you like that or if he's just being friendly. Just like back in high school.

"Okay, yeah. He makes me feel a certain way. But there's nothing going on, we haven't even talked about it. I don't think he's into me like that."

Yoongi's brows furrow in confusion. "He was just asking me if anything was going on between you and Joon the other day, though."

He asked what?

"What?"

"Dude, he was obviously jealous and suspicious of the fact that you were roommates. And very close ones."

You did have a very close bond with Namjoon, just as you did with Yoongi. Yoongi's just involved less skinship and more serious talk. But Namjoon was the first person who friended you in Seoul and over the years he became your self proclaimed guardian angel. That was all.

"You didn't correct him?!"

"I tried but he seemed overwhelmed with confusion, I'm not sure if he fully believed me. Or fully listened? I dunno- I was kinda enjoying his little emotional crisis."

"Yoongs!"

"Fine! So yeah, maybe you should to talk to him."

How do you talk to someone about this? you wonder. And can Yoongi really be right about the possibility of him reciprocating your feelings?

You're reading a book on your couch. It's been a couple of days since your cuddly interaction with Hoseok and you haven't really hung out after that, either. You're not avoiding him, though. More like testing the waters. Namjoon's little squeal and sprint to the living room gets you out of your thoughts.

"Y/N! Oh my god!"

"Joonie what happened?"

"I got in." His smile is from ear to ear but you're not surprised he got the job he was going after for a while now. He happens to be intelligent beyond your understanding. But also a goofball. Because he -who usually treats books like his children- throws the one you were reading away and gets you up on his back. Now you're both singing victory songs as he gives you a piggy back ride.

Just then, Hoseok makes an entrance to your apartment, sees you two and his face visibly drops.

"Oh- sorry guys. I should've knocked-"

"Dude, it's okay. Think about our two apartments as one big house. You don't have to worry about knocking everytime. Come in!" Namjoon is being his friendly self as he puts you down. "I gotta go call my parents. Thanks for always believing in me, Y/N." He places a soft peck on the top of your head and goes back to his room. Uh-oh. You hope Hoseok doesn't misunderstand.

"How are you doing, Hobi?"

"I'm-" he hesitates for a while. "I didn't know you and Namjoon were.. are you? Y'know like together?"

"No!" you regret yelling but it just comes out before you can stop. "I mean, it's not like that. We're friends. In fact he kinda decleared himself my older brother."

The total grimace that had took over Hoseok's face starts to slowly dissappear. "Oh, okay. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable like that-"

"No, no. Let's just change the subject." You want to move on from this before it gets awkward.

"Okay. Oh right! I came over to show you something."

He holds out his phone for you to see. It's an invite to an event. Gwangju High's high school reunion, to be exact. You also got one, too but immediately deleted.

"The reunion? You're going?" you ask.

"We should go."

You're about to protest but he cuts in.

"I know most of our year were jerks. But it's Gwangju. I know you miss it there. And high school wasn't all evil."

"It was the people who were evil, Hobi."

"That's why we have to show them their evil ways weren't enough to break us down."

"What do you mean, we? Everyone loved you!"

"The jocks hated me for being popular despite not playing football."

That was true. They sometimes gave him a hard time for grabbing the attention of girls more than them.

"Besides, we're grown ups. If they weren't able to mature, that's their problem. We'll just breathe in some hometown air and have fun."

You did miss home. And the fact Hoseok'll be with you eases your stress so you say yes.

Hoseok and you roam the streets of Gwangju, firstly. You tell him the places you missed most and you visit those. When the reunion evening closes in, both of you go to your homes to get ready. Your parents are sort of shocked you're attending the event but they won't complain because they missed you a lot and you haven't realized how much you missed them back till you finally came back after a long while.

Hoseok comes to pick you up and oh boy. He immediately recongnizes the dress you're wearing as the exact one you wore to prom. The light blue piece fits your body even more perfectly now, he thinks.

"This is your prom dress." It's not a question because he's certain.

You panic because well you wore it thinking nobody would remember since not a lot of people were paying attention to you during prom and you didn't have anything else decent enough in your old closet. How the hell does he remember?

"It looks even more beautiful." And with that, your panic is no more.

You get to the school finally and almost everyone is there. All trying very hard to look fancy, so Hoseok and you make fun of some of them before entering.

"It's J-hope!", "Hope's back!" and "Who is that with Hoseok?" are the comments you hear as you walk by. A few speeches are given, while you stuff your face with cupcakes. Then music's on and people start dancing.

Hoseok is approached by many and he kindly converses with them all. He forces you to speak from time to time, too. One of the boys who you used to tutor a lot, Hansung, tries to make a couple of moves on you. Probably under the influence of alcohol. You politely dismiss him but some other guys that came alone also are eyeing you from different places of the room. Hoseok is well aware and not okay with it, at all.

He slides a hand down your arm and links your fingers. When you turn to him in surprise, he pulls you closer. "Let's act like a couple."

"What-"

"I'm sick of people trying to see if you're available for them, aren't you?"

It is a bit disturbing. You bet most of them didn't even recognize you and are just looking for a prey for the night. "I am." you reply.

"Then just go with it."

So you do that but this time the girls start to get uncomfortable since most of them were eyeing Hoseok. And like clockwork, Gaeun appears with her gang of plastic girls. Gaeun used to be Hoseok's biggest fan. But all she actually wanted was to get into his pants just cause of how popular he was. Knowing this, you tense up. Her eyes hold such a suggestive look that you almost want to protect Hoseok from her.

As far as you know Hoseok has never indulged her like that back in school days. And he doesn't seem to be effected by the way she looks right now, either which can be described in two words: model legs.

"Hobi~" her irritating voice muses. "There're lots of girls wanting to dance with you tonight."

He takes his hand away from yours to claimingly grab you waist. "Sorry, ladies. My dances are all booked by this one, right here." He turns his head and places a kiss on your temple.

"I'm sure your date for the night won't mind if-"

"She's not just my date for the night. Y/N is my girlfriend." he cuts her off. Shock is evident not only on their faces but yours as well. The girls have to walk away awkwardly but what they think they're speaking among themselves is quite audible to you.

"There's no way. Y/N could never be enough for him. Just wait until the end of the night and see how he gets bored."

Hoseok didn't hear them. But you and some other people did. And you don't care what Gaeun says but her words get around fast and people are looking at you even more weirdly than before. Hoseok realizes your body tensing up.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't think people are buying that we're together. Especially after Gaeun started speaking to them."

He looks around to find that people really were looking at you suspiciously.

"Let's make it more believable, then."

He pulls you to the dancefloor and starts moving you to the rhythm. You've danced with him before but they were all silly ones, meant for fun. This one was serious. And your bodies were seriously close. But you just let him lead you, knowing that he knows what he's doing. After a while he figures that the music's ending so he twirls you around and finishes with a sudden dip.

You're back is resting againt his hand as you're leant back and Hoseok's face is so very close to yours. Some people clap and some don't but neither of you really care about the people watching anymore. Then he kisses you. He downright kisses you at the center of the dancefloor. It's passionate but gentle. He doesn't let go for a while but you've no clue how long it's been cause you're lost in the taste of him. Which is a thousand times sharper than the whiskey and a thousand times sweeter than the cupcakes.

He pulls you back up, finally parting your lips. "I think we got about enough attention. Wanna get out of here? We can go to the music room." he suggests. All you can do is nod cause you still can't form words.

You get there and it's the only place in this school that you've missed. You sit down on the piano seat and Hoseok pulls a chair next to you, it's like deja vu.

"You know the song you used to play, the one I liked a lot. River-"

"River flows in you." of course you remember.

"Yeah. I kinda tried learning that on the piano a while back."

"Show me."

He tries to play it and messes up some bits so you help him out. Then, your hands touch accidentally and you both freeze.

"Y/N-"

"Hoseok-"

You both try to speak at the same time and cut each other off, so you laugh. Hoseok goes for it again.

"Y/N. I wanted to ask you out so many times right here, as you'd play songs to me. Did you know that?"

You most certainly did not.

"I wanted to ask you to a dance at the prom, so bad. But you left before I could muster up the courage."

He turns to face you completely.

"I couldn't believe it when I found you again, like that. Everything I felt came back to me as we spent more and more time with each other. And when I got that invite.. I thought- Maybe I've been given a second chance, to do it right this time."

Your heart is racing so fast that you can hear it. Every word he said are things that you've been thinking. So you have to do it properly this time, too.

"So.. so, will you go out with-"

You crash your lips with his immediately and he responds in a flash. This time the kiss is much more deep and demanding. His hands travel down to your waist as you get up from your seat and move to his lap. He hums into your mouth and you try to take in every bit of the vibration from it before both of you pull apart, out of breath.

But he still looks at you with questioning eyes, as if you haven't just given him an answer clear as day. But he looks so cute that you entertain him.

"Yes, high school crush. I will go out with you."

He can finally smile again. Though, it turns into a smirk a while later.

"But will you go out with me?" you joke around, still sitting on his lap.

"I will go out with you so bad that it'll swipe you right off your feet."

As if he already doesn't..

....

A/N: Wowzers, my first Hoseok fic is finished.. I know this was long and thanks sooo much if you bared with me and read it. It would mean a great deal to me to know what you thought of this so, I’d love to have your feedback. Thanks again for reading and have a lobely daayyy :)

PS: How beautiful is Hoseok btw..

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houkuaichuii · 5 years

Note

Oh my goodness, your Gavin fluff made me feel like I was surrounded by sunshine and happiness! Your writing was so beautiful, I've read it about 10 times 😍 If it's not too much, could you do something fluffy with MLQC Victor? When you have time love, please and thank you! ❤

I’m so glad that you were able to enjoy that fic-- it’s definitely one of my favourite pieces that I’ve written.

I’m so sorry that your request took a while to fulfill! I struggled with finding the right words and concept in achieving a fluffy fic for our favourite CEO that was just right since he’s not exactly the... sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows type of guy? At least in my point of view! Though without further ado, I do hope that I managed to grasp what you wanted!

Pairing: Victor/MC(Reader)Word Count: ~890Warnings?: Attempted fluff!!!

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

There was something about the way you looked whenever you slept.

You looked so peaceful, so serene, having had made Victor feel as if he should place a kiss against those soft lips of yours, just so he could lift the supposed spell that had befallen upon you. However, alongside such feeling, there was also a part of him that dared not to break your state of tranquil, knowing full well that you needed your rest as much as the next person. Nevertheless, you were a sight to behold, a wonder to appreciate with a heart as full as his had been in that moment.

There was the subtle movement of your chest as you breathed, your mouth agape. There was also the way the soft sunlight illuminated against your naked skin, albeit accentuating the marks he had left behind several hours before. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards at the sight of them, a hand reaching out to caress the darkening love bites. He certainly hadn’t held himself back, not when all he could hear were your illicit moans and pleas resonating throughout the room, as well as the feel of your nails scraping the length of his back as he pleasured you again and again, for as long as he was able to.

And yet, despite the night that you two had, there you were laying beside him, looking as innocent as the day he met you.

An emotion of tenderness swept through his being with that thought. Being reminded of the past, there was no way he could have imagined the sight before him years ago; and if he had done so, it most certainly did not compare to the real thing. It was not the first time he had seen you like this, however; in fact, it was far from being a first, considering the golden band that he had worn since the day you both exchanged your vows.

One would have thought that he was past the stage of being utterly and hopelessly in love with you, or at least past the act of memorising the curves, edges, and corners of your profile during the wee hours of an early morning--- and he was, to be honest, as he had memorised the entirety of you when you had truly allowed him to do so a long time ago. But even so, no matter how long it had been, there was always a spread of warmth within his chest that only you could have made him feel.

For as long as Victor could remember, it had always just been you.

You shifted slightly with a sigh and a scrunch of your nose, to which Victor found rather… adorable.

“One of these days, you’re going to get tired of my face.” You said, your voice quiet and low from the night’s use.

The man merely snorted at the notion, finding it preposterous that you had even suggested it in the first place. “Pretty sure I’ve been tired of it since you walked into my office for funding.” He said, pushing a loose strand of your hair back as he waited for you to open your eyes, just so he could drown in the way they often gleamed under the morning light.

Fortunately enough, he didn’t have to wait long.

Soon after the comment was made, you gradually blinked your eyes open, though not without a furrow of your brows. “You know, when you say things like that, it really makes me wonder why I’m married to you.”

As hard as he tried, Victor could not stop the tug on his lips that had stretched into a smile. There were many responses that he could have said, teased you with, but in the end, he dropped a kiss against your forehead, the tip of your nose, and cheeks.

“Because I love you,” It was then when he took your lower lip in between his, “Always have.” another kiss before he drew back to his original position, head perched on the heel of his palm.

There was a pause, one that was spent basking in the essence of silent affection and open gentleness. With the pad of his finger, Victor followed the path of your cheekbones, down the bridge of your nose, the bow of your upper lip, until he eventually brushed across the lower with his thumb; soft and plump.

“Good morning, wife.” He said, his eyes never straying from yours.

He watched as a look of endearment settled itself upon your features, your cheeks colouring in a bashful manner-- or perhaps it was the ‘butterflies’ in your ‘tummy’, as what you had confessed to him before. He smiled inwardly at that memory, amused at how you still were not used to his private moments of sincerity and fondness after everything. Still though, he did enjoy having such a simple effect on you in times of domesticity.

Among other things, of course.

Then you smiled that smile of yours and took his left hand with yours, interlacing your fingers together. Both of your rings glinted in reflection of the light that came pouring in from the room’s wide windows. Needless to say, Victor’s heart swelled at the sight of what was in front of him.

“Good morning, husband.”

It was a good morning, indeed.

#Mr Love Queen's Choice #MLQC #MLQC Victor #MLQC fanfic #Mr Love Victor #Love and Producer #Chie writes.#Chie answers.#I wrote two other pieces for this request and lmao they kept taking the wrong turn.#I was aiming for fluff #but one went angst and the other went naughty times--#also! I'm off uni for the next two weeks!!! I'm also taking in requests so please send some!!#I haven't written anything for Kiro or Lucien and would love to receive some for them!!#in saying that tho SEND REQUEST FOR ANY OF THE BOYS #Thank u all!!!#AND I LOVE U!!!!!!!#Anonymous

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katedrakeohd · 5 years

Text

The Royal Honor 👑

Masterlist

Chapter One

________________

A 'The Royal Heir' Fanfiction

Last Night in Paradise (Rated: Mature 18+)

The warm surf lapped over their feet as they walked along the beach hand in hand. The golden peachy glow of sunset set the ocean on fire, and the soft tropical breeze soothed their sun warmed skin. After a week in this Paradise they were reluctant to leave, but they had memories to last them a lifetime.

Kate smiled up at her husband Drake Walker, his handsome face bronzed by a week in the tropical sun. The toned and generously proportioned muscles of his chest and torso matched his arms and powerful legs. He was truly a prime specimen of masculine perfection, power and sex appeal. Feeling her eyes on him he turns his face away from the glow upon the water, the white of his smile rivaling the sparkling sea foam that lathered their ankles. The playful smirk at the corner of his mouth brought a sparkle to his dark eyes, making Kate's stomach flutter and her knees go weak. No matter where they were, that smirk and sparkle always made her melt inside and love him more.

The first month of their marriage had been a pure bliss of laughter, lovemaking and utter joy. Their honeymoon had been more of the same, except with less clothing, and there had been days they'd barely worn anything at all. You'd have to look very closely to find a tan line on either of them, except for in private places they only shared with each other.

It was their last night on the island, and after enjoying a sumptuous meal of steak, seafood and fresh fruit they were taking their time during their evening beach walk.

Turning to Kate and drawing her into his arms, Drake chuckles, leaning in to kiss her smiling mouth.

“So Kate, tonight what will it be? Sex on the beach and then skinny dipping, or skinny dipping and then sex on the beach.”

Kate laughs, holding onto him tightly as the surf ploughs and scrapes the sand from around their feet. “How about skinny dipping and then sex at the villa, I've had enough of rinsing sand out of intimate places to last me a lifetime.”

As his fingers deftly untie the back of her bikini top for the countless time that week he couldn't agree more. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Kate giggles as he stuffs her bikini top into the pocket of his shorts, and then hooks his thumbs into the top of her bikini bottoms and quickly forces them down off of her hips to fall into the surf at her ankles. Kate steps out one foot and then kicks her soggy bottoms out onto the dry sand.

In the dying light of sunset, with her long hair blowing on the breeze and her toes burrowed into the soft sand, Kate positively glowed like a goddess. Her sun kissed skin took on a coppery tone, and her sapphire eyes glittered like the waves. Drake felt his whole body grow warm and tingle at the sight of her, and it had nothing to do with the sultry tropical air. She stepped in close, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts to his chest. Inhaling deeply, he relished the feel of her every curve and angle pressed up against his hot skin. She smelled of coconut, beach sand and sunshine. He knew her lips would taste salty and sweet, where she had been in the sea breeze all day and had eaten the majority of the fruity offerings at dinner.

Dipping down to grab her ass, he picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. When she presses her lips hungrily to his, his tongue jockeys for position in her mouth. When she flicks the underside of his tongue playfully with hers, he groans. Bucking his hips upward and bouncing her against his hardened cock in his shorts, makes her break off the kiss and drop her head back with a moan.

“Drake, I want you so bad..”

Kissing her neck and holding her tight, he whispers, “And you have no idea how much I want you Kate, how much I always want you..”

Gripping him tighter with her legs, she tugs at his hair and nips at his lower lip.

“Show me,” she hisses, teasing his lips with hers, making him work to establish a lock. He growls, kissing her roughly, his heart pounding and his lungs screaming for air when he finally breaks contact.

Kate gasps for air, feeling giddy and drunk off his kisses. His hard muscled body flexed and strained to keep her tightly held to him as he turned to walk into the ocean. Feeling the water lick at her toes as the waves crash against his knees, makes Kate giggle.

“You wouldn't drop me would you?”

Drake smirks at her and winks, “Who me? I wouldn't dare.”

As he wades deeper, it becomes more difficult for Drake to keep his footing under their combined weight. He bounces her again and her ass splashes against the water, making her shriek and clutch him tighter around the shoulders.

With a chuckle he says, “Kaaate, you're getting mighty slippery. Don't know how much longer I can hold on.”

Kate looks around nervously, trying to judge the depth of the water around them in the growing darkness. Drake starts to rock side to side, testing the limits of Kate's grip on him. Her eyes go wide when she realizes what he's planning to do. Laughing and shrieking as his rocking intensifies, she protests, slapping him on the back. “No..no..no. Draaake!”

With a laugh, he launches her into the air with a grunt. She screams and then hits the water with a big splash. Drake holds his sides laughing when she comes back up sputtering, cursing and splashing water at him.

“Oh it's on Mr. Walker!” she laughs, lunging forward to push him down into the water.

They both go under and Drake grabs for her hand and struggles to stand back up. When they surface, he manages to get to his knees, pulling her tightly to him. After turning his head to cough the saltwater out of his mouth, he goes in for a kiss. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Kate relaxes against him, letting the waves rock them back and forth.

Under the water Drake's hands slide down her back and he grabs her ass, clamping her tightly to him. “Hold on tight my little mermaid, I'm going to stand up.”

Kate holds on as tightly as she can as Drake struggles to stand up. As he finds his footing she wraps her legs around his waist again, sending him off balance. Laughing as he wobbles and then straightens up, Drake walks back to the beach. When the water is ankle deep he twirls her around splashing, making her shriek with laughter. “Stop!..Drake, stop!”

Laughing some more he kisses Kate's smiling mouth, his chest heaving from the exertion of carrying them both out of the water. Kate lets go of his waist, and Drake sets her down on the wet sand. Breathing hard they rest their foreheads together, smiling. Kate runs her hands down the front of his body, feeling the grit on his skin, her fingers stop at the waistband of his swim shorts.

“I think these need to go.” Kate says with a grin.

Drake unties the drawstring on his shorts and after a brief struggle drops them to the sand. Kicking them off, he reaches for her hand and they make their way back to the villa. The warm evening air blows the salty droplets off of their damp skin, and by the time they walk up to the building they're mostly dry apart from their hair.

Drake looks down at the sand caked on his feet and ankles. He leads Kate around to the patio at the back of the villa, grabbing a beach towel off of a lounge chair, and then heads for the outdoor shower. The shower enclosure wasn't big enough for two, but that's never stopped them before. As Drake reaches in to start the water, Kate hugs him around the waist from behind. She can feel the grit on his skin as she slides her hands lower. Drake stops her hand before she reaches his groin. “Nah ah, there's enough grit down there from being in the ocean, I don't need you rubbing it around.”

Kate withdraws her hand, “Oh right, sorry.”

Drake steps to the side when the water's warm. “Ladies first.”

Kate nods, stepping under the warm water. There wasn't any soap, but she was more concerned with rinsing off the sand. As she closes her eyes and turns toward the shower head Kate feels Drake slide in behind her. It was a tight squeeze but Kate didn't mind having hot naked Drake pressed up against her back. Sweeping her hair off to the side, Drake kisses her shoulder, the water beating down on the back of his head. He slides his arms around her middle, his teeth nipping a trail up her neck. When his tongue traces the shell of her ear, Kate shivers despite the warm water beating down on them both. She tips her head to the side, reaching back to grab a handful of his hair. Drake groans, his hands sliding up to cup and squeeze at her breasts. Kate brings her hands down behind her ass, grabbing two handfuls of Drake, stroking and squeezing. With a growl he rocks his hips, intensifying his pleasure. “Turn around Kate, I want you right now.”

Carefully shuffling around to face him, Kate reaches up behind Drake's neck as he mashes his mouth hungrily down onto hers. Drake turns her toward the corner of the stall, lifting up her leg and forcing her shoulders up against the walls. Sliding his hand down between her legs he teases her clit and then tucks in two fingers.

Kate throws her head back with a moan, “Oh fuck Drake, quit teasing me.”

Drake grabs his cock and tucks himself into Kate. “Hold onto me, I'm going to lift you up.”

Kate nods, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he grabs her ass and lifts her up. The walls of the shower shudder and shake as Drake drives up into his wife over and over. Waves of pleasure crest and then crash through her body, causing her to cry out.

“Oooh..Yes, fuck yes! Drake, Oh my God yesss..”

Kate's cries of passion fuel his own, encouraging him to drive that much harder. Throwing his head back he growls as the tight wet sheath of her body squeezes and sucks at his swollen cock and balls.

“Fuuck, sweet Jesus Fuck, I love you Kate.”

Kate gasps, her thighs clenching tighter around him. “Oh God, I love you too..”

Panting heavily he slows down, making each thrust long and deliberate. Each push getting more difficult as Kate felt the pulsing ripple of her orgasm overtake her. As Kate throws her head back moaning loudly, she digs her nails into his back.

Drake grits his teeth against the stinging pain, thrusting up harder and faster, intensifying her orgasm as he feels his own release bubbling up out of his tightening cock and balls. With a shuddering gasp he erupts, his ass clenching as he mashes up hard against her.

Leaning into each other they both pant heavily as their limbs turn to jelly and Kate releases her grip around his waist. Drake kisses her trembling lips over and over as they struggle to catch their breaths. Stepping backward, he clumsily turns off the water as he pulls Kate with him out of the shower. Standing together on the patio, they rock side to side as their heartbeats come down to a normal rhythm. Nestling her head into his chest, Drake strokes her back. Kate's rubs her hands soothingly up and down his back as well, feeling completely at peace.

“I love you Drake,” she whispers.

Kissing the top of her head he mumbles into her hair, “I love you too Kate.”

…

After gently toweling each other off, they cuddle together on one of the loungers using the beach towel as a blanket. The warm breeze washes over them as they gaze up at the stars.

“I can't believe we have to leave the island tomorrow and go back to Cordonia, and home to Valtoria.” Kate sighs, gently stroking her fingers up and down Drake's arm.

“Yes I know, Duke and Duchess Walker of Valtoria at that.” Drake mumbles

Drake had never imagined ever having a title in front of his name other than Mister. But now he had become Duke Drake Walker, Guardian of the Realm. From nobody to Noble within two months. He wasn't sure how or when he'd ever get used to having such responsibility. Or if he'd ever get used to being called Duke anything. Being called Your Grace made him squirm.

Kate tilts her head back to look at his face. “I know you're not big on titles Drake. But there are two I think you'd be most comfortable with.”

“Hmm? Like what?” he mumbles, lacing his fingers with hers.

“Husband and Daddy.” She says smiling.

Drake smiles back, his eyes filled with love, “Yes those are my favourite too.”

With a happy sigh Kate sits up on the edge of the lounger, turning to hug Drake around the waist as she leans against him. She places his hand on her belly, stroking his fingers lovingly with her own. “I can't wait for the day when I get to call you Daddy Drake.”

Drake sits up, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her gently, “I dream about that day too, and of seeing you holding our beautiful baby wrapped in a blanket. I want them to have your beautiful eyes and your smile.”

Kate runs her fingers through his thick, dark hair, laying her hand against his cheek, “If we have a boy I want him to look like you.”

Drake leans his cheek into her touch, closing his eyes. Shifting his position on the lounger he tucks his head against her shoulder. Kate kisses him on the forehead, cuddling him to her like her 200 lb baby. Off in the distance she sees a streak of light blaze across the sky. A shooting star. Now this moment is perfect, she thought, closing her eyes too.

#long post #drake walker #choices #the royal heir #smut #n*fw

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sunyoonandstars · 5 years

Text

BTS Scenario 3 || Them seeing your evident self-harm scars (for the first time) || You x Taehyung

So … since this is kind of close to home for me and it helped me deal with some issues of my own, I wrote and published this same scenario for several other members already a while back. You can find them on my Masterlist.

I aim to do the same for all the members, one by one. And here comes the long awaited Taehyung edition. I hope reading it will give you as much strength, hope, and comfort as writing it did me. 😌

Scenario

You are in a serious relationship with them but have somehow managed to hide your self-harm scars up to this point. However, for some reason, they are coincidentally faced with your scars. These are their reactions:

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count

1.143

! Disclaimer/trigger warning ! The following text contains mentions of self-abusive / self-harming behavior and scars. Do not read if it may trigger you!

If you are currently struggling and need someone to talk, know that you can always contact me. I have personal experience with mental illness and self-harm. I don’t know what you may be going through, but I know you can make it! Love yourself! 💜

Mental health matters! You matter! And you are truly beautiful!

3.3. Kim Taehyung / V

Taehyung would feel your pain. He would be equally hurt by the fact that you attempted to hide a part of yourself from him as he would be understanding, since he, himself, is familiar with the darkness and can have trouble letting people in and showing his true emotions. Once you would open up to him, however, he would do the same, and the shared moment would only deepen and strengthen your relationship. Besides, that old, artist’s soul of his would be able to see and admire the beauty even in your ‘broken’ parts ...

Four months. That's how long you had been seeing Taehyung already, and, so far, they were the best four months of your life.

Never before did you dare to believe anyone could make you feel so unique, lovable, beautiful, and worthy. Taehyung adored you, and he made sure to remind you of that fact every single day, once at least. All the more guilty did you feel for hiding something from him. Some part of yourself, of your truth, that you feared he would be appalled by.

With every day passing, your guilt kept on growing, eating away at your previous, lightsome happiness until it threatened to smother you, dimming your smiles and turning precious, rare moments spent by Taehyung's side into unbearable ordeals.

And you could tell that it wasn't just you who had changed. There was a transformation apparent in Taehyung, as well, in the way he acted towards you or in general whenever you were near. He became quieter, hesitant whenever he touched you. You caught him watching you when he thought you weren't looking, something much more serious about the look in his eye, some sort of sadness that was more than just that. Longing. Loneliness. And it broke your heart, a little more with every moment you spent together.

Until, one day, you couldn't take it any longer. The truth untold, the words unspoken that needed to be said.

So, at the break of dusk, you lifted your head that had been resting on Taehyung's chest for hours now that had been spent simply lying there in silence on his bed, observing the sunset through the open window. Ypu had to force yourself to look him in the eye as you spoke.

"I'm sorry, Tae. I'm sorry I'm hurting you."

"Y/n. No. You're not -"

"Shush," you cut him off, placing your index finger on his soft lips. "No, Tae. I need to say this. Because I'm truly sorry, so sorry you feel like I don't trust you. Because I do. I want to. And there's something I need to show you."

Before he could raise his voice once more, you detached yourself from Taehyung's comfortably warm body and sat up in his lap, avoiding his gaze while you slowly pulled up the sleeves of your shirt, exposing dozens upon dozens of more or less prominent scars stretching across your otherwise flawless skin. Scars left by razor blades, kitchen knives, scissors or even your own fingernails. Light pink, of crimson color or bleached out by time and sunlight, shimmering white against your already pale skin.

"Y/n - I - What is this?"

Gently, Taehyung took your wrist into one of his slender hands and leaned in to observe the marks more closely, a serious crease forming in between his distinct, dark brows.

"Y/n," he now looked up at you. "Please, explain, love. What am I looking at here? I mean, I have a pretty good idea. But I want to hear it from you, in your own words. I want you to tell me. Your story. Their stories. Everything."

And when he said that, his voice was bare of judgment, anger or disgust. Taehyung merely sounded curious, genuinely caring, and his glance was overflowing with nothing but affection, reflecting your very own pain.

"And you're not mad?" you inquired, unable to hide your surprise.

"Mad? At you? Not at all," Taehyung shook his head, his long fingers all the while absentmindedly caressing your skin, following the traces all those battles you had fought, struggling with your demons, had left behind on your body, whereas his eyes remained locked with yours, his gaze unwavering. "Disappointed, maybe. That you believed even for a second that there was a need to hide this part of you from me."

"I'm sorry, Tae," you echoed once again, feeling tears collect.

"No, don't apologize. I get it. There were times when I felt like I needed to protect you from my darkness, too. Those days, when I suddenly canceled dates? Or when I was distant and cold?" He paused, and you could tell his eyes, too, were welling up. "I may not have always been perfectly honest with you, either, y/n. I didn't want you to have to deal with that side of me. I see now that I was wrong. We both were. But people make mistakes. They learn and grow. Grow closer. So, there's no reason to apologize again. It's okay, y/n. I understand, I really do. You needed time to trust, time to let me in, and I respect that. I guess we're very similar in that way."

"I guess we are."

Your lips curved by the same sad smile that tugged at the corners of Taehyung's mouth, you exhaled a sigh of heartfelt relief as your fingers somehow found their way into his big, warm hand, naturally intertwining themselves with his.

"And I'm glad we are," Taehyung said after a few minutes of placid silence. "I feel like I can be myself with you, y/n. Unfiltered, now that we disposed of this last obstacle, this unspoken truth we had to share. And, to me, it's like I've already known you all my life, even long before I even knew of your existence if you get at all what I'm trying to say."

Hopeful, Taehyung looked up at you.

"I know, this might sound cheesy and stupid," he scoffed, his words followed by a low chuckle. "But I really believe we might be soulmates, y/n. Like, for real. And, to me, you are the most beautiful person in this entire world. Everything about you is marvelous. These, as well. Each and every one of them."

His movements speaking of the greatest admiration, Taehyung now began trailing the lines of your scars with the tips of his fingers, his touch ever so gentle, before he went on to grasp your forearm with both his hands. One of them he placed by your elbow, the other one encircled your wrist as he led your arm up, towards himself, proceeding to lower his head so his soft hair hid it from your view when he started covering your tender skin with the softest of kisses, the sensation sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

"I adore you, y/n," Taehyung whispered when he raised his head in between kisses, his lips slowly but surely moving upwards, closing in on the rim of your sleeve. "Every last bit of you. And I don't mind your demons, your past mistakes or the parts of yourself and your life that you'd like to edit out. Because they are what makes you the incredible person you are. The amazing you that I love. So, just let me have you, y/n. All of you. And I will give you all of me. For as long as you will have me."

I hope you liked it and could maybe, hopefully, even take some comfort from it.

Thank you for reading! Take care, have a wonderful day and never forget: You are loved! 💜

Here you can find my Masterlist if you would like to read more of my BTS fiction.

None of the GIFs used are mine. Credit goes to the initial creators. Thank you for your hard work and dedication.

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ener-chi · 5 years

Note

Hello!!❤️ I've seen your astral readings and they seem very interesting! I would like to get one if you feel like it, please? Thank you very much❤️🌙💛 my name is Stephanie.T.D I'm 18 and wear glasses I currently have red hair, and well I hope you can use my pic for connecting with my energy. Thank you so much!!💛❤️💛❤️

Hi Steph! Thank you for the request, this is the last astral reading I’ll be doing for a while. Alright let’s go!

I see… a girl… medium height… red hair… glasses… she is sitting at a desk… reading… she’s wearing… some kind of black and white jumpsuit I believe… her red hair is down and curled… she reads her book intently… her face blank but her eyes deeply absorbing… the room zooms out a little bit more… it appears to be her bedroom… the desk is against the wall, by a window… large bed in the middle of the room… everything in the room is orderly, except her closet, where it seems a little bit unkempt and clothes are on the floor…

Her energy… she is very kind… above average energy… fun and likes to be silly with her friends… I sense… that her personality pretty much remains the same as it was since her youth… but inside, she is changing… her perception is growing, she is learning, understanding… soon, outer self will begin to reflect her new inner self…

The girl shuts her big kind of loudly, and moves it to the top left corner of her desk, perfectly aligned. She turns in her chair and faces me, smiling, waves, and mouths “hello.” I greet her back, she points and looks upwards, then looks back at me, eyes filled with curiosity. I nod, a low roar, things begin to shake, up we go…

I find myself in a hallway, before me two very old, weathered, heavy wooden doors with iron-ring handles. I rub my hands together, feeling my energy. I look down… I’m wearing brown, flat tipped shoes… dark brown scratchy pants… a matching, brown tweed jacket… a scally cap… I look like I’m from the 1920’s, how odd… definitely an outfit I’d never wear in real life.

I open the doors, my vision begins by me looking at the sky, which is a lovely shade of baby blue. A dove flies past, and my vision pans downwards…

I see a lake… a mountain spring… clear water… there is a mountain peak at the far side of the lake, with a little bit of snow crested at the top. Around the perimeter of the lake is rocks and short, soft green grass. The air is cool, almost frosty. It is very quiet and peaceful, I almost hear soft piano music playing in the background…

I am standing in the bottom left corner of the lake. I look across the way to the other corner, and I see a large cherry blossom tree, its’ trunk in kind of an “S” shape that curves over the water. Its’ pink and white blossoms slowly fall from the tree, almost appearing like it is snow. There is a figure sitting on the trunk of the tree, above the water.

I walk over, the sound of me walking across the rocks so satisfying. As I near the tree, I feel its’ presence, its’ soul emanates very strongly. I give a tiny bow out of respect and greeting, and I get a warm feeling in return, an okay to proceed forward, it knows why I am here. I am trusted and deemed safe.

I walk to the base of the tree and call out to the figure.

“Hi there” the figure continues to stare at the lake for a moment before turning and acknowledging me.

“Hello,” a soft, higher female voice says. I see the figure, it is a young woman, she is wearing some sort of white… cowl? Her top is completely white, very silky, yet opaque. It has a hood, and the draw strings of it are very long and drape down. Actually it must be more of a dress, it drapes down just a little above her knees, and she is barefoot.

“May I join you?” I ask

“Sure,” she says warmly, scooting over on the middle of the trunk, making room. I climb up the tree, the bark warm with energy as I touch it. How odd, I am really resonating with this tree. Maybe I will speak with it before I leave.

I climb up and sit next to her, my legs dangling off the tree and over the clear water. Petals fall all around us, and in the shade of the tree, it feels like a truly magical place.

“So who are you,” the woman asks, turning to me, pulling off her hood. Her hair is… I’m having a hard time telling for sure, I want to say blonde mostly, but I’m also getting black, but also red? Weird. Mm no it is blonde. It is blonde, like white, straight, about shoulder length. Her face… is so young… her complexion smooth and soft… her eyes… a very light pastel blue… there are many things behind them, which I can’t read at the moment… there is a soft glow of innocence and purity on her face.

“You can call me zhu. I am a visitor, and a friend” I say, turning to her, “And who are you?”

“I am me, of course,” she says, with a light laugh. “Names are not important, but you can call me… Aiya.”

“Okay… Aiya. So where are we?”

“This is my place. This is my sanctuary, where I come to think, to rest, to be.”

“I see. It is very beautiful here, so quiet and still.”

“Yes, it is. It is here that I can remove myself from the noise and distractions of the world.”

“Can I ask… about the tree? Does it have any significance?”

“I love cherry blossom trees, they are so beautiful, don’t you think? So sturdy and steadfast, survivors, yet what they produce is so gentle and pure”

“Yes, they are indeed lovely.”

We sit in silence for a while. I take the opportunity to tune into the tree. I warm my energy, sending it into the tree at our points of contact, and it does the same, completing a circuit.

“Greetings, tree. I would love to speak for a brief moment if you are so inclined.”

“Yes, hello old one”

“I wanted to reach out and speak for a bit, our energies seemed to resonate very well and I felt drawn to it”

“Yes, I wanted to speak with you. This place… is a sanctuary, a holy place. I make it so, I guard it, I purify it”

“I see. You’ve done a wonderful job. What is your relation to this girl?”

“I watch her. I guide her in subtle ways, I keep her energy clean.”

“Are you her spirit guide, perhaps?” I don’t get a solid answer… maybe? “Well, in any case, that is very kind of you, I will be sure to let her know, perhaps she can get in contact with you.”

“Thank you.”

I cup my hands, forming a ball of energy, green energy, I push it into the trunk of the tree. “Thank you for your time”

“Yes, thank you, and thank you for the offering.”

“What are you doing?” the girl asks me as I come to, I blink a couple of times.

“Sorry, I was… I just spaced out a little bit, is all. Is there anything that you would like to tell me or talk about?”

The girl looks down for a moment, thinking.

“Am I on the right path?”

“What path are you talking about?”

“The one that I’m on now”

“You are always on the path, even if you don’t feel that you are, even if you feel that it is the wrong path. Everything that you do is meant to happen, for you. So yes, you are on the right path.”

The girl smiles, her energy relaxing.

“Well thank you for the visit, zhu. Your energy is very relaxing and a joy to be in your presence.”

“Thank you, Aiya. Please, take care”

Things begin to vibrate, and suddenly I’m falling, and now I’m back in my room

Wow! That was awesome! Alright so let’s jump in here with some notes. So first off, the name she gave me… Aiya. I wouldn’t give it too much mind, it is most likely a place-holder name that she gave me. You should never give out your real name in the astral/spirit world, it’s like giving away your identity; this is why I go by “zhu” in the astral. Also, getting names in the astral/spirit world is very difficult so I could be wrong about it.

The other very important thing about this reading… is the tree. Sometimes I bump into trees in my astral readings but I usually just pass them by, as they aren’t really that important, and usually actually just a part of the scenery. Sometimes trees in the astral aren’t inhabited by souls/aren’t spirits, especially in personal astral spaces. But in your case… when I passed by them, I just felt them so strongly… it appears that this tree is an ally of yours, keeping watch over you. I asked if it was your spirit guide, but I didn’t get a clear answer… but I think its’ very likely! Regardless, I think you should try and make contact with them, and speak with them yourself.

Thank you for the request! This was a very wonderful reading. Also, the tree called me “old one” which greatly surprised me… that was the first time I’ve been called that before. Anyways, I hope that this resonates!

Blessings!

#mine #readings #astral readings #paid readings #trees #about me #f

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imaginedilestrade · 6 years

Text

Surreal but nice- Part one

A/N: Okay so it's my birthday this week and to celebrate I've decided to do a 90's marathon! I was born in the 90's and I've incorporated some iconic 90's movies and tv shows into fics! 😁

Kicking off this week is 'Notting Hill' 😊it's a two parter! I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Warnings: Swearing, lil bit of angst.

It was a typical Wednesday for Greg, spending the day in the unsuccessful little travel bookshop that he ran in Notting Hill. His favourite part of the world.

Nothing extraordinary happened to him.

He wasn't successful, he was divorced- his wife left him for a Harrison Ford lookalike, he was living with his mad Irish roommate Jim and he was stuck in a rut.

"Can I get you a cappuccino?" Sherlock sent him a smile as they went over the books. Another month, another loss.

"Sure but make it a half," Greg tried to make light of the situation "Its all I can afford!" His laugh fizzled out. Sherlock nodded and left. Greg pondered over a thought again, a reoccurring one.

Nothing extraordinary happened to him.

That was until the bell above the door rang and he saw someone sneak into his bookshop. "Can I help you at all?" He called out to the person he couldn't see because they were behind a bookcase.

"No thanks..." Greg felt his breath hitch at the softness of the voice that lingered for a moment in his stuffy bookshop. Although, it made the shop a little more refreshing "I'll just have a look around."

Greg noticed that you were wearing a large pair of sunglasses and a dark jacket with the same colour of trousers and a crisp white shirt with shoes to match when you peered your head from around the bookcase.

Greg couldn't shift his gaze from you or form a sentence that was more than one word.

You walked around and grabbed a book, opening it and skimming over the page "That book isn't that great, but if it's Turkey you want to read about," he called out and you looked over your shoulder, noticing he was grabbing a yellowish book "I recommend this one." He cleared his throat and glanced between you and the book "I think the man has actually been to Turkey, which always helps. There is also an amusing incident with a kebab," you felt the corners of your mouth twitch upwards "One of many amusing incidents!"

"I'll think about it..." you hummed and turned around. Greg looked around to the monitor and let out a sigh, you watched as he went to the back of the shop and confront a man trying to steal a book by stuffing it into his trousers. When Greg returned you walked up to the desk with your book "I was going to steal a book but now I've changed my mind," you joked and Greg let it a small, nervous laugh "Signed by the author I see."

Greg glanced at the book "If you can find an unsigned one it would be worth a bloody fortune!" His remark made you chuckle. A moment later the same man who attempted to get away with a book down his trousers walked up to you.

"Can I have an autograph?"

You glanced up to Greg briefly before looking down at the desk and then to the man "Sure..." you sighed out. Greg could visibly see you stiffen and noticed the nerves in your eyes when you looked at him again to take the pen he was handing you. "What's your name?"

"Phillip, Phillip Anderson." You quickly scribbled on the piece of paper and handed it over to him with a thin smile. He read over it "What does it say?"

"Well that's my signature and above it, it says: 'Dear Phillip, you belong in jail."

"Good one," he uttered "Do you-do you want my phone number?"

You had to physically restrain yourself from laughing "Tempting, but no." He left after that and you handed the book over to Greg "I'll take this one." He rang it up for you and tossed in another for free. You took the bag off him with a smile and a thanks before leaving. Greg watched you exit the shop and disappear, he couldn't comprehend what had just happened. It was simply...extraordinary.

---

After downing the cappuccino Sherlock had got him, Greg popped out to the coffee shop to pick up a bite to eat as well as an orange juice for Sherlock. He left the cafe with a smile on his face as the sun shone down on him. It was a lovely day, made even better by seeing-

"Shit!"

He had collided into someone whilst daydreaming and spilled the orange juice all over someone's top. Your top. Although some did end up over him. He tried to wipe it off you but you jumped back "Get your hands off me! God!" You whined and looked down at the bright orange patch on your shirt. Greg offered for you to clean up at his house that was just across the road. With a defeated sigh, you accepted his offer.

He lead you over to the flat and pointed upstairs, explaining where everything was. As you want to change, he attempted to clean the flat a little bit. When Greg looked up a few minutes later you had changed into a completely different set of clothes and no one could have guessed that you were soaked in orange juice not even five minutes prior. Greg, being nervous yet hospitable, offered you a multitude of drinks and snacks, including the odd combination of apricots and honey. You said no to it all. "Do you say no to everything?" He asked.

You were about to answer almost instantly before your voiced hitched, a small smile played on your face as you replied "No." You watched him lean against the fridge "Thank you for your help."

"Not a problem and if I may," you raised a brow slightly "Can I just say that I think you are...heavenly. I probably won't get the chance to tell you ever again because you'll never return to my bookshop because those ones you got today are awful!" You couldn't help but lightly laugh as you made your way towards his front door. "It was nice to meet you...surreal but nice!" You sent him a small smile before he opened the door again and you left, disappearing out a door once again. "What was I thinking?" Greg muttered to himself as he walked away from the door. Seconds later, it rang. He opened it back up and you were standing there, you had forgot your books. Greg let you back in again and fetched your books.

"Thank you," you took them from him and then faced him, staring into those big brown eyes of his. You were drawn to them and gravitated towards them and his lips. Greg was taken by surprise feeling your soft, warm lips on his. He never expected anything like this to happen to him of all people. You both slowly pulled back and were left looking at each other again, burning your eyes into one another's. But your eyes diverted to the door when it suddenly opened and Greg's roommate walked in, completely passing the two of you and acting like there wasn't a thing out of place.

"I uh..." you watched as Greg's roommate vanished around the corner "I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone about this."

"Oh no of course not!" Greg assured "I'll tell myself sometimes but I won't believe it!" You couldn't help but smile at his disbelief and the way his cheeks had flushed a light pink colour. You left once again, leaving Greg in a hazy cloud of different emotions.

---

Over the next few days Greg ground himself thinking about you constantly. There wasn't a single second where he didn't think about you or that kiss.

Jim, being unbelievingly scatterbrained, told Greg that you had phoned-three days ago-under a fake name. Greg made his way to the Ritz with a bunch on sunflowers but when he arrived at your hotel room, someone was behind him. "Are you sure this is the right room?" He asked the man who nodded. Seconds later the door opened and a blonde woman invited them both in. With confusion riddled over his face he followed her into the room and found a multitude of other people waiting.

"What magazine are you from?" The woman asked.

"Uh..." Greg glanced about and said the first one he spotted on a table "'Horse and Hound'."

"Right..." she wrote it down on her notepad "Well she's waiting for you, I'll take you through Mr..."

"Lestrade, Greg Lestrade."

Greg entered another room and felt the air drain from his lungs seeing you by the window with a smile on your face. "You have five minutes," your agent made Greg jump, suddenly appearing behind the bookseller. You awkwardly smiled and extended an arm to the seat beside you, your agent kept walking in and out of the room.

"These are for you but," Greg glanced around the room, it was already engulfed in flowers "But I suspect you already have enough!"

"No!" You took them from Greg "They're lovely thank you." You placed them down and let out a small sigh "I'm sorry it has to be like this. I thought the press tour would be over. I'm also sorry I had to give you a fake name, I do it all the time when I'm in hotels. People know how to hunt you down!" You forced a laugh.

Greg opened his mouth to speak when your agent came in and raised a brow at him "Uhh so do you have many horses in this film?"

"Well..." you glanced over to your agent and noticed him lightly shaking his head "Not any at all, no."

"Why is that?"

"Because the movie is set in space..." the corner of your lip twitched upwards.

Your agent left again and Greg let out a sigh of relief "I'm absolutely balls at this!" As your agent appeared and reappeared, he kept asking you horse related questions, eventually Greg's time was up.

"It was nice to meet you," you shook Greg's hand, keeping up appearances "Surreal but nice."

Greg felt his lips curve into a smile. Your agent left again and Greg squeezed in one final question before he came back "Are you free tonight?"

You sadly smiled "No...sorry." You pulled your hand back and cleared your throat, your agent came back and led Greg away where he was unexpectedly taken away to interview other cast members. He didn't have a clue was he was doing at was making a fool out of himself in the process. The blonde haired woman Greg had met before called out his name again and he uttered out a protest under his breath, he really didn't want to interview another movie star. But he didn't. Instead he was lead to your room again "I'm not busy tonight."

"Y-you're not? But I thought you had plans?" Greg's brow crinkled with confusion.

"I cancelled them."

Greg widely smiled "Oh shit! It's my sisters birthday! I totally forgot!"

"That's okay," you reassured "I don't mind going."

"You want to go?" He pointed at his chest "With me?" He then pointed in a westward direction "To my sisters birthday?"

"Yes." You nodded with a growing smile "I'll be your date."

---

"Uh Y/N," Greg nervously introduced you to his friends and family "This is John and Mary. Dear friends of mine."

"Hello!" Mary smiled "It's funny you are the spitting image of-"

Greg cut her off "Y/N, this is Y/N..." Greg sent Mary a knowing glare. She shook your hand with a gaping smile. Greg lead you over to John who was in the kitchen "John this is Y/N."

"Well it's nice to meet you Y/N," he went to shake your hand before freezing, instantly recognising who you were "Y/L/N!"

"Nice to meet you too," you moved your hand forward and shook his hand before he pulled away to get the door. Greg's sister entered and as soon as she did, she gasped.

"Oh holy fuck!"

"Y/N, this is my little sister, Honey. Honey, this is Y/N." Greg formally intoduved the two of you. Honey was in a starstruck haze.

"I am such a huge fan! Massive fan! You are utterly amazing and I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world!" You bashfully smiled at her comment "I genuinely believe, and I have for some time now, that we are destined to be best friends. What do you think?"

You were a little taken aback but sent her a smile "Lucky me!"

The doorbell rang again amd John answered it "Mycroft's here!" Greg introduced you to Mycroft, he was oblivious to who you were. You spoke with him while Greg chatted with John and Mary.

"So what do you do?" He asked.

"I'm an actor, films mainly..." you replied with a small smile gracing your face.

"Must be tough, I know people who barely get seven thousand a year! How much did you make on your last movie?" Mycroft sipped on his wine.

"Fifteen million."

He choked on his Chardonnay "Well that's," he coughed "Fairly good..."

John announced that dinner was ready but before you sat, you wondered where the bathroom was. Honey happily lead you through. "I can't believe the girl you mentioned was Y/N Y/L/N!" Mary squeaked.

"Y/N Y/L/N?!" Mycroft repeated back and placed a hand on his head "Ohh god. Oh god I feel so stupid."

"I can't believe it," Honey returned "I just followed Y/N into the bathroom. She had to tell me to leave! I was still chatting to her as she was pulling down her zipper!" She giggled. You returned a few moments later and enjoyed the company of Greg and his friends and family over dinner.

---

You and Greg walked side by side down the streets of London "Do you want to uh..." Greg spoke up, you could hear the nerves in his voice "My place is just..." he trailed off and nodded towards the end of the street.

"Too complicated..." you sadly smiled and continued walking. You stopped when you noticed a gate "What's this?" Greg explained that it was a garden that the residents in the surrounding houses shared. It was locked and Greg didn't have a key. "Lets go in!" You couldn't help but bit down on your lip to control your smile as you climbed over the bars. Greg struggled whereas you jumped over with ease.

"Now what in the world in this garden could make that ordeal worth while!" Greg jogged up to you, catching his breath.

He was caught off guard when you crashed your lips against his, sharing a passionate kiss under the moonlight.

He shook his head and his lips curved into a smile "Nice garden."

You silently walked through the park, every so often Greg would say something that made you laugh or smile. He was enamouring to you, he truely was like no one you had ever met. And you liked that.

A few days later you had dinner with him, it was ruined by a group of men sitting behind the small partition wall who were making remarks about you. At first you tried to smile and laugh their comments away but they got worse and soon Greg couldn't take any more of it and stormed up to the table. You felt your heart swell as he attempted to fight for you, to stand up for you. The men were too ignorant and rowdy so you pulled Greg back and headed to the exit "Thank you for sticking up for me, I love that you tried. Someone had to put them in their place...in fact..." you stopped and turned around, making a beeline for the table. All the men gasped and quickly uttered out apologies "My friend is a little sensitive," you shot them all a fake smile. "I'm sure it was all banter and I'm sure you guys all have dicks the size of peanuts, anyway, have a good night!"

You turned and walked away, Greg hot on your heels. "That was amazing!"

"Ohh I shouldn't have said that! I should not have said that..." you mumbled. Greg walked you to your hotel and you both stood outside for a moment "What am I doing with you...?" Your head cocked to the side a little.

"I'm afraid I don't know..." Greg shrugged a shoulder with a half smile.

"Do you want to come up?" You rashly asked. Greg didn't know what to say at first but after a few minutes of internal deliberation, he agreed. "Give me five minutes!" You walked into the hotel and made your way to your room with a smile. It fell very quickly when you saw who was waiting for you.

Greg made his way to your room five minutes later and knocked on the door, you opened it and felt your stomach sink. "Hello again," he kiss your cheek.

"You have to leave..." you whispered with tears prickling your eyes. Before Greg could open his mouth to ask what was wrong, your boyfriend appeared.

"Finally, some room service!" He bellowed and your gaze fell to the ground "I wanted to be the best boyfriend ever and order some fruit or somethin' for Y/N. Only fruit though!" He laughed and jabbed your side. He always degraded and you hated it, you hated it even more that Greg was standing in front of you. You didn't want to drag him into this mess. "And take that trash when you leave!"

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a watery sigh "Greg, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say..."

Greg slumped his shoulders, disappointment clouding his face "I believe it's usually 'goodbye'." He couldn't even crack a sad smile.

He was heartbroken.

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

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PART TWO

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