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tsvkishma · 3 years

Text

you wanna kiss me so bad, huh?

series: my hero academia / boku no hero academia

pairings: katsuki bakugo x reader

length: 5k words

warnings: swearing, mentions of making out (w/ a minor), breach of privacy??

tags: secret relationship, enemies to lovers, high school AU, reader-insert

summary: the mutual agreement between you and your bf to keep your relationship on the DL is about to be ruined when he makes the stupid mistake to leave his phone on the table for the whole class to see

author’s note: i’m so sorry! i really tried to make it gender neutral, but it was female leaning... i apologize! i’m still pretty new to writing dis homie so please be lenient when it comes to character accuracy lol. i also apologize for the messy, unstructured writing. also thank u to bae @izvkos for proofreading!

Just as you were getting ready to doze off, the school bell rang, startling you and making you jerk up from your comfortable position on the desk with your head in your arms. Some of your classmates got up to stretch, since it was the break time between classes. Unfortunately, it had only been the end of third period and you had a long school day to go through. You let out a low groan of disappointment. I guess I’ll have to keep myself awake just a little bit longer.

To be honest, you didn’t mean to stay up all night... it was just that you couldn’t help binge-watching your favorite show last night. You convinced yourself that you were only going to watch one episode before you went to sleep... then one lead to two... then three... and then before you knew it, the birds started chirping. But, hey! It wasn’t your fault that it was so addicting!

“Oi.”

You look up to see Bakugo peering over you with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face, “Tch, you don’t look so good today. Didn’t get enough sleep? How are you gonna be a pro hero with those bad habits of yours?”

You scoffed, “Oh, fuck off. Sorry I don’t go to sleep at 8 every night… grandpa.”

“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of me all you want, but who’s gonna be laughing when you fail your exams next week. I see you dozing off in class, you act like Aizawa-sensei doesn’t even notice,” Bakugo grunts.

You coo, “Awe, is blasty-boy watching me during class? I didn’t know you were this deeply in love with me! So cute.”

His face went red for a moment before his usual angry expression returned, “I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU DAMMIT! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR STUPID CRAP LIKE THAT!”

“Y/n! Stop teasing Bakugo like that! You know he can’t handle it...” Mina chimed in, joining the fun.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T HANDLE IT?! ” screamed Bakugo.

“Quiet down back there.,” threatened Cementoss as he entered the class to prepare his next lesson.

You and Mina were just laughing at your classmate screaming his head off, it was always an amusing sight if anything. Even though Bakugo denies having a crush on you, it wasn’t true. And you knew that. He had a fat crush on you, but it was more than that! He was your boyfriend.

You guys had kept your relationship on the down-low for about a month now, your relationship only became official about a week ago, but you guys had been going on dates prior. Bakugo wanted to keep your relationship a secret, you know, to protect his ego or whatever since there has always been a rivalry between the two of you and everyone in Class 1-A was painfully aware of it. He was too proud to let anyone know that he fell for someone he once vouched as his enemy.

There was always constant bickering between the two of you. Whether it be something minute or something that you would argue over for a couple of days. It’s not like the arguments were unintentional because they were started just to spite the other. Bickering would start about each other’s fighting technique in battle or even accusing the other of stealing their food from the shared fridge in the dorms.

The rest of your class was so sick and tired of the ongoing feud so one day, they set out a plan (led by Kaminari and Kirishima) to lock you two in a room just to sort out your differences. They set a date where they would trick you two into thinking that there was a class activity that everyone had to attend, but it would just be you two to show up and you would smash the beef between you two, and BOOM! Problem solved.

Just as the day came for the plan, something was weirdly off about you two. The morning of, you two both came into class at the same time and it was dead silent between you two. No bickering, no petty comments, and no evil stares. As more and more people were arriving, they would immediately notice the weird tension in the air. It was strangely quiet, not just because you and Bakugo were silent, but because everyone else was too. The thought of you guys not constantly at each other’s necks that morning sort of put off the rest of the class. It felt weird to talk over the dead silence when they were so used to your guys’ voices as ambiance while they were in conversation.

As the day went on, nothing changed and you guys were still silent and ignoring each other. Obviously, everyone was suspicious about what exactly happened between you two to make you ignore one another. There was no way that you guys were angry at each other because when you were, both of you made it clear by arguing and yelling loudly.

However, before anyone had the chance to ask why you guys were so quiet, Bakugo decided to approach you for the first time between class periods. At this point, the class was back to normal and having regular conversations with one another during break time, but all of their eyes were on you two, and their voices hushed to pay attention to the tense interaction shared between you two.

“Oi. Let’s talk,” said Bakugo bluntly.

You looked up at his crimson red eyes for a second before looking away as if his presence wasn’t even there. At this point, you didn’t know what to say to him, yet. This fired up Bakugo because within a second he started yelling again.

“HEY DUMBASS! YOU DON’T GET TO IGNORE ME LIKE THAT!” he screamed.

You turned to meet his glare annoyed, “Oh, shut the fuck up. I don’t owe you shit. Leave me alone.”

He tested, “The fuck did you say to me, idiot?!”

“Fuck off, dipshit, all you ever wanna do is yell! And might I add- you do it loudly. Are you such a fucking grandpa that you can’t even hear yourself speak? Can you ever jjust shut. the. fuck. UP!” you yelled back.

The arguing continued and the rest of Class 1-A continued with their previous conversations after seeing you guys back to normal. The tension between you guys soon left their minds as they continued with the rest of their day. Unbeknownst to them, the night before you two were arguing like usual in the kitchen area of the dorms before Bakugo made his first move on you.

The argument started with you getting angry at Bakugo for making a mess on the counter after spilling some of his water. It was late at night and no one else was around and you two happened to wake up around the same time to get a drink of water.

“You idiot, clean up your fucking mess. You spilled it all over the counter,” you said as you gestured to the spilled water.

“Tch. I didn’t spill shit. If it bothers you so much, why don’t you go clean it up yourself?” he groaned as he leaned against the counter.

Appalled, you grabbed the roll of paper towels and threw it at his head. He was caught off guard as the roll of paper hit his forehead. It fell and rolled out onto the floor. Now, he was truly annoyed.

“Fuck was that for, huh?!” he said staring at you, smoke practically coming out of his ears.

You laughed, “Just giving you a hand since it seemed like you were too fucking lazy to grab the paper towels yourself. Seems like the grandpa’s getting too old to do stuff for himself, boohoo.”

He growled, rage evident in his face. You laughed to yourself looking away from his face. The next thing you knew, he grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the fridge behind you. You were pinned by his big, rough hands and he was closer to your face than usual, yet still enraged.

You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but it was useless, “Let go of me, idiot! You need to learn how to take a fucking joke.”

He didn’t respond, but he kept his eyes on your face. You tried moving away, but now his grip on your shoulders tightened, making your breath hitch.

“What the fuck is your problem? You want me to say sorry or something? Did the paper towel knock the fucking sense out of you? Let me go!” you argued.

“What happened to all your fucking hero training? Can’t get out of my grip, huh? How pathetic,” he growled in a low tone.

You felt his eyes piercing into your own and it was making you a little bit uncomfortable. He’s never been physical with you, even with the constant bickering between you guys. This was a side of him you’ve never seen.

You started, “Look, did I hurt your feelings or something? Did I hit you really hard on the head? There’s no point in holding me against the fridge. Plus, the handle is kind of hurting my back-”

“Shut up,” he stated plainly.

He looked away, avoiding eye contact with you. Okay.... suspicious much...

You tried moving once again, then he pulled you up from the fridge only to slam you back against it, but this time harder.

“Why can’t you just fucking stay still?!” he started yelling.

“Ow! Because you’re being a fucking weirdo! There’s something fucking wrong with you, it’s starting to creep me out! What the fuck are your intentions anyway, huh?!” you argued back.

His calmness fading, he yelled back, “SHUT THE FUCK UP! ALL YOU EVER DO IS GET ON MY FUCKING NERVES LIKE YOU KNOW EVERY FUCKING THING IN THE WORLD!”

His face was inching closer and closer to your face with each word pouring from his mouth. You smirked at this.

You laughed, teasing, “Oh, you wanna kiss me so bad, huh?”

He immediately froze after hearing that sentence spill from your mouth and avoided eye contact yet again. Oddly enough, he returned to his calmer self... If you didn’t know any better, it was obvious that that sentence held some truth with him.

“Look just-”

Before you could finish your sentence, his lips crashed onto yours. Your eyes shot wide open at the shock of the situation. Bakugo Katsuki fucking kissed you... Bakugo Katsuki. The Bakugo Katsuki who always argued with you. The Bakugo Katsuki who always got on your nerves. THAT Bakugo Katsuki.

Taking you away from your thoughts, he pulled away from the kiss. He examined your face for your reaction, but you were frozen in place with your eyes shot wide open. You didn’t know what to do, as if you were a computer and you were going through some code that you weren’t programmed to handle. He looked away and scoffed at himself, mumbling.

“Of course, she didn’t fucking like that, idiot...” he mumbled.

His grip on you loosened and his hands were brought to his side and he couldn’t bear to look at you in the face again. Breaking from your frozen state, you focused your eyes on him. He pulled his face away from your point of view and was scratching his neck in embarrassment and you could notice the light blush spread on his cheeks. You felt a little tug on your heart that you’ve never felt before when looking at him. At that moment, he was just so freaking cute.

Mentally telling yourself that you’re gonna regret this later, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him closer to you again. Your lips locked with his and you closed your eyes to bask in the moment. Only this time, Bakugo’s eyes were shot wide open, but only for a second. Relief soon spread across his face and his eyes rested on your waist, pulling you closer.

Both of you guys wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever, the rivalry between you two completely non-existent. As all good things must come to an end, you pulled away from him and your eyes made contact for a second before you both looked away, blushing. Realization soon hit you and you didn’t know what to do next.

“I-”

“Uh-”

You guys stuttered at the same time, making eye contact for a second before looking away. The atmosphere between the two of you was confusing. Before you could think of another thing to say, he spoke up first.

“Good night,” he said.

He walked away swiftly and turned the corner to the hallway towards his dorm. You stood for a few seconds not knowing what to think. You released the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in and proceeded to walk towards your dorm room. Leaving the kitchen a bit of a mess for the night.

The next day it was Kaminari who was blamed for leaving the paper towel on the floor and some spilled water on the counter. Poor boy.

Now, the relationship that you had with ‘blasty-boy’ would probably seem complicated and confusing in the eyes of others, but you two were pretty content with where you guys were at. There was an unspoken agreement that you would keep your relationship under wraps. You knew how Bakugo always tried to upkeep his ego of being the best. You’ve always assumed that he didn’t want anyone to know he had a soft spot for you. And you didn’t necessarily mind not sharing your relationship out in the open, anyway. I mean, you guys only just made your relationship official, but it was a little hard to keep your mouth shut when you desperately wanted to gush about him with the other girls of Class 1-A.

Although, you guys have managed to maintain the rivalry between you guys in front of the others. It’s not like you guys were faking it, though. Only now, you guys saw it as fun, meaningless banter and meant nothing by it. The few times that you’ve got to spend with Bakugo alone were completely different from when you would be with him as a group.

On one of your more recent dates, he invited you to watch a movie in his dorm room and he was so adamant about keeping you close to him throughout the movie. At one point in the night, you tried to get up to use the restroom real quick and his arm around your waist pulled you back down, making you fall onto his lap and you stared up at him. He ignored you and stared at the laptop screen.

“Uh... I need to go pee. Let me go, please?” you smiled up at him.

He gave you a glance and reverted his stare to the screen again, “No.”

“What do you mean no? I drank so much water because the popcorn was too salty... come on. You want me to pee on you or something?” you joked.

He laughed, “So, what if I do?”

You sat up and his gaze finally met yours and his signature smirk was plastered on his face.

You grabbed one of his pillows and hit him with it, “Ew, you’re so fucking gross! I’m going.”

He laughed and finally allowed you to leave, but rest assured, he snuggled up with you when you came back.

Right now, you were hanging with the rest of your class in the common room. On Fridays, you guys all agreed to a movie night after a long week of classes. You were sitting with the rest of the girls, settled between Momo and Mina. The movie hasn’t started yet since everyone was starting to get comfortable and settled in. A few of your classmates were grabbing popcorn and other snacks in the kitchen while the rest of you guys were just chatting. Somehow, the conversation between the girls evolved into talking about relationships.

“Oh my god! There was this really cute guy that I accidentally bumped into at lunch and apparently he’s a third-year! I hope I bump into him again, he was seriously cute,” gushed Mina.

“That’s so cute, Mina! I wish I had, like, ANY romantic interactions. My life’s so boring...” groaned Ochaco.

“Same,” said Hagakure.

The rest of the girls sort of nodded in agreement, but you just sat there sipping your juice pouch loudly.

“Y/n? You’re awfully quiet,” teased Tsu as she nudged you with her elbow.

“Well, I mean-”

“What are you ladies talking about over here, huh?” said Denki as he and the other boys inched closer to the girls to join their conversation.

Momo spoke up, “Seems like Y/n over here has a crush!”

You covered your face in embarrassment, “No I do not! It’s... uh... look we’re just... talking?”

Kirishima teased, “Awe so who’s the lucky individual?”

“Yeah, I wanna know who captured our Y/n’s heart,” laughed Sero.

“It’s no one...” you said after trying to recover after digging yourself in a deeper hole.

“Hey, Bakugo. How do you feel about Y/n’s new crush, huh? Maybe your love for her isn’t reciprocated after all...” started Kaminari before Bakugo stood from his seat on the couch and grabbed his shirt to intimidate him.

He growled, “I don’t have a crush on Y/n. How many times do I have to tell you idiots that?!”

“You’re just jealous that Y/n’s significant other is probably hotter than you!” laughed Mina.

Visibly annoyed at the situation, Bakugo walks away rolling his eyes and mumbling, “Tch. Can’t believe I go to school with a bunch of idiots...”

“Awe, can’t take it anymore? Your love for me is so strong that it pains you to listen to this conversation, huh, Bakugo?” you teased.

“Shut up. I’m going to the bathroom,” he said plainly.

The rest of your classmates on the couch got a laugh in before the topic of your potential significant other died down into smaller topics within different people. Those who were in the kitchen preparing the snacks for everyone finally came back and everyone was finding their seats around the TV and your boyfriend had yet to come back.

You pulled out your phone to text him and right as you did, Iida turned off the lights.

“Yo, Y/n. Turn off your phone it’s too bright and the movie’s about to start,” nudged Mina.

You apologized, “Sorry. I’ll turn it off in a minute I just need to text someone.”

You pulled up your boyfriend’s text log and typed in a message for him:

yo blasty boy why arent u back from the bathroom the movies starting

...also i saved u a seat next to me so we can cuddle (lowkey of course hehe)

After sending those two messages, you put away your phone in your pocket. Everyone was concentrated on the movie and you set your attention on the TV screen until...

PING PING

A phone on the coffee table lit up brightly while making two loud notification pings. Everyone lost focus on the movie and looked over at the phone on the table. No doubt that it was your grandpa of a boyfriend’s phone pinging. Before you could do something, Kirishima grabbed it.

“Who the hell didn’t turn off their ringer? And why is it so damn loud..” laughed Sero.

Kirishima’s eyes scanned his phone for a quick second before his eyes widened and he covered his mouth in surprise.

“Holy shit! Bakugo has a girlfriend!” yelled Kirishima.

You couldn’t help but cover your face in your blanket... Bakugo was about to be so mad at you. Your secret would be out and honestly, you were glad, but you know that your boyfriend didn’t want anyone to find out anytime soon. At least, not like this.

Everyone turned to Kirishima, suddenly losing interest in the movie playing in front of them.

“Oh my god, you’re joking!” squealed Yaoyorozu.

Ojiro claimed, “There’s no way that Bakugo has a girlfriend. Not that hothead.”

“Bro, I’m not joking! And guess what... it’s someone in this room!” exclaimed Kirishima.

Everyone starts looking around the class, silently accusing their classmates of being the culprit.

“Look what they said: ‘also i saved u a seat next to me so we can cuddle‘! Someone better start speaking upppppp!” said Kaminari teasingly as he got the phone from the red-haired boy.

“So, who is it?” grinned Ochako.

Sero peeked at the phone in Kirishima’s hands, “There’s no name, it just says ‘dumbass’. That’s so like Bakugo.”

You sighed in relief. You didn’t know that Bakugo didn’t have your contact as your actual name.

“G-guys! I don’t think Kacchan would want us to go through his phone...” protested Midoriya.

“Midoriya is right! This is not respectful behavior, we should respect our classmate’s privacy,” Iida said matter-of-factly.

Kaminari replied, “Aw, come on you guys are no fun! It’s harmless, anyway! If it really is someone in our class, we were bound to find out! It’s inevitable!”

You grab the phone from him and said, “Wow, Kaminari, I didn’t know you had the vocabulary capacity for the word inevitable! Now, let me see this...”

Lo and behold, your messages were shown on the screen under the name ‘dumbass’. You tried to analyze the situation and how you could use this small sliver of anonymity to your advantage. You concluded that just trying to play off the situation would be the best thing to do-

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s that as Bakugo’s wallpaper?” said Mina as she slowly grabbed the phone from your hands.

Right then, a horror scene played out right in front of your eyes. As everyone was standing crowded around the phone (whether they agreed with peering through your boyfriend’s phone or not), they were looking at the brightly-lit device in the pink girl’s hands and she deleted the notifications to show his very-telling wallpaper… you could say there was a slight miscalculation in your plan as you failed to notice earlier that his wallpaper was the two of you... making out.

You couldn’t bear to look at what was on his phone as everyone let out their gasps. It was too embarrassing, everyone seeing such an intimate moment on your boyfriend’s phone. Bakugo had taken that picture on a whim one night when you two were having one of your movie nights. When he did that, you were shocked because there was no way that Bakugo took pictures of himself ever. Honestly, you were shocked to see that he knew how to take a selfie. Nonetheless, you peeked through your fingers at the phone in Mina’s hand just for a bit.

To your surprise, he set the wallpaper to LIVE MODE. Live mode...... Everyone was watching you guys make out in action like it was a fucking movie.

That motherfucker...

The silence of realization was then disrupted as the girls let out their squeals and the whole class was causing a commotion while the boys high-fived each other as if they won a competition or something. Everyone was up and moving, a strong contrast from them mere minutes ago when they were lounging around on the couch and floor. Sero was shaking your shoulders as you covered your face in your hands. Your face was heating up from all the embarrassment and you couldn’t bear to look at any of your classmates after what they just witnessed.

You didn’t know what to think. Half of you were completely embarrassed that your friends just saw you in an embarrassing scenario and half of you were angry at Bakugo because this was all his fault! Who the fuck puts such an intimate moment as their wallpaper?! Why not something cute? And of course, it had to be a live photo…

You finally peered through your hands again to see the scene in front of you. Mina was laughing so hard on the couch that she was on the verge of tears.

“I CAN’T BREATHE! NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS WOULD I EVER EXPECT THIS SHIT!” she cried.

Most of the boys were still jumping up and down like some monkeys due to the sheer excitement and energy in the room. Uraraka walked up to you and smiled widely while placing her hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Wow! Who would’ve thought that you and Bakugo were a thing! I honestly didn’t see that coming… sorry that we all had to find out that way. I was a little too absorbed in the excitement to consider how you felt,” said the round-faced girl.

With your face still red, you said, “Don’t worry about it… it was bound to happen soon enough, right? Although, now I’m a little embarrassed, but I guess I’m kind of relieved that I don’t have to put much effort into hiding our relationship anymore.”

Yaoyorozu chimed in, “Honestly, this is more entertaining than the movie we were just watching!”

You laughed along with the other girls who were nearby. On the other side of the room, the boys were making a train throughout the room and singing.

“Uh, y/n,” interrupted Asui, “Look.”

The man-of-the-hour walked in the room with his hands in his pockets with his usual grumpy expression. He stopped to examine the room and stared quietly at the energetic group of boys.

He scoffed, “What are you nerds doing? Why aren’t you guys watching the fucking movie, huh?”

He looked around the room until his eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, which caught his attention. Your mind was racing a mile a minute trying to think of an excuse. Your gaze averted to the ground, but you could hear his footsteps heading your way.

“Since when did your socks suddenly get so interesting that you can’t look me in the eyes?” teased Bakugo.

He brought his hand up to your chin and lifted your face to meet his gaze. His playful smirk instantly dropped once he saw your expression. Your eyes were borderline teary and seemed lost, like a sad puppy.

He whispered so that only you could hear, “Baby… what’s up?”

You wanted to give in to his touch at that very moment and run into his arms, but you resisted because you knew that it would be too selfish given how you just broke your guys’ agreement. You didn’t deserve to be in his embrace right now, he was seconds away from finding out that your guys’ secret came out accidentally all because you sent a random text. You pulled your face away from his grip and moved away from him.

“W-wait, what-” he started.

“HEYYYYYYYYYYY, BAKUBRO!” said Kaminari and he wrapped an arm around him (much to Bakugo’s dismay), “How come you didn’t tell your buddies that you had a soft side to you, huh?”

Bakugo grunted, “What the fuck are you going on about?”

Kirishima chimed, “You know, you shouldn’t leave your phone out in the open like that… it makes you vulnerable!”

Still confused he said, ”Did worms get in your brains? We’ve been only one day off from school and you start lacking common sense?”

To his surprise, you walk up with his phone in your hand while keeping eye contact, unlike earlier.

“Sherlock, I thought you would’ve connected the dots by now,” you sighed, with a tinge of sadness behind it, “Your wallpaper… really?”

You hold up the phone up to his face and his reaction was almost humorous to you. His eyes widened and his face was painted with a light tint of pink.

For the first time in your life, you witnessed your boyfriend at a loss for words. The rest of your class watched the whole interaction and some restrained laughs were let out and they were all back to square one, laughing like maniacs. You were about to join in and laugh with them when you realized again what the situation at hand was. You were scared of how Bakugo would react since this would be the first rift in your relationship and you didn’t want to have a genuine argument with him, especially with how angry he could get. Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands grasp yours and you look up to see your boyfriend smiling at you.

“I-”

Before you could say a single word, he hauls you on his shoulder, and you yelp in surprise. You don’t know how you ended up in this position, but now you’re dangling off of him and now you’re staring at the ground. (Also, his face was dangerously close to your ass, but you didn’t mention it.) He starts walking away and away from the commotion towards his dorm room. Before you can protest, he leans his head on your body causing you to freeze up. You could feel his warmth from his body heat against your shirt.

“You know… I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you,” he says quietly.

Your brain took time to process that sentence… was Bakugo actually not mad? Most importantly, who knew such sweet words could come out of his mouth? You couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief and you relaxed a bit.

Wanting to tease him, you said, “Sorry, you were too quiet. Could you repeat that again?”

He groaned, “I said… I’m not mad at you, I could never be.”

You giggled, “I know. I heard you the first time, but I thought my ears were deceiving me… Katsuki Bakugo is saying something nice for once? Whatttt…”

He shook you a little, “Forget it. You didn’t hear anything.”

Raising yourself a little, you patted your boyfriend on the head, “Nope. Remembering that phrase forever and ever.”

“Whatever.”

You smiled, “Whatever!”

2K notes · View notes

etoileholland · 3 years

Text

Yours truly

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: a letter box shaped bag prompts Tom to tell you just how much you mean to him

Warnings: none; it’s just my usual fluff :)

A/N: surprise, I’m back! It’s been a very long time since I’ve written something, and although the break was nice, I missed you all :( and since I don’t really know who to tag, I’m going to tag my old taglist + mutuals, but if you want to be added to my taglist please let me know!

While you and Tom were out spending the day going window shopping, you passed by the front window of a Kate Spade boutique, and a blur of red made you turn your head to see what was in the window. What you saw was so beautiful, it made you stop suddenly in your tracks.

Tom, who was holding your hand, was not expecting you to stop so suddenly. “Babe, you’re going to pull my arm out of its socket.” He joked, and was expecting you to reply, but instead you were silent. When he turned to see what you were looking at, your hand was pressed to the glass of the display, eyes wide and lips agape. A smile erupted on his lips as he watched how mesmerized you were by a handbag, and how awestruck you were by it.

It was as if you were a kid in a candy store, or maybe it was more like love at first sight. In fact, the way you were looking at the bag is the same way that he looks at you—full of love and adoration.

He knew he had to surprise you with it.

As he stood there with you, your gaze still fixed to the bag, he waited a minute longer until he decided to speak up. “It is a beautiful bag, huh?” At first you didn’t respond, nor did you show any sign of even hearing what he had said. “C’mon,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze and pulling you towards the entrance. “Let’s go take a look at it.”

That sentence snapped you out of your trance, and without skipping a beat, you stopped walking and stood in place. “Oh no, no, no, let’s not do that.” Your voice got a little louder with every no. “I don’t want to be disappointed by how expensive it is. It must cost at least £200 pounds.”

“I doubt-”

“It’s a Kate Spade,” you interrupted, “her bags are ridiculously expensive.” As you spoke, you continuously shook your head no. “I know it’s far too expensive, and I don’t want to be disappointed when I see the exorbitant price tag.” Your eyes became fixed to the pavement, and your eyebrows furrowed downwards, as well as your lips turning into a small frown. “Can we please leave?”

It pained Tom to see you so sad, especially since he could easily buy you the bag—hell, he could buy you a hundred of them, or even purchase everything in the store for you. It was no problem to him, but he knew that him buying you things made you feel uncomfortable, so he decided not to press the issue any further.

“Okay love, let’s go.” He took a step forward, but instead of following him, you stood there still, staring at the bag. A few seconds passed before you slowly took a step forward, and then walked with Tom away from the window display.

“Maybe one day I’ll see it in a consignment shop, and then I’ll be able to afford it.” You uttered under your breath, but it was just loud enough for Tom to hear it.

A week had passed, and Tom didn’t once stop thinking about the bag, and how much you pined over it. Just the night before, he had a dream where he was in his Spider-Man costume, and had broken into the store to get it for you. Of course, he wasn’t going to do that, but it was all he could think about, even in his dreams.

He knew he had to get it for you, because even though you tried to say you were okay without it, he knew it would make you beyond happy if you had it. Yet, he was aware that he couldn’t get it when you were with him, which seemed to be most of the time. He cherished spending time with you, but he just needed some time alone so he could get it.

While he was thinking of a plan, the opportunity arose on its own, no planning on his end needed.

“Your mum wants me to go shopping with her tomorrow to buy a gift for Paddy.” You announced as you walked into the room, and leaned against the door frame.

“Wait, she wants you to go with her, and not me?” He asked, hoping to feign some sadness, even though he was secretly relieved. He loved his mum, but shopping with her could easily become extremely stressful.

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, “I thought the same thing, but apparently she wants me to go with her. She said something about me being a ‘more attentive shopper’.” You said with air quotes, and a slight frown on your face.

Tom, who was sprawled out in his bed, positioned himself so that he could tilt his head up to see you. “Well, that’s odd. I can see she’s playing favourites.” He remarked, trying to not sound too relieved.

“That’s okay with you, right?” You questioned, eyes wide.

“Of course love, just don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I won’t, but let me just text her back and tell her that’s okay.” You bounded out of the room quickly, and when you left, he let out a small squeal. His plan was falling into place, and it seemed that the universe was on his side. He took a minute to think about his schedule tomorrow, and luckily he had the day off.

He was bound and determined to get the bag for you.

—

Almost immediately after you left the house to go shopping with his mum, Tom bolted out of the house and ran out to his car, quickly and messily trying to unlock the car door. When he situated himself inside the car, he pulled out of the driveway to head towards the Kate Spade boutique.

The way he was driving was downright terrible, and borderline reckless, but all he could think about was getting the bag for you. On his drive there, the thought of accidentally running into you crossed his mind, but he shook the thought away.

About twenty minutes later, he pulled into the parking garage, stopped the car, got out and locked it. He hurried up towards the entrance of the store, and rushed inside, tunnel vision consuming him. As he looked around frantically looking for the bag, he couldn’t seem to see it, but before he could have a chance to inquire about it, a store clerk came up to him.

“May I help you with something?” The assistant inquired, snapping Tom out of his tunnel vision.

“Actually, yes. My girlfriend saw a small purse in the window display last week, and I was wondering if you still happen to have it.”

“By any chance, did it look like a little post box with a letter inside?” She asked with a slightly sad grin, one that caught Tom’s attention.

“Um yes, precisely. Do you still have any?”

Judging by the assistant’s look, he already knew the answer—he was too late. “I’m so sorry, but there was only one left, and that kind woman at the register is about to purchase the last one.” She stated with sad eyes, and it took everything in Tom to not be equally as upset. “They sold so quickly that we had to request a few more shipments, but there were no more left to order yesterday.”

He looked over to see who the woman who was purchasing the last handbag was, and the woman looked back at him with apologetic eyes. It was a woman about the age of 80, and was a very spiffy dresser at that.

“Love, I am so sorry that I’m buying the last one, but I too have had my eye on it for quite a while.” She spoke just loud enough for Tom to hear her from the other side of the boutique, but just quiet enough for him to walk over closer to where she stood at the register. “Do you mind me asking why you wanted this bag? By the way you ran in here, it seemed like it was clearly an important thing to buy.”

“It was.” Tom answered back as he took a second to think about what he wanted to say. He felt so dejected that there weren’t any words to describe his situation, even though it was a very easy situation to understand. “Last week, I was window shopping with my girlfriend, and she saw this bag and immediately stopped in her tracks. She spent 10 minutes staring at it, or at least it felt that long.” He walked over closer to where the register was and leaned one arm against the counter. “She was so awe struck by it, but at the time she couldn’t afford it, and she refused to allow me to buy it.”

“That’s the mark of a remarkable young woman, you know. Most women would expect her man to buy her what she wanted, but the fact that she didn’t want to buy it really says a lot.” She carefully placed her hand on top of Tom’s in a reassuring way. “Cherish her forever.”

Tom’s vision became a bit blurry as he blinked away tears that were trying to form in his eyes. “I will, I promise.” He lightly sighed, allowing himself to take a second to think. “Although it’s a pretty new relationship, so I hope it works out.” His watery eyes cleared up, and he took one more audible breath. Just then, the kind woman gently placed her hand on top of his, and gave it a gentle pat. When he looked up at her, she was giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Trust me, love. I’ve been around long enough to know if a relationship will work out or not. I thought the same when I met my now husband when he and I were both 17. I was so worried thinking that it may not work out, but he had the faith to know that it would. And he was right, he usually always is, but I try not to tell him too much so that it doesn’t go to his head.” She laughed lightly, and Tom did as well. “All it takes is love, patience and perseverance. That’s the key to a lasting relationship.”

The assistant was moved by the woman’s touching story, and wiped away a tear off her cheek. The woman looked at her and smiled tearfully too. “How new is your relationship?” She asked.

“It’s felt like ages, but in a good way.” Tom answered with a smile forming on his lips. “But in all actuality, it’s been almost three months, but we met a month prior to dating.”

“So that is pretty new.” The kind old woman answered. “What do you love most about her?”

Love, Tom thought. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t think about all the things he loves about you, but to be honest, he hasn’t told you he loved you yet. He hasn’t wanted to rush anything, even though he’s sure he loves you. The idea of telling you that has scared him, because it always seems that when he tells someone he loves them, they disappear from his life forever, just like his previous relationships before. “Well, she’s so patient with me, and beyond understanding of my hectic life.”

“Go on,” the kind woman prodded, already knowing that he hadn’t told you he loved you yet, but wanting to help coax the feelings out of him.

“I have a stressful job, to put it lightly, and not once has she made me feel bad about having to reschedule a date. She’s also ridiculously intelligent, caring, and beautiful, and I wouldn’t know what to do without her, nor would I want to think about that.”

“Well, I can tell that you love her,” she answered, “and I hope I’m not prodding too much, but may I ask why you haven’t told her yet?”

Tom took a second to compose himself. “I’ve wanted to, but I didn’t want to rush anything. I don’t know if this is going to sound dumb, but I wanted to write her a letter telling her how I feel, and I was going to stick the letter into the letter box, which is super dumb I know but-”

“That’s not.” The woman choked out, dabbing at her eyes where they were starting to well up with tears. “That’s one of the sweetest things I have ever heard, and I am beyond happy to know that the younger generations are still just as sweet and chivalrous as the past ones were. At the time when I was dating my husband, he also wrote me a letter telling me he loved me as he went to fight in the war.” She took out a handkerchief from her coat pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I wasn’t sure if I would ever see him again, but luckily he came home safely.”

“I’m happy he did.” Tom responded with tears in his eyes as well. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“You’re welcome.” She wiped her eyes once more, and motioned for the assistant, who was in the back of the store, to come over to where she and Tom were standing. “Letters are a great way to tell someone something, and I’m glad they haven’t died off with the younger generation.” The assistant came over to the woman, and looked to see what she may need.

“Can I please return this bag back to the store so that this young man can buy it instead?” The assistant hesitantly reached her arm out to take the bag, wanting to make sure that the woman really wanted to do so.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take it from you.” Tom responded hesitantly, his voice upturning at the end of the sentence.

The woman waved her hand in front of Tom. “I’m positively sure. This will be the item that will make you cherish your relationship forever, and will even be your lucky charm.”

As the assistant returned the bag back to the store, Tom quickly reached out his arms and gave the woman a quick hug. “Thank you so much, I can’t thank you enough.” When he pulled away, she placed her hand on his forearm.

“You’re very welcome, and I wish you two a long and beautiful relationship.”

“Thank you again.” He responded quickly, and then a wave of realisation washed over him. “I just realised that I didn’t get your name, how awful of me.”

“Beth.” She answered, “and I already know your name, Mr. Tom Holland.” A look of confusion washed over Tom’s face, and before he could ask how she knew his name, she answered, “My granddaughter is a huge fan. I’ve seen all the Spider-Man movies with her in the cinema, and I must admit that you are a wonderful actor.”

Tom grinned his million dollar smile, and began to blush. “Why thank you Beth, I truly appreciate everything.”

The assistant rung up the bag for Tom, and after he paid for it, she wrapped it up nicely and put it in a colourful bag.

“Good luck with everything Mr. Holland, and when you and this girl get married, you better invite me to your wedding.” She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. “I mean it, you know. I better be there for the wedding.” As she said this, she wrote her name, address and phone number on it. “Promise me I’ll be the first person you call after you pop the question to her?” She slid the paper over to Tom and watched as he read it once before folding it nicely and placing it carefully in his wallet. “I promise I will Beth, I swear on it.”

—

Tom knew what he had to do, or rather, what to say. After his conversation with Beth in the boutique, it seemed as though the words were spilling out of his mouth, and the letter was practically writing itself in his mind. All he had to do now was actually buy something to write on.

He thought about buying some cute stationary to match the aesthetic of the bag, but he knew that the words were so loud in his head, that by the time that it would take for him to buy stationary, the words would be gone.

Jogging back out to his car, he began to rummage through the glove compartment in hopes of finding something, anything to write on.

The only acceptable piece of paper was actually a flyer from a chippy, and the only pencil he could find was a tiny one that’s used to keep the score in golf, but it’ll have to do. The words suddenly came to him, and he scribbled them down so he wouldn’t forget.

A fair amount of time must have passed, because it was now beginning to rain outside. The pattering of the light raindrops that were hitting the roof of the car made the small space feel more comfortable, and added the perfect amount of ambiance to continue writing. In fact, tear stains had made their way onto the paper, which surprised Tom, considering that he didn't even know he was crying. The emotions must’ve got the best of him, but he didn’t mind one bit.

At least now he had a physical reminder of how much he loved you.

Wiping the tears off his face, he took a sigh of relief. Writing that somehow felt liberating, and made him almost want to jump out of the car and start dancing in the rain. He felt on top of the world.

As he drove away from his parking spot, about a block and a half later, he looked up to see a stationary store and parked the car in front of the store, and ran inside.

—

Half an hour later, he made it back home, bag and letter in hand. You were still out with his mum, which to be honest wasn’t shocking. I bet she’ll get home well past midnight, knowing my mum, he thought.

Harry, Tuwaine and Harrison went out to go golfing, so Tom had the whole house to himself. He plopped down on the sofa and pulled out the new stationary and pens that he bought specifically for this.

While at the shop, he found a set of letters that looked almost identical to the letter keychain on the purse, and picked out a black pen. He carefully wrote the new letter with penmanship so precise, it made him feel as though he was back in primary school.

About twenty minutes had passed, but the letter was finally done. He had embellished the envelope by adding a couple hearts in different colours, and then carefully slipping the letter inside. Lastly, he wrote your name in cursive on the envelope, and then placed the completed letter inside the bag, right where the letter compartment was.

After neatly reassembling the bag back in its original wrapping, Tom placed the bag inside his closet and thought of a good time to give it to you. The best time, he thought, was to give it to you next week, right before he was set to fly back to Atlanta to finish filming.

—

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” You whined, which was slightly muffled by Tom’s pillows. Tom was sprawled out on the floor, stuffing different articles of clothing into his luggage.

“I wish I didn’t either darling.” He sighed, “but I promise I’ll be home before you know it.” He answered, knowing that he wasn’t entirely telling the truth. He would be gone for at least 3 months, which was going to feel like an eternity. The thought alone made him almost start crying, but he was trying to stay strong for you. He also couldn’t help thinking that you would leave him, since all of his past girlfriends left him due to the distance. It was just a matter of time before you did the same, but he tried not to dwell on that nagging thought. He knew you were patient, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last.

“Maybe I could come visit you, you know, when I have a chance?” You asked hesitantly, knowing full well that you were busy with work and school.

“I wish you could, but we both know that isn’t plausible right now.” It sounded harsher than he had intended to be, and he mentally grimaced. You, however, knew he was right. He had told you before that he doesn’t want you to sideline your own life because of his.

“I know.” You answered dejectedly, “but if and when I have a break, I’ll come out to see you.”

Tom finished folding his clothes, and stood up. Without saying a word, he looked over at you and noticed that your face was squeezed against his pillow, your eyes closed. And so; he went to his closet and moved the sheets that were covering your present. In one motion, he grabbed the bag and turned on his heels, and made his way back to his bed.

Without you noticing, he sat down and placed the bag in front of you, and poked your shoulder until you looked up at him.

“Hmm?” You inquired. Instead of responding, Tom scooted the bag closer to you, while sitting down on the corner of his bed. “What is it?”

“Sit up.” He instructed, and as you did so, you saw a gift bag placed in front of you. “Open it please.” He insisted, watching intently as you began to take the tissue paper out of the gift bag.

“Tom, this isn’t what I think it is, right?” You trailed off, and while Tom didn’t give you a verbal answer, it was written all over his face.

“The suspense is killing me,” he pleaded, “please open the bag.”

You did as you were told, and gasped when you pulled the purse out of the gift bag. It was even prettier in person, and somehow more breathtaking.

“Babe, I, what?” You choked out, unable to say anymore. A part of you was so happy that he gifted you with this, but another part of you knew how expensive the bag was.

“Now before you get mad, I know you said you didn’t want me to buy it for you, but I just knew that you wanted it, so I just had to treat you.” He stammered out, “please don’t hate me.”

Overcome with emotion, you threw your arms around Tom’s neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap. “I love it.” You whispered into his neck, and placed a kiss on his neck.

“Promise me you’ll keep it?” He asked, “I need you to promise me you won’t try to return it.”

“I promise I won’t. I’ll cherish it forever.”

—

Tom left the house at 2am, and was headed towards the airport. Leaving you was the hardest thing that he’s ever had to do, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

As you laid in his bed, bundled up in his sweatshirt, you clutched the bag to your chest. It was such a thoughtful gesture for him to buy it for you, but a piece of you did feel guilty that he spent the money on you.

The words he told you not to return the bag echoed in your head, and even though he made you swear not to do so, it did cross your mind. So, you thought, the only way you would be less tempted to return it is if you emptied out your old bag and put your belongings in that one instead. It took you a few minutes to do so, but now seeing your things in there made it feel more like yours.

Doing so tired you out, as it was now almost 3am. Clutching the bag as you settled into bed, you drifted off soundly, mentally preparing for your day tomorrow.

—

Waking up without Tom felt so strange, not having him there next to you. You checked your phone and saw a text from him, saying he loved you and landed safely, complete with a ton of heart emojis. It put a smile on your face, and quickly you typed back that you loved him more, and wished him luck on his day ahead.

About an hour later, you were off to your 9am philosophy class, one that you typically dreaded going to. Sometimes it was a heavy class to start the day off, especially when the coursework focused on the depressing aspects of life and hardship. It was a class that you always hoped to skip, but Tom always made sure you didn’t skip, no matter how badly you wanted to.

As you walked up to the door, you began to slow down. Was it worth going to class, knowing that you’re already pretty bummed out because Tom is away?

When the thought crossed your mind, you could hear Tom’s voice in your head convincing you to go. So, you drudged your way to the door and pulled the handle.

You walked to your seat and slumped into your chair, and placed your new bag on the empty seat next to you. When you went to grab your notebook and pencil, you looked up to see your friend Ella sitting in front of you, body turned to see you.

“Ooh, cute bag!” She exclaimed, eyes bright and cheerful.

“Thank you,” you answered, “it was a gift.” Your tone was a bit more curt than you had expected it to be, but you didn’t have enough energy to try to sound happier.

“Wow, I wish someone would gift me a present that nice.” Ella responded.

The girl sitting next to Ella, one that you didn’t personally know, turned around to see your bag.

“My sister has that same bag, and she loves it. It even has a secret compartment inside the letter keychain.” When she said that, your brows furrowed.

“Hmm, really? I didn’t know that.” You reached for your bag and placed it on your lap. When you pulled out the letter compartment, you noticed that, indeed, there was a hidden zipper. You slowly opened the zipper, and saw that there was an envelope inside. “Well that’s odd, there’s a letter inside, I didn’t know it came with one.” When you took a closer look, you saw that your name was written there, in what looked like Tom’s handwriting.

“It didn’t,” the girl replied, “or at least, it wasn’t supposed to.”

Ella gasped dramatically, “Maybe it’s from the person who gave you the gift—you should read it.”

Luckily, you didn’t have to tell her no, because at that moment, the professor began to start his lecture. You zipped the zipper shut and placed the bag next to you, although you noticed your heart was racing. The thought of Tom writing you a letter made you feel giddy, and in a way, saddening. It made you realise that he wasn’t here with you, but instead thousands of miles away. The class went by ridiculously slowly, but when the professor wrapped up his lecture, you bolted out the door. You sped walk to the nearest bench underneath a pine tree, and hurriedly sat down, reaching for the letter.

He had placed the envelope in there neatly, and even wrote your name in cursive. There were little hearts drawn all over the envelope, even going as far as addressing it from Atlanta, as if he really sent it through the post to you.

The attention to detail already made tears fall onto your cheeks, knowing that Tom really went out of his way to write you a letter. Carefully, you pulled the letter out of the envelope, straightening it a bit before reading it.

My eternal love,

I’m glad you found this letter, sealed and ready for you to read it. I had thought about giving it to you before I left, but I hope this makes it even more special.

When I went to get the bag for you, I had a long conversation with a woman who reminded me how important love is, and how I shouldn’t take it for granted. And, after talking to her, she knew that we had the kind of love that will last a thousand years, and span a million lifetimes.

I now just realised that of course, our relationship is still relatively new, but she just knew that what we have is special; and well, I hope so too.

All my thoughts are consumed by you and you alone; about how happy you make me feel, how safe and secure I feel in your arms, and with you, I feel that anything is possible. The world seems kinder and nicer with you in it, and I feel a sense of divine happiness that I’ve never felt before when we’re together.

I haven’t said this to you yet, or at least not out loud, but I love you. I really, truly, love you. I’ve never been more sure of anything, but this I know indefinitely.

I love all of the little things about you-how you are incredibly patient, loving, and caring. I love when you run your fingers through my hair after a long day, calming me down instantly. I love how you give me your million dollar smile when I kiss you on the cheek, and how you make me feel calm and safe in my extremely hectic life.

All I know is that I love you, through and through, and I hope you feel the same way too.

Forever yours- no matter how far away I am from you,

Tom x

By now, you could hardly read through the tears. You had no idea he was so poetic, and how open he was being with you right now, and the image of him writing this heartfelt letter brought happy tears to your eyes. He loved you so immensely, and it was so comforting to have him say it.

As you wiped the tears with the sleeve of your sweater, you knew you had to tell him you loved him back. And so, you opened up your text messages, found your guys conversation, and voice messaged back,

“I love you more.”

——

mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sinisterspidey @cali-holland @duskholland @yourstrulyamour @determined-overthinker

#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x female reader #tom holland and reader #tom holland and y/n #tom holland and you #tom holland one shots #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #mine

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

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PART 3

You hadn’t quite gotten used to being around Harry in the morning. What would typically be braless breakfasts on Saturday now had you wiping off any traces of mascara and at least throwing on a sports bra before you descended the stairs and turned on the keurig.

But on the morning of what would have been his last day, you came down to hear pots and pans already clanging together and giggles escaping the kitchen.

When you rounded the corner, CeCe was sitting on the counter, Maeve was trying to pour orange juice, and Harry was manning the waffle iron with a bowl of batter by his side.

“Morning,” you said with a suspicious glance. “What’s all this about?”

“Happy birthday!” CeCe smiled, excitement on her face when she turned to see you.

“My birthday’s not for another four days,” you reminded them, a kiss to her forehead when Harry offered a sheepish grin.

It had been long approaching, and thirty-two felt like a number you’d been avoiding in more ways than one. Turning thirty-two probably sounded like no big deal to everyone else. But being a newly-divorced single-mom who’d just lost her father and main support, having a birthday felt like a cruel way for the universe to remind you of all of your failures.

“Right,” Maeve said, “but it’s a Thursday, and we figured we wouldn’t be able to do all of this before school, so,” she shrugged innocently, Harry smiled down at her when you took another look around the kitchen.

It was messy, dishes in the sink and CeCe’s hands looked sticky. Maeve had her hair up but the batter was smeared on her forehead. Harry watched you glance around, his eyes expectant when you then asked: “Can I help?”

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, amused by your obvious discomfort. “S’not what birthday girls do.”

He shooed you away once Maeve came over and tugged at your arm. “Here,” she said, “come sit and watch TV and I’ll make you coffee.”

“Let Harry make it,” you encouraged, unsure if she’d dump the whole sugar bowl in or spill half and half all over the counter.

“Mom, stay out of it, okay?” She rolled her eyes when she pushed the remote in your face. You looked over your shoulder quickly, shocked by the sight of a man with your daughter by his side, laughing and seemingly enjoying himself.

“Roger that,” you nodded, uncomfortable with the swelling of your heart at the sight of it. CeCe giggled and Maeve hurried back over, laughing when Harry let out a playful yelp at the heat from the waffles as he put them on a plate.

It took them a minute to get everything together, and right when your mug of coffee was returned (a little sweet, but you’d live), the doorbell rang and Maeve jumped into action. She pulled the door open to reveal Tristan, eyebrows arched high on his forehead when realized it wasn’t just any Sunday morning.

You were already on your feet to greet him, worried about the current state of your kitchen but also worried about the type of interaction might occur between your right hand man and the guy in an apron with CeCe tugging at his sleeve.

He’d been asking a lot of questions, his penchant for all things pop culture left him curious (or just nosy) about the current living situation in your new house. You were surprised, quite honestly, that it took him this long to pop over unannounced just to get a peek behind the curtain.

“Well hello” he looked around, a smirk on his face when his eyes settled on you. “Quite the morning we have here.”

“It’s mom’s birthday breakfast,” Maeve informed him, scurrying off to help her accomplices when you greeted him with a hug.

He kissed your cheek and shut the door behind himself. “A few days for you to panic, still, right?”

“Panic?” Harry called over his shoulder, his role more passive now that Maeve was worried about the presentation of the waffles on a ceramic plate.

Tristan took that as his cue to stick out his hand, head for the kitchen, and smile: “Nice to meet you, I’m Tristan. Second in command at Luna Skincare.”

“Harry,” he greeted, voice a good octave lower than Tristan’s and a firm enough handshake that made Tristan blush. “I’m just the house guest.”

“So I’ve heard,” Tristan winked in his direction.

“Alright, why are you here?” You tried to pull his attention away from the attractive man in your kitchen, a loud sip of coffee when he made a face at you.

He pushed a folder into your hands. “Sorry to show up unannounced." (He wasn't.) "But I wanted to show you these. Mock ups for the new body wash debut. Don’t know how I feel about those bottles, but, your call.”

You took it, opened it with one hand and let him thumb through some pages for you to see. The body wash debut was a long time coming--only about a month away and as always, it seemed to come at the best and worst time. Spring was always busy, you always launched something exciting and then CeCe’s birthday was in April. Then school got out in late May and there were plays and dance recitals and everything seemed to happen at once.

But spring was the perfect time for launches--sunshine, warmer weather, less rain in LA and people were typically ready to start spending money to prep their skin for summer.

“I kind of like them,” you looked up at him, voice hesitant when you showed them to Maeve.

“Clean lines, modern branding,” she nodded, coming back to stand beside you. “I like them too.”

“The council has spoken,” Tristan nodded, taking the folder back. “I’ll get back to them tomorrow morning and have them send a few samples over for us to see in person before we move to production.” He pulled out his phone and typed a few things into a note, Maeve tugged at your sleeve.

“Are you going to eat?”

“Yes, let’s offer something to our guest, though, right?”

“Harry’s not a guest anymore,” she wrinkled her nose at you in confusion. “It’s been way too long to call him that.”

“I mean Tristan,” you clarified with a laugh, eyes glancing over to Harry to gauge a reaction.

He felt like a guest, sometimes--when he asked how to use the washing machine or when he asked if it was okay to use the pool. But seeing him make waffles with your daughters or sit on the couch to watch a movie with everyone after dinner made him feel like more of a friend. And thinking that made you feel insecure and stupid.

Harry’s brows arched in Tristan’s direction. “We do have plenty.”

“I’m stuffed,” Tristan waved him off. “Had an omelette and a green smoothie and now I’m off to a spin class--wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Says the man who shows up at my house before 9am on a Sunday with no notice,” you teased.

He held a hand to his hard for dramatic effect. “I just felt like this couldn’t wait.”

“Right,” you narrowed your eyes. “No other reason you needed to stop by.”

He laughed, Maeve was growing impatient and he could sense it, adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder as he turned to head for the door. “Birthday dinner Friday night? I already made the reservation based on Zoey’s list of restaurants.”

“I will be there, unfortunately,” you teased. “Even though I said we don’t have to do anything special.”

“Friday night?” Harry inquired, eyebrows furrowed together when he moved to lean on the island.

“You should come,” Tristan decided, an enthusiastic nod in Harry’s direction. “Jeff will be there, Zoey--you’ve met Zoey, right?” Harry nodded but you cut them off.

“You don’t have to, Harry,” you said before turning to Tristan. “He’s probably busy.”

He didn’t have to, that part was true. But your hesitance was also because it felt like another blurred line. Was it weird for him to come? Was it weird for him to sit at a table with your friends and sing happy birthday like you hadn’t just met a few weeks prior?

“No, m’not busy. I was actually going to ask if you wanted me to stay with the girls.”

Another wave of butterflies in your stomach at his words, but Maeve derailed the conversation.

“I’m sleeping over Bella’s house,” she informed.

“Me too!” CeCe chirped with a smile.

“No you’re not,” Maeve shot back. “You’re not coming with me to a sleepover.”

Tristan declined Harry’s offer for you before you even had a chance to open your mouth.

“Do you know the woman? She can afford a babysitter. You should come, we’re gonna have an exquisite time!”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, hands in his pockets when he looked to you. “Is that alright?”

You weren’t going to say no. You weren’t going to stare him in the eyes and tell him he couldn’t come or tell him--in front of your daughters--that it felt weird for him to suddenly be more than just a house guest.

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Perfect,” Tristan smiled, “then I’ll see you on Friday,” he pointed at Harry and turned on his feet, a wave over his shoulders at the girls. “Bye my little devils!”

They both echoed a farewell when you turned to face them. “Okay,” you said, a nod to yourself more than to them. This was fine, it was fine for Harry to come along and spend time with your friends, right?

“Let’s eat already, I’m starving,” CeCe groaned. Maeve reached into the drawer and grabbed forks, Harry got the syrup and helped bring plates to the dining room table. The girls reached for waffles and CeCe let out a cry when Maeve took the one with sprinkles that she wanted.

“CeCe,” Harry reassured, “I made this one just for you. Lots of sprinkles,” he nodded, forking a waffle off of his own plate and onto hers.

She grinned from ear to ear and the butterflies reappeared. Maybe having him around wasn’t so bad after all.

Maeve’s sleepover fell through. Apparently Bella didn’t ask her mom in time and when Shelli arrived to pick up the girls for an exciting sleepover at Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv’s, Maeve was less than thrilled.

The day of your birthday was less than exciting. Meetings in the morning, Tristan brought you a cupcake at lunch and you were doing your best to not honk aggressively loud in the pick up line that afternoon when someone nearly caused an accident.

Take out that night with the girls because you didn’t want to cook and Harry was busy--some sort of meeting with Jeff and other people. You were sat on the couch by 10pm with a glass of wine and for a second, you thought about waiting up for him.

A text at 10:15 informed that he’d probably stroll in after midnight. You climbed the stairs and felt hopeless and pathetic and entirely old. Even if everyone was telling you that you weren’t.

Now, Maeve was going on and on about how unfair it was that you didn’t ever let her stay home alone.

“One day will you let me?”

You gave her a sideways glance, secured an earring in place at your dresser and then turned to see her.

“One day--a long time from now.”

“A long time?” She asked, slumped over in a chair in the corner of your bedroom. “How long is long?”

“Maeve,” you let out a frustrated sigh, thankful for the fact that Shelli was more than fine to entertain CeCe downstairs while you finished getting ready and plastered enough deodorant to your armpits in hopes that you wouldn’t sweat through this dress. “I’m not playing this game.”

“It’s not a game, it’s a question,” she shot back.

“When you’re fifteen maybe.”

“Fifteen?! That’s, like, five whole years from now!”

“I know,” you nodded, offering her some mock sympathy. “However will you survive until then?”

A knock on the open door, an awkward smile from Harry. “Hi, sorry to interrupt--you look beautiful.”

“Ew,” Maeve rolled her eyes but then didn’t say more when you shot her a glance in the mirror.

“Thank you,” you said awkwardly, resting a hand on your hip. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to say I’ll drive, if you want. That way you can, you know,” he held a hand up to his mouth and gestured throwing back a shot.

Maeve stared up at him, confusion etched on her face but then she looked to you. “So you can drink?”

Harry’s face suddenly looked guilty, his eyes wide when you let out a laugh.

“Yes, so I can drink. But only responsibly,” you informed her, a finger pointed in her direction before you nodded and obliged. “That would be great, Harry.”

If he was going to come, he might as well be useful. It wasn’t going to be that type of night, though. Thirty-two felt like it was way too old to get too drunk to drive or end up on a friend’s couch hungover in the morning.

This was just a birthday dinner, ten people total and fancy wine. You’d order dessert and be home by eleven.

Maeve lugged her overnight bag down the steps, complaining the whole way about Bella and dragging her feet out of the door and into Shelli’s car.

Shelli, who wrapped her arms around you and wished you a happy belated, kissed you on both cheeks and encouraged you to let loose. “You’re not old,” she smiled. “You’re mature, you’re settling into your life. You’ve got years ahead of you to be boring and tired.”

You smiled, let her hug you again when you said: “it’s just been a hard year.”

“I know,” she nodded, brushed your hair with her hand and gave you an extra squeeze. “And birthdays just make us look back at the last 365 days.”

You nodded when she let you go. She kept your hands in hers, though, ignored the way Maeve said something snotty to CeCe in the back seat. “But here’s to looking forward! To the next 365 days and to less headaches. I’ll keep these two under control and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry had wandered out now, sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the setting sun.

“Harry!” Shelli called him over. “Make sure Y/N has fun tonight.”

He let out a laugh but looked in your direction. “I can try.” He had the keys in his hand, pressed a button to make his car chirp to life when Shelli got in hers.

You bent down at the back window, reached in and pinched CeCe on the cheek. “Be good, okay?”

“You be good too, mommy,” CeCe smiled. They waved from the backseat when they pulled out of the driveway and you turned to see Harry, still standing with his sunglasses on a smirk on his face.

“What?”

“Is it really that hard to make you have fun?”

He walked towards his car, you followed his lead and prayed your heels would hold out on the pavement. “No,” you said with a certain level of defense. “She’s just teasing me.”

“Yeah?” He climbed in when you opened the door. You settled in beside him and felt a sudden urge to convince him.

“I’m a fun person, Harry.”

He smirked when he started the engine. “Never said you weren’t.”

“I just have responsibilities, you know? Two children--that clearly would kill each other with their bare hands if I weren’t watching.”

“Hmm, don’t think I agree with you on that one,” he laughed, the tires gripped the pavement of your street when he took off towards the restaurant. “I think they’re more tame than you think. In fact, I think you’ve gotten so connected to the role of mom that it’s hard for you to turn that off.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You sound like a therapist.”

He shrugged, dimples on his cheeks when he stole a glance in your direction from behind his sunglasses. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“No,” you said, looking down at the bracelet on your wrist. “Not completely.”

Quiet for a few moments, a left turn signal before he looked at you again. “I think you’re super fun, by the way.”

You hated the way it made your pulse pick up, another smirk in his direction when you felt your cheeks turn warm and he let out a tiny laugh.

You were both quiet for the rest of the ride, he introduced himself to Zoey and joked with Jeff on the way to your table on the back patio of a restaurant in Brentwood. They’d put up balloons, a toast in your honor after other friends filed in.

Appetizers first, embarrassing stories from your high school friends who seemed to flutter their eyelashes in Harry’s direction. Jeff’s arm was around the back of your chair by the time your dinner plates were cleared.

“The only time I’ve seen you as excited was when our dads brought us backstage for the No Strings Attached tour.”

You shot Jeff a look quickly, hoping he wasn’t planning on launching into the same story he’d told a thousand times--if only to see the look on your face.

“Wait, you mean the NSYNC tour?” Harry was seated across the table, margarita in hand when he leaned in for more details.

“Oh god,” Zoey rolled her eyes when Tristan shook his head. “Not this story again.”

“You mean the greatest story ever?” Jeff leaned down and shot her a look.

“We’ve all heard it,” Tristan whined, “I could recite it as if I was there, honestly.”

Harry’s eyes met yours, a few glasses of wine deep as the tea lights above the patio flickered on. “I haven’t heard it.”

“You certainly don’t need to,” you pointed at him with a lazy finger.

“Were you even alive then?” Tristan laughed.

“For NSYNC?” Harry pulled his head back, “course I was! My sister was obsessed with them.”

“Okay, well the story is literally stupid. Jeff thinks it’s funnier than it is and all that happened--”

“I want to tell him!” Jeff reached over and smacked you on the shoulder, pulling an eye roll from you when the others let out a laugh. “She asked Justin Timberlake to sign her boobs in front of our dads and it was ridiculously uncomfortable for everyone.”

“I was fourteen,” you defended, a smile pulling your lips towards the sky. “And stupid and in love with him and I didn’t think they could hear us.”

“Right,” Jeff waved you off as if everything you said was totally valid. “But the best part is when her dad then goes: ‘if you sign hers, you have to sign mine, too.’”

Zoey let out a snort of a laugh and so did the others, Harry tried to fight a smirk when he looked your way.

Jeff could barely keep a straight face, “Justin Timberlake never seemed so intimidated in his life.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t heard that story before,” Harry said to Jeff, elbows on the table now. “I can’t believe Irv hasn’t made a thousand jokes about it.”

You sipped at your drink and narrowed your eyes at Harry. “Maybe he also blocked it out due to being traumatized by the embarrassment.”

“What year was that?”

“Summer of 2000,” you looked to Jeff. “Their prime, obviously not mine.”

“Oh it was most certainly not your prime.” He shot back with a laugh,

You gave him a shove. “It wasn’t yours either! Your hair was curly and not in the cool JT way.”

“I’ve seen some of those pictures,” Harry pointed at his friend. “She’s right--not in a cool way.”

Jeff played it off and shot something back at Harry, ordered you another drink when you tugged on a jacket in the cooler air. The waiter brought out a cake with sparklers on top, Zoey took a thousand pictures and wrapped her arms around you at the end of the night.

“I have a feeling thirty-two will be a much better year,” she assured.

“Here’s hoping,” you agreed, pulled apart from her when Tristan leaned in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Well, you have a chauffeur for the night, so you’re off to a good start,” he teased.

Harry held up his keys in his hand and raised his eyebrows in a cheeky way. “Door to door service, a good price. Definitely off to a good start.”

You climbed back into the front seat of his car after Jeff shoved the balloons in the back, told you to keep them for the girls. The car ride was quiet, he told you about his album and kept the windows half way down as you snaked back up into the hills. You weren’t wasted by any means, just tipsy and tired and full after good food and better friends.

You keyed into the house with the balloons in hand, Harry was behind you and flicked on a light switch downstairs. You kicked your heels off inside and let the balloons float into the living room. “Want a glass of wine?”

He looked in your direction after clicking his phone shut, eyebrows raised as if he didn’t quite know how to answer. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

“I’d have one if you would,” you shrugged, already walking to the kitchen to grab some glasses.

He smiled, came to the island and ran a hand through his hair when you uncorked a new bottle of Pinot Noir. When you handed him a glass, he clinked it against yours and took a sip.

“Happy Birthday,” he said.

“Don’t remind me,” you laughed.

“Oh come on, s’not that bad.”

“You turn thirty-two and then tell me that.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” he nodded. “Dinner was good though.”

“As good as it can be when you get that group of weirdos together,” you admitted, stem of the glass between your fingers when you headed for the couch. He watched you walk away, paused for a moment before he followed suit and sat a few cushions down on the oatmeal colored sofa.

“S’kind of funny that we hadn’t met before Jeff set this up,” he motioned around the living room as if to gesture to the living arrangement. “I mean--obviously I’d heard a lot about you.”

“Like what?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him as you sipped the wine again. “If not the most embarrassing story of my early teens--”

“Just that you were one of his closest friends. Probably heard just as much about you from Shelli and Irv, to be fair.”

“I think I’m their favorite child even though I’m not actually theirs.”

He laughed at that, lifted his glass as if to agree with you before he angled his body towards you. “What did Jeff ever say about me? Aside from making me sound homeless and pathetic.”

You shook your head a bit and tugged at the hem of your dress. “He didn’t make you sound like either of those.”

“Well you didn’t seem too eager to have me living here…”

He trailed off, like he was waiting for you to protest or something. When you fought a smile and looked up at him, he squinted suspiciously. “What?”

You hesitated, unsure if admitting it would do you any good. Things were starting to feel normal, almost like Harry had a place in your house or your life or like it at least wasn’t awkward to be sitting on the couch with him after a night out with friends.

“Oh it’s that bad? Hesitate before you tell me bad?”

You made a face and laughed, almost embarrassed. “I was mostly focused on the fact that you’re young and that you’d maybe be a bad influence on the girls. You know--the whole rock star vibe.”

He smiled, nodded after a second but then said: “do I pass the test?”

“There’s no test,” you rolled your eyes.

“Right,” he looked at you like you were crazy, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “You expect me to believe that you didn’t make me meet you for coffee with Jeff that day to scope me out? Figure out if I was a total freak--”

You leaned back into the sofa and let out a playful groan. “I mean I was hoping you weren’t since Jeff always had such good things to say about you.”

He made you list them off, laughed at the fact that you thought you were too old or too uncool to come to the release for his first album. He poured you both another glass and smiled, hopefully you’ll come to the next one.

He showed you stupid videos from his time in his old band, listened to you talk about anxieties at work and how weird it felt to be in your dad’s house now.

“I mean, I’m glad we had a place to come.”

“Where’d you live before?”

“Woodland Hills,” you shrugged. “We bought a house there right after CeCe was born. It was nice, but too small and we obviously needed a change after I found him in bed with another woman in our bedroom there, so.”

Harry’s eyes went wide at that, he let out a laugh when you did, too. “Sounds miserable.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“And he’s not--does he see the girls ever?”

You bit your lip, moved your head from side to side and then sighed. “I mean--I asked if he could come to the funeral just to be with them and watch them since I was so busy, but he told me that he’d planned a weekend getaway with his new girlfriend in Malibu, so…”

“So he’s really a twat.”

You laughed at his word choice, British and confident when he nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Luke.”

“Luke!” He scoffed and looked up the ceiling. “No wonder he was a twat.”

“Yep,” you nodded. “So it’s nice to be here.”

“I’m sorry that happened, by the way.”

You waved him off, finished the last of your wine and set the glass on the coffee table. “S’all good. Moving on to bigger and better things, right?”

“M’sure you can do better than someone who didn’t realize what a mistake he was making.”

You nodded slowly, dropped his gaze when you felt butterflies beneath your ribcage. You let out a breath, looked up to him. “I should probably head to bed.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, moved to stand from the couch and reached out for your wine glass. You handed it to him, ignored the way his fingers grazed against yours when he smiled. “Are you drunk?”

You hesitated to answer, followed behind him to the kitchen when he looked over his shoulder, waiting for your answer.

“Are you drunk?”

He pretended to be offended. “I asked you first!”

You lifted your shoulders and then giggled. “Yes, but in a good way.”

“Great, love that.”

“You have to answer, too!”

He turned around after he put the glasses in the sink. “After a bottle of wine here and a few margaritas at dinner? Of course I am,” he laughed. “Red wine goes straight to my head,” he pointed to his temple.

“Well,” you started to walk back to the living room for the stairs by your office, flipping off a few light switches along the way. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yeah? You plan on getting me drunk again soon?”

“I didn’t get you drunk,” you pointed at him. “It’s my birthday dinner, remember?”

“Yeah--you’ve been throwing them back all night so I couldn’t forget.”

“From the guy who encouraged me to have fun tonight! I’ve been having a great time, totally relaxed, totally cool…”

“You have,” he laughed, his footsteps echoing on the stairs behind you. “Just like you were totally cool when you met NSYNC.”

“Hey,” you turned around quickly and laughed, a tad unsteady from the drinks and the time of night. “That is privileged and confidential information--not something you get to hold over my head!”

“Mmm, okay, so I can’t bring that up in front of Irv and Shelli?”

“Absolutely not,” you leaned against the door frame to your room. “Unless you want to never speak to me again.”

It was dark in the hallway, a glow from the lights on the first floor crept up the stairs when he held your gaze for a second.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he said, voice quieter now.

Your heart seemed to flutter, or maybe it was the alcohol or the fact that you were up way too late. “Mhm,” you paused, unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift in the air between you. “Then I suggest you forget that story.”

“Thanks for letting me come with you guys tonight.”

“Yeah,” you said, eyes down to the ground for a second, suddenly self conscious. Did he have a good time? Was it weird for him to come? “Thanks for driving.”

You didn’t have too long to dwell on the thoughts, though, because soon he stepped closer and let his mouth meet yours before you were able to bring a hand to his shirt, tugging him into you.

He pulled you closer, too, his hand on the small of your back before he pulled away. “Are you--is that--I should have asked first.”

“No,” you shook your head, the word sounded funny in your drunk brain. “I’m not mad about it.”

He let out a quiet laugh, kissed you again when you tugged him back into the room and shut the door with his free hand.

You stumbled backwards, laughed against his lips when he lowered you onto the bed. Greedy hands and desperate moans when he pulled away to tug down your panties. If your life had been a movie, there’d be a cut to the hands on a clock spinning while you giggled into his neck and felt your skin against his beneath the sheets.

But what felt like a dream could only last so long.

Your head shot up from the pillow when you heard it--the door opening and shutting, the beep throughout the house to let you know someone had arrived. Sun shone through the curtains and giggles floated up from the first floor, you heard Maeve tell CeCe something and then you heard footsteps on the stairs.

Morning, the night faded into sobriety and you rubbed your eyes. His face was barely visible beneath his messy hair and the sheet pulled up to his chin.

“Harry,” you shoved him, voice quiet but stern. “Wake up!”

He blinked a few times, squinted in the sunlight and you realized that an 8am wake up call might have been early for him, you know, since he was barely an adult.

“The girls are home,” you said when you shoved him again. “Which means Shelli is here, which means you need to get the hell out of my bed.”

His eyes opened wide at that, he pushed himself up and then scrambled out of the sheets when he heard footsteps in the hall. The door was locked, luckily, but the banging of little fists had you pushing Harry into your bathroom and telling him to not say a word.

He was sleepy, but his lips pulled into a smirk when he took one look at you half-dressed. There was no time for addressing the way his fingers pulled moans from your lips or the way he said he’d been waiting for this. No, because as soon as the thoughts of last night settled back into your brain, you tugged the door open to see your beautiful daughters smiling up at you.

“Good morning,” you said, voice cheery when you tugged a sweatshirt over your skimpy tank top. You forced a smile and Maeve seemed to narrow her eyes.

“You look messy.”

“I just haven��t brushed my hair,” you told her. CeCe pushed past you and ran straight for your bed, a cannonball of sorts into tangled sheets.

“We had the best time with Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv!” She said, “we watched a movie last night mommy and I stayed up until ten o’clock.”

“You fell asleep on the couch,” Maeve corrected her. “I stayed up until almost eleven,” she bragged.

“That’s great,” you told them, heartbeat rising as you tried to search for a way out of this. “Girls, why don’t you go find Auntie Shelli and--”

“I’m right here, sorry, I hope they didn’t wake you,” she appeared in the doorway, pulling another forced smile from you when you turned on your heels. “Good morning,” she looked you up and down with a smirk, more perceptive than your daughters.

“Where’s Harry?” Maeve asked, crossing her arms as she relaxed back on top of your duvet.

“I don’t know,” you said quickly. “In his room.”

“Door’s open, he’s not there,” she answered.

“Maybe he went to stay at a friend’s house.”

“Oh--did he tell you that?”

“I don’t remember,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, suddenly feeling put on trial by your ten-year-old.

Shelli had scanned the room, her eyes landing on the shoes by the foot of your bed that were clearly not yours. She smiled, nodded slowly and then said: “Girls, why don’t we go pick up donuts? We can bring some back for mom and she can take a shower and straighten up while we’re out?”

“Great idea,” you smiled, a hurried nod as you moved towards your daughters and ushered them out of your bed. “When you get back we can watch TV or go for a bike ride later today,” you were just throwing shit at the wall now, anything to get them out of your room and distracted enough to not realize that Harry’s shirt was on the floor beside his pants and that his bed hadn’t even been slept in.

“I want a jelly donut!” CeCe informed you when Shelli pushed them out into the hallway.

“Sounds great,” you smiled. “See you in a bit, okay?”

You mouthed a thank you to Shelli and she winked in your direction, a wave of nausea crashing into you once the door was shut. You rushed over to the bathroom door, pulled it open, and found Harry leaning against the wall with his head in his hands.

He looked up quickly at the sound, offered an awkward smile and said: “are you livid?”

You shook your head, unsure how to put your emotions into words but also aware of the fact that this was the exact reason why this should have never happened. You turned around and headed back for the bedroom, looked out the window near your closet to see Shelli helping the girls into the backseat.

“You’re not livid?”

“No,” you said, turning around quickly. “I just--I don’t know--that probably wasn’t a great idea.”

His face fell a little bit, arms crossed over his torso when he asked: “what do you mean?”

“Last night was fun, Harry, but I’m thirty-two. I’m a mom,” you said the word like it was embarrassing to admit.

He made a face like he didn’t get the point but then nodded. “I’m completely aware of both of those facts.”

“You’re twenty-four,” you reminded him. “That’s a seven year age difference.”

“Eight, now that your birthday passed,” he said this sheepishly, like he knew it would lead to another groan.

“Exactly!” You said. “That’s a big gap. I spend my weekends going to birthday parties and playdates. What do you even do? Go to clubs and hang out with millionaires?”

He let out a laugh. “I’ve been hanging out with your kids a lot on the weekends, to be honest.”

“Yeah, but, my kids almost just caught us in bed together and Jeff’s mom is definitely aware that something happened, now, so--”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

A moment passed when you heard the engine start.

“It was fun, though,” he said, a small step closer to you when you let out a sigh. “It was something I’d been hoping would happen.”

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat when he took another step closer, the pad of his thumb making contact with your arm when he went on. “Call me crazy but I feel like we both knew that was coming.”

You took a step back, not because he was wrong and not because you didn’t like it, but because suddenly every thought in your brain was spinning at 100 miles per hour and you knew you had about fifteen minutes to get dressed and figure out what the hell was going on. Or at least craft a story that would explain why his clothes were in your room and figure out a way to get Shelli to completely forget whatever she thought she saw.

“Can we maybe talk about it later? Like--when they’re not coming back here in a few minutes with donuts and coffee?”

“Yes,” he nodded, words fumbling out of his mouth like he’d forgotten how to form sentences. “Later. I’m going to get dressed.”

“Me too.”

He shut the door after he gathered up his clothes and shoes. You sat on the foot of the bed and stared at your hands--the ones that had touched him and run through his hair and traced circles on his chest when you fell asleep.

You were simultaneously mad at yourself for being stupid enough to do that and still completely enchanted by the fact that it happened and you weren’t dreaming and you hadn’t been crazy to think there was some level of sexual tension between you.

You were drunk. The first time you'd had more than two glasses of wine in a while, after all. Whatever type of stupid crush that had developed was nothing more than that: stupid, silly, a complete fantasy that had sparked into a flame once you had a few drinks.

Sure, maybe you had no clue what to do moving forward, but you figured that playing it cool was the only option until you’d had enough time to let your thoughts and feelings settle.

Maeve and CeCe were clueless, you learned, when they sat at the counter and scarfed down donuts. You sipped the coffee that Shelli had returned with and asked about their night.

A movie, popcorn on the couch, so many laughs and Uncle Irv even let them play on the old pinball machine he kept in his office.

The shower in Harry’s room shut off eventually, he descended the stairs with wet hair and offered a timid smile to everyone in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he patted CeCe on the head and moved to fetch the cup of coffee that Shelli offered in his direction.

“I’ll take it the birthday dinner went well?” Shelli brought her coffee up to her lips and let her eyes dance between the two of you. Harry looked at you and you looked at him, a silent standoff to see who would respond.

But it was your birthday, you realized.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Was great.”

You reached for a bite of donut from CeCe’s plate, she let out a yelp when you plopped it in your mouth, offering her an apologetic look. “Good food, good drinks.”

“You enjoyed yourself too, Harry?”

He was caught off guard by this, lips in a thin line when he set his coffee on the counter and nodded. “It was wonderful, really.”

Shelli wouldn’t care--you weren’t worried what she would think or if she’d judge you. If anything, you knew she’d be the type to encourage you to let your hair down and venture out into the dating pool. Which is what she practically did last night. You just didn’t know if she’d actually meant to encourage you to sleep with the client of her son.

But she didn’t know the context! She didn’t know about the way he looked at you across the dinner table or the way he kept pouring wine. All she knew was that she told you to have fun and then she found you--quite disheveled--with Harry’s clothes on the floor and Harry himself nowhere to be found.

Maeve was off to her room soon enough, reporting that she needed a break from CeCe who was keen to play with a doll in the living room with the TV on. You wiped the counter with a sponge and Harry took a loud slurp of his coffee when Shelli broke out into a full smile.

“It’s none of my business,” she said.

“It’s not,” you looked up at her quickly.

“But,” she lifted a single shoulder and smirked when you rolled your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Then why was he hiding in the bathroom?” She lowered her voice so CeCe wouldn’t hear.

“How do you know I was in the bathroom?”

“He wasn’t hiding in the bathroom.”

Shelli offered an unimpressed look in your direction but then turned to Harry. “She’s a catch, Harry.”

“Okay,” you held up a hand, embarrassed and uncomfortable and already breaking a sweat. It was fun, you’d been thinking a lot about him and the way he acted with you and the kids and you didn’t need Shelli to be egging on your single-mom fantasy.

Harry blushed at that, a nod in her direction and a smirk on his face when he brought his eyes to you.

“Shelli--people get drunk and do things that sometimes they wouldn’t normally, right? So, I need you to not make a big deal out of this and not tell Jeffrey.”

She put her fingers up to her lips and twisted them, implying that they were locked and Jeff wouldn’t catch wind of your best and most anxiety-provoking hook up to date. She dropped it at that, Harry made some excuse about going for a run and soon Saturday melted back into what you’d hoped it would be: the kids playing outside, cannon balls in the pool after lunch.

Daylight faded and it wasn’t until after 9pm when you had to face him again. He knocked on the door to your office when you had glasses falling down your nose, a sweatshirt tugged over your messy bun.

The side of his mouth twitched into a smirk, arms folded over his chest. “Do you ever take a day off?”

You let out a laugh and turned to see him over your shoulder. “Email never sleeps.”

He watched you for a second, wheels spinning in his head as he planned out his next words carefully: “Is now a better time to discuss what happened last night?”

You let out a sigh, one that pulled a nervous look to his face, but he soon laughed. “Uh oh,” he teased. “Doesn’t sound like a good start.”

“No,” you laughed, unsure of how to save any last morsel of dignity. “I’m sorry that Shelli was so...intrusive this morning.”

He looked down to the ground but chuckled. “Can’t say I’m surprised. She’s always talked about you like a daughter.”

“Yeah, I just--I had a great time, I mean that--”

“But,” he looked at you expectantly, blinked a few times when you smacked your lips together.

“But I think that it needs to be a one time thing. It would be really confusing for CeCe and Maeve if they found out.”

He nodded, took a deep breath and said: “I agree. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Something plucked at your heart, an unidentifiable emotion that made you want to kiss him harder than you did after five drinks and a birthday dinner. He was fine--totally understanding and unbothered by your words that effectively ended whatever mini-fling had existed for less than 24 hours.

Maybe that was it--disappointment. Had you expected him to put up a fight and convince you endlessly to sleep with him again or sweep you off your feet and drive off into the sunset? No. Did a part of you wish that he didn’t seem so accepting of learning that it would never happen again? Apparently so.

You faltered for a second, stared at him awkwardly but then clicked out of your mailbox. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

He looked back out to the kitchen, quiet and tidy after it’s post-dinner clean. “Do you want a glass of wine?” He smiled a bit, watched you with a sturdy dose of suspicion when you stood and rolled your eyes.

“Is this our thing? Turning questions around?”

He laughed but trailed behind you, sat at the island when you picked out a bottle. “Our thing? What do you mean?”

“You know--all friends have a thing, their bantery joke. Apparently ours is asking a question but then the other person turns it back around.”

“Hmmm,” he laughed, thought on it for a second when you uncorked and poured. “Are we friends?”

You looked up at him, matched the smirk on his face when he plucked at his lower lip. You slid a glass over to him on the granite. “Are we not friends?”

“You’re doing our thing.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, took a sip of the Merlot and then cleared your throat. “We can be friends.”

“Friends who don’t sleep together.”

“Right,” you nodded, less self-conscious than you had been in your office. It happened, right? People would accidentally sleep together when they were drunk and they could move on, poke fun, make light of a situation that threatened to bring too many emotions to the surface if either one let their guard down for a second.

“Did either Maeve or CeCe ask any more questions today about where I was?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, let out a breath of relief. “Maeve got too distracted by the donuts and the activity planning of the day and CeCe was oblivious the whole time. So, we should be fine.”

“Good,” he said. A pause when he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?”

He looked up at you briefly, shrugged a little and then said: “Just can’t help but think about what Jeff would say.”

You blushed at that, dropped his gaze and stared at the wine in your glass. “I don’t know about you but I’m okay not finding out.”

Another dimple on his cheek when he asked: “embarrassed of me?”

“No,” you laughed, fighting a smile. “I just know how he can be. He’ll want to know every detail and he’ll have a million questions. If you think Shelli was bad this morning, Jeff would be worse.”

He smiled, tipped his glass back to take another pull. “Right, he might as well be your brother, I guess.”

“He’s just as annoying as one, that’s for sure." You were desperate to change the subject, fearful of what you might say or admit if the topic stayed put. "Do you have any siblings?”

“Sister, yeah,” he nodded. “Just the two of us.”

“Are you close?”

“Super,” he smiled. “We talk pretty regularly despite the time difference. Our parents got divorced when we were young so it kind of feels like we’ve been through a lot together.”

He didn’t realize the way his words hit close to home until you sighed.

“How much did that ruin your life?”

He pulled a face, apologetic and understanding at the same time. “It didn’t ruin my life,” he reassured. “Just don’t think they were meant to be.”

“Well I can definitely relate to that.”

He tilted his head to the side, swirled the wine around his glass. “Why do you ask if it ruined my life?”

“I just worry about them, I guess. I was young when they got divorced, and then my mom passed and that definitely affected my sense of family."

He nodded, his eyes invested when you spoke.

“It was just me and my dad--and obviously we had the Azoffs, but, I don’t know. I guess I just worry that they’ll also grow up feeling somewhat unfulfilled.”

“Did you want a sibling growing up?”

“More than anything,” you laughed. “I mean, I had Alison and Jeff and all of them, but--you know, it’s not blood.”

“Yeah,” he took another sip. “I get that--my step dad was really important to me, passed away last summer.”

“Oh, wow--I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

Great--here you were complaining about losing both parents now, completely unaware that Harry had suffered a similar loss and yet this was the first time you were hearing it.

“I don’t mean to talk about myself so much,” you said quickly, cheeks flushed in a pink hue of shame.

He let out a soft laugh, almost as if he found your sudden retraction endearing or adorable. “I could listen all day.”

“Well, I wouldn’t make you suffer through that,” you said.

He stood, rounded the edge of the island and you wondered if he could hear your heart beating out of your chest, like you were 16 at a summer fair on top of the ferris wheel. His lips were pressed to yours before you could tell him not to, before you could stick up a hand between the two of you and remind him what you’d said only a few minutes earlier: friends.

The moment was quick, though, the tiny thudding of feet on the stairs sent him flying to the other side of the kitchen. CeCe’s hands gripped the railing and she rubbed at her eyes when she let out a tiny wail.

“I--had--a--bad--dream,” she cried, her voice soft in the dim kitchen.

“Oh sweetie,” you hurried over to her, let your arms wrap around her before you scooped her up into your arms. “It’s okay, it was just a dream, you’re here and safe with mommy.”

You looked over to him, a close lipped smile in apology when you turned back to the stairs. Maybe it was for the best. If you couldn’t control yourself around him, at least you could count on nightmares and little feet to be your safety net.

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nct-lian · 3 years

Text

people who have a crush on lian (outside of the group)

ERIC SOHN, THE BOYZ

duration: april 2020 — present

he actually developed a crush on her after he had watched the music video to her pre-release single, “stay tonight.” he thought she looked SO good and went on to talk about how much he loved that kind of concept on her for weeks on end.

eric obviously knew about her prior to his discovery of the song, having a member that’s been great friends with her for about a year.

he thinks that if kevin would stop hogging lian and actually let her interact with more of the members, he’d be able to “win her over” but according to kevin, she’s his best friend and his best friend only.

do fans know?: yes

fans of both the boyz and nct figured out that eric had a little bit of a crush on her after watching the english line’s episode of the k-pop daebak show with eric nam.

it was the section of which eric nam was reading out all the questions jacob, kevin and eric had sent in for each other, and one of kevin’s questions for eric was, “do you have a crush on my best friend?”

eric nam widened his eyes, “you have a best friend that he has a crush on?” he asked kevin, who was trying not to laugh hysterically at the question that had resurfaced. “he might,” kevin nodded.

“jacob, do you know who he’s talking about?” jacob nodded and suppressed his giggle by lifting the pillow he was hugging tightly to his chest and covering his face with it.

eric held a look on his face that screamed, “i’ve been personally victimized” as he shot his head back and forth between kevin and the other two older men in the room.

“i don’t have a crush on your best friend.. well- you know- like- maybe a celebrity crush.”

kevin cackled, “she’s not a celebrity-” eric nam laughed at that and shrugged his shoulders when eric turned to him for some help. “i don’t even know who’s he’s talking about, don’t look at me!”

“to you!” eric shot back at kevin, implying that he obviously wasn’t going to see her as a celebrity, given their best friend status.

jacob let him himself laugh, “eric, it’s okay, you make it so obvious sometimes.” he reassured his younger member.

eric stuttered over his words and kept shaking his head. “it’s a celebrity crush. no real feelings.” he stated.

the man across from him, again, shrugged his shoulders in confusion. “i still don’t know who we’re talking about?”

kevin apologized and clapped his hands together, “she’s actually schedules to come on this show.” he smiled and threw him a thumbs up. “is she really? oh, i think i know who it is, then.” eric nam made a face and looked at kevin and jacob, who both matched his expression.

then they all looked at eric, “why are you guys looking at me like that? okay, next question.” he smiled in attempt to change the topic. eric obeyed, feeling bad that they were sort of teasing him, while the two others just laughed.

current status: acquaintances (they met through kevin moon)

( FIRST MEETING ) lian had been waiting at the door of kevin’s dormitory for a minute too long, and no matter how many times she knocked, nobody would answer. they were supposed to be going on a walk in order to catch up before their weekly schedules.

lian pulled out her phone and called kevin through facetime, him answering almost immediately. “kevin, why aren’t you answering? i’ve been knocking nonstop.”

he rolled his eyes and told her to just come in and that he’ll be a minute because he can’t find any shoes that look good with his outfit.

she hung up on him and walked inside, greeted with the sight of the boyz’s maknae on the couch. she stopped in her tracks and watched as he scrambled to his feet in panic. “s-sunbaenim, what are you doing here?” eric scratched the back of his neck.

“huh? oh! i’m just waiting for kevin to finish getting ready.” she smiled politely and looked at everything but him, finding the interior of their dorm rather interesting at that moment.

getting uncomfortable with the awkward atmosphere her and eric had created, she yelled out for kevin to hurry up. “moon hyungseo!” she called him by his korean name, knowing that he didn’t like it.

“don’t you dare call me that, bae haneul!” he shot back at her, stumbling out of his room while trying to put on his left shoe.

she chuckled, “hah, jokes on you, i actually like my korean name.” he stuck his tongue out at her, “okay idiot, let’s just go.”

he opened the door for her so she could walk out first, “uhh, bye eric.” lian waved at him with a tight smile before exiting the dorm, kevin following after her.

eric waited for the door to close before he returned her goodbye, giggling like a little schoolboy who’d just received a lolipop.

“she knows my name.” a bright smile replaced the awkward frown on his face.

crush percentage out of 100: 60%

BANG CHAN, STRAY KIDS

duration: unknown — present

chan can remember keeping up with smrookies while he was still a trainee, and he developed some sort of jealousy towards lian. he saw her grow as a person, not just an artist.

he watched her debut first, he watched her transition from red velvet into nct, he watched her achieve his dreams before he could.

this jealousy overtime somehow turned into feelings, and he had no idea what kind of feelings they exactly were.

he hadn’t ever really experienced feelings like this before, and he was terrified to admit what he thought they were. eventually, chan opened up to someone and it was clear that he had a bit of a crush on her — and a big one.

chan began to update himself on smrookies daily, constantly wanting to know what she was up to and what her debut plans were, especially because of the sudden group change.

even now that they’re great friends, he’s always calling her to see what’s going on and if she needs help with anything.

do fans know?: definitely

no doubt do stays know about his feelings — he was bound to slip up once or twice while live streaming to them.

and that slip up just so happened to be while he was reacting to lian’s “play” music video. everything was going fine — bopping his head to the beat and humming calmly, but he couldn’t stop the blush from spreading onto his cheeks while watching her dance with another guy.

yeah, he was jealous, but that doesn’t mean stays had to know. he hysterically fanned his face, somewhat over exaggerating to play it off. “oh- woah- is the ac not working in here suddenly?” he playfully laughed at the camera facing him.

the song soon ended, and chan was back to reading all of the comments. he read some aloud, some in his head, but he accidentally let one slip through his lips.

“do you have a crush on neullie?” he nearly cursed when he realized the question he had just read to the entire live stream said what it said, allowing himself to sit back in his chair as he watched all the comments flood in.

“well, do you?” “CHAN OMFG-” “christopher bang..”

“guys, come on, of course i don’t.” the viewers definitely wanted to believe him; like, a lot, but they couldn’t.

the way he smiles whenever she was brought up in a conversation, how he looks so incredibly proud when talking about her — it would be a complete lie to believe otherwise.

current status: good friends

( FIRST MEETING ) changed out of the sparkly, sequinned dress she’d been wearing for the last couple of hours and now sitting in a pair of sweats and a zip up, lian couldn’t be happier.

finally out of the uncomfortably tall heels and being able to sit down on a cushy sofa while waiting to leave the venue, lian pulled out her phone to check notifications.

five minutes probably passed before her manager gave her the “okay” to start walking to the exit, the car already waiting for her outside.

leaving the dressing room, she saw taeyong, who decided to tag along with the driver (and taeil) so he could see her. “hey, oppa.” she greeted, grabbing onto his arm and leaning on his shoulder for support.

“did you have fun? were you able to see sunmi-sunbaenim today?” he patted her hand slowly. she nodded and made a noise in confirmation, way too tired to give an audible response.

taeyong chuckled as he made sure to keep her upright while getting closer to the exit.

meanwhile, bang chan was talking with felix a couple feet away. he felt bad watching as taeyong struggled to help lian balance herself on her, for sure, wobbly legs.

he saw how terrific she danced that night, completely dominating the stage with her powerful choreography and her clear vocals.

subtly walking in their direction, he put his hand out the minute taeyong’s arm wasn’t able to hold her up anymore. lian looked like she was sleeping at that point.

chan gracefully caught her in his arms, taeyong apologizing and taking her back into his own. “i’m so sorry-” he bowed.

“no, no, it’s okay. she must be tired- uh- would you like some help?” chan offered a helping hand, but taeyong was sure he had other duties to attend to, being the leader of his group and all.

“no! please, i got it from here. thank you for catching her, though, you have no idea what yuta would have done to me if something happened- uh, i’m getting ahead of myself. have a good night.” he noticed how he began rambling on, but chan paid no mind to it.

laughing and keeping the air light, chan nodded his head and bowed, about to walk away after wishing him a safe trip back to the dorms; but that was when lian decided to wake up from her slumber.

“huh?” she looked at taeyong cluelessly, but chan caught her eye. it was then that she noticed johnny’s grey zip up was halfway down her arms, spaghetti strapped tank top (pretty revealing) on full display.

she hastily pulled the sleeves up and looked at chan awkwardly, bowing to him and proceeding to ask taeyong if they were going home.

taeyong nodded his head and put a hand on her shoulder, “yeah, the car is waiting outside. taeil’s in the backseat with your pillow.” he smiled.

lian’s smiled back with a toothy grin, clapping her hands excitedly as she now knew she would be able to sleep on the way home. again realizing chan was watching, she looked back to him.

“it was nice meeting you!” lian waved her hand at him, grabbing onto taeyong’s arm and gently dragging him towards the door leading outside. he complied, but not without shouting yet another “thank you!” to chan, who was still standing in the same spot.

crush percentage out of 100: 90%

CHOI SOOBIN, TOMORROW X TOGETHER

duration: october 2018 — present

soobin was really able to learn more about the different variety of idols in the industry when he first joined bighit, and that surely included lian. he admired her so much; she became one of the people he looked up to most.

she was the only female member in a group that included eighteen other men, how could he not immediately think the highest of her after finding that out?

he would keep up with her scheduling and make sure to listen in on her radio show appearances so he could stay updated. he even bought all of her solo albums so he could put her photocard in the back of his phone case!

do fans know?: yes

moas aren’t even able to count on their fingers the amount of times soobin has said lian was his ideal type or his #1 crush. like, the first couple appearances he had on camera post debut, her photocard was literally still in his phone case.

“moas are asking if you still have a crush on lian-sunbaenim.” yeonjun nodded his head towards soobin, the members of txt all sitting comfortably on the floor of a practice room.

soobin lightly brushed his hair out of his face as he nodded his head, “yeah, she’s gotten even prettier lately. have you see her new music video?” beomgyu nodded excitedly.

“it’s super good! the album is amazing, as well.” he beamed at the phone that was filming them and clapped his hands.

“yah, don’t get too excited; soobinnie will get jealous~” yeonjun teased. soobin playfully hit his hyung on the shoulder and told him to be less embarrassing, a small blush now resting on his dimpled cheeks.

hueningkai and taehyun both laughed at their leader, agreeing that lian has certainly gotten prettier, if that was even possible. the topic was soon over as they began talking about something else, but moas definitely added that into their list of “soobin fanboying over lian” moments.

look forward to the fifteen million new youtube videos about it!

current status: acquaintances, idol x fan

( FIRST MEETING ) soobin almost jumped straight out of his seat when he noticed the goddess herself, lian, walk into the section him and his group were currently in. he watched her bow to the members of itzy before sitting next to them and placing a fluffy blanket onto her lap.

she had just finished performing, and he was still shaking at how perfect it was played out; the sparkly outfits, the amazing choreography, her powerful vocals yet again never disappointed.

the curfew for underage idols now being hit, soobin and yeonjun both bid goodbye to their younger members as lian, yeji and lia did the same for ryujin, chaeryeong and yuna.

the three girls sitting in front of their section soon ran out of things to talk about while waiting for bts to perform their stage, a comforting silence falling upon them. lian allowed her eyes to wonder around her surroundings and ended up unconsciously turning around and staring right at the two members of txt that were left.

yeonjun seemed to have paid no mind to her lingering gaze, but soobin on the other hand could have sworn his heart dropped out of his ass at that very moment. lian, now shaken out of her thoughts, noticed how creepy she probably looked.

bowing in apology, she quickly turned around to talk with lia once again in order to distract herself from the embarrassment that was currently enveloping her whole.

once he knew lian was too invested in her conversation to notice his quiet squeal, he excitedly began bouncing his legs up and down on the cold floor and repeatedly hit yeonjun’s arm.

“huh, what? what’s wrong?” confusion took over his face, wondering why soobin was practically having a heart attack next to him.

“hyung- she looked at me! right at my face! lianna bae looked at me!” yeonjun couldn’t help but scoff at how incredibly excited soobin seemed to be at such a little thing, but it was cute.

crush percentage out of 100: 78%

KIM TAEHYUNG, BANGTAN SONYEONDAN

duration: somewhere in 2019 — present

taehyung has seen lian here and there whenever he browsed twitter on his secret account, and he’s definitely noticed the constant shipping and dating rumours that went on between their fandoms.

the fanwars, the manips — they’ve all been seen by him at some point in time; but he has to admit that from the manips he’s been able to get a good look at, him and lian would actually make a pretty nice looking couple.

but you didn’t hear that from him tf :)

do fans know?: kind of

the calming beat of lian’s “my friend” played in the background of taehyung’s vlive, the viewers all watching him eat peacefully and answer some of their questions.

“are you a fan of lian?” taehyung slowly read out the question as he tried to slurp some of his soup up at the same time. “yes, i like her music a lot..” he trailed off, once again focusing on finishing his soup.

he ate his last spoonful shortly after, continuing his sentence, “i noticed she likes to experiment a lot.. it’s admirable.” he smiled fondly and switched to another song on his playlist after “my friend” ended.

“uh, she’s also really pretty; she fits my ideal type well.” he allowed himself to giggle, somewhat playing it off so the atmosphere on the stream stayed comfortable.

the topic of lian never reappeared that night, fortunately for him, but when he was chaotically woken up the next morning by jungkook, he saw at least five headlines about how he admitted to having a crush on lian.

current status: friends (?)

( FIRST MEETING ) venturing off and losing his members during isac was never taehyung’s intention, but he was able to see some of his friends, so it wasn’t exactly a bad thing. he met a few idols and befriended them, trading phone numbers with a couple new people before heading off to regroup with his six roommates.

on his way there, however, a girl with green sweatpants and a white long sleeved t-shirt caught his eye. he recognized her as nct’s only female member, who was currently running around with seulgi of red velvet.

if he was being completely honest with himself, he’d love to join in on the fun they looked like they were having, but he instead continued on with his journey towards bts. even after a couple minutes of searching around the large stadium he was still unable to find his members.

eventually giving up on his mission, he just decided to back to wherever he last saw some entertainment. he found himself now engaged in a conversation with johnny suh, looking back at lian every now and then to see if she’s gone anywhere.

after a little while, johnny seemed to have caught on, “why are you staring at lian?” taehyung jumped at the question, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly and turning to fully look at the older male beside him.

“uh, i can ask her to come over here if you want. i’ll be a wingman,” johnny winked playfully at the fellow idol, and went over to grab lian before taehyung was able to give a solid answer.

“hey, lian, taeyong wants to talk to you.” he grabbed her hand, and began to drag her towards the bts member, who was literally shitting his pants. seulgi on the other hand, was following the two to wherever lian needed to be, not quite ready to leave.

“noona, go away.” johnny lightly pushed seulgi away from lian, being a shot an “i’m incredibly offended, you’re dead to me” look as as she stomped away from them and over to joy and wendy.

lian silently followed johnny to where “taeyong” was but instead she was met with the face of kim taehyung. she looked back up at johnny with confusion written all over her features, but he shrugged his shoulders and walked away as well.

now, they were just standing there awkwardly looking at each other with nothing to say. “uh, hi, you’re not taeyong.” lian laughed to break the ice, taehyung following shortly after. “yeah, i don’t know what he was trying to do here.” lian nodded in agreement.

lian suddenly became aware of all the fans in the audience and the numerous amounts of fansites that probably had their cameras facing directly at her.

she was able to wrap up her conversation with taehyung pretty quickly, making a mental note in her head of the phone number he’d given her so they could talk later.

once taehyung walked away as he’d finally caught sight of yoongi, lian stomped over to the member of nct 127 and roughly pushed johnny into jungwoo, but he was far too strong to be toppled over like she wanted.

“you idiot, why would you do that? that was so awkward, i hate you and i’m not cooking for you ever again.” johnny simply laughed and ruffled her hair, turning back to hyuck, who was also laughing at her.

she huffed as she was engulfed into a hug by yuta, who almost immediately asked what the hell they were talking about over there.

crush percentage out of 100: 40%

#lian: relationships #nct addition #nct female member #nct 127 #nct #nct dream #wayv #kim taehyung #bang chan #lianna bae #choi soobin #eric sohn #nct 127 added member #nct 127 female member #nct dream added member #nct dream female member #nct 22nd member #nct 24th member

117 notes · View notes

angelsswirl · 3 years

Text

Icarus

Summary: You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend.

If you should fall

From your pink sky

Just know you'll fall into my arms, every single night

Icarus babe

Requested: Yes

Word Count: idk, a decent amount?

Title Song: Icarus by Max Lawrence

Rating: Mature, but the smut wont be graphic because I don't think that fits what I've written here. It's more implied than anything

Notes: I hope you enjoy it!

...................

You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend. You weren't. You knew this as fact.

And that isn't to say, it never happened for other people. That it never worked out. No. You just knew that it wouldn't work out for you. Things like that rarely did.

You had prayed, and wished, and hoped that this would all work out. But all of your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And you couldn't say you were surprised.

Park Chaeyoung was your best friend.

She knew that. You didn't have to tell her.

She was the person you told everything to. The person you did everything with. The person you lived for.

Park Chaeyoung was the love of your life.

She did not know that. You weren't going to tell her.

She was the person you dreamed about at night. She was the person you fantasized about in the day. She was the person you breathed for.

But.

She would never know. Because you would never tell her. Living in your truth by yourself seemed a much better option then speaking your truth and being denied of it.

You're not afraid to admit you're not very strong when it comes to love. But you are afraid to admit that for her, you would try to be.

~•~

"Watching you two together makes me sad." Jennie said out of nowhere.

You frowned at her. Rosé had run off to God knows where minutes prior, leaving just you and Jennie standing in the corner of someone else's livingroom during a house party.

It gross and sticky and hot and most definitely not your scene, but Rosé had practically begged you to come along, and return you had practically begged Jennie to be your buffer. And maybe even your sober coach as well.

You didn't trust yourself, alone with Rosé and alcohol in your system.

"What are you talking about?" You and Jennie are standing close enough to each other that you don't have to shout of the pumping bass of som Top 40 song, but you definitely can't whisper either.

Jennie rolled her eyes. She was bored. She really only tagged along to be a good friend. This wasn't her scene either. That was one of the reasons you two got along so well. You both hated and loved the same things.

Sometimes, you think if maybe Jennie wasn't straighter than a steel beam, then maybe she'd be the best friend that you'd have fallen in love with.

But that wasn't what the cards said for you.

"You and Chae. It's like watching those 'arms of the angels' or whatever commercials. You know with the hurt, homeless puppies?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes, "Well, I'm sorry I can't serve to be your entertainment 24/7."

"Oh, I didn't say this wasn't entertaining. It's just also sad. Like, what's the hold up, just grab her face and kiss her."

"I'm sure to her it would be like if I just grabbed your face and kissed you."

"No, that would imply she's straight and not head over ass in love with you. Both of which, I know not to he true for her in the slightest."

"She's not in love with me, Jennie."

"And I'm not sweating through my clothes right now." She replied sarcastically.

You only shook your head and took another sip of your lukewarm beer.

"Riddle me this, Y/N. If Chaeyoung isn't in love with you then why does she look at you like she would stop breathing if you were ever out of her sight? If Chaeyoung isn't in love with you then why does she treat you like you'll melt away? If Chaeyoung isn't love with you then why are you the only thing she talks about when you're not around?"

You shook your head profusely, "Chaeyoung is like that with everyone. She's sweet and nice and flirty with everyone. And that's exactly why it's time for me to finally get over her."

Jennie nodded along silently. You got the feeling she was only pretending to agree with you.

"Ok, well then, you know what the first step to getting over someone is. Get under someone else. How about the girl over there? She's been staring at you since we got here." Jennie pointed to a tall, admittedly beautiful woman across the room from you. She wasn't looking at you at the moment, but you had noticed her staring earlier as well.

Despite all of what you just said, you'd sooner rather die than get over Rosé but you were stubborn and needed to prove a point to Jennie.

"Hold my beer." Jennie did so with a curious smirk on her face.

You walked your way over to the woman, dodging elbows and sloshing drinks. She saw you coming, a soft smile engulfing her lips.

"Hi." She said some what softly.

"Hey."

"Not to be creepy or anything, but I noticed you when you walked in, and I sort of couldn't help myself but to stare at you all night. You're beautiful, "She paused, "My name is Lisa, by the way."

"I-it's not creepy. I'm Y/N....want to dance?"

"I loved to."

You grabbed Lisa's hand and all but dragged her onto the dancefloor. This must have been where the drunkenness set in. You turn around on your own accord, pressing your back into Lisa's front. Swaying your hips to the pounding in your ears, because you definitely cannot hear the music anymore.

~•~

"Where's, Y/N?" Rosé asked Jennie as she met her. She handed her the water she had picked up for the three of them.

Jennie pointed in your direction with a hum.

Rosè watched silently as you grinded on the stranger.

"I was gone for 5 minutes..."

"You snooze, you lose, I guess." Jennie felt bad for acting so cavalier, but at this point, the only way to get you what you wanted was to be completely honest.

Rosé didn't exactly know what to think of that. Or rather it was hard for her to think anything when you were dancing seductively with someone pointedly not her.

The emotions that come with it are hard to pick through as well. Hurt, anger, jealousy, and maybe she's even a bit turned on because she finds you immensely sexy.

Whatever the case may be, she decided that she can't sit around and just watch. No that would hurt too much. She's gotta stop this. She's gotta fix this.

~•~

Chaeyoung was never supposed to fall in love with her best friend. At least she doesn't think she was supposed to. There's no real way to be sure.

And that isn't to say that she's not sure if she loves you. She's 100% sure about that. It's to say that, how is she supposed to know if you love her back.

She had prayed and wished and hoped that you would see the signs that absolutely poured out of her whenever you were near. But, all of her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And she couldn't say she was surprised.

You were her best friend.

You knew that. She didn't have to tell you.

You were the person she confided in. The person who knew her deepest, darkest secrets. The person she breathed every breath for.

You were the love of her life.

You didn't know that. She had been trying to tell you.

You were the person she gave herself pep talks in the mirror for. The person she put on her most expensive outfits for. The person she would live a thousand lives for.

But.

You were oblivious. Sometimes, it seemed like you didn't even want to know. Chaeyoung didn't want to live in her truth by herself. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But keeping that to herself seemed a much better option than making you uncomfortable and losing you as a friend.

She's not afraid to admit she's in love with the very fiber of your being. But she is afraid to admit that, even if she wasn't, you'd still have her wrapped around your finger.

~•~

"Get away from her." It's harsher than she intended and it definitely startled you, but it got the point across.

"Chae?" You questioned as you were practically yanked to Rosé's side.

"Don't grab her like that." Lisa said with a frown.

Rosé's resolve slipped for a second. Maybe she shouldn't have grabbed you but that was besides the point now.

"I said stay away from her."

Lisa put her hands up in mock surrender, "Look. Sorry. Didn't know she had a girlfriend."

"She's no-" Lisa walked deeper into the throng of people before you could finish your sentence.

You turned back to Chaeyoung with a frown.

"What the hell was that, Chae?"

That was a good question. One that she didn't exactly have an answer to. She glanced down to where her hand was still gripping your forearm. She let go silently.

"I-um...."

With a roll of your eyes you pulled Rosé through the crowd. You searched for an empty room, quickly finding an unoccupied bedroom.

You close the door behind you two. Finally, some peace and quiet.

You crossed your arms and looked on expectantly.

"Well?"

Chaeyoung's face scrunched up, like she was losing a hard fought battle with herself, "You don't get it do you?

"Get what? Why you pulled me away from Lisa? No. I don't."

Rosé wiped her hands over her face roughly, "I did that be-because....your mine. Or at least, I want you to be."

Your arms fell to your sides, and your face softened into confusion.

"Huh?"

"God. I thought I was being obvious. I thought I was being so obvious." Chaeyoung shook her hand before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"But, you're flirty with everyone?"

"There's a difference between being nice to someone and being irrevocably in love with you."

You scrambled for any words, any explanation that could help you describe your confusion, and quite frankly you're embarrassment. It seemed as though you had put her in the same position you had thought she put you in.

"I-"

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way. As long as we can still be friends. I just had to finally tell you with words. We can still be friends right?" She doesn't look at you as she speaks. Her eyes casted down onto her wringing hands in her lap.

You move slowly towards her, grabbing her hands in her lap, "I love you too. I'm sorry I didn't say anything before-I thought...I thought...well it doesn't matter what I thought. I just-I love you too. A lot."

Chaeyoung looked up at you, a stray tear falling from her eye, "You do?"

You nod, "I do." You leaned in towards her, taking her bottom lip softly between yours. And she kisses you back, it isn't hungry, but it passionate, and somehow that serves to turn you on more.

You pushed her back slightly and straddled her lap.

Chaeyoung seemed to not know what to do with this turn of events, so you helped her along. Grabbing her hands and placing them on your ass.

"Oh."

You breathed out a chuckle into her mouth, "Yeah. Oh."

Chaeyoung let herself be pushed backwards onto the bed. She grabbed at the zipper to your dress. Fumbling with it until it finally did what she had been willing it today.

She pulled the dress delicately over your head, pushing it onto the floor beneath your feet, "You're beautiful." She whispered into your neck.

You tried to hide your blush by turning your head as much as you could away from her.

"Don't hide from me. Not anymore."

You turned back to her. Your blush covering your face in full force. Chaeyoung leaned in and kissed you again.

You fumbled with her clothing just as she did with yours. A sense of urgency encompassing the both of you. Like you only had so little time to make up for the time you lost.

You're not even sure how you ended up on your back and further up the bed, but you are sure that Rosé touching you, on the outside and inside feels like being thrown head first into a volcano. And you finally come undone it's just like an eruption that you can't (nor want) to stop.

The same goes for Rosé. Having you taste her feels like she's drowning in the world's shallowest pool. It's like swimming in a puddle. Impossible, yet satisfying beyond belief. And when she finally comes undone it's just being evaporated into the summer sun.

When it's all over and you're laying on top, amd underneath, and through each other, Rosé speaks up, "I love you."

"I know." And you did.

Because,

You and Chaeyoung were best friends, and you were always meant to fall in love.

You knew that, like you knew the back of Chaeyoung's hand.

#jesssica's fanfic #blackpink fanfic #blackpink #rosé x reader #rosé fanfic #request

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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

Note

I’d disagree with the anon that Paul was “incapable” of love, but I do agree he was very distanced, and pretty cruel (to women) when he was younger. (It was unfortunate they bought into the love at first sight myth, but he was also a charmer, and dropped affection and got colder after fucking them.)

But I just can’t see romantic interest on Paul’s end. I’m sure he loved John, but a lot of the “sexual/Romantic evidence” really can just be as construed as platonic love. I feel there may be some confirmation bias looking for “clues”. (Not an attack on anyone, but some of the analysises seem to try too hard, really).

He does make references, with the whole “calling him babe during concerts”, and “in bed” but that could just mean he’s not uncomfortable with coming off “gay”. He has a quote about it somewhere I think. He’s supportive of the community at any rate.

This is kind of my own bias, but at times I think he…plays it up a little during the present day? Again, I’m positive he did love John a lot, but with how he is, a charmer, good at manipulating his image, he knows there is a benefit to building up the “magical” Lennon McCartney dynamic. John’s dead, and the old conflicts have faded, so he has no reason not to. I don’t think he’s anti-social, or a psycho or anything, but he certainly does put a lot of thought into his image, especially now, with how he wants to leave his legacy.

I’m less knowledgeable about John, and the speculation about his mental illnesses, but on his end, I can certainly see it. Maybe he’s just blind, but the looks are very much…yeah. He does seem to rely Paul a lot, and hold him in very high regard (REGARDLESS of what those old male biographers might make of him). You just know he was suffering over Paul, poor bastard.

Not sure if anything happened. I think Paul knew though, and either ignored it, or was kind, knowing John wouldn’t act on it. OR he didn’t notice! With the whole “we shared beds A LOT. you would think he’d make a pass at me, darling~”

I guess that’s how I see it. I don’t really have strong feelings on the nature of their relationship, or want them to be “confirmed”, so I try to be as objective as possible! Not a shipper, but not a male biographer. In fact, I was very put off learning the ship was a thing at first! With every fan base “having to” ship the main male leads, that’s what I thought this was. But after three years, reading actual books, primary stuff, I’ve began to change my mind on its legitimacy, and this was my conclusion. But new information can always change!

(Sorry for the long long analysis, god! I just took my adderall and I should go eat! Feel free to block me for spam/harassment.)

Yeah, this is basically my big mclennon dilemma: did Paul love John?

Of course he loved him, but I mean did he harbour any homosexual feelings towards John - and I just go back and fourth on that a lot.

In my last response to an anon I wasn’t necessarily trying to argue that Paul was romantically/sexually attached to John, because all in all, I don’t believe he did - but it probably came off that way because I didn’t particularly like the way the anon had phrased some stuff (like calling him “a master manipulator” and “incapable of love”) and so I just sort of wanted to show that the relationship was more nuanced then just “john was simping for paul”. My overall point with that response was more so that whilst I think Paul struggles in showing real affection and emotions, I don’t think he was incapable of love prior to Linda. I think he did really love John (in whichever form of love you want to take it: romantically, platonically etc.)

And so my point I guess wasnt so much that Paul was always capable of love (because I think he did at least love his family, his close-friends, probably Jane etc.), but maybe more so that he was always capable of intimacy with another person, though he struggled with it.

But yeah, he was quite cruel to a lot of the girls he slept with in the 60s, but I wouldn’t say that suggests he was incapable of love (i know thats not what you’re saying but other people might interpret it through that lens) I would just say he was young, dumb, ridiculously rich and famous and not emotionally mature enough yet to really empathise with most of those girls. Not trying to completely excuse him, but like, i dunno, i always just try to view people from the most human perspective. Everyones an twat sometimes yknow

I also really struggle to see romance on Pauls behalf towards John - the only times I think “wait but maybe he did fancy john back” is when I read some of his lyrics (like in ‘Coming Up’, ‘Yvonne’s The One’, and to some extent ‘Here Today’ - though I think interpreting Here Today as strictly platonic love is still a valid interpretation). I mentioned this in a different post though, that analysing his lyrics just isnt particularly convincing for me, because it feels more like speculation - and also as someone who does write songs, I know that a lot of lyrics just arent as deep as we wish they were. It is really difficult to be truly introspective and honest in a song, without exaggerating or hyperbolising or fictionalising any autobiographical aspects.

I do see your point with Paul possibly playing up the “Lennon/McCartney m a g i c” - im not entirely sure how much I agree, but I do agree to some extent. I think he’s always been very image conscious, and being in what is probably the all-time most famous pop band definitely wouldve heightened that. Even as a teenager I think he’s always just had this natural charm about him, and that tends to stem I guess from a need to be liked; I think you can see it in every interview he’s ever done to be honest. Its not necessarily a bad thing, (because id take a charmer over a rude knobhead any day) but I guess it sort of just shows that Paul is flawed like everybody else. Also, just read @mothernatures-sons tags and I agree with her - Paul just knows when to be a nice person! Nothing wrong with that! It isnt manipulative like the last anon suggested, its just how most people are: polite :) Ive heard a lot of anecdotes from people who have worked with or met Paul and the majority of them say he was a just a nice guy. Not saying he was never an arsehole (cause yeah he was pretty cruel to those girls in the 60s) but I think overall, hes a pretty good guy 👍

On the other hand though, you could also say that superficial journalists are looking for superficial answers - and Paul knows what the people want to hear. But occasionally ill hear an interview that does seem more intimate then most - I havent listened to it in awhile, but the interview he did with Sean I remember felt more honest to me then most. And when he said he’d like to spend the day “in bed” with John, to me that felt like a genuine and fitting response. Because, whilst it has sexual connotations, it also just feels like he’s saying he’d just like to sit around, chat, dont chat, just whatever with John for a day. Like he would just like another moment of intimacy with him.

I think we are pretty much in agreement on most of this though! At first I was also like “nah, mclennon isnt real, teenage girls just love shipping guys!” (I am a teenaged girl and I can confirm this lol) but then it just sort of became apparent to me through reading more and more about their relationship that there probably was something more on Johns behalf. If John wasnt in love with Paul, then it feels as though a lot of things he said and did just dont add up (the big one for me is him marrying Yoko so soon after Paul married Linda - like I really cannot come up with a heterosexual explanation for that!)

But when it comes to Paul, though ill have moments of doubt, I dont think he was in love with John (homosexually) and I do think a lot of the evidence on Pauls behalf seems like a stretch (but like you, im not having a go at anyone, because I understand that it is easy to carried away, plus its fun - but realistically, most of Pauls evidence just is not convincing to me). He’s comfortable with his sexuality, and I really do try to respect that and not force a gay interpretation of quotes or songs from him, unless it is genuinely making me question his sexuality and mclennon.

PS dont worry, I didn’t take this is spam at all!! And also, I would never block someone just for disagreeing with me! I enjoy discussion and I think its good to engage with people who disagree with you! To be honest, id only block someone if they were purposely being a real arsehole <3

#mclennon #discussion

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

The Cinderella AU is back, and...ahhhh, my babiiiiies. *dissolves into a pile of happy goo*

The Winter Festival presented in Royaume is most strongly related to the celebrations for Saint Nicholas in French provinces such as Lorraine, which are held on December 6th and include lots of music and a parade led by Saint Nicholas (or Pere Noel, as he’s also called), the French alternative to Father Christmas and Santa Claus. Florence’s holiday likewise resembles Italy’s Feast Day, which is hosted on December 8th.

Back in the olden days, dancing wasn’t just done for fun -- it was considered a standard form of socializing. Prior to the 19th century, it was far more common for Europeans to dance in large groups that then switched partners frequently, as opposed to being locked onto a specific partner, and this applies to both formal gatherings and more informal ones. Strict pair dancing really came more in vogue in the early 1800′s with the German waltz, so during the Renaissance, one could expect to see a lot more swapping of partners at parties than one generally sees in the modern era. There were couple dances at that time, of course, such as the lavolta -- they just weren’t as popular as dances like the waltz became at formal gatherings later on. Country dancing, or dances performed at informal gatherings, was generally seen as more lighthearted and easy for people to join in without being expert at it, while court dances, which were generally saved for more formal events, were much more performative and choreographed.

Carewyn’s dress in this sketch was strongly based off of this absolutely gorgeous dress, which was inspired by real Renaissance artwork.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

With the arrival of winter, Carewyn found herself busier than ever. The King and Queen of Royaume had ordered that the palace be fully furnished with holiday cheer, so Carewyn and the rest of the staff soon had their hands full, putting gold-trimmed garlands around every banister and decking every hall with holly and ivy. Carewyn wondered how in the world the King and Queen could afford such finery when they still couldn’t seem to scrounge up enough funds to have the proper tools and supplies in stock for their staff, let alone to give them proper food rations -- but from what Bill and Charlie told her, this wasn’t too uncommon.

“It’s like this every year,” said Charlie, sounding very surly. “The royals and the court always pig out on the most sumptuous feasts, and then we have to pay for it after the fact. Just you wait until New Year’s -- the Queen always likes hosting a huge masked ball to ‘start the new year off right’ and the nobles end up leaving the worst messes behind...”

Bill sighed. “I don’t think it’s all selfishness on their part, really. I think it’s to try to lift the Prince’s spirits, more than anything. You know he isn’t allowed to leave the castle grounds...and I’m sure he no doubt hears all about the Winter Festival and all the other celebrations in town around this time of year, from the staff. The holiday season can’t be that much fun, when you’re forced to sit and watch from the sidelines...”

Andre did indeed seem to be in a forlorn mood. Whenever Carewyn caught sight of him walking through the palace gardens with her cousin Iris, he seemed to always be looking away, off into the distance, while Iris tried to engage him in conversation. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel sorry for him -- as much as his parents clearly were spending beyond their means, it seemed to be largely so that they could try to shield him from the War going on outside. It wasn’t a good decision, Carewyn thought, but a slightly understandable one...and more importantly, Andre himself had no hand in either the staff’s struggles or his own captivity.

One day Carewyn was polishing the floors in one of the guest suite, singing the song Orion had given her for the second time that day, when the partially ajar door was very quickly shoved open. Carewyn looked up just in time to see a ruffle of bed curtains, as if someone had leapt onto the guest bed and drawn the curtains so that they were hidden from view.

Carewyn opened her mouth, ready to ask who was there, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice echoing down the hallway outside.

“Your Highness?”

Iris?

Carewyn frowned deeply. She heard heels clapping down the hall, and sure enough, her brown-haired, slender cousin came into view through the open door.

Iris caught sight of Carewyn inside the guest suite, and her confused expression instantly turned ugly.

“Have you seen the Prince?” she demanded.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows innocently. “No.”

“Well, if you do, tell him that Lady Iris is looking for him,” said Iris waspishly. “And see that you don’t speak to him either.”

“I don’t quite know how I can tell his Highness that you’re looking for him, if I’m not allowed to speak to him,” said Carewyn rather coolly.

“You know full well what I mean,” Iris snarled under her breath.

Eying the almost completely polished floor, she rather pointedly strode right through the part Carewyn had just finished cleaning, dragging her heels to leave long, streaking footprints through it.

“Prince Henri might like using you as his little dress-up doll, but don’t think it means he actually likes you,” she whispered coldly. “Why would a prince ever be interested in a servant girl with no dowry or prospects?”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon the streaks on the floor before flitting up onto Iris’s face with a very stony look. She was very tempted to remind Iris that she had no interest in kissing up to the richest man that would have her, and that a man and a woman didn’t have to be romantically interested in each other to engage in conversation...but, honestly, she didn’t see much point. She wouldn’t be able to soothe Iris’s jealousy no matter what she said, and Carewyn quite frankly liked the thought of Iris leaving far more than to try to make her feel better.

Satisfied that she’d gotten the last word, Iris picked up the skirts of her lavender brocade gown and strode quickly from the room and down the hall in search of Andre.

Carewyn remained on the floor for a moment, waiting for the sound of her cousin’s footsteps to fade away. Then she slowly rose to her feet, walked over to the door, and closed it, before she got back down on her hands and knees so she could start cleaning the part of the floor Iris had slid her feet through.

“Andre?” whispered Carewyn without looking up. “Is that you, hiding in there?”

There was a rustle. Then the bed curtains parted, to reveal Andre sitting on his knees on the bed.

“You knew it was me?” he murmured.

“I thought it might be,” said Carewyn, offering him a small gentle smile even though she didn’t fully look up from her work.

Andre looked almost guilty. “...Thank you for covering for me, Carewyn. I don’t mean to insult your cousin, I just...need some space.”

“It’s all right. It can be draining, not to have any time to yourself, even when you are around people you like. And really, I didn’t lie -- I hadn’t seen you, however much I thought I might know where you were,” she added with a wry smile.

Andre tried to smile, but it came out rather forced and faded very quickly. He glanced from Carewyn to the closed door and back.

“...Does she always talk to you like that? Iris?”

Carewyn paused in the work and looked up. Andre’s face was twisted in a very troubled frown.

The maidservant returned her focus to the floor so as not to look at him, scrubbing at a particularly dirty streak.

“Not always,” she said mildly.

Sometimes she says worse things.

Andre’s eyes narrowed slightly, becoming sadder still. “Carewyn...I had no idea. I mean, I understand your mother was estranged from your family and your father skipped town, but...Iris is your cousin. Even if she’s nobility and you’re not, the way you talked about your family, I thought...”

He trailed off. He felt incredibly foolish, for not having questioned whether Iris and Carewyn’s relationship was really that good. KC had even complained about her mother trying to matchmake her with Carewyn’s cousin, Arsen Dupont, hadn’t she? Did that mean that all of Carewyn’s family talked to her the way Iris did?

Carewyn, however, was very stoic in her response. “Please don’t judge Iris based on how she speaks to me, Andre.”

Grandfather would be furious if I were the reason Iris didn’t marry Andre. The only reason that Iris and Andre shouldn’t marry should be Iris herself, and her own stupidity.

“Good people don’t have to get along with everyone, not even their own family. The way Iris speaks to me is just as much my own doing as it is hers -- and truly, her words are just words. They don’t injure me. If you enjoy her company, then you mustn’t judge her too harshly for something like this.”

Judge her harshly for other reasons.

Andre didn’t look very comforted. He adjusted himself on the bed so that he was sitting on the edge with his feet on the floor.

“...To be honest...I don’t really enjoy it that much,” he muttered.

Carewyn looked up again.

“She’s amiable enough, I suppose,” said Andre uncomfortably, “but...well, I was curious to meet her because it sounded like she enjoyed fashion and might have some good ideas for me to try out. And she had a few -- I mean, I still don’t think ash gray suits you at all...but I ended up finding a rather nice shiny pewter fabric for your shoes, and -- well, you’ll see it when they’re done. I think you’ll like them. But even with that...it just feels like, a lot of the time, she’s only saying what she thinks I want to hear, rather than what she really thinks! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike flattery -- but I already get that all the time at court. Especially around this time of year...”

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders dropping as he rested his arms in his lap.

“I have plenty of servants and subjects and...well, people who only want to be around me for my crown,” he said dejectedly. “I guess all I was really hoping for was...”

“A friend.”

Andre looked up at Carewyn in surprise. She’d put down her rag on the edge of her bucket, her eyes full to the brim with compassion.

Within seconds, the Prince’s face had burst into a delighted, relieved expression.

“Yes! Oh, I’m so glad you understand, Carewyn. Erika always says I shouldn’t complain so much...and I know she’s right -- I have a lot to be grateful for. It’s just...”

“You can have a lot to be grateful for and still be missing what you need,” said Carewyn very primly. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more or be more. It’s how you express that feeling that matters.”

Andre cocked his eyebrows curiously. “Express it?”

Unable to meet the Prince’s eye straight-on, Carewyn fixed her ponytail so that some of the hair coming out of it was restrained again.

“Well...to Lady Rath’s point, complaining about a problem, or wishing it would go away, never really solved anything. My mother used to say that ‘dreamers never make a dream come true’ -- if you want something to happen, then you need to act on it, not just sit around and wish that things might change.”

That’s why I can’t just sit back and wait for the War to end so Jacob can come home. If he’s out there on the battlefield, in pain and alone, I need to find out where and figure out some way to reach him.

Andre considered this for a long moment. At last his face split into a huge, blazing white smile.

“You’re right! You’re absolutely right, Carewyn...”

He leapt off the bed, bent down to get down on Carewyn’s level, and grabbed both of her shoulders.

“Will you go to the Winter Festival with me?”

Carewyn was taken aback. “What?”

“I’ve never been, not even once, even though I’ve always wanted to,” said Andre, his eyes bright with excitement. “Of course we’d probably have to be sneaky about it...but the courtiers will be plenty occupied all night here, with Mother’s ball. There are plenty of times I’ve been able to sneak out of the ballroom and no one’s ever found me, even when they were actively looking. I have the perfect purple brocade doublet I could wear...and I’m sure your new shoes will be stunning with the dark blue velvet gown I made for you...”

“Andre,” said Carewyn, a bit taken aback by his enthusiasm, “hold on. Brocade and velvet...those are hardly things to wear outside the palace, if you don’t want to be noticed.”

Andre blinked. “They’re not?”

“No,” Carewyn said very firmly, her eyes narrowing reproachfully as she slid out of his grip. “Only people of status and wealth wear those materials. People in town wear cottons, linens -- wool -- and they’re far simpler than even the uniform I’m wearing right now. You and I would stick out like sore thumbs, especially since all of the nobility will be at the Queen’s Ball. I doubt we’d last more than five minutes in town before we got caught.”

Andre deflated visibly.

“...I see,” he said, disappointed. “If only I’d thought of this sooner...I could probably have made us something else, if the Festival wasn’t the day after tomorrow...”

Carewyn bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t love the thought of going against the King and Queen’s wishes, and of course spending time with Andre was uncomfortable considering she was supposed to stay out of Iris’s way, but...well, she agreed with Bill. It had to feel pretty rotten, to be stuck on the sidelines, watching everyone else have fun and longing to join in, during the holidays. Carewyn had never really gone to the Winter Festival as a kid since her mother didn’t like large crowds and she’d preferred spending quiet time at home with her and Jacob...but Andre clearly wanted to go to the Festival so badly...

“...I could...always go pick something up, in town,” Carewyn said slowly, her eyes lingering on Andre’s shoulder rather than his face. “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend at the castle gate around noon...I could always convince him to walk with me to look for some festival clothes for both of us. Then you could always tailor what I bring back, in case it doesn’t fit correctly...”

Andre looked like Carewyn had just presented him with a unicorn for a Christmas present.

“Oh, Carewyn...you’re absolutely brilliant, that’s what you are! Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of money -- buy whatever you think is best -- ”

And that was how Carewyn got roped into going to the Winter Festival. But really, she knew she couldn’t in good conscience let Andre sneak out on his own...and despite herself, her heart was much too gentle for her to even think of trying to tell him not to go, however much trouble she knew both of them would be in if they got caught.

All the more reason to make sure we don’t, she told herself.

When she met Orion at the gate that day, she told him she had some shopping to do before the Festival. Orion had quirked an eyebrow when she had him hold up several peasant-worthy outfits over himself so Carewyn could examine them, but Carewyn refused to tell him who she was shopping for, merely that he was around Orion’s height.

“Can I take this to mean you’ll be attending the Festival after all, my lady?” Orion asked, his eyes trailing over her face with some interest. “I believe you told Ginny Weasley that you’d be too busy.”

Carewyn avoided his eye as she took the outfit he was holding from him and placed both it and a forest green and white dress she’d found on the counter so she could pay.

“I am -- but I’ve opened some time in my schedule for it all the same, at least in the evening.”

Something flickered in the back of Orion’s eyes. Was it curiosity, or was it disappointment? “The gentleman you’re shopping for must be someone special, for you to reschedule your plans.”

Carewyn couldn’t fight back a proud huff. “He’s special only in the way that he needs help, and I’m the person who can give it.”

She took the clothes from the cashier and started heading out of the shop. Orion followed along behind, his black eyes running over her face even while she refused to look at him and narrowing ever-so-slightly.

“...I see.”

Andre was pleasantly surprised by what Carewyn had brought back for them. Although yes, they were made of far less expensive fabrics than he was used to and lacked decoration, he was very pleased with the colors. He’d mentioned having a purple doublet before, so he wasn’t surprised she picked that color of tunic for him, but he was very happy when she picked out some very handsome emerald green trousers trimmed with gold embroidery to go with them, as well as some tall black leather boots with gold buckles. Andre hadn’t really put purple and green together much before, but he really liked how the shades looked together. Carewyn’s dress, however, he did make one large alteration to besides just the fit -- adding a rather pretty trim to the front and back of bodice and the bottom of the skirt made of thick silvery linen ribbon. (He claimed that it was to help the dress better blend with her new pewter gray silk slippers, but Carewyn also just suspected he couldn’t help himself, seeing how plain the dress she’d gotten was.)

The night of the Festival, Andre went down to the Queen’s Winter Ball. After going through the motions for a half hour or so to throw off suspicion, Andre slipped away, and -- after quickly changing into his peasant clothes -- met Carewyn by the gate of the palace. When he got there, he found Bill, Charlie, and their little sister Ginny waiting just across the street, ever so “casually” looking away from the castle wall as Carewyn carefully opened the gate and she and Andre slipped out. Once the gate was closed, the three Weasleys swooped down on Carewyn and Andre, Charlie grabbing Andre’s arm and Ginny grabbing Carewyn’s, and the group flooded into town to meet up with the rest of the Weasley clan.

From the moment they arrived, Andre looked happier and more laid-back that Carewyn had ever seen him. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel like just walking around the Festival, surrounded by ordinary people who had no idea who he really was, made this the best day of the young Prince’s life...and she had to admit, as much as she could take or leave parties, his enthusiasm was infectious. When Ginny suggested they go dance, Andre was absolutely thrilled at the thought of learning how to do a country dance, and pressured Carewyn to show him how. Carewyn hardly thought herself the best choice for this, but found it difficult to say no, seeing how excited he was. Once Carewyn, Charlie, Andre, and Ginny jumped into the fray, though, she did find herself having fun. The steps were actually pretty easy to follow along to, especially compared to the sorts of court dances she’d always seen her older cousins practicing at the Cromwell estate, before any private balls they were invited to.

It didn’t take long, though, for someone to spot Andre. In the middle of one of their dances, a hand came from out of nowhere and snatched a hold of the back of the Prince’s purple tunic, pulling him back out of line.

“Hey!” yelped Andre. “What are you -- ?!”

He looked up, to see the rather tall and foreboding frame of his fencing instructor.

Andre gave a very weak smile. “Aha...hi, Erika.”

Erika’s expression was very stony. Carewyn, Charlie, and Ginny immediately hopped out of line and over to them. Standing right behind Erika and dressed in a sapphire blue cloak that obscured her elegantly trimmed linen dress was KC.

“Lady Rath!” said Charlie with his best attempt at a winning smile. “KC! What a nice...surprise! Heh...”

KC raised her eyebrows coolly. “Hello, Charlie...Carewyn.”

Bill had rushed over too, sensing trouble.

“It’s not their fault, KC,” said Andre quickly, “I can explain -- ”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said KC, her arms crossing as she looked at Andre. “We know full well it isn’t their fault.”

“I say it is,” said Erika rather bluntly, her eyes flashing dangerously at Carewyn and the Weasleys, “considering they encouraged it.”

“It isn’t their fault because they wouldn’t have felt able to say ‘no’ to the Crown Prince of Royaume, even if they’d wanted to,” KC pointed out logically.

Andre suddenly looked very guilty. He glanced from the Weasleys to Carewyn, almost silently asking if he’d pressured them into any of this. Charlie, in response, spoke rather forcefully.

“Well, frankly, we did want to! Andre deserves a fun holiday, for once. Reckon it’s a helluva lot better than that stuffy old ball going on up there.”

He jabbed a thumb behind him in the direction of the palace.

“The Prince’s safety is more important than a fun holiday,” Erika shot back coldly, “as are the King and Queen’s orders. You’d do well to remember that, Weasley.”

“Erika, please,” said Andre desperately. “No one from Florence would dare come this far west of the border...and even if they did, none of them would recognize me, dressed like this. And you said it yourself, KC, it’s likely they won’t attack our forces anyway until after the 8th -- that’s when their winter holiday is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” granted KC with a frown. Her voice became much more thoughtful as she added, “Though if they wanted to be really clever, they’d strike on or the morning immediately after a holiday, when everyone’s got their guard down...”

Carewyn faced Erika with as much conviction as she could, even though she was completely eclipsed by the taller and stronger woman’s shadow.

“I realize the Prince’s safety is important,” she said in a very low voice, so as not to be overheard, “but if there truly was anyone who meant to target him, wouldn’t they be more likely to look for him at the Winter Ball, rather than here among the peasantry? And considering that the palace is only about five blocks away from here and he’s in the company in one of the castle’s most capable guards,” she nodded in Bill’s direction, “and both his combat instructor and our army’s chief military strategist...I’d say that he’s quite well protected.”

Erika gave Carewyn a beady look.

“People say you’re nothing like your family, Cromwell,” she said rudely, “but I think they’re full of it. You’re just as pretentious and fawning as the rest of them.”

She nonetheless released the back of Andre’s collar.

“I’ll stay for two hours only,” she muttered to him sourly. “When I go, you go.”

Andre beamed from ear to ear.

KC and Erika weren’t much for dancing, but they did loosen up in time, while sitting with the rest of the Weasleys and enjoying some of the fresh sugar-dusted crepes, mince pies, cocoa, and coffee. Before long as well, Andre had mastered the art of the country dance. Ginny was thrilled to have someone else who was just as excited to dance as she was, and -- bless her heart -- the twelve-year-old treated Andre with the same amount of cheer and respect as she probably would’ve anyone else, just like her brothers did. She even ended up giving Andre pointers about how to do the dances better. Carewyn soon found herself getting pretty tired, but Ginny, Charlie, and Andre all kept pulling her back into line with them, and she bit back her exhaustion if only to see them smiling a little longer. It had been a really long time since she’d been able to make anyone smile like that, while doing so little -- it made herself feel that little bit better about herself, and made her stand just that little bit taller.

While dancing to a particular song, the woman playing the fiddle sped up very abruptly, changing tempo. Soon everyone was rotating in chaotic, joyful circles, switching partners constantly. As to be expected in country dancing, a few people made mistakes that they had to correct, but nobody really cared. One mistake, though, was Carewyn losing her footing and tripping over her skirt. The new gray silk shoes Andre had made for her, as lovely and comfortable as they were, were more like slippers than any proper outdoor footwear and didn’t have great traction, so she would’ve fallen right off her feet if someone hadn’t suddenly appeared behind her and caught her with an arm gently looped around her back.

It was Orion. He was dressed in clothes that were nicer than usual, but still modest, including some brown suede boots and a handsome forest green doublet that ended up being the same shade as Carewyn’s dress, though he still lacked the high-collared undershirt one would usually see from a nobleman.

“Forgive me for catching you twice, my lady,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Carewyn couldn’t help but smile. “At least you weren’t hurt after throwing yourself under me this time -- ”

They couldn’t continue the conversation, though, without getting locked up in the midst of the group dance. Carewyn was forced to twirl in sequence, just to avoid another pair moving on through.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Orion suddenly looked oddly wary, like a foal learning how to walk.

“I’m afraid I’ve never done this before,” he murmured, just barely dodging another pair of dancers.

Following the sequence, Carewyn rested an arm lightly around Orion’s waist, steering him in a circle.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as she offered him an encouraging smile. “It’s only a pattern...no one will complain if you make a mistake. Follow me.”

His face betraying some hesitance, Orion nonetheless found himself letting go, mirroring Carewyn in stylized turns and spirals through the dancing crowd.

Orion had come to the Festival because he’d guessed that the mysterious “guest” Carewyn was shopping for was -- in fact -- the Prince of Royaume, and thus this would be the perfect opportunity for Orion to meet him and get a better fix on his character. But even with this goal in his mind, he’d found his inner balance oddly disturbed, when he caught sight of Carewyn. She’d always been a rather pretty woman, but in the company of her friends -- smiling with such pure, undiluted happiness, at the sight of how happy they were -- her blue eyes sparkling with such soft emotion, every time they laughed -- her ginger hair flying free as a flag behind her as she twirled around them...it distracted him. It was an unwelcome distraction, one he was quick to scold himself for, before trying to relocate his center and return to the task at hand. And yet, when Carewyn lost her footing, he found himself once again throwing away his own internal balance and laser-pointed focus in favor of turbulent, emotional chaos...and soon they were dancing, and Orion found himself surfing in that chaos -- relishing that wild, but liberating warmth he felt coming off of her. Was it some magical aura she had, that made him feel like he was dancing with a blazing, soothing fire even as the snow began to fall overhead?

Carewyn Cromwell truly was a remarkable woman, to divert the Prince of Florence’s focus away from his one and only goal...and yet, as Orion danced with her, he couldn’t help but think...oh, if their world could be but a world where they could dance like this anywhere...even in Florence, where everyone knew his face...

When the dance came to an end, everyone clapped, and Carewyn and Orion moved off to the side together to sit with Bill, Ron, KC, and Erika. Erika was very suspicious of Orion from the off-set, finding him way too “pleasant” for her tastes, but Orion wasn’t the least bit offended. If anything, he said with a wry smile, her aggressive aura in some ways reminded him of a good friend of his. After several more rounds, Andre, Charlie, and Ginny finally came to sit down with the others for a quick break.

“Whew! I’m parched,” said Andre. He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Here,” said Bill.

He offered the Prince a stein of apple cider. Andre gulped down about half of it before lowering the stein, his mouth stretched into a broad smile.

“Oh, Carewyn, thank you for this,” he said, reaching out a hand to squeeze hers. “If I’d had any concept just how much fun this was, I would’ve come years ago.”

Carewyn smiled, looking genuinely touched. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Andre.”

Orion glanced from Carewyn to Andre and back. His face was very unreadable, but his black eyes had widened noticeably.

This must be him, he realized. Prince Henri.

The thought was a club to the back of the head, knocking some sense back into him after having gotten so thoroughly distracted. Orion’s thoughts moved very quickly as he watched the two interact.

“I am,” Andre said fervently, his eyes squinting slightly as he beamed. “And I hope you know how grateful I am...”

Something grimmer flickered over his face.

“...I hope you know...Iris was wrong, about how I see you.”

Carewyn was startled. “Andre...”

“I don’t just see you like a little dress-up doll,” said Andre very seriously, as he squeezed her hand. “You’re my friend, and a good one, at that. And for what it’s worth...” he smiled broadly, “...I’d say any royal should be proud, to have you on their arm.”

Carewyn was clearly a bit overwhelmed by the Prince’s complimentary words. Her gaze had drifted down to the table.

“...Thank you, Andre,” she said very softly.

Although her face was demure, her sparkling eyes and voice betrayed some deep, genuine emotion -- and despite himself, Orion felt some warm pride welling up in his chest, at the sound of it. Catching himself, Orion forced himself to return to the task at hand and lightly cleared his throat.

“Forgive me,” he said politely, “but I don’t think we’ve met.”

Carewyn looked from Andre to Orion quickly.

“Oh -- yes,” she said, “Andre...this is Orion. Orion, Andre.”

Andre’s eyes lit up at the name.

“So this is the infamous Orion you’ve been telling me about, KC!” he said, shooting a bright grin over at his cousin.

Orion raised his eyebrows curiously. “‘Infamous?’ I must wonder what she’s told you, for me to have earned that title.”

KC grinned. “Just that you saved Carewyn from a bucking horse, pulled her out of a ravine, and climbed over the castle wall twice just to visit her.”

Ginny’s freckled face lit up. “Orion, you did all that? That’s so romantic!”

Both Orion and Carewyn immediately tried to correct the record, but no one seemed to care much. Andre was laughing most of the time.

“Are you well-traveled, Orion?” asked Andre. “Judging by the way your doublet is distressed, I’d guess you’ve been to the Islands in the Southern Sea -- I’ve only seen such fabrics as imports.”

“I’m...afraid I haven’t, actually,” confessed Orion. “Though I have been to the Southern Sea.”

Florence’s castle was actually positioned on the shore, right by the sea. It was one of the few things Orion could say in its favor, even though there were times it made him long to cast off and never return.

Everyone seemed interested in this.

“You have?” said Charlie eagerly. “What’s it like?”

“Did you sail on a ship?” asked Ginny.

“Were you ever attacked by pirates?” added Ron.

“Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid,” Orion chuckled. “I’ve only seen it, not sailed it...at least, not yet.”

Carewyn’s red lips turned up into a full, pretty smile. “It must be beautiful, though.”

Orion turned to her, his own mouth spread in a grin. “It’s breathtaking. A seemingly endless void of blue that nonetheless sparkles as green as jade and as white as pearl. It’s as translucent as crystal, and yet so deep and mysterious that ships have been swallowed whole by it, and no man could ever discover all of its secrets. Its waves whisper to you as it ghosts the shoreline, and yet it can also roar and ravage like a beast, without warning or mercy. It can hypnotize you, draw you in...make you long to drown yourself in it, while simultaneously wanting it to spirit you away, over the horizon...”

Like your eyes.

Orion caught himself staring in them. Closing his eyes and bowing his head, he forced a soft laugh.

“Forgive me -- I’ve gotten carried away...”

“Not at all,” said Carewyn gently. She rested a hand lightly on top of his forearm. “It sounds wonderful.”

Orion found himself unsure of how to respond to her touch. He’d never really been around a lot of physical affection before, so he was at a bit of a loss of what to do in such a situation. Fortunately Carewyn withdrew not long after, and Orion tried to find his center of balance again by turning his focus back to Andre.

“...I must say, though...your attention to detail is impressive, Andre. I can see why you and Carewyn get along -- she also has an eye for hair and clothing pieces.”

“Of course she does,” said Charlie, sparing a playful smile in Carewyn’s direction. “Carey is our little lady, after all.”

Carewyn shot Charlie an attempt at a sardonic look, but it was foiled by the broad smile that had conquered her face.

“That she is!” Andre laughed.

“A lady with considerable grit, however,” said Bill, his mouth turned up in a wry smile not unlike Charlie’s. “I’ve never seen anyone else climb up onto a mantle, just to reach a chandelier.”

KC looked at Carewyn incredulously. “What? Why didn’t you get a ladder?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” said Carewyn primly, crossing her arms. “I had it under control.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled affectionately. “I’d say even an experienced soldier in the field would hesitate before climbing over a steep cliff and into a briar patch at the bottom of a ravine...wouldn’t you agree, Andre?”

Andre nodded. “I daresay so! Though I’ve never been to the battlefield myself, or met any soldiers...I would dearly like to, though.”

Orion frowned. “Like to?”

“Well, yes,” said Andre, his tone becoming more serious. “We could use all the help we can get out there...I’d love to feel like I could really help the war effort on the ground, rather than staying at home. Especially when my comfort is built on the backs of those who are hurting.”

Orion’s gaze fell down onto his hands as they clasped together on the table.

“...Your conviction is inspiring,” he said softly. “But believe me...a battlefield is not a place anyone should like to visit.”

Not long after, Erika rather abruptly rose to her feet and told Andre it was time to leave. The group all left the festival together, though Carewyn lingered behind with Orion, so as to try to give Andre cover for getting back inside the palace without anyone noticing.

Once they were alone, Orion once again found himself off-balance. He’d acknowledged before that Carewyn indeed was a person to be admired, as well as a person who could be admired by anyone...even him. He did admire her. He enjoyed her company -- he found her witty and engaging -- he identified with her independence, resilience, and determination -- he was struck by her compassion and utter selflessness. She was like him in so many ways, and yet she was methodical and insightful, as well as braver than a bear, despite her size. Her voice was so soothing, and yet it rippled with a kind of deep passion and emotion that it truly rivaled the deep, dark sea. And tonight especially...tonight, he kept catching himself staring...but none of that mattered. None of it should matter, in the face of achieving peace for Florence.

“She’s not on your side,” McNully’s words returned to him. “She’s on Royaume’s. Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion couldn’t help but feel as though using his head would be easier if he could more easily tell which way was up.

“I’m glad you came, Orion,” said Carewyn. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better dance instructor -- dancing isn’t really my area of expertise.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled mischievously. “Perhaps we shall simply have to dance again in the future, so that we might practice.”

Carewyn giggled. “Somehow I doubt either of us will be attending any grand balls in the future.”

Orion’s amused gaze softened as it trailed over her cold-kissed pink cheeks and along the snowflakes clinging to the ginger waves cascading down her back.

Carewyn tilted her head, her lips twisted up in a wryly questioning smile. “...What?”

Orion looked away quickly.

“Forgive me -- I merely...don’t recall ever having seen you wear your hair down before. It’s...different.”

Carewyn brought a hand through her hair absently. “Mm...yeah, I guess it would be. I don’t wear my hair down much, but...well, I figured for a casual event like this, it wouldn’t be a problem...”

“It’s no problem at all,” said Orion. He kept his tone as level as possible, even though he felt a flush creeping up his neck. “I was just thinking it was appropriate...to see you letting loose with your friends, the same day you chose to wear your hair free...”

He came to a stop, and Carewyn stopped too, turning around to face him properly. Orion reached out his hand and -- very tentatively -- took hers, holding it between their chests like a gentleman.

“...You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion murmured. “Free.”

Carewyn scanned Orion’s face, her eyes lingering on his before dipping into the corners of lips. Orion felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He wanted to kiss her hand, but...did he dare?

“She’s not on your team.”

“You reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?

“Mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

It was just too much. Orion couldn’t think, whenever his thoughts got too loud. Closing his eyes, he took several deep, measured breaths. Only once he’d brought his heart rate down did he open his eyes again.

“I should go,” he said at last, his voice coming out much more calmly than he felt.

His eyes flickered down to his hand holding hers again, but he’d already lost his nerve. He released her hand, even though his hand felt like it had chilled as soon as the contact was broken.

“...Good night, Carewyn.”

He turned to go.

“Orion.”

Carewyn’s hand enclosed over his. Orion stiffened, his heart pounding full-force once more, and he turned back around to face her, just as she raised his hand up to her own lips and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Orion stared. She raised her head with a smile, releasing Orion’s hand with a kind of muted confidence even despite the pinkness of her cheeks.

“Until we meet again, Mr. Freeman.”

With this, she picked up her skirts and darted away up the street, in the direction of the palace.

Orion stared after her. He stared long after she was out of sight, his galaxy-like black eyes staring at the swirling snow without even seeing it. He tentatively took his own hand, trailing his thumb over the place her lips had grazed...and despite all judgment, despite all rational thought, he found his lips turning up in a smile of their own accord. He’d never felt so light and so off-balance in all his life -- was this what it felt like, to glide on a bird’s wings? And yet he knew, despite the weightlessness he felt, it was instead indicative that he’d fallen.

In the midst of using her to get intelligence about her kingdom...in the midst of him following the strategy he’d laid out to get the end of the War he wanted, by learning their weak points and using them to soften others to him...Prince Cosimo Orion Amari, heir to the throne of Florence, had fallen head over heels in love.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #my art #my writing #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #andre egwu #bill weasley #charlie weasley #ginny weasley #ron weasley #katriona cassiopeia #erika rath #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #GAAAAAAH #I am so friggin' happy right now #the drawing was tricky but I'm actually kind of happy with it!#carewyn could sense orion's shyness and decided to give the poor guy a hand :3 #she probably isn't as aware of how deep her feelings are yet as orion is but she is very fond of him #that'll be made clearer in the next part #also andre I friggin' adore you ;~;#in carewyn's canon she and andre actually dated briefly at school XDD #but they ultimately broke up because they needed something different in a relationship #andre isn't really as feelsy and sensitive as carewyn and as stoic as she is she honestly does appreciate sensitivity #andre's the sort to push carewyn's more perfectionistic instincts not help her chill the f*** out like orion can #but they still make great friends <33

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Anchor in the Waves- Chapter 2

I am so sorry its taken so long to get this chapter out...its been one of those weeks. Anyway, here it is! Yay!

Quick reminders: Osbert = Uhtred. Islond=Iceland. Irland=Ireland // all translations are via google and in italics.

This chapter is emotional. Most of the warnings pertain to this chapter. Again, nothing is graphic but implied. Still heavy stuff though. I promise after this it gets better.

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby

"What's it like? Islond?" Halig asked, huddled against Osbert.

"If hell froze over...that is Islond." Finan replied from Osbert's other side, arms tucked inside of his tunic.

Hakka had announced earlier that the trading season was done. Tomorrow they would start the voyage back to Islond. The slaves were to enjoy a few hours rest before back on the oars. They had been tossed stale loaves of bread to share, the thick taste of salt coating the bread from the sea spray.

Finan, Osbert and Halig huddled together, not quite shivering but perpetually cold. The manacle around their ankles seemed to absorb the cold and inject it straight into their bodies.

"We'll be on land though."

Finan did not reply to Halig's comment. Yes, they would be on land, the oars no longer feeling like an unwanted extension of their person; but they would still be barely fed and forced to endure the brutal cold of winter without respite.

Yet with the thought of their return to Islond she came to mind.

Aine.

Was she alive? Would she remember him? Would she care for him once again?

There were many times he found his mind wandering to her over the past several months, worried for her. In his darkest hours, he would conjure up her face, reveling in the brief flash of warmth it brought with it. Her brown hair in a braid over her shoulder, several strands loose around her face. Her slightly pointed chin and the dimple in it. Eyes the color of bronze. The small birthmark on her cheekbone. Those gentle, calloused hands that held his like a lifeline, both providing and seeking comfort.

"A stòr." He whispered into the wind. Was it a call to let her know he was coming? A hope that she had not given up on him? A reminder of what had passed between them? He did not know. In his soul, it just felt right. (My treasure.)

*****

She almost dropped the blankets in her arms when she saw him.

All the ship slaves looked awful, like they had been dragged across the sea floor then pulled ashore and forced to remember how to walk. They were almost indistinguishable with their long, matted hair and beards, bowed backs, threadbare clothes and general air of defeat.

She stood to the side of the main hall, having run from gathering the blankets off the drying line to be able to watch their approach.

To see if he returned.

"Aine!" Master Sverri called, walking towards her. His thumbs were tucked into the band around his waist, his strut like a conquering hero returning home. Yet he was no hero. "Come to greet us?"

"Welcome home, Master." She answered demurely, dropping her gaze to his boots. It startled her that he called her by name. He had always called her ‘girl’ or ‘slave’ before. She tried not to think too hard about the implications of him remembering her name and using it.

He tipped her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. His sharp eyes bore into her, seeking something in her face, before releasing her with a grunt as he walked past. She was unsure what that look meant...but it made her uncomfortable.

As she looked once again at the slaves, one was staring at her. Soft, brown eyes met hers. She would know those eyes anywhere.

Finan.

Unconsciously, her eyes widened and tears threatened to fall. The shock of seeing him again rooted her to where she stood lest she collapse. He was alive...but appeared even more haggard and frail compared to last she saw him. He cradled one of his hands against his chest, staring at her until he was shoved by one of the Danes into the barn. She remained frozen, watching as all the ship slaves were marched to the barns and separated.

The one thought repeated in her mind endlessly- he was alive.

For how much longer though?

The returned Danes would celebrate voraciously tonight, happy to be home. Ale would flow freely and most would be passed out before the moon was at its zenith. She should be able to sneak away without notice. She had too.

Quickly, she turned and headed back inside the main hall, back to her duties before the Master's wife could yell at her for being lazy.

The night could not come soon enough.

*****

"Finan?"

He jerked at his name, the sound just barely slipping through the slats of the barn. It had taken some manipulation to make sure that he ended up back in the same pen he had occupied prior. A small smile crossed his lips when he noticed the hole he had made was still there. "Aine?"

Sticking his hand through the opening, warmth immediately surrounded his hand as she clutched it with both of hers.

“Conaíonn tú.” She murmured. (You live.)

“Mar a dhéanann tú.” (As do you.)

He pressed his forehead to the slats and felt her reciprocate the action. That simple touch, the simple connection brought tears to his eyes. It would never eclipse the beatings, starvation and despair but it helped lessen it. He had missed her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Osbert watching him curiously, everyone else asleep by this point. He trusted Osbert not to say anything to their captors.

They stayed that way for several minutes. Everything Finan could think of to say to her, to acknowledge or ask...once it hit his tongue died. So, he kept his lips closed and just breathed in her gentle presence, a balm to his dispirited soul.

He remembered that last time he had thought she was beautiful. When he saw her after getting off the ship this time, it felt like something had changed. When he looked up and saw her standing by the main hall, a pile of blankets in her arms, he realized he had been wrong. She was radiant.

“Ní féidir liom fanacht.” (I cannot stay.)

“Tuigim. Táim… tá áthas orm go bhfuil tú ceart go leor.” (I understand. I am… I am glad you are alright.)

“Seo.” She pushed something into his hand then released it. (Here.)

“Go raibh maith agat.” (Thank you.)

He heard her footsteps as she walked away quickly. Pulling his hand back, he noticed it was half a loaf of bread. Far more than she had ever given him before. Without a word, he tore it into three parts and tossed two of them to Osbert. The man caught them, having been watching him, and quietly nudged Halig to wake him.

As they ate silently, Finan's thoughts were disturbed by Osbert's whisper.

"Who is she?"

Finan thought about his answer, munching on the fresh bread. Something he had not tasted in almost two years. "Aine." He finally replied. "When I was here last...she saved me."

*****

Over the next couple of weeks, Aine tried to visit Finan every few days. She wished she could go every night, not just to see him with her own eyes and feel his hand in hers; at least then she knew he was getting food when she visited. After the third visit, he had mentioned about two others he had come to know. If it was his intention to mention others to receive more food, she did not mind. She tried to bring a little extra with her, sometimes forgoing her own lunch and dinner to have extra to bring. She was too scared to steal more from the kitchens and get caught.

It was also during this time that Master Sverri's attentions to her became more obvious.

*****

"The deep cold will start tonight." Gunnhild, the Master's wife, said flatly. She sat mending by the fire in the main hall, an interesting sight since her hands were the size of ham hocks. Everyone else had returned to their homes by this point, leaving only the Master, his wife and the house slaves.

"Yes." Master Sverri listlessly said, staring at the flames with a mug of ale in hand.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Unless you want your slaves to freeze to death, they will need blankets. By the gods, you do this every year!"

"They are slaves."

"THEY ARE EXPENSIVE!" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This was not a good year for us. Not enough trade. We need to keep them alive."

He swirled the ale in his mug for a long moment before nodding solely. "You are right."

"Aine," Gunnhild called loudly, "you and Alva take blankets to the ship slaves."

"Yes, Mistress." Aine stood up from further down the main hall, where she had been scrubbing the dried, sticky ale off the tables. It had been another rambunctious night of drinking for the Danes. After everyone left, the Mistress suddenly decided the sticky residue needed to be removed. "Would ya prefer me to finish my task first?"

"No, it'll be here when you return. Go."

Leaving everything behind, she headed to the kitchen to inform Alva, the middle-aged cook, their task. They gathered the spare blankets, kept separate for the ship slaves and headed out to the barns. Aine announced she would take the barn with the pigs. If Alva had any suspicions, it was not noticeable. On the contrary, she thanked Aine since she needed to return to the kitchen quickly to prepare the porridge for the morning and the barn with the horses was closer to the main hall.

Without a word, Aine tossed half of the blankets in the first pen. The sounds of the men scurrying and arguing over the blankets followed her as she moved on. It was the second pen that she cared about more.

There were five slaves in the second pen, including Finan. As she approached, the men watched her warily. It was when she tossed the couple blankets in, did they finally move. It was the one with piercing blue eyes that took charge and passed the blankets out, giving her a brief nod after as he huddled under one with a smaller man on one side and Finan on the other.

"Thank ya."

She directed a small smile at Finan, her eyes meeting his own. This was the first time they were face to face without slats separating them. She opened her mouth to say something but the scraping sound of the barn door opening stopped her. With a backward glance, she froze.

Master Sverri closed the barn door behind him. In the darkness it was hard to decipher his features, but something about the way he was standing there peering at her made her skin crawl.

Subconsciously, she stepped back.

If he noticed her movement, he gave no indication as he slowly approached, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes never drifted away from her body, eyeing her hungrily. "Are the blankets distributed?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good." He drew closer until he stood in front of her, hovering over her. Meanwhile he ignored the slaves in the pens as if they were furniture. "Was there another task that required you, Aine?"

It was not until hearing him say her name now, that Danish growl butchering the pronunciation, that she realized how much she desired hearing Finan say her name. When he said it, his Irish accent grew. When he said it, it sounded like home.

"Just finishin' cleanin' the tables."

"Mmm...I have need of you first." It was the way he said it, his hand brushing her hair out of her face, the closeness of his body. She knew what was to come. Alva warned her only a few days ago what his attention would mean.

"Come." He commanded, turning back towards the barn door.

What else could she do? Bowing her head, she started to follow. Not before she snuck a glance at Finan. Even in the darkness, she could read the horror and rage on his face. He hastily shoved the blanket off him, starting to rise. Immediately she shook her head, hoping he could see it in the gloom. They were slaves. Their thoughts and feelings were nothing. Their bodies and pain were nothing. They were nothing.

She thought she heard Finan quietly call out her name but it did not matter. She kept moving.

After Master Sverri finished with her that night, she sat outside and gazed at the stars above, tears slipping down her cheeks undisturbed. Was it worth even wishing for freedom anymore? Was this all fate had planned for her?

*****

"Aine…"

“Níl, ná habair é.” She silenced him by interrupting, clutching his hand just a little tighter. He was unsure if he could hear a tremble in her voice or if it was just the cold. “I ... tá sé rud ar bith. Mhair tú i bhfad níos measa ná mise.” (No, do not say it. // I...it is nothing. You have survived far worse than me.)

“Ní comórtas é.” (It is not a competition.)

A small bark of laughter slipped out of her mouth, but it sounded harsh and cruel. Finan wished there was something, anything he could do to protect her. He would easily accept a beating or whipping to save her from whatever fate was giving her. Yet there was nothing he could do. He was imprisoned, too weak to fight in her stead, he doubted he had the strength to hold up a sword and swing it, let alone fight with it.

He wanted to ask about the other night, when Master Sverri followed her to the barn. He wanted...no, needed to know if that bastard touched her. She must have anticipated his question and shut it down before he even placed the words on his tongue to say. That night he had sat awake the whole time. Fury, vengeance, fear and despair took turns beating at his mind. He wanted nothing more than to escape the pen and throttle Master Sverri before he could lay a hand on her. Save her from whatever cruelty played out in the Dane’s mind as he stood there in the gloom of the barn, leering at her like a predator and she an innocent lamb. As Finan started to rise, flaming anger fueling his movements, Osbert grabbed his arm and forced him to stay still. The rest of the night and the next two were torturous. Rage rose up within him whenever he saw Master Sverri walking around the village, enough to make his veins almost boil with his desire to slowly kill the Dane. What was worse though, was the rage at himself for his inability to do anything.

Finan squeezed her hand, his breath visible from the cold. “Geallaim lá amháin saorfaidh mé thú.” (I promise one day I will free you.)

“Finan, le do thoil ... ná tabhair gealltanais mar sin le do thoil.” (Finan, please do not... please do not make promises like that.)

“Ná tabhair suas, a stór, ná déan! Éalóimid, agus tiocfaidh mé ar ais agus saorfaidh mé thú. Tugaim faoi deara é. An gcreideann tú mé? Abair amach é.” (Do not give up, my treasure, do not! We will escape, and I will come back and free you. I swear it. Do you believe me? Say it.)

“Creidim thú.” (I believe you.) She barely whispered; voice tight with emotion.

He rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand, her hand still trembling, much like his own. Her face was turned down, staring at their hands as if ashamed to meet his eyes. He wished he could comfort her further somehow, wrap his arms around her and hide her away from the world.

Suddenly the sound of the dogs barking made them both jump.

"Téigh!" He said, worried someone would find her. It was truly a miracle she had been able to seek him out like she had been without anyone the wiser. (Go!)

Without a word, she dropped his hand and ran, having already given him the hard biscuits.

Once he no longer heard her footsteps or any screams to signal she had been caught, he relaxed against the side of the barn, tucking the blanket closer around his person that he shared with Osbert and Halig.

He turned his head to look at the man sitting next to him. His blue eyes met Finan's brown in the darkness of the barn. Keeping his voice low, he spoke, a determination coursing through his veins. "What is the plan ya mentioned earlier?"

Osbert smiled wickedly.

*****

Finan could see the slavers gaining ground on them. The dogs barked loudly at catching sight of their prey just up ahead. The sand and rocks under his feet made footing treacherous. His legs wobbled beneath him like a newborn foal’s. Osbert already fell once. He was not even sure how Halig was still running, although his strength was obviously failing.

But they had to keep going. Their freedom laid before them just up ahead.

A bastard boat.

He grabbed the end, pulling with what little strength he had left to get it into the water. The weight threatened to be too much for his weakened body...but he kept pulling. This was their one chance. There would not be another. They must make it.

Then Halig collapsed on the rocky shore. Osbert tried to drag him along, crying how he would not leave him behind, but both barely moved.

It was then, before the Danes even seized them, Finan knew they failed.

The small waves slammed against the back of his legs, spraying water across his body. For a second, he wondered if it would be better for him to run into the sea and not turn back. His body was bound to be cast into its depths anyway, either by his choice or the slavers tossing his corpse overboard when his body finally gave out.

He looked over at Osbert, meeting his distraught gaze. A thousand words passed unspoken between them. At that moment, he knew abandoning his friend was not an option.

The Danes returned the three of them, bound and chained, back to the village. Seven others waited, having been captured already. They sat, all bound together in the middle of the village. All day and night they remained, exposed to the elements and the occasional beating from the slavers. During this time they went without food or water as the Danes sought out the other escaped slaves.

By the end of the next day, all but two slaves were found.

Master Sverri glared at them from the front steps of the main hall, arms crossed over his chest. "We leave in one week!" He announced, then looked to his men, standing around the slaves. "Whip them...but not that one." He pointed a stubby finger at Halig, the pain from his wounds evident on the slave’s ashen face. "He watches for now. His punishment will come later."

That night, Finan finally asked the question that had been brewing in his mind like a bad storm. "Who are ya really?" He demanded, his voice low so the others would not overhear, even if they appeared to be asleep.

More than once he overheard Halig call Osbert “lord” and how Osbert made reference to their fighting together. There was an authority that Osbert bore on his shoulders, invisible but when he spoke, it came with the sound of one used to orders listened to.

Osbert sighed, glancing around the pen they were back in. "No one."

"I know that's a filthy lie."

"It's a long story."

"I'm no goin' anywhere." Finan shrugged then winced as the torn muscles on his back from the whipping stretched.

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment before groaning and turning to face Finan completely. Even in the gloom of the barn, his blue eyes shone with passion. His voice changed from a quiet resignation to one of determination. "My name is Uhtred son of Uhtred, Lord of Bebbanburg..."

*****

In three days, the ship would set sail. Away from Islond. Away from her. Away into the unknown future and turbulent seas. Aine visited Finan two days before, giving what food she could to him. Normally, she tried not to visit him so soon for fear of being caught. Now though, she wanted to give him what nourishment she could before he was gone. She also brought more cloths for him to wrap around his palms, along with some extra for the others.

He firmly gripped her hand. She was unsure if it was his hand or hers that trembled. Tears formed but she restrained them through sheer will. For some reason, this time, this goodbye felt final. Neither spoke it but both acknowledged it. She should have walked away some time ago, yet her legs refused to move, his hand clasped between hers just as tightly.

“Fan láidir, Aine.” (Stay strong, Aine.)

All she could only nod. Her soul was being chipped away little by little and now with Finan's upcoming departure, she doubted she would survive.

Especially if Master Sverri came back and Finan did not.

There were so many things she wanted to tell him but never did. Due to her own cowardness or time constraint, it mattered little now. It was still left unspoken. There was a bond between them, something she would always be grateful for. He was her strength when she felt unable to rise up again, her joy when he teased her and made her smile as something she never did otherwise, he was her sanctuary where she could hide away from the world. How could she tell him all this though? How could she convey her deep need for him to steady her as the rock he was in her life?

“Aine? Cad é sin?” (Aine? What is it?)

Her fluctuating emotions must have shown on her face enough for him to see it in the moonlight. She sighed, leaning over to press a kiss to the back of his hand. Something they had never done. His sharp inhale of breath worried her for a brief moment. Then he leaned his forehead against the slats, tugging her hand gently until she reciprocated the action.

“Tá rud éigin le rá agam…” He breathed out. (There is something I need to say…)

Oh, what she would give for these slats to be gone, for them to be free, to embrace him uninhibited like she wanted to. She squeezed his hand to let him know she was listening. Slowly he exhaled, as if that would help align the words on his tongue. The thought made her smile softly.

"Hey! You!"

Aine looked over and saw a figure standing still, having just come around the side of the barn. With a torch in hand, he was unable to distinguish her in the darkness. But she could see who it was. Terror flooded her veins with a vengeance. Her worst nightmare came to pass.

“RITH!” (RUN!)

Aine obeyed Finan's order without a second thought, darting away, hoping to lose her pursuer amidst the buildings as she weaved around them. Hard footfalls from behind crept closer and closer. She put everything she had into getting away and hiding. The figure could not have seen her face. He would not have known what she was doing. She just had to find somewhere to hide and wait him out. She just had to make it there.

Something slammed into her the back, making her stumble and lose her footing. Ungraciously, she fell face first.

She gasped; the impact having chased the air from her lungs. Tears welled in her eyes. Her hands dug into the firm earth beneath her. No…. no... no... please not this.

"What do we have here?" A rough hand flipped her over, forcing her to stare into the face of Hakka. "What were you doing, whore?"

Tears streamed down her face. There was nothing she could do now, nowhere to hide. This was it.

"Let's go ask Master Sverri, mmm?" He grabbed a fistful of her hair and started dragging her towards the main hall.

Minutes later she found herself on her knees before the Master, who had been roused from sleep. His tunic and leggings were rumpled from the bed. Only socks clad his feet, not even sparing the time to put his boots on with Hakka's yelling.

"What were you doing, Aine?" The Master asked softly, an almost begging unbelief in his tone. As if he could not fathom she would disobey him.

Her eyes remained on the floor, hands clasped in her lap. It was no use answering. She suddenly felt exhausted, so much so to not even try and create an excuse for her actions. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide from everything until her body rejoined the ground. She was so tired.

"Look at me." He cupped her chin gently, forcing her eyes to his.

Unable to stop herself, she flinched. Though he never beat her, she loathed his touch. Every time his fingers grazed her skin or hair, every time he had "need" of her, every time his eyes tracked her across the room...she hated everything about him.

"There is a small opening, broken slat towards the back of the pig barn where the slaves stay. She was kneeling in front of there." Hakka explained, hand on the axe head strapped to his side. "It was a good size to pass something through."

Master Sverri stared at her, hand still cupping her chin. “Were you giving the slaves something?"

She bit her bottom lip, tasting her own blood in her mouth.

"ANSWER ME!!" He suddenly roared in her face, his hand on her face now gripped it painfully.

Then the voice of Gunnhild came from the side of the room, wrapped in a cloak and hair messy from being roused unceremoniously. "Alva informed me she has noticed Aine does not always eat her meals but saves them, stuffing the food into a pouch or wrapping and saving it."

"Have you been feeding the slaves?" Master Sverri asked. He stared at her with wide, unbelieving eyes. When she did not answer, that surprise turned to rage. He backhanded her, sending her sprawling to the ground. More blood filled her mouth but she remained silent. He rounded on Hakka. "Take her to the pit."

"What will you do with her?" Gunnhild stared down her nose at the slave girl that had been a gift. "I do not want her anymore."

"I will take care of her." Her husband stated, fists clenched by his sides.

Hakka grabbed one of her arms and dragged her out of the room. The angle he pulled on, she feared he would dislocate or break her arm. She tugged, trying to loosen or change his grip on her. A whimper escaped her as he yanked purposefully with a dark chuckle.

It was when she could see where he was taking her that she began to fight back, albeit weakly. She kicked and swung at him. Anything to stop their advancement. Anything to not be put in there.

He laughed, easily manhandling her. "You'll beg for death soon enough." He whispered into her ear as he immobilized her against his body. "Sverri will not forgive this, nor show mercy. Maybe he will finally let us all take our turn with you."

That thought terrified her. She whipped her head back, feeling it slam against his face with a crack.

"Stupid whore!" He yelled, throwing her to the ground. Before she could move to escape, he stood over her, blood dripping from his nose. A snarl on his face, he pulled his arm back and punched the side of her head.

Darkness surrounded her.

*****

The shackle on his ankle burned. The hard bench under his arse and the high wall of the slave ship made him feel like he was looking out of his own grave. The smell of the ocean nauseated him already.

The Danes were securing the last of the slaves to their posts on the ship and bringing the remaining supplies aboard.

Fresh pain radiated across his back when he moved his shoulders. However foolhardy it was, he fought back against the Danes when they dragged the slaves towards the ship. A strong rod across his back repeatedly forced his submission.

Now he sat here waiting…waiting to row...waiting for his probable death.

Even sitting with his back facing him, Finan could see Uhtred's resolve slowly beginning to slip away after their failed escape attempt. Uhtred tried his best to hide it though, especially in front of Halig. The smaller man had been in visible pain since their escape attempt, his arrow wounds untended. The Danes had not seen fit to provide any medical attention, just threw him in the pen with the others.

A disturbance at the front of the ship caught Finan's attention. Walking up the gangplank was Master Sverri, his hand firmly grasping a handful of Aine's hair and forcing her to walk before him.

A punch to the gut, a whipping, being tossed overboard...anything would have been less expected than this.

Finan had not seen her for three days, not since she had last given him food then run off when someone noticed her. What worried him the most, he had not even seen her around the village doing her daily chores. During the following days, his mind conjured more and more horrific scenarios of what happened to her. He knew whatever it was, he was responsible. Without him, she would have been safe back in the main hall, in her bed, not outside the barn trying to sneak him food. It was his fault. He should have told her to stay away, to not worry about him.

The prospect of food and a gentle touch had been too strong, his weakened mind and body unable to resist.

It was his fault.

Now seeing her, his heart plummeted in his chest. She looked far worse than any other time he had seen her. Her dress was torn and dirty, as if she had been dragged out of a hole in the ground. Dried tear tracks stood out against the grime covering her face, the only spots semi-clean. From this distance he was unsure if it was dirt or dried blood that matted her hair on one side of her head. She stumbled up the gangplank, legs shaking.

What had he done? Finan promised...he promised to set her free. Not this. Never this.

Without a word, Master Sverri shoved her towards the front of the ship. There Finan could no longer see her. He was not sure if that was better or worse.

"IT WOULD APPEAR YOU DOGS NEED A REMINDER OF YOUR PLACE!" Hakka shouted at them, pacing the middle of the ship. He pointed at Halig, a sadistic smile on his face. "Grab him."

Two of the other Danes, forcibly removed Halig from his shackle. Uhtred screamed, trying to fight the Danes but they only beat him back. Finan eventually grabbed Uhtred, holding him firmly while he screamed to let Halig go, begging to take Halig's place. Those screams fell on deaf ears, only increasing the taunts and laughter from the Danes dragging Halig away.

"TIE HIM TO THE BOW, LET THE SEA KILL HIM!" Hakka cried out, watching the two Danes drag the injured slave towards the front of the ship. "LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU ALL!"

"NO!!!" Uhtred wailed. His words and screams almost unintelligible as they weaved together into an almost animalistic cry. His body shook violently, nails digging into Finan's arms, the only things keeping him rooted to his spot.

Glancing up above, Finan could see Master Sverri watching Uhtred with a smirk. He suddenly remembered when him and the other slaves were beaten after their failed escape...all but Halig. Master Sverri had said his punishment would come later...the bastard had been planning this.

Somehow, Finan promised himself, he would kill that devil.

Right now, he just held a trembling Uhtred. He could feel his own anger and horror rising but he suppressed them. The care Uhtred had given his friend was obvious and this...Finan worried it would break him even more than the oars and the beatings. Being forced to listen to his friend's cries as the sea slowly drown him, it was enough to destroy any sane man.

Then the order came to start rowing.

"Uhtred, ya must." Finan whispered, when his friend refused to move. "That bastard is watchin' and I don't think he means to kill ya. He'd have done so."

"Halig…" He whimpered.

"He's a dead man walkin'. There's nothin' we can do for him now."

The Irishman tried to console but noticed his own hands were shaking. How do you prepare yourself to listen to the slow death of a friend? You cannot. He wondered if this moment would haunt the rest of his life.

As if in a daze, Uhtred slowly moved back into his seat and grasped the oar. His silent sobs made his shoulder quiver.

Not even a few minutes later, Master Sverri came over to crouch above Uhtred. "The only reason you are not dead is because I am curious as to who you are."

"PULL!"

"PULL AND GIVE HIM THE PEACE OF DEATH!"

It was once the distant sounds of Halig's cries finally faded that Master Sverri walked away.

Watching everything as he pulled his own oar, Finan wondered if it would be the oar and seas that killed him and Uhtred or their despair. His ears felt as if they were bleeding while hearing Halig slowly die. Yet it was the following silence that was even worse. Tears slipped down his own cheeks, catching in his beard. What life was this to continue living?

A sharp, distinctly feminine cry from the front reminded him that Aine was still aboard.

Rage filled him, overpowering his despair. It strengthened his body, sharpening his mind. He could not give in to death now. Quickly, he wiped away the tears with the back of his hand. The despair and pain he shoved into the furthest recesses of his mind. Somehow, he had a promise to fulfill. To save a life and take another.

"Do not give up yet." He said aloud, both for himself and Uhtred. "Do not give up."

#The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom fanfic #finan the last kingdom #finan x ofc #finan the agile #uhtred ragnarson #slavery #mz writes

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msjr0119 · 4 years

Text

A Proposal

Prologue

The new Crown Prince Liam, is unsure about what his future holds for him. All he knows is that he wants to marry for love and not for a political reason. Riley Brooks an American, a mutual friend becomes the Royal Family’s new Personal Assistant. Maybe his future may hold a few unexpected surprises?

A/N: So this has been in my drafts for months and months. Since January. That seems like a lifetime ago! I’m wanting to post all of my drafts and do my reblogs before going on another hiatus- I’m determined to do this 🤣 all my work and other people’s reblogs are now in the ‘queue’, so I don’t know when they will be posted... I haven’t done a moodboard for this series as of yet, so a gif will do for now 😜

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Maxwell x Riley

All characters belong to Pixelberry unless stated otherwise.

Warnings: None that I can think of apart from Constantine being slightly harsh. Call me out if you see any that need mentioning 👍🏼

Tags (as always for an introduction I’ll tag my combined tag list- if you don’t respond asking to be tagged in further chapters I won’t 😊)

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @lodberg @walker7519 @drakewalkerisreal @axwalker @bascmve01 @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @queenjilian @drakewalker04 @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @jared2612 @twinkle-320 @princessleac1 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @princess-geek @bebepac @nikkis1983 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @seriouslybadchoices @furiousherringoperatortoad @shanzay44 @choices97 @gardeningourmet

****

Liam Rys still couldn’t get over the fact that he was now not the spare heir but in fact the heir- the now Crown Prince of Cordonia. Every morning he would wake up, hoping for it to be just his imagination- not reality. Before his mother passed away when he was only a young boy, she had promised him that he could marry for love- now that just seemed like one big lie. The King had arranged an unexpected meeting with his son, Liam had just assumed that it would be regarding his new duties as the Crown Prince. Unlike his older brother, Leo- Liam had always taken his royal duties seriously.

“Liam, my son. It’s good to see you. I’d like to introduce you to some people who will be very close to you prior to your social season.” As much as Liam attempted time use his stoic expression, he could have sworn that his eyes rolled back and that it would be noticed.

“And finally this is Miss Brooks, she will be on hand for anything that you need.”

“Nice to meet your acquaintance.... Miss... erm....” Feeling hypnotised by the strangers presence, he could easily recall her name- but had hoped that she would give away her first name. Or maybe a hint at the least.

“Miss Brooks, your highness.” Riley reiterated after curtsying infront of the monarch as well as the future monarch.

“Miss Brooks is from New York City originally, I’m sure she will be an asset to us all even though she is below our standard.” Constantine explained with no empathy for his harsh words. Riley grit her teeth, faking a smile not really wanting to show her true expression.

“I look forward to working with you, my lady.” Gently rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, he tentatively guided her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss onto her soft skin. Unlike the other introductions, Liam was unsure as to what had come over him with this unexpected gesture. Deep down, Riley was horrified with his impromptu action- however continued to smile, like a professional.

****

Later on in the day, the future king was in a daze. Liam poured himself a scotch in his quarters, ever since his unexpected introduction with her- for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about everything regarding the mystery lady. Inviting Drake and Maxwell over, he needed a distraction. A big one at that.

“Li? Are you okay?” Drake asked the moment he set foot into the room. Usually Liam wouldn’t send out an SOS, he would just get on with things. As a future king would do.

“Yes, I’m sorry for disturbing you both. The whole situation regarding Leo’s abdication- it’s just not fully sunk in yet. I don’t know if I will cope with the social season- I don’t want that.” Pausing, Drake chewed on the inside of his cheek- not really knowing how to respond. All of their life they had assumed that all the responsibility would revolve around Leo. The eldest prince. The rightful future monarch. “I met someone today……” Liam continued, both of his friends gazes focused onto him- both noticing the sudden sparkle surrounding his baby blues.

“A little birdie told me that you met Riley today…” Maxwell interrupted, whilst scoffing his face with a box of an unknown delicacy to the two men stood near him.

“Who?”

“Riley Brooks. Liam’s new ‘personal assistant’. She’s awesome. A bit boring when she’s at work, but she’s very motivated- she delivers her work to the highest standard. You’ll be fine with her by your side, you can trust her with anything.”

“And how do you know her, Beaumont?”

“She worked for us, but then we got into a bit of money trouble. Don’t ask. Bertrand will kill me if you both knew. Anyway…. I promised that I’d find her a new job as we had to let all of our staff go. I had to grovel with the King to give her a chance. That wasn’t a pretty sight, I’m surprised that I’m still walking to be honest- he looked as if he was going to kill me. Once your social season ends she will probably go back to New York. I will miss her.”

“Maxwell, tell me everything about her. I’d like to know.”

“Erm… what exactly do you want to know, Liam?”

****

The morning after, Liam woke up earlier than usual. All night he had been thinking about what Maxwell had told him, and had asked his most loyal friend Drake to help him out with a few things.

“Come in.”

“Your highness, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes I did, Lady Riley. Take a seat.” Sitting down on the leather chair as instructed, she felt slightly uncomfortable- her heart was pounding uncontrollably. “Would you like a coffee? Or some juice?”

“No, thank you- your highness.”

“The reason that I brought you here....I just wanted to ask a few questions - if that’s okay with you?” Nodding, she wasn’t sure if it was actually ‘okay’. All thoughts- negative thoughts began to wander throughout her mind. Making her more nervous now than ever. Was this another interview, an on the spot one to make sure that she was the correct candidate for the job? Deep down she had already been doubting her ability - but would push herself to complete any task thrown at her. She knew it wasn’t going to be a ‘walk in the park’ like previous jobs she had obtained in the past.

“Did you enjoy working at Ramsford?”

“Yes your highness, why do you ask?”

“Why did you enjoy it?” What’s with the possible hundred questions about Ramsford? I know Maxwell and Bertrand know of the King and the Prince’s. Or are they actually closer to the royal family? Oh god, what have they told the royals about me?

“They were very accommodating, they rewarded us for our hard work. They became more like friends, or family rather than employers.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Do you enjoy it here in Cordonia?”

“Your country is very beautiful, and also different to what I grew up in. I instantly fell in love with it.”

“Are you feeling homesick at all? I’m just asking - if you need time off there’s no need to worry about it. We can be accommodating too.”

“No, I’m not homesick. Don’t worry about it. New York hasn’t been my home for a few years now. The only thing that I really missed is the food, but Max.....I mean....Lord Maxwell stumbled across a bakery and restaurant that provide American style food. So we....I mean... I’d often go there on my days off.” With her stuttering, Liam assumed that she had been or was still very much close to Maxwell. Something that the Lord had failed to explain, or elaborate on during their previous chat.

“Very well, Lady Riley. You may go now if you please.” Riley slowly stood up and curtsied yet again. Thankful that the short interrogation was over, she had planned to not overthink it. Instead, she knew her job role- her responsibilities, and she intended on completing them to her best ability. Walking towards the door, she turned around and gave Liam another quick curtsy along with a soft smile.

“Oh, Riley- you don’t have to curtsy at every opportunity. Not infront of myself anyway. As well as that, you don’t have to use titles. ‘Just Liam’ is fine.” ‘Just Liam’, got it. For now anyway. Riley thought to herself as she left the Prince alone- knowing that he would never be ‘Liam’ to her.

****

Walking back into her room, she believed at first that she had accidentally stumbled into the wrong one. In all fairness, all of the corridors and guest rooms had similar features. As far as she was aware, she had left it tidy- now it was surrounded in what she would refer to as ‘souvenir trash’.

I hope that you will enjoy the few presents that I got for you. If you ever want to visit anywhere, I’d gladly accompany you there. We could get to know each other better? I will see you in the morning. If you turn over the page- I have written a proposal for you.

Your highness. (Just Liam)

#theroyalromance #choices trr #trr fanfic #liam rys #riley brooks #maxwell beaumont #drake walker #liam x riley #liam x mc #trr a proposal

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cantdwellonanyofit · 3 years

Text

I Don't Think Enough Before I Say Too Much - Ch 4.

Gene and Snafu eventually arrive at Snafu's house.

I don't know if it's a good or a bad thing that I have to keep editing the tags on AO3 to provide warnings about the smut I can't stop writing.

Dedicated to: Stolzerpunge who is quite obviously one of my favourite people on this planet. Also, she's the one who mentioned rubbing the bridge of Gene's nose and I give full credit to her for that beautiful sentiment.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770078/chapters/70963017

Gene woke abruptly, disoriented. He sat up and tried to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness but closed them again when it wasn’t working. There was a weight beside him. A heat, like a human body. He was going to get killed if he couldn’t see. He snapped his eyes open, willed himself to see. His gaze immediately landed on Shelton, sleeping with his mouth slightly ajar. Gene breathed out slowly and tried to calm down. He just kept staring at Shelton. Coaxing himself into the present. He was in New Orleans, with Snafu. With his boyfriend. Gene continued to stare, breathing deeply, until a smile spread on his face. He’d lost his virginity last night. To this man. He’d never felt so sure about anything in his life.

Gene gradually shifted one leg out from under the covers and then the other. He winced; he was sore from being stretched open last night. He tried his best not to wake Snafu as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and then stood up. The bed creaked, and Gene turned to ensure Snafu was still asleep. He hadn’t even stirred. Gene walked to the bathroom and relieved himself, then quietly got dressed. Afterwards, he found the pen and paper he’d purchased the day prior. It felt like he’d went shopping a week ago. Time had a way of warping when he was around Snafu. Gene moved to the desk that was situated in a corner of the room and lit the lamp. He glanced over at Snafu, but again, the other man didn’t stir. Gene grabbed a sheet of paper and began to write.

“Dear Greaser,”

Gene smiled. His nickname for Sid.

“I haven’t been gone more than a week or two by the time this letter reaches you, but I wanted to let you know I arrived safely. The journey was long, but nothing compared to the trip through Japan. Louisiana is just like Alabama in a lot of ways. It’s hot. The same sultry fog that hangs in the air here must stretch all the way to Alabama. But different too. There’s lots of lights, sounds, and people. And French! It’s quite a sight. Maybe someday you’ll visit and see what I mean. I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to apologize for barging in on you and Mary like that. And to thank you for taking me to the station. And for the money. I’m tracking what I owe you, and I won’t take no for an answer. But most of all, I wanted to thank you for making sure I got on that train. I found who I was looking for. Things are difficult. Different. But they’re also exciting. So much has happened already. I wish I could share it with you. But perhaps a letter is not the best place for it. I hope to sit down with you someday and tell you everything. I hope-“

Gene hesitated. He had to be careful about what he put in writing. He wasn’t sure he should, or even could, tell Sid the truth about what he was. About what he was doing. Shame washed over him like a warm breeze. He wondered if he should just throw the letter away. Maybe he could never return home now. He wouldn’t be able to bare the rejection from Sid. But he didn’t want to run away. He wasn’t a coward. He wanted to bring Merriell home with him one day. Introduce him to his parents. To Sid. To Ed. Maybe none of them would understand at first, but they loved Gene. They’d want what was best for him. If God could bring him and Snafu together, then maybe there was something to it. Maybe there was a piece of God in all this.

‘So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them,’ the bible said time-and-time again.

God had created Gene. Why would he create him if he couldn’t accept him? Gene memorized the scriptures that brought him comfort during his frenzied search for God’s acceptance.

‘So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate,’ Matthew 19:5, ‘Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself,’ Samuel 18:1, ‘David says of Jonathan: “Your love for me was wonderful, more wonderful than that of women,’ Samuel 1:26.

Gene tenderly tucked these words away. Like precious letters written by someone he had loved and lost. He held them deep in his heart. Buried somewhere. Unable to look at them. But he was ready to take the letters out. Ready to tattoo the words on his skin. If God could accept him, so could his family.

He pressed his pen back to the paper.

“I hope someday when I tell you everything, that you’ll understand. All the best, Gene.” He finished. He moved the paper aside and grabbed another.

‘Dear mom and dad,

I’m sorry I left so abruptly. I hope Sid was able to reach you before you realized I was gone. I don’t ever mean to worry you. I don’t ever mean to cause so many problems. I just need time. I’m in Louisiana now, and I’m feeling hopeful. I think you both know being home was difficult for me. I hope when I return, we can start over. That I can explain everything to you. That you’ll understand,” he found himself writing for the second time. He prayed they’d understand.

If they could feel what Gene felt for Snafu they’d never question his intentions. His state of mind. It was purer than his love for God. Before the war he’d never dream of saying something like that. But he’d changed. God’s role in his life had changed. He had to believe his family could drastically change too. He knew his mother didn’t understand homosexuality. Could tell by the way she talked about men and women. How she always mentioned weddings and grandchildren. How she hoped both Ed and Gene would have lots. Have great wives. As if neither of them could ever want something different. ‘Learn to clean up after yourself now, or your future wife will resent you,’ his mother would say.

Gene just ignored her. His dad would defend them both. “Mary Frank, leave the boys alone. Don’t rush them to grow up, or you’ll be sorry you did.” His dad was always protecting him. He wondered if his dad could sense Gene was different. Wrong inside. His mom would question why Gene wasn’t out chasing girls like Ed was. And Gene would tell her he wanted to wait for the right one. But he wondered if his father caught the lies as they left his lips. If he knew, but never dared to ask.

“I don’t know when I’ll be home,” Gene continued writing. “But I’ll give notice before I do. I love you both. Love, Gene.”

“Whatchya doin’?” Snafu mumbled; voice wrecked with sleep. Gene jumped and banged his knees on the table.

“Jesus Christ, Merriell,” Gene rubbed his knee. Snafu was laughing. “I was writing.”

“You don’t say?” He replied sardonically. He stretched, stood up, and walked over to Gene, still naked as the day he was born. Then bent and kissed him. Lingering, pressing down on his mouth passionately. Gene melted into it. Just as suddenly as it had begun, Snafu broke it and straightened. “You writin’ to all your friends about how good last night was? Make sure you tell ‘em how big I am.”

Gene laughed, but his smile faded. Drifted into a frown. He wanted so badly to bring Merriell home to Mobile. He wanted Merriell to have Gene’s mother and father as his own parents. He wanted his mom and dad to be happy for him. He wanted them to shake Merriell’s hand, hug him, and welcome him as their son. He wanted Sid to accept him. For them to all go fishing together. He wanted so much.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?” Snafu asked, cautiously bringing his index finger to rub down the bridge of Gene’s nose.

Gene stared blankly ahead as he pondered what question he most needed to ask. “Would you ever come home with me to Mobile?”

Now it was Snafu’s turn to stare blankly. Thinking. He stopped rubbing the length of Gene’s nose. “I’d do it -- for you, but--“ Snafu looked up at the ceiling, contemplating his next words, “It’s dangerous. People don’t take too kindly to what we’re doin’. The world just ain’t like that.” Snafu was watching for Gene’s reaction.

Gene gradually nodded. He was a fool. He was the same fool he’d been before the war. It lit his blood on fire. How could he be so naïve. To think he could just bring Snafu home and parade him around. That everyone would throw a party in Gene’s honor. For finally finding love. For finding peace. He was a damn idiot for thinking everyone would understand. That God was on his side. It wasn’t fair. Why did it matter if he loved a man or a woman? It was love. That should be all that mattered to anyone. Gene sorted both pages he’d written on. Aligned them neatly, then picked them up and promptly tore them in half.

“Eugene,” Snafu tried to still his hands. “What’re you doin’?”

Gene shook off Snafu’s attempt to stop him. He continued to tear the pages until they were just scraps. He dropped the pieces from the air and let them float down, scattered across the table. Just like how he felt inside. He was so stupid. He realized he was crying when one of his tears fell from the tip of his nose and dampened the pile. He was pathetic.

“Eugene….” Snafu tried again. “I didn’t mean to ups-“

“You’re right,” Gene said abruptly. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. They wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t even understand who I was when I arrived home. Why would this be any different?” Gene wiped his face angrily. He was such a child.

“I love you,” Snafu whispered. Gene looked at him. The silence stretched. “I can’t stop saying the wrong thing,” Snafu finally added after the silence became uncomfortable.

“That’s not the wrong thing.” Gene responded. “You mean it?” He felt a bit desperate. The only thing he understood anymore was his love for Snafu. Nothing else in this whole fucked up world made any sense to him.

“More than anything.” Snafu tilted Gene’s face and leaned down to kiss him. Affectionately. Carefully. Like he was made of glass. He was such a fragile thing. He couldn’t stop fuckin’ crying.

“I love you too,” Gene choked on a sob. He tried to smother his tears out by grinding the palm of his hands into his eyes.

“Fuck, Gene, you’re killin’ me. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. You and me, we’re gonna be just fine. We don’t even have to stay here. I don’t even fuckin’ like it here. We could pick another state. Go to California. Another country. The fucking wilderness. In some backwards ass country that speaks a language neither of us understands. I don’t know or give a shit. Just please, please stop bein’ so sad. I can’t stand it,”

Gene looked up at Snafu. Gene could see the desperation in his eyes. They were so expressive, even when he didn’t want them to be. “It’s not fuckin’ fair,” Gene said.

“Nothin’s fair, buttercup. That’s life.” Snafu responded. For some reason that angered Gene. He knew life wasn’t fair. He didn’t need to be babied. He’d been through the same war Snafu had. Gene had hardened. One night of bliss wasn’t enough to bring back the boy he’d been. That part of him was dead. He’d made sure of it. His good side only ever got him hurt. It continued to get him hurt.

“I’m not a child,” Gene stood up, bumping Snafu out of the way.

Snafu grabbed his bicep. “I wasn’t saying you were. Don’t be unreasonable.”

Now Gene was pissed. “Fuck you, Merriell.” He pulled his arm out of Snafu’s grasp and headed for the bathroom.

“Gene, for fuck’s sake I’m tryin’a help you.” Snafu followed him.

“Yeah, a lot of good that ever fuckin’ did.” Snafu stopped walking. Gene turned, regretting what he said immediately. Snafu had saved his life. Countless times. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was shitty. I didn’t mean it.”

Snafu didn’t move. He looked angry. Gene went to grab for him, but Snafu turned around and walked away.

“Merriell…Snafu, stop. Stop!” Gene followed him back to the bed where Snafu threw himself down on his back. Snafu grabbed his cigarettes, put one between his lips, and lit it. Gene grabbed it out of his mouth.

“Can I just have one second without you fuckin’ ruinin’ it with your boo-hoo’in bullshit?” Snafu grabbed his cigarette back. Dragged on it and blew the smoke out angrily. As if he couldn’t even enjoy it. It wafted in Gene’s direction.

That was fair. Gene tried to breathe deeply to calm himself. Inhaling smoke as he did so. Gene had sstuck the knife in first, he reminded himself. “Okay,” Gene responded. “I’ll take me and my,” Gene used two fingers in a show of quotation, “boo-hoo-in bullshit” Gene dropped his hands, “And give you some space.”

Snafu stared numbly. Still angry. Gene could see it radiating off him.

“S’fine by me.” Snafu responded curtly.

Gene had never argued with someone while they were naked before. He’d have to remember to write that down as another first. He’d have laughed if he wasn’t afraid it would set Snafu off like a mortar. Snafu’s words had bitten him, but Gene imagined the wound he’d inflicted on Snafu was larger. During the war, Snafu put every ounce of his own sanity into trying to maintain Gene’s. Gene had just crushed it with his boot like a discarded cigarette. Gene bathed, brushed his teeth, shaved, lingered. Analyzed and re-analyzed the entire conversation he’d had with Snafu. Gene wondered the fuck was wrong with him. Snafu was just trying to help. He’d tried to console him. Snafu had mentioned he was always fucking up his own life. Maybe he and Snafu weren’t so different after all. As Gene sat on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, torturing himself about every word and action, there was a knock at the door.

“You dead in there?” Snafu called.

“Would you like me to be?” Gene called back. Snafu opened the door and stared. As he was prone to doing.

“I didn’t kill my own self every day tryin’a save your sorry ass so you could come home and die in a bathroom.” Snafu retorted.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean a lick of it.” Gene stood up and took a step towards Snafu. In return, Snafu took a step towards him. Meeting in the middle.

“Surprisingly enough, I’ve been known to say some shitty things when I’m mad too.” Snafu kissed Gene. It was quick, but it was both a formal apology and an acceptance of Gene’s apology. Snafu moved to the bath and cranked the water. “We gotta be out of here in 20 minutes. Bus leaves at 1300. Figured we’d get food and head there.”

Gene had been so focused on the future he’d forgotten about going to Snafu’s house. While Snafu bathed and dressed back into the same clothes from the day prior, Gene gathered all his belongings. He had everything by the door in record time. It was just another of many skills he’d learned in the marine corps. When someone said, ‘pack your shit we’re moving,’ you packed your shit and moved. He was smoking one of Snafu’s cigarettes when Shelton emerged from the bathroom. He strutted right over to Gene, stole the cigarette out of his hand, and said, “Thanks, babe, you shouldn’t have.” Snafu went to the door and unlatched it, then grabbed several of Gene’s bags.

“You’re such a shit, you know that?” Gene joined in grabbing the bags, then opened the door for Snafu.

“You love it,” Snafu countered.

As they emerged from the room, they locked eyes with the couple who’d stayed in the room directly to the right of theirs. It was just Gene’s luck they had decided to check out at the same time. The woman stopped and stared at them, mouth agape. Gene felt panic rise in his stomach. How much had they heard last night? The couple just continued staring. Then, in true Snafu fashion, he said, “What the fuck’re you lookin’ at? Buncha weirdos.” And walked down the hallway with his cigarette between his lips.

Gene laughed, tried to cover it up, mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ at them, and then hastily followed Snafu. When Gene caught up to Snafu, he whispered, “They know, don’t they?” Snafu shrugged.

“Who gives a shit?” He repositioned a bag on his arm.

Gene watched him. If anyone else looked at Snafu they’d think he sincerely didn’t give a shit, but Gene wasn’t anyone else. He’d spent so much time watching Snafu as he tried to protect himself from the horrors of war. His jaw clenched; his eyes concerned. He rubbed at the collar of his shirt. Snafu was as worried as Gene was, he was just better at concealing it. If they checked out before the other couple caught up, Gene could at least ensure they wouldn’t know his full name. He picked up the pace, determined to avoid any future backlash. Snafu matched him. Gene managed to check out without incident. The couple had just approached when Gene and Snafu were heading out the door.

Once they were out in the daylight, Snafu darted right towards the bus station. They found a diner on the way, and stopped in. They dropped the bags, both wearing matching red rings around their arms from the weight. They both ordered food as soon as their waiter was available. Gene was starting to feel excited about heading to Snafu’s house. He never dreamed he’d find Snafu, let alone live with him. Live…with his boyfriend. Just ‘his boyfriend’ was enough to make him exhilarated. He remembered what he’d said to Snafu earlier.

“I’m sorry, about earlier. I got defensive, and it wasn’t fair.” Gene wished he could reach out and grab Snafu’s hand.

Snafu looked up suddenly, surprised. He’d been staring down at the table in thought. “You don’t gotta torture yourself about it. We already apologized.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to think I’m gonna to make a habit out of it.” Gene didn’t want to give him a reason to walk away. Snafu had already successfully moved on once.

“I didn’t think you would, Gene. It’s not a big deal.” Snafu continued to look confused.

Gene sighed. He and Snafu were going to have to work on their communication. Gene tended to let things linger. To itch at his skin until he couldn’t help digging at them. He liked to visit and revisit conversations, thoughts, and actions. Snafu only appeared to think on things for the length the conflict lasted. He wasn’t sure who was right in this situation, but assumed it was probably neither of them.

Their food came, and it quieted them both again. They resumed watching each other. Before he met Snafu, Gene would’ve felt self-conscious having someone watch him while he ate, but he was so used to Shelton watching him he hardly cared.

“What do you do for fun around here? Or did you, I guess.”

“Gambling,” Snafu answered, “Won’t do it anymore though.” Gene wanted to tread carefully. He didn’t want another discussion like the one they’d endured the last time they ate a meal together.

“You get sick of it?” Gene tried.

“The opposite, I’d gamble the pants right off you if I could.” Snafu looked around at the other customers. Probably trying to determine whether anyone was listening to them.

“Always trying to get my pants off,” Gene mumbled under his breath.

Snafu grinned. “Whata’bout you? What’d a sweet, handsome, southern boy like you do back home?”

It donned on Gene he and Snafu had never really talked about their interests. Small talk was almost inconceivable during the war. For a moment, he worried whether he and Snafu would realize they weren’t compatible. He tried to tuck it away, focus on the conversation. “Reading, writing,” Gene felt a sadness tugging at his heart, “I used to hunt with my dad, but…..I’d take Deacon, my dog, out for walks…” He faded. There was so much he took for granted. And now it was gone.

Snafu tried to reel him back in, “Writing what? Like journaling?”

Gene picked at his food. Snafu grabbed a piece of Gene’s toast, took a bite out of it, then threw it down on his plate. Gene glared, grabbed it, and shoved the whole piece in his mouth. “S’mine,” He said around his mouth full of toast.

“Your parents never taught you how to share? Boy, I’m gonna write them a letter. Ask them why they never taught their son any manners.” Snafu gently kicked at Gene’s foot under the table.

Gene threw a balled-up napkin at him. The women at the table next to them glared.

Gene tried to maintain Snafu’s attention before he told the women to ‘mind your own fuckin’ business.’ “Sometimes I’d journal. Sometimes I’d just write stories.” Gene could feel himself blushing. He didn’t know why he felt embarrassed.

“Oh yeah?” Snafu seemed pleasantly surprised, “Can I read it?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t exactly bring it with me as a gift.” Gene finished his last few bites of food. They’d need to leave promptly if they hoped to catch the bus.

“I know that, ya pain in the ass. I meant when I go home with you.” Snafu said.

Gene looked at him. They’d already decided that was a terrible idea. Snafu grabbed the check while Gene was still mentally exploring what Snafu had insinuated. Snafu paid, and then grabbed his share of Gene’s bags. Gene was still staring.

“Come on, we can philosophize later. Let’s go.” Snafu delicately kicked at Gene’s chair until he stood up and grabbed his bags.

“We’re gonna talk more about this later,” Gene said.

“You got it, dreamboat. Let’s go, please.” Snafu was already walking away. Gene laughed softly and followed him.

They boarded the bus, sat down, and waited for the bus conductor to pass. Gene hurriedly paid for the tickets before Snafu could. Once the bus conductor left them with their stubs, Snafu shoved at Gene. “I was gonna get that.”

“You’ve paid for everything so far! I’m not a freeloader.” Gene reasoned.

“You not interested in a sugar daddy then?” Snafu said, his smile wide and mischievous. Gene quickly glanced around to make sure no one heard, then laughed and shoved Snafu back.

“I already have a daddy I don’t need another one.” He whispered. He couldn’t hide his grin.

“We’ll see ‘bout that. A couple more nights like last night you might be changin’ your mind.” Snafu’s grin managed to widen.

“Shhhh, shut up,” Gene was laughing though, “You’re a scoundrel.”

Snafu, still grinning, reached underneath the bags they’d set between them and grabbed Gene’s hand. He squeezed. Gene smiled fondly and squeezed back. Gene wanted so badly to tell Merriell that he loved him, but they’d taken enough risks for one day. The rest of the trip passed in silence. It wasn’t long before they’d reached their stop. Snafu untangled their hands and grabbed his share of the bags. Gene followed suit. They stepped off the bus and out into Jackson. It was a quaint little town. A couple churches stood within view. Gene wondered if Merriell had ever attended them with his family. Gene tried to imagine Shelton growing up in this town.

“We gotta catch another bus, I live out in the sticks.” Snafu said.

“Ugh,” Gene looked heavenward, “Of course you do. One of us is getting a license as soon as possible.”

“I’m workin’ on it. I’m tryi’na save up money for it first.” Snafu drawled.

Another bus ride completed, and they were very much ‘in the sticks.’ They stepped off the bus and onto a long dirt driveway. They were surrounded by highway and trees. When Gene imagined Snafu growing up, he always imagined him in the city. Gene wasn’t sure why. It surprised him to know Snafu had grown up so isolated from the rest of the world. It strengthened Gene’s remorse for Shelton’s parents being gone. Maybe Snafu really didn’t have anyone else now. He followed Snafu up the driveway until a two-story brick house came into view. There was an old beat up barn off to the left. The front porch looked a bit weathered as well. When Gene started ascending the stairs they creaked awfully. He winced.

“The good news is no one’s gonna sneak up on us here.” Snafu joked. Gene laughed, and waited as Snafu unlocked the door and let Gene in. Gene stepped inside and was surprised by the bare walls. Anyone could’ve lived in this house. There was nothing tying Snafu to it. Gene thought of his own home, with family pictures everywhere you glanced. Or at least decorations and paintings strewn about. Even Gene’s bedroom had more pictures than the several rooms Gene could glance from where he was standing. His house in Mobile was lived in. Lively. Loving. This house was home to no one. Gene’s sadness for Snafu grew.

Snafu rubbed at his collar, “You wishin’ we was back at the hotel instead?” He asked. He tried to sound playful.

Gene turned to look at Snafu. His sadness spread until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Gene dropped his bags and threw his arms around Snafu, causing Snafu’s bags to drop as well. Gene hugged him, hard. Snafu must’ve been surprised because it took him several moments to reciprocate. Gene kissed him, hard. Tangling his fingers in Snafu’s curls. Gene tried to pour every ounce of love that he held for Merriell into this kiss. Tried to fill him up with it. Snafu moaned. Gene pulled Snafu along with him until he could sit him down in one of the kitchen chairs. Gene hit his knees and started unbuttoning Snafu’s pants.

“Jesus christ, Eugene.” Snafu chuckled. “I was gonna show you around first before we christened the place.”

Gene smiled and pulled Snafu’s pants and shorts down as Snafu lifted his hips. Gene wasted no time taking Snafu in his mouth. Swirling his tongue over the head like he did the night before. Snafu groaned loudly, no reason for them to be chaste anymore. Gene tried not to overthink this. It was a blowjob for heaven’s sake, how could you mess that up? He flattened his cheeks and held his breath, pushing Snafu all the way to the back of his throat and holding him there. 1-2-3….Gene pulled off and let out the breath he’d been holding. Snafu fisted his hands in Gene’s hair and gently pushed Gene’s head back down. Gene sucked in air through his nose again and obliged. After Merriell held him in place for several seconds, he released his hold on Gene so he could come up for air. Gene blew the air back out of his nose. They repeated their dance together. Shelton steering Gene, Gene giving him whatever he asked for. Gene unbuttoned his pants, dragged them down with one hand, then took his own cock in his fist. Snafu’s eyes were instantly on Gene’s hand. Snafu released his hold on him and knocked Gene’s hand away. He leaned forward, spit into his palm, and wrapped it around Gene’s cock. Meanwhile, Gene maintained the pace Snafu had set for him before he’d released his hold on Gene’s hair.

“Gonna come, cher….You don’t gotta—” Gene moaned and released Snafu’s cock from his mouth until only the head remained between his lips. Gene wrapped his fist around the base. He resumed swirling his tongue. Snafu’s hand stilled on Gene’s cock as he got lost in the feeling of his own orgasm building. He was moaning loudly. Gene matched Snafu’s moans, spurring him on. Eventually, Gene felt heat hit his tongue and he swallowed. Took everything Snafu had to give him. Continued swirling his tongue until Snafu twitched from being overstimulated. Gene released him and sat back on his feet with his knees bent. Snafu sat there breathing deeply, then wiped his face and propelled himself out of the chair and onto the floor with Gene. It was no easy task when Snafu’s pants were still around his thighs. Gene chuckled and laid on his back.

“Wanna try something,” Snafu mumbled and tugged Gene’s own pants and shorts down his thighs. Then Snafu shoved at Gene until he rolled over. Gene stared at the front door, waiting for whatever Snafu had planned. Snafu took his own shirt off and laid it under Gene’s hips. Then Gene felt the first kiss on his left ass cheek. Gene stilled. Snafu continued pressing sloppy kisses to him. “You gotta learn to relax, Eugene. I’m not gonna hurt you. Would never hurt you,” he blew air where he had just planted a particularly wet kiss, then licked over it.

Gene panted, “Not worried you’re gonna hurt me. Worried I’m gonna make the most embarrassing noise you ever heard.”

Snafu snickered, “I like ‘em. They’re hot.” He spread Gene open and proceeded to fuck Gene with his tongue. Gene did, in fact, make a horribly embarrassing noise. And a loud one. “S’right, sweetheart, tell me all about how it feels.”

Gene was rolling his hips to meet Snafu’s tongue. Gene couldn’t talk, even if Snafu had begged him to. He just kept making loud whimpering noises. Snafu snaked a hand around and grabbed Gene’s cock. Gene came embarrassingly fast, still rolling his hips. Snafu maintained his hold on Gene’s cock until it softened. He kissed his way up Gene’s back, lifting Gene’s shirt as he went. Once Gene finally calmed down, he was once again struck by the act he’d done in front of God. He was going to have to do a hell of a lot of praying to make up for any of this. He laughed to himself.

“Whatchya laughin’ at now?” Snafu asked him. Rubbing his back.

“Us. I was a virgin not even 24 hours ago. Now I’m lying on the floor about three steps into your house with my pants around my thighs, come on your shirt, and we just did the most unspeakable thing I’ve ever heard of in my life.” Gene rubbed his forehead back and forth on his folded arms, shaking his head in disbelief.

Snafu slapped Gene’s ass with a satisfyingly loud smack then got up on his knees. Snafu yanked his pants back up and buttoned them. “We’re really cookin’ with gas now, Genie. It’s only gonna get better from here.”

Gene chuckled, “I’m gonna be dead before long. Might as well start digging a hole for me in the backyard.” Gene sat up and pulled his own pants and shorts up as he went. “You gonna give me that tour now?”

#stolperzunge #Sledgefu #sledgexshelton #sledge/shelton #TW: Christianity #Angst #But also fluff #Can I use the tag 'r*mming' and not get banned for 1000 years?#XD

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justjessame · 4 years

Text

Dr. Tali Sullivan Chapter 3: Help Comes at a Price, But Who’s Paying?

I sat back on the couch. Drying my eyes and waiting for Dean to explain. I’d moved away from him. Comfort or not, I couldn’t stand how much he smelled like John. It hurt. Like feeling like he was here when he would NEVER be here again.

“Before you tell me about Sam,” I swallowed and swiped my face with another tissue, catching the remaining leaking. “Where did you-”

Dean shot me a look and realized what I wanted to know. He looked uncomfortable. “We buried his tags at the same cemetery where Mom is.” I nodded, that made sense. “I’m sorry, Tali, if I’d known Dad hadn’t-”

I shook my head. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but dwelling on it didn’t help. Wouldn’t help. “Now what about Sam.”

He explained and I listened to what he’d learned, not only from John’s warning, but since that day in the hospital. “Dad said that I had to watch out for Sam and take care of him.” I nodded, Dean had done that from the moment that Mary had died. “To save him.” Wait, from what? “And if I couldn’t,” he swallowed hard and he looked like he’d gone green in the gills. “He wants me to kill Sam, Tali. Dad wanted me to know that if I can’t save my baby brother from whatever the hell Dad thinks he needs saving from, I have to kill him.” SHIT.

Damn it John. “He didn’t give you any idea of what you needed to save Sam from, at all?” Dean looked pained. “What did Sam say to all this?” I’d never seen Dean with pinched lips before, but now I could mark it off my bucket list. “You haven’t told him.” Shit. Fuck. “You have to.”

“No, Tali,” Dean started to argue.

“Dean Winchester,” He stopped. “Your father was the MASTER of lack of communication, and I get that you have taken hero worship of him to an obscene level,” he raised an eyebrow and started to speak, but I held up my hand. “Don’t pick this trait to mimic, Dean. Don’t do it.” He closed his mouth and studied me. “I will never know how your dad might have felt-” that punch of pain in my chest that would always accompany the regret of that knowledge. “About me. I never got to say goodbye, or tell him-” I swallowed back another flash of pain. “Don’t do that to Sam. The two of you, the ONE constant the two of you have always had, is one another. Don’t keep it from him, don’t carry the burden alone. John, your dad, carried so much pain and guilt and look at how much he missed.” I was blinking back tears again.

“Tali,” he tried to reach for my hand, but I stood up. “Dad, before he told me about Sam, he-” I looked down at him and knew. John had managed to make a bit of peace with Dean. “He told me he was proud of me. He told me not to be scared.” I snorted and Dean looked up at me in surprise.

“I’m sorry.” I offered, still blinking back my tears. “I’m glad John finally told you that he was proud, but that was a shit thing, telling you NOT to be scared and then telling you that killing Sam might become a reality for you.” Fucking John Winchester, one step forward, four steps back. “Don’t become him, Dean.” It hurt to say it. To put into words the pain I felt over the loss of him, yet the absolute certainty that he could have saved so much fucking pain if he’d just opened up more to the people he really did love. “Don’t lock it down and put the hunt ahead of everything. FEEL. Tell people how you feel. Tell them goodbye like it’s the last time you’ll ever see them or speak to them, and for God’s sake, if you love someone, don’t leave it unsaid.”

Dean left before darkness fell. He’d had a call from Sam, who I learned was getting premonitions now. He only left after I promised to answer his calls. And before he walked away, he said goodbye. He hugged me tight and promised me to check in. To let me know what he’d learned, and begged for me to find something, anything to help him save Sammy.

I got better at pushing the grief down. I became more animated during my classes, and I started researching ANYTHING that John might have meant when he gave Dean that cryptic fucking warning. I researched the Yellowed Eyed Demon, finding out more about Azazel, Ramiel, Dagon, and Asmodeus. They are higher tier demons, known for yellow eyes and their rank as Princes of Hell (well, Dagon was a ‘Princess of Hell’ I suppose, since she was female). Lucifer himself had a hand in their turning. That type of power, coupled with the extra information I managed to drag out of Dean about what he’d gone through prior to John’s death. The power of this demon, the ability to act as a deal maker, and yet flinch off the other ways that most demons get cornered in. Shit.

When the phone rang after my class, I didn’t have to look at the ID to know it was Dean. It was around the same damn time he called every damn day. “Hello, Dean.” I answered, walking toward my house. “How’s the case?”

“Ever hear of Croatoan?” I’m fine, Dean, thanks for asking. “Because for fuck’s sake, Tali, I feel like I’m in the middle of a damn Romero movie.”

“Zombies? What do zombies have to do with the lost colony of Roanoke?” I asked, shifting my messenger bag so it balanced out better during my short walk home. “I thought you were in Oregon?”

“Pretty damn sure they aren’t fucking zombies, but they’re definitely not normal.” He grunted and I heard a strange noise in the background of his call. “Sam caught sight of the word of ‘Croatoan’ carved in a telephone pole.” Bit by bit, that was Dean. Like pulling damn teeth sometimes. “Dad’s journal mentioned a demon associated with the name.”

“The plague and pestilence one.” I nodded, pulling out my keys as I walked up my walkway. “Makes sense,” I shrugged, I didn’t find the need to research demons that had been beaten into the ground by academia. “Tell me what you’re dealing with so I can work my head around what you’ve got.” He did as I walked inside the house, carefully navigating my salt line and flipping on lights after locking the door behind me. I dropped my bag on the couch and headed toward the kitchen as I listened to Dean’s report. “Yeah, that sounds like demonic germ warfare.”

“Do you have any idea of what we should do?” He asked, and I had to close my eyes against the similarities between the gruffness of his voice and John’s.

“Yeah, leave.” I heard him inhale. “Roanoke DISAPPEARED Dean. No one has any information on what the hell happened. Other than the demon’s name. No way to exorcise it or how it infects or works its bad mojo. There’s no fix for this.” I sighed, feeling useless. “Keep the blood of the infected from any of your bodily openings, and DON’T let them wound you to give you a new entrance for the infection.” I poured myself a glass of juice. “Sorry, Winchester, but this one is pretty much a blank page for me.”

“Shit.” Dean growled. “The entire town?”

I gasped. “They’re ALL infected?” Shit was right.

“No, but, enough.”

I closed my eyes and felt like a hand was gripping my heart and twisting. “Get out. Get Sam and leave. Now.” I opened my eyes and put down the glass of juice feeling nauseated. “Seriously. Leave.”

“I’ll call you later, Tali. Goodbye, sweetheart.” Damn it. Damn you, Dean Winchester, using my fucking words against me.

“You’d better fucking call, Dean. Bye.” He hit ‘end’ first and I sat down hard at my kitchen table. The Winchester men would be the literal fucking death of me.

It was the early morning, and by early I mean pre-sunrise, when my cell rang. I groped for it on the nightstand where it was charging, finally hitting ‘answer’ before it could go to voicemail.

“What?” I was groggy. I was tired and I was scared. No good ever fucking came from an early as fuck phone call.

I heard a chuckle and rolled my eyes. “I promised, Tali.” Damn it, Dean. “We made it out, I wanted to let you know, so you wouldn’t worry.”

“Ugh.” I pulled the phone away from my face to try to focus on the time showing. “It’s two o’clock in the fucking morning, Dean.” I sat up and managed to figure out how to flick on the lamp. Blinking against the minimal, yet fucking bright light, I groaned and yawned. “I only finally passed out an hour ago.” Shit, fuck.

Another quiet laugh. “I wanted to hear your voice.” Um, no. We will NOT be doing that. He sighed. “Tali, I had to hear your voice and KNOW we made it.” Ah, thank God for that clarification. “I told him.”

I squinted. He told him? Him who? Him what? “You told him?” An hour of sleep after HOURS of worry and fear didn’t help my mental processes.

“Sam.” Ah, I waited. “I told him what Dad told me.” I swallowed and let the silence grow. “He’s-”

“Confused, upset?” I answered, coming awake a bit more. “It’s understandable.”

“Yeah,” Dean sounded tired. “I should let you get back to sleep, Tali. Goodnight.”

“Night, Dean.” I swallowed against the pain of knowing that I shouldn’t feel this much for the two of them. The fear and worry. I was nothing to them. Nothing at all, passing acquaintances from childhood, that was all. “Let me know-”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.” That word again. “Night.”

The call ended and I sat there, in the dim light of one bedside lamp, staring at my phone and wishing like hell that I could talk to John one fucking last time.

#supernatural fanfiction #Dean Winchester #sam winchester #ofc

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fanfics-of-marvel · 4 years

Text

Please Stay

One Shot

Release date: 04/02/2020

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Y/N: You’ve been working with Bucky at S.H.I.E.L.D. for about a year during which you both had kept aside the fact that you like each other. Until one day Bucky unexpectedly shows up at your apartment with a most valuable present.

Words count: 3.1K

A/N: This was supposed to be a Christmas fanfic but I was unable to finish it before Christmas, so I decided to re-write it with a different theme but keeping the original idea.

Warnings: None!

One Shots | Masterlist

Taglist: @all-things-marvel-related ; @steeeeverogers ; @chipilerendi ; @starkershomelife ; @itavero-pater (still unable to properly tag this person) ; @merlin-288 ; @nutellakirb ; @livsheph ; @ivvitm1109 ; @misstummelisa ;

I’m not a native English speaker, so there might be spelling or grammatical mistakes.

This fanfic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

——————————————————–

“Bucky?” You asked surprised after you opened the door and saw him standing outside of your apartment.

You had been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. for 4 years during which you had gradually become a top level agent proving countless times your abilities. You usually worked alone or in a small team of people upon the most dangerous missions. And about a year ago you started having common missions with Bucky.

The first one happened shortly after he joined the organization alongside Sam. They were a duo, only sometimes partnering with Sharon on bigger missions. Until about a year ago.

There was a rumor of a big gang of people who were supposed to be new followers of Hydra. More agents were immediately sent to help the trio, including you. The mission was tough and you had to do a lot of spy work trying to infiltrate the alleged criminal organization. It all turned out to be a false alarm which made everyone angry. All that exertion for nothing.

It wasn’t until you had to prepare your report of the mission when you actually noticed Bucky. He’d always been just the biggest weapon of Hydra for you. The longest serving POW. A tragic victim. You never paid any attention to him while he was at the base, nor when he was at the café for lunch as well. You’d always passed by him as any other colleague at S.H.I.E.L.D.

But after your vain mission was over the task for writing the report was given to you two. And on that day for the first time you actually looked at him. Not just for a quick glance while passing by him at the corridor or coordinating your next moves on the mission. You actually looked at him. You noticed the beautiful features of his face. You sank into his captivating steel blue eyes. You melted at the sight of his smile. Your knees felt weaker at the natural scent of his body. His voice sounded like music to your ears, finally hearing it speaking softly for a normal conversation, other than yelling in the walkie-talkie how the suspects were getting away or that something was not going according to plan.

Your breath was taken away and secretly your heart was stolen. But you didn’t realize that until much later. For a while your missions were different than his, so you rarely saw each other. It wasn’t easy to forget Bucky once you’ve met him up close but your job totally consumed you, so your mind was constantly distracted. You rarely even saw him at lunch breaks.

This continued for a while until you got another order to follow Bucky and Sam into another mission. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt butterflies in your stomach knowing you would be close to Bucky again. It only got reinforced when there was a direct danger for you two and he bravely grabbed you in his arms and covered you with his body in case of bullets being fired. Face to face you could feel his warm breath upon your face. His muscly body was roughly pressed against yours. You got lost into his eyes which were looking straight into yours. You completely forgot about the ongoing situation until a nearby explosion blew the two of you few meters away.

The mission was successful and Fury started putting you on assignments alongside Sam and Bucky more often. Work was work, so you two usually kept a distance from one another. That little distraction from the previous mission could have costed both of you your lives. Completely synchronized you two started avoiding each other and only allowing some momentary glances here and there.

Until that tragic day.

Completely unexpected there was a terrorist attack with a suicide bomber. 115 people dead and more than 500 people injured. You were immediately sent with Bucky, Sam and other agents to investigate the premises. The hardest mission you’ve ever had.

With a heavy heart you learned that amongst the victims was your beloved aunt – your only living relative who adopted you after your parents died when you were just a teenager. You were devastated.

Then it was the only time when Bucky allowed closeness between you two. He held you in his arms as you cried and cried until his jacket was very wet. His soft right hand stroked your head as he spoke gently in your ear assuring you that everything would be alright. How she was at a better place now and he would always be there for you when you needed him.

But shortly after the funeral the distance between you two got bigger again. Your strength didn’t let you have any breakdowns and you took the hit like a hero. You didn’t need Bucky. Not at all.

“What are you doing here?” You asked a little shocked. Bucky didn’t know where you lived which meant he had asked at the base particularly for your address.

“I’m sorry to be bothering you.” He replied seemingly uncomfortable.

You looked at him concerned. Your heart skipped a bit. Could it be that another tragedy had occurred?

“May I come in?” Bucky finally asked after a short pause.

You took your time too. You weren’t certain whether you wanted to let him in or not. Nobody at S.H.I.E.L.D. really knew where you lived except some high-ranking agents such as Fury and Hill. And you preferred it that way. It gave you a certain level of calmness and you knew the chances of complications were lower. You loved your privacy and intimate zone. And now suddenly Bucky was invading it.

“Of course.” You finally said as you walked away from the door, so he could walk in.

You noticed he was caring a small box nicely wrapped as a present. The paper was dark purple with a light purple ribbon on top. Your favourite colour.

As Bucky stood in front of you as close as possible you noticed everything about him again. His beautiful blue eyes, the handsome manly features of his face, the barely perceptible scent of a cologne. Had he dressed up for you? He was wearing a nice plane shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. He was clean shaven and his hair was nicely combed. His metal arm was discretely hidden underneath a glove. During missions and at the base he was always at his battle outfit, his hair was messy, he always had a stubble beard and he never wore any cologne. This was either for you or he was going on a date afterwards.

So many thoughts of him passed through your head. So many old memories which you had suppressed because you thought it was wrong to seek any closeness with him for he was your colleague at S.H.I.E.L.D. An agent with whom you had common missions. A forbidden man even though there was nobody to forbid Bucky from you.

You suddenly remembered how beautiful of a person he was with a most soft soul. You remembered a particular mission during which he had risked his life in order to save a small puppy from eminent danger. How, during another mission, he had fed some homeless people on his way to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s target. Or about the fact he could often be seen spending time with some WWII veterans as he told them stories of his own, too.

But most of all you remembered the mission during which your bodies were entangled together as Bucky protected you from a possible direct hit. And when he held you in his arms while you cried after losing your aunt. You had never felt such warmness and caring prior to it.

“Is there any particular reason you came here?” You finally asked even though you knew there must be one.

“Erm…” Bucky seemed nervous and slightly uncertain of what he had preliminary intended to do coming to your apartment.

He was looking down at the present he was holding as if it would tell him what to do next.

“Is this for me?” You finally asked. You didn’t want him to torture himself any longer.

Bucky took a deep breath somewhat relieved. “Yes.” He said after which he handed it towards you.

You were looking at the box wrapped in purple at Bucky’s hands. What could he possibly be giving you? It wasn’t your birthday, nor Christmas. Maybe he was confused?

“Thank you.” You quietly said after you took the present from his hands. You looked at it for a while. “Why purple?” You finally spoke.

Bucky looked down seemingly embarrassed. “You mentioned once purple is your favourite colour.”

“I don’t remember talking about it with you.”

“You didn’t.” Bucky replied even more embarrassed. “I overheard you during lunchtime once. You were talking to agent Ross.”

You observed him for a moment. Perhaps while you hadn’t paid attention to him during lunch, he had paid attention to you.

With very careful and uncertain moves you started unwrapping the present. Bucky observed you cautiously. The box beneath the wrapping paper looked like a jewelry box. You gasped. Why would he be giving you any jewelries? You slowly opened it and found a medallion inside.

You looked at Bucky a little bit confused. The medallion looked awfully familiar.

“I found it during our final mission.” Bucky started. “I knew about the medallion and what it meant to you because I’ve heard you talking about it during lunch.” He paused for a moment. “I saw it lying on the ground covered with dirt. Easy to miss.” He pointed at the locking mechanism. “It was broken and I guess that’s how it fell. I bought you a new chain but if you want the old one I still have it at home.” He added speaking so softly.

With watery eyes you looked down at the object in your hands. You took the medallion out of the box. You pressed the mechanism and it opened like a book. You saw the only photos which you had left of your parents whom you lost in a fire alongside all of your belongings prior to it.

“Oh, Bucky…” You gasped overwhelmed of reuniting with your invaluable possession. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.” He replied gently. After a short pause he continued. “I didn’t know how to give it back to you. I thought I could hand it to somebody else who would then give it to you. Maybe send it to your apartment or leave it on your desk at S.H.I.E.L.D. But…” There was another pause during which the two of you just stared into each other’s eyes. “I thought it’ll be best to give it to you personally.”

By this time actual tears were falling down your face. Your lower lip was trembling. You couldn’t even find any words.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing you could say.

Then abruptly you felt Bucky’s burly body pressed at yours as your hands were wrapped around his neck. Your breath stopped for a moment when you felt his hands replying to your hug by putting them around your waist. You stayed like this for a few seconds inhaling the divine scent of his body mixed with the cologne.

“Come here.” Bucky said as he gently pushed you away and then turned you around still holding you.

You felt his warm right hand moving your hair away revealing your neck exposed. You could feel the gentle tickle from his breath. Shivers ran throughout your entire body.

Suddenly, both of his arms were around you as they gently took the medallion from your hand. You noticed he had removed the glove as his metal arm was gleaming underneath your corridor lamp’s light. He put the medallion around your neck.

Bucky’s hands remained upon your exposed skin for a moment while his lips were just a few centimeters away. You felt like he was fighting against the desire to kiss the nude skin of your neck. You closed your eyes expecting this to happen any moment breathing heavily. Instead you felt Bucky stepping away.

“I guess I should be going.” He said.

You opened your eyes disappointed. Not the sequence you hoped for. You slowly turned to him and looked him straight in his eyes.

“Stay.” You whispered.

The closeness of his body and mind, his breath upon your skin, his scent, his soul was all that you wanted right now.

“Please stay.” You whispered again as you made a step closer to him.

“I can’t.” Bucky whispered back.

You knew very well why he was saying that. He was afraid of what might follow. You were colleagues at S.H.I.E.L.D. There was no direct ban against two agents dating but such relationships weren’t much tolerated because the management thought it might affect their work or might lead to compromising the missions.

“Y/N, you know I can’t stay.” Bucky was insistent as you made another step towards him.

“But I want you to stay.” You were right in front of him looking at his sparkling eyes.

“Bucky…” You whispered as you put your hands around his face and gently pulled it down towards your lips while lifting yourself up.

Bucky didn’t fight it. He couldn’t fight it. A moment later your lips touched his. Both of you shuddered. The kiss was long and sweet.

After that you moved away and looked him in the eyes hoping to read what they were saying. Instead Bucky put his arms around your waist again and pressed his lips at yours. Your bodies trembled even more. The kiss turned into a gentle making out. You ruffled Bucky’s hair while he pressed you even harder at his body.

When the kiss was finally over you held Bucky’s cold metal arm in your small warm hand. “Stay.” You whispered again as you walked further inside your apartment.

Bucky obediently followed you without any resistance. While smiling and looking back at him you suddenly bumped into a wall. Bucky took the chance by pressing your body at it with his and kissed you passionately until you got dizzy and sweaty.

Then for the rest of the day you two got completely consumed by each other. You spoke about your parents. You told Bucky who they were, what they did for a living. How your mom used to make a Sunday cake for the three of you every week. Or how mad your dad would get every time you said you were going out with a boy. You told him of that time when your mom almost forgot you at a supermarket when you were little because she got carried away talking to a friend. And how loving and caring your parents were until a house fire took them away from you.

In his own turn Bucky told you about his life when he was growing up. What meals his mom used to make and what a troublesome son he was. How he used to do mischiefs all the time and how often he would drag his sister into them as well. And how she always got away with it because their parents knew that it was entirely his fault. And even though his dad would punish Bucky for his misbehaviour he couldn’t have been more proud of his son when Bucky joined the army. But Bucky’s smile slowly faded as he reached the point of the war talking about the misery he had gone through.

You two absorbed any word told by the other and before you knew it a few hours had passed. Completely drained by each of your stories you two were just sitting and looking into each other. You had never felt closer to anybody beforehand and same was applicable about Bucky.

Then he took any chance to kiss you again and again as you tried to make dinner. He helped you prepare it while holding you from behind with his body pressed at yours. Whispering gently in your ear how much he’d always liked you since the very beginning. How you had taken over his mind but he had always kept it inside in fear of compromising his or your work at S.H.I.E.L.D.

And after you two had dinner Bucky held you in his arms for a slow dance when the proper song came on the radio. His metal arm was pressing you at his body as to ensure that you wouldn’t run away from him. And once when the song was over he continued holding you for a while without saying a word as you two were consumed in the moment.

Then came your sudden muse to make cookies when Bucky trashed your entire kitchen. Remembering the times when his mom used to make cookies when he was a kid the child in him awoke. The naughty little boy returned as he blew some flour in your face as a tease and held objects in the air knowing you were too short to reach them. When you tried to protest Bucky grabbed you from behind and kissed your neck purposely tickling it. You screamed in hopes of help even though you loved this. In these acts you pushed down numerous objects off of the countertop breaking jars and spilling ingredients. Then Bucky started eating the dough before you had made the figures in which you wanted to bake the cookies. You wanted to stop him but he started running around the kitchen pushing down even more things.

Once you had managed to put the cookies in the oven you pretended to be angry and offended, even though you had fun. But Bucky read straight through you as he started tickling your entire body. You screamed and tried to run away. Bucky was chasing you throughout the entire apartment when you accidentally tripped and fell. You laughed like crazy as Bucky sat down next to you laughing as well. Then he held you and lifted you up.

Your bodies were close again and your lips found each other on their own. Bucky put you on the countertop with his hands wrapped around your waist. Your hands were around his neck gently stroking the back of his head while your legs were squeezing the sides of his hips.

Kiss after kiss, abruptly, you sensed the smell of something burning. “The cookies”, you screamed but it was too late. You were disappointed that all of your efforts were ruined. But Bucky gently kissed your forehead and said “It doesn’t matter”. Then he lifted you and carried you the couch. He ordered to stay there and find a nice movie to watch. Few minutes later he came back with two mugs of hot cocoa. You smiled like an idiot as you snuggled at him drinking the sweet delicious drink.

Once you finished them Bucky took the nearby blanket and lied down on the couch making sure your head was upon his big chest. You sunk in the divine scent of his body. What a luck it was that you happened to lose your medallion.

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Thank you for reading! If you liked it please react - reply/like/reblog! Your support is appreciated!

This fanfic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

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b-hardys · 5 years

Text

familiarity / roger taylor

✩ __ hasn’t seen roger since she ran out of his flat one sunday morning, but after a gig is just the perfect time, right? wrong.

a/n this took almost a week to write? hopefully this is okay have a lovely weekend its 1:30am in melbourne and its officially the weekend ok im rambling I love roger and wish I was a singer oops (p.s wish I was dead and deadly doll are actually songs by jesse jo stark so check her out!)

With every blink, she swore he had moved to another spot within the crowded and musty pub. The gig had been good, room for improvement, sure - Fletcher had slipped up on a cord on the ground and knocked into Rowan’s drum-kit, throwing off the drumbeat in the midst of “Wish I Was Dead” - but a good gig nonetheless. The ‘afterparty’ or pub crawl, whatever you wanted to call it, was in full swing, the place had to be at full capacity, but people kept filing in. The word throughout the cramped and claustrophobic crowd was that “Queen was here tonight!” and whether or not the foursome had been at the gig or not threw __ into a tailspin.

“You know, you can be upset he’s here.” Rowan’s thick Irish accent never failed to frighten the young woman when it appeared out of nowhere. ‘He’ had to be Roger, __ hadn’t seen him since she stumbled out of his shared flat that Sunday afternoon, too overwhelmed with her own emotions to even grab the coat she’d left on the rack by the door or the pyjamas she had hung up to dry by the radiator. The decision to break up with him had been festering within her head from the moment whatever his fucking ex’s name was came tumbling into __’s life. The constant foreshadowing of Roger being unfaithful or leaving her behind in the dust circulated around and around her mind; one person can only harbour so much paranoia before they crumble.

“I should not be upset, I broke up with him. I can’t go gallivanting around being upset and torn apart, that’s just unfair.” __’s stance on her emotions and her guilt had been implanted within her while she pinballed herself home through the crowded and wet streets of London that fateful afternoon. This decision to bottle everything up inside once she reached the elevator of her building had been eating away at her, no matter what she did or how many pep talks she’d tried to give herself in the mirror - quietly, the walls were thin and Fletcher’s room is beside hers.

The more __ thought about it, the more she drank. Between the drinks being handed to her with the passing comment of “fucking good set tonight!” and those being bought between the trio that was Deadly Doll, __ found herself fucking plastered. Her legs ached from bouncing around with Fletcher and Rowan and their girlfriends and anyone who had bounded into the sunken floor being used for a dancefloor, and her head felt like it wasn’t even attached to her shoulders anymore as if it was floating above her.

Having lost sight of Rowan and Fletcher hours earlier, __ seemed to be floating from social group to social group, and she swore she’d stopped for a moment to compliment Freddie on the coat he was wearing - but with how discombobulated and colluded her mind was at that present time it could have been anyone wearing a garbage bag for all she knew. Her eyes, no matter how hazy her vision, could always pinpoint the blue-eyed bombshell that had invaded her life and personal space for the eight months prior to a fortnight ago. Her eyes could also spot the smaller brunette attached to him, her baby pink blouse effortlessly knotted at her stomach and her jeans hugging in all the right places. Her lingering hand wandering up and down the expanse of Roger’s arm turned __’s night immediately sour. Any thought or feeling of accomplishment or victory they’d been celebrating had completely vanished from view, the only thought or feeling remaining being one of utter, drunken, sadness.

Fletcher knew, more than anyone, how much breaking up with Roger had truly affected __. Her mood at home was almost a half-version of herself. Her time, and thoughts, were commonly associated with music, and music only, as if a moment outside of their blossoming career would just be a haunting reminder of how much she’d let outside sources control and manipulate her happiness. Fletcher also, had his own drunk girlfriend to take care of, as well as himself - they weren’t getting home by sheer intuition, he knew that. So upon finding the young woman he classified as his best friend, not that he would ever admit it out loud, drunkenly sulking and borderline crying in the corner of the dingy and hot pub they’d been bouncing around in for the past couple of hours, he was truly worried.

“__, hey, hey, c’mon you need to calm down.” His hot, clammy hands tried their hardest to soothe the younger woman with her hair askew and the lace trimming of her tank top so uncomfortably itching her skin. “It’s just everything unbottling itself, you're alright.” Her mind had truly snapped, the tether she had been so desperate to maintain had finally worn down and everything was just seeping out of her. By no means was this a private escapade, the two of them drunkenly embracing in the corner while one of them was crying was so easy for everyone to see - the flickering neon light above them was definitely not helping either.

“Hey mate, your girlfriend is looking- oh, Christ.” The sight before Roger was purely heartbreaking. From that Sunday afternoon onwards, __’s pyjamas hadn’t moved from the clotheshorse beside the radiator, and her perfume remained atop his chest of draws, the smell still lingering on her former side of his bed. “What - I mean, what’s going on?” Between __ sitting in Fletcher’s lap, her body slightly shaking and Fletcher’s horrified and concerned expression, Roger was rightfully worried about what the fuck was happening in front of him.

“She just had a lot to drink, and you know her! She’s just bottled everything up - it’s come out.” __ just could not control the absolute gibberish that was piling out of her mouth. The neverending “I’m sorry” and “I want to go home” just accumulating between the three of them in the corner. “I need to go find Clara. Rog, can you just wait with her? I’ll come back when I find Clara!”

Roger truly had not seen __ since she ran out his and Brian’s flat; hours before when she was singing her heart out on stage being the only exception. And now, standing in the corner whole Fletcher was scanning his eyes around searching for his girlfriend (who he was not going to find while sitting there consoling __), Roger knew that he had to step in. “I’ll take __ home. You go find Clara, I’ll get __ to call ya’ in the morning.”

With a nod and some acknowledgement, Fletcher was off squeezing through all of the patrons still loitering around, thankfully too drunk to notice that __ was drunk off of her face and plunging her face into the space between Roger’s neck and shoulder.

Trying to manoeuvre __ through the lobby towards the elevator had to be one of the hardest struggles Roger had faced within the past couple of months (not including his heart being split straight down the middle, with __ running down the street with her respective half). __ could stand, but hardly, her drowsiness and alcohol intake severely slowing down her inhibitions and co-ordination.

“Rog, I’m so sorry I’m your problem, I’m so sorry.” Sitting on the end of Roger’s bed simply felt so wrong and invasive. Even considering her drunken state, __ could recognise herself all over the small bedroom. Articles of her clothing still lingering in the room, polaroids of the two of them stuck up amongst the posters and mock-up Queen memorabilia. “I’m just, wow, just so sorry.” The tension in the room was ultimately suffocating, and awkward. __ didn't know what to do, didn't know where to put her hands or whether or not she should fumble around and try to take her shoes off.

Roger still looked the same - his hair a mess and his clothes so haphazardly mismatched but like it always did, it worked, everything worked for Roger. He was so gentle, even through the process that was trying to undress __ he was always so, so gentle. Even though __’s arms could hardly hold themselves up and she kept almost crying whenever she remembered that she was in Roger’s room again, with him and that she missed him, so, so much. Managing to manoeuvre __ down into his bed and under the covers had to be a mission, and he knew that the glitter she’d covered her eye-lids in was going to be all over his covers in the morning, but Roger could care less.

“It’s so inappropriate but please just stay with me.” The soft whisper would have been completely drowned out if anyone else had been inside the flat in those early hours of the morning. If Brian was pondering around or fiddling with his guitar, Roger would not have heard __’s plea for him to stay with her.

And yes, it was inappropriate. And yes, Roger should have said no and slept on the couch, or even Brian’s bed that remained unused that night. But, looking down at her lying underneath his covers once again, latching herself onto the pillow that used to be claimed as her own, he became a weaker version of himself. And four o’clock in the morning became the perfect time for Roger to slide in beside __, for __ to snuggle herself up beside the man she missed so much, and for Roger to lay the smallest, chaste kiss atop of __’s temple. They’d deal with whatever their intoxicated minds had decided was normal later in the morning.

I’m feeling like I might write a part two to this but we’ll see if my uni workload agrees with that idea, let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! I really like these characters and story so who knows. x

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x oc #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor one shot #borhap imagine #borhap x reader #roger taylor

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justauthoring · 6 years

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Running, Freedom, Salvation (12/19)

Prompt: “Run, run, run. That’s all we ever do. All we’ve ever done.” You paused, feeling the wind brush through your hair. Taking a deep breath, steadied yourself and met his eyes. “Do you think it’ll finally stop?”

Maze Runner: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

Scorch Trials: one - two - three - four - five - six

Death Cure: one - two - three - four - five

I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Author’s Notes: Just for anyone who doesn’t know, or hadn’t read the books. Stephen is Thomas’s actual name, the name he was given by his parents.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Based off of: 10-15 minutes of Scorch Trials after the second part.

Tag List: @blackbrokerosey - @some-fantasy-thoughts - @ilovemymoose - @alienadvocate - @itsfangirlmendes - @thatproffessionalfangirl - @nightingalethewriter - @143amberrose - @joycewrites - @floweryukheii - @hey-margot - @hippieballs - @wearegoldeninthenight - @betcoop - @crystalshines2909 - @darthweasley7 - @desired-love- - @honeymoonavenue - @legit-fandom-trash - @musicandbeat - @thespeedofwind - @sellinxhs - @sumlariss - @togetherlikepeanutbutterandjelly - @sarcasmdunbar - @strangerthingsluv - @mythicalamphitrite - @thisishowieroll - @independentgirl - @heathernsweets - @illumminated Wanna be TAGGED? Message me letting me know! italics means those Tumblr won’t let me tag.

“Come on. Keep up.”

You found that her voice drifted to the back of your mind, your focus and attention completely captured by the building you found yourself in. You knew it’d been larger, given the size and length of it, but being inside, able to see everything for yourself was a different experience.

The area was filled with people, lights and chattering. You can’t ever remember seeing such a sight.

“Jorge wants to meet you.”

You glanced back at Newt, who stood beside you, raising a single brow in question. Though, you didn’t say anything and silently followed the girl you’d met only minutes prior up the stairs, to where you could only imagine, Jorge, resided in.

When you reached the top of the stairs, Thomas, who was right behind the girl, asked; “who’s Jorge?”

The girl glanced back at Thomas briefly, before setting her sights before herself once again. “You’ll see,” she said simply, never pausing in her step. “No one’s come out of the Scorch in a long time. You’ve just got him curious.” Once again, she glanced back at the group of you, and the line you’d all been spread out in, grouped together at the front. “And, me too.”

Your brows furrowed when you felt a presence behind you, and turning, you pursed your lips in disgust when you saw the group of people that had crowded behind you. Most of it was filled with men, and you shivered at the lecherous smile one of them gave you, finding yourself suddenly very uncomfortable.

Looking to your left, you gained both Newt’s and Fry’s attention, frowning deeply.

Newt mimicked your reaction. “Anyone else starting to get a bad feeling about this place?” He questioned, raising a brow. Silently, you agreed.

“Let’s just hear him out,” Thomas said, turning back to glance at Newt, “see what he has to say.”

You didn’t completely trust place, and with the way these people were staring at you, everything within you was screaming for you to get out. But, you trusted Thomas, so you said nothing. You only shook your head at Newt, who frowned in response, placing a hand against your lower back as he pushed you in front of him slightly.

And, with that, you continued to follow the girl, no further questions asked, as she led you up another set of stairs. At the top was another room, decorated almost like an office, and in the middle sat a man. A man you assumed must be Jorge.

You were correct when Brenda called out; “Jorge, they’re here.”

“Quiet,” Jorge hushed, never turning around to face you as you all continued to make your way further into the room. You remained by Newt’s side, feeling better sticking close to everyone then spreading out. “Damnit,” Jorge cursed, ripping out a wire from whatever he was messing with. Then, with a huff, he turned, setting his hands on his hips. “Do you ever get the feeling the whole world’s against you?”

You couldn’t help but glance around yourself, thinking; “yeah, i’d say i’ve been feeling that pretty much since I woke up in the damn box”. But, you kept your mouth shut, sharing a look with Newt and Minho.

“Three questions,” Jorge continued, stepping forward. “Where did you come from? Where are you going? How can I profit?”

A echo of silence passed around the group of you.

“Don’t all answer at once.”

“We’re headed for the mountains.” Thomas finally answered, nodding to himself. “Looking for the Right Arm.”

You furrowed your brows when those around you laughed, and Jorge’s lips curved into a smile. “You’re looking for ghosts, you mean.” He said, before taking a drink of water. You felt your brows furrow in confusion and doubt, what exactly did that mean? “Question number two. Where did you come from?”

Thomas and Minho glanced at each other, and you bit your lip. If WICKED was searching for you, and from what you’ve seen, they’re not a small corporation. You gathered that Minho and Thomas were thinking the same thing as you - best not tell this man, Jorge, or anyone else, exactly where you come from. Not when your lives are at stake.

“That’s our business,” Minho answered shortly.

For a moment, Jorge didn’t say or do anything. Then, he tilted his head just a bit and two men from either side of you rushed forward, grabbing onto Thomas and Minho. You lunged forward to help them, but in the next second, one of the men had grabbed ahold of you, pulling your arms behind you and restricting you. Men and women did the same to everyone else, holding your friends back while they harassed Thomas.

Thomas was pushed to his knees, as the same girl from before came stepping forward, some sort of machine in her hand.

“Get off me!” Thomas bellowed, struggling in the man’s grip. “Get the hell off me, man!”

“Shut up, you big baby.” The girl laughed, grabbing the top of Thomas’s head and pushing it forward. Taking the machine, she pressed it against the nape of his neck, a red light blaring on Thomas’s skin as it scanned. Your eyes widened when you noticed something appeared, something that couldn’t be seen without that red light.

“What is that?” Thomas huffed.

Slowly, those holding you back and the rest let you go. You shoved the man away, glaring at him as you panted, fixing your shirt.

“You were right,” the girl said, glancing down at the machine she held in her hand. Passing it over to Jorge, who quickly slipped on a pair of glasses, you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Right about what?” Thomas questioned, “what is she talking about?”

Laughing, Jorge looked back over at Thomas. “I’m sorry, hermano,” he sighed. And for some reason, his words didn’t settle right within you. Instantly, you knew something was going to go wrong. “Looks like you’re tagged. You came from WICKED.”

And just like that, you felt your heart plummet, a bout of anxiousness flood through you.

“Which means...” Jorge continued, “you’re very valuable.”

“Good plan, Thomas. ‘Just hear what the man has to say’. Really working out for us.”

“Shut up, Minho.”

Huffing, you glanced around yourself the best you could, trying to ignore the feeling of blood rushing to your head. Even though Minho’s sarcasm was a little too much at times, you couldn’t help but agree with him. Thomas’s plan was the reason why you found yourself hanging upside down over a drop that would surely kill you.

“Maybe I can reach the rope,” Thomas mumbled, trying to lean up. With grunts of struggles, he tried to grab the rope connected to his feet, ultimately what was keeping him in the air and not falling to his death.

“Enjoying the view,” a new voice said.

Turning your head, you frowned when you saw Jorge step forward, a deep hatred burning in your gut for the man.

“What the hell do you want?” Thomas spat.

Stepping in front of Thomas, Jorge smirked. “That is the question. My men want to sell you back to WICKED. Life has taught them to think small. I’m not like that. Something tells me that you’re not either.”

“Is the blood rushing to my head or is this shank not making any sense?” Minho snarked, and you couldn’t help but scoff slightly.

“No,” you sighed, “he’s definitely not making any sense.” Then, you raised a brow, “then again, the blood could be rushing to my head, too.”

You glared right back at Jorge when he stepped over to you, sending both you and Minho a dark look. It didn’t last long, and in the next second, he was turning back to Thomas. “Tell me what you know about the Right Arm.”

“I thought you said they were ghosts,” Newt spat.

“I happen to believe in ghosts. Especially, when I hear them chattering on the airwaves.”

You felt your heart rate increase, watching as Jorge stepped over to the machine that was connected to the rope tied around your feet. Threateningly, he set his hand on the lever, ready to push it at any point. “You tell me what you know, and maybe we can make a deal.”

“We don’t know much,” Thomas breathed, shaking his head.

You watched Jorge’s hand, preparing yourself for the moment, but when it came, a yelp of surprise still left your lips. You shot down, falling for what felt like ever, but was only seconds.

“Okay! Okay, all right.” Thomas panicked, shaking his hands at Jorge. “They’re hiding in the mountains. And they attacked WICKED. They got out a bunch of kids. That’s it. That’s all we know.”

A breath relief left you when you saw Jorge step away from the lever. You felt hope flood you that maybe he’d believed Thomas, and his words were true. That you could strike a deal with him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a new voice interrupted him; “hey, Jorge.”

One of the men from before, the man that had given you the creeps when you’d first saw him, stepped into the room. “What’s going on?”

“Me and my new friends were just getting acquainted. We’re done now.”

You furrowed your brows, baffled. There was something else going on here. You’d thought it was weird how suddenly Jorge had changed his mind before, threatening to sell you to WICKED and then saying he didn’t think so small. Now, suddenly, his offer to help was off the table.

“Hey, wait,” Thomas called, just as baffled as you. “You’re not gonna help us?”

“Don’t worry, hermano. We’ll get you back to where you belong.” Your lips parted, utterly confused when he turned, walking out of the room. “Hang tight.”

“Yes!”

You let out a breath of relief, the edges of your lips curling upwards softly when you saw Teresa finally grab ahold of the ramp. After multiple unsuccessful tries, she managed to grab ahold of the lever, yanking it down. She fell towards the ledge, landing on her bum as she steadied herself.

Another yelp left your lips when you suddenly fell downwards once again, before coming to an abrupt stop.

“Good evening! This is the World Catastrophe Killzone Department.”

You felt your heart plummet, a sick feeling flood you the moment you heard Janson’s voice. You impatiently turned, finding Thomas, who’d managed to grab the edge and pull himself up, start untying the rope wrapped around his feet. And Teresa, who’d just finished doing the same, push herself to a stand, tucking lose strands of hair behind her ears.

“We have your compound completely surrounded. You find yourselves, through no fault of your own... in possession of WICKED property. Return them to us unharmed and we’ll consider this a simple misunderstanding. Or you can resist...”

“Newt!”

Teresa stepped forward, extending a pole out towards Newt. He accepted it easily, and slowly, she started pulling him in. The moment he could grab onto the edge, she begun untying the restraints around his ankles, helping him to his feet once he was free. The moment Newt was on his own two feet once again, he took the pole from Teresa’s hands, instantly heading over to you.

“And every last one of you will die. It won’t be long before the Flare wipes out the rest of us. The hope of a cure lies in your hands.”

“Y/N!” Without hesitation, you grabbed onto the same pole Newt had, this time him being the one to extend it towards you. Slowly, he pulled you in, until you were able to grab ahold of the edge of the floor and pull yourself off. Newt quickly handed Thomas the pole, to help Minho, before pulling you closer to himself.

Untying your feet, you grunted with effort, kicking off the rope and letting it fall off the edge. In the next second, you were taking Newt’s hand and allowing him to pull you up to your feet, before turning to help those, like Aris and Fry, still hanging.

“The choice is yours.”

Once everyone was settled and free, you regrouped, heading towards the exit.

“Okay,” Thomas called, “let’s go, let’s go.”

Just as you moved to run out the exit, that same larger, creepy man appeared, a gun in his hands. He held it out, shifting between being aimed at Thomas, to Minho, to Newt, to you and so forth. Slowly, you shuffled back, holding your hands out before you, turning to Newt with panicked eyes. Newt placed his arm out in front of you, pushing you behind him slightly as Thomas spoke up.

“We’re not trying to cause any trouble, okay? We just got to get out of here.”

“Is that so?” The man smirked, before he raised the walkie-talkie in his hand. “Janson, I got ‘em for ya. I’m bringing ‘em down. Don’t shoot us.” You shook your head slowly, continuing to shuffle back when the man stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s go.”

When no one followed, the smirk on his lips fell and his eyes narrowed. “I said, let’s go.”

Suddenly, Thomas shot forward, grabbing the barrel of the gun and aiming it upwards just as the man pressed the trigger. Instantly, everyone ran forward, helping Thomas, who was struggling to get the gun from the man. Thomas kicked his leg out, making the man stumble back. When you all ran forward, he aimed the gun before him once again, cocking it. Immediately, you all stopped, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips.

Shooting forward, you all ran back when the man stomped forward, grounding out; “you little bastard.”

Before you could do or say anything, a gun shot echoed out. Your eyes widened, immediately snapping your gaze over to Thomas. You looked all over him, looking for a bullet wound, but found nothing.

When you looked back at the man, he slumped forward, and the same girl as before appeared behind him, a handgun aimed before her.

“Okay. Come on.”

“Brenda! Hurry!”

Running up the stairs behind Brenda, your eyes snapped over to Jorge, who ran past you. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” Following behind him, he led you all to a set of doors. “Right this way,” he explained, before pushing the doors open.

Your lips parted in surprise when you saw a zip line of sorts. A long rope attached to the ceiling that connected all the way over to the other end, cascading over a huge drop. Apparently, that was the way you were meant to go.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” Fry sighed.

“Plan B, hermano,” Jorge spoke, pulling on the rope to test it’s strength. “You kids wanna get to the Right Arm? I’ll lead you to them. But you’re gonna owe me.” With that, he pulled down on the brace, or you figured what you were meant to hold on to you, grabbing ahold of it tightly himself. In the next second, he jumped off the ledge, zipping along the rope all the while he yelled; “follow me!”

“All right!” Brenda bellowed, pulling down on another one of the braces. “Come on! Everyone, go!”

For a moment, you stared at her in bafflement. Were you really about to do this? But then Thomas was shoving Minho forward, then Aris, all the while encouraging them to go forward. “Go! Go! Go!”

Minho grabbed ahold of the brace, pulling it from Brenda’s hands. After a moment of preparing himself, grabbing ahold of the brace tightly, he followed Jorge’s lead, jumping off the ledge and zipping downwards.

“Aris,” you called, setting your hand on his back, “go!” He listened to you, taking another one of the braces from Brenda’s hand, before jumping off. Next was Fry, and then Teresa.

Stepping forward, she grabbed the brace from Brenda, before turning to Thomas. You furrowed your brows when you saw Brenda turn, running off, before any of you could say anything. You met Thomas’s eyes along the way and you knew he’d seen the same thing.

Once Teresa was off, it was Newt’s turn next. Nodding at him, you pulled down one of the braces like you’d seen Brenda do, glancing back at Thomas who you noticed has stepped back, as if to follow Brenda, lips drawn in in concern and curiosity.

“Y/N, go-”

“No,” you shook your head, turning to Newt. With a smile, you handed him the brace, “go. I’m right behind you.” You nodded at him, “I promise.”

Newt seemed reluctant, but didn’t argue. In the next second, he was leaping off the ledge like all those before him. Just as you turned to grab a brace, opening your lips to call for Thomas, you saw him turn and run off after Brenda. For a moment, you just stood there, debating. When you looked back out at the zip line, you saw Newt, and knew that if you ran after Thomas, it’d scare the shit out of him.

But, Thomas, was your brother.

With a huff, you let go of the brace, sprinting off in the direction Thomas and Brenda had gone in.

When you finally caught up the two of them, you saw Brenda bent over one of the desks, tugging relentlessly on drawers, and messily searching through them.

“Thomas,” you called, pulling his attention on you. His eyes widened when he saw you, his shoulders falling in defeat and frustration. You only looked back at him in panic, knowing that your time was running out, if it wasn’t already gone.

“We gotta go!” Thomas bellowed back at Brenda.

Brenda pulled open another drawer, grabbing something before turning back to the two of you. “I got it,” she breathed, “I got it.”

“Come on!” You yelled, grabbing ahold of Thomas and yanking him beside you. Brenda followed suit, but all three of you fell to a sudden stop when you noticed two guards walking exactly where you needed to go. Brenda stepped forward, pulling out the gun she’d used before, pressing down on the trigger. She didn’t manage to hit any of the guards, but they did run behind some of the stands for cover.

Spinning around, Brenda pushed you and Thomas along. “Go! Go!”

You turned around, knowing better then to argue with her in that moment. She ran in front of you and Thomas, leading you along the way as the guards started shooting. Your body lurched forward when a bullet blew past you, a yelp leaving your lips. You felt someone grab ahold of your wrist, and looking up you saw Thomas, running wildly as he pulled you along.

You continued to run, fast and ragged breaths leaving your lips continuously.

“Come on, hurry! We’re running out of time!”

You didn’t understand what she meant by that exactly, guessing she just meant the guards that were chasing you. Wordlessly, you continued to follow her, yanking on the sleeve of Thomas’s jacket when he turned, glancing behind himself with wide, panicked eyes.

“Let’s go!”

Running down the stairs, you felt sweat pour down your forehead and a huff of frustration leave your lips when you saw three new guards heading towards you.

“I got eyes on ‘em.”

“Here,” Brenda yelled, pulling your attention back on her. Your eyes widened when you saw her step onto one of thin railings along the ceiling of the building, “follow me!”

“What the-”

“Come on!” She rasped, interrupting you.

You glanced behind Thomas, as if for guidance, but in the next second you heard the rapid footsteps of the guards from before running down the stairs. Decision made, you stepped onto the beam yourself, wobbling slightly, before gaining your balance and shuffling forward as fast as you could

“Stop! Stay right where you are!”

Glancing behind yourself, relief flooded you when you saw Thomas trailing behind you, arms out beside him as he tried to keep himself balanced.

“Shit.”

Continuing to walk forward, you felt panic flood you when you saw four come up on your side and one step onto the beam behind you. Thomas stopped, just as the guard raised his gun.

“Brenda, where we going?”

When you turned back to look at her, she was climbing over a fence, that lead back to a section of the building, bellowing out; “hurry! The song’s almost over!”

You just managed to climb over the same fence Brenda had, when explosions started going off. You felt your body jerk forward, and you nearly slipped, losing your balance, as you turned around, watching as fire burned around you.

“Come on!” Brenda called, turning your attention back on her.

For a moment, you didn’t move, neither did Thomas. But then, you saw the building quite literally coming apart before your eyes, it slowly growing closer to you.

“Thomas! Y/N! Come on!”

You didn’t hesitate this time, listening to Brenda’s advice and shuffling forward. Once Thomas climbed over the fence, you all broke out into a run, wobbling when the building shifted every which way. Yelps of surprise left your lips, your hands coming out beside yourself in a desperate attempt to balance yourself and not fall over.

Sprinting forward, you followed Brenda’s lead, grabbing onto one of the elevator wires and jumping off. You ignored the slight burn in your palms as you slid down, landing on your feet with a huff. You lost your balance, falling on your butt beside Thomas as you groaned. The moment of peace was short lived, as when you looked up, you saw pieces of debris from the explosion falling towards you at a face pace.

With wide eyes and parted lips, you ran forward, jumping off the top of the elevator along with Brenda and Thomas. Landing on your back, you raised your arms, covering your eyes and mouth when dust and pieces of debris came flying towards you.

And yet, all you could think about in that moment was if Newt was okay.

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potentiallymrsdevorak · 6 years

Text

In Fields of Flowers (The Arcana)

Chapter Two: Pink Camellias (Longing for You)

Pairing: Julian x Nijah (my female apprentice)

Summary: Nijah just found out that she had slept with her new mentor. How will he react when she tries to reach out? Will an old flame she had long forgotten spark something new in the doctor?

Word Count: 6,176 (a little less bc no smut soz)

Author’s Note: finally, here is the next chapter! I’m really enjoying writing this series, even though I’m...not very consistent. Lol. I do wanna let y’all know that there is a scene in here that can be very triggering to readers. If you’re uncomfortable with a man forcing himself on a woman, then you will want to skip a certain part with Luka and Nijah about to go out and about the Lazaret (slight spoiler). But otherwise, please enjoy!

Tagging: @drunkenomnist, @juliandevoraknsfw

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Nijah’s nerves had never been so strained.

Just the night before, she had lost her virginity, a very intimate act, to the Dr. Julian Devorak? The man that she would be training under to help cure the plague?

If she wasn’t still wearing her plague doctor’s mask, she would have covered her face in her hands by now.

But Dr. Devorak seemingly kept his composure, continuing to read off the list of names.

“Katja Kuznetsov.”

“Present.”

The voice comes from the desk next to Nijah. She glances over to see the wavy hair of the girl who spoke pinned back in a loose ponytail. She seems nice, she thinks, as Dr. Devorak’s voice pulls her back to reality.

“Luka Pavlov.”

“Present.”

Wait a moment. I know that voice, she thought, turning around her shoulder to see where the sound came from. Luka slid off his mask, sending a wink in her direction.

She remembers him well. Luka was her first crush in primary school. He was also the first boy to ever reject her.

“Well, it seems that everyone has arrived safely.” Dr. Devorak concluded. “Now, if you all get in a single file line, I will take you through the Lazaret. Leave your personal belongings behind, they will get picked up and placed in your new rooms.”

Everyone else follows his command, as if he’s put everyone under an eerie spell. Nijah follows suit, finding herself standing right behind Katja. It looks a little strange, Nijah thought, to have all of us in a line wearing the exact same thing, huh. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was a funeral march.

Katja turns her head a little bit and whispers just so she can hear.

“Are you nervous?”

Boy, if she really knew.

“A little bit.”

“You’re Nijah, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay, we should stick with each ot-”

“I did not ask you to speak.” Dr. Devorak glares at Nijah and Katja through his mask. Silence echoes through the room as no one dares to make a sound.

“Then, follow me.” The doctor demands as he takes the lead, opening up the door to the rest of the Lazaret. The apprentices follow behind, accepting their new fate.

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The tour through Lazaret was...frightening, to say the least.

The walls, though made of brick, seemed colorless and void of anything but darkness. The patient’s wing was rather depressing, seeing so many citizens of Vesuvia essentially sentenced to their deaths with no way of escaping. They were to die in the darkness, away from their families, their loved ones...it nearly broke Nijah’s heart, wishing that she was with her family right now.

She did get a little excited when she saw the medical lab. Various tools and tables were set out in the space, letting Nijah’s imagination run wild. She wondered what sort of tests and examinations she would be conducting in this room, and if she could potentially find a link to help cure the plague.

“My office is right next door, here.” Dr. Devorak continued, pointing to the door with his name written on a large sign. “Dr. Satrinava and Dr. Valdemar’s offices are further down, but they are not always here. If you need assistance or have any questions, please feel free to ask me.”

Oh, believe me, I have questions, Nijah thought as she rolled her eyes, thankful that they were still wearing their plague masks so her sarcasm could not be detected.

Torches lit their way up the stairwell the doctor was leading them to. “And up here is the apprentice wing. This is the only space that you are guaranteed not to catch the plague.” With that said, he unfastened his plague mask, letting his curls fall in front of his face. “You may take your masks off now.”

One by one, every apprentice began to take their mask off. Nijah felt the stale air hit her face as she blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim lighting. She began to take in the faces of her fellow comrades, and tried her best to not focus on the man she found between her legs the night prior.

Katja turns around to see everyone else around her, and Nijah is nearly struck at her natural beauty. Her skin is the color of deep honey, her eyes shining a deep hazel. Her wavy ponytail frames her face perfectly. A simple golden nose ring hung from her septum. She looks like she would be a character in a storybook.

“Strange to see the masks off, hmm?” Katja commented.

“Yeah…” Nijah trailed off, eyes lingering on Dr. Devorak for a moment too long. Her new friend notices.

“Seems you’re a little shocked with the looks of the good doctor.” Katja winks, nudging Nijah in the ribs with her elbow.

The group continues up the stairs until Dr. Devorak reaches a tall, wooden door.

“This is as far as I am taking you,” he states, “for this is the apprentice dormitory. You will all share this space together, which is why it is imperative that no one brings the plague up here. This is the end of the tour. I expect all of you to be seen in the dining hall at sundown for dinner, which is on the floor beneath you. Do not be late.”

With that, he opens the door, the apprentices filing in one by one. Nijah thought that possibly, for one second, she would catch his gaze as she walked by, or possibly a smile…

But she saw nothing, not even a passing glance.

Disappointed, she stepped into the apprentice’s wing, eyes widening at the sight of the windows streaming sunlight in the room. A smile crept over her face as she stepped towards one, the city of Vesuvia far away from her now. Even though it was terribly far, it gave her hope. Hope that she would one day return.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Katja placed a hand on Nijah’s shoulder. “I swore we would be locked in a dungeon the entire time.”

“Me too.” Nijah turned her head to see Katja’s profile, illuminated by the light. She was glad to have gained a friend today.

“Well, we don’t have much time to dwell.” Katja said, sitting on the bed next to her. “Looks like we’ll be right next to each other!”

Nijah looked at the foot of the bed, noticing her bags and violin case were placed there carefully. She sits on the mattress, immediately feeling the stiffness in her spine.

“Oof…” she mutters. “They never said it would be the most lavish way of living…”

As the two women conversed, a figure that Nijah remembered all too well approached them. He looked almost the same, except his facial hair had grown in, trimmed perfectly for a gentleman, and his hair no longer sat on his forehead, but was styled upwards. On top of that, he had definitely grown and spent some time working on his...physique.

“Nijah,” Luka chuckled, extending his hand for her to shake, “It’s been some time, huh?”

She accepted it, giving it a strong shake. “It has. I’m not the little girl with the crush on you anymore.”

“Really? Aw, that’s too bad.” He smiled playfully, sitting on the mattress next to her. Katja shot Nijah a confused look, watching over Luka skeptically.

“Katja,” Nijah explained, “Luka and I were in primary school together. He moved after we had met, so I hadn’t seen him since.”

“How old were we then...around eight? Nine?” Luke pondered, running his fingers over his beard. “That seems like forever ago.”

“Yes, so it seems,” Katja replied, rather coldly. It was clear to Nijah that she did not like him.

“So, what do you guys have planned for the next few hours?” Luka asked, running his hands along the wrinkles of his doctor’s coat. “Anyone up for a little exploration?”

“Pass.” Katja spat, pulling a book out of a bright yellow bag and burying her nose into it.

“Okay, how about you, Nijah? For old time’s sake?”

Nijah pondered his proposal. She definitely would not mind spending time with him (as a friend, of course), and reminisce on their old times. But, she knew no one would be bothering Dr. Devorak right now, and there were some questions that she desperately needed answers for.

“Sorry, Luka, I have a few medical questions to ask the doctor.”

His shoulders slumped as a small frown crossed his features. “I understand. I’ll catch you at dinner, okay?” He patted Nijah on the back as he left her alone with her thoughts.

I have to do this now, or else I never will, Nijah told herself as she stood up from the mattress, sneaking out of the apprentice’s wing without a sound.

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Nijah approached the office of Dr. Devorak quietly, anxious to see him once again. She was worried that she wasn’t going to get the answers she wanted. She rehearsed what she wanted to say to him over and over again, but knew that it would never be perfect.

She raises her hand, allowing her knuckles to rap among the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

A disgruntled sigh.

“Enter.”

Nijah opened the door to see Dr. Devorak sitting in a chair over his desk, facing away from the door. A lone candle was the only source of light in the room, leaving a warm glow around his sihoulette. A cot laid on the side of his desk, complete with a pillow and two blankets. Does he sleep down here?

Dr. Devorak turned over his shoulder, his expression one of surprise. “Nijah. Shut the door behind you, please.”

She listened, letting the door slam with a dull thud behind her. “Ilya, I-”

“Don’t call me that here.” He interrupted her, his voice growing menacingly low. “No one ever calls me that, ever.”

“Oh, sorry…” Nijah twirled a strand of her hair in her fingers. This already isn’t going well, she thought. “Uh, Dr. Devorak, I can’t help but ask you a few things.”

“If you are going to ask of the status of our relationship, don’t even bother.” He turns back around, scribbling something rather quickly. “You are my apprentice, and I am your teacher. There is nothing else.”

Nijah’s brows furrow as she crosses her arms. “How can you just hide everything like this? It’s not natural, Dr. Devorak.”

“Not only am I a skilled doctor, but I also spent some time in the theatre,” he responded, “I can be whoever I need to be.”

His confession broke Nijah’s heart in two. “Does this mean you were acting last night? Was everything you told me a lie?”

“If that is what you need to believe to get rid of your obvious feelings for me, then yes.”

“You…” her lip was quivering, her whole body shaking, “...you’re a monster! What kind of man do you think you are?”

“You’re right,” he stood quickly from his chair, moving fast enough to corner her in the small office. His fist banged on the wall next to Nijah’s head, making her nearly jump out of her shoes. “I am a terrible man. I have done things that you will never know, that you could never comprehend. If you stay with me, there’s no guarantee that I won’t hurt you, too. So, for your sake,” he stared intensely into her baby blue eyes, watching them fill with tears, “forget everything. Forget what I may have said, what I may have done. I’ll only bring you more pain.”

He backed away from her slowly, his expression laced with pure anger. Nijah could barely breathe, she was so frightened. He was nothing like the man she thought he was.

And he saw it in her eyes that she could never trust him again.

“...you are dismissed.”

Nijah wasted no time in leaving, her hand practically on the handle before he uttered his last phrase. As the door shut behind her, she pressed her body to the wall, letting it slide down to the floor. As she crouched with her knees to her chin, she let her tears fall silently. This was the last place she wanted to be. All she wanted to do was to go home and forget that everything had ever happened.

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Julian Devorak sighed as he sat in his chair.

What were you thinking, scaring that poor girl like that? He thought, diving back into his work. His mind went to war, going back and forth with the different possibilities of how he could have made the situation better. His quill scribbled quicker the more he fought with himself, dipping it back in the ink more frequently than earlier.

She needed to hear that from you. She has no right trying to romance you as an apprentice.

But she has no ill will towards you. She just wants to see the good in you.

There is no good in you! There are still some things you refuse to forgive yourself over.

She would find it in her heart to love you.

There’s no way she would love a monster like you.

But it seems there’s a way for a monster like you to fall in love with her.

The tip of his quill broke, and he realized just how tightly he was gripping the writing utensil. He released another heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“What...what am I going to do?”

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Learning about the different procedures in the medical lab was something Nijah found to enjoy. Dr. Valdemar, Dr. Satrinava, and Dr. Devorak were extremely knowledgeable in their content, and taught the apprentices thoroughly. Even though they were a little...strange, at times, she was definitely getting better at her craft.

“Make sure the incision in the patient doesn’t get too deep, keep it in a fine, straight line.” Dr. Satrinava demonstrated, making sure everyone was paying attention.

“If you cut it too deep, bring it to me so I can...ah, clean it up for you.” Dr. Valdemar insisted, licking their lips.

The whole room went silent. Nijah could hear Dr. Devorak swallowing heavily.

Dr. Satrinava rolled their eyes. “Ignore Dr. Valdemar…”

The apprentices spent the first few days testing out their new knowledge in the lab. Since the doctors didn’t want to risk losing more patient’s lives (and to the disappointment of Dr. Valdemar), they all used cloth dummies to practice their procedures. They were also assigned to work in groups and take turns performing on the dummy. Katja and Nijah teamed up together and, of course, Luka joined them.

“All right! Let’s get going!” He said, holding the scalpel in the air. Katja took a small step away from him.

As the apprentices began to practice their incisions, the doctors walked around the groups, observing their work. Whenever they may have noticed something was going wrong, they would step in and correct their work. However, Nijah and the rest of her group noticed that Dr. Devorak was being very careful to stay as far away from them as possible.

“Is it just me,” Katja muttered, “or is Dr. Devorak watching us?” Her snarky tone was aimed right at him, as he observed her motions from across the room.

“I’m sure he means nothing by it.” Nijah said, wondering why the hell she was defending him.

“With the mask on, it just seems more creepy.” Luka added. “Don’t you think?”

Up until this moment, Nijah had even refused to give him a passing glance. Now, as she saw him for the first time since the incident, her entire body trembled in fear. Her blood ran cold as his eyes flashed on her through his plague mask, remembering how those eyes were when he had cornered her in his office. Angry, fiery, wanting nothing but to get rid of her entirely…

“Hey, you’re up, Nijah.” Luka elbowed her in the ribs, trying to snap her back in to reality.

“Oh. Thank you…” She took the scalpel, angling it just so perfectly to cut a thin line. Dr. Satrinava walked by, observing her every move.

“Not bad, apprentice! You have some really nice skills.” They sounded rather cheerful, yet Nijah wasn’t able to read their expression. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside.

At least one of the doctors thought she was good enough.

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A little over a week has passed since the new apprentices first came to Lazaret. None of them had died yet, and everyone was starting to get used to each other’s company. Some, like Nijah and Katja, had become fast friends, spending time together quite a bit. Others cast themselves out, labelling themselves as loners. If people don’t bother them, they won’t bother you kinda deal.

Then, there were the small group of people trying to get together with others.

As time went by, Katja could see that Luka was trying to ask Nijah to spend a night with him. She could see it in the way he looked at her, the way he was always trying to butt into their conversations, his little touches going unnoticed to those who might not suspect anything.

Katja didn’t like it one bit.

Still, she kept her mouth quiet as she watched Luka ask Nijah to spend some time with him, one on one, as they all finished up their project in the medical lab before it was time to leave. “We could walk along the beach, see what lies in the forest…” he was nervous, running his hands through his hair as he asked this of her.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” She nodded. Katja was curious to see her expression through that mask of hers.

He took a step back in shock. “Really? Uh, great! So...I’ll see you after dinner?”

“See you then.”

He walked off, a pep in his step as he left the two women alone. The doctors still lingered, cleaning up the last bits of mess. They ignored the two apprentices, busying themselves in their work.

“Nijah, you really think that hanging out with him is a good idea?” Katja questioned her.

“I don’t think he means any harm.” Nijah answered. “I mean, he was my crush over ten years ago. It’s not like I have any feelings for him now.”

Katja crossed her arms at her chest. “All right. But please do be careful. I just can’t trust him.”

“I mean, if you’re that concerned…”

“No no no, I don’t want to stop you! Just please…” Katja took Nijah’s hand in hers. “...I want you to make it back okay. Holler if you need anything, okay?”

“Of course. Thanks for being such a great friend.” Nijah knew Katja couldn’t see through her mask, but anyone could tell by the look on her face that she was telling the truth.

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After Nijah finished her dinner, she snuck off into the main hallway of the Lazaret. Holding her plague mask close to her pounding chest, she waited for Luka to show up. I know Katja said to be cautious, but...what’s a little harm in spending time with him?

She knew he was coming from the telltale clack of his shoes. Soon, he came into her vision, a huge smile slapped onto his face. He was much taller than she remembered, probably towering over 6’0 at this point. With the shoes, she bet he was even taller.

“Hello, Nijah.” He said, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and bringing her close to his body, embracing her tightly. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment all day.”

“Hello, Luka.” She patted his shoulder blade, not expecting him to be holding her so tightly. He let her go, hands still snaking around her body.

“What would you like to do tonight?”

“I don’t know. There’s so much to do, yet so little time.”

“Ah,” he grinned, “then I guess I can lead the way?”

He opened the door, allowing Nijah to slide through to the outside. Luka looked over the foyer, making sure no one was following, then shut the door behind him.

Nijah felt much more refreshed outside, the cool breeze kissing her skin. The sun had set, and the only light to guide them was from the moon, now half present. Crickets chirped, owls hooted, and the hum of the city could still be heard on Lazaret. The city might be busy during the day, but it can really come alive at night. This seemed true of the Lazaret...at least, the wildlife on the island.

Luka led Nijah around the perimeter of the Lazaret. The further they walked from the entrance, the darker it seemed to get. The torches that decorated the front were just specks in the darkness, unable to provide any further guidance. Nijah’s fingers trailed along the wall for assistance, straining her eyes to follow Luka. Something about him really felt off, as if he had something up his sleeve. In her gut, she just knew that something terrible was going to happen. But she shook it off, thinking that the island was giving her the creeps.

As she and Luka turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face her. “You know why I wanted you to come out here?”

“Uhh...so we could hang out?” Nijah let her back press up against the wall, waiting to hear Luka’s response.

“Hmm...yes, but I want a little more than that.” Luka’s hands rested by her shoulders on the brick, fingers splayed out like the legs of spiders. He was getting a little too close for Nijah’s taste, feeling his breath on her neck as he inched closer and closer.

“Um,” she said, turning to face away from him, “what do you want?”

He grabbed her jaw with his hand, forcing her to face him. “I want you, Nijah.”

He took her lips in his own, moaning at their first contact. His other hand wrapped around her body, pulling her right up to his chest. His hand trailed from her jaw to her hair, trapping her in his clutches. It was the most uncomfortable she had ever felt, and every nerve in her body was telling her to get out.

“Ngh…” he moaned, his lips barely brushing hers, “I’m gonna make sweet, sweet love to you. Take it as an apology for denying you so many years ago.”

Nijah pushes herself off of his chest, trying her best to get away from him. “I-I would really rather you not, Luka…”

“You have no say in this.” Luka growled. “You should be thankful someone wants to stick it in you.”

Nijah gasped, surprised that Luka could be so goddamn rude. She took a fistful of his hair to steady herself, and shoved her knee right in Luka’s crotch. As he kneeled over, crying out in pain, she made a run for it.

Damn, Katja was right, she thought as her feet started to go quicker and quicker. I should never have been so stupid...

Suddenly, Nijah felt herself falling in the grass rather abruptly. No sooner had she hit the ground, she felt some force pulling her ankle, back the way she came.

“No, stop!”

She tried to grab onto the grass blades, dig her fingers in the dirt, but it was no use. Whatever was pulling her back was much stronger than she ever could be. As she turned over her shoulder to see what was pulling her back, her face nearly went white.

Luka was using his magic to literally pull her back.

“Told you that you had no choice, Nijah.” His magic continued to pull her until she was lying at his feet, her doctor’s outfit covered in dirt. “Guess I forgot to tell you that my parents were traveling magicians?”

“You...you won’t get away with this!” She shouted, trying her best to set herself upright.

He just laughed. “Oh, but I already have.”

As he held his hand out, slowly closing it into a fist, Nijah felt him choke her out.

Her eyes went wide as she tried to pull them away, but it was no use. She had no magic powers, could never fend him off. She felt utterly helpless against him.

“If you give me your body, then I won’t have to kill you. Seems fair, Nijah?”

Either way, she would feel dead after he was done with her.

“Never,” she spat, nearly snarling at him like an animal as he shook his head.

“That’s quite a shame,” he said, “I quite enjoyed getting to know you.”

His magic propelled her to the brick wall, hanging her up as if he was pushing his hand up to her throat. Nijah struggled, fingers still clawing at her neck. Her feet were dangling over the ground, like a rag doll being carried like a child.

“Let...ack, me go!” Nijah kicked and shouted, trying to get help from someone, anyone, for her to get away from Luka.

He stepped closer to her, his face level with her own. A sinister smile grew over his face, making Nijah’s blood nearly turn to ice. He squeezed his fist even tighter, and she felt more lightheaded than before, the edges of her vision starting to grow black.

“Goodbye, Nijah. It’s not like you’ll be missed, anyway.”

Nijah shut her eyes, accepting that this would be her last moment. This is how she would remember the world - dark, cold, and unwelcoming.

But just as she thought she was about to slip under, she felt herself falling to the ground, the imaginary hand around her neck gone completely. She took a few deep breaths as she laid in the dirt, her eyes slowly opening to see how she was set free.

She couldn’t see much in front of her. A dark cloak was covering her vision.

“What business do you have here, Dr. Devorak?” Luka’s voice hit her ears, echoing against the brick walls.

Wait, that’s...Dr. Devorak?

“Mr. Pavlov, I hope you remember that apprentices using magic at the Lazaret is strictly prohibited, correct?” Her gaze trailed up the cloak to find the signature tuft of curly auburn hair. He really did come to save her.

“So? It’s not like I was harming a patient!”

“Are you saying hurting another apprentice isn’t a crime?” He scoffed at him. Nijah imagined his silver eyes piercing right through Luka’s skin. “And that’s another thing, Mr. Pavlov. I hope you feel disgusted with the way you treated Nijah. What kind of man do you think you are?”

“I…ah...” Luka started, but this was clearly not his battle to win.

“Go, pack up your things. You will leave when the first boat arrives at the Lazaret. I hope you learned your lesson. And Mr. Pavlov?”

“Y...yes, doctor?”

“I have eyes and ears all over Vesuvia. If I hear that you try to hurt another woman the same way you did to her...it’ll be more than a rock thrown at your head.”

Nijah heard Luka gasp audibly, then the scramble of his feet as he ran off.

Once he was gone, Dr. Devorak turned around and bent down on his knees. His cloak uncovered her vision, revealing that he was wearing a dark colored coat, one that she had never seen before. “Nijah…” his voice softened, the edge completely gone, “are you all right?”

She was speechless, unable to form words. He held his hand out to her, and she backed herself up on the wall, eyes spilling over with worry. When she looked in his eyes, she saw the man that threatened that he would hurt her, that he was a terrible person who did terrible things. She was afraid of him, literally cowering below him, anticipating his next move.

Julian saw this. And he was ashamed in himself.

“Nijah…” His fisted hand dropped in the dirt, knowing how much he hurt her, “I’m so sorry. I never should have yelled at you, or pushed you away.” He sighed, running a free hand through his hair. “I will hurting you for the rest of my life. I hope you will someday find it in your heart to forgive me.”

She couldn’t bear herself to look at him yet. But she knew his words were pure.

Cautiously, Nijah reached her hand out to his, eyes still gazing on the ground. Her throat hurt too much to speak, but he saw it all in the small smile tickling her lips, all in the warmth of her fingers brushing on his gloved skin. It’s okay, everything will be okay.

Julian let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she felt something, whether it was love or forgiveness, for him. He gazed over her dirty figure, only one thing on his mind:

“May...may I hold you?” Julian asked.

Nijah nodded, finally facing him as she extending her arms out to him. He accepted her willingly, pulling her to his chest as her legs splayed out on the ground. His heartbeat quickened as he felt her body against his again, this time in an act that felt even more intimate than their last. As her face nuzzled against his doctor’s coat, he felt happy. Happy that she was here, happy that he had found her before it was too late.

It was then that he realized that Luka will still be staying in the dormitory before he goes off the next morning.

“Nijah, are you comfortable sleeping in your bed tonight?”

He felt her shake her head on his chest, a solid “no.”

“Would you...want to stay in my room? It’s not the room with the cot, I promise.”

This time, it’s a frantic “yes,” a nod that makes him chuckle lightly.

“Ah, let’s go then. Upsy-daisy…”

He hooked his arms under her legs, much the same way he carried her not too long ago, and escorted her to his bed chambers. As he carried her through the Lazaret, long after everyone had fallen asleep, she was thankful that he had rescued her. She felt safer in his arms than anywhere else.

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He carried her all the way to his office, and when the door behind them had been shut, she found her footing on the solid ground. He lifted the cot from its place to reveal a trap door. As he opened it, a staircase consumed with darkness opened itself up to them.

“Follow me,” Julian whispered, one hand holding a lit candle and the other snaking its way between Nijah’s fingers. Her head was much clearer now, and she accepted it, allowing him to lead her wherever he wanted to go.

He guided her down the dark stairwell, leading into a small room with a large bed occupying the space. The blankets and pillows smelled like they had just been cleaned. The scent relaxed Nijah as Julian guided her to sit on the edge.

“I hope you enjoy your rest.” He says before taking one of the pillows. “If you need me, I’ll be down here.” Without another word, he plopped down onto the cobblestone floor and laid his head down to rest, blowing the candle out to envelope them in complete darkness.

Um...okay, Nijah’s eyebrows twisted in confusion. He still must have some physical boundaries with me. Letting Julian off to do his own thing, she climbed to the top of the bed and snuggled herself under the covers.

She closed her eyes to sleep, but the frightening memories of Luka still haunted her mind. She could vividly remember how his lips hungered like a bloodthirsty animal on hers, how his deep voice shook her to the bone, how she felt like there was no way to escape. And his eyes, oh hells, his eyes. He stared at her like she was nothing more but prey. And how his grin turned devilish as he tightened the grip around her neck, watching her take her last few breaths before…

“Ah!” Nijah gasped as she shot up in bed. She hadn’t been sleeping for long, but she already felt a warm rush fill her cheeks and a cold sweat on her brow. She did not like the things he was doing to her. Secretly, she wondered if it was his magic still at work...

“Nijah?” A voice called out in the darkness. A flick of a wrist, and the candle was burning brightly again.

“...yes?” she squeaked timidly.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

“How can I help you?”

Nijah looked down and realized she was still wearing her dirty doctor’s clothes. Slowly, she began unbuttoning them and discarding them to the side of the bed. As her feverish skin met the chilly air of the underground bedroom, she knew exactly what she needed.

“Julian...can you come sleep up here?”

On the floor, Julian made a startled noise.

“Ah, I don’t...are you...do you…” he cleared his throat, popping his head up so Nijah could see his gleaming eyes. “Are you sure thahhhhhhh...”

His eyes lingered over her bare skin. She was wearing the shirt that he gave to her less than a fortnight ago, the plunging neckline bringing back his memories from that night. It clung on to her womanly form, just sliding off of her left shoulder. Julian couldn’t see what was hiding underneath the covers, but he wanted to find out. If, of course, she would be willing.

“Oh! Ah…” she pulled the covers a little higher, slightly embarrassed that he had seen her in such a state. “I don’t need you to touch me that way...I just need you to hold me.”

Nijah swore he heard him sigh in relief, but she would never be able to tell. “That...that I can do.” Julian smiled as he stood up from his place, making his way next to her on the covers. He blew out the candle as he was next to her, placing it on the floor as he tucked himself in, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to his chest.

“Is this what you wanted?” Julian whispered, his lips resting at the crown of her head as his fingers intertwined with hers, resting near her chest.

Nijah took in a deep breath, filling her senses with his presence. His musky, yet charming scent filled her lungs and relaxed her. His cooling touch made her feel like herself again. Hearing his voice comforted her when it once frightened her. Her relationship with Dr. Julian Devorak might be quite the roller coaster, but right now, she had never been happier.

“Yes. Thank you.”

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In her dreams, she was in a much happier place. There was not a cloud in sight, only sunshine fell through the trees of the forest she was running through. A happier tune played through her head as her bare feet touched the ground. She was running towards something, but what?

Finally, she stopped in front of a field of flowers, spreading as far as the eye could see. Many colors filled her vision - pinks, purples, blues, and the many meanings of the flowers resounded through her mind. Some of them her favorites, some of them she had never seen before, that must hail from a different world. Although it was a wondrous place, a beautiful place, she couldn’t help but wonder…

Why am I here?

But soon, she knew her answer.

She was running toward a man she had grown to become quite fond of. As he turned around to see her, his auburn curls blew in the wind, making him out to be the most gorgeous man Nijah had ever seen. He was wearing his white, billowy shirt and his black pants, definitely her favorite outfit he had ever worn. He opened his arms to catch her, to hold her close to him and spin her around in his embrace. When she held him, she felt like she was home at last.

Julian set her down gently, smiling as if he had a surprise for her. She felt a wave of excitement flood her body as he reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a simple flower, blowing gently in the breeze.

A pink camellia, she whispered to him.

One by one, he began to pick off the petals, letting them take flight in the air. She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not… He sang, his eyes never leaving her own.

As he played his little game, Nijah saw the sky become dark with storm clouds, cutting off any possible light from the sun. A frosty gust of wind blew through the field, and all the flowers around her fell to the ground, brown and withered. Still, Julian pursued, even though the world was falling apart around them.

The angry clouds turned red, thunder crackling through the sky. Nijah had never felt more terrified in her life.

Julian, stop! Let’s get out of here! She screamed, but her cries fell to deaf ears.

Then, the last petal was pulled, and a creepy grin stretched over his face.

She loves me.

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#the arcana #the arcana fic #the arcana game #julian devorak #julian devorak fanfic #ilya devorak #dr devorak #nijah horvat #fan apprentice: nijah #julian x nijah #the arcana angst #the arcana fluff #elle writes

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