#somehow this helps me focus when i’m on call with clients

[spamtonmusubi]

i’ve been doodling a lot while on the phone at work

#spamton #big shot era #musubi art #somehow this helps me focus when i’m on call with clients #anyway. kills him with my mind

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 5: Assumption of Risk 

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader 

Chapter Summary: There are no terms and conditions when it comes to a secret affair; you only know the risks. 

Warnings: 18+ content in this chapter, smut

A/N: I hope you like this chapter! I can't believe I just wrote it this afternoon, lol. I haven't written anything smutty in FOREVER so I hope this passes. Thank you all for reading this story :D

Chapter 4 here

Credit to the gif owner! 

Office of Nelson & Murdock

Hell’s Kitchen

4 PM

Assumption of risk: a plaintiff's inability to recover for the tortious actions of a negligent party in scenarios where the plaintiff voluntarily accepted the risk of those actions.

Matt Murdock was normally a very focused person, despite his ability to listen, feel, and sense things that could be distractions. It was easy to tune things out and focus on one thing at hand. Today, he used his Orbit reader to study case law regarding illegal money laundering. His fingers grazed over the braille before him, and his brows were furrowed in concentration. Ever since things with Fisk ended, Nelson & Murdock was able to take on more low-key clients and squash not-so-life-threatening issues. It was nice, to have a break from all of that. It truly felt like they were doing what they were always meant to do: help people using the law.

Of course, old habits never die. Daredevil was a part of who Matt was, whether he wanted it to be or not. He didn’t want to stop his nighttime activities anyway. Despite the city’s biggest threat being behind bars, there were still people who haunted it in his shadow; who wanted to continue to infect the city with their evil actions. Drug cartels, gangs, white-collar crimes—crime didn’t stop at Wilson Fisk.

And yet, after everything he’s endured, Matt thought something like this couldn’t hurt: being with you. Taking all of you in, in his senses. Showing up on your roof like clockwork. Stealing kisses and quiet conversations together, behind the mask. Except, Matt didn’t think he’d grow so attached in such a short amount of time. He had a hand in this fight now. You struck a match and it relit the fire in his heart.

Maybe, he would reveal himself to you. He’s done it before: Claire, Karen,… Elektra. Maybe finally you wouldn’t be the one who got away.

Even studying case law, you still occupied his mind so much. He could hear the way you gasped before he kissed you in his ears. The subtle hint of marshmallows in your fragrance was intoxicating to his senses. The way he had smelt another man on you…he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. Don’t think of that now. Your steady heartbeat he was beginning to memorize; how it sped up whenever you saw him and how it slowed down when he held you in his arms… he knew it so well, he could almost hear it now.

Wait. Literally.

And he could smell your fragrance growing stronger: that warm smell of marshmallows accompanied by your natural scent, getting closer.

And suddenly, you walked through the door of Nelson & Murdock.

Matt nearly lost his balance in his seat. His own heartbeat pounded in his ears as he gripped his desk in his office. He kept a cool exterior but listened intently to the main room. Did you know who he was? Did you figure it out somehow? Matt began rummaging for every explanation in his head, as lawyers do, and couldn’t come up with a memory of him accidentally revealing himself and what he does in the day to you.

He listened.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Karen spoke lightly as she stood from her desk, greeting you. Matt breathed slowly as he continued to listen.

“Hi, are you Ms. Page? My name is __. I’m here for my interview for the legal assistant position,” your voice, God, it was definitely you, spoke politely—a tone Matt wasn’t used to and for a moment was shocked to hear such a different side of you. If not for the circumstances, he might’ve smiled.

“Oh, yes!” Karen exclaimed in realization, “Yes, you can call me Karen. How are you? It’s so nice to meet you. Why don’t you find a seat in the conference room and I’ll see if Nelson or Murdock can join us,” Karen said. You thanked her and walked to the conference room, taking a seat in the middle of the table. Matt heard you rummage through your bag and pulled out a folder.

“Hey, Foggy? The applicant’s here. You wanna do this interview with me?” Karen asked Foggy who was furiously typing away a summation.

“Ah, can’t. I’m on a roll to pin this fraudulent employer and if I stop now, we might lose,” Foggy said. “Ask Matt. I think his task list is light today.”

No, it’s fucking not, Matt thought to himself. Matt wanted to punch himself. Of course, the applicant had to be you. He knew you were a pre-law student, but there are tons of those in the city—you just happened to be the one who applied to his firm. Matt laughed in spite of himself—fate struck once again, between you two. Why?

“Matt,” Karen peeked her head into his office sounding hurried, “you have to do this interview with me.”

“Oh, no,” Matt argued nervously, “I—you can do it yourself. I have to read up on this case law and—-“

“Case law can wait. Potential employees and the future of this firm, cannot. Please join me, I think she’ll be a good one,” Karen pleaded. Matt sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe what he was getting himself into.

“Okay,” Matt replied, defeated. “But you’re leading the conversation.”

Karen scrunched her brows at him, wondering why he was acting the way he was. She shrugged it off and joined you in the conference room.

Matt prepared himself as he grabbed his cane from his desk, slowly undoing it. He cracked his neck and took a deep breath. He tapped his way to the conference room and slowly opened the door.

He was immediately hit with your qualities again, and if he hadn’t been dressed as Matt Murdock, the lawyer, he would’ve melted right there. Your marshmallow scent warmed his nose. You were in a button-down shirt and black pants. He could tell by the minor sweat that stuck to your skin—it was out hot today. He heard you tense when he walked in. Your heartbeat grew fast—interview nerves, he confirmed. He gave a small smile and sat down next to Karen uncomfortably.

Matt couldn’t blow his cover. He had to act as if he’d never met you in his life before.

Karen cleared her throat, urging Matt to speak. She held papers in her hands—probably from the folder you pulled out.

“Sorry—I’m Matthew Murdock, one of the lawyers here,” Matt held out his hand awkwardly for you to shake. When you took it, it took all his strength to not shiver at your touch. Your hands… the same ones he held at midnight, the same ones he’s felt touch his cheek, the same ones he’s pinned above your head before…

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Murdock,” you answered politely, giving his hand a good shake. Your voice… the same voice he’s heard in whispers. Your mouth, speaking… the same ones he’s kissed, just last night. Focus, Murdock. “I—I didn’t know you were blind. I would have tried to get my resume and transcript translated to braille.”

Matt raised his eyebrows—not many people were forward about his disability. He appreciated your forwardness, and he was surprised at how professional you were. Not that he didn’t think you could be, but it was strange to see a different version of you. It was like meeting you all over again in an alternate universe. He supposed you’re technically seeing a different version of him, but you don't know it.

“That’s all right,” Matt replied after a moment, “that’s why I have Karen. Among other things—she’s more than an office manager, and you’ll learn that soon.”

He didn’t have to see Karen to know she was smiling.

“So, even just glancing at your transcript, it’s very impressive,” Karen stated, flipping through pages. “3.9 GPA, Honor Society—you just graduated? Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you answered. “Yeah, you know, fresh out the cap and gown.”

“And I see you took some journalism classes, too? Did you want to do that before studying law?”

“I did. I loved journalism and I’m actually familiar with your work at the Bulletin. Your stories on Fisk and pretty much everything you’ve done,” you explained. Matt listened carefully to see if you were lying in this interview—you weren’t.

“Wow,” Karen blushed, “thank you, I appreciate that. So why did you switch to law?”

“I think journalists and lawyers can do a lot of good for people. I also think they can do a lot of damage to people. I know journalism pretty well, but I want to do extra steps and know the law and how to use that to people’s advantage,” you explained. Your heartbeat was still beating fast, but you managed to keep your voice steady.

“You’re studying for the LSAT now?” Karen asked.

“Yes,” you said, “I just began this summer.”

“What do you do in your free time?”

Matt knew you were thinking of an answer.

“I mostly spend my weekends at home,” you lied, Matt knew. He suppressed his smile. “I’m not one for going out, so if you ever need me on a weekend, I’m there.” That was half a lie and half-truth.

“We try not to, but lately we’ve been getting so many cases, we've had to come in on a Saturday. It’s not often,” Karen explained. “What was your favorite pre-law class?”

“Legal research and writing,” you answered, truthfully. “I love writing and creating arguments.” That I know, Matt thought.

“That could definitely be useful around here. Matt and Foggy are always drafting summations,” Karen said. “I don't think I have any questions. Matt, do you?”

Matt cleared his throat. He supposed he should ask one question.

“What do you value in a place of work?” He asked.

After a moment of pondering, you spoke again.

“The truth, I think,” you answered, “if an employer isn’t transparent on one thing, how can you believe anything else? I think it’s important to remember everyone’s on the same side. You’ve got to trust each other.”

Matt nodded in response. He didn’t know what to say.

“Alrighty,” Karen wrapped it up, “thank you so much for coming in. It was a pleasure to speak with you. You’ll be hearing from us very soon.”

The three of you stood up and you shook Karen’s hand, thanking her. Matt uncomfortably took a deep breath and held out his hand for your handshake. It was hard for him to not let his touch linger like he always did with you.

“Thank you again,” You said rather softly. Karen walked you out as Matt stood in the conference room alone, hands on his waist. He sighed and shook his head.

“We are definitely hiring her,” Karen came back in the room. “I think she’ll be really great here.”

“Don’t we have other applicants? We should interview them first,” Matt argued.

“Matt, that posting has been up for weeks now. She was the only one. We are going with her. Were you not impressed with her answers?”

“She lied about something,” he said, grasping at straws. He didn’t worry you’d find another law firm to work out.

Karen crossed her arms, looking at him annoyed. “What did she lie about?”

“That she doesn’t party. I heard her heartbeat,” Matt answered, knowing it was a weak argument. Karen laughed.

“What, and you didn’t party in college? C’mon Matt,” Karen punched his shoulder lightly. “Why are you so against it?”

“I’m not,” Matt chuckled nervously, “I—“

“We’re hiring her. Overruled, whatever it was you were about to say. I’ll let Foggy know and draft her offer letter.”

Before he could answer her, Karen already left him standing there.

Fate wasn’t clever, Matt thought. It was cruel.

Hell’s Kitchen

11 PM

Matt sat at the top of his roof in his black outfit, waiting for someone to scream for help. He waited for any sign of a crime taking place, any cop cars going off, anything. And all that he was met with was silence and his thoughts of you.

He could’ve argued more to not let Karen hire you. He didn’t. He could’ve said you lied about everything. He didn’t.

Just when he was about to reveal himself to you, the interview today ruined it. How could he now, after that? Hey, it’s nice to see you again. By the way, I’m your new boss. He ran every possible scenario in his head and none of them made sense to him. Would you be mad, if you found out it was him? Creeped out? He didn’t want this to affect your career goals. He heard you call your friend, Emily, immediately after the interview. You were so excited. You knew you nailed the interview, and truthfully, you did.

Would it be better to keep this a secret? He was already living a double life—now he had to live it twice as hard with you.

Nothing was going on tonight.

He ripped off his mask and began to walk back to his rooftop access when you crossed his mind. Hell, you didn’t even cross it anymore. The thought of you was always there, Matt thought.

He knew what he was getting himself into, by being two different people with you. Nothing, not even himself, could’ve stopped him from putting his mask back on and finding his way to your rooftop.

He made his decision.

Hell’s Kitchen

11:30 PM

You didn’t know if he’d come, but you always waited at your rooftop in case he did. There wasn’t a set schedule for when you and Mike would see each other, you just did. You snuck out a short while ago when you knew everyone was asleep. You shivered as you waited patiently. You were in your nightdress and an oversized cardigan. You pulled out your phone and re-read the offer of employment letter Karen had sent you hours ago. You often did this when something excited you. You couldn’t wait to start working at Nelson & Murdock.

Maybe Mike was busy tonight. Just as you were about to call it, you heard a familiar thud on your roof. You walked over and there he was, all in black, face covered, as usual. You smiled and locked your phone as you made your way to him.

You were about to greet him, but he pulled you in immediately for an embrace. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and took a deep breath.

“It’s nice to see you too,” You laughed softly, pulling back. He rested his hands at the small of your back. “Rough night?” You asked in concern. Despite all your meetings with him so far, you never really realized the fact he put his life in danger every night, and it wasn't a guarantee he’d make it to your rooftop.

“No,” he answered. “Just wanted to see you.”

Your heart melted when he said. Maybe there was hope after all, for the two of you. Maybe you were more than just his secret.

“You seem off,” you urged politely, “are you okay?”

He was silent. You furrowed your brows.

“Is it the Catholic guilt?” You smirked, which at the very least, made him laugh a little.

“You could say that,” he said.

“I’m no priest, but if you haven’t done anything wrong, then you shouldn’t feel guilty,” you whispered. Mike tilted his head slightly as you spoke. He smiled a little.

“You make it sound easier than any priest I’ve ever heard speak on guilt,” he said.

“This isn’t confession,” you began, “but you know you can tell me anything, right? And I won’t tell.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“I mean, I haven’t told anyone about us.”

“I know.”

“And you probably haven’t either.”

“I haven’t.”

“So what’s wrong?” You urged.

Mike seemed to ignore the question.

“Tell me about your day, instead.”

“Well, I got a job today. At a law firm. I’m really excited.”

“That's good,” he whispered. “What else?”

“I had a low-key day otherwise,” you said, “just waited for tonight. For you.”

“Hmm,” he kissed you. He placed his hand on the back of your neck.

He didn’t stop kissing you.

~~~

Matt threw his thoughts of doubt away. With you in front of him, the anxieties about you disappeared. It was funny, how it worked like that. The thing that brought him the most anxiety is the thing that could calm him down. Being in your presence. It’s like, he’s more himself when he’s behind the mask, with you.

Matt continued kissing you, his kisses turning more urgent, desperate. Now that he wasn’t Matt Murdock, the lawyer… A.K.A., your new boss, could let his thoughts about you run free in his mind. It took everything in him today, at the conference table, to not melt at your touch. To not let his sinful thoughts cloud his mind. To not think of all the nights he’s been with you, kissing you in a dark alley.

Now, he could. It was just the two of you. That’s how he liked it.

You placed your hands on his chest and gripped her shirt, pulling him closer. He walked you to the side of the door of the rooftop access, pushing you against the wall. His tongue teased your bottom lip as if asking permission to enter. You obliged. Your tongues met desperately, and he kissed you harder. So hard, it was as if you’d disappear if he stopped.

You pulled back, breathlessly.

“I’m not drunk,” you told him. He kissed your jaw.

“I know,” he said.

“Last time you said you wouldn’t touch me because I was drunk,” you explained, “I’m not drunk right now.”

Matt smirked. Using his own words against him. He wasn’t going to argue.

“Silk,” he simply stated as he gripped your waist. He felt your silk nightdress under your cardigan. "I love silk.”

“I didn’t wear it for you but I guess that works in my favor,” you smiled.

“It’s soft,” he whispered, his nose grazing your cheek. “But not as soft as you.” Matt swung your left leg around him, so you stood on your right. He held you in place against the wall as you firmly wrapped your leg around his waist. He made a low sound in your ear. He could feel your heart rapidly beat in your chest. You weren’t nervous. You were aroused. And your sex, between your legs, he knew was throbbing, and wet. He could sense it in the air. He took a deep breath as he reached his fingers underneath your silk dress and ran them along your stomach.

You shuddered at his touch, as you felt his hands trace you. He teasingly grabbed the lace of your thong and pulled it so it lightly smacked you. Matt slowly worked his way up to your breasts and felt the soft curves of them. He took one of them in his hand completely as he continued to hold your leg around him.

“So soft,” he whispered, “and mine.”

“All yours,” you said with a shaky breath.

He moved his hand to squeeze the other one in a kneading motion.

“Tell me to stop,” Matt hushed.

“You won’t hear that from me,” you said.

Slowly, he reached his hand down to your wetness. He had to take a deep breath himself as he felt your wetness twitch at his touch. He felt how soft you were and fully put his palm over your sex. He took his pointer finger it moved it up your slit, onto your clit.

“Oh,” you let slip out. You rubbed yourself urgently on him. Matt held you still.

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked. He knew the answer by your soft moan in response. He pushed one finger into your tightness and listened carefully to how you reacted. Breath hitched. Her heart skipped a beat. You spread your legs even more as he kept going in an in-and-out motion, getting faster and curving with each move. He slid a second finger in you and began to rapidly thrust inside your wetness. You held your breath.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Matt whispered.

Listening to his command, you let out a loud, salacious breath as you held onto his shoulder. Matt kissed your neck as his fingers continued to work on your wetness. He was pounding his fingers inside you, hitting your sweet spot each time. And each time he felt him hit your sweet spot, you moaned, like a chant.

“Oh, God,” you said in a weak voice. “Oh my, God. Oh, oh, oh.”

He felt your sex tighten around his fingers.

“Keep making sounds in my ear,” Matt ordered. Your moans sounded like a prayer in his ears. He closed his eyes, as his fingers swam in your wetness. He wanted you to be louder.

His thumb found your clit, and you shivered against him with a moan.

“Oh, God,” you pleaded, “Yes. Keep going, Mike—oh, my—“

“I want you to come for me, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” Matt urged you as he swiped his thumb gently over your sensitive clit.

At the final swipe, you completely shivered against his body and held onto him so tightly, Matt knew you left scratches on his back. He knew you were riding the waves of pleasure he sent you in as you kept grinding against him, even after your climax. He felt your heart beating against his chest as you collapsed into him, letting your leg fall. Matt immediately held you against him, burying his face in your neck. You finally caught your breath.

“Well,” you began, “let me return the—“

“No,” Matt contended. “Just you.”

“What?”

“That was for me, as much as it was for you,” He whispered. He caught your lips in a kiss. You melted into his touch and shook your head.

"This is bad now,” you said. Matt furrowed his brows.

“What is?”

You laughed ironically and shook your head.

“Not only are you trusting and you make me feel safe, and you’re hot,” you began, “but you’re a total fucking sweetheart.”

Matt laughed.

“No, that’s what I call you.” He kissed you and held you tighter.

“Mike?” You asked him. Matt paused. “I like this. What we have,” you said.

“I know. I do, too,” Matt answered. He tilted his head, wondering your meaning.

“And that’s still not enough for you, to take off your mask?”

He was quiet. He shook his head.

“I will. When it’s safer, and I know my enemies,” Matt explained, which wasn’t an entire lie. When Foggy and Karen found out about his secret, their lives were in danger for a few years. Evil was still out there, and he couldn’t risk you falling victim to what they went through. That part was true.

He knew you didn’t like his answer by the soft breath you huffed.

“Listen,” he spoke softly, “there are people who know who I am, and they almost got killed for it. I—I can’t let that happen to you. Please understand that,” Matt begged, placing his fingers on your jaw.

“I will,” you said, “for now. But you should know that if I know the risks, that’s on me,” you stated. “Not on you.”

“No,” Matt argued, “it is on me. That’s my weight to carry. I’m not arguing this further.”

“Okay,” you digressed.

“I have something for you,” Matt said. He reached into his pocket and found the burner phone he once gave to Claire. He placed it in your hands and wrapped your fingers around it.

“What is this, for booty calls?” You laughed.

“For when you need me,” Matt said.

“What if I always need you?” You purred as you kissed his jaw. Matt smiled.

“For when you need me when you’re in danger,” he corrected, “God forbid.”

“I’ll keep it with me all the time,” you told him. “Thank you.”

He could hear how tired you were, and if he remembered correctly, tomorrow was your first day at Nelson & Murdock.

“Go to sleep,” Matt whispered. “I’ll see you… tomorrow night.”

“Goodnight, my guardian angel,” you whispered.

“I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me an angel,” Matt said.

“It’s more fitting, in my opinion.”

When you went down to your room, Matt crunched at the corner of the rooftop and waited for you to crawl into bed. You put the burner phone in the drawer of your nightside table. He heard you scroll through your regular phone for a few minutes until you eventually fell asleep.

Perhaps, the risks of all this would be worth the outcome, whatever that may be.

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #blind faith #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #the defenders #daredevil born again #idk what else to tag lol #Matt Murdock x you #matt murdock fic #matt murdock imagine #daredevil imagine #marvel one shot #matthew murdock

[phoebeprufrock]

Ok so Some Thoughts™️ in random order, under the tag for spoilers

The flash forwards

I find it kinda funny that a lot of people have been clamoring about how Midge is a terrible mother only to now complain about her kids not liking her lol personally I don’t think Midge is a bad mother as much as she’s a mother of her time, but then again… there’s plenty of gen Xers who have the same exact relationship to their mothers, so to me that’s fairly realistic — although realism is not why I watch this show, so it feels very tonally different so far.

The kids

I LOVE that Esther has so much of her mother’s mannerisms but all of Abe and Noah’s professional/academic inclinations - and conversely, how Ethan has Noah’s calm personality but completely different inclinations (I wonder if it comes from Joel’s side of the family and his closeness to his paternal grandparents? The Weissmans are not as devout as the Maisels — or maybe Ethan spent a lot of time with Noah and Astrid?)

I don’t know whether we had a spoiler for it and I forgot about it or whether it was in a fic and I also forgot about it, but it made sense somehow to see Ethan in Israel studying to become a rabbi; I can’t explain it but I watched and thought, “ah, of course”. I liked it.

It’s really sad to see them this kind of relationship with Midge honestly, I hope the flash forwards do advance the future plot as well and we get some kind of resolution between them.

What We Got Right

@alixinwwonderland !!!! I positively SQUEALED out loud when I saw the scene about the clothes auction, you absolute genius called a focus on Midge’s clothes MONTHS ago and it filled me with so much joy to see it onscreen. It brought up very fond memories of your fic, it was amazing 🥹

Also I absolutely loved how similar the show’s storyline about Midge getting hypothermia reminded me of @wonderlandleighleigh ‘s Midge getting injured in Fashionable People. It serves a purpose as a reckoning moment for Midge to reassess her life and take in Lenny’s words, and I very much liked it both in the fic and in the show.

I also personally felt vindicated in seeing Rose getting Susie/her goons to help her with the matchmakers mafia, it was hilarious and I am absolutely loving how enmeshed Susie is getting with the Weissmans (also her knowing about Zelda’s boyfriend was just absolutely chef’s kiss).

Also, I think we all pretty much saw it coming that Mei wouldn’t keep the baby and she would go on to become a doctor - idc if they meant for the storyline to go there or if it’s just because of Stephanie Hsu being ridiculously booked, but I am so happy they wrote it in and she’s happy and becoming a doctor (more on this later).

Oh yeah and I almost forgot, Gordon Ford is a dick and we’ve been saying it. Nice

Midge And Susie

This is……. Painful.

I almost cried when Midge apologized to Susie, and also later when she talked to Alfie about how great Susie is. For them to reconnect and make peace is the main thing I wanted out of this season, and their dynamic in the present is so nice and it’s amazing to see, I had missed seeing them being friends and I am so heartwarmed to see it happening.

But…………….. I honestly don’t even WANT to acknowledge the flash forward and that they are not friends, let alone client and manager, anymore. It’s just too painful, the story has been about Midge and Susie as much as it’s been about Midge and comedy, and I’m really, really sad. Again, I just hope the future timeline continues on and we get a resolution between them as well.

Midge

Midge in the present: amazing beautiful I am giving her a hug and cheering for her

Midge in the future: I am holding my judgment until I find out exactly what is going on. I don’t think they would butcher her character like that without a valid reason, I am hoping it all will make sense in a sort of poetic justice way. (Although I will say that her outfits are still bomb, good for her)

The Families

If there is one thing I will never get tired of, it’s Moishe and Shirley’s antics. The thanksgiving meal was a delight (Abe, I love you) and the two of them at the Button Club were everything I didn’t know I needed. And their reconciliation was so sweet to see.

Speaking of sweet… I just about melted when Abe and Rose went out to dinner and she opened up to him (also they were wearing matching outfits and I just. CANT TAKE IT 😭). I really hope nothing happens to them as a couple because they are just too precious.

Also NOAH AND ASTRID my beloved 💕💕💕💕 I was so happy to see them again and if they’re in every upcoming episode they will not be onscreen enough.

Midge and Lenny

Yeah I kept this for last because I just cannot handle the absolute hurt of that scene. I am in shambles still.

Just - the absolute vulnerability between them, the soft fucking way they spoke to each other, the mutual acknowledgement… it was heartbreaking to see them go their separate ways (temporarily, I hope), and yet there was just SO MUCH LOVE between them, so much tenderness despite it all. And Midge’s callback to him being a man with a lease was so good because there was no flirting anymore, just fondness and so much emotion. That “what is grief if not love persevering” quote was made for that moment, their scene together was just so beautiful and sad at the same time. I needed it to last at least twenty minutes longer.

Final conclusions and other thoughts

Yeah, this season so far has a very different tone from the previous - I think we got a hint of how sad the writers could go with Moishe’s medical emergency last season, and I think we can expect more of that intensity going forward. I appreciate the shit to a more dry, cutting type of humor and more serious topics from a writing perspective, and I think they’re doing it well, but I’m not sure how much I’m enjoying it in the context of the show and of what I wanted to see. I didn’t think they would go the abortion route with Mei’s baby, and I especially didn’t think they would write it off so quickly; it makes me worry about what else they will write off quickly.

Also, I need Imogene. Why do we have no Imogene. A disgrace I tell you.

These were my thoughts for now but there will most likely be more coming, and I cannot wait for the next episode

#tmmm #tmmm spoilers #tmmm s5 #the marvelous mrs maisel spoilers #the marvelous mrs. maisel #you guys I’m so happy to be back #the season can suck and I won’t even care because I’ve just missed being on here and talking about it so much #(no but for real I don’t think this season is bad as much as it’s just different and I’m enjoying it so far)

[phawareglobal]

Dawn Clarke - phaware® interview 455

Pulmonary hypertension patient, Dawn Clarke, a resident of the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation in Southern Ontario. Despite her rare disease diagnosis, Dawn decided to focus on her mental health and explore her creative passions. She emphasizes the importance of looking after all aspects of one's well-being, including physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health. She encourages others to find their purpose and make positive changes in their lives, even in the face of challenges. 

My name is Dawn Clarke. I am currently residing on the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation, Hagersville, Southern Ontario. This is my mother's homestead, where she's come from. She's indigenous. My father is from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. He is non-indigenous or what we used to call him, Caucasian. I grew up in the military life, my father was in the military. My mom was quite young when she had me and got with my dad and started moving around to different places. Life at the beginning was a little complicated for me. Both parents were strict and that's how my upbringing was with all the things that go along with that. So I became a really quiet person. I should start off too by saying that I did a have congenital heart defects and heart surgery at four months of age. Incidentally, my parents were not at the surgery, so they were about two hours away when I did my surgery. They were back home.

They didn't have a vehicle, so I had no parent there at hospital during my open heart surgery. I did find out about that years later. I believe that there's a lot of childhood traumas that help lead up to the health of where people are now into adulthood. That was something that I had to deal with. So I did get surgery at infancy. I had intended on joining the military. I had actually passed all my testing. I did really well. The only thing I was waiting for was a phone call to say, "Okay, it's basic training time, let's go." For some reason, that call never came. 

I ended up going to school from nursing. When my children were one and a half and three and a half, I ended up going into nursing school. It was quite difficult to say the least as a single mom, single parent, and going through nursing school. Somehow we made it through though. With the help of family and relatives, we did get through that. But after a number of years, I had been really kind of wondering about doing mental health work. I did dabble in some training here and there with the mental health field, but it was kind of something that my brain was always wanting to lean towards. 

A few years ago, I started developing shortness of breath. I was down in weight compared to where I had been for a lot of my adult life, probably about 180 pounds, which is still overweight for a short person. I started getting symptoms when I was working as a nurse. Weight started coming on again. I thought, "Oh, must not be as active as I was before." I was getting a high blood pressure readings, and that had never been an issue before. So even with my cardiac history, I had still been fairly healthy. 

I had been trained to do palliative care nursing, so I was seeing a lot of palliative care patients. I got to the point where my troubles with my breathing became more of an issue, especially to the clients than they were… me coming in, trying to get up the stairs to see them, sitting down and taking a couple of minutes to catch my breath, at a point where I was starting to bring my oxygen in with me to do the stairs or to get from point A to point B to their rooms or anywhere to see them.

By this point, I had gotten quite bad. I finally decided I just can't do this anymore. I'm going into houses that are difficult to maneuver around, also into smoky houses that I always despise smoke, cigarette smoke, and having to take care of myself in front of patients before I could care for them. It was just getting to be way too much. The physical maneuvering of patients became very difficult and I just couldn't keep up anymore.

On top of these things. I also have scoliosis, and it's something that I was diagnosed with when I was 12. So between my back and the pain, between the weight gain and the shortness of breath, it just became very difficult to move people, to turn people to do any things that they needed to get down on the floor to do leg and feet dressings, if they happen to be sitting on a couch, for example.

Yeah, it just became too much. I tried to push further, but I just couldn't. Mentally, I was starting to deteriorate as well. I knew there was something wrong by this point, and I hadn't quite got the diagnosis yet of PH, but it did soon come after pushing and trying to get in to see a doctor.

I think I was diagnosed in June of 2019. I went off work July of 2019. Probably for the next year I was wearing oxygen pretty much 24/7. Sitting in a chair, so where I am now, just maneuvering myself around became quite difficult and caused me a lot of shortness of breath. It was to the point where, "All right, I don't think I can do this anymore." So I had to give that up, give that role up. I did not give up my nursing license, I still have it, but I am now on... What's the term? Non-practicing. So I'm a non-practicing registered nurse. 

I decided to hold onto that because it was a big part of me. It's a big part of my life. It was a great accomplishment for me to get through schooling and having two little ones at home as a single mom. It was something that was really hard to register in my brain that you can't do what you've been doing, but I'm hanging on to this because I knew still at that point, even though everything kind of took a dive down, including my mood and everything else, my look on life, my outlook and the uncertainty, it took a huge chunk out of my wellbeing.

I decided at some point, probably within that first year, "Well, okay, what can I do? I know that I have been thinking about changing careers. I've been thinking about giving up at least the physical part of nursing." There was something still calling me to the mental health world. Well, I started acrylic painting and I sang. I had sang for many years and I liked writing, and that's most of my life, as well. Not that I did a lot of it, but I did like it. And one of my goals since I was a teenager was to write a book, which I still haven't done, but I've started a couple of things.

I've written a few little things, poems. I have a long poem. Those kinds of things all mean a lot to me as who I am as a person. I decided at some point along the way, I'm going to somehow combine the creative things with the mental health and the background of nursing and help other people on their journeys and their wellbeing, as well. 

That became my focus. Not to say that every day is easy or that I can focus on these things every single day. There are still difficulties. I managed to change my viewpoint and my outlook on life and my perception of life, and I managed to change those things to a positive light and decided you can still live. You don't have to lay back and wait to die because what is the purpose of everything that I've done and everything I've wanted to be?

I always, always felt like I had a deeper purpose in life. Some people are good getting their purpose fulfilled through looking after their family or through working in a community, and that's enough. But there's something more that I'm meant to give. I'm still not 100% sure what it is, but I think I'm finally going down the path now. I decided to paint. There was a year, I think between 2019 and 2020 that I really didn't do much of anything, but I think that was my angry year. That was my diagnosis year. It was my spot that made me take a look at my life and decided to change my path. I could lay back and die. Life's over for me, boohoo. I know that's a lot of us. That's where we are. That's where we have been or we're getting to that point. But there is a point where you can take control of what you can. 

I had to look at my blessings. So I had to look at, I have my sons. At that time they were both home with me. I have one still home now. I have my mom, my dad, my sister. Even though I still had a lot of traumas to deal with, which I was currently working through and still am, those people were still close to me and important to me. I was now around my mom's family, side of the family. They were a huge support.

I felt like I couldn't quite leave this area and move away, because I thought about moving down east many times, but I had to use what I could. Also because of being from First Nation's community, I thought there's so much I can do. So I'm going to combine all the things I know and put them into a wellness journey for other people. I'm still not 100% sure what that's going to look like, but I have done many paint parties, you might call them. A lot of them are workshops. I get hired by organizations mostly for say, a personal paint party. Probably 95% of what I have done has been organizational workshops. I'll get people thinking about positive things, so what do they want for themselves that day or that week or month, or what would they like to wish for somebody else?

It could be someone they don't necessarily like so much. What do you wish for that person or yourself? Think of one word or a symbol. It could be a heart. It could be anything and you put that down on the backside of your canvas. You write happiness or love, unconditional love. Anything that you can think of or a heart or a star or anything and that's going to be your focus during that painting. The painting session, you go forward with that thought in your mind. We really try to keep negative thinking out of it because it's very, very easy for all of us to think negatively and go, "Oh, I'm terrible at this," and oh my goodness, there's always negative that we can throw to ourselves. We really try to take that out of the equation and just keep everything to a positive as much as we can. 

I would say that normally it does work and it helps most people to stay in a more positive mindset. Thinking positively, looking after my mental health that's been a huge, huge component of my wellbeing. Continuing to be in therapy because therapy can be for everyone, not just seriously ill people. It keeps us on track. That has helped me by looking after the mental health piece, my emotional piece, my spiritual piece, and my physical. We know that physical and mental health and emotional, spiritual all go together. We can't look after one and not the rest. We can't expect to do well in one and expect everything else to catch up. We've got to purposely look after all of those domains. I find by doing that and keeping myself in check with my mental health as well, even my spiritual health. By spiritual health, I mean even things like connecting to nature. Learning how to connect with nature. Learning how to breathe. Learning how to be calm and maybe put yourself in a better place. 

That becomes really easy to do once you've done it a bunch of times. You may need to focus and push yourself to do it at first, but eventually it's just an amazing place to be. So with meditating, learning how to focus, we can do so much for ourselves. People need to start looking at that, giving themselves that gift because it's there. It is in all of us to do. So by looking at all those domains and looking after each one, we do better for our physical health, as well. My physical being has improved. My breathing has improved. My energy level has improved. My focus is starting to improve a little more, because that's been very difficult to do.

But all in all, if you look after all of those things in your life, you become a better version of yourself. You start to see the world in a positive light again, and not think so much about how much life I have left. I still do think of that sometimes or, "When am I going to die," or, "What's the purpose? If I'm going to be gone in a year or 10 years or five years?" The purpose is because you need to be here now. You need to be here. You're on this earth. You have purpose. You can take from everything that happens to you in your life and pull it in and switch it around, bam, put it out as something that you can do for yourself and for other people. That was my choice. It's not to say that I don't ever struggle with my mood or with triggers or anything that comes up in my life, but I need to know how to come out of that.

With everything I've learned through somatic therapy, through there's a thing called FIT. It's focused intention technique. I learned how to do that, as well. There is training for that. It's something you can use on yourself, and it's something you can use to help other people. Give yourself the gift, I'll use that word again, the gift of life. You get to go forward in the way you want to, in the way that you can. Just do it in whatever way you're able to. If you look after all the pieces of yourself, it gets easier. I guess that would be the biggest thing is transforming my life to meet the needs of not just myself, but others as well. But there came a time where I had to look after just myself, and that was fine. I decided that's okay. This is what I need to do. 

My last job was helping to kill me. It was helping to dive me down lower in depth, because I wasn't able to focus on myself and my needs. That really woke me up. It made me go, "Yep, I guess I have to listen to myself now and listen to my body. It's telling me things and do something about it. Don't just keep pushing it back. Do something about it." I ended up having to move from where I was. My rent was going up a little higher every year. I could no longer afford to live there, because I wasn't working, at least not getting a nursing income. So my sons and I had to move. Thank goodness for our First Nation. They had been building a new set of townhouses and one had just been completed. We were lucky enough to get to move into that right at the time I was running out of money from whatever resources I could get it from.

We moved in here. The rent is significantly lower. I know not everybody has that opportunity, but it enabled me to start looking at what I wanted in life instead of worrying about the financial piece. So even if it's a matter of you have to move in with someone or a relative or something where you might not have as much, you might have to give up some things, which I did, but at least it got me thinking about my life again and having a purpose. So that's where I am now. 

My name is Dawn Clarke, and I'm aware that I'm rare.

Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Follow us on social @phaware Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate #phaware Share your story: [email protected] @phacanada 

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#pulmonary hypertension #phaware #rare disease #lung disease #clinical trials #podcast #PH #asthma

[emergentrelationshipcenter]

Are You Are A Slow Runner Who Has A Bad Relationship? If You Wish Both Of Those Things Were Different, Then Read This Article And Learn The Secret To Transform Both.

I recently read an article titled, “Do you think you run slow? Why being slow doesn’t matter,” written by Jeff Gaudette, founder of the website Runner’s Connect. At first, I thought it was really great for so many athletes who obsess about how slow they are or who criticize their efforts rather than giving themselves credit. Then later, while on a run, I thought about how the main concepts of this article mirrored my own approach to couples who want to create a better relationship.

My takeaway from this article was that there is a huge advantage in thinking positive.

According to Gaudette, most of his athletes show up to train saying two things: “I’m too slow” or “You won’t be able to help me.” Later, when thinking about this article, I thought, wow, that’s what most of my couples say or probably think. They either think that the relationship is terrible or that they cannot do anything to change it. They also compare their relationship to what they see on television or see on Facebook. Do people really share their struggles on social media? My guess is no — similar to how runners only post their highlight reels.

Gaudette goes on to say that he found that the speed of the athlete didn’t matter. Rather, they all struggled with the fear they were not good enough, which in turn, lead to self-deprecating comments and negative self-talk. His solution — the power of positive thinking. I really like this! In fact, it’s similar to what I say to my clients.

From a purely performance perspective, Gaudette says negative thinking negatively affects results. An athlete who has positive self-talk or thinking outperforms those who go into a workout with negative or self-critical thinking. He goes on to say running is the same, no matter how fast or slow you are. This means there is no difference between the runner who breaks 30 minutes for a 5k or the person who runs a 15-minute 5k. Gaudette says there is always someone faster.

So how does this relate to improving your relationship?

First, similar to sports performance, the way you think greatly affects your relationship. If you think your partner is lazy, doesn’t show affection, or doesn’t communicate well, then you start to act as if it’s true. It’s called a “self-fulfilling prophesy.” You might have heard of it. When you think something will happen, then you start to behave as if it did and then that behavior actually makes it happen. Whether you think you are a slow runner or have a bad marriage, you can make it happen!

Something to think about.

Have you ever had someone do or say nice things to you? How does it make you feel? My guess is that you feel good and want to be around them. It somehow even shifts your mood. That’s because positivity feeds off itself. The same is true about negativity. If your partner were to write you a note, bring you a cup of coffee, or go out of their way to do something nice for you, that would be a good thing! What effect would it have on you? What if you set the example and did something nice first?

Learn how to cultivate unshakeable mental toughness to save your relationship.

The next time you start to think about how terrible your relationship is or how everyone has a better relationship, you might do yourself a favor by thinking about what you can do about it and shift your focus. What you think about grows. Instead of doing or saying something critical, say something or do something loving. This will be tough, but it will work! I guarantee it.

If you need help getting your relationship in shape, then check out my couples relationship intensive boot camp options. I really believe that it only takes one positive thought to make a start. Many of my past clients have started with just one hopeful thought — that maybe some coaching will help. What will you start with?

Do you want to learn how to improve your relationship now? Learn more about marriage and couples relationship intensive services.

#relationship therapy #marriage therapy #couples therapy in camp hill #individual therapy #couples intensive therapy #couples therapy #couple therapy

[teamconductors]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Lost Tracks of Time, Chapter 3

Summary: It’s Ingo’s and Emmet’s first mission as Team Conductors. How will Emmet fair as a pokemon rescuer, especially when an unusual orb throws the team’s schedule awry?

Author’s note: So last chapter, we focused on Ingo and his state of mind, but Emmet was nowhere to be seen. Let’s focus a bit more on Emmet for this chapter, shall we?

As always, thank you to @furiouskettle/@crankyteapot for Ingo and Emmet’s designs, inspiration, and everything!

(Shippers DNI)

Ingo and Emmet stood in front of the Pearl Guild’s job bulletin board. The other Teams in the Pearl Guild picked over the list, yet the remaining requests weren’t terrible looking.

“Choose our route for the day, Emmet!” Ingo said. “Where will our battle skills be tested? Will we be able to stay in sync like yesterday? Will we be victorious in our duties or be defeated?”

“Hm…” Emmet read every request on the board. He took his time, and after a minute, he held his claw up to one paper.

“Help! My big bro Galvantula went to Sludge Remnants and hasn’t come back! Help me get him back please! -Joltik”

“An escort mission?” Ingo asked. “I expected you to select a bounty.”

“I chose the one with the highest difficulty rank,” Emmet said. Ingo looked up again at the board and indeed, this request held the highest rank at 1-star. “The area will have strong pokemon. The battles are going to be fun!” He flapped his hands, causing the ill-fitting sleeves to wave along with them.

“Don’t forget we have a client to protect. Joltik must get to his destination safely.”

“I won’t forget. Follow the rules. Safe driving! Follow the schedule. Everyone smile!” Emmet somehow gave Ingo an even wider smile. “Check safety.” Both he and Ingo checked their satchels for starting items. They nodded. “Everything’s ready!”

***

Outside of the Sludge Remnants mystery dungeon stood a Joltik on a rock in a small mudpuddle. Ingo and Emmet both crouched to hear him.

“You’re gonna help me?” The little Joltik asked.

“Yes! My name is Ingo! The Sneasel to my side is Emmet. We are Team Conductors, and we will safely guide you to your sibling.”

“Thank you!” Joltik hopped and waved his little arms in the air.

“Follow the rules and drive safely! All aboard!” Emmet reached his hand out, prompting the little pokemon to jump into his hand. Emmet felt that Joltik was bigger than he thought but wasn’t sure why. Joltik climbed his jacket and rested on top of his cap.

Thus the three entered the dungeon.

The two Sneasels traversed the dungeon with their every step marked in the muddied floors. Even when on dry land, they were not safe, as the dirt caked onto their feet and between their toes. The texture unnerved of both twins, but they pressed on. Joltik was happy enough to sit on Emmet’s hat, mostly away from the danger.

As expected from a place called Sludge Remnants, the dungeon was mostly filled with poison-type and ground-type pokemon. No wonder Joltik couldn’t make it through the area on his own.

“Why did Galvantula venture to an area like this? Seems like an unsafe travelling route,” Ingo asked.

“I-I don’t know…” Joltik said. “Mom said she doesn’t know either. I’m scared…” The little pokemon quaked on Emmet’s hat. “What if he’s…? He’s…?”

“Fret not, Joltik. Assuming the worst will only delay our arrival time. We must charge forward! We’ll find him.”

“O-Okay… We’ll find him!”

Emmet smiled wider than usual.

***

Ingo and Emmet ran their claws over the map repeatedly, looking for a potential path that would allow them to bypass the pokemon blocking the only entrance to the last room where the stairs should be. Unfortunately, they wordlessly arrived at the same conclusion. After putting away their maps, they approached the Toxicroak.

“Excuse us, you appear to be obstructing our path,” Ingo said. “There’s no alternative routes for us to get to our destination. Please move aside and we will be on our way.”

“Make me,” Toxicroak said. He was previously sitting but stood up, showing he towered over both Sneasels.

“Hi. I am Emmet. Let us battle!” Emmet pointed at the enemy and at the ground.

“Oh-ho! You’re confident,” Toxicroak said. “Let’s take you down a notch.” He promptly Poison Jabbed Emmet in the stomach, pushing him back. Ingo retaliated by first Bulking Up then by jumping and striking down Toxicroak with Iron Tail. Emmet got back on his feet, making sure Joltik was still on his hat, and struck the attacking pokemon down with Ice Beam.

Realizing he was outnumbered, Toxicroak looked around for any items to give him an edge against the weird Sneasels. He and Ingo spotted an orb and lunged to grab it. Ingo grabbed it first, but Toxicroak wrestled the orb out of his claws and activated it. The orb glowed and then vanished into sparkles. Ingo gasped.

Joltik rose into the air and spun around, slowly at first. The same happened to Emmet and Ingo, with their coats flying up like a breeze was underneath them. They spun faster and faster.

Emmet laughed nervously. “Ingo, what is this?”

“It’s a spurn orb!” was the last thing Emmet heard Ingo say before all three of them teleported away.

Emmet fell a short distance onto his butt. He jumped up and began looking around, realizing he was in a completely different area. “Ingo? Ingo!” he called out. His right ear stood up, trying to find the sound – or any sign – of his brother. But he found no clue of Ingo.

“Ingo…?”

Emmet’s heart pounded in his chest. The bubbling vats of poison lining the halls and dirt mounds that define the mystery dungeon’s shape appeared to grow larger and taller. His breathing grew labored, which forced him to inhale more of the noxious bog atmosphere, upsetting him more. He tugged on the satchel itching him.

Ingo was gone. He just found his brother, and he’s gone again. Emmet doesn’t remember how long Ingo had been gone. How long had he been searching? He doesn’t remember much from before he woke up as a Sneasel. Emmet doesn’t even know why he was so certain why Ingo was taken from him. He was just gone, disappeared again. He was alone again.

“Mr. Emmet? A-Are you okay?”

Emmet perked up from the voice he recognized. His signature wide smile returned to his face. He turned and saw Joltik in front of him. “I am Emmet. We’re at the other side of the dungeon floor!” He reached his hand out for Joltik again. “Tell me you have seen Ingo.”

“N-No… I’m sorry…” Joltik turned his gaze down and twiddled his tiny claws.

Emmet placed the client on his hat once more. He continued controlling his breathing. “Let us depart then. All aboard!”

Emmet’s walking pace quickened compared to when he was traveling with Ingo. His arms and legs swung while he explored the dungeon at a vigorous pace. Emmet yelled for Ingo, calling for him every 3 seconds. Joltik also kept yelling for Mr. Ingo, but his voice couldn’t carry through the dungeon.

Emmet and Joltik ran through room after room, each hallway and corner taunting Emmet with the possibility of finding his brother. His sense of direction failed to work during Emmet’s panic, and he found himself in front of a familiar pokemon whose battle wasn’t finished.

“You again?” Toxicroak said with another orb in hand. “I see you haven’t found your buddy yet, heh.”

Emmet’s eyes widened. He didn’t recognize the spurn orb, but he did recognize the orb in the pokemon’s hand. “I am Emmet. That is a rollcall orb. Let’s resume our battle. The victor receives the orb.”

Toxicroak gave Emmet a wide smile. “Deal.” And the first think he did was Sucker Punch Emmet.

“Hm. I’ll change up my strategy then,” Emmet said. Before Toxicroak could ask what he meant, Emmet gave him a face full of Ice Beam.

Toxicroak shook off the ice crystals and delivered another Sucker Punch. The fight devolved into a Sucker Punch vs Ice Beam battle (Emmet’s only other long-distance move was Dark Pulse, which was not optimal to use on a Toxicroak. He made a note to change his moveset again once he left the dungeon.)

Soon the other pokemon realized he ran out of energy to Sucker Punch again. He ran towards Emmet, tanking the Ice Beam to the face once more before striking him for Revenge. Emmet tumbled to the ground, his hat and Joltik landing next to him. He was still smiling.

“Mr. Emmet?” Joltik nudged Emmet’s head.

“Ha! That’s what you get for being super weak to fighting types!” Toxicroak said as he walked away, taking the rollcall orb with him.

“Mr. Emmet, please get up… I need to find my bro…” Joltik wanted to cry, but he found himself scooped up by the Sneasel’s white cap. Without moving the rest of his body, Emmet put his hat (with the client inside) back on his head.

Toxicroak heard squishing behind him. He turned around, and the Sneasel’s body was gone. In fact, it was like he was never there, as no prints of his body or even footprints remained in the mud. Then the ground shifted below him, and Emmet rushed from the mud and kicked Toxicroak at his chin. Toxicroak fell to the ground, splashing mud onto Emmet. The rollcall orb made a dent in the dirt.

“I am Emmet. I won against you. That’s what you get for being suuuuuper weak to ground type moves!” Emmet first lifted his hat to let his client out of hiding. Then he held up and activated the rollcall orb. The orb shined and transformed into a much smaller object emitting light. The light faded, and the object fell into Emmet’s hand.

“This is a whistle,” Emmet said, turning the object around in his hand. “I can use this to call Ingo, but my technique will be important.” He kept turning the whistle over and over in his hand.

Joltik wondered if he was looking for instructions on the whistle. “You have to blow into it, right…?”

After a minute, Emmet pulled out a vague memory of a distinct sound. It filled Emmet with excitement just imagining it. If anyone could recognize it, Ingo would. He took a deep breath and, using the rollcall orb-whistle, played a sound that can only be described as:

CHOO-CHOOOOOO!!

Then the whistle disappeared into air. After a moment, Emmet picked up the sound of squishing footsteps running across the sludge. “Ingo!” Emmet raised his arms up in victory. Joltik bounced in happiness.

“Emmet! Forgive me for the delay. I was teleported into a deep, poisonous mud lake-“ Ingo’s explanation was interrupted by Emmet hugging him.

“You’re back! You’re back!” Emmet said. He hugged Ingo tighter.

“We were decoupled for five minutes,” Ingo said with a worried tone of voice. “I can see you’re injured. Was the battle that bad?”

Emmet let go of his brother but still held his shoulders. “No. It was a good battle, even though I prefer double battles. Let us return to our trip!” Then his stomach turned, and he realized he was fighting to keep his body upright. “I am poisoned.”

“Be aware of your surroundings, Emmet.” Ingo held up the ends of his coat soaked with the mud he just described as poisonous.

***

After Emmet’s health was restored, it only took a couple more floors for Team Conductors

“I see him!” Joltik said. He jumped up and down on Emmet’s head. “Galvantula!”

Galvantula turned around. “Joltik?!”

“Greetings! We are Team Conductors!” Ingo said, with him and Emmet giving the lost pokemon their signature poses. “Our mission was to guide Joltik to you.”

“A rescue team? You came to find me…?” Galvantula asked. “That’s… that’s funny…”

“What’s wrong?” Joltik asked. He jumped on top of Galvantula’s head.

“I came out here because someone said you were here. I was looking all over, but I guess… it was all some sick joke. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I’m… I’m so glad…” Joltik started tearing up. “You’re okay…!”

“I’m glad, too! Let’s go home. Thank you, Team Conductors.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ingo, Mr. Emmet!” Joltik jumped and waved at the two Sneasels.

“It’s always a pleasure,” Ingo said. “Now, allow us to be your conductors out of this location to the Pearl Guild. Emmet?”

He and Emmet took off their explorer’s badges and showed it to the two pokemon. Galvantula and Joltik both glowed and happily waved as they disappeared to the Pearl Guild.

Ingo repined his badge and turned to face Emmet. “This concludes your on-the-job training. What do you think?”

“I had fun,” Emmet said. “We had some great battles. Let’s do some more!”

“Very well. We don’t need to depart from the station this instant. Let’s continue this journey here until we’re at the last stop.”

“Then let’s have more fun!”

***

That night, Ingo and Emmet let their recently cleaned coats hang and air-dry outside their tent. Both coats fluttered in the night’s wind, waving happily like flags. Both hats rested on their inventory basket, also drying after thorough cleaning. Ingo slept in his haybed, signature frown still plastered on his face.

Emmet tossed and turned in his bed. Normally his face relaxed in his sleep, but his mouth contorted into a wide smile as his restless body threw hay around. It only stopped when he fell out of the pile and woke up, sweating and panting.

Emmet sat up and looked around. Ingo was still there, his body shivering from Coronet Mountain’s chill. He stepped outside the tent to inspect their coats. He unpinned Ingo’s coat from the line and shook off the ice crystals, revealing a dried coat. Emmet hadn’t seen his brother’s coat up close until then. He vaguely recalled the two taking great care of their uniforms, so why was Ingo’s so tattered? He put the thought aside. Ingo already said he had almost no recollection of how he ended up as a pokemon – then again, neither did Emmet – let alone why his coat was so damaged.

Emmet took the coat and draped it over Ingo’s body. Satisfied that his brother was more comfortable, he returned every displaced straw to his bed and climbed back in. He stared at the tent ceiling and closed his eyes, trying to remember what his nightmare was about. There was wind. There were cries of unfamiliar – or maybe once familiar – pokemon. There was yelling, so much yelling. And there was falling. Why was he falling?

Emmet’s train of thought halted when he heard Ingo snort. The nightmare didn’t matter. Ingo was right there. Ingo was here. That was enough.

#PMD Lost Tracks of Time #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon legends spoilers #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #submas #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd au #as it turns out I can work on chapters faster when I'm not at work. who woulda thought? #me: 'i just want the twins to be happy' #also me: shows ingo disassociating and emmet having a panic attack

[amimimi]

sk8 boys would reacting to you pulling them in by their belt

synopsis: you pulling the sk8 babes in by their belts for a kiss

pairings: joe x reader, cherry x reader, reki x reader, langa x reader

warnings: kissing, suggestive themes, swearing

notes: not me just seeing this tiktok trend ...but thoughts are being thunk...❤️ also, i apologize in advance for any grammatical/spelling errors

word count: 1,930

JOE

this flirty ass b*tch 😒

he thinks he’s so smooth...and he is!

i see y’all bar hopping in the early talking stages of your relationship

so you’re seated the bar and you’re kinda annoyed because maybe there are a couple girls who come up to him and offer to buy him a drink? (of course they would, have you seen how he’s built?)

BUT THAT’S NOT EVEN THE BAD PART

this mf get’s up from his stool and starts FLIRTING BACK?? AND YOU’RE JUST SITTING THERE LIKE —🧍‍♀️

but then he turns back to you and see’s the displeased look on your face.

cue joe nervously laughing and gently shooing the other girls away

but you’re already pissed bc like? the nerve of him? and in front of you??

you stare straight past him, leaning your elbow up on the bar table as he stands in front of you. babbling out apologies(?)

if you can even call them that?

“babe, i’m sorry! you know it’s force of habit! i didn’t even get to see what they looked like! and they were being nice! what was I supposed to do? tell them to get gone? i was just being polite to them, i’m a feminist after all 😏—”

b*tch...what?

you feel like you’re getting dumber just listening to him

so you kinda tilt your head to look at him and let your hands settle on the front of his belt

his voice kinda tilts? like it slightly gets a just a bit higher ?

before he can even make a smart ass remark, you firmly tug him towards you and kiss him

he hums in surprise before chuckling into the kiss and bringing his warm, calloused hands up to your face

he pulls away and quickly pecks at your lips before playfully outing

“oof, so mean”

“but you like that” you reply before kissing him again

meanwhile, the bartender is watching yall like “😐😑😐”

REKI

like with joe, i imagine you pulling this stunt off in the beginning of your relationship

you and reki are in the little workshop behind his house doing normal relationship stuff

you know, reki working on a skateboard repair while you lovingly admire his side profile...yea ❤️

he’s so absorbed in his work, his eyebrows are furrowed every so slightly, and he’ll randomly clench his jaw and WOWOWOW HE LOOK SO GOOD!

you feel so blessed just being able to take this sight in

you’re watching him intently with your elbows propped up on the table and your face resting between your hands

reki’s in the middle of tightening the screws when he notices you looking out of his peripheral vision

he glances over to you and sees you staring at him

have y’all seen that meme of meghan markle at her wedding looking up at harry?

YEA, YEA you’re literally looking up at reki like that

and boy does reki get FLUSTERED

he tries to act cool about catching you staring but baby is blushing way too hard

“w-what?”, reki mentally kicks himself for stammering as he returns his focus to the skateboard

“you look really hot right now”

reki damn near chokes and his face gets even more red (if that’s even possible)

he turns his back to you to reach for a wrench on the wall adjacent to him

but he's trynna hide how hard he's blushing uwu

you're laughing now and the melodic sound makes the tension in reki’s shoulders dissipate

yea...y’all are whipped for each other

reki is pouting with his back to you, still “looking” for his wrench

when all of sudden, he feels your hands settle on his waist, urging him to turn around

"rekiiiiii", you playfully whine. "i can't admire my boyfriend?"

he's turning around to tell you that he's busy, but then your fingers hook onto his belt

and before his brain can compute what's happening, you're sharply tugging his belt and your mouth is on his, hot and heavy

and reki moans

and it's so high-pitched and so earnest and so loud, you almost want to giggle

but then his knees buckle and he kinda collapses forward into you

so y'all both kinda shuffle back, but reki manages to catch himself by wrapping his arms around you for support

you're about to pull away to ask if he's okay, but then he brings one hand up to your face and parts his mouth

and when you gasp against his mouth, he feels slightly relieved knowing his dignity has been saved somehow

reki pulls away first, panting, and rests his forehead against your collarbone, trying to hide his face again

"you suck" he murmurs into your chest, slightly dizzy

you hum contentedly, combing his hair back before kissing the top of his head

CHERRY

first of all, this mf is an aries (just when i thought he couldn’t get sexier)

and aries men...🥴

basically, you have to do a lot to actually fluster this man

so let’s say he takes you with him for a two-day work trip on a nearby island

while he works with his clients during the day, you busy yourself by wandering around the hotel or walking along the beach

basically, the only time the two of you have together is in the evening

it’s your last night before y’all have to return to okinawa

kaoru tells you to get dressed and takes you out to this expensive ass restaurant and he’s sooooo f*cking romantic

the love in his eyes,,,, his soft ass smile as he watches you ramble in between taking sips from your wine glass

he’s looking at you as you’re personally responsible for the sun rising each day

i mean, you could’ve been talking about how you saw a crab on the beach that was missing a leg, and kaoru would just be like “tell me more bby 🥰😍”

when y’all make it back to the hotel, you’re both a little tipsy (kaoru is more so buzzed)

you’re holding onto kaoru’s arm as you both take the elevator up to your hotel room

kaoru feels you slightly sway against him and he leans over to kiss the top of your head

“you alright, darling?” he murmurs into your hair

he takes your hand in his and runs the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand

and he does all of this while his lips are pressed against the top of your head— SIR PLS ✋😩

it’s an chaste act and you know he’s genuinely concerned but after two glasses of wine, your brain is just—🥴

hornknee thoughts only 😩💯

sloppily, you wiggle out of kaoru’s embrace before centering yourself in front of him with your hands placed on his chest

at your action, kaoru’s eyebrow raises ever so slightly but he keeps silent, slightly amused

“you’re so f*cking fine” you murmur, slightly smoothing your hands over kaoru’s chest, staring him right in eye

“oh?”

“yea, and you don’t even try. What’s that like?”

by now, kaoru’s softly smiling. “what’s what like, my love?”

“what’s it like to be so hot without even trying?”

and before ol boy can even reply to that, your hands find his belt before firmly pulling him in for a kiss

kaoru hums at the sudden jolt but then sighs appreciatively through his nose and wastes no time parting his mouth for you

b*tch, you’re the one who’s moaning skxhsnwje

still kissing you, he smooths your hair back with one hand before grabbing a fistful of your hair

he firmly yanks your hair back and deepens the kiss, and you just— 🤸‍♀️

the moan that elicits from you, is OTHERWORLDY

you feel the elevator roll to a stop

kaoru pulls back with a grin on his face and so much love in his eyes that you’re tempted to go in for round two

but then the elevator door slides open and he grabs your hand, tugging you into the hallways

as he leads you to the hotel room, kaoru slightly turns his head back to smile at you, with the same amount of love in his eyes

LANGA

i feel like langa may get flustered as easily as reki might, but he’s manages to be a lot more cool about it

which kinda drives you up the wall? you just wanna see your boyfriend embarrassed for once

all he does is slightly blush with a straight face and glance away

so let’s say he’s walking you home after you, him, and reki were hanging about at a skatepark

the sun had already set and langa is walking beside you with his skateboard under one arm.

the walk is pretty silent, but it’s a comfortable silence. langa finds that he and you can soak up each other’s presence without having to say a word

you see him jolt out of your peripheral vision and you’re like ???

before you can glance over and ask if he’s okay, he quickly grabs your hand

you glance up at him, confused, and he simply replies “i forgot to hold your hand, sorry”

langa wtf??

fighting back the urge to laugh, you squeeze his hand and tell him it’s fine

both of you share a soft smile, before the easy silence continues for the rest of the walk

when y’all arrive on your porch steps, you turn to him and thank him for walking you home

langa assures you it’s no problem before saying goodnight

he’s turns around and takes a couple steps away, when you clear your throat

he glances back at you, quizzically

you’re standing on the porch step, with your hands behind your back.

there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes

“aren’t you forgetting something?” you playfully chide him

langa: 😐😑😐

you can literally see the gears turning in langa’s head

“...did you want me to walk you to your bedroom?”

you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, and langa feels his cheeks reddened slightly

“angel, no. I meant a goodnight kiss?”

“o-oh, right”

his brows furrowed slightly as he determinedly making his way over to you

he’s so—&:&72737

as he’s making his way over, an idea pops into your head and you kinda “>:3”

when langa is standing in front of you, your hands grip onto his belt and you yank him into a kiss

bby boy almost drops his skateboard

he quickly inhaled through his nose before giving a stuttered moan and you smile into the kiss

you’re standing on the first step to your porch so the added height is giving you more access

BITE HIS MFIN LIP! he will gasp so prettily into your mouth

entranced, he keeps leaning more and more forward, that is, until the back of your foot hits the step behind you

stumbling backwards, you fall back and pull langa along right with you

you fall right on your ass, yelping as you knock foreheads with langa as he falls into you

so now, you’re both left moaning, gripping your foreheads

“are you okay?” langa asks you, dropping his hand from his forehead revealing a red mark

you begin to laugh at the sight of it and langa just stares at you, confused but slightly defensive

“w-what?!”

“your forehead is red” you giggle

“well yea, you slammed your forehead into mine”

“you slammed your forehead into mine” you give him a quick peck on his lip before smoothing his hair hair back

“that looks like it’s gonna bruise,” you murmur and press a kiss to his forehead “I’ll get you some ice, come inside”

end notes: i wanted to get this out in time for cherry’s bday!

#sk8 the infinity x reader #joe x reader #reki x reader #cherry blossom x reader #langa x reader #sk8 the infinty

[arrowflier]

Arrow write the mickey spotting ian and kev fic challenge!

Had to do this while it was still topical lol, so here goes.

The first time was an accident.  Well, sort of. 

"Ian can help with that," Mickey offered, watching Kev struggle to shift kegs and pour drinks at the same time.

"Thanks man," Kev grunted, hoisting another keg.  He waddled with it along the length of the bar, body hidden behind the counter, and set it down with a heavy thunk.

"Not easy though," he added as he straightened.  "Don't wanna make him strain somethin' before your wedding."

He waggled his eyebrows at Mickey, tongue stuck out, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

He knew exactly what would come next.

"You think I can't lift a keg?" Ian asked from the stool next him.  His voice almost broke on the last word with sheer disbelief.  "I'm not some skinny kid anymore, Kev, I just got out of prison for fuck's sake!"

"Cause there were plenty of kegs there to lift," Mickey muttered into his beer, and almost sent it splashing over the old stained countertop when Ian shoved his shoulder too hard.

"Just point me where you need me," Ian told Kev, puffing out his chest.

Kev eyed Ian, then Mickey, then Ian again.  But ultimately, he shrugged, and tapped the top of the keg he had just put down.

"Uh, this guy here needs to go out back," he said.  "Brought in the wrong one."

"On it," Ian said, and made his way to it.  He bent over at the waist, his hands reaching for the handles, ass stuck out in his too-tight jeans.

Mickey tilted his head, and sipped his drink, admiring the view.

"Whoa, whoa, not like that!" Kev said from behind the bar, arms out.  "You're gonna hurt yourself, man."

"Then how," Ian forced out between gritted teeth, still leaning over, "would you suggest I do this?"

Kev came around, whacked Ian in the back until he let go and straightened with a huff.  Then he took up position at another keg alongside the first.

"Lift with your legs, kid," he said, and dropped into a half squat right in front of Mickey's face.

Oh.

"Like this?" Ian relented, assuming position next to Kev, broad back stretched and straight over bent legs and strong thighs.

Oh.

Kev and Ian each hoisted their kegs, beginning their awkward walk away toward the back, and Mickey leaned so far back on his stool he almost fell off.

Well, he thought as he downed the last of his drink, eyes following two ridiculously built sets of shoulders strain their way across the room.

He could get used to seeing that.

---

The second time, it was definitely on purpose.  He had talked Ian into trying out KevFit after his own misadventure--he was not eager to keep working out on his own, but Ian kept wanting to do new shit together.

They were only one round in at the keg lift station, Ian already grunting and heaving and sweaty next to him, when Kev came by.

"Good form, Ian," he congratulated, clapping a hand on his shoulder hard enough to make him drop the half-filled keg with a clatter.  "Way better than last time."

"Gee, thanks," Ian answered dryly, wiping his forehead with the hem of his thin workout tank, and Mickey had an epiphany.

"Hey, Kev," he said slowly, like the idea was just occurring to him, "You got all this equipment rigged up, but how are you on basics?"

Kev's brow furrowed, his muscled arms going slack at his sides.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like, pushups and jogging and shit," Mickey answered.  "You know, the kind of stuff they do in the military."

He let his eyes widen, and turned them on Ian. 

"Oh wait," he said, "that's kinda your thing, ain't it?"

Ian shrugged, looking confused.

"Uh, I guess?"

"Why don't you show Kev one of your old workouts?" Mickey suggested innocently.  "He could add some things to the whole KevFit routine, maybe bring in more clients."

Kev perked up at that.

"Yeah, why not?" he said.  "C'mon Ian, show me what you've got."

Five minutes later, Mickey was leaning against the "spring water" station, sipping from the flask he had snuck in from next door, watching two ridiculously tall, ridiculously strong fuckers take up half the open floor space doing increasingly impressive pushups.  Right then, Ian had one arm behind his sweat-slicked back, Kev mirroring his form, and Mickey's eyes followed the rise and fall of their bodies with total focus.

"Excuse me," a wimpy, hipster-sounding dude said hesitantly from behind him, " but do you know when they're bringing out more waters?"

Mickey didn't even bother to look.

"Get lost," he answered, waving a hand in the guy's general direction.  "Go drink outa the bathroom sink like a normal fucking person and let me watch my show."

---

The third time, he was pretty sure Ian was catching on.

Not that he cared, honestly--the view was fucking worth it.

"You call that a bench press?" He goaded his husband from behind the bench.  "Kev's kickin' your ass, man, that's just embarassing."

Ian glowered, breath hissing out between his teeth as he pushed up again.

"I'm pretty much pressing you right now," he gritted out, "so I'm feeling pretty good about it, actually."

Mickey hid his grin behind a hand, feigning disinterest even as his eyes followed Ian's bulging arms up and down, lingering on the tight plane of his chest.

"Well he's pressing like two of me," Mickey countered, letting his eyes wander, "so you might wanna step it up, tough guy."

Sure enough, Kev's current weights were at least half again what Ian had, and he was doing an admirable job of lifting them considering that his gigantic self was too big for the bench.  Mickey hadn't considered that when he invited Kev to check out the gym at their new place; it was designed for recreational exercise, not fucking seven foot tall body builders.  The man's legs stretched out awkwardly off the bottom of the bench, knees bent but stuck up far too high for proper form.  His broad shoulders dwarfed the other end, making it look like his upper body was just suspended there.

Mickey licked his lips, watching the shift of muscles under Kev's tanned skin--thank the lord the man shared his aversion to sleeves--and almost got chinned when he leaned too far over Ian's station.

The bar slotted into place without his help, Ian sitting up and wiping his face with a hand.

"Why don't you spot him for a while, then," Ian said. "While I go hit the shower."

He stood, making his way to the door, and Mickey paused, torn.

"Or I could give you a practical demonstration of my ability to lift you," Ian added over his shoulder, and Mickey was making his excuses to their guest and chasing after him before Kev could even finish another rep.

---

Ian never brought it up, after that, but Mickey still decided to cool it, just a little. Ian had seemed a little jealous, at the gym, although you'd never have known it by the things he said later--bet you like it when people look like they can throw you around, Mick--and Mickey did not need to throw a wrench into their marriage just for a little extra eye candy.

But then they were all at the pool together, the Gallaghers plus Mickey, plus Tami, plus Kev and Vee, and he really couldn't help it.

"Damn our men are hot," Tami had commented, sitting in a white plastic chair next to Mickey.

Mickey leaned back with a grin, taking a swig of lukewarm beer, and said, "You think that's hot?" nodding to where Ian and Lip were splashing each other over Franny's head in the shallow end.

"Watch this," he finished, and cupped a hand over his mouth to help his voice carry.

"Hey Ian," he shouted. "Bet Kev could beat you in a race."

"Hell yeah!" Kev called back from where he was manning the grill. "Name the time, man!"

Mickey could see Ian roll his eyes, and worried for the briefest of moments that his husband was done humoring him. But after a brief, hushed word with his brother, Ian was swimming to the side of the pool nearest Kev, saying "right now, backstroke, three laps," and Mickey was falling in love all over again.

"You do this a lot?" Tami asked, amused, as Kev stripped off his shirt and jumped in to take his place at the wall of the pool.

Mickey waited until they were off, arms wheeling wildly through the water and sending the sparkling spray onto sculpted, heaving chests, to answer.

"Define a lot," he said, not looking away from the spectacle as Ian and Kev hit the wall and turned, their swimsuits flashing through the water.

Tami snickered.

"Got it," she said, then, "thanks for sharing the wealth."

The race finished, Ian and Kev lifting themselves out of the pool, water running down their bodies as they clasped hands and went in for a shoulder-slapping bro hug. Ian looked back to where Mickey sat, and smirked.

"No problem," Mickey murmured, watching closely.

Ian leaned up to say something into Kev's ear, and Mickey squinted, like that would somehow help him hear it.

"Ogling the competition, Milkovich?" Lip's voice came from behind, and Mickey nearly fell out of his chair.

"The fuck are you talkin about?" he demanded, twisting around in his chair to look at Lip's knowing smirk.

"Nothing," Lip answered innocently. "Just noticed you've been watching Kev a lot lately."

Mickey scowled.

"And what's it to you?" he challenged. "Nothing at all," Lip said. "Just an observation." His grin widened. "And a distraction."

Mickey's eyes narrowed.

"A distraction from wha--argh!"

He cut off as he was lifted by two pairs of string arms, familiar ones wrapped under his own and different, strong hands holding his feet. He flailed, barely registering the flash of green eyes and a mostly bald head, before he hit the water with a splash.

By the time he surfaced, snorting chlorinated pool water out of his nose, it was to see two grinning faces looking down at him.

"Thought you might need to cool off after watching us," Ian said with a grin, laughing when Mickey tried to splash water into his face.

"Next time you want a show," Kev added, "just ask, man." He waggled his eyebrows. "I learned a few things when I worked that gay club."

Ian laughed again at Mickey's shocked expression.

"You need to work on your poker face, Mick," he said. "But it's okay, we don't mind."

He winked, then turned to walk away, leaving Mickey floating in the pool. Kev left with him, hips swaying slightly, and Mickey bit his lip and watched them go.

"Really?" Lip asked from the side of the pool, sounding disgusted, and Mickey just shrugged without looking back.

After all, if they didn't mind...

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fanfic #kev ball #silly and random

[army-author]

jungkook scenario | the alchemy of amor

❝ jungkook is the arrogant son of the duke. you’re a humble alchemist just trying to make a living. unfortunately for you, jungkook seems to have taken a strange interest in you. when a dangerous wager involving a love potion spirals out of control, you find yourself flung into the deep end of emotion, and it becomes difficult to decipher genuine attraction from magical aftereffect... ❞

➝ prompt: i’m a witch who’s been experimenting with love-potion formulas, but there’s been a bit of a mix-up, and now the love-potion has somehow ended up in your hands, and you’re drinking it, and - no, please stop!

➝ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➝ genre: fluff, fantasy au, enemies to lovers

➝ requested by anon | 15.5k words

➝ warnings: profanity, mild injury, implied smut, some characters express misogynist sentiments

➝ author’s note: i hope you enjoy it! i had a lot of fun writing it. as you can see from the word count, i got a bit carried away. i can’t help it, i love enemies to lovers!

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

You are not wont to pray, but in circumstances such as this, with your life unravelling before you in tattered ribbons, your mind recalls the goddess you so often forget. Watching in horror, your supplications come thick and fast, as Jeon Jungkook downs the phial of rose-gold potion, and with it, swallows the hours of work you had invested into those shimmering contents.

Normally, you would not be so perturbed by the wasting of a potion, even one as rare as Impetus Amor. Ingredients can always be re-bought, potions can always be re-brewed. But something about Jungkook’s cocky expression as he sets down the vial, and raises a brow at you, overwhelms you with the heat of irrational fury.

“Mighty goddess above, what is wrong with you?” you spit venom more potent than your potions. “You know very well how long that took to brew!”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough.” He smacks his lips together, “Looks like the potion doesn’t work anyway. And on top of that, it tastes bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

How does he know what dried roses and soap taste like?

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you retort through gritted teeth.

You know that the potion does work. After all the work you invested - collecting rose-petals, gold shavings, and pegasus feathers, all to be brewed on a blue moon, and then carefully distilled – there was no way that the batch of Impetus Amor was unsuccessful. But every alchemist worth their gold knows that the finicky love potion takes a few minutes to take effect after ingestion.

Which means that in a few minutes Jeon Jungkook, the man you hate most, will involuntarily fall in love with you.

How could I let this happen? You cast your mind over the unfortunate events that had led you to this low point, while you stifle a scream.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Several days ago]

It starts when one of your customers steps into your potions shop, in the town of Sientha, with a peculiar order.

She wears a red hood that covers most of her face, and clutches a purse tightly in her gloved hand. Glancing furtively around the shop, she walks over to your counter, and slips a note between the demijohns and ampuls that crowd the area where you work.

Upon unfolding her note, your eyes widen. The note reads: ‘One vial of Impetus Amor’. You focus your eyes on the client, who keeps her head down. You can just make out shapely lips and a dainty chin below the lowered hood.

“I know it’s a difficult potion to make,” she says in a hushed tone, “But I’m willing to pay whatever you need for it.”

You study her intently. Below the cloak, you can see an expensive dress, and jewellery sparkling at her neck. It’s clear that she has the means to pay. In most circumstances, you would object to the use of Impetus Amor, but it is not your responsibility to tell your customers how to use your potions. You simply get on with brewing, and ask no questions. That’s how you make a living. This case wouldn’t be any different.

“Okay,” you say, “I must warn you that it will take quite a while to make, and most of the ingredients are quite rare, so the wait may be long.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

You nod, leaning against the counter, as you tally up how much the potion will cost in ingredients and labour. When you finally name your price, the woman is silent for a moment, contemplating, before she nods, and rummages in her purse. She takes out a small brown sack, heavy with coin, which she places in front of you. Counting up the money, you nod in satisfaction. “You’re in luck. There’s a blue moon soon, and the potion should be ready not long after. Roughly five weeks,” you advise, “Come by to collect it when you’re able.”

Satisfied, the woman leaves the shop, while you gape at the sack of coins on your counter top. You hadn’t had that much money to your name in a long time.

Impetus Amor – the potion is infamously difficult to create, but you’re ready for a challenge. Spinning around to the shelf of tomes behind you, you scour the tittles until you find the one you need. You pull the tome down from its shelf, holding your breath as a fog of dust descents around you. So it begins.

✽ ✽ ✽

The first mistake you make is accepting the request from the mysterious woman who came into your shop.

Your second mistake is letting Jungkook into your shop. Or letting Jungkook anywhere near you at all.

Jungkook is the only son of the duke of Braewyth, the duchy you reside in - a hobbyist alchemist and your tormentor in his spare time. When he had first barged into your potion shop, and declared that he wanted to learn the art of alchemy, you were led to the conclusion that he was a pretentious prick. This suspicion proved to be correct, as after a few lessons from you – out of the goodness of your heart, and the impossibility of saying ‘No’ to the heir of the duchy – Jungkook believed himself to be better than you with your fifteen years of experience. He was now convinced that the two of you were rivals, and you were convinced that he was a pain in the arse.

As you work on crushing down dried rose petals for your new project, Jungkook barges into your shop once more. He doesn’t seem to know of any other way to make an entrance into your tiny business. He leans over the counter, his eyes burning on your skin as you work.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Preparing ingredients for Impetus Amor.”

His nose wrinkles as he leans back on the counter, crossing his arms over his overcoat, embroidered with the emblem of the duchy, a snow white stag on a blue shield. “Ah, the potion of love,” he muses, “I’ve heard that one’s incredibly difficult to make.”

“I know,” you grimace, as you continue to grind rose petals to a fine red dust in your stone mortar. “What of it, Mr. Jeon?”

The duke’s son gives an impartial shrug. “I’m merely stating that it’s a laborious potion to perfect. I’m surprised you’re attempting it.”

You bite down on your cheek to stop yourself from speaking indecently to Braewyth’s heir. “My customers respect me, and know that I’ll carry out any requests with the utmost care,” you cut back with thinly veiled anger.

Jungkook leans back lazily, his elbow brushing dangerously close to a decanter filled with Verum Serum, a silver truth potion you’ve been working on. “Well then, my little apothecary, why don’t we make a wager?”

You raise an eyebrow, setting down your mortar, and waiting for him to continue.

“I’m willing to bet that you won’t be able to finish the potion,” Jungkook says, “In fact, if you finish it, and it works, I’ll pay you in gold.” He grins.

“And if I can’t?” you enquire. It’s an unlikely option, but you need to know what you are dealing with. You find it difficult to refuse the offer of money, especially if it’s a loss for Jungkook, but you’re wary of the consequences on the (very low) chance that you are unsuccessful.

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook raises a hand, “I know you can’t pay much gold.” Your cheeks heat up. “But if you lose, then I demand a kiss from you.”

Biting down a retort, you take a deep breath, and remind yourself that it is unacceptable to call the son of the duke a ‘Bastard’, no matter how much you want to. Instead, with your fists balling, you reply, “Very well, Mr. Jeon. But please be prepared to lose.”

His eyes glitter under your gaze, “Okay.”

You know that there is no way you can lose. Still, the very thought of admitting defeat and letting him kiss you has your blood boiling as it churns through your heart. You ought to show more respect to the son of the duke - to most a kiss from him would be an honour - but your find respect hard to muster when he does nothing but flirt with the ladies about the town of Sientha, strutting arrogantly down the streets with a different girl handing off his arm each night.

It’s Jungkook’s loss for certain. You’ll make sure of that.

✽ ✽ ✽

Despite your confidence, Jungkook does everything he can to get in your way.

The next morning you raise yourself early from your bed to head into the mountains in search of pegasus feathers. Jungkook catches you on your walk between your shop and the stables, with your satchel slung across your back, and a grenadine-coloured cloak covering your riding boots and trousers. He saunters across the cobbled street to greet you. “Look at you. Out and about. It’s not often I see you step out of the comforts of your shop.”

“Perhaps if you were up earlier, it wouldn’t be such an irregular occurrence for you,” you chide, as you make for the bridge to the east, leading out of Sientha, “I often go out in the morning to track down ingredients.”

“My apologies that I don’t know your schedule by heart, little alchemist,” Jungkook ripostes, keeping pace with you, short steps for his longer legs, “I’ll have you know that I have many duties that keep me in the Braewyth manor until later in the day.”

Uninterested, you reach the stables where your ebony mare waits, whickering in recognition when you reach her stall. You begin saddling up, annoyed by the presence of Jungkook behind you, which you try to ignore – but like a fly buzzing around an empty room, it gets too irritating too quickly. “Are you planning on following me around all day like a cur in heat?” you ask, and Jungkook smirks, clearly amused to have scratched at some deep seated vexation inside you.

“That’s no way to talk to me, little alchemist,” he reminds you, waggling a taunting finger.

You sigh, adjusting the bridle on your mare. “Please excuse me, my good sir,” you lace your voice with sarcasm, “It wan’t my intention to offend. I was simply surprised to see someone like you showing an interest in my humble activities.” You offer him a sickly sweet smile, before hoisting yourself up into your saddle.

Ignoring your mockery, Jungkook looks up at you from under your dark lashes, “Well, where are you headed today?”

You bite down on your instinctual reply, thinking better of telling him it’s none of his business. “I’m going to the mouth of the River Waye. It’s rumoured that a pegasus has nested there, and I need its feathers.”

“For the Impetus Amor?” Jungkook’s eyes gleam.

You bow your head in a nod.

“Excellent. I’d love to come with you,” Jungkook sates, “I’ve never seen a real pegasus.”

As you open your mouth, ready to deny him, he interrupts, “You offered to tutor me on alchemy after all. Ingredient collection is a vital part of the hobby.”

I never offered to tutor you, you simply thrust your cumbersome presence upon me. Before you can say any of this out loud, Jungkook is calling for one of the stable hands to saddle up one of their horses. “Mr. Jeon, need I remind you that this hobby is a source of income for some,” you’re left to respond, somewhat hopelessly, as Jungkook stares up at you in your saddle.

Your mare shifts restless, unsure why she’s still cooped in her stable.

“If it’s such a burden to earn a livelihood, then I’m sure you could find some kind husband who’d be more than happy to take care of you,” Jungkook responds, “With looks like yours, you’d never have to work another day in your life.”

Your blood boils in frustration. You bite down on your lip, watching in cold silence as the stable hand brings a chestnut stallion over to Jungkook, handing him the reins. Your horse senses your unease, and with a prick of your heels in her side, she’s all too happy to trot out of the stable and into the harsh sunshine of the winter morning.

Jungkook follows behind, his stallion’s horseshoes clacking on the cobblestones.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Jeon,” you say, controlling your tone as best you can, “I’m perfectly content making a living for myself, and am in no need of a husband.”

“And what of it?” Jungkook spurs on his horse, overtaking you as you reach the bridge out of Sientha, where the town guards immediately part, recognising the duchy crest on Jungkook’s overcoat.

As you follow over the bridge, Jungkook casts a look over his shoulder at you, “You wish to spend your whole life brewing potions, and die an old maid?”

“I know of worse fates,” you say, “I would rather live as a lowly alchemist than the chattel of some rich cretin such as yourself.”

Jungkook falls into silence, face frosty, and you wonder if your pushed things too far.

As you continue down the road, the quality of the surface worsens, with more potholes appearing the further you travel from Sientha. Fallen mute, you and Jungkook pass fields, appearing empty after the harvests of autumn.

It’s a long way to the mouth of the River Waye, which lies in the valley between two mountains, Mount Cantre and Ayn Blanch. The two peaks rise above you in the distance. As you branch off the main road onto a dirt track, you allow your mare to break into a gallop, and Jungkook urges his horse on to keep up with yours. You cast a glance over to him as he keeps stride beside you, his jaw set and his brows furrowed over dark eyes. With your gaze fixed, you almost miss the shouting, until the ruckus is directly behind you. Snapping your neck around, you see a group of Braewyth soldiers approaching on horseback. You pull on your mare’s reigns, attempting to bring her to a halt, but the soldiers are already upon you, passing by on the narrow track. Your skittish mare rears as the soldiers rush past, and you find your view turned upside down. Thrown from the saddle, you land on your rear in a soft pile of moss. You’re lucky to have nothing but your pride bruised.

Jungkook brings his horse to a halt next to you, and leaps down from his saddle, catching your spooked mare’s reigns, before she makes to bolt. Soothing the black horse with hushed murmurs, Jungkook leads her to a nearby tree, where he ties the reigns to a low hanging branch. “Are you alright?” he turns his attention back to you.

You wince, and take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Yes, I’m okay. Just a little shaken.”

“Good.” His voice is gruff, “Those bloody soldiers. I wonder if they realise who they just overtook. I’ve a mind to report them to my father.”

“Don’t bother,” you dust down your cape, “Everyone knows the Braewyth soldiers are bloated with pride after the last success in war.”

Jungkook snorts. “That war was three years ago. Their only responsibility now is to protect the people of the duchy, and they can’t even do that!” He heaves a sigh, eyes cast to the sky, where the harsh sun shines down from an empty winter sky. “No matter, we’re wasting time here. If you’re sure you’re alright, then we should crack on.”

You walk over to untie your mare, who has now calmed down and is happily grazing on some grass by the side of the road. Hoisting yourself into your saddle, you edge her on with a soft nudge of your heels. Ahead of you, Jungkook has already mounted his ride, patting the neck of his stallion. You’re almost in a mind to apologise to Jungkook for calling him a “cretin” earlier, but you bite back the words, pride getting in the way.

You continue the journey in silence. The path is long, and as your altitude increases, the temperature plummets. Shivering, you pull your cloak closer around you. Your mare huffs out puffs of warm breath as she trots down the winding track, weaving between the smaller hills that spread towards the Braewyth mountains. Further ahead, Jungkook is hunched down in his saddle, looking cold, but staying stubbornly silent.

At last, you come to the edge of the valley, and begin to follow the track next to the shallow section of the River Waye. The banks are padded with moss, and you spot the sleek shining bodies of carp flickering in the crystalline water.

Slowing your mare, you slip off your mount, and tie her to a barren tree at the edge of the water. Ahead of you, Jungkook, having noticed you have stopped, dismounts as well. “Are we there?” he asks.

You nod, putting a finger to your lips. With a hushed voice, you respond: “Nearly. But we need to proceed on foot. Pegasus are incredibly skittish. We’ll be quieter without the horses.”

Passing Jungkook, you follow the winding path next to the Waye, stepping on the spongy moss to silence your footsteps. The two mountains rise up on either side of you – on the left, Ayn Blanche, its peak capped with snow, and on the right, Mount Cantre, sitting squat in Ayn Blanche’s shadow. The valley in between is adorned with scree; clumps of heather dot the otherwise drab landscape.

You slow to a stop when your sharp eyes catch sight of what you were hoping for – hoof prints and loose white hairs caught on a bramble. Leaning down, you pick up a strand of hair, running your fingers over it. Course and thick, there’s no denying it. The hair from a pegasus’ mane.

“There’s a pegasus somewhere around here,” you inform Jungkook in a hushed tone, pointing out the hoof prints to him.

Staying silent, oddly obedient, Jungkook nods, eyes scanning the area.

Carefully, you make your way along the trail of hoof prints. Ahead of you, you spot an opening on the steep flank of Ayn Blanche, a few meters from the base. It appears to be the perfect spot for a pegasus nest, tucked away from the wind that normally sweeps through the valley. Walking to the base, you search for a good foothold, and begin to hoist yourself up the craggy slope to the opening.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Jungkook breaks his unofficial vow of silence.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you huff, “I’m getting up to the pegasus’ nest.”

“Isn’t that dangerous work for… well...” Jungkook trails off. Probably for the best.

“I’ve climbed my fair share of rock faces,” you assure him, “Alchemy isn’t just about sitting daintily at a table stirring tiny beakers and keeping one’s hands soft and free of callouses.”

“But won’t the pegasus be angered if you enter its nest?” Jungkook worries from below.

As you stretch to reach for a rock that juts out above you, you grunt, “You know, Mr. Jeon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were concerned for my wellbeing.”

You’re disappointed that you cannot look down to see the pout that is so evident in his voice as he retorts, “Well it wouldn’t look good if I were to go out with a young maiden, and return back with her maimed. People might talk.”

“People will always talk, regardless,” you say, pulling yourself up to the ledge at the front of the opening. “Don’t fear, Pegasus are only aggressive to those they deem to have a wicked soul. Which means I’ll be fine. But you might need to watch out.”

Before Jungkook can shoot back a reply, you turn your attention to the opening that houses the nest. The space is large, big enough for a pegasus. Peering in, you see that the nest is empty of any life, but the small cave is filled with exactly what you need – feathers caught on the rocky outcroppings. Pulling out a bottle from your satchel, you scoop up a few feathers, and preserved them in your glass. The feathers sparkle slightly in the sunshine that throws slanted rays into the cave. Satisfied with your find, you get ready to climb back down.

Just then, you hear a shout, and peer down to see Jungkook waving his hands at you from the bottom of the steep rock face. He gesticulates wildly, pointing downstream. You look in that direction, a spot the white shape of a pegasus, just before it plummets down with a splash into the Waye.

Quickly, you scramble down the rocks, and sprint to the river, where you see the water running red. An arrow is sticking from the flank of the pegasus, which raises its head above the water, straining to get up, before it flops down again. Horrified, you scan the area, trying to figure out where the arrow was fired from. It doesn’t take you long. Two poachers approach, a net swinging from their hands.

“Oi, get away from that creature,” one of them shouts upon spotting you.

“What are you going to do with it?” you ask, moving your body to block the pegasus.

“We’re going to make a fortune peddling off it’s body parts to alchemists,” the shorter of the two informs you, “Those occultists pay a hefty price for hair and feathers you know, not to mention a fresh heart, or a vial of blood.”

You grit your teeth, standing up straighter, “It’s a negative stereotype that alchemists use blood and hearts in their potions. And the hair and feathers are only useful if they’ve come from a living creature. You’re wasting your time if you think you’ll make money killing and harvesting this animal.”

The taller one laughs – an ugly sound that sends a shudder through you. “And what would you know about alchemy, wench? If I have questions about my cooking, or my laundry I’ll come to you.  So how about you keep your mouth shut on things you know nothing about?”

Stifling your rage, your bite back, “I’m not letting you near this creature. Not one step further.”

“Oh, well, aren’t you just a darling bloody saint. Protecting the innocent fauna of the land. I don’t remember asking for a sermon on the morality of killing dumb animals.” Your eye catches the movement of the taller man’s hand to the hilt of his sword. “Now, I would suggest you get out of the way, before I make you get out of the way.”

You size the two men up, and swallow. You have a small dagger on your hip, usually used for cutting plant shoots. Not much use against two swords. Still, you bring your hand to your hip in anticipation, unwilling to back down.

“I order you to stop!”

You glance towards the source of the voice. Jungkook is standing behind you with his rapier raised, his stance indicating years of training in fencing. With two calculated blows he could puncture the stomachs of both poachers. The two men blanche.

Nonetheless, the shorter of the two poachers blusters on, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, son of the duke of Braewyth. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you two gentlemen that pegasus are considered an endangered species, and it’s a criminal offence to poach them, punishable by a good flogging in Sientha square.”

The shorter poacher swallows, his hand wavering.

The taller of the two is only all the more incited. “I don’t give a fuck. You’re not a king. Not even a prince. Just some lesser noble with a silver spoon shoved up your arse. What are you going to do, report me? We’re out in the middle of fuck-knows where, and you’re outnumbered, two to one.” He raises his sword.

“Actually, it’s two against two,” you correct him, unsheathing your dagger.

“Well that seems fair then, doesn’t it,” Jungkook purrs, “Fine, I suppose I’ll just have to punish you myself, seeing as we’re in the middle of “fuck-knows where”, as you so eloquently put it.”

The shorter of the two gulps audibly, and then turns tail and begins running in the opposite direction, slipping over the mossy rocks by the Waye’s bank.

A wiser man would have retreated, but it appears that the taller poacher is somewhat lacking in cognitive ability. With a roar, he lunges at Jungkook, who easily pirouettes out of reach, leaving the lanky man to swipe at thin air. Growling, the man rights himself, and launches at Jungkook, but the duke’s son easily parries the blow with his blade, a metallic clang echoing in the valley. The poacher stumbles back, grimacing. Seeing that he has underestimated the “lesser noble”, the poacher makes a grab for you instead.

You attempt to duck out of the way, but slip on the wet rocks, and feel a clammy hand grab around your wrist, pulling you into the hard body of the poacher. Up close, he smells of onions and beer. You struggle against him, but upon feeling cold steel at your throat, you freeze.

“Not another move,” the poacher growls, “Or this wench gets it.”

You glance at Jungkook, who stands poised, with rapier raised. An expression of fear flashes across his face, like a fleeting cloud on a sunny day, passing so fast, you could convince yourself you imagined it.

The poacher’s plot could have worked out for him, had he not underestimated your strength.

As he leers at Jungkook, you grasp at the advantage of surprise. With a sudden twist, like a striking viper, your hand – still holding the dagger - snaps up, and strikes the man on the side of the head with the hard wooden hilt. The man crumples with a screech.

You leap away. At the exact same instant, Jungkook jumps forward. You turn to see the son of the duke standing over the poacher, his rapier raised to the tall man’s stubbly throat. The poacher whimpers, with one hand clutching his face where you struck him. A trickle of blood trails down the wrinkles of his face.

“Now listen carefully,” Jungkook says, his voice low and dangerous, “I could kill you right here. But I’m choosing to spare you. I would suggest you get off your sorry arse, get up, and run away. Take your possessions, your wife and children – if you have any – and flee this duchy. Because know that you are a wanted man while you remain in the borders of Braewyth. I know your face, and soon ever guard in our troops will know it too. The punishment for poaching endangered creatures is flogging. The punishment for an attempt on the heir of the duchy’s life is the gallows. There will not be mercy the second time. Do I make myself clear?”

The man nods, slowly and carefully, his throat strained below the point of Jungkook’s rapier.

Jungkook lifts the blade. “Go.”

The poacher does not need any more prodding. Scrambling to his feet, he flees, glancing behind him every so often, as if he is scared that Jungkook will change his mind and follow after him.

Jungkook breathes a sigh, sheathing his rapier. The sweat on his neck is the only indication that he was at all shaken by the encounter. Your return your dagger to the holster on your hip, and turn your attention to the pegasus which still lies in the shallow portion of the river, breathing heavily. You carefully walk over, and inspect the damage.

There’s one arrow lodged in its side, but from the other gashes on its white coat, it appears that several other arrows hit, but subsequently fell out, leaving the creature to bleed from multiple open wounds. The pegasus lets out a distressed whinny as you approach, and makes an attempt to get up. Its legs shake, and it collapses back with a splash, too weak to run away. It has already lost a lot of blood.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I’m not going to hurt you.” You know the creature can’t understand you, but you hope your tone is at least soothing. The pegasus thrashes in the shallow water, but realising it is too weak to move, it resolves itself to its fate, and lays its head down.

You crouch next to it, ignoring the cold water that soaks into your boots and riding trousers. Carefully, you pull a bottle from your satchel, and uncork it. You are thankful that you often carry first aid potions around. Wafting the bottle under the pegasus’ nose, you watch as it inhales the scent of your soothing potion and relaxes. With the creature sedated, you pull the arrow from the skin, and apply pressure to staunch the flow of blood that follows. Hunting in your satchel, you pull out a second potion, filled with healing balm. Pouring the thick green liquid onto your palms, you begin massaging it onto the pegasus’ open wounds. The smell of lavender and sage emanates from the balm, covering up the bitter metallic smell of blood.

Straightening up, you back away from the pegasus. The creature tentatively stands up, taking a few hesitant steps forward. Strengthened and emboldened, the pegasus canters forward with a whicker, its large wings ruffling as it takes flight.

“What did you give it?” Jungkook asks, watching the pegasus soar towards its nest.

“A simple Salutare Decoction,” you tell him, “Made to soothe and heal wounds, and-”

“And restore vitality. Yes, I know the one,” Jungkook interrupts, “I’ve never seen it used in practice.”

You flash him a cocky smile. “There’s no shame in admitting you’re impressed by my talents, Mr. Jeon.”

The heir of the duchy grimaces, “I’ll be impressed if you can actually make the Impetus Amor.”

“Oh, you of little faith. Are you allergic to admiring anyone who isn’t yourself?”

“Don’t get too arrogant, little alchemist.” Jungkook tramps back to his horse, his back a silhouette of irritation with shoulders hunched and head lowered. “Don’t forget who saved you from those poachers, you ungrateful wench.”

You snort,  walking back to your mare, “Some help you were when I had a blade held to my throat...”

“If you had been alone, you would have been slashed to ribbons,” Jungkook parries, hoisting himself into his saddle. With a dig of his heels, his stallion canters forward before you can get another word in.

By the time you’ve swung yourself into your saddle, Jungkook is far ahead, and you know there’s no way your mare can catch up with Jungkook’s brawny stallion.

Clucking at your ebony horse, you encourage her into a trot, muttering insults that Jungkook will never hear while you weave down the path back to Sientha.

✽ ✽ ✽

With the necessary ingredients, you’re finally able to start work on the Impetus Amor once you return to your shop. There’s no sign of Jungkook as you work throughout the rest of the day, and of that you are glad.

If you never see his cocky face again, it’ll be too soon for you. Yet, as you crush down thin sheets of gold into fine dust, his visage clouds your vision. Even as you watch the pegasus feathers steep in rose water, the shimmering sheen slowing leeching from the feather into the liquid, you cannot shake his sure smile and steadfast gaze from your clouded thoughts.

Dazed, you extract the feather from the liquid, leaving behind the opalescent rose water. The ingredients are ready. You simply have to wait. The next blue moon will be soon – a lucky coincidence.

Your luck is sure to run out eventually.

✽ ✽ ✽

On the night of the blue moon, once your shop is closed for the evening, you begin to prepare for the brewing of the potion. You start by getting your ingredients together, setting them up in a semicircle around your caldron. While you may have no control over your own life, you can easily command ingredients to do your bidding, controlling the brewing process and modifying as you go. The whole process is a soothing ritual for you.

At least it would be, if it weren’t for an irksome knocking coming from your door.

Sighing, you leave your ingredients by the caldron, and go to the door. You slide back the wooden latch, and outside you see -

“Jungkook?”

He stands, illuminated in a halo from the lanterns outside.

You wrinkle your nose. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet the heir of the duchy?”

Rolling your eyes, you open the door to him, “Mr. Jeon, what an honour to see you at the threshold of my humble shop. Please make yourself at home. Is that any better?”

“A little,” Jungkook steps inside your shop.

You’re already seething, and he hasn’t even been in your presence for more than a minute. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I needed your expertise on something,” Jungkook says, sauntering over to your counter, and leaning against it.

You snort. “I find it hard to believe you think anyone besides yourself has any expertise.”

“Your words sting, little alchemist,” his eyes drag across the supplies lined on the shelves of your shop, before finally coming to rest on you. “I came here for some advice. Yes, yes, take time to gloat if it makes you feel better.” He waves a dismissive hand.

The gloating wouldn’t feel so good with his dark eyes piercing yours. You swallow, and stay silent.

“I need a potion to help me stay awake,” Jungkook admits.

You raise your brows. “It’s not healthy to stay awake for long periods of time, Mr. Jeon.”

“Well of course. It’s a one-off, naturally,” he shrugs at your concerns, “I’m just a little tied up you see. I promised a lovely lady that I’d take her dancing this evening, but I also have a commitment to the duchy, and that means being in attendance at an early morning meeting tomorrow. I was quite hoping to spend some quality time with the lady tonight, if you understand my meaning.”

“Are you sure it’s not an aphrodisiac you’re after instead?” you quip.

Jungkook raises his brows in feigned surprise. “What do you take me for? Some kind of cad?”

“Are you not a cad?” You examine him skeptically, “I see you around town with a different lady each day. What conclusions am I supposed to draw?”

“Well, perhaps you’re not so wrong,” Jungkook grins, “Just don’t tell the ladies that.”

“Don’t worry. They’re all too posh to speak to me, let alone believe my accusations that Jeon Jungkook is a good for nothing bounder who only cares about the delicacies that hide beneath their petticoats and pantaloons.”

“Can you help with the potion or not?” Jungkook has grown bored of your jokes.

Stepping behind your counter, you begin to rummage around the shelves. “Luckily for you, Vigil Concoction only takes a few minutes to brew.” You grab a jar of rhodiola rosea, along with a fine iron powder, and the scales of a mermaid. Crushing the aquamarine scales to a fine dust, you mix the ingredients together with a drop of lime juice. Jungkook watches, fascinated, as you pour the ingredients into a clean caldron, and bring the concoction to a boil. The smell of brine mixed with lime cuts through the air.

Jungkook's eyes wander over to the ingredients set aside for the Impetus Amor. “I see you’re finally going to be brewing it tonight,” he nods at the ingredients.

“Yes, I was about to before you interrupted,” you say, stirring the Vigil Concoction.

“So if it’s brewed tonight, it should be ready in a few days, correct?”

You sigh, and affirm, “Correct.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait until then to see if you were actually successful.”

You wince. You had been hoping that Jungkook would forget your wager. Instead of continuing that train of thought, you change the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, why not cancel your plans with this maiden, and attend the meeting. Any lady would be more than willing to change her plans for you.”

Jungkook sighs, “Actually, meeting with her was my father’s idea.”

You pause stirring the concoction to eye Jungkook with curiosity. “I didn’t take the duke to be the type to encourage copulation with fair damsels.”

“Wether I have sexual relations with the women does not matter,” Jungkook blushes, “My father is insistent that I find a wife.”

You splutter, and his dark eyes flash.

“Did I say something that amused you?”

“No, sorry,” you focus your attention on the potion, “It’s simply difficult to imagine you settling down with a woman.”

“What can I say. Most of the women I meet are a bore. Perfectly satisfactory in the bedroom, but useless outside of it. I struggle to hold a conversation with any of them. I need a lady with more substance if I am to wed her, not just bed her.”

“It must be such a chore being forced to spend time with all those beautiful women,” you tease, decanting the potion into a vial and corking it. Handing it across the counter to Jungkook, you warn, “Wait until it cools down before you consume it.” Your hand brushes against his as he takes the vial.

“Listen,” his voice is quieter, and despite yourself, you find you are trapped in his gaze, “I do not want you to think less of me for this conversation. When I find the right lady, I’ll settle down. I won’t be a cad. I..” he trails off, pocketing the vial. “I… well. Thank you for your help.”

You nod, unsure how to interpret his words. Taking on a professional tone, you say, “The concoction will work for about twelve hours, and will keep you alert and sleepless in that time. Once the twelve hours are up, you may find yourself dozing off quickly, so do be mindful of that.”

“Thank you.” With that, Jungkook leaves your shop. You stand in your empty store, thrown off by the unexpected distraction he caused.

Shaking your head from your hazy thoughts, you get back to the business of brewing Impetus Amor. You sit down in front of the cauldron, with enough ingredients to make several batches. You carefully measure each ingredient out, pouring them into the caldron’s black maw, while the light from the blue moon shines in through the shop window. You murmur a few words as smoke begins to rise from the caldron. The words come from an ancient civilisation, now long dead. The accent is strange and heavy on your tongue. It is the words that are the most demanding part. One wrong inflection, one stutter, and the potion’s strength will wane, or even fade completely. You’ve practiced each phrase thoroughly, just to be safe. As you stir, the liquid in the potion changes from pale translucent to an opaque pearlescent pink. A success. Working quickly, you pour the mixture into an alembic to distill.

Now all that’s left to do is wait.

✽ ✽ ✽

The days pass quicker than you expect, with nothing much to note, apart from the weekend, when a young lady wanders into your shop with a tear stained face, asking for a potion to mend a broken heart. You could have sworn you had seen the lady with her arm strung through Jungkook’s the previous day. You do not comment as you hand her a bottle of Cor Integro.

At last, the Impetus Amor is ready, and right on cue, so is Jungkook. He walks into the shop as you are bottling the love potion.

“Is that it?” His eyes flash over the contents of the glass bottle.

You nod.

“May I?” He holds out a hand, and you hesitate, before relinquishing the bottle to him.

And so concludes the list of bad decisions you made concerning Impetus Amor.

He holds it up to the light, inspecting intently. “Well, it certainly looks convincing. But I suppose we won’t actually know if it works unless we test it.”

The bad feeling forming in your stomach has arrived too late to warn you. Jungkook is already pulling out the cork, and downing the contents of the bottle.

This is how you end up with Jungkook, the one man you cannot stand, drinking your love potion. The first person he looks at will be the one he falls for. He’s looking at you.

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

“Mighty gods above, what is wrong with you? You know very well how long that took to brew!” Your attempt to restrain your tone is unsuccessful. Anger pours freely from your words.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough. Looks like the potion doesn’t even work anyway. And on top of that, it tasted bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you remind him. “In one hour, it will begin to take effect, and you will be reduced to a fawning dolt, drooling over my every move.”

“That will only happen if the potion actually works. Which it may not.” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow at you, so sure of himself it makes you want to scream. “I cannot have you selling snake oil to the people of Braewyth.”

You are physically trembling with anger. “That potion is incredibly expensive. You’ll have to pay for it.”

“Fret not, you’ll get your money… if it works.” He swivels around, and is about to make for the door, but you dash in from of him, blocking off his means of escape. “I won’t allow you to leave,” you say, “You’ll make a complete fool of yourself if you’re free to roam the streets under the influence of a love potion.”

Jungkook blinks – innocent – and then laughs, “Come now. It won’t be that bad.”

“Yes. Yes, it will be that bad,” you insist, “I’m keeping you here until I can cure you. The last thing we want is for you to cause a scandal.”

Jungkook’s Adam’s apple bobs, finally realising that you’re being serious. “What will the potion do to me?”

“You should have asked before you drank the potion.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes, “It might not work. We still don’t know.” His eyes are wide, like a deer that’s spotted a hunter with an arrow aimed at its heart. “What will it do?”

“It will make you fall in love with me,” you say, “Of course. On top of that, it will cause you great physical pain any time you are not close to me. It will make you desperate for physical contact.”

Jungkook swallows thickly. “Well… let’s… uh… hope you got it wrong then, hmm?”

You frown. “I’ve half a mind to throw you out into the street to make a complete fool of yourself, screaming your love for all bystanders to hear.”

“Surely you’ve got a cure,” Jungkook pleads.

You grit your teeth. “You can’t expect me to simply fix every problem with a magical potion, Mr. Jeon. Alchemy doesn’t always work like that.”

“I’m sorry!” Jungkook blurts, “There, I said it. I’m sorry! I know I’ve cocked up. And I know I take your abilities for granted. I underestimate you all the time. I’m sorry, alright? But you have had it out for me from the moment you met me. You hated me before you even knew me. I don’t know why, but I’m sorry for that too. Now can you please stop piling on the blame and help me?” He holds up his hands, plaintive, “Please. I can’t do this by myself.”

Your shoulders slump. You want to be angry. All you feel is pity.

“Aright, Jungkook,” you concede, “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” his voice is soft.

You set the sign on your shop door to ‘Closed’, and bolt it. Then, you move across to your shelf of books. You know that one of these tomes must contain an antidote for a love potion. It’s not something you’ve made before, and you cannot remember which volume it is in, but you know it must be there. You scan the indexes, the pile of rejected tomes towering taller as you search through each book for any help it may provide.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sits on a stool by the counter, fidgeting awkwardly. 

At last, in your copy of Payne and Nash’s Antidotes for Advanced Alchemy, you find a potion called Aphrodite’s Cure – an antidote for love potions and aphrodisiacs.

Your finger mechanically runs down the list, checking off each one.

Extract from a siren’s tongue

Sap from a cherry tree

Crushed topaz

You have all those items in your shop. If you believed in the goddess, you would be praising her now. Your finger stops, hovering over the brewing time, spelled out in black ink. Two hours.

“Well, Jungkook...” The duke’s son looks up at the sound of your voice. “I’ve found a cure I can brew, but it will take two hours.”

Jungkook’s hopeful expression falls. “Well, I suppose I can bear being in love with a pain in the arse like you for two hours. Even if you are… the most… the most... beautiful maiden I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He leaps up from his stool.

Your heart pounds, animalistic instincts telling you to run far away.

Still you remain frozen to the spot, while Jungkook makes his way around the counter to grab at you, pulling you close. Your chest presses against his, while his hands grip your waist.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jungkook murmurs, “Forgive me for not telling you earlier.”

Your curse silently, caught in Jungkook’s ardent gaze. Your potion had worked wonders... unfortunately. “Does this drivel normally work on the maidens you woo?” you ask, pushing him away.

He winces as you part. “Please, my dear, it hurts when you force us apart.”

You remember the side effect of Impetus Amor embodies itself as physical pain when a couple is not  close to one another. Despite your disdain for Jungkook, you feel a pang of pity for him. “Okay,’ you say, “You may stay near my side. But you can’t get in my way while I work on an antidote for you.”

“But I don’t want to be cured,” Jungkook retorts, “I’m in love with you, and it feels wonderful. I never realised how good it would feel to experience true love. You truly wish to part me from this happiness?”

“Yes. You asked for this. Remember that.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “My past self did not know what he was talking about. I wish to stay by your side, forever..”

“No matter what I do,” you say, “The effects will wear off in a week. I’m merely expediting the process to save you the embarrassment that will follow.”

Firmly, you move away from Jungkook, fetching a bottle of siren’s tongue extract from the top shelf behind your counter, before you dig out your crushed topaz and cherry tree sap from a cupboard. You sit down in front of your caldron and let Jungkook take a seat beside you. His hand comes to rest on your knee. You startle at his touch.

“You said I could stay close to you,” he says, “Sorry, is this too much?”

You shrug. “Do what you need to. Just don’t get in my way.” As you pour the potions into the caldron and begin stirring over a low flame, you try to ignore the heat in your body, shooting up from the spot on your leg where Jungkook’s palm rests. The ingredients begin to bubble in the caldron. You watch carefully, smelling the steam that rises, hoping to discern clues on the quality of the brew. When the scent of caramel begins to waft from the caldron, you remove it from the heat, and allow it to sit for a few minutes before you transfer it to a flask where if will sit for two hours, allowing the ingredients to cool and fully incorporate into Aphrodite’s Cure.

“Well, Jungkook, now we wait.”

He huffs, “I already told you, I don’t want to be cured.”

“Tough,” you tell him. “Eventually you will be, whether you like it or not. Then you’ll be on your own to deal with the shame that follows. I’m not helping you with that.”

He bristles. “I don’t find being in love with you shameful. Not at all. After all, you’re strong-willed, and intelligent, not to mention beautiful! You have more wit and personality than most other women I have wooed. If I were to be embarrassed at the idea of loving you, I ought to cringe at the idea of having bedded the other women.”

“Well, you shan’t be ‘bedding’ me,” you say, “You can’t get between my legs just by flashing me a favourable look.”

Jungkook’s face falls, “You wound me, my dear. You truly believe I only have carnal pleasures on my mind. Do not worry. I know you need respect and commitment before you would allow a man to  crawl between the sheets with you.”

You feel your cheeks burning with a blush. “Let me guess – you wish to be the man who will show me that respect and commitment, and will crawl between the sheets with me?”

“Listen,” Jungkook diverges from your pointed question, “I know I need time to prove myself to you. I haven’t shown you my best side while I’ve been around you. I can only ask that you forgive me, and let me show you how much better I can be.”

“I’m used to the way you treat me.” You move away from Jungkook, but he grabs onto you, hands desperate.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving. I just need to get on with work. You may have forced me to close my shop, but that doesn’t mean I can sit and twiddle my thumbs for two hours until you’re cured.”

“But I want to sit here with you,” Jungkook whines. The potion doesn’t seem to have just struck him down with love, but also to have turned him into a pouty brat with the attitude of a spoiled toddler.

Give me strength. “Let me guess,” you say, “You want to hold me, and kiss me? Am I right?”

Jungkook’s face turns red. “You shame me my dear, for it seems you have been reading my thoughts. Forgive me, but how can I help but dream of such things, when you are so comely.”

You try not to roll your eyes. Men under the influence of Impetus Amor are intolerable.

You catch a hold of his hand, which is grabbing your right wrist, and wrench him off you. “Jungkook, I am refusing you for your own good.”

“I do not believe that to be true,” Jungkook says as you pry yourself from him, and begin to scour your shelves for any bottles that appear to be running low. The duke’s son follows you around like a lovesick puppy while you pull out a piece of parchment and begin walking along the shelves taking note of vials and containers that are running empty, so you can get fresh ingredients at the next opportunity. Your hands need to be busy. You feel hapless otherwise.

“I truly believe,” Jungkook pipes up behind you, “That even when this potion wears off, I will still be in love with you. I believe that I have been in love with you for a while.”

You snort a laugh, “You truly do amuse me, Jungkook.”

“Is it so hard to believe I could fall for you?”

You spin around to face Jungkook. He is much closer than you anticipated. A gasp breaks your lips.

“Listen, little alchemist,” his eyes bore into yours, as you step back, your spine pressing against the shelf behind you, “I’ve been trying to fight these feelings, for I know my father would not approve of a woman who is not noble-born, yet I still find myself drawn to you. I wander aimlessly to your shop, just to catch a glimpse of you, just to feel the warmth of your company. And you would scoff at this?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. The words are difficult to get past your teeth. “You’re lying. It’s just the potion talking.”

“Why would I lie?” Jungkook’s eyes are troubled, “I’ve been falling slowly, ever since I met you. I tried to push off the feelings by treating you harshly. I tried to forget them in the arms of another lover. But still… I always find myself coming back to you.” He lifts a hand, fingers gentle against your cheek. You shiver at his touch. “It’s always you, little alchemist.”

Your lips curl in amusement. “You almost convinced me Jungkook. You speak so earnestly…” You take his hand in your own, pull it away from your face, and let it drop to his side.

His eyes cloud over. “Being unable to touch you, it hurts me physically, you know.”

“I know.” A shard of sympathy embeds in your chest. “It won’t last long though, I promise. I’ll cure you soon.”

“While we wait,” Jungkook’s eyes are dark, “Could you spare me one kiss? Just to ease the pain?”

“Jungkook,” your hand goes to his chest, rising up to rest on his shoulder, “The potion worked. You lost the wager. You were only to get a kiss if you won.”

“Please,” the word falls soft from his mouth.

You stand transfixed, stuck between your shelf of potions, and Jungkook’s body. His face is mere inches from your own. A dreadful curiosity sweeps over you, one that you know you should ignore. Yet, Jungkook is here before you, eyes urgent, and you are tired of fighting him.

“One kiss,” you murmur, “That’s all I’ll allow.”

His hands find purchase on your waist as he moves closer. Your eyelids flutter shut as his breath fans your cheeks, smelling of rose and gold dust. His lips are warm as they settle on your own, mapping out your mouth. You fall captive to the sensation, and suddenly, you understand the appeal that draws countless women to Jungkook’s side. He may be a pain in the arse, but he is wonderfully skilled when it comes to kissing.

Pressed against the shelf, you give in to the affections from a man you were sure you hated. You promise yourself, as his lips part from yours, that you will wipe this feeling from your memory. Yet, even as Jungkook draws back, the ghost of his warmth haunts you.

Lost for words, you blink in the dim light of your shop, suddenly too bright after the dark of closed eyelids. Jungkook leans back against the counter, eyes fixed on you. You struggle, unsure what to say. Instead of saying anything, you simply return to the chores you had assigned yourself, mechanically checking off ingredients on your piece of parchment.

At the counter, Jungkook is suspiciously silent. After a long pause, he finally asks, “What will happen to me when the effects of the potion are cured?”

You turn back to him. “You will forget most of this. It will all feel hazy, like a dream. And you’ll feel a little unwell. Headaches are normal after such strong potions take effect. Some people also suffer nausea, but that depends on one’s constitution. You’ll only suffer for an hour or so, then it should wear off.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Jungkook says gently.

You swallow, understanding, “Your feelings will depart. Whatever you are feeling for me now will be replaced with your genuine feelings, so you’ll go back to hating me I suspect.”

Jungkook’s face falls, “I don’t hate you.”

“Well then you’ll go back to mild indifference,” you say, turning back to your shelf to continue working, while Jungkook sits down at the counter, silent.

The hours drag on, with Jungkook’s eyes following your every move. Occasionally, he expresses a desire for physical contact to stop the pain. When he does so, you return to his side, and gently press your palm to his. The action seems to be enough for him.

At last, the hour glass has run through twice, and the potion is ready. You carefully decant it into a vial, and set it in front of Jungkook.

He catches your gaze, “I… I don’t want this.”

“Jungkook, please,” you press your hand to his one last time, “You need to. No matter what, the Impetus Amor will wear off. I’ll still be here when you’re cured.”

His face firms into an expression your don’t recognise, and with a resolute, swift motion, he tips the contents of the vial into his mouth in one go, swallowing with a groan. “You did not warn me that it would taste repulsive.”

“You were already reluctant to take it.”

Jungkook groans again, lowering his head so that his forehead rests on the wooden counter top, “By the goddess, I feel like death. Do you have a potion for a headache?”

“Not one caused by the after effects of Impetus Amor,” you say, “But I do have herbal tea.”

“Yes please.”

Glad to have a task to distract you, you busy yourself with boiling the water and fetching tea leaves.

From his spot at the counter, Jungkook moans, “I embarrassed myself greatly, didn’t I?”

Watching a pleasing golden red spread out from the tea leaves into the boiled water, you reply, “That depends on what you deem to be embarrassing.”

Jungkook grimaces as he lifts his head slightly, then, upon reconsideration, lowers his head again. The colour has drained from his face.

“I imagine you were acting the way you normally would around any fair lady you intended to woo. You were fine. Quite respectful, actually.”

“Please, I don’t wish to remember,” Jungkook moves his head so that his cheek now rests on the counter.

You pass a cup of fresh tea across to him, ‘That should make you feel a little better,” you say.

“I owe you a ‘thank you’,” Jungkook raises his head to blow on the steam rising from the tea cup, “And an apology as well, I fancy.”

You pause, not expecting to hear those words from him.

“I’ve been an arse,” Jungkook says.

“It’s not often you and I agree on something, Jungkook.”

He laughs wryly. “Well, I can’t deny it, can I? I wasted your time and energy today, and for that, I am sorry. From, Jeon Jungkook, son of the duke of Braewyth, to you, master alchemist and potions-brewer extraordinaire, as my equal, please accept my sincere apologies, and my humble gratitude.” He bows his head.

You are unsure how to react, throat tight. All you can muster is an insincere chuckle, and a feeble “No need to be so formal... If you really want to apologise you can give me the gold you promised since it would appear I won this wager.”

“Oh, right!” Jungkook digs in his pockets.

Suddenly, strangely, you feel unsure of yourself. “Listen, I was just joking. I don’t need the money. Really...”

“Nonsense,” Jungkook dumps a sack of coin on the table. “It’s yours, fair and square.” He grins at you and takes a sip of his tea. “This brew really seems to be helping.” As he downs the rest f the cup, you busy your hands with the bottles on your shelf, straightening them so they stand in a tidy row. Jungkook glances through the window of your shop, where the sky above the roofs of the town is turning gold with the setting of the sun. “I’d better head off,” he says, “My father arranged a ball for the eligible women of Braewyth to attend, and he’s hoping I’ll meet someone there. And by someone, I mean specifically Lady Antille from the province of Armestice.” He grimaces. “I’ve heard she’s a dreadful bore. Not to mention there’ll be lots of business men at the dance, hoping to make a good impression, and get funding from my father’s treasury. So overall, I have a very pleasant evening ahead of me.”

“Do you think you’ll ever find a woman you’re happy with?” you ask.

Jungkook wavers on the question, “I’m… not sure. I think I’m cursed by the fact that most noble women are not at all appealing to me.”

You shrug, “It’s all just a pantomime isn’t it? Performing the proper etiquette. Perhaps once the women have a chance to drop the pretence of politeness, you’ll get to know them for who they truly are, and you’ll realise they aren’t as bad as you think.”

“Perhaps,” he looks unconvinced, “But I doubt I’ll have the time for that. My father is hoping I’ll drop down to one knee and propose as soon as I lock eyes with the right woman.”

“Maybe Lady Antille will be the lucky one,” you say.

“The longer this goes on, the more I worry my father will simply pick a lady for me, and force me to marry.”

“I hope not.”

He nods, “Yes. So do I.” He turns for the door.

“Enjoy your evening, Jungkook.”

He pauses at the door, and turns back to look at you, with a gentle smile. “You’ve started calling me Jungkook instead of Mr. Jeon,” he notes.

“Oh, sorry,” your hand springs to your mouth, “Is it improper?”

“A little bit improper,” He smiles, “I like it.”

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye...” He looks into your eyes, sunshine bathing him from the windows, and your name is soft on his lips. Not ‘little alchemist’. Not ‘wench’. Not ‘my dear’. Just your name. A warmth spreads from your stomach through the rest of your body.

You smile as he closes the door behind him, leaving you alone with the smell of herbal tea filling the shop.

✽ ✽ ✽

As darkness descends on your shop, the sun sinking lower, a lady enters. You recognise the red hood, lowered over her eyes and nose.

“Good evening,” you welcome her as you would all other customers.

Rather than greeting you, she simply asks, “Is the Impetus Amor ready?” Her tone is hushed, despite being the sole customer in your store.

Thankful that you had the foresight to create more than one batch of the potion, you fetch it from your cupboard and place the vial on the counter top in front of her. The potion shines, pearlescent in the fading sunshine.

The lady pushes back a blonde lock from her face, and her shapely lips smile below her hood. “Wonderful. Thank you.” She tales the vial, and places it into her purse. You notice her splendid gown beneath the folds of her red cloak. Only a rich lady could afford such a potion. And such expensive silk. You sigh, despite yourself.

The lady tosses another pouch of gold onto the counter top. “I trust that you will not tell anyone of this exchange.”

You pause, wondering what she means. “All my customer’s orders are confidential,” you assure her.

She nods, satisfied, and swivels on her heel, exiting the shop. As she leaves, she bumps into an older lady who is making her way into your shop. You recognise the older lady, Myrrh, who is one of your regulars. The younger lady’s red hood slips down as she passes Myrrh, revealing a head of golden curls.

“Oh, sorry dear,” Myrrh says.

The golden haired lady bows her head, quickly pulling up her hood again. “Think nothing of it.” With that, she slips into the darkening evening.

Myrrh approaches your counter, while you retrieve her order from the shelf behind you – Fons Iuventae, for aches and pains afflicting old joints. “Well, I never realised you got such fancy clientele in your store, dear,” Myrrh observes, as she counts out her silver coins for you.

You smile, “Her appearance here surprised me as much as it did you, Myrrh.”

The older lady chuckles, ‘Imagine! Lady Antille, in this shop! The store will be the talk of the town soon, I’m sure.”

“Lady Antille?”

Myrrh gives you a strange look as she hands her coins across to you. “You didn’t recognise the Lady of Armestice?”

You shake your head.

“Ah, well now you know,” Myrrh says, “Imagine, me bumping into her like that.” She takes her bottle of Fons Iuventae and heads for the door. You follow behind her, and flip over your store sign to ‘Closed’ once she leaves. The last dregs of sunlight seep through the window. With the shop shut for the night, you go and sit behind the counter, thoughts running at a thousand miles a minute. You know that you should not concern yourself with your customer’s potion usage. After all, you simply provide. You are not responsible for the actions that follow. Yet, you cannot help but have your suspicions.

Before you realise what you are doing, you pick up a vial of Aphrodite’s Cure from yoru counter. Your body leads you to the door, grabbing your satchel, and your cloak, pulling it around you before you step out onto the cobbled street. Your feet lead you to the stable, where you quickly saddle up your mare, and spur her into the dark of night.

The road that leads out of Sientha winds down towards the large mansion where the duke of Braewyth resides. Everyone in Braewyth is familiar with the sugar white house that stands tall, behind a maze of rose bushes. As you ride towards the mansion, rain begins to pelt down, stinging at your cheeks. You continue regardless, pressing your heels into your mare’s side, encouraging her on. You push her harder than you’ve pushed her before, hurtling down the road at a frantic gallop. The mare’s breathing is hard, foam flies from her mouth. Dirt flies from her hooves, kicking up the mud washed onto the road.

Ahead of you, past the sheets of rain, you spot the lights of the Braewyth mansion. Reigning in your mare, you stop her a few paces before the gate, and tie her by one of the trees. She’s breathing heavily, and you give her a reassuring pat before you make for the gates.

A guard, who was leaning lazily against the gate, stands to attention when you approach, raising his spear. “Halt.”

“Please,” you hold up your hands to him, showing that you are unarmed, “I wish to speak with Jeon Jungkook.”

The guard squints at you through the rain. “And who might you be?”

You hesitate. “I’m his alchemy tutor.” Technically not a lie.

“I wasn’t told you would be arriving,” the guard says, “Do you have an invitation to the ball that you can show me?” He sweeps a skeptical gaze over your trousers, flecked with mud, and your fur hood, soaked with rain.

“Please, it’s urgent,” you say.

In the gloom, you see the guard raise his eyebrows.

You wrack your brain, “I have a potion for Jeon Jungkook. He asked me to deliver it to him personally before the ball began.”

“He never told me of this plan.”

Just then, by the mercy of the universe – or perhaps the goddess – Jungkook appears at the other side of the gate.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon,” the guard smiles at you gleefully, hoping to have caught you in a lie, “Have you met this wench before?”

Jungkook walks up to the gate, “Of course. Let her in at once.”

The guard’s mouth hangs open for a slit second, before he quickly corrects his expression, and bows to the heir of Braewyth. “Yes. Right away!” He opens the gate, and scurries to get out of your way.

You hurry over the threshold, and begin walking with Jungkook towards the Braewyth mansion.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, once you are out of earshot of the guard.

“What about you?” you say, “Do you make it a habit to walk around the garden while it’s tipping it down with rain?”

“I needed some fresh air, and I heard a commotion from the gate,” Jungkook explains, “But I really think you’re the one who ought to be explaining yourself.”

“I...” you’re unsure where to begin, “Has Lady Antille arrived yet?”

“Not yet,” Jungkook says, “Now, will you please stop answering my question with more questions.”

“Sorry,” you swallow, suddenly realising how silly your reasoning will sound.

Jungkook waits, while you remain silent, walking down the path through the rose bushes.

You take a deep breath, “This may sound mad, but I have reason to believe that Lady Antille plans to use Impetus Amor on your tonight.”

Jungkook’s expression turns frosty. “You’re not jesting?”

You nod. “I could be wrong. But the lady who purchased Impetus Amor was Antille. I did not recognise her at first. I suppose it could merely be coincidence, and she is using it for someone else, but I wanted to warn you, just in case.”

Jungkook is grave. “I suppose it would make sense. After all, a marriage into the Braewyth duchy would be beneficial for the province of Armestice.  The province is too small to defend itself, so would be willing to seek the protection of a more powerful duchy.” He turns his eyes to you. “Will you be able to stay here with me tonight? I must be in attendance at the ball, and avoiding Lady Antille there is out of the question. If she does try anything, will you be ready to help me?”

You nod, “I have the cure in my satchel, just in case.”

Jungkook nods, taking your hand, and leading you up the marble steps to the mansion door. “Alright, if you’re staying, then you need to get changed.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not mean to offend, but your trousers won’t be acceptable attire for the ball.”

You swallow as you step into the house. The hallways are greater – both wider and taller - than you had anticipated, with lush white carpets that your feet sink into. You wince at the mud trailed in by your boots.

“Whyn!” Jungkook calls, and a flushed looking maid appears on cue, bowing before him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“Can you help my lady friend? She needs to be cleaned up, and needs more appropriate attire for the ball.”

“Of course, Mr. Jeon.”

Before you can even get a word in, you are being herded down the corridor by Whyn, who appears overly eager to do Jungkook’s bidding. You’re pushed into the bathroom, and the last you see of Jungkook is his smile as Whyn closes the door on him.

The bathroom is lavish, tiled with white marble. Ornate sculptures depicting gryphons stand at each corner of the room. Steps lead down to a pool of warm water, from which steam rises, smelling of lavendar. A statue of a stag stands proudly at the centre of the water, with a beautiful woman depicted standing beside him, naked. She holds an urn above the pool, and water pours from the urn into the large bath.

Without any warning, or any chance to protest, Whyn strips you down, and pushes you to the water’s edge. “Quickly, m’am,” she urges, “The ball will be starting soon.”

Grumbling, you step down into the water. However, it’s impossible to continue complaining as the warmth envelops you, easing all the aches in your body. You sink down with a sigh, dipping your head under, and letting your hair become fully soaked.

However relaxing the bathing experience is, you know you need to get back to Jungkook quickly, so after a quick once over with soap, you reluctantly leave the embrace of the sweet smelling water.

Whyn is ready and waiting with a warm towel. She starts drying you off, and you complain that you can dry yourself, but she shushes you stubbornly. “Please, ma’m, let me do my job!”

Once your hair and body are towelled dry, Whyn helps you into the ornate dress she has picked for you. You’ve never worn a dress this fancy before, and until this point, you never understood why ladies needed maids to help them get dressed. Now, as Whyn scurries around you, lacing up your corset, and adjusting your petticoat, you understand. The dress has so many buttons, clasps, and ribbons, that it would take an eternity to dress yourself.

The maid finally helps you pull back your hair, pinning it off your face, so it curls elegantly to frame your cheeks. She steps back to admire her handiwork, allowing you to take in your full reflection in the mirror beside the bath. It’s surprising what a maid’s touch can do. You barely recognise yourself. A regal lady stares back at you from the mirror in a shimmering sapphire-coloured dress, with golden stitching around the bodice, detailing embroidered roses.

“Is it alright, m’am?” Whyn asks, “If you don’t like it, I can find another dress.”

“No, thank you, Whyn,” you smile at her, “It’s perfect.”

The girl flushes and bows her head.

You find your original clothes folded neatly in the corner of the room. You rummage in your satchel, and find your vial of Aphrodite’s Cure, tucking it under your corset for safe-keeping. You turn back to Whyn. “I’m ready.”

The maid leads you out of the bathroom down a snaking maze of corridors, until you reach a set of grand mahogany doors. She pushes the doors open for you, and indicates that you should go in.

You whisper your thanks to her again, and then walk into the ballroom. Inside, the dancing has not yet started, and the room is filled with groups of people, conversing with one another. You spot Jungkook at the far corner, by a set of wide windows that look out onto the garden, which is illuminated by lanterns. You walk over, and a smile erupts on Jungkook’s face as soon as he spots you. He steps forward to greet you.

“Whyn has done a fine job,” he says, casting an admiring glance over you.

You feel you face heat up, unsure how to respond.

“If anyone asks,” Jungkook continues, in a low voice, linking his arm through yours and leading you along the ballroom floor, “You are my personal friend. You needn’t give any more information than that.”

You nod, glancing around nervously, “Has Antille arrived?”

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Jungkook says. “I truly hope your fears are unjustified. But if they’re true, I want you by my side, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on wandering off alone.” Looking around the room, you notice many of the people staring at you. “Why are they looking at us?”

“Well, you are walking arm in arm with the heir of Braewyth, who’s rumoured to be in the market for a wife. People are going to be gossiping about our betrothal as we speak.”

You blush at the thought, allowing Jungkook to lead you around the room, stopping every so often to speak with groups of important sounding people.

Every so often, the door will open and someone will announce the name of the eligible young lady who has entered. The lady will smile and curtsey, and then everyone will go on about their business.

You find yourself stuck in an arduous conversion with an old noble, named Lord Chaperlet, about the effects of increased wheat tax, when the doors to the ballroom open once more, and the announcer cries, “Presenting to you, the Lady of Armestice, the honourable Antille.”

You raise onto your tiptoes to catch a glance at the lady over the heads of the crowd that has gathered.

She’s wearing a gold dress that trails across the floor like spilled champagne , her hair curled perfectly around her face. Lord Chaperlet stops wittering on about wheat tax to stare at the young Lady. “Antille truly is a beauty, is she not?” He winks at Jungkook, who gives a diplomatic chuckle, and says, “Now, now, Lord Chaperlet, what would your wife say if she overheard you?”

The older man gives a hearty laugh. Jungkook’s arm remains interlocked with yours, and shows no sign of budging. You swallow your nerves as Lady Antille approaches.

The lady pauses momentarily upon seeing you by Jungkook’s side, and a flash of ice glazes her gaze before she corrects her expression to a polite smile, and makes her way forward.

“Jeon Jungkook,” she coos, “How are you? It’s a pleasure to meet you. You look as handsome as your portraits portray you.”

Jungkook gives a courteous smile, “I’m wonderful thank you.” He takes the hand she proffers him, kissing her fingers, as is the custom when greeting noble women. “And how are you?”

“Fantastic,” Antille smiles, “Although the coach journey here was frightful! The rain was atrocious. Hence my late arrival, you see.”

“Fashionably late, I would say,” Jungkook replies, and Antille giggles behind her white-gloved hand.

You are out of your depth, silently observing this display of courtly manners.

Antille finally glances your way, in the manner one might glance across at an old dog scratching its fleas in the corner. “And who is this?”

You swallow. You may look different in your gown, but you know she has recognised you from your potions store.

Jungkook answers in your silence. “This is my personal friend.” His arm is still slung through yours. His reassuring fingers squeeze you.

“Is that so?” Antille worries her crimson bottom lip with her teeth for a second, her gaze lingering on you, sizing you up.

It’s a relief when Whyn passes with a tray of glasses filled with champagne, moving between you and Antille. “Would you like a drink?” The maid keeps her head bowed.

Antille takes a glass, and hands it to Jungkook, before taking one for herself, “Might as well enjoy oneself.” She raises her glass to Jungkook.

Jungkook brings the glass to his lips. A flash of worry sparks in your head – the only reason you are here is to stop Jungkook from ingesting any potion. Yet, Antille seems happy to drink the champagne...

Instinctively, your fingers tighten around Jungkook’s arm.

A vague scent of rose water and crushed gold floats towards you.

Jungkook glances at you, confused, before understanding floods into his eyes.

Wracking your brain for a good excuse to leave, your hand springs to your neck, feigning surprise. “Oh, I’ve just noticed! My necklace is gone. I was wearing it when I arrived here, but now it’s gone.”

Jungkook picks up on your cue. “Perhaps it fell off in the hallway by the entrance when you took off your cloak. I’ll help you search.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Antille chimes in. “Your friend can manage by herself. After all, everyone in this ballroom is here to speak with you personally, Jungkook. People might talk if you were to leave.”

Seeing Jungkook struggling, you begin sniffing, forcing your eyes to water. “The necklace belonged to my late mother. I can’t believe I was so careless...”

Jungkook hands you a handkerchief so you can dab at your fake tears, and before Antille can say anything else, he escorts you out of the room.

Once the doors of the the ballroom close behind you, you give up your act, following Jungkook down the twisting hallways.

“This is bad,” he mutters, “I should have been more careful. And after your warned me as well!” His hand is firm on your wrist, leading you up a set of stairs, before he slips into a room and quickly bolts the door shut behind him.

You find yourself in a lavish bathroom, this one different from the one you bathed in. Cherub angels are carved into the white frosting-coloured ceiling.

“You need to stay calm,” you tell Jungkook. “It’s going to be okay.”

Jungkook grimaces, “Don’t you understand? That glass came from Whyn’s tray. Antille must have specifically asked her to spike the glass that she would then give me.”

“Maybe Whyn didn’t know what it was,” you suggest.

“Even if she didn’t, a maid shouldn’t put anything into a drink they serve. She’ll loose her job. It’s a shame, I liked her.”

“That’s not the main issue right now,” you remind him, rummaging in the folds of your dress for the vial of Aphrodite’s Cure, “You need to take this.” You hold up the glass to him.

Jungkook smiles, “I’m glad you’re so reliable.”

“I do my best.”

Jungkook makes to take the vial from you, but you pull back, “Wait. You need to take the antidote after the potion actually kicks in.”

“How will  I know when that is?” Jungkook asks.

“Even if you don’t notice, I will,” you say, “You’ll start talking gibberish about how in love you are. And you’ll feel a sudden rush of emotion for the first person you looked at after you drank the potion… which was me, I think.”

“Right, of course. A rush of emotions.” He presses his lips together. “Perhaps, for the sake of clarity, I should confess something in that case...”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“The trouble is,” Jungkook continues “I believe I have already developed feelings for you.”

When you open your mouth, he holds up a hand to stop you. “Before you say anything – no, the potion hasn’t kicked in yet. I’ve felt this way for a while. I just didn’t know how to deal with these feelings, so I’ve repressed them.”

Your heart rises in a flurry of childish giddiness. You don’t know where the feelings come from, but are surprised to find that you desperately hope he is telling the truth. “Perhaps we should wait until you take the antidote, and then we’ll talk about this...”

His eyes glaze over, strange and distant, “My dear, these feelings will remain unwavering, I promise.”

You press the potion into his hands. “Drink,” you command.

He nods, uncorking the vial, and tipping the contents into his mouth. “Goddess, that tastes vile,” he groans. He sucks a breath through his teeth. With his head lowered, he takes a few seconds to recover, before he murmurs, “Thank you.”

You remain silent, not sure what to say. Your mind is still racing over Jungkook’s earlier confession. He said it wasn’t the potion causing the words to fall from his mouth. Yet, you cannot be sure. A part of you is unexpectedly sad at the though that his profession of love was simply the potion speaking.

Somehow, despite your determination to hate him, you are surprised to find that you love him.

Jungkook raises his head, eyes fixed on yours, “Without you I would have made a complete fool of myself. Not to mention, I probably would have ended up betrothed to Antille, which...” he blows out a sigh. “Let’s not dwell on that. Thank you for all your help. I know I’ve treated you poorly in the past, but you’ve still helped me regardless. That’s the sign of a good person.”

You bite down on your cheek, “Jungkook?”

“Yes?”

“What you said...” Once you start, the words keep spilling, “Before the potion kicked in. About being in love with me. Did you mean that?”

“Sorry, it was improper of me to simply dump that upon you all of a sudden,” Jungkook says, “I suppose I should have kept that to myself. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings, since my father would not approve of someone who is not noble-born. I tried to push the feelings away by treating you brusquely, by distracting myself with other women, but none of it worked.”

“So you mean?”

His gaze is inescapable, “I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Jungkook chuckles, but his tone is earnest, “Sorry, you look like a startled deer. I know it’s improper to confess without suitable courtship first, but our relationship has always been a little unconventional. Spending my time with you, I was fascinated by you. And that fascination turned into something I’ve never felt before. I’ve never been so open or honest with anyone else. You’ve seen the worst parts of me, and you’ve stuck around despite all that.” His cheeks colour, “I truly am just rambling now, please feel free to tell me to shut up.”

You’re still waiting for the part where Jungkook suddenly says, “It’s merely a jape!” His face is serious.

“Jungkook, I… I don’t know what to say...”

“Then don’t say anything, you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to, I just… the words evade me...” you bite your lip, “Your confession certainly came as a surprise, although not an unwelcome one...”

Jungkook’s eyes shine. 

“I’m very happy,” you say, “I would be lying if I said I do not have similar feelings for you. I never thought it would be okay to fall in love with a noble, so I never allowed myself the liberty of even thinking...” You hesitate, “Is it really okay for me to love you?”

Jungkook nods, “Nothing would make me happier.”

“But your father?”

“It’s okay. We’ll make it work. The tradition of nobles courting nobles is ver old-fashioned anyway. I never liked it. Eventually, my father will accept whom I choose. And I choose you.”

He takes your hand, delicately bringing your fingers to his lips. The action is so simple, so gentle – a far cry from the kiss you had shared earlier – yet it feels so strangely intimate with his eyes drinking you in, while his warm mouth caresses your skin.

His lips work their way up to your wrist, then your forearm, then your shoulder, then your cheek, then grazing the side of your mouth. You let him kiss you properly, melting into his warmth, while the carved cherubs smile down at you from above.

Parting, Jungkook sighs, “I wish I could enjoy this without the after effects of Impetus Amor... My head’s killing me...”

You smile, “Don’t worry. There’ll be time for all of this later. I’m not planning on leaving your side.” You hold his hand tight in your own. “For now, let’s go to the kitchen, and see if we can find some herbal tea for you.”

✽ ✽ ✽

After a cup of strong tea, Jungkook has perked up, ready to return to the ballroom. He holds your hand in his own as you make your way down to the main hallway. You can hear string instruments harmonising to a waltz from the ballroom. The dancing seems to have started in your absence.

“I hope you’ll dance with me tonight,” Jungkook says.

“Won’t people talk if they see us together?” you ask.

“Let them,” Jungkook says. “I’ll announce our relationship when you feel ready, and not a second before.”

You smile, “In that case, I’d love to dance with you.”

As you enter the ballroom, Antille glances over at the two of you and blanches. Jungkook lets go of your hand, and walks over to her, asking if she is willing to speak with him.

Antille looks around, as if considering her escape routes, but agrees to go with Jungkook – with obvious reluctance. Jungkook draws her to the edge of the room, away from the dancing couples that glide around the ballroom floor. Where the two of them stand, you can hear their conversation well, although they are tucked away from the rest of the ball guests.

“Antille,” Jungkook says, “I know what you have attempted to do.”

Antille glowers, “Attempted to do? What are you talking about?”

Jungkook continues, “I have enough proof to have you publicly disgraced, but I am willing to let you leave with your dignity intact, so long as you never set foot in this house again.”

“Threaten me all you want,” Antille hisses, “But know that you have made an enemy of Armestice today.”

Jungkook’s face twists into a frown, “That’s not a game you want to play, Lady Antille, believe me. The duchy of Braewyth is not one to be messed with.”

Antille is pale. Her eyes fall to you, and anger flashes vividly in her irises. “I thought I made it clear that my purchase was to be kept a secret.”

Jungkook steps closer to you, “Don’t, Antille,” he warns, “Your quarrel isn’t with her.”

The lady, visibly flustered, turns on her heel towards the door. You watch as she leaves the room.

Jungkook turns his attention to you. “Please don’t worry about her. I know what Armestice is capable of, and it isn’t much. Her threats are simply to stir up fear, but she won’t act on them.”

You smile as he threads his fingers through yours, “Now, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

You are aware of the eyes boring into you from all sides as you step onto the dance floor with Jungkook, but in that instant, you don’t care. Jungkook is beside you, his eyes on your face, and a smile on his lips.

For now, that’s enough.

✽ ✽ ✽

It’s a cold morning, but the early spring sunshine is shining stubbornly despite the chill as you walk back to your shop. You have a basket of fresh herbs in your hand, picked from the mountain side.

As you turn the corner onto your street, a smile breaks across your face, recognising a familiar figure standing by your door.

You run over to Jungkook, setting down your basket of herbs, so you can freely fling both arms around him.

He grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Good morning.”

You unlock the shop door, and let him enter. It’s still an hour until your shop will open for business.

“How has your morning been so far?” you ask Jungkook, throwing off your cloak, and hanging it by the door.

“Good,” Jungkook says, “The new maid prepared a wonderful breakfast. Eggs and bacon and fresh bread.”

“Sounds much better than the oatmeal I had,” you say.

“Once our relationship is officially made public, you can move into the mansion with me,” Jungkook says, “Then you can have all the eggs and bacon and fresh bread you want.”

You begin sorting the freshly picked herbs into piles on the counter, while Jungkook runs an eye over the potions you have sitting out from brewing last night.

“That will be nice,” you say, “Although I will miss this old shop.”

“I’m sure we can set up a room in the mansion where you can have a workshop to continue brewing potions. People would pay well for potions brewed by the heir of Braewyth’s wife.”

You blush at the word ‘wife’, a thrill travelling through you. 

Jungkook eyes some of your older equipment, “We can even get you some new tools. Some of these seem a little… rusty.”

“They’ve served me well, I’ll have you know.”

“Just a suggestion.” He sticks his tongue out at you.

You grin at him, “So what did you want from me this morning? We could continue your alchemy lessons… or...”

Jungkook moves around the counter to be by your side. His hands find  your waist, pulling you closer. “Well I had a few plans of my own.”

Your fingers curl through his charcoal hair. “I’m listening.”

Jungkook ducks his head down, his breath ghosting against your ear as he whispers his plan with words that make you blush scarlet. Desire pools inside you as his lips trace a path down your neck to your collar bone, “Don’t think you’re getting out of your alchemy lesson later.”

“Yes, m’am,” he grins, taking your hand in his own.

You let him lead you from your shop up the creaky stairs to your living quarters. You are happy to forget all responsibilities for the next hour, completely lost in Jungkook. You never believed a love potion could lead to true love – yet here you are, completely enveloped in Jungkook, overwhelmed by feeling. You don’t believe in the goddess but you thank her now, thank her that she decided to ruin your life by thrusting Jungkook into it.

The man you hated more than anything in the world has now become the man you love more than anything, and you couldn’t be happier for it.

- THE END -

➝ author’s note: thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it. 

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts #bangtan #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagines #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts reactions #bts chats #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts x you #jungkook x you #bts enemies to lovers #bts fantasy au #bts fluff scenarios #bts jungguk #bts writing

[nobodyfamousposts]

Helluva Deal (Miraculous X Helluva Boss)

Well, since Miraculous crossovers with Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel are a thing now, I figured I’d write my own on how I think it would likely go. Since this IS the Helluva Boss universe, expect mentions of death and the afterlife, allusions to violence, innuendos, and general inappropriateness:

“Let me get this straight.”

Blitzo stared down the demon before him.

Said demon simply looked back, unimpressed. The little thing was small with blue skin, dorky-looking round glasses, and uneven horns. It wasn’t even a notable demon. Just a random weaker demon who somehow got the funds to pay for their services.

And normally, Blitzo was hardly one to turn down money—or a job that offered money. But this…

“You want to pay us to kidnap someone from Earth—not murder, which is in our company’s name, but kidnap. Which is decidedly more difficult and less fun.”

“Yep.”

Blitzo steepled his fingers together and held them up to his face. “And you want this person kidnapped—not so you can kill her yourself for whatever issue you may have, but because you want her to make you a jacket.”

“Yep.”

“A plain old jacket you could just get anywhere here in Hell.”

The demon gasped in offense. “It’s not just ANY jacket! It’s an MDC original piece and I want one!”

Blitzo took a breath, getting the feeling he was going to regret this. 

“Why?”

This…made the demon pause and eventually shrug. “Well, I did say I would have died for an MDC jacket. And I’m dead now, so…gimme.”

Well, who was he to argue with that logic?

Although…

“That is going to require quite a bit more effort…” He started, obviously leading…

The demon gave a flat look. “I’m not paying you double. I need the rest to pay her for the jacket.”

“Why would you want to pay for it?” Blitzo demanded. “This is Hell! You’re a demon! Just steal one!”

“It’s a commission! I have to pay for it!”

Blitzo would have spit out his drink if he’d had one.

“What are you even in Hell for, anyway? You won’t kill. You won’t steal. You just want to pay some human for a jacket you could get anywhere. What’s the point of that?” He asked, giving the other demon a strange look because really, what kind of demon WANTED to pay for things?

The demon stared flatly at Blitzo, his tail flicking against the chair in apparent increasing agitation.

"Are you saying that a commission shouldn't be paid for?” The demon asked curiously, sounding a little...too polite. “Because the last guy who tried to skip out on paying for a commission died. Eyes stabbed out and everything. Do you want to risk that kind of thing happening to you?"

…

Blitzo paled.

“Oh.”

The silence lingered to the point of long past uncomfortable as the demon continued to wait for an answer and Blitzo’s not so subtle attempt to desperately press his secret security button under his desk had no effect.

This would turn out to be because of Loona disconnecting the thing due to her hangover. Though in the moment, Blitzo would choose to blame Moxie.

After a good minute of no response from his team, Blitzo started to sweat when the determined artist demon seemed to grow bored and pulled out a pencil.

He jumped to his feet.

“We’ll take the case!”

And immediately fled the room.

_______

Once on Earth, the problem came up rather quickly that they had no idea who MDC was or how to access them. The client only knew the target was a fashion designer in Paris, which narrowed it down to one city at least but still was little help when the city in question was one of the fashion capitals of the world.

Blitzo, naturally, took the lead in trying to work out a means of information gathering.

And by “naturally”, what was really meant was “horribly failing”.

“I’m telling you, the plan is foolproof. We hold someone for ransom until MDC trades herself.” Blitzo said with apparent glee.

“Sir, that would be the exact opposite of subtle and get us the wrong kind of attention!”

Moxie, for his part, was trying to come up with what he would call “sensible plans”. Millie was simply scouting the area while the two argued. Ever faithful Loona stayed behind to try using her own connections…a magazine.

Needless to say, Blitzo was the one carrying the team. Or at least in his not-so-humble opinion.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with any plans, Moxie.”

The smaller demon gave his boss a disgruntled glare. “I already told you! We should just go back and ask the client for more information!”

“Hmm…” Blitzo paused, before pulling out his phone. “Hey, Loona. The client still in my office?”

“Yeup.”

Blitzo immediately closed the phone. “Yeah—nope.”

“Sir—”

“He gouged a guy’s eyes out, Moxie! I need my eyes! I’m too pretty to lose them! They frame my face!” Blitzo exclaimed, bringing his hands up to his head in a fit of dramatics. “Is that what you want, Moxie? Do you want me to lose my precious, precious eyes?”

Moxie stared at the man like he was insane. Granted, Moxie had long had doubts about his boss’s sanity, but still...

“Hey, fellas?” Millie called, interrupting the two as she waved them over to the side of the building they had set up a temporary base atop of. “Listen to this!”

Blitzo immediately headed over, with Moxie following along behind looking annoyed. As they got closer, they heard what Millie had called them over about. Blitzo leaned over and peeked into the room in question.

Below them was an open window of the building where apparently a number of teenagers were gathered within for some inexplicable reason. And in this specific room, a group of the teens were gathered around one particular girl with a large forehead and hair that appeared to be made of meat. It was this girl who had their attention.

“—really friends with MDC?” One short blonde asked, looking overly excited like Blitzo did when he got a paycheck.

“Of course!” The meat-girl replied, looking smug. “We go way back! I was even the one who encouraged him to start in fashion and inspired his Heroes line.”

Blitzo looked back up at his team. “I thought MDC was a girl?”

Moxie shrugged. “If no one knows their real identity who's to say if they're a boy or a girl?"

“What else are they saying?” Millie asked, which returned the focus to the room.

More talking from below, using words that none of the demons really understood or cared about.

“—which was why he even made the Fox outfit for me!”

“Wasn’t that design based on Rena Rouge rather than Volpina?” One other girl with blue hair asked from the doorway of the room. She appeared to be rather annoyed for some odd reason.

The meat-girl looked somber. “Well, that was before he had to change it. After all, as bold as he is, not many people would support an akuma line, even if he had kept my idea to donate the funds to charity for the victims.”

The group “oo”-ed over the girl and praised her for her thoughtfulness. The meat-girl preened at the attention. The bluenette rolled her eyes. Some other blond guy looked on in disappointment.

“How amazing!” The little blonde exclaimed, clasping her hands to her cheeks. “I’d love to be able to meet MDC!”

“So would we!”

All eyes fell to the window which Blitzo, Millie, and Moxie used to make their entrance.

Honestly, he thought it was one of his better displays of dramatics. It certainly warranted some applause. Or screams of fear. Maybe one fainting.

“Akuma!”

Honestly, he was rather disappointed by the underwhelming response.

“I know we're demons and all, but I thought this place was French, not Japanese!"

“Nevermind that.” Blitzo replied to his workers before stepping forward to face the students.

Or rather one student in particular.

“Greetings! I am Blitzo. The two behind me are Millie and Moxie.”

The class stared as one of the two glared at them while the other waved cheerfully—or would be considered cheerfully if her teeth weren’t so razor sharp.

“We represent IMP, a for-hire group out of Hell. We take contracts, complete tasks, and make wishes come true!”

The teens looked at the demons in wariness and confusion.

“That sounds nice…” The little blonde in pink said.

“Those wishes generally involve murder.”

“I take it back! That sounds horrible!”

Blitzo grinned. “We are the ‘Immediate Murder Professionals’, dealing with the unfinished business of those poor wretched souls who are seeking some small vindication in their current status in Hell.”

“Then…why are you here?” The bigger male demanded.

Blitzo ignored him in favor of his true target.

“You! Ugly girl!” He shouted, grabbing the meat-girl.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, insulted.

He shook her. “Take us to MDC and we’ll rip out those sausage-links you call hair!”

“…don’t you mean ‘or’?”

He grinned ferally.

“No.”

She shrieked in fear.

“Lila!” Others cried out in horror.

Ah, yes. There was the fear. This, Blitzo was good with. It made him feel better about the previous lackluster response to his entrance.

“Why do you want me?!” The girl—Lila shouted, looking panicked. “I don’t know where MDC is!”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “But you said you were friends.”

She glanced around, taking note of the fact that her cohorts were still in the room. Though he didn’t know why that should matter for her answer.

“We are! But…I don’t know where he lives now! He’s moved since his name got out there and hasn’t given me the address yet!”

A glasses-wearing girl frowned in confusion. “But didn’t you just say that he invited you to his house for fittings?”

“Yeah, you said it was for the latest line that just came out.” Another girl with multi-colored hair added.

“That was months ago. Before he moved.” Lila replied quickly. “So I can’t help you.”

“Sure, you can!” Blitzo replied jovially. “We can just use you as ransom until MDC agrees to hand himself over.”

Moxie approached the two, keeping his gun leveled at the other kids. “We can save some time and see if she can’t call him.”

“Hey, yeah!” Millie agreed, grabbing Lila’s bag off of her and searching for her phone. “If they’re friends, she’s gotta have his contact info!”

“It’s not in there!” Lila replied quickly. “I was worried someone would steal my phone to get his info so I don’t keep his number in my phone!”

Millie frowned, before holding the now open phone up to Lila. “Then just type in the number yourself.”

Lila glanced around the room in growing agitation. “I can’t! I don’t have it memorized!”

“Then where did you write it down?”

“I lost it!”

The demons were looking particularly vexed.

“When and where?”

“It was a while ago. I don’t know where.” Lila replied.

A girl with glasses looked at her in confusion. “But didn’t you say you just called him this morning to congratulate him on the new line? And that he promised you a free outfit as thanks for all your help?”

Lila paled. “I—”

“Then the number should still be in the phone under its call history.” Moxie noted. Millie grinned and looked back to the phone screen to look through the data.

“I deleted it right after!” Lila shouted desperately.

Millie looked up at her in irritation.

Then promptly crushed the phone in her grip.

Lila shrieked, though it would be up for debate as to whether it was in shock at the loss of her phone or in fear that she may soon share that same fate.

Blitzo seemed similarly put out, but ended up shrugging it off as he pulled Lila closer to him. “Then it’s back to Plan A to hold her for ransom. Or torture her to see if she can’t remember the details.”

“No, please!”

“Lila!”

“Let her go!”

Lila grabbed at the arm holding her, panicked but not enough beyond reasoning. She couldn’t afford to reveal she lied now. She could only hope that these monsters would take her somewhere private where she could manipulate them with less witnesses.

Marinette, for her part, was also analyzing the situation.

These were three unknowns. Definitely not akumas. If they were to be believed, they were actual demons. From Hell. Which existed, apparently. And was where Lila would likely find herself in the next hour if she kept this up.

But from Lila’s expression, it seemed she was insistent on staying tight-lipped about her lies. Marinette figured as much due to her history. But she would have thought that Lila would have had some measure of self-preservation. Though perhaps that only applied to the preservation of her lies and manipulations rather than her own well being.

It was clear that Lila wasn’t going to get herself out of this. Not in any way that would spare her and everyone else in the room, at any rate.

As it was, the classmates were about to rally in Lila’s defense. While they had stood their own against akumas in the past,Marinette didn’t want to see how well they would fare against demons. Nor did she want to have to test if the Miraculous Cure would be enough to fix whatever would be left of them if they tried.

Marinette looked to the doorway.

No one was paying any attention to her right now. She could escape. She could go out, find a place to transform, and come back to deal with these…demons.

But by the time she returned, who was to say what could happen. The demons could kill Lila. They could kill all of her friends for being witnesses.

Ladybug may not be able to fix this.

But Marinette…as Marinette, she could.

“I’m MDC.” Marinette admitted.

Everyone froze.

“Come again.”

“MDC.” Marinette enunciated. “It stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. My name. I’m MDC. I’m the one you want.”

Alya stared. “Girl?”

Moxie looked at her in consideration. “That would fit with the client’s report of MDC being female.”

Millie, frowned in suspicion. “How do we know she’s really MDC?”

Marinette took a breath and slowly pulled out her tablet. “Well, my signature is in the clothes, so if you’ll let me pull up one of the shots, I can point it out and—”

Blitzo cut her off, grabbing her arm. “Yeah, I think we’ll just take you both and let the client sort it out. Sound good? Good, because we’re leaving.”

“Bye all!” Millie said, waving to the group. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

Moxie rolled his eyes. “That’s a pretty short list…”

Blitzo ignored them an opened a portal, dragging both girls after him. Without a glance back, both Millie and Moxie followed him through the portal. Before anyone else could move, the gateway closed behind them.

A long pause followed.

“Not so fast!”

Suddenly, the door was kicked open as Chat Noir burst into the room.

The much less enemy-filled room.

“Um…did I miss the party?”

_______

The room they soon found themselves appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely normal. It looked like an office of the sort they’d find anywhere in Paris. Complete with a secretary’s desk, a few chairs, and a table littered with magazines.

The difference was made quickly apparent, however, through the view out the window. The landscape the deceptively quaint room was mostly a collage of red and black, with a sunless sky above and a myriad of strange buildings. Also of note where the various denizens of…distinctly non-human appearance wandering the streets outside.

“All right, ladies! Welcome to Hell!” Blitzo announced with a flourish, causing the girls to pale.

Lila fell back with a screech, landing on her butt and immediately attempting to scuttle back away. Her path was quickly halted as she bumped into something. Looking up, that “something” was actually a wolf monster, making Lila panic even further.

Loona, for her part, was not having a good morning—ignoring, of course, that it was actually the afternoon. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that her hangover still hadn’t cleared, now some…thing had shoved into her, followed shortly by an ear-piercing shriek that only made her head feel worse.

Seeing the way the wolf demon growled, Lila opened her mouth, possibly to scream even more when Marinette quickly shoved a hand over her mouth with a smile to Loona.

“Oh my! Your hairstyle is quite lovely!” She lied. Blatantly lied to the wolf girl’s face.

“It’s bed-head.”

“I couldn’t even tell. It looks so sleek and shiny!”

“Whatever.” Loona grumbled and stormed off to the break room, slamming the door behind her (and then immediately regretting it due to the noise agitating her headache).

Marinette decided to take the initiative. “So…what do you want with us, anyway?”

“Our client paid us a pretty penny—”

“Basic contract.” Moxie interrupted.

“Pretty. Penny.” Blitzo continued as if he hadn’t heard. “For a chance to meet with MDC.”

Okay, they had mentioned that before.

“Then what?”

“If you are MDC, you can do whatever the client is wanting. If you’re not, you’ll at least make for a decent distraction while we escape and blow up the building.”

The humans in the room blanched at that.

“WHAT?!”

“I know. She was a beautiful building.” Blitzo said mournfully as he actually wiped a tear from his eye. “And I just got my office arranged how I like it, too. But it

Marinette stared.

Lila whimpered.

“I second that ‘what’.” Moxie interrupted. “Nobody at any point discussed blowing up the building!”

“It was on page 3 of the handout I gave you this morning, Moxie.” Blitzo exclaimed, covering his eyes in exasperation. “At least read the mission briefings!”

“Sir, the ‘handout’ was a paper napkin. There was no third page!” Moxie insisted.

Beside him, Millie for her part was looking over the aforementioned napkin for the part that was supposed to mention the circumstances in question…or really any of the plan.

“We’ll discuss it later.” Blitzo said over his shoulder to Moxie as he proceeded to grab both human girls and drag them over to a previously closed door.

“Hey wait—!”

“Hang on!”

Within seconds, Blitzo opened the door and proceeded to shove both girls through before slamming it shut behind them, the last thing they heard being him mentioning where to buy explosives.

_______

So.

Recap.

Hell was real. Demons were a thing. And the two human girls were getting a first hand view of the less than pleasant or holy side of the afterlife.

Marinette was…actually taking it all in stride.

Lila was less so. She was sitting ramrod straight in the chair, keeping a tight grip on her knees and trying very hard not to move as her eyes glanced quickly around the room at the assembled demons.

Marinette actually felt bad for her. And probably should have been panicking herself, all things considered. Maybe she would have been had it not been for her extensive experience as Ladybug.

Sure, it was Hell, but floating gods and people turning into monsters had already broadened her horizons of the possibilities of the universe. Plus despite the name of the company that had kidnapped them both, murder didn’t appear to be on the table. All in all, despite the circumstances, Marinette didn’t feel that scared.

The fact that the “client” in question who hired the group was actually a fan of hers wanting a commission helped quite a bit with that.

As did the flattery.

“OMG! OMG! I can’t believe it! It’s you! Can I get your autograph?! No—wait! I need to focus! Can I get a jacket with your autograph?!”

“Thank you.” Marinette said, somewhat flustered. Honestly, she hadn’t thought she had gained THAT much fame. Especially not enough for someone to want to commission her from the afterlife.

…was that a thing? Could that be a thing?

“What I don’t get is why the other girl had to tag along?” The demon asked, curiously. “Is she your assistant or something?”

Lila brightened, looking ready to speak—likely to try to lie her way out of this. Or mess up what little peace Marinette had managed to create.

“No!” Marinette interrupted quickly, ignoring Lila’s petulant glare. “No, she’s not. There was just a mix up since they didn’t know where I was or who to bring.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Well, how were we supposed to know?!”

“You could have asked me when I contracted you.” Said the demon, somewhat annoyed.

“I have a website, you know.” Said Marinette, very annoyed.

They paused.

“…the fuck’s a website?”

Silence.

Marinette coughed. “In any case, you wanted to commission me?”

“Oh, yes!”

_______

It didn’t take long to make the arrangements. Marinette named her prices and the demon was more than willing to pay her for her services. They made use of Blitzo’s office to negotiate and fine tune some details regarding the arrangement. From determining the materials to writing up the contract to negotiating the costs, it was all pretty professional.

And ultimately involved the humans not being murdered and the building not being blown up, which was always preferable.

It finally came down to determining just how the demon customer wanted the jacket to look, and Marinette started drawing out some sample sketches on spare paper in the office that may or may not have been important documents for Blitzo which she may or may not have particularly cared given the whole “kidnapping and being used as a sacrifice” matter.

The only issue seemed to be that the demon customer wanted the jacket to be made of materials that were only available in Hell. Which made sense, she supposed, since she wasn’t sure how long anything she made on Earth would last in this environment. Millie and Moxie had been sent out to gather the necessary material in question, and what they returned with was a strange sort of leather. It was unique and of a color she had never seen before, and part of her really wanted to get a bit more detail about the make.

…given how pale Lila had already gotten, Marinette kindly decided to refrain from asking questions.

“Well then, let’s go over a few sketches and determine which one you like.”

The demon looked almost giddy at the prospect. The IMP team looked relieved. Except Blitzo, who still seemed to be pouting over their takeover of his office.

Lila was…less enthused. “WHAT?! What are you thinking?! He’s a demon!”

Marinette shrugged. “Well, I do have a non-discrimination clause.”

“That shouldn’t apply to demons!” Lila hissed lowly.

“The demons who have brought us to Hell and are currently our only way of getting back.” Marinette pointed out, dryly.

Lila huffed and went back to her chair.

So, with Blitzo and his team begrudgingly kindly being forced willing to donate their office for her use, Marinette sent to work to try and design a jacket to the client’s taste as quickly as possible.

The sooner she got done, the sooner they could go back to Earth.

…hopefully.

Lila, for her part, was terrified and miserable and just wanting to go back to Earth. Immediately would be preferable. Even without Marinette.

Yeah, thanks Lila.

“Why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I go back home? Or do anything else?”

The client tilted his head. “Are you saying you don’t like art? Because the last person who told me they didn’t like art had their eyes stabbed out. With pencils. Would you want that to happen to you?”

“…can’t I like art and not stay in Hell?”

“No.”

Lila paled and sunk lower in her seat, where she remained quiet for the next couple of hours while Marinette worked.

It was mostly in silence as Marinette drew one sketch after another. Asking occasional questions about preferred length, how many pockets, special embellishments, and which parts of the various jacket styles did he prefer. Eventually, they had come to an agreement about the set look he wanted, the materials needed, and when he wanted it completed by. And from there came the matter of payment…

“Um…I’m not sure what the exchange rate is for Hell currency.” Marinette said, looking at the coins he handed her.

The demon frowned, tilting his head in consideration. “I could always rob a human bank and pay you with that.”

Marinette paled.

“This is fine. Really. I can probably buy some things from Hell with this.” She said with a forced smile.

“There are tons of things you can only find here.” Millie said, brightening. “We could deliver them for you!”

Well, that was a good point.

“That’s true.” Moxie agreed. “You could make other things with the fabrics here. Hats. Shirts.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at Millie who was busy chatting with the customer regarding the fabric he chose. Seeing she was suitably distracted, he turned to Marinette. “So…how much would it be to make a dress. Just out of curiosity.”

Aww. Even in Hell there was love.

She smiled. “We can certainly discuss it.”

The moment was ruined as Blitzo stepped in and slung an arm around Marinette’s shoulder.

“How about one of those sexy maid outfits for the bedroom? You’re French, right?” He asked before giving Moxie a nudge. “You could stand to have a little more fun in the bedroom.”

“Sir, I’m 14.” Marinette replied dryly.

“And what we do in the bedroom is none of your business!” Moxie rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t we just have a discussion about this last week?”

Marinette coughed as the two started to argue. “So…um…are we going to return to Earth so I can start working on this?”

Blitzo sighed. “Fine, fine. Killjoys.”

Lila heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.”

_______

With an agreement forged between Marinette and IMP to have the customer’s order completed and delivered within two week’s time, Marinette and Lila were safely deposited back in their classroom no worse for wear.

…well, physically. Mentally, there were probably going to be a few scars.

Several of their classmates had apparently remained since the earlier incident. Perhaps it was out of worry? Or maybe classes had resumed after their disappearance—akuma attacks and strange circumstances had become rather common, after all.

Still, it was Alya’s cry of surprise and then being pulled into a hug that assured Marinette she was, in fact, back home.

“You’re back!” Alya exclaimed, relieved. “We were so worried!”

It wasn’t every day your best friend and classmate was dragged to Hell, after all.

“—and I’d been trying to reach out to Ladybug and Chat Noir, but only Chat showed up and Ladybug must be busy or maybe she already knew? Did she help you? How did you escape?”

Part of her wondered if Alya had even stopped to breathe. The rest of her was just basking in the happiness that they had made it back safe and nothing too terrible had happened in the meantime.

The absolute LAST thing she needed was to come back and find out Hawk Moth had let loose another akuma that destroyed Paris while she was gone.

Alya suddenly gasped as though struck by a thought.

“Oh my god, Marinette! I can’t believe you did that!”

Marinette smiled. “Well, I had to—”

“You claimed to be MDC just to protect Lila! And here I thought you hated her!”

Happy feeling gone. Gone like a punch to the face. Knocked out. Dead, even.

Alya beamed. “I’m so proud of you, girl! I knew deep down that—”

“Nope!” Came a quick interruption. “That’s not what happened. It was just a lie. Completely and utterly.”

The interruption was half expected.

The fact that it came from Lila was not.

Everyone froze.

“What?”

“I never met MDC.” Lila explained, wasting absolutely no time with subtleties and just blurting it out. “I never knew Marinette was MDC. I just lied about knowing him because I thought he was the next big thing and I knew you would all believe me.”

“…what?”

Lila sighed. “I lied about knowing MDC. And being the muse behind his fashion line—well, hers. Since Marinette is MDC. She never lied. I did.”

The classmates were startled, but seemed to be taking in the information.

Rose, for her part, tried to be positive. “Oh...well, you didn’t have to lie about knowing MDC—”

“No, I mean about everything. Ever. In fact, there’s probably not a single time we’ve known each other that I was ever honest with any of you.”

Everyone stared.

“I’ve been lying since the moment we’ve met.” Lila continued. “I am a liar. Always have been. I am a horrible lying liar who lied about everyone I ever claimed to know and everything I ever said I did just to get you all to admire me because it was easier to manipulate you that way and get you to do things I wanted. From interviewing me for the Ladyblog to carrying my lunch tray to buying me things. I lied about having tinnitus just to get to sit next to Adrien and lied about not being interested in him to manipulate Nino into guilting him into letting me come to his house. Ladybug herself even called me out for lying. And when Marinette got upset that day I came back over the seat change? I threatened her in the bathroom because she was wise to me from the very start.”

A few stares were sent Marinette’s way. She didn’t have any explanation for them though. She was just as surprised as they were. More, even.

Lila shrugged. “Everything I’ve said. Everything I’ve done. All lies. Ever.”

Everyone gaped in shock. Nobody even really knew what to say.

Marinette started. “But why—”

“Because that was Hell, Marinette. HELL. The bad place you go to after you die, reserved for bad people. And until today, I didn’t even think it was real. Or that there could be a chance I could end up there. But I imagine if anything would warrant that, it’d be lying, manipulating, and trying to get revenge on a superhero.”

Nino blinked. “Wait…what was that last one—”

As if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders, Lila sighed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join a convent to try and save my soul now that I know I have one.”

With that, she promptly exited the room, leaving the group staring after her in complete bewilderment.

Alya gaped. “...what?”

_________

Epilogue: 

Marinette completed her commission to the demon and later for Moxie. Her fame increased in both realms and she eventually did open up her own design house. The only issue came in the customers who wanted to pay her by removing her competition, which she was mostly able to prevent until IMP took a hit on Gabriel Agreste. While Marinette did stop the attempted murder, this did still reveal his secondary identity of Hawk Moth, allowing the Butterfly and Peacock to be recovered and peace to return to Paris.

The classmates were shocked at the reveal of Lila’s true nature, but were more bewildered than anything given how it happened. They did all feel foolish and embarrassed for trusting Lila, but considering what could have happened, they all chose to take it as a life lesson to be more cautious in the future. They all remained friends and moved on to live quite fulfilling lives.

IMP formed a contract with MDC and gained a secondary job of delivery service as well as assassins, which increased their profits.

And Millie loved her new dress.

Lila Rossi convinced her mother to send her to a convent, where she became one of the most pious and devout members, spreading the message of being good in life more than any other.

#ml fic #ml crossover #marinette dupain cheng #Lila sucks #lila redemption #helluva boss

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 7 - Enemies with Disregard [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, smoking, drinking.

Summary: Ice meets fire.

Being heartbroken over a genius whom you weren’t even dating to begin with was not something you saw coming, but here you were.

Lying in bed, eating chocolate and trying your hardest to focus on the show playing on the huge TV.

“That’s a beautiful wedding dress, fuck what your aunt says!” you shouted at the screen, chewing on the caramel chocolate but then looked up when you heard the front door open.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You groaned and turned your head to see your sister walk into your living room before she leaned on her hip.

“Oh great, you’re still where I left you.”

“I gave one person a key,” you pointed at her, “One. I don’t know if it was mom or you or your wife, but when I remember who it was, that person will be in trouble.”

“It was mom and we had copies made for times like these.”

You made a face and slid a little on the couch, “You should just leave me with my misery.”

“Are you seriously still sulking over that Reid guy?”

“I’m not sulking.”

She heaved a sigh and plopped down next to you, “The guy you liked suspected that you were a killer. So what? It could happen to anyone.”

You shot her a look, “Mina I’m pretty sure it doesn’t just happen to anyone,” you said, “In fact, I’m one hundred percent sure I’m the only person in the entire world who has had this problem.”

“It’s the 21st century,” she reminded you, “There’s some surreal shit happening every day, I’m willing to bet it happened to someone before.”

You popped a piece of chocolate into your mouth “Yeah well. It doesn’t matter.”

“Did he call you?”

“Yeah.” You tossed her the phone and she checked the screen.

“You’re not going to call back?”

You scoffed, “I’m busy.”

“Watching reality TV doesn’t count as being busy,” she said and you shrugged your shoulders.

“The charity ball is tonight, I’ll be busy towards the evening.”

“Oh right, I forgot about that.” Mina mused, “I mean…. At least you can get your mind off him tonight then. There’ll be so many insufferable people in there, you’ll fit right in.”

You were way too bummed out to retort to that.

“Um- about that,” you murmured, “There’s a huge chance that he will show up there.”

Mina blinked a couple of times, “I beg your pardon?”

“Apparently it would be a good place to see if the killer showed up, since they’re obsessed with dad’s life, so Spencer and his team might show up.”

She reached for the chocolate box in your lap and grabbed a piece,

“You must’ve fucked up in your previous life or something to piss off the universe like this,” she commented, “That being said, you’re overreacting.”

“I’m overreacting?” you exclaimed, sitting up straighter, “He implied—”

“There’s a copycat killer out there who looks up to dad, copying his life, dad was raising you to follow his footsteps and he wanted to talk to you after that first kill. You would’ve thought the same, and that’s not even your job.”

“I just wish…” you trailed off, “I just wish someone would actually have a good opinion of me, you know? I know it’s stupid to want that, but I guess I hoped Spencer would think that about me.”

“Hey,” she kicked at your feet, “I have that good opinion of you. Not just me, my wife adores you and my kid thinks you hung the moon. Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?”

That somehow made you smile and you nodded slowly, turning your gaze to her.

“Damn right,” you said, “Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?”

                                           ***

It took you almost three hours to get ready, but after three hours, you were finally happy with the way you looked. You walked through the entrance of the ballroom, fixing your bracelet, the chatter of people talking to each other, the lovely smell and soothing music greeting you.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as terrible as you thought it would be.

After all, it was for a good cause, so you could definitely bear it for a couple of hours

“Oh here you are!” your mother approached you, a smile warming her face, “You look gorgeous in red! I have to be honest with you, for a moment I thought you wouldn’t show up.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” you grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray one of the waiters was holding, “Thanks.”

“Mina mentioned you were having some romantic problems?”

“What?” you let out a snort as she linked her arm through yours, walking beside you, “I don’t have any problems and there’s no…romance.”

“Yet, but the night is still young.”

“Mom,” you whined, “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to set me up with someone in here.”

“I’m not!” she said, “I just think you could meet some people, that’s all. And if you happen to meet anyone and fall in love, decide to get married and have cute little babies—”

“Mom.”

“Tonight would be a lucky beginning!” she waved her hand, “That’s all.”

“That’s all? Oh good thing it’s not much.” You deadpanned, “Anyone ever told you that you have high expectations?”

“Multiple people on multiple occasions, they turned out to be wrong in the end,” she pointed out but before she could say anything else, a middle aged woman with a very high updo stopped you.

“Y/N honey!” she blew a kiss in the air so as not to ruin your or her makeup, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you in a place like this.”

“Hi Sarah,” you smiled at her, “I’ve just been so busy. And I know I can’t look as good as this lady over here,” you pointed at your mom with your thumb, making her chuckle, “So I figured I shouldn’t even try.”

“How sweet!” Sarah clasped her hands together, “Now that I got you here, Tracy wanted to hire you for her wedding and I promised her I would ask.”

“Ah unfortunately my client list is full,” you hissed in a breath, “So sorry about that, but I can recommend an amazing colleague of mine, I’ll tell my assistant to mail her.”

“That’s great!” she said, “This whole wedding business is insane, she’s under so much pressure— oh there she is, excuse me.”

“Congratulations for the wedding,” you called out as she walked away and your mother raised her brows.

“Your client list is full?”

“Not really,” you said, “But Tracy said my hair looked terrible and pushed me into the pool when we were ten, I’m not helping that bitch with her wedding.”

“She really is insufferable,” your mother whispered, “Like mother like daughter, and I just think—” she stopped talking when her eyes stopped on someone in the crowd and you turned your head to see what she was looking at.

More like who she was looking at.

The older man had to be around your mother’s age, maybe only a couple of years older, but he could definitely pull off the suit and the grays in his carefully styled hair. He looked like he was having fun, telling something to the people around him who looked like they were hanging onto every word he said, but when he caught your mother’s glances out of the corner of his eye, he smiled at her, raising his glass a little.

You could’ve sworn you heard a small giggle coming from your mother and you tried to look not as amused as you felt.

“Well, go on then,” you said, nudging her and she looked at you, suddenly embarrassed.

“Oh sweetheart, no way.”

“Why not? I don’t see a wedding ring.”

“He was widowed ten years ago,” she said and you pulled your brows together.

“And you know that how?”

“Well you inherited those party planning talents from me darling, I know everything about everyone here.”

You clicked your tongue, “Well, okay then. My condolences, go get him tiger.”

“Y/N!”

“What?” you let out a laugh, “Mom, I work with couples, okay? It’s like Hunger Games out there. Besides, what was it you told me? If you happen to fall in love, get married and have cute little babies—“

“Babies?!”

“Dogs, mom. I mean dogs.” You heaved a sigh, “So I’m going to walk away to give the silver fox over there enough space to make his move.”

“He really does look good, doesn’t he?” your mother mused but then shook her head, “What am I saying?”

You tried to stop yourself from laughing, then stepped back, “Go. It’s about time Mina stopped being the only member of this family who’s lucky in love.”

“But sweetheart, you are lucky.”

A bitter smile pulled at your lips and you scrunched up your nose.

“Nah,” you said, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“I’m not letting you go away before you tell me what happened with that agent. Spencer Reid, right?”

You lowered your glances to the champagne glass in your hand. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing really,” you shrugged your shoulders, “It’s just…life. He works in the FBI, even if he did have feelings for me and that’s a big if, there would always be that doubt, you know? About how much influence dad has over me. He’s always going to have that suspicion at the back of his mind.”

“Is he going to have that suspicion or are you?” she asked, making your eyes snap up to hers and she heaved a sigh.

“I’m your mother, and you’re not as secretive as you’d like to think sweetheart,” she said, “There’s not a bone in your body that’s capable of doing what your father has done to all those poor people, Y/N. Trust me.”

You swallowed thickly and cleared your throat.

“We can talk about it after you flirt with that silver fox who’s looking at you as we speak,” you said as you downed your champagne, “You know what they said about the killer potentially being here so stay here in the crowd.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with him, people would talk!”

“Oh yeah, scandal,” you wiggled your brows, “Be careful, you crazy kids.”  

With that, you walked away from her, desperate for a cigarette. You had been here before, and there had to be a balcony somewhere-

Bingo.

Maybe Spencer wouldn’t even show up. That wouldn’t be so surprising after all, FBI had a bunch of other agents, so maybe there were already some undercover agents in here and you didn’t know it yet.

Even if he did show up, you were sure you wouldn’t talk to each other since he would be busy trying to find the copycat and you had been avoiding his calls and texts. The small voice at the back of your mind scolded you, and you wondered for a moment whether Mina was right, whether you were overreacting but before you could reach the balcony, you were stopped by someone and you snapped out of your thoughts.

“Hi,” the guy said, “Y/N?”

You blinked up at him, trying to focus. He looked strangely familiar with dark hair and light blue eyes, and his smile reminded you of something you couldn’t put your finger on. His suit was expensive and just by his posture you could tell you were from the same circle.

All of you were taught the same thing after all. Chin up, back straight.

“Oh God, let me guess,” you said with a sigh, “My mom sent you.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion, “Uh, no she didn’t?”

“Listen buddy, no offense because you look really good but I’m going through some really weird shit right now so these are not the droids you’re looking for—”

“I’m Lincoln,” he cut you off, “We used to be neighbors when we were kids?” he tilted his head, “I uh… we used to play house in your treehouse?”

Your eyes widened as soon as it dawned on you.

“Linc?” your jaw dropped, “Oh my God hi!”

“Yeah, hi,” he grinned at you, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“The last I heard you were in….?”

“Italy,” he said, “I was dealing with my father’s business there but I came back a couple of months ago. How about you? I could swear my mom said you have an event planning business now?”

“Yeah my company deals with events but I specialize in wedding planning,” you said, “Wow. It’s been years huh?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, “It’s great to see you. I- I don’t know if it’s appropriate to say but I’m sorry about your dad.”

You forced yourself to smile and grabbed another glass of champagne. “Oh. Thanks.”

“You know, I wanted to reach out but we were both kids, and then afterwards it just felt strange,” he said as you dragged your gaze from him to the room, but as soon as your eyes landed on the figure by the entrance, the rest of Lincoln’s sentence became drowned out in the buzzing in your ears.

God damn it, you were right about the black suit looking good on him.

Spencer looked oblivious to the rest of the crowd just like you were, his gaze focused on you. You saw him swallow thickly, as if the mere sight of you was enough to make him freeze while his teammates spread out in the huge ballroom and you let out a breath, trying your hardest to ignore how fast your heart was beating.

“You okay?” Lincoln’s voice carried through the fog in your mind and your head snapped up.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, “I am. Uh…Linc, it was really nice to see you but I need some fresh air. Let’s catch up sometime, okay?”

Without even waiting for his answer, you made your way to the balcony, pulled open the huge glass door and stepped outside, letting the cool air hit your face. You inhaled deeply, then grabbed your cigarettes from your purse, put one between your lips and lit it. The first drag managed to calm you down just a little as you closed your eyes, exhaling the smoke.

It made no sense that you were this affected by some dude’s presence.

You heard the door open behind you but you didn’t even need to turn your head to see who it was. Your body responded way before you did, your shoulders rolled back and you straightened your back, fixing your eyes in the darkness.

“Did you know that in the United States alone, cigarette smoking causes 80 to 90% of lung cancer deaths?”

You raised your brows, still refusing to turn your head.

“Yeah? Do you have any percentages for killers who smoke as well?” you asked, putting your glass of champagne on the marble railing pillars and you heard footsteps behind you coming closer. You stole a look at him as he leaned back to the pillars, taking out his earpiece.

“Can we talk?”

“It’s a free country Dr. Reid, no one’s stopping you.”

He pulled his brows together, “You never call me that.”

“Well I should,” you said, “I think we can both agree that it’s better to keep it professional.”

“Is that what you want?”

A bitter laugh escaped from your lips, “Fuck what I want,” you murmured to yourself, taking a drag of the cigarette and he cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean it to sound like that,” he said, “It’s not that I suspect you. It’s just that the profile would fit—” he paused, “It was before we met. It’s not what I think of you now.”

You tried to swallow the lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

“What do I care what you think of me?”

This right there, this was the exact reason why every relationship of yours ended. Mina had called it the shock effect, it was either too warm or too cold with you, in terms of affection. Much like the rest of you, your anger either burned everything on its path or froze everything.

You knew it was wrong, and yet, you couldn’t stop yourself once that ice made its way through your veins.

But unlike everyone else who had witnessed it before, Spencer was a profiler and he could see right through that.

“You don’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I can’t worry about what people think of me, really. I wouldn’t be able to pull through what happened if I had.”

“But if what I said hurt you—”

“Hurt me?” you repeated, interrupting him and locked your eyes with him, “You don’t know me, Reid. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

He stayed silent, his hazel eyes looking into your soul but you dragged your gaze away from him and exhaled the smoke into the chilly night.

“You think, what— you think just because we’ve had couple of drinks together along with some flirting you discovered some hidden part of me? Honestly, what you know about me is about the same amount of information that any one night stand with enough skills to use Google would know about me.” You took a sip of the champagne and scoffed a laugh, “But hey, before I forget. Sorry if what I said hurt you.”

“Are you done?”

That was enough to make you turn your head, the question taking you by surprise,

“What?”

“Are you done?” he repeated, for some reason the look in his eyes made you feel like you were falling off a cliff, “If someone’s going to get hurt it’s not going to be you, and you can attack back just fine, are you done proving that? Or should I wait a little longer?”

You clenched your teeth, “You think this is me attacking back?”

“I think this is the only way you know how to protect yourself when you’re hurt.”

A painful smile pulled at your lips and you took a drag of the cigarette,

“You know, after my father was caught and imprisoned,” you said slowly, “After that summer, I had to go back to school. My mom was pretty worried but she let me go anyway but this whole social circle is so small, so every kid’s parent in my school knew about what happened, and they apparently talked about it around my classmates back then. Because on my first day, some of my friends ambushed me in the girls bathroom and in all that chaos, one of them tripped me so I fell and slammed my head to the sink. I had to get stitches, I thought mom would lose it.” You shrugged your shoulders, “I’ve learned that people would blame me for whatever shit dad decided to do when I was a kid, Spencer. You’d have to try a little harder if you wanted to hurt me, because right now you’re just being a cliché.”

You took a step to walk past him but he stopped you, his grip around your arm firm but soft at the same time, as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t cause any discomfort even though the light in his eyes was intense enough to wake goosebumps on your arms.

He knew how to keep it under control just like you.

“It’s not—“ he started but both of you snapped out of it when the balcony door opened.

“Reid, where the hell is your earpiece?” Luke asked through his teeth as Spencer pulled his hand back and you tried to ignore the warm tingles spreading under your skin, “We found a body upstairs.”

Your stomach dropped, “What?”

“Same signature, come on,” Luke said and you and Spencer followed him out of the balcony. The crowd was buzzing already and your mother made her way to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah I was just smoking outside.” You answered quickly and looked up at Spencer when you heard him saying your name.

“Stay here in the crowd,” he said as he put his earpiece back and you nodded.

“Hey,” you stopped him before he could take a step, “Be- be careful, okay?”

A small smile ghosted over his lips before he made his way out of the crowd with Luke and you massaged your temples before pulling yourself a chair. Your mother pressed a hand over her chest and sat down next to you, watching the people whispering with scared expressions on their faces.

It took her two minutes to pull herself together and she cleared her throat.

“Is that him?”

You gawked at her for a couple of seconds, your mouth agape.

“Mom, there’s a dead body upstairs,” you reminded her, “Read the room.”

She shook her head, “Of course, it’s the shock talking.” she said, stealing a look at you, “Sorry. It’s such a tragedy.”

“It is.”

“….But seriously, is that him?”

You groaned and closed your eyes, throwing your head back and slipping a little in your seat.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 8

                                           ***

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#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #dr spencer reid #spencer #reid #reid x reader #reid imagine #reid imagines #spencer x reader #twisted

[the-cult-of-russo]

Hues of Gold

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request : do a billy russo x reader with the reader having an art job and them meeting due to that somehow

Warnings: none 

A/N: Here it is, my first Billy x Reader. I'll be getting to the prompts in my inbox too but still feel free to send me more requests. You don't need to pick from the prompt lists, if you have an idea then just send it on over. Nothing is off limits and I write for every type of Billy. S1 Billy, S2 Billy, pre-show Billy, all the AU Billy's you can think of lmao Gimme them all.

You tilted your head a little, eyes sweeping across the paint on the easel in front of you. The piece was coming together nicely. You'd started at humble beginnings with your artwork as a street artist. You hadn't been able to afford art school and you didn't feel like people needed to if they just felt it. And you did. You'd been a hit with your expressionist art and before you knew it, you were getting wealthy clients and more money. Now you had your own little studio with an apartment on top. It wasn't flashy but it was yours and you loved it. The work you thought was good enough for your new clients would go up on your website, they'd buy them and then you'd send them off to their new home. It was simple and you got to spend every day painting to your heart's content. 

You bit your lip as you mixed two golds together to get the perfect shade you were after. Some of your pieces were weirder than others, others being more realistic or using average colors. Some of them were darker in theme or used more vibrant colors with looser shapes. It was all dependent on how you felt when making it. The one currently being worked on wasn't finished by any means. Oil paint often required many layers and getting it to dry in between time. But if someone was to gauge your mood by this one, well… they'd say you were most likely sexually frustrated. It was a naked woman laying on her back on rumpled sheets, just her torso and a bit of her leg to leave the rest to the imagination. Her male counterpart was pressed up against her as the bodies melded together, his hand gripping her thigh. The colors you'd picked for this were hues of red, orange, yellow and gold, making it look like the couple were set ablaze. The epitome of passion. It was coming along nicely. 

Your work cell rang breaking you from your thoughts. You gave your hand a quick wipe on the ratty towel next to you as you picked it up, answering with your full name. 

"Hi, I'm lookin' for some art and I've heard you're the girl to go to," a smooth voice came through the phone. The fact that someone recommended this guy to you made you smile. It always did. It meant people were pleased with your work. 

"I am. Have you checked the website? That's where my current pieces are," you murmured softly.

"I did but… I haven't really found the one yet. And a friend of mine tells me you've got a bunch of exclusive stuff at your studio," he replied.

You glanced around your studio. He wasn't wrong entirely although you wouldn't call them exclusives. You'd call them rejects if you were honest. Your new clientele were more demanding and it made you second guess your pieces more often than you'd like to admit. This led to many of them finding a home in your studio instead. You were unsure who the man's friend was as typically you didn't have people come to the studio. It was a very rare occurrence and you couldn't imagine him being interested in any of these pieces. But a customer was a customer.

"You're more than welcome to come down and look at them. I'm not sure you'll find what you're looking for though, I've kept them offline because they're in the reject pile," you snorted wryly. His smooth chuckle was soothing as it hit your ears and you nibbled on your lower lip.

"Well I'll be the judge of that," you didn't know what he looked like but you could hear the smirk in his voice. You told him the address before hanging up.

You were a little nervous of someone coming into your space and judging the art you'd already deemed not worth putting up for sale, but you decided to roll with it. It was too late now and it wouldn't be a good look for your business to tell the guy he couldn't come. You decided to continue the piece you were working on to keep your mind occupied, having no idea just when the man would decide to show, or if he would at all. 

It was an hour later when the large wooden door knocked and you called out that it was open. You stood up and wiped your hands on the towel again, not that it helped much. You were sure you had paint on every part of you, it was half the fun of making art. The man walked in and you were a little surprised by just how handsome he was. He was dressed to the nines in a suit with his hair slicked back, the sides shorter than the top. He certainly looked like your usual clients but you couldn't remember any of your fancier clients ever bothering to call you, never mind actually coming to see your other pieces. 

The smile he shot you was disarming and you replied in kind as you walked over to him. You reached out your hand to shake with his before retracting it rapidly when you noticed just how much of a poor job the towel had done. He seemed amused if his chuckle was anything to go by and you snorted.

"Uh… welcome. Feel free to look around. I haven't really got prices for these since I wasn't gonna sell them so I'll settle for whatever," you shrugged with a smile. Anything was better than nothing that you were getting by keeping them here. Besides, you were pretty sure he wouldn't even like any of them. 

You didn't want to crowd him as he looked around so you went right back to your easel and sat on the stool. He walked around leisurely, stopping at each piece and looking at them. Your eyes kept flitting to him without meaning to, you weren't sure if it was how attractive he was or the nerves of having someone assessing your work this way. Maybe both. He didn't strike you as an art kind of guy honestly. Most of the rich clients weren't, they just wanted a statement piece for their walls for people to talk about. There wasn't anything wrong with that of course, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't miss it back as a street artist when people bought a piece simply because it spoke to them and they loved it. Onwards and upwards though, right? 

"So… who's the friend? That told you I had stuff here?" You asked after a moment, unable not to because your curiosity was getting the better of you. He glanced over at you from where he stood and smiled. 

"Curtis," he replied. Your eyebrows raised a little with that information. You'd met Curtis back when you were a street artist and he bought something for the group he was running. He was a nice guy and he checked in every so often with you. You wouldn't say you were friends but you really liked him and you had some good conversations. You couldn't imagine Curtis being friends with this man though.

Noticing the shock on your face, the man chuckled.

"We served together when I was in the marines. He's a good guy, one of my closest friends," he supplied. 

"You were a marine?" You hadn't meant to ask like it was such an absurd notion but it came out anyway. You just hadn't expected it He looked amused though and he nodded.

"Yeah. When I got out I set up my own private military firm, ex military people with no purpose. I give 'em somethin' to fight for. A brotherhood. We're doin' pretty well," he had a bright smile on his face, gesturing to his suit when he said they were doing well and you found yourself smiling back. 

"You must be really proud. It's amazing that you're doing that for them. I mean… I never served or anything but Curtis tells me about some of the guys from his group sometimes. I bet you really help them," you said sincerely. You had no clue what it must be like to serve and you knew you didn't have the stomach for it. But some of the things Curtis had told you had made you sad and you were impressed that the man had set up something like this on his own. Something to help others just like him. He shot you another smile before going back to looking at the artwork and you couldn't take your eyes off him. 

Figuring he'd catch you looking at him, you forced yourself to focus on adding more gold to the art you were working on. You weren't sure how long had passed until he spoke again and it startled you. You'd almost forgotten he was there.

"This one is… interesting. I like this one," he mused, eyes on the work on your easel as he stood beside you. Your cheeks tinged a little pink at the phrasing he used but you recovered quickly. 

"Thanks. I like this one too but… it won't end up on the website. The last erotic piece I put on there apparently offended people," you said with a wry grin. He laughed, the sound low and short but his eyes went to you then. Holy shit, his eyes are… wow. 

"Well it definitely doesn't offend me. How long will it take to finish?" He asked as his obsidian orbs went back to the painting.

"A couple of days at most. It's almost done and then it needs to dry and be sealed," it was nice talking about your work with someone, even as mundane as when it would be complete. You missed that interaction since you got the studio.

"I'll take it. How much?" he flashed you a smile that made your stomach flip around on you and you bit your lip with a smile back. 

"That's up to you," you shrugged. You never bothered putting prices on pieces you knew you wouldn't sell and you hadn't expected to sell this piece. Even the prices on the website felt too much for you but it was born from the first wealthy clients and what they thought your pieces were worth. You just rolled with it, it wasn't like they'd miss it, right? 

He hummed, the sound deep in his throat as he got out his wallet. You mused he must want it mailed to him when it was done for him to pay now rather than later but you were happy it was cash and not card. He handed you some bills and you counted it quickly, eyes widening as you blinked up at him.

"I can't take this. This is more than the pieces online," you frowned, holding out the money back to him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders.

"You said it was up to me," he replied with an easy smirk. Would you really sit there and argue with him about getting more money for it? No. But you were shocked he thought it was worth that much. 

"I… thank you, sir," you smiled, stuffing the money into your pocket. 

"Billy," he clarified, smirk still in place. 

"Billy," you corrected with a shy smile. Something glittered in his dark eyes as you tested the sound of his name and he raked his teeth over his lower lip. Despite the fact you'd already given him your full name on the phone, you gave him your first name again  and he mimicked you as he tested it out. Why did it sound so good coming from his mouth? 

You cleared your throat, his intense stare was getting a little too much and you stood, walking over to the big table against the wall, grabbing a pen and pad. 

"You can leave your details, I can mail it to you when it's done," you handed them to him and he twirled the pen around in his long fingers with ease.

"I'll leave my number. I'd like to come pick it up when it's done, if that's okay?" He asked as he scribbled his name and digits down. 

"Are you sure? It's not an issue shipping it out," you replied as he passed you back the pen and pad. 

"I'm sure. It gives me an excuse to see you again," he smirked, dark eyes boring into yours as your cheeks turned pink. He chuckled and with that he was out the door and you were left stood there gaping where he went. Did he really just…? 

You stood there a moment longer, a smile working its way onto your face before you shook your head and sat back down at your easel. You glanced at the painting before setting to work and getting it finished. You couldn't wait for it to be done so Billy would come back. He was intriguing and you found yourself thinking of him as you continued your work. 

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher

[twonderland]

☆*:.｡ NRC HAS A MAID CAFE ?!? .｡.:*☆

Note: sooo this is my first writing ! Omg I’m so nervous I have never written for any fandom before but I wish this goes well 🙏🏻😂 anyway, hope y’all like it and if you have any thoughts about it pls comment I would really appreciate it ☺️💖💖

Summary: NRC was organizing a school festival to attract new students and also to let the guys have a day of fun and chill. However the dorm leaders were out of ideas while deciding what activities they were gonna have, until you decided to talk about some options of what your school used to do in this kind of events (before coming to twisted wonderland), most of those activities were really alike to what NRC already had, except one thing ...

- when you mentioned that in your “dimension” there was different options that could be introduced in NRC at the festival he was actually pretty interested. Obviously he would have to make some changes so that “activities” could fit in Heartslabyul rules but, he never thought that he could have the opportunity to see you in such an ... outfit.

- Who does he think he can fool ? He’s a blushing mess and can’t even look at you in the face. How can he ? The moment you got out of your room with that white coping, that really short skirt, and oh god the stockings

- You look so cute and obedient and hfkogkebdiej

- The plan was simple, you were a “maid” and the boys attending the clients at your side were butlers, easy ! Except from the part of talking to you

- He’s angry because he can’t believe that such an outfit has this power over him and he thinks “god Riddle get yourself together and just talk to her about the menu” but somehow you think he’s angry for some strange reason since he tends to get all red face when he is angry (poor bean he’s trying his best to not collapse)

- HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! HE DIDNT HAVE SUCH A HARD UPBRINGING FOR NOTHING !! he goes with a straight face to your direction and then .... “(y/n) ! Have you learn your lines ?! Customers need the best of attention from this establishment !!” (Riddle this is just a classroom turned into a maid cafe, chill)

- “Ah sure Riddle-senpai, just look *you clear your throat* Welcome home master !!”

- Riddle.exe has stopped responding

- what ? A maid cafe ? Isn’t it just like the rest of the maids at his palace in Afterglow Savana ? He’s used to being attended by this kind of servitude at his homeland but he had never seen Classic or French (I leave that to your imagination ☺️) maid style

- He thinks “ohoho this can be quit interesting” and has that smug smirk in his face, OF COURSE he’s gonna take this opportunity to tease you

- However after he sees you in that cute and tempting outfit, for a little moment (just a little moment) he doesn’t want to admit it he goes shy, stops just a moment to admire you from head to toe in your outfit, you go like “what? “ and then he just shrugs it out just in time before you notice “hmph are you some kind of panda ?”

- Seems like he doesn’t care but actually you never get out of his view, he drinks his woman respect juice every morning but not the rest of the students

- If he sees that some idiot gets a little too close to you he may roar from across the cafe and shoot some killing glares to those idiots and problem solved

- Don’t get it wrong, he’s still Leona and may slide the tip of his tail under your skirt a little ... just a little 😏

- He listens to all your descriptions of the activity of the maid cafe, takes notes and adds some good ideas so everything’s on point

- He’s pretty chill the majority of the time while preparing everything, he even helped you to practice your lines so you could attend customers with the best training !

- Until ... he saw you in character. It was kind of a self goal since he told you to not get out of character when you wear your uniform, how fool and unfortunate (lucky) soul he was

- “Ashengrotto- sama ? I had some doubts about the menu ...” “yes ? (Y/...n)”

- his glasses break

- Azul.exe has stopped responding x2

- His mind can’t process all the things that are going on, you , on a cute really really short skirt, calling him “sama” with your innocent voice, and OH LOOK AT THAT

- THIGHTS

- he didn’t know he had a thing for thights until this day

- Tries to solve all your doubts without stuttering but fails miserably

- Thinks really seriously in a way to make you sign a contract where you accept to wear that outfit whenever you visit octavinelle (azul that’s practically impossible but ok try 😂)

- OMG A MAID CAFE ?! It’s foreign and interesting !! This guy is all in after you finish to talk about your idea

- Kalim is also used to being all pampered and having hundreds of people attending him at all times so he’s really curious about what is the difference between what he knows and what you know

- You tell him that is nothing too awesome, but is more to have fun in getting into character of “master and servant” BUT NOTHING IS BORING IF YOU ARE IN IT he tells you that you don’t need to worry and he just wants to participate in the experience

- He doesn’t assist as a butler but like a customer, and the night before the event he can’t sleep from the excitement, “Jamil, how do you think is a maid ?” “Idk Kalim sleep now” “ne~ ne~ Jamil do you think that (y/n) will call me master? tehehe” “OMG KALIM ENOUGH” poor Jamil he also couldn’t get enough sleep that night

- He’s one of the first clients to arrive and oh god ... when he finds you. He doesn’t know what is it with that uniform that it makes you look ADORABLE AND BEYOND also ... kind of .... ?? (Sexy kalim the word you look for is sexy) he just doesn’t know how to react the very first seconds but doesn’t last long until

- “Kalim-sama ! Welcome back, we are so enlightened to see you again”

- What is this ? Why is he feeling funny things in his stomach, every time he’s called like that in his palace it doesn’t happen anything, is something of everyday but now...

- “.... kalim-sama ?” “AH ! Sorry sorry ! Haha I zoned out , say ... could you say that again ? It was so fun !” “Uh.. hu, of course, if that’s my master’s wish !! ☺️” (HAPPY BOY HAPPY BOY HAPPY BOY)

- He probably is inside the maid cafe for very long time just to hear you every time you come around

- “Is everything alright master ? Would you like something else ?” “YES ! One more parfait please !! “ meanwhile Jamil is like “KALIM STOP, YOU HAVE ALREADY ORDERED 30 PARFAITS !!!, what are we going to do with all of this ?!”

- “the potato ? As a servant ? That’s hilarious” Vil is aware of all the maid thing since where he comes from wealthy families tend to have this kind of employees in their mansions

- NEVERTHELESS he can’t have a girl/boy in NRC dressed as a maid and you NOT 👏🏻 BEING 👏🏻 ON 👏🏻 POINT

- DRESS ! Check HIGH HEELS ! check STOCKINGS ! Check .... he goes on and on

- “Vil-senpai, I’m really grateful that you have taken your time to help me but don’t you think that your dorm also needs help-?” “SHUT UP GRACELESS POTATO we are not getting out this classroom until you learn how to move graciously in those high heels between tables while holding the tray , NOW LETS START AGAIN”

- At the end of the day somehow you have managed to make him happy, the next day you will show all your effort to Vil !

- He comes with Rook, it seems that he’s looking for you with his eyes but when you look back at him you never expect to receive such a gentle and proud look

- “Vil/senpa- ! I mean ... “Vil-sama !! Welcome ☺️” you say nervous yet excited to see him there. “Good enough, it looks like even dirty potatoes can turn into princess” (you are like “wait I’m the maid here, not a princess 😅”)

- Vil leans forward and puts a string of hair behind you ear and says in a low voice so only you can hear “a really pretty potato indeed”

- He enters the maid cafe and leaves you blushing in the entrance

- “Are we gonna treat ourselves or what potato ?! “ “ ah ! I’m so sorry master !!”

- Vil has a satisfied smile

- He is so grateful that every time he attends councils is via LIVE ‘cause the moment you said “maid cafe” he spilled the beverage he was drinking

- “m-m-m-mAID CAFÉ ?!” He can’t believe this is happening, for some seconds he can feel a creepy smile appearing in his face until ...

- “But how am I going to go to the cafe ?, I can have Ortho going there but knowing him he will focus the camera on desserts and not in (y/n) costume ... NOT THAT IM A CREEP OR SOMETHING Ijustwanttoseearealmaidinaction well is not that she’s/he’s “real” per say but-“

- Ortho is listening to all his mumbling from back his seat

- “Onii-chan 😊”

- “Ah... what is it Ortho ?”

- “Just go 😠”

- It took A LOT from his little brother to convince him to go and look for you

- The day of the festival it was CROWDED as hell and he was sooo grateful that the classroom where you were having the cafe had a window that had a view to one of the gardens

- He was peeking all the movement from the window looking for you, but some minutes passed and he started thinking (what am I thinking ? Obviously she’s not gonna see me from here ... but entering is NOT an option either ... maybe I just should go-) “Iidia-San?”

- You scared the crap out of him, he was lost in thought but thanks to that he didn’t go

- “Ah! Sorry sorry, Um ... (you remember your character) “iidia-sama, is something the matter ? Why are you out there ?”

- Perhaps Zeus had pity on his soul. You look SO CUTE SO ADORABLE SO SEXY-

- “Uh.... no, it’s just ... there’s a lot of noise inside” you know about his anxiety and you tell him “well, doesn’t my master want something ? I can bring him anything he desires to this window if Iidia-sama wishes”

- He just had a nosebleed

- “I-Iidia- sama ?!” “Ah ! Sorry .... Um yeah o-one crepe... p-please”

- He goes back to Ignihyde with a delicious crepe and a memory of you calling him master... but wait a sec...

- “WHY DIDNT I BROUGHT A CAMERA?!?!?!?!” “I ALSO COULD HAVE RECORDED HER/HIS VOICE DAMN IT!!!!”

- maid ... cafe ? This is interesting

- He was processing everything, from the concept and your explanation to all of the reactions that caused in the guys

- (Why were they so shocked ? Well I guess I will have to find out)

- He’s royalty and everyone calls him “sama” all the time, well except from Lilia, so he thinks that a bunch of butlers calling him that again isn’t any different ... but you 🤔

- How intriguing, you always call him “senpai” or “san” ... now this have caught his attention

- His dorm was organizing everything quite well and as usual Diasomnia had really disciplined members so his presence wasn’t really that necessary so he went to Lilia and asked him about this “maid cafes”

- Lilia knew about the maids but also didn’t understand the concept of mixing maids and cafes, but Lilia being the little devil he was he said some ... funny information that could intrigue Malleus

- “They are humans, but just like pixies they charm every man when they see them” “charm them ? But (y/n) is human ... how can she/he charm anyone ?” “Hehehe you will understand when you see her/him”

- The day arrived, and oh yeah, Lilia was right, he was expecting you to be little and with wings, leaving pixie dust behind but no ... it was just you with a strange yet cute little skirt and fluffy sleeves... your eyes looked at him and your little cheeks tainted a light shade of pink ... (what is this ? I can’t stop looking at her/him) he was in daze

- “Umm .... Malleus-sama ?”

- “Uh .... I’m sorry, so this is a maid ... you are quite powerful”

- “ uh.. hu” you just said your lines when you saw him but he didn’t seem to have listened to you so you decide to repeat them

- “Welcome back Malleus- sama ! We are so enlightened to receive you !!”

- Again .... he’s dazed , but this time he did hear you, so acting a little weird he enters the cafe, you handle him the menu and explain the recommendations

- You are so nervous trying to remember all your lines that you don’t notice it but Malleus is admiring everything about you with loving eyes

- You take his order and go to the kitchen (he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he just ordered since he isn’t familiar with the dishes but anyway)

- Maybe he doesn’t notice himself but he’s looking at you everywhere you go with a little smile on his face

- “Maybe (y/n) has magic after all”

#twisted wonderland #twst #fanart #twst headcanons #twst riddle #riddle roseheart #twst leona #leona kingscholar #twst malleus #malleus draconia #twst kalim #kalim al asim #twst idia #idia shroud #twst ortho #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #twst vil #vil schoenheit

[opalesense]

the last appointment

zhongli & gn!reader

3.4k words • ~25 min. read

summary: as a studious and credible fortune teller in liyue, you discover something about your last client of the week that completely derails your outlook on life.

warnings: liyue arc spoilers, little bit of existential dread, slight mention of family member’s death

notes: might make more parts to this idk?  just kinda wanted to dip my toes into genshin writing for the first time!!

LIFE IN LIYUE HARBOUR seemed to be repetitive and mundane.  For the past few years, you would wake up, open your fortune telling shop, analyze the futures of your clients using your geomancy, possibly take a stroll around Liyue when you needed to run errands, and then call it a day.  You performed the same routine constantly, sometimes travelling beyond the harbor to collect crystals and magical supplies for your shop, but rarely did anything truly change in your routine.  If something was off in the slightest, it was never too exciting to note.

   As anyone would have suspected, you were tired of your state of limbo in life.  Other vision holders seemed to be going on adventures, travelling with companions and exploring the vast mountains and valleys of Teyvat.  Other vision holders seemed to be fighting against evil, helping citizens, and saving the world from imminent dangers.  You could even recall a recent event where the Qixing had evacuated the harbor to defeat a terrifying sea monster.  The Jade Chamber had been sacrificed for the safety of the people of Liyue, and yet here you were, playing with a bunch of rocks for a living.  Despite being able to grasp the glowing Geo vision that held your coat together, you could not grasp why you felt doomed to tend to this shop for the rest of your days.

   You didn’t know where or how to “start” your life.  The small, inherited establishment from your late aunt was located in the small alley of Chihu Rock, practically out of sight from most of the foot traffic in the harbor.  Not many people came to visit, though your name was still decently known.  In fact, most of your appointments were simply previous clients from your aunt, regulars that relied on her readings for years and believed you were the next best thing after she passed.  Especially considering you were the first vision holder in your family, it made your credibility even stronger.

   You still remember how you got your vision.  The morning after your aunt had passed, the elemental gift somehow made its way into your hand as if the timing was meant to be perfect.  You didn’t celebrate such a special and momentous occasion with pride or joy.  Your face stiff with tears, you instead reflected on why you received your vision at that moment in the first place.  With the shop doors closed upstairs, you gripped your vision and did what you felt needed to be done.  With your family’s legacy and tradition on the line, adventuring like other vision wielders was not a priority at the time.

   But after years alone of research, a social life consisting only of interacting with customers, and a constant state of grieving the experiences you could’ve had in your youth, you were now in your late twenties and closing the shop for the day.  Your last appointment was either extremely late or not showing up at all and you were tired of working today, just like every other day. Regret gripped you tightly as you wondered how you managed to get yourself in such a boring, slow burning loop.

   That is until the shop door opened, eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden noise, shattering the previous thought.  You accidentally dropped the basket of cor lapis you were refilling and immediately knelt down to pick up the precious pieces that thankfully hadn’t cracked on the way down.

   “Hello, [Y/N],” the tall figure practically glided through the doorway, “My deepest apologies for being late.”

   He closed the door behind him, “...and for startling you, it seems.”

   You sighed, checking for any scratches on the gems and sighed again with relief based on the good results.  You grinned to hide the fact you had just been in deep thought.  “It’s quite alright, Mr. Zhongli.  It’s kind of you to stop by at the very least, even if you’re late.”

   Mr. Zhongli was one of your aunt’s longtime clients.  Since you were a child, your aunt had always described Mr. Zhongli as a complex yet thoughtful man that had always shown kindness to your family for many years.  When Mr. Zhongli learned of your aunt’s death and began to receive readings from you instead, you quickly realized what your aunt meant by calling him complex.  Mr. Zhongli was truly a tough nut to crack in every single reading, his sessions taking longer than most other cases.  That is why Mr. Zhongli would always offer to take the last spot of the day at the end of every week as to not trouble any of your other clients.

   As you took a few of the best cor lapis from the basket, you could see Mr. Zhongli’s acts of kindness and thoughtfulness unfold in front of you.  He seemed to carry what was now clearly a gift basket at closer inspection.

   “This gift is for you,” Mr. Zhongli took a few steps forward to set the basket on a countertop.  “I brought you your favorites.  Slow cooked bamboo shoot soup, qingxin, glaze lilies, and all the crystals I could find…  needless to say, let this be a token of my appreciation for your patience and hard work from our last few sessions.  I know I am not the easiest to read, but you truly have a talent.”

   You were speechless at the gesture as your eyes sunk into the intricate detail of the handwoven basket and decorated items inside.  No one had ever done something so kind for you in so long.  It was astonishing enough that he remembered your favorite soup that you mentioned only once a few months ago, let alone your favorite flowers and crystals as well.  “Thank you so much, Mr. Zhongli!   I’m at a loss for words – this is so thoughtful of you!”

   “I even brought you that Rex Incognito series you had mentioned, although, I am not sure why you would need to read the series when I am fully capable of educating you on the history of Rex Lapis myself,” he flaunted, taking his seat on the cushioned chair in front of the reading table.

   “Now, Mr. Zhongli...” you picked out some prithiva topaz from another basket, following the usual protocol you had with such a personalized, frequent client like him. The required materials for his readings were imprinted into your memory like carvings in stone. “You know I don’t want to burden you with my curiosity.  And with such an intriguing topic like Rex Lapis... once I start asking questions I’m afraid I will not stop.”

   “I have all the time in the world,” he got comfortable in his seat as you sat yourself across from him, “I truly think it would benefit you to discuss the history of Rex Lapis with a learned scholar such as myself.  We can even have some tea as we discuss.”

   You chuckled at his eagerness.  He seemed more forward than usual. “You are too kind, Mr. Zhongli.  Perhaps I’ll take that offer someday, but at least let me put those books to good use first. Maybe I won’t need to bombard you with questions if I’m already well briefed on the subject.”

   He sighed happily.  “You make a good point. And you will enjoy them, I’m sure.”

   You settled into your seat as you arranged the crystals between the two of you.  “The usual for tonight?”

   “Yes, please.”

   Your hands meticulously placed the last crystal in its spot on the surface.  You closed your eyes and hovered your hands above the rocks, clearing your mind to make way for the usual reading: a reflection on the past, any significant events of the present to focus on, and some insight into the future.  You held this hand gesture for awhile, letting the energy from the rocks lift into the air and envelop your gloved palms.  When you felt there was enough energy to work with, you opened your eyes to reveal the manifestation of his thoughts in front of you, able to take its physical form using the powers from your glowing vision.

   No one had ever taught your this skill, not even your aunt.  If you had to bloat your own ego, one could say you invented this Geo fortune telling process yourself. The process indeed came to you naturally, a true display of pure talent.

   You slowly lifted your hands to allow the visual manifestation to settle on the table among the gems so Mr. Zhongli could watch his reading unfold in front of him as well.

   “Let us analyze the past first,” he spoke, already knowing the routine without you needing to ask him where to start.  You slowly waved your hands as if you were digging a hole in sand on a beach, the manifestation displaying ambiguous patterns that wouldn’t make sense to any commoner’s eyes but could be interpreted easily by yours.

   Two pairs of focused eyes fixated on the picture as you spoke your mind out loud.  “You have recently given up something extremely important to you, it seems.  I see you handing over something…  small, physically, yet unbelievably significant and personal.  I can’t tell what it is exactly, only that it glows like the sun with its energy.  But you have handed this important object over to a very... evil... figure?” you cocked your eyebrow, confused.  “You seem to be brooding over the fact that its aura is dark with malicious intentions.”  You hesitated, “Well, that can’t be right, can it?”

   He sighed.  “Unfortunately, that is indeed what happened recently.  But it had to be done.”

   “Didn’t we talk about a similar situation in a previous reading?  If I remember correctly, I thought I had advised you to not give up whatever that object was.”

   “I am aware of the consequences that will follow.  Especially with your future guidance, I’m sure the events following this one questionable decision will unfold in a better way soon enough.”

   “I will always be here to help you, Mr. Zhongli.  But please be careful in the future with these decisions.  The importance of this object seems to be off the charts.”

   He nodded.  “It is as you say.  Please, have faith in me now. I cannot change what happened in the past, after all.”

   You hovered over this image of the sacrifice.  You couldn’t make out what this object was, no matter how close you tried to inspect it.  It had the likings of a chess piece, but surely this wasn’t simply a chess piece, was it?

   “Let us move on, if that is alright with you,” his low voice cut the silence.

   You wiped the image from your mind and waved your hands again, as if you were slowly putting the sand back into the hole you dug before.  If the last image wasn’t enough bad news, this new one that formed was even more painful to witness.

   “You have been grieving your losses very recently,” you said gently.  “Your mind is currently weighed down by your past.  I see you looking out at the sea in deep thought.  There are flashes of…”

   You stopped as you inspected the graphic images that suddenly appeared beyond your hands.  You gasped at the terrifying horrors.

   “What is it?” the low voice tried to search for understanding of what you were seeing.  Even though the image was clearly laid out in front of him, it was still too ambiguous to tell when he lacked your years of experience.

   “There are flashes of war,” your breath stifled as you watched his thoughts splayed out in images of lifeless bodies and destruction.  “Very graphic details of war and death.  Mr. Zhongli, I believe this image of suffering has been weighing over your mind like an anchor in the sea.”

   He paused to process your comparison.  “That is... a very good way to put it.”

   “Though, I believe that despite the sorrow that emanates in this image, you are in a state of relief and tranquility.  It seems you are grieving, but you are simultaneously at peace,” you hesitated again, “Yet I wonder what these graphic images of war are meant to represent.  Surely we are not in an actual war, are we? Perhaps you are at war with your past, wanting to move on but haunted by your memories?”

  Mr. Zhongli unfortunately knew the images you were seeing were, in fact, real events he had experienced in his life time and the truth was that lately he had been reminiscing on these events.  Mortal life is kind to humans for them to be blissfully unaware and carefree of these harsh realities, he internally commented.

  He still put your analysis into thought, though.

  “I am haunted, indeed.  I have been attempting to come to terms with my troubled past, just as you advised me only a few weeks ago.  I have tried to follow your guidance, and although they resurface what I have been trying to repress, I believe I am coming to peace with what happened.”

  You grinned.  “That is very good to hear, Mr. Zhongli.  I believe you are currently making good progress when it comes to moving on.  Just remember that it is okay to remember your sorrow.  Let your emotions pass through you instead of repressing them or rushing to move on.  It is okay to take your time and let the thoughts bubble inside of you for awhile.”

  He closed his eyes as you continued, letting your advice seep in.  You continued. “Imagine the stillness of the sea.  Many creatures and lost remnants take their place in the depths of the waters, but on the surface we see constantly moving yet serene waves wash over what is hidden below.  Your memories are there to stay, Mr. Zhongli.  But your present self, the surface of the water, can peacefully coexist with whatever is hiding deep within.  Let these thoughts weigh you down momentarily, but rest assured, you will find balance and acceptance in due time.”

  His eyes fluttered open as he reflected over your words.  You always seemed to know what to say.  “Your words have truly resonated with me, [Y/N].  And you are absolutely correct.  I have been fighting these memories to avoid the pain, but it had not dawned on me that sorrow is... what I am meant to feel, not push away.  I suppose your advice has put my mind at a bit more ease, and I suppose I am focusing too much on when I will be able to move on rather than allowing my thoughts to coexist for a moment.”

  “Now you’re getting it,” you grinned with the relief that washed over his face.

  “Shall we move on?” he offered.

  You got to work on the last segment of the reading.  If manifesting the other images didn’t take long enough, reading one’s future always took the longest.  Interpreting an event that hasn’t happened yet always made you a bit nervous with your words.  You never wanted to let a client down with an inaccurate reading.

  On the contrary, this reading, despite taking quite awhile to appear on the surface on the table, was very clear.

  “That is undoubtedly an image of me,” your eyes glazed over the facial features of the person in the manifestation.  “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Zhongli, I must have accidentally let my thoughts seep into yours–“

  “Do not fret, I believe this is accurate,” he interrupted.  “Keep going.”

  Your perplexed expression remained as you continued the reading.  “I am admittedly stumped.  There is nothing left in this image.  I suppose it is simply me standing in what looks like some ruins.  I am holding a staff, or some kind of long object.”  You paused to think out loud.  “Why am I in your reading?  What could this possibly mean?”

  Mr. Zhongli chuckled as you thought out loud.  “Perhaps this is a good time to tell you why you are in my thoughts.”

  “I’d love to hear it, I have never appeared in someone’s reading in my last decade and a half of experience.  This is quite unique.”

  He folded his hands in his lap, “For some reason, I have had this strange vision of training you.  I’m not sure why, since you don’t seem like the fighting type, but there is some voice inside me that is telling me you are destined for something great and i need to take some part in it.  What do you think, now that you see this vision as well?”

  Your eyebrows rose in shock.  “Training me?  I guess this does relate to something I have been pondering as of late.  I do not want to lay out my troubles on you though, my job is to interpret your life, not mine.”

  “Our lives have clearly intertwined in this vision,” he insisted, “Please do not hold back for my sake. I have the time.”

  You thought for a moment.  How could you form the words without seeming too selfish? How could you maintain professionalism by talking about your personal problems?

  “I am not the fighting type, Mr. Zhongli.  Though, lately I have been quite depressed about the fact that I am not doing as much with my vision as other vision holders are.  My life is uninteresting.  The truth is that I am a simple fortune teller that plays with rocks.  I hope you can understand why I am failing to interpret this reading,” you apologized. “It’s because this doesn’t seem characteristic of me at all.  And with all due respect, after giving you readings for years, I would have never guessed you were versed in combat to train me!”

  He chuckled.  “I respectfully disagree.  To tell you the truth, your talents surpass the abilities of many other vision holders.  Not everyone can read thoughts or tell the future.  Now that I mention it, I know of one talented astrologist in Mondstadt, but think about that.  You are one in hundreds of thousands in Teyvat,” he reassured.  “You did not receive your vision for no reason and I truly believe you are destined for something big.  I regret not being able to realize this before.”

  “How are you so sure of this?  I would love to believe you, but I’m afraid I am not destined for much, really.  Again, I am simply a fortune teller.  What could I possibly do for Liyue other than read some rocks?”

  He sighed and connected his palms with yours, interrupting the reading and wiping the manifestation off the table.  The hovering crystals dropped onto the surface, making you gasp at the sudden sound.

  “I am not who you think I am,” his amber eyes finally met yours for the first time this evening, which sent a chill down your spine.  “Promise me you will not fret, for what I am about to show you may shock you.”

  “What do you mean?  What are you doing, Mr. Zhongli?” you slightly panicked as he firmly grasped your hands.

  Suddenly, the room was engulfed in golden light that emitted from the seat across from you.  Scattered, distorted images of a mystical dragon, a devastating war, and seven seats in Celestia flashed across your eyes as you stared at the beams of light.  Death seemed to swallow you, but not take you.  The baskets of crystals around the room shook with the surge of energy.  The world seemed to destroy itself then remake itself over and over again within fleeting moments.  These thousands of years of memories made your body tremble.  It all happened within fleeting moments, and after a few seconds of your senses being overwhelmed, you finally pulled yourself together and connected the dots.

  His expanded knowledge of Liyue’s history.  The sudden gift of your vision immediately after your aunt passed.  Grieving his losses and having flooded thoughts of war and death.  Offering combat training.  Remembering your favorites the same way he would remember Liyue’s customs and traditions.  His glowing amber eyes alone.

  Mr. Zhongli was the God of Contracts and overseer of Liyue.  Rex Lapis, a being that lived for millennia, sat in the seat across from you. He had been posing as a mere mortal for years, taking readings as if he were any normal customer. The realization shook you to your core as you sat there bewildered, grateful, and horrified at the same time.

  He let go of your hands after seeing that the information successfully processed in your mind.  He saw something in you that was yet to be awakened, where the sky was the limit under your own expectations.  This daydream of his was no simple vision – it was a calling.  Internally, whether you agreed to it or not, he vowed that he would not leave your life until your true destiny was fulfilled.

  He would see this vow fulfilled by offering you a contract that would change the course of your life forever.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #rex lapis #mine #boom #genshin impact x reader

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 3

a/n: we love a little throwback with this gif, my heart 😭 again, i can’t thank you all enough for the love you’ve shown my writing it’s truly the sweetest thing and i’m happy you guys are liking the story so far! this was is the longest part so far with a lot happening, so happy reading! remember to leave some feedback and reblog cause it’s always appreciated.

and as always, thanks to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles​ and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles​ for beta reading ❤️

word count: 19k

warnings: mentions of a partner cheating (f*** mark), minor mention of drugs (aka weed lol), alcohol consumption (tequila anyone?), and serious! sexual! tense!

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Y/N didn’t realize she had left Harry’s apartment the other day with his hoodie on until the next morning when she had woken up to the sweet smell of faint lavender and laundry soap. She didn’t return the hoodie, though. In fact, she shamelessly slept in the hoodie for three more nights; it was just really comfortable, she tries to convince herself that’s the only reason she’s wearing it to bed each night. It wasn’t because the smell that calmed her, reminding her of that dimpled smile and dazzling green eyes that would wander into her dreams every night now and then. And it was especially not because she found herself falling for those same pair of eyes, no, not a shred of feelings besides friendship there.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Sammy deadpans.

“What are you talking about now?” Y/N questions, keeping her eyes on her phone as she texts back Harry.

“You and your little affair,” Sammy quips back. His choice of words causes Y/N’s head to quickly snap up and look at her friend. He’s giving her a bored look, a smug little smile on his face that makes Y/N narrow her eyes.

“I am not having an affair, Sammy, so let’s not start that rumour around the office, please,” Y/N says to him in a hushed voice. “Plus, Mark hasn’t bothered to call or text me in almost a week now. So, I’m pretty sure the next time we do talk it will be to end things officially,” Y/N explains, her voice falling flat as she feels her heart rate pick up just thinking of her and Mark breaking up. Regardless of the fact he’s hurt her feelings, annoyed her and so on - it’s still a break up, and they really freaking suck.

“I sure hope so,” Sammy says. “You know I’m team Harry all the way,” he gives Y/N a wicked smile which she only rolls her eyes at.

There were no teams to be on, she thinks. She was just becoming friends with Harry, and yeah, she found him ridiculously attractive and really sweet too, but she wasn’t dumping Mark for him or anything. If she was dumping Mark it was because of how their relationship turned out, without Harry’s help, and how neither of them are benefitting from being together anymore. Hell, they didn’t even have sex last time he was in the city. It also didn’t have to do with the fact that Y/N would be nervous that Harry could hear them. Nope that thought didn’t cross her mind not even once - Y/N finds herself biting on her bottom lip as she’s deep in thought and trying to convince herself certain things.

Her phone buzzes where she left it on her desk brings her back to reality. She picks it up and swipes up as the face ID recognizes her, opening up the messages, between her and Harry, that she was previously on. Y/N can’t help it as a chuckle leaves her lips. She notices how Sammy leans back in his chair and raises a brow at her, but she chooses to ignore him and instead keeps watching the gif Harry sent on loop over and over again.

It was a cartoon Santa, dabbing. Yes, Harry used a gif that had to do with a trend from the world's youth. Y/N never would have guessed Harry even knew what dabbing was. She holds back another chuckle and looks up a gif to respond to his. She goes for one that’s a cartoon of Rudolph, his nose lighting up like a strobe light as he dances on two legs. It’s silly, but she’s enjoying this back and forth texting of stupid Christmas themed gifs. It’s been going on for about five minutes and she doesn’t even know why or how it started, but she loves it.

How’s work so far today? Harry texts after sending a gif of the Olaf the snowman from Frozen, dancing in the field of flowers. Y/N tilts her head to the side and leans further back in her seat, stretching her legs under her desk. The work that was on her desk was long forgotten when her and Harry began texting earlier.

It’s good, I finally have a few moments of downtime at my desk. We had like four clients in this morning for some fittings for the many Christmas parties going on next week. Y/N sends that off before typing, How’s your day? Write anything good yet?

Glad it’s less busy now, don’t let me distract you with all these amazing Christmas gifs though. And I’ve got a few things written while at the cafe, finally found the right melody for another song I was working on last week. Harry types out to Y/N, biting on the nail of his thumb after hitting send. He’s been leaning on the guitar in his lap for the past twenty minutes. That melody was found, but pushed away after he got into texting Y/N.

Not too distracting, although I think Sammy is jealous no one’s sending him any silly gifs. A second text shows up only seconds later, Harry’s sometimes surprised at how fast Y/N can type. And that’s good though! Will I ever get to hear you play in person besides through the wall our apartments share?

Harry smiles over his thumb at the first text but then is biting at his nail again as he reads over the second bubble a few times. He isn’t too surprised that she can hear him play from her apartment, but he is surprised she’s asking to hear him play. He doesn’t think he’s all that great of a guitar player. It’s kind of hard to think when he’s best mates with one of the best guitar players in the industry; Mitch could outplay him any day. Harry stops biting on his nail and hovers his thumbs over his keyboard. Although he’s usually too nervous to just sit and play for someone, he finds himself imagining playing for Y/N.

Tell Sammy I’ll send him some gifs too if he wants. And as for playing for you, maybe... if you catch me on a good day. Y/N shakes her head at his response, somehow not too shocked that’s what he says. She recalls him not telling her what popular songs he had written, how his cheeks grew a shade of pink at the mere idea of Y/N knowing of his work. So, she’ll take her odds and pray that someday soon she gets Harry on a good day and hears him play something.

“Y/N,” Amanda’s voice calling her name causes Y/N to jump, sitting straight up in her seat and nearly dropping her phone. She shuts off the screen and feels the vibration from her Apple watch, a notification reading that it was time to head into the conference room to interview new interns with Amanda. Y/N looks over her shoulder to see Amanda standing behind her with her eyebrows raised and her lifeline of a notebook in hand. “You alright?” She asks, slight concern in her tone.

“Yeah,” Y/N clears her throat and stands from her desk, wobbling on her heeled boots as she gathers up her laptop and cell phone. “I’m all good, ready to find us some new interns,” she states with a smile.

Amanda gives her a look as if doubting her, but then nods as Y/N steps in front of her and they move into the conference room. It’s not until their third candidate that Y/N thought of her boyfriend. Her watch buzzes, flashing up at text from Mark, then one from Sammy right away. She ignores them and tries to focus on listening to yet another fashion student talk about their love for the industry and the company. She was once just like them, sitting on the other side of this conference table and grinning ear to ear from just being in the building. She still felt excited to come into work every day and she feels very grateful to still feel that way. So, therefore she doesn’t hate sitting there for a few hours and having a handful of first impressions with girls that she once was. But, in the back of her mind she’s wondering what Mark could have texted her. It’s been five days since the phone call she ended up hanging up on him. What could he possibly have to say?

“Thank you for coming in today,” Amanda says with a smile to their last interview of the day. The small blonde stands up as the two of them do, and reaches across the table to shake both of their hands before saying short goodbyes and letting one of the receptionists walk them out.

“I think I liked her the best,” Y/N comments, writing a quick note beside her resume.

“I agree. We’ll email back and forth a bit more about it. I’ve got another phone meeting with a few clients for the new year first,” Amanda explains as she’s reading over her planner before snapping it shut.

“Sounds like fun,” Y/N nods before walking separate ways from Amanda and heading back to her desk. As she gets closer, she can't help but notice the oversized bouquet of flowers on her desk. Her eyebrows pinch together as she slows her steps, taking in the beautiful pinks and oranges in the bouquet before reaching for the card that stuck out of it. Sammy pops up then, right by Y/N’s side almost breathing down her neck.

“Did you not get my text? These showed up like halfway through your interviews,” Sammy states, trying to read the card before Y/N can. She shields it’s away from his eyes and looks at him over her shoulder. “Sorry,” he apologizes and takes a step back.

Y/N reads the printed out note and finds herself sighing as she reads it over again. I’m sorry - Mark. Y/N shakes her head and rolls her lips into her mouth, staring at the bouquet again. That’s it, just sorry? She thinks, but then remembers that he had texted her too. Maybe there’s something more there but Y/N finds herself doubting it.

“Who’s it from?” Sammy questions. Y/N ignores him and pulls out her phone from her back pocket. She unlocks it and taps on her messages app, having to back out of her conversation with Harry in order to open up Mark’s text from earlier.

Did you get the flowers? The company sent me a notification saying someone signed for them. Y/N rolls her eyes at his careless text message; not an ounce of emotion behind any of his words, through text or on the note. She doesn’t find herself smiling at the flowers, thinking how it’s a nice gesture, but instead finding it ridiculous that her boyfriend missed the whole point of the fight and just thinks some random bouquet of flowers will fix everything that she’s feeling. Is he even bothered by the fact they fought and haven’t spoken in five days? She wonders as she shuts off her phone screen without responding.

“Mark sent them,” Y/N finally tells Sammy, turning around to hand him the card. After he grabs it, and Y/N turns back around and places a hand on either side of the vase. She turns on her heels and walks around her desk to the left, moving Sammy’s chair out of the way and placing them on his desk instead. “You can have them, they look better on your desk,” she stays in a flat tone of voice, feeling indifferent about if she should just throw them out or not.

“Are you going to break up with him?” Sammy asks, his voice is quiet and soft - sounding like a caring friend instead of a gossiping coworker.

Y/N bites down on her bottom lip and nods, “yeah, I think I am going to. I just don’t know how, breaking up with someone on the phone feels so shallow and I would hate to be broken up with over the phone.” She explains, turning back around to look at Sammy again. He’s frowning, a look of pity in his eyes.

“But it’s unfair to you both to keep this relationship going on like this, Y/N,” Sammy says, letting out a deep sigh and tosses the card in the garbage bin by Y/N’s desk. “You’ll know what to do, you always do,” Sammy adds on with a smile.

Y/N tries to mirror her friends smile but feels it fall flat on her lips. She’s doubting herself, doubting her choices with Mark these past four months, and she keeps doubting herself all day till she’s walking into her apartment. She closes her door and slips out of her coat. Y/N sighs and pulls out her phone while walking to her bedroom, taking a seat on the end of her bed before pulling up Mark’s contact.

Her fingers hover over the call icon, her heart beating a million miles an hour as she imagines how this phone call is going to go. Should she really break up with him over the phone? She thinks, yet again doubting herself. This was really the only way to do it, seeing as he won’t be in the city for who knows how long. Y/N didn’t want to be in this relationship anymore, especially since it started to feel less like a relationship as the days went on this past month. Y/N inhales deeply just as her phone begins to ring, Mark’s contact picture of him kissing her cheek fills the screen in her hand. Y/N exhales before tapping the green icon on the phone and bringing it to her ear.

“Hi,” Y/N says softly into the phone.

“Hey, you didn’t answer my text earlier,” Mark starts off the conversation with a hard tone of voice as if he’s annoyed. Y/N licks her lips and nods, even though Mark can’t see her.

“Yeah, um, sorry, work got busy,” she lies. She had the time to text him back, she just didn’t know what to say as her thoughts were clouded with how to break up with him.

“Did you get them?” Mark asks.

“The flowers? Yeah, I did,” Y/N sighs. She’s racking her brain on how to do this. How do you break up with someone over a phone call? She shakes her head and brings a hand to her forehead, pushing her fingers through the roots of her hair. “Mark, we need to talk,” she says, feeling that’s the best she can do - the good ol’ classic line.

“Yeah, we do,” Mark agrees with a sigh from him now. Y/N listens as it’s like something shuffles on the other end of the phone, as if Mark switches his phone from one ear to the other. “Look, Y/N, you’re a wonderful girl, truly, you are. But we’re not really benefiting from this, are we?” Mark says, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as her brows pinch together.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Y/N questions.

“Uh, yeah-”

“No, no, I’m breaking up with you. I have thought long and hard about this for days now, and I don’t think we should be together anymore, Mark,” Y/N blurts out quickly, feeling as though her moment that she’s been talking herself up to all day was being taken away from her. She releases the grip she had on her hair and stares straight ahead at the painting on her wall, waiting for Mark to say something.

He lets out a long breath, “then I guess this is a lot easier for the both of us then, huh?” He says. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief.

“I guess so,” she mumbles.

“I’ll uh, I’ll send my assistant over soon for any of my things I’ve left at your apartment. She’ll bring the few things of yours that are at my place too. Are you available tomorrow?” Mark explains, asking the question so casually too. In fact, he sounds like he’s distracted with something on his end of the call too.

“Have you had this planned for a while now or something?” She asks, her eyebrows only pull together tighter in confusion. How can he act so unbothered only seconds after breaking up with her? She thinks. Sure, it’s a mutual break up, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t bothered by it still.

“Uh, no,” Mark mutters, not sounding convincing at all. Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at herself - how did she even date this guy?

“You know what, whatever,” Y/N breathes out as her eyes close and she runs a hand through her hair, “I’ll be home from work around five in the evening tomorrow for your assistant to come by. Tell her to be on time, please,” she tells Mark.

“Alright,” he says. There’s a couple beats of silence between them, and she doesn’t feel upset over it at all. In fact she feels at peace with this breakup. She supposes that they didn’t date for long, and they never said I love you to each other and really didn’t spend too much time with one another the past two months. Maybe that’s why she’s not bothered by this break up at all.

“Well, it was fun, Mark,” Y/N says, “I wish you the best,” she adds.

“You too, Y/N,” he replies. And with that, Y/N brings the phone from her ear and ends the call. Staring at the screen that was on Mark’s contact info for a few minutes as she lets herself fall into her thoughts.

That was a lot easier than she imagined it to be earlier today. Y/N falls back on her bed, her hair fanning out around her as she holds her phone to her stomach and stares up at the ceiling. Did he have this planned though? She finds herself thinking. She imagines that he sent those flowers earlier to butter her up, maybe, before he called to break her heart only hours later. And having already made plans for his assistant to go through his apartment and bring her things to her. Maybe he already had gathered her things beforehand, meaning over a week ago he would have packed it up - only to come over to her house and fight with her for days on end before making her drive him to the airport. Y/N just shakes her head as her thoughts run wild.

Y/N knows exactly what she needs to do to get out of this overthinking stage that she’s got herself into. She gets up from her bed and opens her closet, her figure skates sitting on the bottom of the closet leaning nicely against each other. She finds an empty tote bag and tosses them inside, then quickly gets dressed into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, a plain white turtleneck long sleeve, and then layering by putting on a dark grey crew neck that has ‘LA’ in white writing across the front.

After making sure she has her wallet, phone and keys, she puts on a black puffer jacket and heads out her front door. Harry’s walking out of the elevator just as Y/N is locking up, he’s got a Starbucks hot drink in hand and a smile on his face.

“Hey,” Harry says, but then his eyebrows pinch together as he realizes the time, “where are you off to?” He wonders. Y/N brushes her hair from her face and lets out a small sigh.

“It’s, like, two weeks till Christmas and I haven’t gone skating yet, so I just got up and grabbed my skates to go out,” she explains, lifting her shoulder that her tote bag was hanging off. Her skates are poking out the top slightly, Harry notices the white figure skates with a pair of matching light pink guards on the bottom.  

“Oh, fun,” Harry nods, meeting her eyes again.

Y/N doesn’t even think twice before she’s asking, “did you want to come with me?”

Harry smiles, causing Y/N to mirror him, before he takes a few moments to nod in response. “I would love to, yeah,” Harry clears his throat, noticing how overly excited he may have sounded. “I should dress a bit warmer, though, it’s supposed to snow tonight,” he tells her, motioning to his apartment door down the hall.

“Good call,” Y/N says, following him to his doorway. Harry holds open his door for her after unlocking it, then letting it close softly behind them as he takes off the lighter jacket he had on. Y/N smiles at the decorations around his apartment, loving how the glow from the lights of his tree filled up the space around them before he can turn on any lights.

“I don’t have my own skates, suppose I’m not a real New Yorker like that,” Harry states as he opens the closet beside his front door and starts ruffling around in order to find where his scarfs were hiding.

“That’s fine,” Y/N says with a soft chuckle, turning around to watch as he sticks his head into the closet and pushes things around. “They have rentals at Bryant Park,” she tells him.

“I’ve never been,” Harry admits. He finally gets a hold of the long burgundy scarf with a brown leaf pattern on it, his mum had gifted it to him a few years back. Harry pushes the doors of his closet closed and puts the scarf down for a moment, hanging it on the door handle before he grabs his long black coat to slip it on. Once he’s got that on, he wraps the scarf around his neck, fixing the collar of his coat and the scarf so it’s comfortable.

“You’ve really never been to Bryant Park?” Y/N asks surprisingly. It wasn’t Central Park by any means, but anyone who lived in the Manhattan area typically had walked through Bryant Park.

“Nope,” Harry says, grabbing for his forgotten Starbucks drink, bringing it to his lips for a quick sip. He looks up at Y/N to find her smiling at him. “What?” Harry questions.

“Nothing, I’m just excited for you to see Bryant Park. It’s beautiful during the Winter,” she states.

“Well then, let’s not waste any time, come on,” Harry nods his head to the door and gives her a smile while holding it open for her. She thanks him, waits for him to lock the doors before they fall into step with one another to the elevator. Harry beats her to hitting the button, literally leaning in front of her in order to push the down button before she can. Y/N shakes her head at him, smiling.

“So how was your time at the cafe earlier?” Y/N asks Harry, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“It was good,” Harry says, tilting his head to the side so he can look at Y/N, “wrote another song about love,” he adds with a smile. Y/N chuckles and raises her eyebrows.

“Never would have guessed,” she teases him.

The whole walk to Bryant Park, all Harry can think about is when the hell was the last time he skated? That and how good Y/N looked, which is a thought that’s always going through his head, to be honest. But he’s stressing himself out, hoping and praying that some sort of muscle memory clicks in and he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of Y/N. God, maybe he should have just saved himself the embarrassing situation and declined her invitation. Harry knew the moment he looked into her eyes there was something a bit off with her; how her smile didn’t quite reach its full potential - so the moment she asked if he wanted to come along with her, he didn’t even think twice before saying yes. The girl has her own figure skates, Harry wouldn’t doubt it if she’s about to skate circles around him.

“All black outfit,” Y/N comments as she watches Harry pick out a pair of black skates in his size, “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear all black before,” she adds with a smile.

“I used to only wear all black,” he admits, “back in uni, I really didn’t venture out in fashion and only wore black jeans and black t-shirts basically all year,” he explains to Y/N, letting her lead the way to the area for skaters to sit on the many benches and do up their skates.

“I truthfully can’t even imagine that,” Y/N replies, taking a seat on the bench right by the open door to the ice rink. She looks out at the about forty people on the ice, lit up by the many Christmas lights hanging over it and a few light posts in each corner too, as the sun has fully set now. The city around them is still hustling and bustling as it always is, which makes her smile.

“It was a tragedy, but I got older and realized that fashion can be fun, especially after moving to New York, seeing what people wear out for some innocent ice skating,” he mentions, taking in Y/N’s fashion forward outfit. The style was very trendy these days, he had noticed - online and in the streets.

“I would be an abomination of a former FIT student if I just walked around New York City in leggings and a hoodie,” Y/N states, “if I’m going somewhere, with someone, I always feel the need to look good.”

“And you do, by the way, look good,” Harry says, his words coming out quick and in a bit of a stumble. Y/N can feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She says a quiet ‘thank you’ before she begins to lace up her skates.

Y/N has her skates done up before Harry, so she has an extra minute to take out her phone and open her Instagram app. She checks out her newest comments, liking a few, before she finds herself aimlessly scrolling through her feed and liking some posts there. Checking up on Harry, she notices he’s almost done doing up his skates, so she stands up and grabs her tote bag that now holds her skate guards and chunky black boots.

“Did you want to lock anything up?” Y/N asks Harry, motioning to the small lockers to their left.

He shakes his head, “no thank you,” he says before his attention is back on tying his skates. Y/N smiles at how his tongue pokes out just slightly passed his lips before she turns around and walks over to lock up her tote bag, making sure everything but her phone is inside.

Once the small locker door is closed, she walks over to the wall of the ice rink and opens her Instagram again, putting on a quick filter that makes it look like it’s being filmed with an old film camera before she pans her camera around while holding down the button on the screen. As she turns to face where Harry is, she cuts off the video and double checks he’s not in it. With having so many followers, she always makes sure that her friends and family are comfortable with being posted before doing so. Y/N adds a quick caption of ‘first skate this season’ with a white heart emoji before she posts it to her story, then she slips the phone into her back pocket and walks over to where Harry sat waiting for her.

“Ready?” Harry asks, smiling up at her.

“Yup,” she nods, smiling back at him. Harry nods, muttering ‘alright’ under his breath, and then stands up on wobbling legs. Y/N chuckles and reaches for his elbow, helping him stand up straight. “You’ve skated before, right?” She asks, realizing now that she only assumed that he had.

“Uh, it’s been a few years,” Harry admits, flashing another nervous smile her way. All he can think about is her hand on his arm, and how she hasn’t let go of him yet. Harry hadn’t even thought about the potential arm holding, or hand holding maybe, they could get into here. She has a boyfriend, he reminds himself over and over again as he watches her lips tug up as she smiles back at him again.

“Alright, we’ll take it slow then,” she assures him, pulling at his arm gently to get them moving forward on their skates.

Y/N takes the first step onto the shining ice, letting her blades slide over the top slowly before she takes a sharp turn and is in front of Harry in an instant. His eyebrows fly up his forehead as his eyes fall down to her skates again, noticing how worn out they look now, her left foot lifting up as she sticks the toe of her skate blade into the ice - her whole stance made her look like some sort of professional. Harry’s head snaps up and he meets her gaze, lips now smirking at his stunned expression.

“You’ve been skating a lot before then, hm?” Harry gulps, looking back down at his feet as he inches slowly to the ice.

“Since I was a kid,” Y/N reveals. He’ll touch more on it later, but first he wants to get himself onto the ice and get this embarrassment over with. Harry sighs and starts to place his right foot into the ice, letting out a deep breath as he does but just as quickly as he makes the move he’s slipping. Harry sucks in a sharp breath, ready to fall before he even has both feet on the ice. But both of Y/N’s arms fly out and grab a hold of his forearms, causing him to wrap each of his hands around her much smaller forearms.

Harry shakes his head and just decides to get it over with, pushing both skates onto the ice in a quick motion. Y/N is fully prepared for his sudden movement and skates backwards, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure she doesn’t get in anyone's way. She keeps a tight grip on Harry’s arms and smiles as she looks up at him and sees the stressed out look on his face.

“You’re doing great,” Y/N assures him, her voice causing Harry to look down and meet her soft eyes. “We can move a bit closer to the wall so you can hang onto it for the first bit?” She suggests, motioning to the wall beside them.

“Probably for the best,” Harry agrees, nodding his head and finally taking his eyes off Y/N’s in order to make his way to the wall. The few movements on his part aren’t as hard as he thought they’d be to get over to the wall. He thinks his muscle memory for skating will click in soon, hopefully.

Y/N takes it slow beside Harry, waiting for him to get comfortable enough to only need one hand on the wall before she lets go of his arm. She already misses the warmth from his touch. Not even one day into her and Mark’s break up and she’s already feeling touch deprived. To be fair, her and Mark hadn’t so much as given each other a few quick pecks and barely snuggling on the couch the last couple days they were together. Y/N shakes her head slightly at her thoughts of Mark.

“So how did you get into skating?” Harry asks after a few moments of them finding a slow pace.

“Um,” Y/N pauses as she thinks of how to explain how her parents didn’t want to spend much time with her, so they stuck her into many different hobbies to fill the void. “I was into a lot of the typical little girl hobbies, dancing, gymnastics, art, but figure skating was something that just really stuck with me as I grew up. Probably in connection with my obsession with the holidays, and the winter season,” Y/N explains, noticing already how Harry’s pace on his skates is picking up.

“Are you, like, really good?” Harry questions. Y/N chuckles and looks away from the ice below them to meet his gaze before he’s glancing down at his skates again in order to keep upright.

“Yup,” Y/N nods, rolling her lips into her mouth to hide her grin.

“So humble,” Harry jokes with a chuckle. “You could probably skate circles around me, huh? Do those little twirly things too?”

“I could do a few spins, yes,” Y/N says and nods her head. “I’ll let you get used to the ice first before I throw out any big moves,” she adds, looking down at how Harry’s feet were moving on the ice. Every minute he is getting better, soon enough he’ll let go of that wall and be able to skate in slow laps around the rink with her.

“How very considerate of you,” Harry notes, causing the both of them to chuckle again.

They do another two laps with Harry’s hand just inches away from the wall, hovering over it just in case he made the wrong move. But then soon enough, they’re mixed in with the other skaters and making strong, smooth strides across the ice. Y/N is laughing at something Harry says about how he must look like Bambi on ice, head thrown back and eyes crinkled up, when Harry just about falls. She catches him gasping and opens her eyes quickly before catching his hand in hers.

“You okay?” She asks, clear concern in her voice as she moves in order to meet his eyes. Harry knows this isn’t the first time they’ve sort of held hands, but it still feels like her skin is too warm for his cold touch and butterflies erupt in his stomach as she cards their fingers together so effortlessly. Damn Styles grow some balls and don’t let her make all the first moves, he thinks to himself.

“‘M alright,” Harry mumbles and nods, completely losing focus on the world around them as they float across the ice looking into each other's eyes and holding hands.

Y/N licks her lips, blinking up at Harry in what feels like an innocent way but realizes the moment his gaze drops to her lips that maybe it isn’t. Clearing her throat, she squeezes Harry’s hand and then slowly lets go. Harry can’t help but feel disappointed by how short they’d held hands for, he was hoping it would at least last a whole lap around the rink. Y/N shivers and sticks both of her hands into her coat pockets, playing off letting go of his hand with being cold, but in reality touching Harry’s skin made her feel like she was on fire.

“Tell me what your favourite colour is,” Harry blabs out loud suddenly.

Y/N furrows her brows and looks up at Harry. He’s no longer watching the ice with each stride of his skates, instead his posture is completely at ease almost as he seems much more confident on the ice now. Something tells Y/N that Harry is stupidly good at pretty much anything and if he doesn’t get it right the first time it would only take a few more before he masters it.

“It changes almost every other day,” Y/N admits, biting down on her bottom lip - which causes Harry’s eyes to flicker down to her lips yet again. “Lately it’s been green,” she exclaims, as she speaks Harry’s gaze falls back to her eyes.

“Like my eyes?” Harry teases, batting his eyelashes.

There’s suddenly a group of teenagers in their way, causing their conversation to pause as they have to maneuver around the few bodies. Harry finds that he doesn’t struggle at all with the quick movements he has to make with his skates in order to get around them. He smiles to himself, proud of how fast he’s picked up skating again. Maybe he’ll try the little twirly spin around Y/N to impress her. Too bad she’s much more talented on skates and is picking up speed before making a quick turn and is now skating backwards in front of Harry with her eyes narrowed and a tight smile on her lips.

“Firstly, that was a poor set up to try and get a compliment out of me, I’ll just tell you that your eyes are very pretty,” Y/N states. Harry smiles at her words, those pesky butterflies back in his stomach once again. “And second, my favourite green is more like a dark, rich, forest green,” she explains, quickly looking over her shoulder as they turn the corner of the rink. Harry notices how effortlessly she picks up her skates and crosses them over each other to smoothly take the turn.

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry wonders.

Y/N smiles and nods, “exactly, like a Christmas tree,” she says, a beat of silence between them before she asks, “what’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink,” Harry answers without missing a beat. It’s been his favourite for years now, since he was just a young lad.

“Like my lips?” Y/N teases, her voice dropping down into a low and soft tone that causes a fire to spark in the pit of Harry’s stomach. His eyes drop to her lips at the mention of them, which Y/N notices and smirks at him before she’s turning on her skates and facing forward again. They both don’t say anything as they skate around the other turn of the rink, avoiding an older couple that has slowed down in front of them. Y/N still has a smug look on her face when Harry glances to his left where she skates beside him. Obviously, yes, exactly like the shade of your lips, Harry thinks and wishes he had the guts to say aloud.

“More like,” Harry pauses and then smiles, “like the Pink Panther,” Harry jokes.

“You know what, fair enough,” Y/N chuckles and shrugs her shoulder.

The two of them continue to ask each other more random favourites, getting the basics down with favourite foods, favourite alcoholic drinks, and favourite word too, of course. In fact, they are just skating at a leisurely pace for quite some time. Y/N notices that the number of people on the rink dwindles down to a mere twenty and she lifts her Apple watch up, so it lights up and shows her the time. Bryant Park should be closing within an hour or two, depending if they’re on holiday hours yet, meaning that Harry and her have spent nearly two hours out on the ice together.

“I think it’s time you bust out some of those fancy figure skating moves,” Harry suddenly says unprovoked. Y/N furrows her brows and shakes her head, watching a young couple, just a few people ahead of them, holding hands, like how she wishes her and Harry could have been this entire time. But it’s too soon, she thinks.

“I don’t know,” Y/N mutters under her breath, her eyes still on the couple as they’re laughing together - much like how her and Harry have been. Did these strangers around them think they were a couple?

“Fine,” Harry huffs and starts to skate a bit faster to be a few strides ahead of Y/N before he comes to a wobbly stop a bit more into the middle of the rink out of everyone's way. Y/N comes to a much smoother stop in front of him. “I’ll give it a shot then, how hard can it be to spin around a few times.”

Famous last words, Y/N thinks as Harry tries to whip his body around to try and attempt to do a spin. She can already see how he’s lifting the toe of his left skate, the small ridges getting caught on the ice while his body is still trying to spin around. Y/N’s eyes widen as she suddenly tries to stop him, her hands just barely getting a hold of his arms before he can fall. But his weight is too much and her skates slip out from under her. A small screech escapes her mouth as the two of them begin their fall to the ice - for surprisingly the first time tonight. Harry turns them both so he gets the worst of the fall, moving Y/N so she falls more on top of him rather than on the ice. Y/N notices and quickly moves her hand to the back of his head to ensure he doesn’t smack it against the hard surface. Her fingers card through his hair, while her other hand is clenching into a fist around the fabric of his coat.

“Shit,” Harry groans as the bodies fall to the ice. Thankfully, he tries to sit up a bit during the fall, so he doesn’t hit his head but instead he feels immediately pain shot up his elbow and backside.

“Oh my god,” Y/N gasps, blinking several times as she takes in what had happened. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She asks Harry in a rush of words.

“I’m okay,” he nods, which causes Y/N to realize her hand is still brushing through his hair. She rubs his scalp a few times with her thumb before removing her hand and quickly lifting her body off of Harry’s. “I’ll probably have a bruised ass, but I guess that’s karma,” he tries to joke.

Y/N frowns and smacks his arm gently, “don’t pull that shit again, oh my god, I thought we were going to end our night in the ER.”

Harry chuckles and sits up, taking in how Y/N has sat up on her knees with both her hands resting on her thighs. Her hair is a bit of a mess and her eyes wide and wild with emotion - but otherwise she looks alright. Thankfully, Harry did good and kept her safe in their fall.

“Just need a few ice packs and maybe a joint before bed to ease the pain,” Harry says, only half joking.

“Wait,” Y/N’s eyebrows pinch together, “do you smoke weed?” She asks. To be honest, she couldn’t imagine Harry as some pothead. Not that there was a true look to a ‘pothead’ these days. Hell, she’s had her fair share of joints and edibles while in college. Even afterwards too, Sammy loved to roll a joint or two towards the end of their wine nights.

Harry shrugs and begins to get up from the ice slowly. “Not really. It makes me a bit sleepy, truthfully,” he tells her.

“I get that,” Y/N nods, “I don’t smoke often, but when I do, I typically fall asleep within the hour after smoking. It annoys the crap out of Sammy.” She tells Harry truthfully. Harry nods as well, only a little bit surprised to learn that Y/N didn’t say no to drugs in her youth. Not that he was judging, far from it really cause he had no room to judge, but he just simply didn’t imagine her consuming anything more than a bottle or two of wine.

The two of them get up off the ice now, finally getting back on their feet. A sigh leaves Y/N lips as she brushes her hands on her jeans. “I think you falling is our cue to get out of here,” she suggests, skating slowly backwards towards the doorway where the benches were.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agrees and begins to follow her, trying not to whine with his movements as a sharp pain stings his bottom with each stride of his skates.

Y/N leaves Harry to sit on the bench they had used before and goes over to unlock her locker and get her tote bag. Harry’s lucky no one stole his shoes he had just left under the bench with no care in the world, she thinks as she walks back over and sits beside him. She unties her skates and is slipping on her boots before Harry can even untie one of his skates. Y/N puts the guards on her skates and places them into her tote bag before turning to look at Harry, noticing the pained look in his face as he bends forward to work on the laces of his other skate.

“Did you need help?” She asks him.

“No,” Harry pauses to hiss in pain, “I’m fine,” he adds, but Y/N just rolls her eyes and scoots over on the bench till she’s nearly pressing right up against Harry’s side, leaning down in order to work on his laces.

Harry watches her nimble fingers untie and loosen the laces, noticing how her hair falls as she bends down further. A faint smell of roses hits him with the movement of her hair as she pushes it back away from her line of sight. Harry looks away, glancing around them to see if anyone’s watching them because from any other view it may look like Y/N is giving him-

“There you go,” Y/N says with a smile and sits up again. Harry looks at his skates to see them completely loosened and ready for him to slip off easily.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile.

After Harry has his trusty not-so-white vans on, they walk over to return his rentals and make their way out of the ice rink area of Bryant Park. Harry notices the shops around the park, the painted white frames and clean windows were rather pleasing to look at while the inside glows with soft yellow lights. He wonders what they sell, but notices Y/N hiding a yawn behind her hand and decides it’s probably best they just head home. Also, his ass really did hurt with each step he took.

“Would you like to get a hot cocoa before we walk home?” Harry suggests, pointing to the small shack that was open and looks like it serves hot drinks and a few treats maybe.

“I would love that,” Y/N answers with a bright smile.

Her heart can’t help but burst at the thought that Harry knows her so well already. Not even a month of knowing one another and he already is so much better than Mark ever was. He would never go skating with her or buy her a nice warm drink afterwards either. It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend anymore, Y/N finds herself reminding herself, which causes her heart to pitter patter in her chest again. This time thinking about how maybe Harry could maybe be her boyfriend, one day.

“Hi,” Y/N gives the small brunette at her front door a tight smile.

She’s almost thirty minutes later than Mark said she would be. But to be fair, the subway was later than usual on her way home so Y/N had only just gotten home ten minutes ago. She had texted Mark to let him know and relay the message to his assistant, but he didn’t answer, no surprise there. So, in hindsight it wasn’t the biggest deal that his pretty little assistant was late.

What the big deal was the way she just strolled into Y/N’s apartment and set the box of her things on the couch. Y/N is standing by her door still in disbelief, mouth hanging open and eyes wide at the girls behaviour. When she turns around and gives Y/N a funny look while pointing around at her Christmas decor.

“It looks like Mrs Claus threw up in here,” she says.

“Thanks,” Y/N mutters and walks over to where she stood by the couch. Mark’s assistant steps back, pulling out her phone and tapping away at the screen as she seems bored to be here. “I’ll go get Mark’s things,” Y/N says, but then just as she’s about to walk away her eyes catch something red near the top of the box of her things that Mark had packed up.

She pushes her favourite Eagles shirt out of the way and hooks one finger around the lacy red fabric. The Victoria’s Secret label sticks out of the barely there red thong that’s hanging off her index finger. Y/N doesn’t recognize the underwear, she thinks as her head begins to spin. How the fuck did a pair of woman's underwear get into this box of things Mark packed up? Why would he have a red thong at his apartment that wasn’t Y/N’s? What the actual fuck? Another round of questions are about to spew in Y/N’s head as her heart beats out of her chest but then suddenly Mark’s assistant is reaching for the lacy fabric and taking it out of Y/N’s grasp.

“Oh, those are mine. Must’ve slipped in by accident,” she stammers out the words. Y/N’s head is spinning, her heart is beating out of her chest, as she puts the pieces together.

“Really? A thong just slipped into the box?” Y/N urges, narrowing her eyes at the young brunette standing in her living room. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?” Y/N asks and raises her voice, the anger filling her whole body now.

“Ex boyfriend,” the brunette has the guts to utter out.

“Answer the damn question,” Y/N snaps back at her.

Her face is turning red, to match the stupid thong in her hands, “uh, it’s none of your business-”

“Just tell me!” Y/N shouts, feeling like she deserves some truth in this moment. Mark’s assistant visibly gulps, avoiding Y/N’s eyes and looks all around the room.

“Like, a few months,” she mutters under her breath, still not meeting Y/N’s burning gaze.

Her whole body is shaking with the anger coursing through her. She should have known. How could she be such an idiot? She thinks while shaking her head. Of course, Mark was cheating on her during the entirety of their relationship. They were only dating for four months, meaning that for at least half of it, he was busy screwing his fucking assistant - how unbelievably cliche of him, but also how unbelievably naive of her to not guess. Y/N brings a hand to her forehand and rubs at her temple as a headache begins.

“Can I just get Mark’s stuff and go-”

“Get. Out.” Y/N spits out the words, glaring at the brunette who has the audacity to be so nonchalant about being the other woman.

“What about his things?” Mark’s assistant all but winces out the words, her dark eyebrows pulling together.

“Tell Mark to eat a dick,” Y/N sneers, taking a step towards the girl which causes her to step back. She can’t deny the bit of joy she feels at the sight of fear in the girls eyes. “And get out of my apartment, now!” Y/N shouts at the woman.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, turning around and walking to the front door.

Y/N is hot on her heels, making sure to slam to door shut behind her. The moment she’s left to herself, her apartment falling silent around her, she feels the pain settle in. Mark cheated on her with his assistant that he then had the nerve to let come over to her apartment. The realization of how embarrassing this whole situation is hits her, along with the hurt too. Regardless if it was a mutual break up, being cheated on does not feel good. Y/N sniffles, bringing a hand to her mouth as she suddenly is holding back sobs. Tears fall down her cheeks while her brain runs wild thinking of how many times Mark could have fucked his assistant and then just waltzed into her apartment and then they-

Her thoughts are cut short as she’s bolting to her bathroom, throwing the door open and bending down in front of the toilet. She lifts the seat and empties her stomach into the bowl. After a moment she’s coughing, lifting her head out of the toilet and reaching for the lever to flush away any contents that were in her stomach. Y/N grabs the hand towel to her right and brings it to her mouth, wiping away the bit of drool at her lips.

Y/N can feel the vibration from her cell phone after a moment of sitting on the bathroom floor, zoned out on the shower and thinking about how stupid she could have been to trust Mark. She lets out a short sigh and reaches into her back pocket to find her buzzing phone. Her eyes roll on instinct of seeing Mark’s contact photo taking up her screen. A part of her wants to answer, to yell and to scream at him. But a bigger part of her feels sick to her stomach again and just tired, honestly. So, she ignores the call and opens her phone to her contacts and deletes Mark all together. She goes into her photos and does a quick sweep of any photos of them together. It was something she was going to do eventually anyways, but after the news of him being a cheating piece of shit she couldn’t waste another second before getting rid of anything involving Mark.

Mark is a fucking asshole. His precious little assistant came by to drop off my few things and one of her thongs was in the box, so she spilled the beans that she had been sleeping with Mark for months. Meaning that piece of absolute trash was cheating on me like the entire time we were together. Y/N types out the message to Sammy, making sure that he knows the drama first - but also just simply because he’s her best friend.

Sammy is typing back a response as Y/N stands up from her spot by the toilet, flushing it again due to her spitting a few times into the bowl, and then she quickly washes her hands and looks up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are red, her hairs a bit frizzy and out of place from the perfect curls she had earlier today, and her makeup is ruined. She decides to wash her face, drying it with a clean towel as her phone vibrates on the counter.

Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m going to kill him. Please tell me we have a murder plan, I know where we can hide the body. Did you want to talk about it? I can come over and bring a big bottle of tequila? Sammy sends each sentence as a separate text, adding a few choice emojis too. The knife is used many times. His enthusiasm makes Y/N chuckle but then she’s frowning again while walking out of the bathroom and to her bedroom.

Honestly, I just want to curl up in bed and cry it out some more while listening to some sad music. But I’ll keep you updated on any murder plans I think up. Y/N sends back her texts before throwing her phone down on her bed.

Letting out another sigh, Y/N strips out of her tight fitting pants and puts on a pair of grey sweatpants. Next, she takes off the collared button up shirt she had worn tucked into her pants today, hanging it back up in her closet to prevent it from getting wrinkled. Her eyes wander around her bedroom, a certain article of clothing was on her mind to put on and snuggle into bed with. Y/N smiles as she sees Harry’s black hoodie on the top of her laundry hamper. To be honest, it needed to be washed, but she needed the comfort of his oversized clothing more. So, she tugs it on, puts her hair into a messy topknot bun, and tugs down the hood before lifting the blanket and getting into bed.

Not even three songs into her ‘depressed? yeah, me too’ playlist of sad songs, there was a knock on Y/N’s front door. At first she thinks of ignoring whoever it is, but then her music is cut off as a phone call comes through. It’s Mark’s number, regardless that she just deleted his contact, she still knew his phone number. Y/N groans and gets out of bed. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she imagines Mark or that little assistant of his having the balls to come to her apartment again and demand for his few things he had left around here. Y/N narrows her eyes and unlocks her door, ready to glare at her sad excuse for an ex boyfriend - but her face instantly softens at the sight of Harry standing there.

“Nice jumper,” Harry comments. A smile on his lips as he takes in how Y/N looks in his clothing, days after he had lent it to her. But that smile vanishes when he notices the redness in her eyes and her pouting lips. “What’s wrong?” Harry asks, his voice full of worry as he fights back reaching for her and bringing her in for a hug.

Y/N sniffles, “um, I thought you were Mark, sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Oh, sorry, is he coming over?” Harry questions. Suppose it made more sense for her boyfriend to comfort her during a bad day, he thinks although it tears him up inside that it can’t be him.

“No, no, he’s in Arizona, or somewhere. I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs, her voice sounding brittle, like it’s about to crack at any second, as she tries to keep herself composed in front of Harry. “I don’t really care actually, we broke up,” she reveals, her gaze down at the floor. Harry’s wearing those dirty white vans again, she wonders if he wears anything else.

They broke up, holy shit don’t freak out Styles, keep it together, Harry’s thoughts are all jumbled up at the news of Y/N and her boyfriends break up, which she is clearly very upset over, judging by her appearance and how she’s sniffling every second - bringing the sleeve of his Columbia jumper to her face to wipe her nose. Harry frowns and adjusts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” Harry says softly, “break ups can really suck,” he adds - knowing from experience just how terrible break ups can leave a person feeling.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathes out and looks up at Harry now, “but he’s kind of a trash human so it’s for the best, honestly,” she tells him, letting out a breathy chuckle while shaking her head. She shouldn’t be crying so damn much over the guy, she thinks.

“Oh, well then, fuck that guy,” Harry agrees with a nod of his head.

Y/N lets out a genuine chuckle at his words. She brings a hand, that is covered by the cuff of Harry’s hoodie, to her forehead to swipe back any crazy wispy hairs that are in her face. “So, what brought you to knock on my door?” She asks, smiling as Harry realizes he had gotten distracted by her state and forgot why he knocked at all.

“Right,” Harry chuckles, “um, a few friends of mine are in this band, it’s nothing crazy they just play at the pub a few blocks away. And I was wondering if you weren’t busy if you wanted to come with, thought it could be fun. But if you’re not in the mood to leave your home I understand,” Harry explains to her.

“No, I would love to come with,” Y/N insists. She lets out another chuckle and motions to her current appearance. “Just not looking like this, and as long as you promise there will be liquor involved in this Saturday night out.”

“I’ll buy you as many drinks as you need,” Harry promises with a smile.

“Then count me in,” Y/N says, mirroring his big dimpled smile. “Just give me some time to get ready?”

“You’ve got plenty of time, we don’t have to leave for another hour and a half,” he tells her. “I’ll let you get to it,” he adds, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as he takes a step away from her doorway.

“Oh, I’ll wash the sweater and give it to you soon, by the way,” Y/N says, lifting both her arms before letting them fall to her sides. Harry just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.

“Keep it as long as you need, it’s no problem, honestly,” Harry tells her while flashing a grin her way, hoping that it makes her feel even a little bit better. And it does, his casual response to her wearing his hoodie and then those dimples - it had her stomach fluttering. She gives Harry a small timid smile, tucking her chin down slightly into the collar of the hoodie as she watches his walk backwards down the hall to his door. “I’ll come knocking again in a bit,” Harry adds before he’s out of her sight and she’s closing her front door shut once again.

Y/N absentmindedly brings her hand to her mouth, biting on her nails as she stares off at her Christmas tree - though the lights are blurry due to her zoning out. You can do this, Y/N thinks and begins to give herself a pep talk of getting out of the sad break up phase and going out with Harry and his friends. Oh my god, Y/N’s eyes widen at her thoughts, what am I going to wear?

Y/N felt overdressed.

After twenty minutes of ripping apart her closet and tearing items out of her dresser drawers, she was truly tempted to just keep on Harry’s hoodie, pair it with some good jeans and some red heeled boots and call it a day. But that would be weird, showing up to hang out and meet Harry’s friends while dressed in his clothing. She was sure they were already going to assume things with him just bringing her along. Y/N didn’t need them thinking they had sex before too.

The thought had made Y/N blush like crazy as she tore off the stupidly comfortable hoodie and grabbed a silky white top that plunged low in the neckline, tying off just at her belly button, and then had long flowy sleeves. Pairing this with her trusted pair of light blue jeans, and for accessories: some chunky gold hoop earrings and layered gold necklaces to fill up the amount of skin she was showing at her chest. To top it all off, she slipped into her go-to black Balenciaga boots and long brown jacket to keep warm. After heading into the bathroom quickly, she brushed her hair through again and restyled the curls, put on a touch of light makeup, and then made sure to stick her lip gloss in her small black purse just as Harry was knocking on her door again.

Harry was dressed in a grey t-shirt with a large yellow smiley face, brown trousers and a blue and cream plaid jacket that quite literally made chills wash over Y/N’s body when she saw the whole fit - but that jacket, it made her head spin with some rather inappropriate thoughts. She’s a fashion major, can’t blame her for thinking clothing can make someone even more attractive. But even then she should have gotten the vibe of this evening and changed into something more casual.

But she didn’t, so now as she’s walking into a dive bar a few blocks away from the apartment building, she feels very out of place. Everyone’s wearing t-shirts and jeans, it smelt like cheap beer and cigarettes, and was definitely not the place to wear a silky white top that cost about five-hundred-dollars.

“You alright?” Harry's voice is soft and closer, as he steps directly behind Y/N after walking into the bar.

He notices how she crossed her arms at her chest and seemed to tense up almost immediately after walking in. Y/N shivers at the feeling of Harry’s breath falling over her exposed neck, having pushed her hair to lay on her left shoulder while he stood over her right. Y/N is still looking around the bar, trying to put together who may be Harry’s group of friends in this crowded bar.

“Y/N?” Harry tries again, this time placing a delicate hand on the small of her back - barely touching her, that he’s not even sure she’s noticed through her thick jacket. But she does, and she feels dizzy at the sweet gesture.

“Yeah,” she sighs, blinking a few times before looking to her right shoulder at Harry. He’s lips are so close, she thinks while trying her best to keep her eyes on his eyes. “Just feeling a little overdressed,” Y/N admits with a tight smile.

Harry shakes his head, “you look fine, better than fine actually. You look amazing,” Harry watches as Y/N’s eyes flicker to his lips for just a split second. He smiles but clears his throat, finding that they’re both blushing at his comment now. “As any FIT student in New York City should, of course,” he adds on to try and make his compliment a little less obvious.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/N smiles.

When Harry saw Y/N for the second time that evening, it was like day and night from the hour before when she answered her door in his hoodie. She looked incredible, and was so out of his league. Dressed like she was going to a photoshoot, hair flowing down her back perfectly, and accessories that made him visibly gulp - he was a sucker for some gold jewelry on a girl, it was a weird weakness of his. And now, standing in the dim lighting of this dingy dive bar, she did look a little out of place, but in the best way possible, like she shined too bright to be in just a dark and depressing place.

“This way,” Harry says, leading the way to where he notices his friends are sitting at a table. They thankfully got his texts about him bringing Y/N with him and had two seats open for the both of them.

“Should we stop at the bar and get a drink?” Y/N asks. She’s honestly unsure how the service works at a place like this. To be honest, she hadn’t been in too many dive bars in her years.

Harry stops, looks behind him at her, and shakes his head. “We have a waitress that works basically every night my friends play, so she’ll come by and get our drinks for us,” he explains to Y/N. She nods, giving him a tight smile, and Harry can’t help but notice how she’s still got her arms crossed at her chest. Is she uncomfortable here? Maybe he can make some shit excuse after the first few songs and get her home.

Harry notices as he’s turned towards Y/N just how much attention is on her. He’s not surprised, seeing how he already realized how much she sticks out in a place like this, but he doesn’t quite enjoy seeing every male’s - and a few girls too - eyes in this place on the girl he’s brought with him. So, he makes the quick decision of holding out his hand for Y/N to take. She looks at Harry’s outstretched hand and feels her breath get caught in her throat. Playing it off, she smiles and reaches forward, watching as his much larger hand envelopes hers and tugs gently to get them moving again. Y/N’s stomach is already full of butterflies and her head is spinning at them holding hands for all of ninety seconds it takes to get to his table full of friends - she needs a drink, stat.

Harry lets go of Y/N’s hand as he approaches his friend's usual table and has to bring his arms up in order to hug Adam, who’s throwing himself into Harry at the sight of him. Harry huffs out a laugh, making a comment about how drunk Adam must be already, to which he responds by smacking Harry’s back a few times and laughing with him. Y/N can’t help it as the corners of her lips turn up into a small smile at the sight of Harry engulfed in a hug by a man bigger than him. As she’s watching their interaction, she notices how everyone else is watching her. Y/N’s smile falls right away and she finds herself crossing her arms at her chest again.

“Everyone,” Harry speaks a bit louder in order to get everyone's attention as he turns around and holds his arm out to Y/N, which she takes as her singal to step forward for an introduction and smiles timidly at the group of four others at the table. “This is Y/N, Y/N, this is everyone,” Harry announces, smiling at his friends - catching Mitch’s smug look in return.

“Hi,” Y/N says, her voice that soft and gentle tone that he had grown to like, quite a lot, actually.

“I’m Tom,” he’s the first to speak up, offering a hand to Y/N to shake, which she turns just a bit to her left in order to properly greet Harry’s friend. Tom’s got bleached hair that’s not styled and laying flat on his forehead, his roots are a dark brown that match the mustache and bit of bread he’s got. Y/N notices the few different necklaces around his neck while he’s wearing a simple outfit of a black long sleeve and black jeans.

“Jenny,” the woman sitting to Tom's left reaches over the table in order to shake Y/N’s hand. She’s also got bleached hair, and a dazzling smile too. Y/N notices the equally dazzling ring on her finger and she glances down at Tom’s hands to see a wedding band, assuming they are married due to them sitting so closely.

“Mitch,” a long haired young man speaks up just as Y/N and Jenny drop their hands. Y/N meets his gaze and blinks a few times, feeling slightly intimidated by him. Regardless of how he seems like the scrawniest at the table, his eyes just sort of bring Y/N to a stop, but she recovers swiftly and gives him a smile, returning the wave he gives her as it’s too far of a reach to shake hands. Mitch raises a brow at Harry, to which Harry is quick to return. Catching the interaction, Y/N imagines they are the closest of the group. Suppose he’s just a bit protective of his friend bringing a random girl around, Y/N thinks to herself before her attention is grasped by the last person sitting at the table.

“And I’m Adam, the only name you need to remember, obviously,” says the man who had hugged Harry upon their arrival. He’s smiling so widely there’s crinkles near his eyes, which make Y/N feel all warm inside as she stares into his big brown eyes. He’s got a full bread, like Mitch, and matching brown hair that looks like it may need a bit of a trim but he styles it well. Y/N likes his button up shirt that’s a dark navy with little white stars all around it, paired with some plain black jeans.

“It’s really lovely to meet you all,” Y/N says after shaking Adam’s hand, “thank you for letting me come crash your night,” she adds with another timid smile.

“Nonsense, it’s nothing special,” Jenny assures her, waving her hand too before wrapping it around her half full glass of what Y/N assumed was alcohol - or hoped, because she really didn’t want to be the only one drinking tonight.

“Ouch,” Adam scoffs jokingly, “guess your husbands best mates playing is nothing special then, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m hurt, Jenny,” Mitch nods, bringing his glass up to his lips to take a sip of the dark yellow foaming liquid in his tall glass - beer, okay, sweet, so we’re all drinking, good, Y/N thinks. She also notices that Mitch is the only one with an American accent. She wonders how this group all became friends, being from different parts of the world, where did they all connect?

Harry chuckles and shakes his head at his friends, looking to Y/N to find her smiling at his mates too. He places a hand on her elbow, causing her to look at him. He nods his head to the open seats on the other side of the table for them. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and begins to walk around the table, stepping behind Tom and Jenny’s chairs before stopping at the first one on Jenny’s right. Y/N catches Mitch’s stare, now ignoring the conversation at the table to instead watch Harry and her, but she’s quick to look away from his intense gaze and focus on taking her jacket off. Just as she tosses her jacket over the back of her chair, fixing her top in a discreet manner too, a red headed woman steps up in between her and Harry who is also slipping out of his jacket.

“Hey, Harry,” the woman greets him in a sultry tone. If Harry notices the obvious show she puts into her voice, he doesn’t act like it.

“Hey, Amy,” he says quickly, looking at his chair as he pulls it out and takes a seat.

“Running a bit behind your friends tonight, huh? What took you so long?” She asks. Seems she's rather observant of Harry’s presence, Y/N thinks, while she takes her seat and looks anywhere but to her right where the red head - fake red dye too, it was so obvious - back was mere inches away from her.

“I love your top, it’s so stylish,” Jenny comments, causing Y/N to look to her left at Jenny’s dazzling smile again.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, “this may not be the place to wear it, seems more like a casual band tee kind of place,” she notes, narrowing her eyes while looking around at the bar around them. Noticing now just how many neon signs there were in the dark space. The biggest was on the wall behind the small stage, which every table was facing. The bar was at the back of the bar and there were booths lining the wall closest to the door, then a couple of pool tables and gambling machines in the far right of the bar. Y/N had spent too much time in high maintenance bougie bars to find any of this remotely normal - but she didn’t hate it.

“Rubbish, you look hot, definitely got people in here questioning their wardrobe,” Jenny states, gaining Y/N’s attention again, “hell, next time I’m stepping it up to match this energy,” she adds, waving her hands at Y/N’s outfit. 

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “well thanks, but you look incredible already! There’s no need.”

“Y/N,” Harry interrupts the girls suddenly.

Y/N lets out a small breath before turning to face what she’s been ignoring. The flirtatious red head and Mitch’s strong stare. Y/N raises her eyebrows at Harry. She completely ignores how the waitress now stood facing both their chairs, but she did notice how her hand was resting on the back of Harry’s.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Harry asks her, lips turning up into a smile. He can’t help himself, he finds himself smiling so much around her he’s sure he has wrinkles already.

“Oh,” Y/N says, finally looking at the waitress now. Her dark makeup made her blue eyes pop, it was a bit smudged but Y/N assumes she’s too busy working to notice. The waitress, Amy - Y/N reads her name tag, pinned on her tight black v neck shirt that has the bar's name on it - is staring at her, clearly forcing a smile while waiting for Y/N’s answer. “I’ll have tequila and soda water, bring a few lime slices on the side too,” Y/N orders, knowing exactly how Upper East Side she sounds, “please,” she adds with a forced smile that she mirrors from Amy.

“Coming right up,” Amy nods before turning away, not without a lingering gaze on Harry though.

Her obvious fake customer voice was rather annoying, Y/N thinks as her eyes follow her walking back to the bar. She takes note of the crowd around the bar, many waving at the one bartender stationed behind the bar. He looks older and is struggling to keep up with the rush of people. When Y/N turns back around, to face the table again, she catches Harry eyes on her. She scrunches up her nose at him and he chuckles before their attention is taken away by Adam’s deep voice.

“So, Y/N, you're this bloke’s neighbour, huh?” He questions, nodding his head to Harry. Y/N smiles and nods, sitting back in her chair while folding her hands between her thighs.

“Yeah, we just met in passing and ended up becoming friends,” she states, catching Harry nodding in the corner of her eye while he rests an arm on the table and faces towards her as he leans slightly into Mitch. To which Mitch responds by pushing his shoulder gently, making Harry’s smile widen at how he manages to bother his friend so easily.

“Give us the tea. How shit of a neighbour is he?” Adam asks, causing everyone at the table to chuckle.

“Hey,” Harry playfully whines at his friends.

“He’s fine, great even,” Y/N tells them, earning another smile from Harry as he watches her.

“Surprising considering he’s a shit roommate,” Mitch comments after taking another long sip of his beer. Harry turns in his chair and glares at Mitch, earning a smirk from him in return.

“I am not,” Harry grumbles.

“When were you two roommates?” Y/N asks, finding herself bringing a hand up to adjust her necklaces. Anything to keep her nervous hands busy. Suppose making new friends wasn’t her biggest strength, it was a rather nerve wracking experience to be honest.

“We just room together when we travel for any work stuff,” Harry answers, meeting her eyes for only a brief second before he’s looking back at Mitch. “Mitch here just likes his beauty sleep, while I have a pretty set morning routine I like to stick to,” Harry explains, looking back at Y/N as he finishes talking.

“Yeah, that starts at like six in the morning like a crazy person,” Mitch huffs jokingly.

“Six is way too early,” Y/N agrees, nodding along with Mitch. “At least give the man till nine,” she adds.

“He’s just being dramatic,” Harry states. Mitch mumbles something under his breath before taking another sip of his beer. Sounded a bit like “say’s the drama queen himself” but Y/N isn’t sure. Regardless, the interaction makes her smile. Just as she’s about to make another comment, Amy returns with hers and Harry’s drinks. Setting his down first with a smile before turning to Y/N and placing the glass of tequila and a small dish of limes too.

“Thank you,” Y/N says. Doesn’t matter if she thought Amy had an attitude problem, Y/N had manners.

“Anything else for the table? Another refill for you boys before you head up on stage?” Amy asks, ignoring Y/N completely and instead turning her back on her and looking at Mitch and Adam. Y/N notices how she leans her body into Harry a bit, her arm resting on the back of his chair again. If Harry notices, he’s oblivious to her motives. It almost makes Y/N laugh at how Harry’s ignoring her. 

“Please,” Mitch nods, lifting his glass to finish off the rest of his beer. Y/N tries to hide her facial expression as she is impressed with how Mitch manages to gulp down the beer so fast, instead bringing her focus to her own drink - which she was looking forward to downing herself honestly.

She picks up a lime wedge and squeezes it over her glass, watching the juices squirt out and into her glass. After she stirs it with her straw, she brings it to her lips and gulps back nearly half of it. Y/N suddenly feels her phone buzzing in her jean pocket. She sits up slightly in order to slide it out of her pocket and looks at the screen. It’s Mark’s number again. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she declines the call and sets her phone screen down on the table before grabbing ahold of her drink again and having another sip. He sure has some nerve to continue to call numerous times, Y/N thinks as she zones out from whatever Harry and his friends were talking about.

“Y/N grew up in the city, actually,” Harry states. Y/N raises her eyebrows and looks around the table to see everyone’s looking at her now. She’s missed what they were talking about prior so she just spit balls it here and smiles.

“Um, yeah, born and raised,” she nods, “I noticed you all have quite a jumble of accents, where are you all from?” Y/N asks, looking towards Tom and Jenny as they begin to explain where they were separately from before meeting in London.

Harry watches Y/N while his friends speak, mostly because he already knows everything there is about their lives, but also because he likes watching Y/N. Taking in her small mannerisms like how she talks with her hands quite a lot, and how she rubs her ankles together under the table as she listens to Adam talk about his wife and kids back home. They all chat amongst themselves, making jokes and laughing too, for nearly thirty minute before Mitch and Adam are whisked away to the stage. Harry feels his chest bursting as he sits back and watches Y/N interact with his friends as if they are her own. He smiles when she looks his way, her cheeks howling as she sucks on the straw of her second drink - nearly finishing it while staring at him. Harry has to break the gaze as his thoughts run a different less innocent route, causing him to readjust how he’s sitting and clearing his throat just as the lead singer of the band introduces them.

“So, why aren’t you in the band?” Y/N asks as the beginning chords of their opening song play out. She’s leaning her elbow on the table, resting her head in the palm of her hand while turning her head to Harry - shutting out Jenny and Tom completely but they’re too busy watching the band to care.

“Bold of you to assume I have enough talent to be in a band,” Harry says with a smirk. Y/N rolls her eyes and reaches for her glass, bringing the straw between her lips and finishing off the tequila and soda water with three squeezed lime slices in it - Harry watched her prepare her drink both times, finding himself intrigued by her drink of choice.

“You are definitely talented enough,” Y/N says, “from the bit I’ve heard through the walls, you’re great with a guitar and I’m assuming I’m right considering that your job revolves around music.”

“Well, they already have a guitar player,” Harry notes, nodding his head towards Mitch who’s strumming away on his guitar. “And he’s one of the best in the business so if I did have any talent, he wipes me out without a question,” Harry insists.

Y/N is about to respond but then the band is starting to really get into the song. She turns her head, sitting up straight again, and watches the band perform. They’re really good, she thinks and starts to bob her head along to the song. Harry tries to not be obvious, but he stares at her for a few moments before facing the stage to watch his mates as well. He smiles as he watches her get into the music, nodding along with the bass line and tapping her foot to the drums. They’re performing one of Harry’s songs. He had written it a couple years back when he had finally settled into New York, hence the title ‘Ever Since New York’. He didn’t sell the song to any big artist, instead he kept it within his personal folder and when Mitch asked if his and Adam’s band could borrow it Harry said yes. It was one of the few personal songs he would let his friends borrow, others were too much of him to let someone else sing.

Y/N is seriously enjoying herself. The tequila has hit her, settling into her body with a constant buzz, and this band was so good. She’s shamelessly swaying her body in her chair and nodding her head back and forth with the beat. To be fair, so was everyone else at the table. Jenny matched her energy perfectly, even throwing an arm around her shoulders as the course of their third song picked up - Jenny knew the lyrics and sang along, causing the two of them to erupt into laughter afterwards. After Jenny turns her attention back to her husband, Y/N looks at Harry and notices him lightly singing along while bobbing his head too. She smiles and ends up watching him instead of the band for maybe a little too long. He turns his head and catches her stare, raising a brow but she just shakes her head and leans closer to him to ensure he can hear her before speaking.

“They’re really good,” she compliments, “like a lot better than some of the mainstream artists I’ve seen recently,” she adds on just as the band finishes up another song.

“Yeah, they are,” Harry nods in agreement, “but the bands really just a hobby for all of them since they are all involved within the industry already.”

“Oh, that’s sick though,” Y/N says, “not everyone’s hobby includes filling up a dive bar in New York City every weekend with people singing along to your songs,” she exclaims. She had looked around the room earlier during the last song to see it wasn’t just the bandmates' friends that knew the words to their songs. Majority of the people in the bar were singing too, clearly being regulars to their sets.

Amy arrives at their table again, setting down everyone's refills in a rush, thankfully being too busy to stop and flirt with Harry. Is that jealousy, Y/N? She questions herself in her head. She ignores her thoughts and brings her new drink to her lips, not even bothering with the lime slices this time as she’s feeling a bit drunk now and honestly could care less. As the band opens their next song with some strong drums and an incredible electric guitar melody, the crowd goes a bit crazy. Y/N furrows her brows and looks at the people at her table, Tom and Jenny are also hollering at the band while Harry is chuckling. He meets her eyes before echoing the crowd and cheering on his friends. Y/N’s eyes widen and she huffs out a laugh before she grabs her phone quickly and opens her Instagram.

Just in time, she opens her Instagram stories as the song picks up and the small crowd that had formed overtime at the front of the stage starts to dance around. Everyone is cheering and singing along, causing Y/N’s jaw to drop in pure amazement. She holds down the button to record and gets a quick ten second video of the band rocking out while the bar sings and goes nuts as the bass line played by Adam kicks in and their drummer flings his body around to play one of the most addicting beats they’ve played so far. Y/N shakes her head and swipes a filter on before tapping on the screen, turning to face Harry - who’s already watching her, of course.

“Does the band have an Instagram?” She asks. To which Harry just shrugs in response, because he really isn’t too sure - he’s not hugely into social media himself.

“They do!” Jenny says with excitement, Y/N turns in her seat and grins at Jenny as she spells out the bands Instagram handle. “I keep trying to get them to stay active on it but they barely do,” she states.

Y/N slips her drink that she holds in one hand and taps ‘post to story’ on her phone that in her other hand. “Well, they might get, like, a few notifications flood in since I tagged them in my story,” Y/N tells her.

“Oh yeah?” Jenny questions. “Are you big on Insta?”

“It’s kind of grown over the years, I just hit half a million last week actually,” Y/N states. Her words cause both Jenny and Tom’s jaws to drop. Suppose it’s quite a big number, Y/N thinks.

“That’s insane, oh my god,” Jenny says, “is social media like your job then?” She asks. Y/N notices how both Tom and Harry are more interested in hearing about her Instagram than the band’s next song, to be fair it is a slower tune, but still it shocks her a bit.

“Um, not really,” Y/N licks her lips, “I have a career at a fashion studio in the city, we style the city’s elite and some celebrities, do their personal shopping and all that. But the social media thing is really just a little add on, I guess,” Y/N explains, pausing a few times as she feels a bit nervous telling them about her following. Some people saw it as a clout thing, asking for shoutouts and tags so her followers would get their follower count up. While others thought it was childish and weird that she was kind of like an influencer in a way.

“Wow,” Harry says, his voice gets Y/N’s attention as she looks towards him now, “how didn’t I know this?” He questions with a chuckle.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “it’s really just like a hobby, barely even that.”

“Like how the band is for Mitch and Adam,” Harry nods.

Y/N smiles and nods with him, “exactly.”

“You’re definitely the coolest girl Harry knows, by the way,” Jenny states, bringing Y/N’s attention back to her left where she sat. Y/N laughs and brushes her hair back over her shoulders.

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N disagrees and shakes her head, reaching for her drink again to take a few sips.

“No, you definitely are,” Harry corrects her, having a sip of his own drink as well. Y/N puts down her glass and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back into her seat.

“I mean, if you say so,” she says in a joking tone. Jenny, Tom and Harry all chuckle, which makes Y/N laugh along with them. The band is talking to the crowd now, mentioning that their weekly gig will not be happening next week due to the holidays. Then they’re explaining something about their next and final song, thanking the crowd before the song starts up.

“This was their first song as a band,” Tom tells Y/N. She smiles and nods, appreciating the insight from him.

The song is catchy, still fitting the bands vibe but definitely isn’t as good as some of the other songs they had played already. Y/N decides to take a final snap of the band on stage on her Instagram story. Mitch’s head is down, his hair falling forward that she can barely tell that it’s him, while Adam is grinning at the crowd which makes Y/N smile as she swipes on a filter to lighten the picture some and types out ‘new fave band alert’ as her caption, finding a red siren gif quickly before posting it to her story. As the song comes to an end the bar erupts into a roar of cheers. Y/N brings her hands to her mouth and hollers along with the bar, grinning as she watches the four boys of the band come together and bow. As they bend down Harry whistles, having both his hands at his mouth, to show his support to his friends.

Y/N widens her eyes and turns quickly to look at Harry, surprised by the loud whistle that came from him. He matches her look, widening his eyes and playing dumb as he slowly lowers his hands from his face. Y/N laughs, slapping a hand on his arm and leaning back, immensely entertained by his actions. Harry laughs along with Y/N till they both calm down and shake their heads. Just as Y/N is about to say something her phone starts to buzz on the table from an incoming call. She looks down at the screen and sees it’s Mark - again.

“Ugh,” Y/N groans and hits decline, unlocking her phone to go to her phone app. “How the hell do you block a phone number?” She asks aloud to no one in particular.

“Is it Mark?” Harry questions in a low voice, leaning towards Y/N to keep his words between them. Y/N frowns but nods her head once. The tequila in her system starts to mess with her, her screen becoming fuzzy as she thinks about all the crap she learnt about Mark earlier today. And now he was ruining her fun out with Harry and his friends.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Y/N asks, turning to Jenny since she would know the location of the women's bathroom over Harry.

“Down the hall in the back corner over there,” she points in that direction and before anyone else can say something Y/N is on her feet with her phone in hand and heading to the bathroom.

Harry looks over his shoulder as he monitors Y/N’s move across the bar. He’s worried about her, obviously, but he’s also watching to make sure no douche bag makes a grab for her. Although he is sure that she could handle it herself. As he turns back to the table he sees both Tom and Jenny staring at him. Harry furrows his brows and brings his drink to his lips, having the final sip of his third drink tonight. Jenny just shakes her head and looks down at her phone, he’s pretty sure she’s looking up Y/N’s Instagram. Tom’s still staring at Harry though.

“What?” Harry finally asks, setting his glass down with the few other empty ones at the centre of the table.

“So,” Tom pauses, “what’s going on here?” He questions, being annoyingly vague.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, trying his hardest to not roll his eyes.

“Well you just show up with this bombshell of a woman, who is beyond anything you could’ve described her as by the way, and we’re all just supposed to forget she’s in a relationship?” Tom questions, tilting his head just slightly to the side as he stares down Harry.

“Firstly, I’m insulted you don’t think we could just be friends,” Harry says, he’s about to continue but Mitch and Adam join the table again. They get a round of ‘good job’ from everyone before Mitch is turning to Harry and furrowing his brows.

“What were you saying before?” He asks.

“That it is just possible for Y/N and I to be friends, but also not that it’s any of your guys business cause it’s not even mine, but her and her boyfriend broke up, like, recently,” Harry informs his friends, dragging his fingertip along the condensation of his empty glass in front of him. He feels silly, having to explain himself for simply bringing along a friend to hangout tonight. But he can’t deny it feels good to know that she is single now. Only to feel bad a second later as he knows that Y/N must be hurting, judging by her drowning herself in tequila drinks and getting upset over Mark calling her.

“Well, shit,” Mitch breathes out. Harry lifts his gaze to find his best mate with his usual smug look on his face. “What are you waiting for then, loverboy, make a move,” Mitch coaxes him.

“Did you not hear me when I said they broke up recently? As in maybe I should just let that settle for a while before I try and make any sort of move,” Harry says.

“Well if you don’t eventually and you let this one go, then you’re a bloody idiot,” Adam resorts, “Y/N is a prize, one evening knowing her and I understand your little crush, H,” he adds with a smile.

“Trust me,” Harry huffs out a breath and shakes his head a bit, “I’m well aware. But seriously guys, I’m just going to let it play out and not force anything. I’m happy to just be her friend, honestly,” he explains. Everyone nods, seeming to understand where Harry is at now with Y/N. Perfect timing, Amy shows up with refills for everyone to get the attention of the group off Harry.

“So, Harry,” Amy says after setting down everyone glasses, turning her body away from Jenny and the empty chair for Y/N to completely face him - her boobs practically in his face. He gives her a polite smile, leaning back in his chair in order to get some distance from her. “Who’s this new girl you brought with you? A cousin or something?” She asks, her body seeming to lean even further towards him as she speaks.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to let Amy know her ridiculous assumptions were wrong. When he hears Y/N’s voice from behind where Amy stood. “Classy,” she mutters under her breath.

Amy rolls her eyes rather dramatically before she turns away from Harry and looks at Y/N as she’s pulling out her chair and returning to her seat. “What did you say?” Amy asks, her voice rather snarky in Y/N’s opinion.

“I said, wow you’re hair colour, it’s like, so classy, I love it,” Y/N resorts, putting on a smile just as fake as her words.

Amy’s lips part, her eyes narrowing at Y/N’s bored stare. Whatever bitchy response she has lined up for Y/N is cut short as Amy’s name is being yelled by the bartender. Her gaze falls behind Y/N, looking at who had called for her, before she meets Y/N’s eyes again. She glares again, huffs out a short breath, and then is nearly stomping away from the table like a child who didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted to play with - or rather the Ken doll. Y/N’s lips turn up slightly into a smug smile as a feeling of pride flushes over her.

“Yup, it’s official,” Jenny says, bringing Y/N back to reality as she looks away to her left. Jenny is grinning as she brings an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into her side. “You’re one hundred percent the coolest girl Harry knows,” she states, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“You handled Amy like a pro,” Adam notes, then jutting his chin towards Harry, “H is always too nice to let her know how annoying she’s being.”

Y/N smiles and looks at Harry in the corner of her eye, noticing the slight tint of pink upon his cheeks. She flips her hair over her shoulder and shrugs, “I grew up dealing with the snobby Upper East Side kids, Amy is harmless, believe me,” Y/N ensures the group before grabbing for her drink and sucking back a few good gulps.

The group around the table begins to talk about the performance, compliments and praises to Mitch and Adam all around of course. Even a few strangers come up to give them a pat on the back and ask for a picture. They’re like royalty in this dingy little bar.

Y/N is enjoying sitting back and simply being around people, letting herself push away any thoughts of Mark. She had blocked his number while she waited in line for the washroom, then responded to Sammy’s million texts asking where she was and with who - when she told him she was with Harry he just replied with ‘#TeamHarry for the win’, which she rolled her eyes at but ended up smiling down at her phone and texting him a thumbs up back.

When Y/N finished with her business in the rather dirty washroom - the sink barely even worked, it was not ideal - and she saw Amy at the table beside Harry again, Y/N let her jealousy fly. Then when Amy started leaning so far into Harry that her boobs nearly touched his chest, Y/N just couldn’t help it. It was like her vision turned red suddenly, her chest swelling up as she tried to bite down on her tongue. But she couldn’t, she was too annoyed by Amy’s less than classy actions towards her customer.

“Hey,” Harry’s low voice snaps Y/N out of her own world. She blinks and focuses on him, feeling herself melt at the sight of his smile. “Are you okay?” He asks, more than likely referring to her quick departure to the bathroom after Mark called.

“Yeah,” she assures him with a smile and a nod. “I blocked his number, I don’t want to hear his excuses. I could really care less,” she explains to Harry. He nods in response and is about to say something else, about how Mark is a real idiot for whatever he did to hurt her. But Y/N sits up, places a hand on his arm that was resting on the table between then, and gives him another smile. “But enough about him, seriously, I’m feeling a little drunk and having way too much fun here with you to be bothered anymore,” Y/N tells him.

“Alright,” Harry smiles, peering at Y/N as his heart beats wildly in his chest. He’s pretty sure his skin’s tingling from where her hand rests. But it doesn’t last long before she moves, reaching for her glass - that she then raises into the air.

“I would like to make a toast,” Y/N announces to the table, gaining everyone’s attention and smiles, “to Mitch and Adam’s absolutely amazing performance, new friends, and to having a lovely holiday season,” Y/N beams as Harry and his friends cheer in agreement and everyone lifts their glasses into the air.

The group ends up buying shots after, then another round of drinks, and then more shots. Y/N is laughing so much her stomach hurts. She hasn’t been this happy while enjoying others' company in far too long, outside of work of course. Harry makes another joke, teasing Adam, but Adam dishes it back right away. Y/N finds herself letting her hand slip to Harry’s thigh as she throws her head back with laughter at Adam’s absurd comment. Everyone else is too focused on the banter to notice, but Harry does of course. He’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels her delicate fingers spread over his thigh. He gulps, unsure if he wants to break whatever drunken trance that Y/N may be in. Does she realize that she’s put her hand on his thigh? He wonders. But his thoughts are quickly answered as she caresses her thumb along his pants before lifting her hand slowly off of him altogether.

Y/N’s leaning on her elbow again, her chin propped up in the palm of her hand as she looks at Harry. He’s so hot, her drunk self thinks as she watches his Adam's apple bob up and down for a second time since she had placed her hand on his thigh. It happened by accident to be honest, but she wasn’t sorry about it. God, she was just itching to touch Harry. His thigh, his arm, maybe rub gentle circles on the back of his neck as he talked amongst his friends, but she wanted to touch his lips more than anything. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty pink lips as he replies to whatever whoever said to him.

Harry catches Y/N’s glossy eyes staring at him in the corner of his eye. He rolls his lips into his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He likes how she can’t seem to keep her eyes off of him, because he does the same thing maybe a little too often. Harry turns his head and meets her gaze, giving her a smirk as she playfully narrows her eyes at him. Her cheeks are rosy from the amount of liquor she’s consumed, while her eyes truly are a bit glossed over from her being more than tipsy. She’s so hot, he thinks, as his eyes shamelessly roam over her appearance. Even hours later at this shitty bar and she still looks breathtaking. Harry’s gaze lingers a little too long on her chest, admiring the way the top fit her breasts; was she wearing a bra? Oh how he wishes he could find out.

Y/N adjusts her position in her chair, letting her left arm fall into her lap while she lays her right arm beside Harry’s. She is liking this game they seem to be playing with their eyes. She sits up straight, knowingly sticking out her chest just a bit as she watches Harry’s eyes fall to her breasts. But she keeps it classy, of course, unlike some people. Y/N lets out a breathy sigh as she looks at Harry’s hand mere inches away from her right hand. Those rings, she thinks, they could do some real damage. Her thighs clench involuntarily, her mind falling into a fog as she imagines them leaving red marks on her bare bottom or how cool they would feel against her throat.

“I really like your rings, have I told you that before?” Y/N’s voice is hoarse, but she doesn’t care as her pinky reaches over to touch the large gold ‘S’ that rests on his pinky. The metal is cool to her touch, just as she imagines. Feeling brave - thanks to her good friend, tequila - she lifts her hand slightly in order to comfortably drag her fingertip over the ‘S’ shape a couple times.

“No, you-” Harry clears his throat, feeling it become dry at the sight of her doe eyes staring at his fingers. His mind goes somewhere dirty, thinking of somewhere else his fingers could go. Tangled in her hair, wrapped around her throat, inside of her. Harry licks his lips before he speaks again, “you haven’t, but thank you.”

“Which is your favourite?” Y/N questions, her finger still lazily tracing the ring on his pinky finger.

“Quite like the inicals,” Harry answers, smirking as she glances up to peer at him through her lashes. She mirrors his smug look easily.

“A very narcissistic answer,” Y/N hums, teasing him. Harry playfully narrows his eyes at her, which she returns but ends up giggling after a moment as he sticks out his tongue at her. These inappropriate thoughts have got to just slide away for a moment, Y/N thinks with a deep breath.

“We’re going to head out,” Tom announces to the table suddenly, helping Jenny out of her chair. Jenny’s beautiful dazzling smile is on her husband as he helps her into her coat. They’ve both had quite a bit to drink too and Harry notes how Jenny latches onto Tom’s side after they’re in their coats.

“I’m still shocked you two both came out tonight,” Harry says.

“We paid big bucks for this babysitter, so they better keep it together for at least another four hours,” Tom exclaims with a wink. Jenny gasps and smacks her husband on the chest as she realizes what Tom is insinuating.

“Don’t go acting like you last longer than ten minutes, bud,” Mitch taunts jokingly to his friend. Everyone laughs as Tom glares at Mitch across the table. Y/N covers her mouth with her hands, finally bringing her finger away from where it laid on Harry’s ‘S’ ring, in order to cover her chuckles.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Y/N,” Jenny gushes, letting go of Tom in order to put her arms around Y/N and hugging her tightly.

Y/N smiles into her bleached hair, squeezing her back just as tightly, “you too, Jenny,” she says.

“Don’t let H keep hiding you away now,” she says, pointing a stern finger at the two of them. Harry laughs and shakes his head at his friend.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jenny,” he tells her.

Then they’re all saying goodbye to the couple as they walk out of the half empty bar. Y/N glances around the place, noticing how it feels less scary now. Maybe it was the tequila that helped, or how comfortable she felt around Harry and his friends. A yawn suddenly makes it’s way past Y/N’s lips, she brings the back of her hand to cover it but ends up squinting her eyes closed as her whole body feels drained. She meets Harry eyes after the yawning stops, he shows her a small soft smile that makes her return it right back.

“Ready to go home?” He asks. She contemplates it for a moment, because she truthfully doesn’t want the night to end. But she decides to not fight it and nods to Harry.

Harry does practically the same thing as Tom just had. He announces his and Y/N’s departure, helps her into her coat, and lets her say her goodbyes as Adam opens his arms up for a big warm hug. Mitch only nods, waving to them both before Harry leads the way out of the bar. The cold night air blasts Y/N’s hair back, the sharp wind taking her by surprise as she blinks back tears from the cold. She puts both her hands into her coat pockets and zips it up all the way, snuggling into the warmth it will provide her on their walk home.

“I feel like Mitch doesn’t like me much,” Y/N admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence between her and Harry.

“What?” Harry shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together. “No, that’s just how he is. He’s quiet and looks all moody. Give him some time, he’ll warm up, promise.”

“I think he’s just protective of you,” Y/N says, looking up at Harry after they cross the road, “thinks I’m a threat or something.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head again,“well, it’s definitely not like that with Mitch and I, plus he’s seeing someone. Her name’s Sarah, she plays drums on a lot of tracks we write.”

“If you say so,” Y/N sighs. She looks around at the sights before them. A few other mildly drunk people wander the streets, and she notices a few homeless people too, that tore Y/N’s heart apart, as they were bunkering down in the alleyways. Harry keeps pace with Y/N the whole walk home, letting her control the speed they walked and what they talked about. She would jump from subject to subject the entire time, but Harry thought it was kinda cute that she was so drunk she didn’t even realize how quickly she changed the topic.

And all too soon, they’re in the elevator in their apartment building. Harry presses the number six button and joins Y/N on the back wall. They both lean into the railing, comfortable silence falling between them once again. But it was obviously their thoughts were anything but silent. The elevator doors open on their floor, and Harry lets her walk out first as always.

“Well this is me,” Y/N says dramatically as she approaches her apartment door. Harry chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly and letting his eyes fall to the floor for a second before meeting Y/N’s stare again. “I really did have a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells him.

“I’m glad, I did too,” he agrees.

Y/N wants to kiss him. She really really really does. But they’re both a little drunk, and she literally just broke up with Mark yesterday - or maybe technically two days ago now since it’s past midnight. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be that girl. Plus she wanted to really get to know Harry and take this slow and see where it went. That didn’t stop her gaze from falling to his pretty pink lips though. Harry’s thoughts are running laps too. He wants to kiss her. But he knows she’s more than likely still hasn’t recovered fully emotionally from her break up Mark, hell not even ten hours ago she was crying because of her shitty ex boyfriend. Didn’t mean he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her though, especially when her gaze falls to his lips.

Just as quickly as they seemed to fall into some dream like state as thoughts of kissing each other float around them, they snap back to reality. Y/N blinks a few times and takes a step back, bumping into her front door. Harry clears his throat and steps back as well, towards his own front door.

“Polar Express,” Y/N says suddenly, earning a look of confusion from Harry. “We’re watching the Polar Express tomorrow, and you’re going to play me something on that guitar of yours.”

Harry lets out a chuckle and gives Y/N a smirk, “yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“You will,” she singsongs as she focuses on unlocking her door. It takes a few extra tries to get the key in but once she does she unlocks it and opens the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry smiles.

“Goodnight, H,” Y/N says softly, smiling as well, as she leans against her door to look back at him. Harry’s smile deepens at her using his nickname. She must’ve picked it up from his friends using it earlier during their time at the bar.

She gives him one last look over, knowing very well that she’s going to dream about him in that cream and blue plaid jacket - and maybe only wearing that jacket - before she shuts her door and presses her back against it as it closes. Today was a lot. But she’s beyond grateful that Harry invited her out, introducing her to his wildly unique group of wonderful friends, and letting her get a little bit drunk too. Her chest flares up as she remembers their close moment at the bar, her touching his rings, placing her hand on his thigh-

“Oh god,” Y/N all but moans out as her thoughts go right back to the place they were at before.

She shakes her head and heads to her bedroom. Harry wouldn’t be able to hear a vibration from the other side of the wall, would he? Y/N shrugs and opens her bedside table drawer to grab her vibrator, knowing just how much she needed it tonight as she imagined Harry’s hand between her thighs. Fuck, she’s so screwed, she thinks, biting her lip as she realizes, she really really really likes Harry.

>> part four <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

#harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #1dff #cstsyl #omg this took me so long i know but i really really like it and hope u guys to do!!

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x Oc)

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2  ~ Its okay to want something to end and also be sad that its ending. 

With infidelity, its never black and white. 

There’s different kinds of infidelity and you can’t ever say which is worse. That depends entirely on the people involved and the values they hold dear. What may be a small indiscretion to someone, may well be an unforgivable act of betrayal to someone else.

 And that’s fine. People aren’t one dimensional. We can’t all have the same perspective. 

So infidelity is also never one dimensional. 

Sometimes its a one night stand. Something done and forgotten. Discarded from the mind like the used condom in the motel room floor. 

Sometimes its a dear friend who betrays you, your best friend who apparently always had a thing for your husband and felt perfectly fine making a move on him. That one stings . Because you lose two people. Two very important people at the same time. 

Sometimes its a coworker, someone who stays by their side majority of the day. Who offers a sympathetic ear when your husband wants to relax.

Sometimes men just fall out of love and are too much of a coward to say it out loud, opting to cheat on you instead. 

Sometimes, they are jealous, of your career, of your kid, or your friends. Too lazy to win your affection they go find satisfaction in some one else’s bed. 

Sometimes it never even gets physical. Sometimes its just someone catfishing your husband or sending him nudes.

And sometimes, its an emotional connection. They actually fall deeply in love with someone else and I think, for most women, that would be the one that would sting the most. 

With Taehyung, it had been a night of drinking. He had had one drink too many, had tumbled into bed with some trainee a decade younger and had broken our marriage vows. 

Not really a very thought out or planned mistake. He hadn’t cheated with the intent to cheat. He had just been too drunk to know better. 

So, why did I leave him?

Because it hadn’t been about the cheating. 

It had been the drinking. 

When we first met, Taehyung couldn’t hold his liquor. Not that it mattered because he didn’t like it all that much. Didn’t mind sipping juice when other’s nursed beers. 

But as he grew older, as he grew more successful, he had started accepting drinks from producers and directors and fellow actors... Because, it was rude not to and Kim Taehyung was nothing if not the personification of politeness. 

 His tolerance hadn’t increased but his drinking had and that was a bad combo. 

:”You need to stop doing this Tae. You can’t just come home black out drunk, every time you have an after party.... You’re going to hurt yourself or god forbid someone else... some day and I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to wreck your entire life over a stupid drink....” 

It was a speech I had made way too many times. The words recycled and reframed, and rearranged to try and give them more  weight , to help him realize how  serious  the issue was. To help him understand that what he was risking, it wasn’t just his reputation. It was his entire career, his  life  if he somehow got behind a wheel someday. 

And Taehyung, who had won a bunch of Daesangs for his acting always convinced me that he understood what I was trying to say. That he understood the magnitude of my words and would heed them the next time. 

So really, what people didn’t understand was that....

That evening, when he stood in front of me and said that he slept with another woman because he got drunk out of his mind, it wasn’t the sleeping with the girl that had bothered me. ( at least not that much. it hurt of course but it wasn’t that strong. it stemmed more from a place of “why didn’t you just ask someone to drive you home, you idiot.”.. rather than, “ how dare you sleep with another woman?”  ) 

It was the got drunk out of my mind thing. 

That was what I ended my marriage over. 

That was it. 

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

The details were hashed out easily and I didn’t particularly protest or change anything. Taehyung suggested an equal division of assets and I quickly disagreed. I wasn’t exactly poor. I worked as the Head of Marketing in a successful conglomerate. I had no use for excessive amounts of money. After some debate we agreed on setting up a trust fund for Hoshi with the money. He could use it after he turned twenty five. 

And then came the next part. 

Compensation for physical / Mental Damage. 

I felt like i was spiraling. 

“None On my side. None.” Taehyung said quickly and I swallowed. 

Ms Lee gave me an encouraging smile. 

“You can be honest Mrs Kim. We’re trying to go for a clean break between the two of you without any resentment carrying over. So its best to be honest. If you feel you need recompense for any emotional distress or abuse Mr. Kim may have put you through, you’re free to tell me. I’ll make sure it goes into record.” 

And this was why I hated the idea of getting divorce. 

That entire dialogue had sounded so...so... terrible. So accusatory and ugly. It wasn’t at all the way I felt about my husband. 

It was just hurt. Plain and simple hurt because he didn’t take me seriously. Because he didn’t think my words were worth listening to. It was hurt laced with fear because he was putting himself in danger with his reckless actions and I wanted him to stop. That’s all it was. 

It was hurt. 

Taehyung had hurt me but it wasn’t emotional distress. It sure as hell hadn’t been abuse.

“None for me either.” I said firmly, honest . 

I glanced at my husband, trying to tell him that I wasn’t just saying it. That it was true. I really didn’t want him to pay me money for what had happened. 

But, Taehyung wouldn’t meet my eyes.  

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

Taehyung signed over full custody of Hoshi with a smile. 

“I trust you. “ He said quietly, penning his initials carefully on the document. 

I nodded, feeling a little like drowning.

 We had a very comfortable way of doing things as far as our son was concerned. Taehyung got Hoshi anytime he had time off and also on weekends. 

With a very shifting schedule it was hard for Taehyung to pin down exact dates so we had long decided we would make things easier for each other. He would call me a day or so in advance and i would drop him off at Taehyung’s penthouse or the company. Special days like birthdays were always celebrated in a neutral place with both parties attending. 

Hoshi loved it because it was a pleasant surprise for him, when his dad swooped in out of nowhere and took him off to amusement parks or arcades or swimming. He loved Taehyung . 

So the visitation rights were easy to sketch out. 

It was nothing new but to have it all put down on paper and initialed and notarized....it just felt invasive. Some judge somewhere would read all about how my marriage had crumbled to ashes and would pass judgment on me and that just felt odd. 

 Like airing your dirty laundry. Like letting strangers into your bedroom. 

And the worst part was this :   I felt myself getting upset , anytime Ms. Lee gave the slightest negative connotation to Taehyung’s actions or responsibilities. Anytime she tried to imply that he couldn’t be neglectful as  a father, I wanted to jump right up and defend him. To tell her that he was a better father than the ones who lived 24/7 with their kids and didn’t know a damn thing about them. 

That even as my husband,  he had been so good to me. Had treated me like his best friend, his confidante, his lover. Had never shied away from showing me how much he loved me. Had been the best husband in the whole entire world. 

And I hated myself for it. 

What was wrong with me? 

Why was  I still so fiercely protective of him, I wondered. I hated the idea of him being criticized by anyone for any of it.

 And it made feel like such a hypocrite because if he was so amazing, why on earth were we here??

Why on earth were we getting a divorce if Kim Taehyung was husband and father of the fucking Year?!! 

Was I making a mistake? Had I made a mistake? 

It confused me. These feelings that just refused to go away. I would never act on them because therein lay the path to misery but why were they still there? 

 This desperate clawing urge to make sure he came out of this whole debacle as a good guy. To make sure no one would brand him as a cheater . Because they would. When the divorce went public, they would dig things up and they would know. 

 I didn’t know how I’d gotten to this point where , I could somehow forget everything that was wrong, simply because I wanted to focus on what felt wrong....

Technically I should be happy. 

Taehyung did something unpardonable ( for me, at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now I felt like I could forgive him for it but he hadn’t asked for forgiveness. What he’d asked for was a divorce.  ) and I left him. We were separated . And now finally we were getting a divorce. 

Divorce meant we could finally get out of this no man’s land of uncertainty where we had hung for two whole years and move on, from each other and finally give a label to where we stood. Exes. We were exes. We were done. It was over. 

Hadn’t I just yelled about him about how I liked labels? 

And yet, 

This entire divorce  felt so wrong. So unnecessary.

And in a moment of clarity, as I watched Ms Lee read he whole thing over again for our benefit, I realized why it felt wrong. 

It felt wrong because Taehyung was the one who wanted it. 

Why did Taehyung want it? What had made him want to end it, officially?

Was he seeing someone else? Was he considering seeing someone else? Did he want to start enjoying the single lifestyle again? 

Did he finally take a good long look at our marriage and found nothing worth salvaging anymore? 

My head ached. 

 I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over. And yet my heart broke at the thought of it. 

Ms Lee finally gathered up all the documents and gave us a wide smile.

“I wish every client I had was this reasonable. You two are a delight .” she shook her head. “ Should we get a drink to celebrate a day well spent?” 

I opened my mouth to accept when Taehyung said, “  Sure, but it would have to be a juice for me. I don’t drink.” 

I felt my heart take a swoop, nosediving to my knees. 

I stared at him, stunned speechless. 

“Haven’t had a drink in two years Mia. I’m done with that shit.” He said softly.

I swallowed. 

“I didn’t know that.” I felt miserable all of a sudden, the weight of what we had just done pressing down on my heart like a 200 pound stone, 

His gaze held mine.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.” 

We stood staring at each other in silence and Ms. Lee cleared her throat. 

“Uh... I just got a text from my next client. Maybe raincheck on the drinks? “

I nodded , watching her leave. Thank you i wanted to say, but for what?

 For ending my marriage of eight fucking years? 

And how ridiculous that very thought was. ..... She hadn’t ended our marriage,   I had. 

“I have the next two days off.” He said casually. 

“You can pick Hoshi up from my mom’s place. I need to head back to the office.” I muttered, choking a little on tears that had sprung out of nowhere. . 

“Hey.” his fingers closed over my wrists tugging me gently and I let myself get pulled into his arms. I hugged him, feeling my tears soak through the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I choked out. 

He stroked the back of my head gently.

“Me too. “ He pressed a kiss to my hair and it only made me feel worse.  

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

Author’s Note : Tae is 35, OC is 32 

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