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xeulousluv · 3 years

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Almost

AN: Hello everyone, I am fairly new to posting on this app, so therefore I am still learning how to use it. Hehe :) Anyways, I hope you are having a great day!

Warning: Nothing really, maybe a little bit of angst?

Zayn and Y/n broke up and all he’s left with are the videos she took during their senior year of high school.

September 1st, 2010:

The camera was set up in her hand as she was slightly fixing her hair, a huge smile plastered on her makeup covered face. He always thought she looked better without makeup, but sometimes you couldn’t beat the insecurities.

“Here we are, the first day of senior year! How are we feeling, Zayn?”

Next to her stood himself, a much younger version of himself. Two years to be exact. He was almost unrecognizabel, with his usual high school attire adoring his body. A white tee-shirt, black skinny jeans, and not to mention his varsity football jacket hanging off of his shoulders. She looked lovingly at her boyfriend, her eyelashes beating against the softness of her rounded cheeks.

“I’m ready to get out of here, the last three years were the upmost worst years of my life.” Zayn spoke truthfully, he hadn’t expected to make it past the ninth grade, but with the help of Y/n, he managed to make it all the way to his graduating year. Y/n gave him an offended look before responding, “Hey! If it weren’t for these last three years, you would’ve never met me, let alone had the courage to talk to me. Am I really that bad?”

She laughed out while speaking, all so he knows that she is joking and would never accuse him of thinking such things. Though, he was already two steps ahead of her and was laughing along at her sad attempt of looking offended. “Of course not, baby. You are what kept me going.” With that, Zayn kissed her temple and she let out a small giggle before stopping the camera.

September 5th, 2010:

Random small talk was heard on the computer sitting in front of Zayn, before her face showed with a bright glow. She was so beautiful it almost hurt. She was laughing at something her friend Emery said, though it was completely inaudible, he just let the smile take over his face hearing her laugh again.

“I don’t exactly know why I turned this on, but hello! We successfully made it through the first week of school, and let me just say, it was not fun. The teachers still hate me.” Again, Y/n laughed towards the camera.

“I remember this one time last year when Mr. Lambert threw me out of class because I wouldn’t stop laughing. In my defence, he was talking about the safety of condoms and Zayn kept mocking him. That was a detention worth going to.” Zayn remembered that day clearly. He sat to the left of Y/n, Mr. Lambert’s first mistake, and would whisper in her ear how he would show her the proper way to wear a condom when they got to her house that night. To say he did end up showing her was an understatement.

The camera then turned to her friend before she continued on with what she was saying, “Anyways, Emery here, has informed me about this back to school party for seniors at Anthony Stilettos house. So, we are heading to the mall so we can get a nice looking outfit for tonight. I’ll see you guys later!” And with that the camera switched off.

He thought that was the end of the video, but when she popped back on his screen, he was pleasantly surprised. She wore a black dress that just reached her knees, the end of it rippled and flew each time she took a step. Her hair and makeup was done, and her shoes matched her dress, she really was the most beautiful person he has ever met.

Without saying anything, Y/n moved the camera to where the view was now on Emery. She wore a simple tight red dress that fit her like a glove, she was placing bobby pins in her hair before realising a camera was watching her every move. Emery turned away from the mirror Y/n had in her room, and started making random poses into the camera. The video finally ended with Y/n facing the camera back to herself while laughing at it.

October 7th, 2010:

It was homecoming. Their final homecoming, and of course, Zayn asked her to be his date. He didn’t go all out like the previous years, this particular year was asked right after they finished giving each other their all. They were bunched up together, all sweaty and breathless, and that is when Zayn asked her to go to homecoming with him. He thought it was gross because of their previous activities, but Y/n thought it was sweet, endearing even. It was personal and intimate, she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Plus, she was tired of all the attention that comes with getting asked to homecoming.

Her dress was a beautiful shade of baby yellow, Zayn wore his usual black suit but with a yellow tie and a yellow rose pinned to his coat pocket. The night couldn’t have been anymore magical.

“Z, are you ready to go? Emmy and Dallas are waiting in the car.” Her soft voice echoed through the speakers, she was worried about being late. But more so, excited about what the night had planned for the couple. Zayn was fixing his hair, like he does any other day, however today, he wanted to look his absolute best. “Just one more second, love. Gotta look perfect before leaving these four secured walls.”

Y/n rolled her eyes into the camera before another smile took over her face. It only got wider as he finally announced that he was ready.

“Baby, you look handsome! You don’t need all that hair gel, make one wrong move and we’re calling you Uncle Jesse.” Zayn scoffed, his hands finding their place on her hips, him being pressed up against her back. His chin resting on her shoulder, they looked so in love. They were so in love.

October 31st, 2010:

Fall was Y/n’s favorite season, meaning Halloween was by far her favorite holiday. She squealed into the camera when Zayn walked out in his Peter Pan costume. “Baby, you look so fucking adorable!” She cooed, though Zayn was having none of it. “Do we have to go to this party? Can’t we just stay in and watch scary movies, I promise I will protect you if you get too scared!”

He knew it was no use, Y/n had been going on and on about Anthony’s costume party for the past week, so when she started laughing, Zayn internally groaned. “Brave of you to assume I will get scared during a horror movie. How about we go for just an hour, then you and I can come back here and watch whatever movie you want?”

At that, his ears perked, he could go for an hour. That gives him all the more time alone with his love. “Hocus Pocus? That’s my favorite.”

“Yes baby, we can watch Hocus Pocus, do this for me, and I’m all yours for the rest of the night.” A grin was stretched across his face as she leaned up and gave a peck to his lips. Adoration shining brightly in her eyes as she looked up at him. “You are so lucky I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you, Zayn. More than you will ever know.”

December 31st, 2010:

“Hola, my favorite people! Happy New Years Eve, I hope you guys are having a good day. My family is having a little party to bring in the new year, even though you won’t be watching this until later when I decide to post it, I hope you guys have an amazing holiday. Be safe now. Bye!”

Christmas and New Year’s was hard for Y/n. She had major separation anxiety for everyone she grows close to, so not being able to see the people she loves for a whole two weeks was taking a toll on her. Not to mention, Zayn went back to Bradford for the holidays, so he wasn’t there to keep her calm. All she had was the emails and messages he would send her.

However, that night was different. She didn’t know what it was, but the air felt more intoxicating. There was something she was missing and the young girl couldn’t put her finger on it.

Emery got ahold of Y/n’s camera without her noticing, pressing the ‘record’ button and smiling.

“Hi, as many of you may know, my name is Emery White. Before questions start racing through your head about where Y/n is, she is currently in the kitchen talking to one of her neighbors, and she knows nothing about this so, shhh!” Emery held her index finger up to her mouth, even though she is talking to a camera.

“So, the time is now 11:58, meaning it is almost New Year’s and I got a message from a good friend of mine to get her camera and start recording. Oh wait, she’s coming over! Act normal!”

“Emmy? Why do you have my camera, wait no, when did you get my camera?” Emery turned her neck to look at Y/n, and smiled while looking at her friends confused face. “It’s almost midnight, I figured we could record the big moment for your journal thing.”

Y/n looked at her watch and sure enough, it was 12:59, and the people around her were counting down. By the time Y/n looked back at her friend, Emery had switched her position to behind the camera, her smile now stretching to her eyes. She gave a confused smile towards the camera before shaking her head.

10..

9..

8..

A tap was felt on Y/n’s shoulder making her turn around, not believing her eyes, she had to do a double take. There he was in all of his glory. Zayn stood in front of her with a bouquet of random flowers, her eyes widening in complete shock.

3..

2..

Before she could fully process his presence, Zayn had planted his lips against hers in what he would call, one of their best kisses. His arms went around her waist while hers were around his neck, keeping him as close as humanly possible. She was the first to pull away from the kiss, tears forming at the bottom of her eyes but never fell. Zayn pulled her back, this time her face went into his neck as he whispered out a small, “Happy New Years, baby.”

May 22nd, 2011:

Senior prom, a day Y/n has waited her entire life for. Getting all dolled up for one night of perfection sounded glorious. Unlike most people, her dress doesn’t reach the floor but goes a little ways past her knees. It was a light shade of green, she wasn’t usually one for the cliche pink and blue, and her stomach was laced over showing her belly button peircing. She felt on top of the world, the most gorgeous she has ever felt in her entire life.

Zayn was in a nude tuxedo, a lightish green tie tucked into the blazer. “It’s prom day, baby, how do you feel?” The now well-known camera placed in front of his face, though he paid no attention to it, but really the girl behind it. “Like I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world. How did I get so lucky, hm?”

The blush was evident on her face, he could see it perfectly now even with the camera facing him and not herself. He could still see the light in her eyes. Looking back on it, he couldn’t imagine living his life without her, how could he let her go?

It wasn’t like they got in a fight or anything, Zayn and Y/n were going to different colleges and he didn’t want to do the whole long distance thing. He felt she deserved better than that. So even though the breakup was absolutely not a mutual agreement, Y/n somewhat understood and let him walk away.

“You’re such the charmer, Zayn. Always got me blushing for no good reason.”

“I would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t.”

Now turning the camera to face both of them, Zayn placed a kiss on her lips before turning off the camera and letting their night go on as best as it could, for it would be one of the last good memories they have. Except at the time, neither of them knew the last time would actually be the last time.

June 4th, 2011:

“Hey everyone, I just want to start off by saying congratulations, we made it. Graduating today was the most amazing feelings, and I’m sure you all can agree with me. The past four years have really taught me a lot, I know I sound like the Mallory Barnes, our valedictorian that gave the speech today, but I’m serious, you all have been amazing. Teachers included.”

Y/n wasn’t in her usual attire. She was in a comfortable baggy hoodie, and that’s all you could see as her camera was propped on the desk in the corner of the room. Her hair was in a messy bun, no makeup, and her glasses were sat perfectly on her nose. What no one could notice was the slight puffiness to her eyes, the way they were red and tired. But Zayn noticed, however. When Y/n first uploaded this to her instagram, Zayn couldn’t bare to watch it, so seeing it now definitely brought back a feeling he tried too hard to push away.

“In the past four years I have learned about friendships, I learned about love, and I learned about heartbreak. I have got to say, high school brought me some really great friendships that I will cherish forever. I am finding it very difficult to say goodbye, but we are bound to go off and do bigger and better things. The future awaits for us.”

“I just want to thank you guys for the amazing memories, and I hope you guys make your dreams come true.” Y/n sighed into the camera, she was really bad at saying goodbye, though you would think it would be easier considering no one likes high school. However, Y/n loved every single second of it, maybe not the learning but the memories made.

“Now, I am going to get really sappy for a minute and say a massive thank you to the man who has loved me for the past four years. Zayn, I know we haven’t talked in a few weeks, and you’re probably not even watching this, but just know that I am so proud of you. I don’t know how I could not be. I really hope you make something wonderful of yourself. You were by far my favorite part of this journey. Thank you for sticking with me and for loving me. And even though we aren’t together anymore, I love you.”

“We almost had it all, didn’t we?”

AN: Yeah, I don't think I like this babahahah. Love the concept but someone out there could definitely write it better.

#zayn mailk #zayn x reader #zayn malik fanfic #zayn malik angst #angst fanfic

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

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His Queen - The Darkling x Reader

bitch, I think I outdid myself on this one. I'm shocked I wrote this

He hated the Tsar. He hated himself, but he didn't hate you. How could he of let this happen, he's never been a slave to his emotions. You were married, no, scratch that, you were the Queen for Saint's Sake. The Tsar had made it common knowledge that you didn't belong anywhere but the Grand Palace, in a glittering gown and a jeweled crown upon your always perfect hair sitting in front of a fire sipping on your tea. He wanted you nowhere near the action or actual Palace life. You were merely an accessory to him.

The young and innocent girl raised in nobility, who caught the old bastard's eye by fluttering your eyelashes at him, longing for his person.

Bullshit.

Aleksander could see your repulsion whenever you were in your husband's presence. The longing eyes as you looked at the doors, the shiver that rattled your spine as his sweaty hand gripped yours, or the increasing sadness in your eyes as the months went on. The jewels around your neck glistened, but your eyes didn't. Not anymore.

He had done some digging in the months following the wedding, and rest assured you didn't belong anywhere near the palace. You were scrappy, ready for a fight at all times. There were numerous accounts of you running around villages, fighting your way through pubs and inns. Your parents, the Duke and Duchess, were downright ashamed of you before your big day. You were itching to drop everything and join the First Army the second you had the chance. You were skilled in ways no noble was; you had street smarts.

Then the late Queen died and you were presented on a silver platter to the King, donning all the family jewels that never sit quite right. The King couldn't help himself, the public blamed the grief for his hasty marriage, 'he needed a companion.' But in reality, he saw what he could have and grasped you up the second he had the chance. And now you were stuck here, in a cage with no way out.

Aleksander didn't take a liking to you at the start. All he saw was what the King wanted him to see and for that, he feels tremendous guilt. He thought you to be proper and uptight and spoiled, so when you approached him the first time, franticly asking for advice about a simple state matter that was dropped into your lap by the General himself, he couldn't help but snigger at you and convey news of the stupid Queen to his fellow Grisha.

He didn't know the King treated you like a child or that all of this was new to you. I should've seen it he cursed himself, for the weeks to follow you were the talk of both the Palaces and news spread to camps on the front.

The stupid, young, ditsy girl who couldn't put together a luncheon for Ravka's war heroes was the Queen. Ridiculous.

He believed it too until he had seen you out one night when he couldn't sleep. You were deep in the forest, tending to your black stallion and in what looked like peasant clothing. You had mud on your boots and your hair was messily braided. There was a tatted punching bad tied up on a tree and another person sitting against a log, breathing heavily and clutching his side. Aleksander never made himself known, just blended into the darkness as he did best but continued to watch you eagerly. Only then did he faintly make out your bruised knuckles and the tears in your breeches.

'Again?'

'Saints Y/N no, I've got a way to go and the way you just bruised my ribs, I've a painful journey ahead of me' mused the sitting man.

That night, Aleksander sent out his best Grisha to collect information and asked Genya to tend to you, but you denied yet again (only after asking her to fix up your hands).

Ever since then, Aleksander has been observing you and getting to know you when he could, telling his Grisha it was to gather information since Genya was no longer garnering the Queen's secrets, but he felt drawn to you for whatever reason. You were the best part of his day; whether it was a simple smile sent his way or you rambling about the ways you avoid being followed around the palace, he listened intently and set the shared memories into his brain.

The General was a mystery to you. With his extremely handsome face and confident stances, he mesmerized you to the point of a blank mind. Whenever your eyes met his, it could be in a room of 60 people, rest assured you were right by his side in an instant. You had sought out his presence wherever you went and clung to it while you could.

But the King had made his opinion of the Darkling obvious, and his hatred ran deep. 'He likes to think he rides a horse above everyone else.' 'He's most unnatural.' You didn't care though. As long as he kept himself away from you and just used his words and not actions, you were fine.

You had gathered a particular kindness for late evening walks before bed, silently slipping onto the grounds of his palace, awaiting his companionship. It might have only been 40 minutes out of your day, but it was always better than not seeing him.

Ivan had pointed out that you had an air of hostility around you every time you were in a room with your husband and your heart tended to beat dangerously fast as if you were panicking. So Aleksander attempted to pull you away from him and distract you from the horrid man, and it seemed to work. He grew to like you and would miss your witty humor when he went back to the Little Palace.

Months had passed and he never grew sick of your presence, ironically he craved more of it. He tried to tell himself that you were just a part of his plan, nothing more, but things got even more complicated. He had accidentally mentioned seeing you that night in the forest, and instead of being hostile about it, you told him you enjoyed a fight or two and invited him to join you. That night, after multiple rounds of sparring and hard hits, he kissed you fervently. And again and again, until you both got past the point of going back.

You acknowledged the risk only after it happened and started to panic. You had an affair with the General of the Second Army. He seemed to be in the same state as you. But before you went your separate ways, he held you in his arms and promised it would all be ok. You believed him.

He got back to his chambers that night and his demeanor changed behind the closed doors. He was so mad. He always swore to take what the King loved most and destroy it before his very eyes, but this was a sick joke the Saints played on him. He needed to protect you, get you out of the Tsar's grip, and hide you away from any harm. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you out of danger's way and he knew it. Why did he let this happen? He knew that whatever your ending may be, you would get hurt, maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.

You had told him of all the things the King did to you, how he treated you and paraded you around. You begged Aleksander to do something about it, to help you get out of that life and back to your old one, but there was nothing he could do and it broke his heart.

'I wish I could do something Y/N, I truly do, but I am not as powerful as you may think I am. The King is still the King' he had told you, guilt building in him.

He was sitting at his desk in his chambers now, looking out the window feeling fidgety. You were late for your evening walk, like really late. Sure it happened before, but Aleksander had a weird gut feeling that something happened. Maybe the King found out? or maybe you finally realized the magnitude of the situation and came to your senses?

He knew if the King whiffed out a sliver of what was going on with his wife and Aleksander, he would rain hellfire. He was a powerful man, the most powerful man in all of Ravka and there was nothing more dangerous than an embarrassed man's actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise he hadn't heard in a very long time, followed by the very loud thuds of falling books. The tunnel?

'ALEKSANDER?' your panicked voice reached him and triggered something primal in him. fight or flight. He and his shadows shot up and ran to you but stopped dead in his tracks, the black matter disappearing in on itself. You stood at the entrance to the tunnel, visibly shaking with anger, but that's wasn't the cause of his shock.

'Saints Y/N' He whispered, realization flooding over him like a nasty wave of ice-cold water. Your once ivory white nightgown was drenched in crimson but you were uninjured, it wasn't yours. The huge green Lanstov emerald sitting atop your left hand was smeared in red too, giving it a brown tinge.

'I need to get out of here right now.' You sounded solid and stern, the panic was long gone. The scrappy fighter was back.

Aleksander had always known what to say. But now, he didn't have a single word come to his mind and his body refused to move, he was rendered speechless and useless. This is a nightmare, surely, he prayed.

'Y/N I-I, What happ-'

'Aleksander, unless you want to see my head on a pike by dawn, I suggest you help me' You said as you moved across the room, after closing the tunnel door firmly shut. How does she even know about these tunnels?

'I once heard a drunkard speak of tunnels beneath the palaces, I tried my luck' You said answering his question without even being asked,

Your hands moved quick, shedding yourself of the nightgown and holding it in your hands as you moved to grab his black robe off a chair. Aleksander still stood there, his head whirling with so many thoughts, it debilitated him. He needed her to say it.

'Y/N did you do what I think you did'

'You know I did'

At that moment the doors burst open to reveal Ivan with an alarmed look on his face and his hands raised, ready to jump into action, most likely alerted by the falling books. But he faltered when he saw you, The Queen, covered in blood and holding a bloody nightgown in the most secure room of the Little Palace.

'Great another witness' You huffed and dumped the gown into the fireplace.

'Moi soverenyi, what is the meaning of this?'

'Ivan I wish I could tell you.'

'I killed the King. I have approximately 3 hours before somebody notices him laying in his own blood with his neck slit open' You sighed and sat down, head in your hands. This was the first moment you'd had to process it all, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

A silence enveloped the room as the fire roared back to life, already having burnt the evidence to a crisp. Aleksander finally came to his senses, moved and grabbed a bowl of water and a cloth.

'Did anybody see you leave?' He asked as he handed you the items to wash your hands of the sticky blood.

'No. I made sure of it. I traveled through the tunnels.'

'And the King? There is no weapon near him?' Ivan interrupted.

Slowly you bent down and pulled a small dagger out of your shoe. Small but sharp.

'Give that to me' Aleksander took it out of your hands and walked out of the room while you continued to scrub the crimson off your hands.

You momentarily looked at Ivan, he didn't look mad or upset. He looked like a soldier.

'Are you not mad your King is dead?' You mused.

'He was not my King'

'That makes two of us' You were done cleaning your hands and moved to clean the ring. Should I burn this too?

'Leave it on. If things go sideways, you can buy your freedom' Aleksander returned. 'Ivan go get 2 horses and pack essentials. Get Genya too. I trust you to keep quiet.'

'Yes Moi soverenyi, Moya tsaritsa' He bowed his head quickly and waltzed out the room.

'Aleksander I'm scared now.....what have I done' You whispered. He took hold of your hand and pulled you into him. He held you tight, not wanting to let go.

'It's going to be ok. I promise. There's a small cottage down south I want you to go to. Ivan will take you. You will be safe. I will right this. I will protect you as I should've done earlier.' He kissed you deeply, letting all of the emotions flow through without the need for words.

'And what then?' You whispered against his lips.

'You be you. Perhaps go to Ketterdam. I feel you belong there... or come back to me when the time is right' He kissed you again, it was sweet and sad. A goodbye kiss. 'I love you, and even though you don't like it, you are my Queen. Forever'

'I love you too' Your hands fisted at his beautiful black kefta as tears dripped off your face.

****

That night you fled, your hair and appearance completely changed. The peasant clothes you felt comfortable in were on your back while the heartrenderer galloped beside you. Os Alta was still asleep as you sped down south, praying to the Saints that leaving Aleksander to deal with your mess was the right decision. That he would be ok too.

Ravka was shaken by the news of their dead King and the missing Queen. Some say she was dead, kidnapped by Fjerdans, and slaughtered mercilessly, others said Kerch merchants had her thrown in the Fold as she refused to give up information.

Either way, Aleksander had made sure you weren't regarded as a murderer and kept his promise to give you a chance to return to the Little Palace, to him.

Also if u can see this fic plz interact with it!! Idk if my tumblr is fixed yet and I need to make sure!!! If u were tagged and it didn’t notify you like last time, plz tell me!!!! 💓💓

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

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Arcadia, Chapter 4

Well! What could happen next to our star-crossed investigative pair? Yeah idk, man... somehow, this fic got a lot darker than I intended. Anyway! Thanks again to the same folks, without whom this story wouldn’t be possible. None of this story is safe for work, and this chapter is no exception ;)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

D A Y + F O U R

She’s not sure when she wakes up. Her eyes blink open in the bleary morning… that foggy gap between night and day. Blue-green light streams through the windows, coloring the bedroom like it’s underwater.

He’s the first thing she notices, all warm and curled beside her. Harry… her Harry. A sad smile graces her lips as it all comes flooding back. Mike. The tulpa. The shower. Harry…

But together, all of those things are uncomfortable. Bits of it were nice, but the whole thing makes her stomach churn. It’s much easier to—

She presses her bum against him, hoping that wakes him up. Hoping he takes the hint. Harry heaves a deep breath, but doesn’t acknowledge her. Ginny bites her lip and wiggles back. Again.

Finally, he responds. But not how she’d hoped.

“Let’s… not jump to starting that up again,” Harry murmurs into her ear, his voice graveled with sleep. “Ok?”

She whips around, brow furrowed. “So you’ve suddenly become unattracted to—?”

He barks out a humorless laugh and reaches for his glasses. “We both know that’ll never happen.” He takes her in, reclining on the tufted headboard; she can’t help but feel flattered by the red patches that bloom on his cheeks. “Erm…” He clears his throat. “Could you get a dressing gown, actually? I really want to have a serious conversation and…”

He’s never been able to concentrate while she’s naked, has he?

“Sure.” For some reason, her skin prickles as she rises to her feet to pad across the carpet. Exposed. She feels exposed, even though Harry’s probably seen her naked more times than she has. Because this time, it’s not so much that he’s seeing her body naked— it’s that he’s about to discuss things she’s tried very, very hard to deny.

Ginny emerges from the closet in a white dressing gown and gives Harry a little twirl. “Happy?”

His lips curl in a tired smile. “Not… exactly. But I’m hoping to change that.”

“Oh?” Ginny settles in the desk chair. She’s not keen on this conversation, but some part of her recognizes it’s long overdue.

Harry begins by clearing his throat again. “So. Erm.” He places his fingers in a steeple and studies them. “As I… admitted last night, I’ve never stopped loving you. It’s been an awful, awful five years, but frankly it would’ve been worse if we’d stayed together, under those circumstances.”

She opens her mouth to object, but he raises a hand to forestall an interruption.

“Let… let me finish. Because after Percy died...” He shoots her a significant look. “You changed. Ok?”

“That’s not exactly fair,” she snaps, peering at her painted toenails. “Of fucking course I changed. If I didn’t change, I’d be a bloody sociopath. Is that who you wanted to shag?”

Harry heaves a deep sigh. “No. And I’m not going to let you get away with twisting things… again. Ok? Please, just let me finish.”

She presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth. For fuck’s sake, why does she already want to cry?

“You changed,” Harry continues, “and I really don’t blame you for it, but you refused to talk about Percy, or that night, or- or honestly, even anything remotely sad! Ever!” He pauses to collect his thoughts; guilt stabs at Ginny’s stomach. She wasn’t aware this frustrated him quite so much…

“You threw yourself into schoolwork,” he adds, blinking at the far wall. “You lost interest in things you loved. We still had sex, but it was…” He winces. “Unattached. It was… it was like it didn’t even need to be me there, in particular.” His eyes flit back to hers. “I tried to talk to you about it loads of times, but then when you joined the Unspeakables, you just used that as an excuse.”

Traitorous tears drip down her cheeks. She brushes them away to defend herself. “I was already interested in joining up before that,” Ginny insists, her voice warbling. “You weren’t there that year, Harry. You didn’t see what it was like at Hogwarts. The Unspeakables were putting out all this… this rubbish misinformation about you and about muggleborns, and—”

“—All of that is well and good,” Harry interrupts, “but the fact is that you became a different person after Percy died, and after nearly a year of living with that, I’d had enough.” He shrugs. “And even five years later, you’ve never sought help, as far as I know. Professional help, from someone who knows what they’re talking about. Not the type of help you find at the bottom of a pint.”

He’s right, of course. It’s like a stinging slap in the face, but he’s bloody right.

“So!” Harry clears his throat again. “As much as I… enjoyed last night, that can’t happen again if we don’t fix what split us up before. You’re still convinced you killed Percy. Until you’re not? This”— he gestures between them— “can’t work. Full stop.”

Ginny swallows and stares into her lap. “I’m not responsible for my brother’s death,” she whispers, emotionless. It’s a mantra, an oath, one she’s so accustomed to repeating that it’s turned foreign and unfamiliar on her tongue.

“Oh, I’m aware,” Harry says, spreading his palms. “The whole bloody world is aware, Jenny.” He sucks his teeth. “But you aren’t.”

There’s a pause. Ginny bites her lip, tempted to launch the spring-loaded denial she’s learned through years of counseling. But this time, it doesn’t come.

Because Harry knows better.

Shit.

That fact settles in the pit of her stomach; what are the chances, really, that she found herself trapped and playing house with the only person on earth who knows better.

“I was the last to see him,” she mutters, eyes downcast. “I told him he’d never replace Fred. I was drunk. Stupid. Stupidly drunk.” She grips her head in her hands, but the words don’t stop. They’re shooting from her, spurred by years of grief and regret and bursting forth like a steam engine.

“My stupid fucking temper,” she continues, every syllable dripping with self-loathing. “Ruining everything. And then he goes and—” She makes a flailing gesture. “Offs himself. Right on my mother’s fucking birthday! The day before your parents—”

“I know,” Harry whispers, his voice pleading. “Ginny, I know. But please, love, it’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault.”

She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. It’s too much to say it aloud, to admit it, to let the waves of regret wash over her. There’s a scuttling of movement as she blinks ahead, gaping like a fish out of water. She’s not even surprised to feel Harry wrapping his arms around her and bringing her back to the bed. To feel his lips pressing to her temple as her body wracks with sobs. And she can’t do anything but lean into him. She can’t do anything but surrender, completely. To indulge in feeling raw and vulnerable and alive.

She doesn’t know how long it takes to come to. It’s not until she’s clinging to his chest that she draws a deep breath.

“You never told me any of this,” Harry says softly, mournfully, his hand playing with her hair. He loves her hair. He’s always loved her hair. With a final sob, she admits— if only to herself— that she misses letting him love it. She misses how he’d bury his face in the crook of her neck. How he’d inhale deeply, right at the crown of her head, and blink down at her with a dreamy smile.

She misses him.

Fuck. She misses him. And not just shagging him… but the whole bit. The late-night snacks and discussions on quidditch plays and heated debates about the best brand of toilet roll.

“What… what if I agree to work on it?” she finally whispers, eyelashes thick with half-dried tears.

Harry sighs; his hands still haven’t left her hair. “If we both agree to work on it… because trust me, I’m not doing fantastic either.” He lets out a chuckle. “Do you know how weird that was, being the stable one for once? Anyway.” He waves this off and continues. “If we both work on it, with proper mind-healers…” He swallows. “I don’t see why we couldn't be physical. Eventually.”

She pulls back to give him a watery grin. “I love you,” she murmurs. For the first time in years, her chest feels full. Her heart warm. Like there’s a chance at something in the future that doesn’t involve work and sadness and takeaways.

But speaking of work.

“I’d erm. Like to keep things with us private,” she says, playing with a piece of lint on the duvet. “Especially from work. And my family. Because…”

The thought of Attica’s face, pinched in disappointment, is nearly enough to replace the progress they’ve made over the past day.

“No,” Harry agrees quickly. “That’s. Yeah. Especially from Ron.” He shudders. “Can you imagine how well that would go over?”

“Huh! That’s ridiculous, Harry.” She bats her eyes at him, her expression the picture of innocence. “You mean you don’t want my brother to know that you went down on me and promptly spunked your—”

He cuts her off with a laugh, tossing a pillow on her face. She pulls it off with a giggle before settling beside him.

“Didn’t think you noticed that,” he admits, trailing a finger down the side of her face. “I really hoped you were asleep.”

She stifles a yawn. “Mmm. Don’t have to be Hermione to put that one together. Clue one: you were down there, which you’ve always… enjoyed.” She sleepily raises her eyebrows. “Clue two, I’ve seen you do that before — more than once— and you always have this weird… sort of duck-walk to take your trousers off.”

Harry groans, his entire face the color of her hair. “Please, please, don’t stop on account of me.” He somehow manages a sarcastic drawl as he removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table. “Let’s continue to detail all the times I’ve finished too quickly.”

“Not just too quickly,” she corrects, kissing him on the nose. “I’m only talking about coming in your trousers, which you’ve also managed to do several ti—”

Harry snorts. “And how many times have you done it, then?” His green eyes dance with mischief. “Also more than once. As memory serves, our time at Hogwarts got a lot more interesting once you discovered the combination of my thigh and snogging. You just don’t have the equipment to make things particularly messy when—”

“Clue three!” she loudly calls over him. He has the grace to laugh as she turns so they're spooning, her bum pressed against his crotch.

“I… said I loved you,” she finishes, interlacing their fingers. “And that’s always… you know.”

Harry shudders; there’s a sudden rise of fabric against her bum. “Ok, speaking of embarrassing,” he admits, adjusting himself. “You’re actually going to have to erm. Stop saying that? For now? Because…”

“Trust me, Auror Potter,” she murmurs, dropping her voice to her best impression of Kingsley. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Unfair,” he complains, toying with a piece of her hair. “As you can see, I’m a bit of a mess. It still turns me on when you say you love me.”

“Yeah, well, it still turns me on when you breathe,” she mutters, her eyes growing heavy. “Reckon we can just be messes together.”

Harry chuckles before burying his face into her hair. “I’ll always be your mess. Jenny.”

#harry x ginny #harry and ginny #harry potter fanfic #au fanfiction #arcadia chapter 4

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strawbwrry · 4 years

Text

fulfilled - cho seungyoun

word count : 6.3k words

includes : cupid!seungyoun, angst, fluff, lotta love, and a whole lot of character development!

@celestial-lasagna hope you enjoy it! - [starlight]

—

The concept of soulmates is a daunting one, the idea of having someone meant for you, somebody perfect for you, somewhere out in the world, is a bit difficult to think about. What happens when Cupid, the man who at the snap of his fingers could pair you up with the love of your life, falls in love himself? Does he give up on her? Or does he risk everything he has just for the possibility to be with her?

—

He snapped his fingers, in just a few moments the pair of women just across the street would begin their journey to a beautiful relation, he watched them walk right into each other, watched as their flushed faces, and fumbling hands struggled to figure out what to do, that was his tenth pairing of the day.

Life was bleak. Even with the exciting task of pairing people with their soulmates whether it be platonic, or romantic, what else was there to it? He himself could never fall in love, he could never tell any one of his friends about his secret, he would never be allowed a family, he could never work. He felt empty.All he does is set people up, walk around town and pair people he knows who fit each other well. With everything he needs being paid off by his superior, there’s nothing left for him to do. He walked around without much purpose, simply putting one foot in front of the other not caring where he ended at the end. As time passed he occasionally paired a few people, used some of the cliches, he could only smile watching each pairing’s small shy smiles and blushing faces as their first meeting occurred, watching a love begin to bloom, and as much as he hated the sense of uselessness he felt being able to do nothing, it did bring him joy watching as each pairing began their slow trek to either romance or friendship. He stared at the couple from a distance, deep within him he felt only a pang of jealousy, “No point in hopeless thinking,” he said to himself, letting his mind wander.

“What if there was a point in hopeless thinking?�� He jolted away from the sudden noise beside him, placing his hand over his chest, he turned to look at the woman beside him. He looked her over briefly, beautiful hair, fluttering eyelashes, kind yet mysterious eyes, and a small smile, something deep within him felt wrong, something felt sad, and as much as he hated to do this, he ignored it. “What would the point be then?” He said through a small laugh brought on by the way he had been scared, “It shows you what your not thinking about. If you keep thinking about something you’ll never be able to do, then your ignoring the possibilities of what you could do. If you move past what you can’t do, then you can commence trying to start doing what you can.” He stared into her eyes wondering just what she knew, he felt almost read, like a book left wide open. “I guess you’re right, but how do you move on from pointless thinking and move into thinking with a purpose?” She hummed quietly to herself, fidgeting with her bag a little bit as she tried to think of a proper answer to his question, “You accept it?” She answered with a tone of uncertainty, “You either try and do what you can’t and learn from your mistakes, or accept that whatever you want to be able to do is impossible for you, and try and do or find something else your passionate about...I guess?” He grinned at the woman, “My name is Cho Seungyoun, what’s yours?” She smiled back at him, “I’m [L/N] [Y/N].”

—

“You either try and do what you can’t and learn from your mistakes, or accept that whatever you want to be able to do is impossible for you, and try and do or find something else your passionate about...I guess?” It had been nearly a week and he continued to think about her words over and over again, her voice echoing in his mind.

He paced around his apartment tidying it up, picking up abandoned singular socks, fixing up the pillows resting on his couch, picking up spare papers, placing books back into his bookshelf, then he heard his doorbell ring. Putting down the small laundry bag he’d been carrying around to put his clothes in he walked over to his door and opened it curiously, who’d come around this late at night? As he peered through the crack of his opened door he was shocked to say the least when he saw the women who’s words had been weighing on his mind for nearly a week straight. There [L/N] [Y/N] stood, at his doorstep with a suitcase in hand, and tears streaming down her face, and a scared expression plastered onto he face. “Seungyoun? I’m sorry I’ve been looking for my friend’s apartment and I can’t for the life of my seem to find it, so I decided to ask the owner of the first apartment I saw for help to her apartment, I’m so sorry.” He opened his door fully and invited her in, “Oh no! Don’t worry [Y/N], please come in and have something to eat, you look exhausted from carrying that suitcase.”

—

The room was quiet as he brought in a small plate of snacks for [Y/N], placing it before her, “Are these snacks okay? I wasn’t sure if you’d like them, but I also haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while so I don’t have much.” He stopped briefly feeling awkward before looming at her to ask, “Would you like something to drink?” She smiled picking up some of the snacks laid out on the plate and beginning to eat them as her stomach quietly grumbled, “Can I have water? If it’s not too much of a bother?” He nodded quickly heading back into the kitchen, “Of course not! One glass of water coming right up.” His feet padded against the floor of his kitchen, he continued to think about her words, even as he opened the tap to put water into her cup he could only continue to think about it, he cleared his mind as much as he could and walked back to his table which he sat on the floor across from her, and placed the cup near her, “Thank you!” Her voice chimed as she took a sip and continued to eat. “You’re welcome.” He smiled gently, “If this isn’t too invasive is it okay for me to ask why you’re carrying a suit case with you? And trying to find someone’s apartment at 2 in the morning?” He examined her reaction carefully, watching as her face’s reaction stalled and her smile faltered, it was personal. “I had to get away from someone quickly. I did the first and only thing I could think of and I asked my friend if she’d let me stay with her while I get up off my feet and can find a way to make a stable income. Not to mention find a place to live and make sure I never have to come near the person I’m trying to get away from.” Her eyes landed directly onto his, “The reason I was crying at your doorstep was because I felt as if a man was following me, you can never feel to safe out, especially this late at night.” Seungyoun nodded accordingly, “I will admit I was very shocked to see you at my door step at 2 am, but I’d love to help you find your way to your friends apartment, I’ll walk you there, especially now that you said you felt as if someone was following you.”

“Thank you so much Seungyoun! Once again I’m sorry I dropped in on you but, guess I got lucky huh?” He was taken aback by that statement, “Lucky?” He questioned with a small confused smile. She nodded finishing up the plate of snacks he’d brought her, “I don’t know anything about you besides the fact that your name is Cho Seungyoun, that theres something troubling you, and now, where you live. You let me come into your home, brought me snacks, a glass of water and awkwardly stared at your palms wondering if asking me what was wrong would be too invasive. I could’ve rung some weirdo’s bell, could’ve stumbled right into some kind of danger, but I didn’t. I got lucky.” She paused to finish the stub of water at the bottom of her glass and got up to stretch a bit, “I have her address right here, will you walk me to it?” After a short moment of waiting he instantly stood up and nodded as he began to fiddle with his clothes, he walked over to the desk near his bedroom and picked up his phone and shoved it into his back pocket. “Yeah let’s go.” They walked over to the door way of his house, she sat down on the steps to adjust her shoes, Seungyoun stood near her slipping his feet into his untied converse and beginning to tie his shoelaces quickly, and picked up his keys. She stood up and reached her hand out towards her suitcase only to be stopped by the pale hand belonging to the male besides her, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take it for you.” She shyly nodded along feeling her face become hot, “Thank you.”

They exited the apartment silently, walking side by side as Seungyoun looked at the address scribbled onto the paper, he took a left turn down the sidewalk, he then heard a sharp inhale coming from his right side and turned to see her as she quickly moved her forearm to wipe her tears away from her eyes. He stared at her and she looked at him and smiled sadly through her tears, “I’m sorry, don’t mind me, I guess I just needed to let everything go.” He sighed and let go of the suitcase placing it down on the floor and opened up his arms, “I could give you a hug if you want.” She silently looked up at him, admiring his face illuminated by the moonlight casting its gentle light upon them in the dark street. Without answering she walked into his arms and rested her head against him, gently gripping at the fabric of his thin cotton shirt as she tried her hardest to weep silently. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, gently keeping her close to him as she let it all out, he could feel her tears wetting his shirt but he didn’t care in the slightest. She trembled against him, and as much as he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, he couldn’t help it.

His eyes wandered onto the figure of a male nearby, he felt dread fill his stomach as he realized a truth that he knew would come, they were meant for each-other. He double checked, triple checked even, but he couldn’t deny what he saw, an amazing match. He felt a pair of eyes look at him, he moved his gaze down to the person wrapped in his arms and smiled, watching as their gaze went shy and she looked away. He giggled to himself and lifted his thumbs up to her face and gently wiped her tears, “Are you ready to continue?” She nodded as she shyly pulled herself away from his arms, he picked up her suitcase and again they began to walk. Seungyoun turned his head to look back at the male just across the street working at the convenience store. “I have to,” he thought to himself as he made the choice to pair them up together, his left hand snapping discreetly at his side.

She silently laughed at herself, earning a baffled stare from Seungyoun, “You must think I’m a strange person, showing up at your door crying, coming in to eat snacks and explain my personal problems, then crying into your shirt at nearly 3am while you’re helping me find my friends apartment. I must’ve looked so pathetic showing up at your door.” She continued laughing quietly, “You met me at a truly low time in my life haven’t you?” He continued walking straight knowing exactly where her friends apartment was, it just so happened to be the same building where a few of his friends lived, he let out a breathy laugh, “I guess I did didn’t I? I don’t think your pathetic. I do think that you’ve been holding all your troubles and misfortunes inside as to try and put a strong face on though. Crying isn’t weak nor pathetic, it’s always been my opinion that people who can express their emotions as needed are some of the most respectable people I’ve known. You’re going to be okay [Y/N], trust me when I say that, and if you want me there I’ll stay by your side and help you along the way.” She smiled to herself as she gently adjusted her hair from being in the way of her face, “I’d love to have you there.”

“This should be it.” Seungyoun said as he stopped right in front of a door, his right hand still lightly gripping the suitcase he’d been carrying for the entirety of the walk from his place to the apartment complex. It was a mere second before he felt her arms wrap around his neck, “Thank you so much for everything.” He hesitated for a few moment, his arms timidly wrapping themselves around her waist. As her grip around his neck loosened his arms began to fall, letting one hand barely ghosting near the left side of her waist. He felt butterflies in his stomach when she leaned in and placed a small kiss on his cheek, she let go and gave a small smile, “I’d give you my phone number but I don’t currently have a phone.” Though his cheeks now red he laughed at her words, his arm falling down to his side then coming back up to run through his hair he looked at her smiling, “Well if you ever need anything you could come to my place, just, not at 2am.” She giggled in response, he found himself laughing along with her, a silent affection beginning to grow deep inside his heart much to his knowledge that this would only ever end badly. “Well I think it’s time for you to wake up your friend, and for me to head back home.” She nodded, “Thank you for everything Seungyoun.” He smiled sadly as he tried not to think of the sad reality, “It’s no problem. Bye [Y/N]!” He began to walk, his hands shoved into his front pockets as he took steady strides, he looked back to see her waving, “Bye Seungyoun!” He smiled and waved before ruffling his hair and shoving his hand back into his front pocket. He turned back just one last time feeling happy to see her friends door open and [Y/N] hug her friend tightly and enter into her apartment. He felt his smile fade from his lips as he let the moment pass.

—

“Are you going to go through with it?” Seungyoun felt a chill come down his back at the sudden noise coming from besides me, “Of course I’m not going to Myungja, do you think I’m that stupid? The only reason I’m still alive is because of this stupid job if you can even call it that,” he stopped in his tracks and turned his head, a small smile placed onto his lips, though it didn’t convey happiness, “I don’t want to drag [Y/N] into this mess Myungja. If I do end up falling in love with her, then you can just kill me right then and there and replace me just like you did with the last when he fell in love. Leave her out of this.” His smile faded, “You know, I only begged you to come back so I could watch over my mom, now that she’s gone I could care less whether I live or die.” The ghostly figure of the woman behind him sighed angrily, “Shouldn’t you be more appreciative that I even gave you the chance to watch over your mom till she died?” Seungyoun scoffed as he kicked small pebbles resting on the sidewalk, “Please I wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t killed me to begin with.” She inhaled sharply who which Seungyoun laughed, “What didn’t think I’d find out? I’m not dumb I know very well where you’re from and what you’ve done. How youve tortured your descendants and prey on men who remind you of your very own lovers from long ago.”

“Not to mention how you terrified your daughters, left then left to brutally kill your husband and his new girlfriend early in the morning. Sure you made me a cupid because I look just like the man who impregnated you then left, cause you wanted to cause me pain, cause I remind you of the daughter that you think caused all your pain, but get over yourself, you never had a soulmate.“

—

Two months of knowing [Y/N], it had been two months of knowing her, and he knew he was falling in love, each moment, whether she came to simply talk about how their weeks have been, or came to cry on his shoulder about her fear of the future, or even if it was her confiding her deepest secrets in him, he loved every second he spent with her. He deeply enjoyed each fluttering moment, the moments he felt incredibly warm at just her touch, all the time he spent admiring her when she was unaware, the moment he’d catch her staring at him, every single moment. This night she just so happened to comeback drunk, a silly smile plastered onto her face as she stumbled, the grip onto her purse loose, Seungyoun watched her walk excitedly in front of him, he had just returned from a small walk to fulfill his daily cupid tasks only to come back to see [Y/N] heading right for his door, she stopped right in front. She took a deep breath then rung on the door, he came from behind her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder as he slid his key into the keyhole and felt her tense up beneath his hand, “Don’t worry [Y/N], it’s just me.” She reached up to grab his hand placed onto her shoulder to throw his arm across her shoulders, “Can I have something to eat Seungyoun?” He laughed smiling at her odd behavior, “Of course, come on go in [Y/N].”

After removing her shoes and laying her bag by her shoes, she plopped herself onto the floor near the small coffee table placed on the floor, “Ramen please!” Seungyoun laughed, “Your wish is my command.”

—

He giggled softly as her head began to droop after finishing her ramen, “[Y/N] go lay down on the couch and sleep I’ll wash your plate.” Reaching his arms across the table he gently picked up the plate, and stood up, walking towards the sink and set it at the bottom. His right hand got the sponge and his left picked up the soap, and so he began washing the plate, letting the warm water fall, his attention focused purely on the bowl in front of him which is why he was taken aback at the arms that suddenly wrapped around his waist, and the sudden warmth behind him. “[Y/N] go to sleep you’re tired.” She let out a grunt in disagreement, “But you’re warm.” He sighed and finished washing the dish and placing it onto the dish rack, and quickly washed off the chopsticks, once again placing them into the dish rack. He dried his hands off on a small rag beside the sink and turned around to hug [Y/N], gently patting her back as he let his own back press up against the edge of the sink. “I’m tired.” He laughed at her small voice, “Yes, I know. Come on I’ll walk you over to my bed so you can rest. I’ll be in the living room don’t worry.”

—

His eyes wandered over the sight for just a bit smiling at how your hands tightly held onto the bedsheets in your sleep, moving every so often, he gently adjusted the blanket then stood up and left his bedroom, leaving the door open just a smidge. He plopped himself onto the floor and rested his head onto his arms placed upon the coffee table. Letting out a breath he’d been holding in for a while, in a sudden gust of air moving through his living room he inhaled sharply, “What do you want?” The ghost sat besides him laughed, “You’re so rude Seungyounnie.”

“Please never call me that ever again.” She rolled her eyes and paced through the room walking through him, causing chills to go straight up his spine, “You’ve really let the place go haven’t you?” He lifted his head up and turned his face to her, “Get to the point already. You’re stalling and it’s annoying the hell out of me.”

“Feisty aren’t we?” She paused before walking towards him and taking his chin between her thumb and pointer finger, “Have you made a choice yet?” His eyes shifted away from her and he pulled his face away from her grip, “Yes. I have, but you know what?” She grinned evilly, her mouth twisting into a smile that’d strike fear in anyone’s heart, “What?”

“I don’t plan on telling you what my choice is. At the end of the day would it change anything for you to know what my plans are? No matter what my fate is in your hands, so I guess you’ll just have to patiently wait to see what happens.” He gave her a small smile, “Thank you for a second chance at life, for letting me fulfill my final wish, and even giving me the chance to experience love. I’m afraid it’s time for you to go since she’s starting to wake up.” He watched the shocked figure begin to fade away, then gently rested his head onto his arms again. “I guess all I have left is to accept it.”

“Accept what?” He turned his head to meet eyes with [Y/N], now very awake, and very sober, “Don’t worry about it [Y/N]. Does your head hurt?” His eyes stayed trained on her, letting himself have this one last day, letting himself smile happily for one last time. “It hurts a little bit but, it’s fine.” Her head rested on his shoulder and her hand gently grabbed onto his arm, “Seungyoun, could I talk to you about something?” She turned her head up and was shocked to see his face so close to hers but paid it no mind as her eyes bored into his, “What do you want to talk about [Y/N]?”

“There’s this guy I met, his name is Wooseok, and he asked me out on a date and I told him I’d give him a response after I thought it over for a bit. There’s only one thing stopping me from going out on the date, and how do I say this,” She paused her face growing hot from the close distance of their faces, she suddenly turned away, “Its you. Can you tell me what we are? I just— I really like him, but I really like you and I just wanted to talk about it with you.” Seungyoun smiled sadly remembering that late night when he made the difficult decision of pairing her up with the guy working very near them at the convenience store that was placed just across from them. “[Y/N] I love you,” Her face whipped over to stare at him, her eyes filled with confusion, “But, I really think you should go on that date. I think that it’s something you should do.” He lifted his free hand and gently placed it onto her jaw, he rested his forehead on hers and laughed to himself as he tried keeping his tears from falling, “I’ll go on the date, but before I say goodbye to this, to us, can I kiss you just once Seungyoun?” He let his tears fall freely as he nodded, he twisted his face and let her lips fall onto his, just once. He smiled softly into the kiss, feeling a moment of total complete and utter joy having her for just a moment. For just that moment he felt warm, he felt a love he’d never felt before. He pulled apart from her, it was very brief kiss really, but within that short while he let all his feeling go, he let go of his selfish desire to love someone. He knew the first second he met her he’d never be the same, but as he let his tears fall when she moved her head to rest on his chest, he knew one thing. He’d never regret this.

—

He sat on a park bench waiting, his hand busy mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, that is till he heard a footsteps approaching him. It’d been nearly two years since he’d seen [Y/N], he’d been traveling a lot and she’d been busy with work, her home, and her boyfriend. They stayed friends of course, weekly phone calls, and a FaceTime in which he got to meet her boyfriend. He was a very handsome man, brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, pink lips, the man by all means looked perfect. That wasn’t what Seungyoun liked though, he enjoyed the louving look glazed over his eyes when he looked at [Y/N], he didn’t exactly seem the most open, but Seungyoun rested easy at night knowing [Y/N] had someone in her life that loved her. That in of itself was enough for him.

He looked up from his phone to see [Y/N], the same beautiful smile plastered onto her lips just like all the afternoons spent over his coffee table laughing over unimportant things, his heart fluttered. He stood up and went to give her a hug, grinning ear to ear when they pulled apart, “It’s so good to see you Seungyoun!” His wise smile still stuck to his face he giggled,”It’s so great to see you too [Y/N]!”

—

“Waaaah your engagement ring is so pretty, when did he propose [Y/N]? And why didn’t he ask for my approval?” She laughed from across the table, “Well that’s actually why I wanted to meet up with you, I wanted to invite you to our wedding!” Seungyoun smiled happily, his hand barely holding onto her as he examined her ring, “I’d love to attend your wedding [Y/N], when you know send me the date, time, location, and dress code because I’m absolutely going,” he let her hand go and chuckled, “I’ll even buy myself a nice suit to go.” The silence that followed was tense, he was happy, she was happy, yet something lingered in the air, an unknown sense of discomfort.

“I never told him about us, I only told him you’re one of my best friends. You don’t have to be on edge Seungyoun.” He stared into her eyes, “There’s something you’re not telling me, what do you want to ask [Y/N]?” He cursed himself internally, he changed the subject totally ignoring her words, she saw right through him. “You know me too well Seungyoun,” She smiled rather shyly, “I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle, and I was wondering if you’d do me the favor of walking me down the aisle the day of my wedding.” She looked up and was met with his shocked face, “Of course you don’t have to do it! I was just wondering since— There’s no one in my family to do the job and I want someone important to me to walk me down the aisle. So I couldn’t think of anyone else besides you to do it.” Seungyoun smiled, his hand once again met hers and held it lightly, he then locked her fingers with his and held her hand firmly, “I’d be honored to have such a job on the day of your wedding. Of course I’ll do it [Y/N]! I was just a little bit shocked you’d want me to do that on your wedding day.” Her hand tightened, gripping back at his hand, “I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the job.”

—

Seungyoun’s hands nervously adjusted his suit, he tightened his tie, and anxiously stuck his hands into his pockets, “Thank you so much for doing this for [Y/N].” His head whipped back to meet with the shorter man’s eyes, he smiled, “It’s an honor to walk her down the aisle Wooseok. Please take care of her. You’ll never find anyone quite like her.” Wooseok smiled shyly, “I’m really lucky to say I’m getting married to her aren’t I?” Seungyoun chuckled softly and moved to stand right in front of Wooseok, they’d become friends in the recent months and truthfully it made Seungyoun happy, gave him peace of mind knowing Wooseok. He placed both his hands on his shoulders and grinned, “Very lucky. Treat her well. Or else.” He lightly shook his shoulders and the both of them laughed as he let go of his shoulders, “Seungyoun! [Y/N] wants to see you!” One of her bridesmaids yelled from the door of where the men were getting ready, he gave Wooseok a parting smile and wink then walked to the door, he walked besides her as they ended up at room where the bride and her bridesmaids were getting ready. As he stepped into the door he instinctively bowed before looking up and seeing [Y/N], his eyes gazed upon the sight of [Y/N] in her gown, he felt his eyes water as soon as he saw her. He walked closer to her being careful of her gown as he went in to give her a hug, he let himself cry a little bit as he felt his heart ache in his chest. “She’s okay.”

“You made the right choice Seungyoun, she’s okay Seungyoun,” he repeated to himself over and over again, trying to drill it into his head that his choice was right, upon feeling [Y/N] begin to shake in his arms he pulled apart to see tears gently brimming at her eyes which he instantly began to gently dab at her eyes, “I’m so in love with her.” She began to laugh, “I don’t know why Seungyoun but I just felt so sad when I hugged you.” He chuckled looking at her affectionately, “Are you ready to get married?” She smiled at him, “I will admit I originally never even intended in getting back into a relationship. I’m here now and even if I was having cold feet earlier, I want to get married to Wooseok, I really do. I will admit though, I wish things between us had gone differently.” She stood up and neared her lips to his cheek and placed a chaste kiss to the area just below his cheekbone, “Nevertheless Seungyoun I’m happy everything played out how it did. Even if nothing happened between us I’m convinced we’re soulmates. Just simply platonic soulmates.” He chuckled shyly feeling a blush come up to his cheeks, and then moved his hands, he took her hands into his and smiled, “You know what [Y/N], maybe your right.”

—

It was starting, the moment was starting, Seungyoun laughed at the nervous expression plastered onto his face, “You look beautiful.” She smiled widely and linked her arm with his and was handed her bouquet, “Seungyoun I love you. Thank you for doing this.” He smiled gently flicking her shoulder with his free hand, “Stop thanking me, I’m honored to be important enough to have such a role at your wedding,” they began to walk, “Its now or never [Y/N].”

He led her outside and the flower girl began to walk, the doors were opened for them and with their arms linked they began their slow walk down to where Wooseok was. As they walked in he smiled proudly at the quiet whispers talking about the bride’s beauty. With each step they took Seungyoun’s heart got heavier. Dread gathered at the base of his throat but as he looked at Wooseok and saw his eyes become shiny as tears built up in his eyes, as his eyes stayed focused on [Y/N], staring at her like the only woman in the world he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Though painful, as they neared he let the link between their elbows break, he gave her a gentle hug, and turned to Wooseok and whispered quietly, “Cherish her.” He nodded lovingly as his hands took hers after she handed her bouquet over to her maid of honor. “I will.”

Seungyoun sat down on his seat, “She’ll be just fine Seungyoun.”

—

Seungyoun excitedly rushed down the hall, in his hands were two bouquets of flowers and a small balloon entangled around the larger of the two bouquets. He had once again began back on his life of traveling around the world paring people up with the lives of their life at the snap of his fingers, but chose to focus on one type of soulmates, platonic soulmates. He felt anticipation build up in his chest as he pushed open the door of the hospital room his best friend sat in, as he opened the door he was greeted by the sight of an exhausted Wooseok fast asleep on the chair besides the hospital bed, and [Y/N] gently cradling a baby girl in her arms. She grinned up at him, “You came so quick! I thought you were across the world just two days ago?” He chuckled walking closer to her to place his hand on her head to gently mess up her hair, “Well when your best friend tells you they’re going into labor, you get on a plane as soon as you can and make sure you get there to meet your new niece.”

“You’re incredible Seungyoun. Why did you buy two bouquets of flowers?” He gently leaned into closer to the baby, looking at the small baby girl in her arms fondly, “I wanted to be the first man to buy her flowers.” [Y/N] smiled looking at the beautiful flowers now placed besides the other small gifts brought by some of her other friends, “Well I’m happy to announce you’re the first man to buy her flowers.” He chuckled softly as he felt his heart burst when the small baby began to smile at him, “She’s adorable [Y/N].”

“Do you want to hold her?” He nodded, he pulled off his jacket and placed it on the smaller chair in the room afraid the material of his jacket would be to rough, he then neared [Y/N] being careful with the baby’s head. The baby was small, she gently squirmed as she was transferred from one person to another, cradling the baby was an experience Seungyoun never expected to feel. He adjusted his arms ever so slightly and was pleased to see the little girl begin to get sleepy, when he lifted his head to inform her mother he smiled fondly seeing [Y/N] who had just been awake now fast asleep. With both parents fast asleep Seungyoun couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He moved to sit down on the chair where he’d hung his jacket, he gently rocked the little girl watching as her eyelids closed and soft noises escaped her mouth, “Oh honey the wonderful things I could say about your mother,” he giggled, “It’s Uncle Seungyounnie, I didn’t think I could love anyone more than your mother, but now that I look at you all I want to do is protect you from all the evil of the world. I’ll be the best Uncle I can be. I promise you that honey.”

—

“Angel, hold onto my hand tightly!” The little girl tightened her grip onto her uncle’s hand, “Your mommy and daddy would kill me if you got lost.” She smiled, “Seungyounnie will you win me that monkey?” Seungyoun turned his head to look at the monkey hung up on the game booth stall, “Of course!” The little girl excitedly let go of his hand and ran towards the stall, Seungyoun sat on the stool placed in front of the water squirter then picked up the girl and sat her on his lap, “Angel watch this.” He grinned placing his money down, a teen, two dads, and a little kid joined the game right after, he smiled widely watching what looked like stars twinkle in her eyes as she look at the monkey, “1, 2, 3 DING!” The game had started and Seungyoun had no intention of losing, his eyes focused on the target, smiling widely when the water continuously hit the center point, “DING DING DING!” “Player three! What prize would you like?” Seungyoun grinned happily then watched as the little girl happily pointed towards the monkey, as she took the small monkey into her arms and cuddled it she left forward placing a happy kiss onto his nose, “I love you Seungyounnie!”

He never really had a reason, from the moment he died till the moment he was brought back he’d felt empty. As his eyes gazed upon the little girl who meant so much to him he felt a longing deep in inside his heart fill up with a kind of joy he’d never felt before. His love for the little girl was indescribable, Seungyoun was convinced this little girl would change lives some day, just like she’d came into his and changed his life. He felt fulfilled.

“I love you too my little angel.”

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flutistbyday2020 · 4 years

Text

Mama’s Broken Heart (Formerly How to be a Lady)

How to Be a Lady

Hi, hello, hellur.

Today’s writing is brought to you by @ChoicesFebruaryChallenge. Today’s prompt: crying. I am going to put myself in Riley Brook’s shoes on the day that she returns to court. I’m also going to be silly and switch my POVs because I decided to write from Riley’s POV and not 3rd omniscient because I am a poor planner.

Book: TRR 2

Word count: close to 1000

Riley

“Please come back,” Maxwell pleaded with me. “Come back with me and we’ll fix this.”

My eyes hurt. I’d been crying ever since I was dragged out of the ballroom. My chest was heavy. It hurt to breathe.

“Maxwell, I don’t know if I can. You believe me and Bertrand believe me. But I’d have to convince an entire court that it was staged. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.” The last word was merely a whisper as sadness crushed my vocal cords.

Maxwell wrapped me up in a hug. His arms were holding me tightly and everything felt okay for the first time in hours. “Please, Riley,” he whispered.

I could only nod my head.

Weeks passed both too quickly and too slowly. Bertrand beamed at my success of acting “like a proper” lady. He and Maxwell quizzed me endlessly about wine, forks, dancing, and even which hand I should offer to gentlemen to kiss.

“Let’s act like we are meeting for the first time,” Bertrand instructed as he walked a few paces away. There was music in the background as Maxwell and I were also throwing dancing lessons in the mix.

I rolled my eyes as soon Bertrand was faced away from me, but when he turned around, I plastered an award-winning smile on my face, making ridiculous small talk with Maxwell in an exaggerated southern belle accent.

“Why, Lord Beaumont, you have such a gorgeous estate,” I breathed, batting my eyelashes.

Maxwell snorted at my act, making Bertrand glare, but Bertrand said nothing as he approached.

“Lady Riley,” Maxwell said. “Please allow me to introduce you to my brother, Duke Ramsford.”

“Your Grace,” I said as I curtseyed low.

Bertrand bowed and I offered him my left hand. He kissed the back of my palm.

“You wonton fool,” I said, mock horror in my voice. “We’ve only just now met and your lips are already touching my hand! And above the knuckles! Have you no shame?” I gasped, surprised I hadn’t burst into laughter.

Unfortunately, Maxwell did not have the composure as I. He lost it, doubling over in laughter.

I gave Maxwell a side glance but, to my surprise, Bertrand smiled. “That was wonderful, Riley!” He praised me. “Nobody will ever know that you weren’t born and bred in the courts.”

“Thanks,” I said, tears threatening pricking my eyes. If only everyone thought that. “May I be excused for the evening?”

Bertrand nodded and I took my leave.

My great grandmother had been the wife of an army captain for 20 years and she had raised me to be an American lady. I was obsessed with Gone With the Wind and had done extensive research on it several years ago, which is how I knew the protocol on how to greet everyone. Bertrand had been surprised at my grace and poise, but I was still thrown into a life I had never experienced before. It was definitely not the easiest thing I had ever done.

It was going to be awful when we went back to court, and I knew it. Tears were overflowing when I got back to my room. I sensed Maxwell before I heard him. He knocked at my door quietly.

“Little blossom?” He called.

“Come in,” I said, voice cracking.

The door opened slowly. Maxwell’s face fell when he saw my tears.

“Why are you crying?” He rushed to me and wrapped me in a hug.

“I hurt, Max. Liam said he loved me. Hana claimed to be my friend. Drake said he was looking out for me. But where are they? Why haven’t I heard from them?” I sobbed into Maxwell’s shirt.

He pulled me back and examined my face. “Liam can’t contact you. Whoever put out those pictures wanted to hurt you. You would be in danger if he attempted to talk to you.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Same for Hana and Drake,” Maxwell added. “Liam is terrified for your life. We’ll see them all in a few days.”

Liam

It has been four weeks, almost to the day, since I had seen Riley. Madeleine had thrown herself into wedding planning— I told her to do as she pleased with everything and just to give me an itinerary. I slept alone, thankful for the unspoken rules in Cordonia— no unwedded man and woman should live together. I cried at night, yearning to talk to Riley, and was the dutiful fiancé at day.

It was hard for me to act like I was with the love of my life when I was around Madeleine. She was the complete opposite of Riley— cold, calculating, mean, and a downright bitch when she had to be. I told her that she needed to have some decorum if she were going to be my queen one day, after a particular nasty incident with the staff.

I broke down and texted Maxwell. It was dangerous. Someone could intercept the message and hurt Riley, but I had to know.

Liam: Please tell me she is alright.

Maxwell: She is okay. Today we went over how to greet someone for the first time and called Bertrand a wonton fool.

It was funnier than I can even explain

Liam: I’m glad she’s doing well.

You’ll be at Madeleine’s estate, correct?

Maxwell: We’ll be there.

Okay, I feel a little better now, I thought. I smiled at the idea of Bertrand being scandalous, but the sadness in my heart overtook any emotions. I would give a kidney if it meant I could hold Riley again.

I fell asleep in tears for the twenty-ninth day in a row.

#trr #trr liam #trr mc #trr riley brooks #trr maxwell #liam rys #king liam #riley brooks #Maxwell beaumont #betrand beaumont #choices february challenge

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eveningstarcatcher · 4 years

Text

Day 1: Mistletoe

It was a cold morning in early December. It hadn’t snowed yet, but the sky threatened that it would arrive any minute. In preparation, the back room of the bookstore now included a small fireplace. There was now a fire crackling away merrily, casting a warm glow across the room and casting dancing shadows in the corners of the room. Aziraphale was curled up under a blanket with a book in his hand, but his focus was elsewhere. His eyes were glazed over, staring, unseeing, out the window.

It had been a few months since the world didn’t end and Aziraphale, while he had been enjoying the freedom from heaven’s iron grip, was struggling with it as well. There were fleeting moments where he wondered if he really had done the right thing. But of course he had. Hadn’t he? Yes! Most definitely! The humans are still here, going about their lives, with their wonderful creativity and imaginations. And the bookshop was still here, with its comforts and books. And there was Crowley.

Crowley.

At this thought Aziraphale was pulled out of his thoughts by a bell tinkling from the shop.

“Hey Angel! I brought you a little something! That café you like had something new – a seasonal thing I think… thought maybe you’d like it.” Crowley sauntered into the backroom, head nearly halfway into a white wax-paper bag, staring at its contents. “I think they said it was some peppermint bark… something. Your girl suggested it, so…. S’everything alright, Angel?” Crowley had looked up to see Aziraphale looking up at him with a sort of far away smile on his face. The firelight sparkled in his eyes and highlighted the soft wrinkles at the corners of those eyes, trying to mask a hidden sadness.

“Of course, dear boy.” Came the soft reply.

“You sure?” Crowley set the bag down and sat next to Aziraphale on the couch. “Heaven didn’t try to contact you, did they?” A small spark of anger flashed in Crowley’s stomach, but he focused instead on Aziraphale. No matter what answer he gave, Crowley could read the real response on his face.

“Oh, no. No need to worry.” Aziraphale gave him a smile, but it wasn’t the bright smile he usually gave Crowley. “Just waiting for the snow to fall. It will be lovely, won’t it?” His eyes drifted back to the window.

“Uh, yeah. It’ll be great.” Crowley remembered the bag in his hand and held it out to Aziraphale. “Want tea with this?”

Aziraphale’s gaze shifted back to Crowley and there was a spark there this time. “Oh, yes, please! That would be lovely. You’re such a dear to do this for me!” He took the bag carefully, peering in and breathing in the scent of the soft pastry. “Oh! It is peppermint! I have just the tea to go with it!” He jumped off the couch and began to make tea. “I just found this at the shop and it will be just perfect! Would you like some as well? I also have a nice bottle of spiced wine that might be nice for a snowy evening!” Aziraphale chattered as he went about his work. Crowley smiled softly and shifted himself toward the heat of the fireplace.

“Wait!” he said, causing Aziraphale to pause. “Where’d this come from?

“Oh, I thought with the coming snow, it might be cozy!” Aziraphale called over his shoulder. “And I thought you’d like the extra warmth,” he added softly.

“Oh.” Crowley was taken aback for a moment. “S’nice.” Aziraphale could see Crowley smile out of the corner of his eye. He returned to the couch a moment later with a cup of tea and a bottle of wine.

Crowley takes the bottle while Aziraphale settles down on the couch. He uncharacteristically tucks his legs up beside him and pulls the blanket over him again. He takes the pastry from the bag and takes a bite.

“Oh, Crowley! This is delightful!” He wiggles as much as his current position allows and takes another bite.

“M’glad you like it.” Crowley miracles himself a glass and pours the wine. “So, what’s really going on, Angel?” Aziraphale moves to dismiss the question, but Crowley interrupts, leaning back to get a better look at his companion. “Don’t bother. I know something’s up – it’ll be easier to just tell me about it now.” He lifts the glass and takes a sip. Aziraphale was right, this wine is exactly right.

“It’s really nothing, my dear. Just being silly.” Aziraphale stares into his cup.

“Aziraphale,” the angel looks up at Crowley at the use of his name. “C’mon. Give me some credit here. I know you better than that.”

“I suppose you do,” Aziraphale sighs. “I suppose I’m just struggling with… doubt.”

Doubt. “Oh.” Crowley is frozen. “Well, I didn’t know you were still…” he rambles. “I’ll just…” he moves to set his glass down.

“Oh, my dear! Not you!” Aziraphale grabs his wrist softly, stopping him. “I could never doubt you.” He adds softly, the firelight once again dancing in his eyes.

“Then… then what?” Crowley stutters, his hand falling into his lap when Aziraphale releases it.

“The right thing. We did do the right thing, didn’t we?” His eyes are wide and fixed on Crowley’s. “Ah, of course we did. Of course!” Aziraphale says mostly to himself. “Right? I mean, the humans are still here. Lovely, strange, wonderful humans, and all their lovely, strange, and wonderful ways. That’s a good thing. Definitely the right thing!”

This line of thinking seemed to be cheering Aziraphale up, so Crowley went with it.

“Definitely! And the books! All your books are still here. And pastries, and wine, and warm fires, and – hey! It’s snowing!” Crowley had just noticed the soft white flakes floating down in the glow of the streetlight.

‘OH!” Aziraphale tried to throw the blanket off and stumbled to the window, trailing it behind him. “It is! How beautiful!”

Crowley joined him at the window, watching the snow, then shifting his gaze to the wide-eyed angel. His smile was warm and wondrous.

“And snow.” Crowley said softly.

“And snow.” Aziraphale repeated, his arm gently brushing Crowley’s as he shifted. “And… and you.”

“What?” Crowley froze again.

“And you. You’re still here. And you’re here. Right here. With me.” Aziraphale’s eyes were now on the floor, his hands fidgeting at his waistcoat. “That feels right.” He pauses, waiting for Crowley to respond, but he is currently unable to. He wants to, so many words crowding, trying to fight their way onto his tongue, but there is a roadblock and nothing happens. Aziraphale’s eyes snap up, wide in fear. “Doesn’t it?” he whispers.

Crowley nods, then clears his throat. “Right. Definitely right. To be here. With you.” Without realizing it, he had reached out and took Aziraphale’s hand in his own.

“Oh no.”

“Oh no?” Crowley drops the angel’s hand, then glances up to see the blush on those soft cheeks.

“The snow has stopped.”

“Oh. Already?”

“Yes. Too bad. I was hoping for a proper snow.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

The two of them stood, perhaps a little too close, and stared out the window, listening to the fire crackle behind them. The silence was light, easy, comforting.

“We were right, angel. Couldn’t have been more right. So stop worrying.” Crowley’s hand twitched toward Aziraphale, but dropped back to his side.

Aziraphale turned to face Crowley. “I know. How could this be anything but right?” His face was bright pink in the firelight, smile wide and soft, and he reached out and took Crowley’s hand in his own.

“Right.” Crowley could only repeat. “Wait!”

Aziraphale took a miniscule step back, but kept Crowley’s hand in his, surprised. Crowley took his free hand and waved it in the air next to his shoulder. Something appeared and he held it up over their heads.

“Really? Mistletoe, dear?” Aziraphale giggled.

“It is December, angel.” Crowley smirked, then his face fell. “If this is to fast for you, or if I’m reading this wrong –“ Aziraphale stepped closer.

“Not wrong. Right. Again.” He looked up at Crowley through his long eyelashes and Crowley’s heart jumped. “Shall we?” Aziraphale asked after a few moments.

“Of course. Definitely.”

Crowley leaned down as Aziraphale lifted his head up to help speed the matter. Their lips met softly for just a moment before Crowley pulled back.

“Okay, angel?”

Aziraphale reached up, grabbed the mistletoe from Crowley’s hand and threw it over his shoulder. “More than okay.” He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s shoulders, pulled him close, and kissed him again, this time with more zest. Crowley’s arms flew around Aziraphale’s waist and kissed him back. They melted against each other as the fire crackled and the mistletoe sat between a cup of tea and a glass of wine.

“Let’s celebrate this Christmas.” Crowley said as he pressed their foreheads together. “I mean really celebrate it. Enjoy all the silly things that humans still get to do because we did the right thing.”

“I think that sounds perfect.” Aziraphale smiled.

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #sorry it's late #but it's here #drawlight #drawlights' 31 days of ineffables #ineffable husbands #first fic #my writing

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fraybaness · 5 years

Text

seashells by the seashore

ao3

clary/maia au for the shadowhunters wlw bingo event

“I’m gonna get fired and die young and unfulfilled with my artistic potential unrealized.”

Magnus sighs over the phone. “Do you always have to be so dramatic about everything?”

“Yes!” Clary cries, flopping down backwards onto her bed. “I interned at this place for two years and the second they give me an actual job with actual money in it, I get hit with the worst art block I’ve ever had. It’s like the universe is against me achieving my dreams.”

“It’s not the universe, it’s you struggling to adjust to a different routine,” Magnus says. “You’ve been in school your whole life. It’s a big change. But you didn't study all those years for nothing, you know what you’re doing. This is just something you have to work through.”

Clary groans; partly because she doesn’t believe him, but mostly because she knows he’s right. “ Please don’t go all therapist on me right now.”

“I’m not playing therapist, I’m playing godparent. Get off your ass and draw.”

“But how ?”

“I don’t know, you’re the artist!” Magnus says. “Draw an apple or something. Or go to the beach and draw some seashells. You always loved drawing those when you were little.”

Clary glances out the window. It looks like it’s going to rain.

“It’s too cold to go to the beach.”

“I know for a fact you own at least one sweater.”

Clary sighs. He’s right, as always - moping and waiting around to screw up the job isn't going to help. She might as well try to do something about it. She does have a mostly-empty sketchbook and new charcoal pencils she hasn’t had a chance to try out yet.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll give it a shot,” she tells him. “Thanks, Magnus.”

“Anytime, biscuit.”

The beach is cold and grey and ugly, but not as deserted as Clary had expected. There are a few people idling by the water, in various degrees of undress, and even more people lounging around on beach blankets, conversing among themselves. Clary sets down her own blanket and, trying to ignore the sand, puts on her headphones, takes out her sketchbook, and begins to draw. So far, she’s only found one seashell pretty enough to even want to look at, let alone draw, and no crabs, but she decides it could be worse.

After drawing that same seashell in every way imaginable and hating every single iteration, she decides that no, actually, it couldn’t be worse, this sucks. She picks up the seashell and tosses it angrily behind her.

Just as she’s about to call Magnus so he can talk her through this again, someone taps her on the shoulder. Clary turns, startled, to see a woman standing above her with a beach towel and a book tucked under one arm while the other arm is extended towards Clary.

Clary rips off her earbuds, mortified, when she sees what the woman is holding.

“You lose this?” the woman asks, holding the previously-discarded seashell out towards Clary.

“Please tell me that didn’t hit you.”

“Just my arm,” the woman says. She doesn’t sound particularly angry about it, though.

“Crap, I am so sorry.” Clary takes the seashell back and begs whatever higher power is watching over her to drag her under the sand right now before she dies from embarrassment, which will undoubtedly be more painful.

“Seashell kill your family or something?” the woman teases. “I have to know what it did to be shunned by you like that.”

“I was trying to draw it,” Clary admits. “But my hands weren’t cooperating. It wasn’t its fault, it just got caught in the crossfire.”

“That’s always sad to see,” the woman says. “Well, best of luck to you.”

She smiles at Clary. Clary tilts her head up to smile back, humiliated as she feels. It's only polite. That’s when she gets her first proper look at the other woman: brown skin glowing under what little sunlight has managed to part the clouds today, big dark eyes and long eyelashes, full lips pulled into a bright smile, curls blowing in the wind.

Clary almost blurts out “marry me” on the spot.

The stranger begins to walk away to a less crowded part of the beach. Clary leaps up. “Wait!”

The woman stops and turns back to her, frowning in confusion. Clary runs up to her, wringing her hands together nervously, and takes a deep breath.

“Can I draw you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m an artist,” Clary explains quickly. “I’d like to sketch you, if that’s okay. You can keep the drawing if you want. I could just really use the practice.”

“Um, sure,” the woman looks suddenly self-conscious as she fixes her hair and smooths down her dress. “But why?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Clary says. She shuts her eyes and curses herself for her lack of filter when the woman’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. But, sadly, still no response on the sand-opening-up-and-swallowing-her-whole end. “I mean…I would love to draw you. Or at least try to. If that's okay with you. May I?”

The woman cocks her head to one side. “Are you hitting on me?”

“No!” Clary says quickly. As much as she wants to, she has bigger problems, like needing to get over this art block so she can draw the damn comic and ensure herself a job for the next year or so. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t say I was uncomfortable,” the woman says, quickly looking her up and down. She offers Clary her hand. “I’m Maia, by the way.”

Clary lets out a sigh of relief and shakes her hand. “Clary.”

“Nice to meet you, Clary. Is it okay if I read while you sketch?”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine,” Clary says, unable to keep herself from smiling. “Thank you so much.”

So Maia places her blanket down near Clary’s and makes her way through chapter after chapter of Frankenstein while Clary studies her and tries to get the lines of her face right. Clary stops herself from starting conversation multiple times, not wanting to interrupt her. But, surprisingly, Maia is the one who finally breaks the silence some time later.

“So…” Maia starts, keeping her face turned to her book to keep her pose the same. “You’re an artist?”

“Yup,” Clary says. “Comic artist, to be specific. But it’s hard to draw twenty pages of monsters and werewolves in epic battle when you can’t even bring yourself to draw a freaking seashell. What about you?”

Maia sighs. “Well, I just graduated top of my class with a degree in marine biology,” she says. “So, naturally, I’m still interning and bartending.”

Clary makes a small noise of acknowledgment and sympathy as she adds the finishing touches to Maia’s neck and hair in her drawing.

“It’s not so bad, though,” Maia says a little more optimistically. “I might get offered a job as a research assistant soon. That would be pretty cool.”

“I’m sure you will,” Clary says encouragingly. “It’s tough when you’ve just graduated. Guess we just gotta hang in there, work through it and all that.”

Maia chuckles. “Wise words.”

“Just something a friend of mine said earlier.” Clary carefully tears the page out of her sketchbook and holds it out towards Maia. “I’m done, by the way.”

Maia finally looks away from her book. Her eyes widen at the drawing. “Oh my god, Clary, this is amazing!” she exclaims.

Clary can feel herself start to blush. “You think so?.”

“Yes! I can’t believe you’re letting me keep this for free.”

“It's not half as pretty as the model.”

“Oh, shut up, it's perfect.” Maia looks up from the page and Clary nearly melts at her smile. “Can I give you something in exchange? You don’t have to keep it, but I thought you might want it.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

Maia gestures at her sketchbook and pencil and Clary scrambles to hand them to her. Maia opens the book to a blank page and scribbles something down quickly, then shuts it and hands both items back to Clary with a grin.

“I hope you like it,” she says, sitting back to pack her things up. “I gotta get going, though. Good luck with the comic.”

“Thanks,” Clary says. “And good luck with the research assistant job.”

Maia waves goodbye and walks off the beach towards the parking lot. Once she’s almost out of sight, Clary finally opens her sketchbook to the page Maia was using.

Maia has written a phone number - her phone number - with a little heart next to it.

Clary hugs her sketchbook to her chest and tries her hardest not to squeal in delight. She’s going to buy Magnus his third “World’s Best Godparent” mug of the month. She’s going to dedicate an entire museum to that stupid, impossible-to-draw seashell. And most importantly, she is definitely going to call Maia.

#c: clary #c: maia #c: magnus #r: claia #r: fraybane #au #human au #fluff #meet cute #shwlwbingo

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giveyouyourgrin · 5 years

Text

Breathe.

Chapter One - New Partners and New Beginnings

Surely nobody could blame him for staring. After all, he wasn't staring at some average joe, or even an attractive joe - he was staring at a creation designed to be the perfect intellectual companion. Obviously, the design hadn't worked completely (Thanks, Markus) but somehow... it made him... better. More attractive, in a strange way.

Not to Gavin, obviously, but... just - just generally, of course. To other people, who definitely aren't Gavin. Who haven't noticed Connor and his slightly lopsided smile, or the small, almost unnoticeable smattering of freckles directly below the corner of his eyes. And who definitely were not currently sat at their desk, staring over their laptop over at a quiet android sat atop Hank's desk.

Gavin's hands twitched on top of his mouse. He felt like a creep, watching Connor like a peeping Tom and hoping his scan functions weren't on. But he couldn't help it - it was a truly disastrous formula. A tragic, lonely Gavin, boring file work on his screen and an unfairly and impossibly pretty RK800 sat less than 8 metres away from him. Connor was sat atop his Lieutenant's desk, ankles crossed and long legs bent. He set the coffee he'd brought for Hank next to him, and let his hands drop into his lap. Gavin watched his fingers dance; long, elegant fingers that run over each other and interlock, barely at first, but becoming more and more compulsive as he watched his fingertips brush lightly over his knuckles. His head was bowed slightly, letting a few strands of hair fall loosely over his forehead and sculpted nose. His tongue slipped out occasionally to wet his lips (which looked absurdly soft, Gavin noted) and his chin dipped forward, letting the office lights hit his cheekbones and ears through the shadow of his hair. He blinked once, and Gavin became immediately transfixed by his eyelashes, watching the light shine through them onto his -

Connor's eyes flicker up, and Gavin immediately lowered his gaze. Shit. He'd sighed aloud. Shit. Had Connor noticed him being a weird stalker? He pretended he'd been focused on his screen, and clicked on his mouse twice, absently opening some random files and typing in redundant coding. His chest thumped loudly in his ears as he swallowed. Alright, idiot, don't let him see you freak. Focus on your breathing, he thought. Not too deep, not too shallow - 3 seconds in, 4 seconds out. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 4...

Traitorously, his eyes glance upwards towards Connor, who's stopped looking at him in favour of talking to Hank. Connor leaned forward, listening intently, his face focused and engaged. Hank said something, then laughed and laid a hand on Connor's shoulder. Connor smiled, quiet but genuine, and looked up earnestly at a content-seeming Hank. They looked comfortable with each other, at ease in a way that neither Hank nor Connor were ever like with anyone else.

Including Gavin.

He swallowed again. There was a tugging ache beneath his shirt, like a stone resting between his ribs above his stomach, ready to drop at any moment.

Breathe, Gavin. 1, 2, 3...

"Detective Reed?"

He tensed and squared his shoulders. Of course. Gavin turned around, adopting his signature lazy, uninterested expression. He fixed his blase gaze on Connor, picking up his mug of coffee and letting his back slump in a faux relaxed position, ignoring the quickening thrum in his chest.

"What's up, terminator?"

Connor tilted his head to the side slightly, confused. "... My name is Connor, Detective. Connor Anderson."

Anderson? Since when? Gavin raised an eyebrow. "I know, rust bucket. What do you want?"

He watched Connor's jaw tense. Grinning slightly, he began to sip his coffee and prepared himself for some kind of sarcastic kickback. But it never came.

"Hank has informed me I've been assigned to join all of your future tasks. That encompasses all cases, investigations, interviews, inquiries and suchlike."

Gavin spat. Coffee spurted onto the floor right next to Connor's shoe. Connor looked slightly baffled and disgusted, but that literally could not matter less because what the fuck did he just say to me?

Gavin wiped his mouth and looked up slowly at Connor. "What did you say?" he asked hoarsely, thinking (praying) that had been a daydream caused by misplaced attraction.

"I said, Detective, I will be joining all of your future tasks. Are you alright?"

With a furrowed brow, Connor reached out to touch Gavin's shoulder. Gavin jerked back and breathed heavily. Colour rode high on his cheeks. Pull yourself together, moron. Breathe - IDIOT. BREATHE, GAVIN.

"No, Connor. I am decidedly not alright. In fact, I'm feeling like shoving this entire fucking coffee machine down your throat and then through my cranium. Are you fucking with me, Connor? Cuz if you are -"

"Reed, I can assure you I am not joking." Connor looked at him with a distant but not cold expression. "Believe me, this is not ideal for me either."

Gavin scoffed. "Excuse you, motherfucker? I am a delight, I'll have you know -"

"I'm sure," Connor interrupted. "I'm also sure that I have better things to do than stand here and be insulted by my new partner. And I'm certain if you have any ... issues, with me, Fowler would be delighted to hear them." He folded his arms and stepped back, unimpressed and unamused. Gavin glared at him. He resented everything at this moment. He resented the shitty burnt coffee. He resented Connor's stupidly attractive face. He resented his blood for coursing through his veins at such a pace he was sure Connor could hear it running. And most of all he resented the heat rushing towards his cheeks as Connor fixed his brown eyes onto his face with an impassive expression.

"Fuck you."

Connor turned, and walked a few paces towards the door. Gavin, fuming, returned to the coffee machine, when Connor spun to face him again.

He regarded him with a curious expression, one that was unreadable to Gavin. Not that he'd put any effort into reading this plastic prick's expression anyway, because why wasn't he gone yet?

"You know, Detective, despite your insults and confusing pop-culture nicknames for me, I must say I look forward to spending more time with you. I should enjoy getting to know you better, Gavin." With that, he left.

What a dick, Gavin scowled.

In this particular moment, Gavin needed three things.

First, a drink.

He barely knew what he was pulling from his cabinet, but it smelled strong and burnt his throat when he swallowed it back. So he swallowed more, not entirely sure of whether he was drinking to feel the sting in his mouth or the stop the stinging in his skull. Either way, he was going to keep drinking until he hurt everywhere.

Second, noise.

He had no idea what he was playing on the TV, probably whatever trashy reality show was on at this hour. Regardless, he blared the volume until he thought it'd be justifiable for his neighbours to come over and throttle him. It was impossible to tell whether the ringing, screeching noises in his ears were from the speakers or the alcohol, but he almost liked that,

The final order of business.

He needs to stop thinking about that goddamn fucking impossibly beautiful tin can that he couldn't get out of his head. He needed to stop thinking about his hands, about his fingers weaving between each other, about the easy smiles and happy expressions he'd seen on his face, about the fact they were now partners, and especially about those words that he'd said just before he left.

He flopped onto the couch. That ache, that weight atop his chest had only gotten heavier throughout the day. Without a doubt, if it gained another ounce it'd fall straight into his lungs and stop him breathing.

Notes:

hey! This is my first work of proper fanfiction (lol). this is originally posted on ao3 so I’ll include a link for it. This chapter is sadly v short, but I hope you liked it anyway! - A

ps: connor is sad cuz none of his partners want to work with him, so sad.

AO3 LINK:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412101/chapters/40986134

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 23)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 7.3k story words: 183.6k (so far) chapter: 23/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: @auroraphilealis is an amazing cheerleader and there are definitely a few bits of this chapter that i would have pushed a bit less if it weren’t for her comments of “PLEASE. PLEASEEEEE. KATTTTTTT.” lol. and also she’s a great friend and i’m glad y’all knew who to turn to when my blog randomly disappeared

It was half past six when Dan finally made it to Louise’s doorstep, two bags tucked precariously under his arms, his hands shoved in his pockets to protect them from the unexpectedly freezing March air. He was half an hour late and, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse.

Just as Phil had suggested, they’d spent the majority of the day in bed. And by mid afternoon, not only did they need another washing, but the guest bedroom duvet was so thoroughly defiled that Dan was pretty sure he was better off just ordering a new one. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to let his family — or Darcy — sleep under it again without blushing and feeling horrendously guilty.

And fuck, getting out of bed, untangling himself from Phil and forcing himself to be a proper adult tonight had been nearly impossible. They’d had to shower again, and Dan felt like he deserved a bloody award for not blowing Phil again. He just looked fucking gorgeous wet and soapy and — fuck.

Dan cut off his own train of thought before he could get carried away. If his standing dinner date with Louise and Darcy wasn’t such a high priority in his life, if he wasn’t so determined to never be the person that got a partner and bailed on their friends… well. He would have taken a bath with Phil, instead.

Refocusing, Dan awkwardly kicked at the bottom of the door in lieu of knocking. It was too cold to draw his hands out of his pockets and, plus, he was convinced he’d drop something if he tried.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds after Dan had knocked for the door to fly open, and it was accompanied by a reprimand of Daniel James Howell, where have you been?

Louise’s eyes were narrowed and she was smirking slightly as she stared at Dan. As her eyes scanned slowly up and down Dan’s body, he couldn’t help ducking his chin a little further into his bulky knit scarf. The bags under Dan’s arms shifted precariously, threatening to topple to the ground.

Before he could drop everything — including their dinner — Louise caught the bags. She peered inside, first looking at the massive bag of food, then the smaller gift bag from the toy store.

“Is this for Darcy?” Louise asked suspiciously as she stood firmly in the doorway, looking like she wasn’t planning to let him in unless he explained himself.

Dan scrunched his shoulders even farther up and nodded, sidestepping around her and weaseling his way into her home. He shot Louise a triumphant smile, to which she merely rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to spoil her rotten, you know,” she said, shaking her head fondly and closing the door with her bum.

“Too late.” Dan shrugged, unzipping his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. “Besides, the gift is as much for you as it is for her.” Dan glanced up through his eyelashes, waiting for the reaction he knew was coming.

Brows furrowed, Louise examined the boutique toy store bag more closely. “How exactly?”

“Well,” Dan started cryptically, barely biting back a wide smirk. “I’m anticipating you wanting a way to keep her busy for awhile after dinner, and I figured a new toy would do nicely.”

Louise’s head cocked, her forehead wrinkling up in confusion. “Wha…?”

Dan unwrapped his scarf with a cheeky grin and a pointed stare. For a second, Louise didn’t respond — not until her eyes drifted from Dan’s face to his neck, anyway.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, voice high and squeaky. “What happened?”

Dan instinctively trailed his fingers over his neck, the light pressure aggravating the deep purple bruises on the tender skin ever so slightly.

“I’ll give you one guess.” Dan answered with a cheeky wink, his tongue pushing at his bottom him.

“Was it Phil?” Louise gasped, sounding hopeful. “Please tell me it was Phil.”

“You’ll have to wait until after dinner to find out!” Dan teased. He grabbed the bag of food from Louise and made to turn around.

“I swear to god, I will book your next interview for seven in the morning if you don’t tell me this second,” Louise threatened before he could take so much as two steps away.

Dan laughed loudly, his dimples surely showing. “Of course it was Phil, you buffoon.” Without waiting to see Louise’s reaction, Dan headed down the hallway to the kitchen. “Details after dinner. I’m starved, barely eaten all day.”

Groaning, Louise hurried to follow behind him.

“You’re such a saucy tease,” she complained when she caught up to him.

“You love me anyway,” Dan teased back with a smirk.

In the kitchen, Dan sat the bag of food down on the counter. “I got everything ready since you were late,” Louise scolded playfully.

Sure enough, there was already a stack of plates and silverware on the counter, so Dan set about unpacking the food and lining the containers up in neat row. He left the frankly ridiculous amount of dips in the bag — they’d be easier to transport to the table that way.

“Darcy!” Dan called in a high, singsong voice. He was surprised that she wasn’t already around; she usually followed Louise to the door.

The pitter-patter of socked feet running down the hallway was Dan’s only warning before Darcy was suddenly sliding into him and hugging onto his thighs.

“You’re late, Uncle Dan!” she scolded cutely.

Jesus, like mother like daughter.

“Sorry, Darce,” Dan apologized. “Look, I brought you a present, though!”

“Ooooooh!” Darcy quickly withdrew from Dan and raised up on her tiptoes to try to get the bag off the counter.

“Ah ah ha!” Dan pushed the present back, out of the reach of her tiny hands. “You can have it after dinner,” he promised.

Louise narrowed her eyes, but Dan could see her lips itching to quirk up into a smile. “You’re enjoying making us both suffer, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.” Dan flashed her a smug smile. “I had to wait months for this to happen, you can wait to hear about it until we’ve eaten.”

Louise grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like you suck beneath her breath, but nonetheless turned her attention to fixing up their plates for dinner. Using the plastic spoons that had come with the take out, Louise scooped bits from each container onto their plates.

For his part, Dan took the dips to the table, taking them out of the bag and organizing them into a line in the middle for ease of access..

Doing her best to be helpful, Darcy trailed after Dan, knelt on a chair, and started prying the lids off the sauces as Dan put them down. Twice, she nearly spilled the entire container of dip, either by bumping one or wrestling with the lid too fiercely, but each time Dan was able to right the container before it could spill all over Louise’s pink tablecloth. And despite Dan’s attempts to keep the dips in neat order, Darcy was dropping them back onto the table randomly once she’d gotten the lids off. There was no point in fixing them, though; they’d probably just get out of line again.

Dan and Darcy had only just finished up, with Dan settling Darcy properly into her seat, when Louise walked over.

“I’ve got our food, but can you grab Darcy’s?” Two plates piled high with food, and the water pitcher were already precariously balanced in her hands.

“No problem.” Turning around, Dan headed back into the kitchen to grab the last plate and the silverware, before returning to Darcy and Louise’s sides.

“Mummy do I have to wait until after dinner for Uncle Dan’s present?” Darcy pouted, her fork and spoon still steadfastly on the table.

Louise flashed Dan a quick glare. “Unfortunately, sweetie. Uncle Dan is being a meanie tonight, but maybe if you eat quickly you can have it sooner.”

Louise settled in her chair and immediately picked up her spoon, digging into the Indian food in front of her. Darcy followed suit, saying absolutely nothing but taking far too big of a bite for her small mouth to handle. Evidently they were both eager to get through the eating portion of the evening. Normally, their dinners were chatty and long, but neither of them seemed inclined to make conversation tonight.

Sure, Dan got why they were so anxious to finish their food, and okay, it was kind of his fault. But their weekly dinners were his time to catch up with Louise with absolutely no work talk, and when he was bound to hear all of Darcy’s six year old gossip. When he’d loomed presents and a hot story over their heads, he hadn’t exactly expected them to stop talking entirely.

“So,” Dan started when it became evident that neither Louise nor Darcy were going to talk. “Adaline said to tell you both hello and that she was sad she didn’t get a chance to see you.”

“That’s nice of her, she’ll have to stay longer next time.” Louise took another bite, speaking through her food. “How’d she like Germany?”

“She loved it. I’d never had the chance to travel with just her, like, without our parents, so we got to hang out in a different way. I feel like I got to see a different side of her.”

Louise glanced up between bites. “That’s fantastic. What did you two do?”

“I let her decide, for the most part. On Sunday, we got completely—” Dan’s eyes flickered to Darcy, who was staring curiously at Dan. “Um, we went to a biergarden.”

“Ooooh,” Louise cooed around a mouthful of rice. “How was that?”

“Great! We both had one of those pretzels, you know the ones that —”

“Uncle Dan?” Darcy cut in. “What happened to your throat?”

Oh fuck.

Dan felt his heart come to a crashing halt, and his hand flew up to cover his neck, even though it was clearly too late. The damage was done.

“Uh, nothing Darcy. It’s fine.” Dan tried to keep his voice neutral, but he sounded shaky even to his own ears.

“Nuh uhhh,” Darcy whined in protest. “You’ve got brwuises. How did you get hurt there?” Darcy stood up on her chair, dramatically poking Dan’s neck.

“I, uh...” Desperately, Dan looked to Louise for help, but she was smirking at Dan, her expression filled with mirth.

“Yeah, Dan. Tell us, how did you get hurt, hmm?” Louise teased. In any other situation, Louise would be scolding Darcy, would be ordering her to put her bum back on the chair, but no. Not tonight. Tonight, Louise was taking no mercy on Dan.

Dan shot Louise a look that he hoped said fuck you.

“I, um, burned myself with my straightener.”

“But your hair is curly,” Darcy pointed out, looking confused.

“And you haven’t straightened your hair in years,” Louise supplied unhelpfully.

Dan felt himself sinking further and further into his seat, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him whole. Why the hell had he used that as his excuse?

“Well, I, um, thought it would be fun to do for, uh, old time’s sake.” The grave was just getting deeper and deeper, and the words were coming out of Dan’s mouth before he fully had time to process what he was saying. “I stopped when I burnt myself though. Figured it was best to not risk it.” Dan awkwardly chuckled, hoping Darcy would drop it.

She didn’t.

“But why did you burn both sides of your neck?” Darcy pushed.

Fucking hell, this child…

There was no getting out of this gracefully, Dan was certain of that. Better to just abort.

“Why don’t you eat so you can have your present sooner, yeah?” Dan took a pointed, massive bite of his food and refused to look up at either of them.

He heard a grumbled fine, and the soft rustling of Darcy settling down. When he glanced back up, Darcy was seated again and was studiously chewing her food. A quick look at Louise proved that she was just as fixated on her meal as her daughter.

With a sigh, Dan gave in. Apparently tonight just wasn’t going to be a talkative dinner.

They ate in silence, both Darcy and Louise cleared their plates much faster than Dan.

“I’m finished!” Darcy said the moment she’d finished her food, and primly sat her napkin on the table before looking at Dan expectantly.

“Okay, okay,” he relented. It’s not like they were getting anything out of sitting around the table tonight, anyway. Dan dropped his fork onto his half-full plate and tipped his chair backward. He just managed to swipe the present off the counter and right his chair, gravity very nearly pulling him all the way to the floor. “Here you go,” Dan said with a smile when his chair was righted again.

“Yayyy!” Darcy crawled up on her chair and sat on her knees in excitement, making small grabby hands at Dan.

Dan chuckled and passed her the bag.

Darcy didn’t waste any time; the second the bag was in front of her, she was pulling the tissue paper out and diving in, pulling out the box inside.

“Makeup!” Darcy cried excitedly as she inspected the products displayed in the box. Smiling fondly, Dan watched as her tiny fingers ran across the plastic holding the makeup in, her face awestruck. “Can I do your makeup, Uncle Dan? Please please please please please?”

Dan’s gaze flickered to Louise. He could tell she was impatient to talk about Phil — and, undoubtedly, what the marks on his neck meant — but Darcy was too cute, too eager, to deny.

“Of course,” Dan agreed. He pushed his unfinished plate of food away; he could eat the rest later. “Let’s go do it in the loo.”

A small huff from Louise caught Dan’s attention, and he looked up to find her opening and closing her mouth aimlessly. She looked like she was torn between wanting to interrupt them, and letting Dan have time with Darcy.

“Wait!” Louise interrupted. “You can only do his makeup if you promise to play by yourself for a while afterwards so Mummy can talk to Uncle Dan,” she finally said, giving in.

“Okay!” Darcy grabbed Dan’s hand immediately, her small fingers barely wrapping around his palm. With all the force that her six-year-old body was capable of, Darcy dragged Dan into the bathroom and pushed him down on the edge of the tub.

She thrust the box of makeup into his hands. “Can you open it, please?”

“No problem.” Dan set about opening the children’s makeup kit, taking the various eyeshadows, blushes, and lipsticks from the plastic and placing them on the ground next to them. “What color are you going to give me for my eyes?”

“Hmmm…” Darcy studied the powders before picking up a hot pink product that Dan was fairly certain was actually blush. “This one!”

“That looks great, I love it.” Dan smiled, quietly proud of Darcy for not picking out the bright blue shadow because it was a boy’s color.

“Close your eyes,” Darcy ordered as she rubbed one of the brushes — a brush far too big for eyeshadow — in the powder.

Dan obediently closed his eyes, just seconds before the brush made contact with his eyelid. Darcy’s hands were clumsy and her fine motor skills were still kind of shit. If the feeling was anything to go by, Dan’s entire eyelids — and probably his eyebrows — were going to be bright pink.

The soft sweeping of the brush stopped. “Okay, open.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open, and he could feel some of the loose powder falling off his eyes and land on his cheeks. Oh well, there was probably going to be plenty more color on his face by the time Darcy was done; a bit of hot pink dust wasn’t going to matter.

“Are you going to put something on my cheeks?” Dan asked, looking at the other blush options.

“Yes!” Much to Dan’s amusement, she didn’t go for of the blushes, though. Instead, she picked up an eyeshadow.

A bright purple eyeshadow.

That was going to look great on his cheeks.

Whatever, she was doing what she wanted to do, and besides, rules were stupid and arbitrary. If she wanted to use purple powder that was technically meant for eyes on his cheeks, what did it matter?

Darcy squished the same brush into the purple powder, absolutely covering the brush in the stuff, and brought it up to Dan’s cheeks. Just like his eyes, she completely failed to contain the product to the appropriate region. The brush swept all over Dan’s cheeks, all the way from his cheek bones down to his mouth. Lovely.

“Lipstick!” Darcy exclaimed, dropping the brush onto the ledge and fumbling with the different lipstick options. She settled on a bright, pumpkin orange option. “Go like this,” she commanded before scrunching her lips up into a kissy pout.

Dan mimicked her, loosening his lips a little like Louise has made him do when she’s put lipstick on him in the past. Hand shaking slightly, Darcy brought the lipstick up to Dan’s mouth and smeared it on, definitely getting a lot of it around Dan’s mouth, in addition to on it.

“You’re done!” Darcy dropped the lipstick and grabbed Dan’s hand, pulling him over to the mirror so he could see her work. “Do you like it, Uncle Dan?”

Frankly, it was a complete mess. Dan could tell while she was putting it on that it was probably all over his face, but, if anything, he’d underestimated just how much of a mess it was. His eyebrows were completely caked in the hot pink powder, and his cheeks had messy, massive purple circles. And his mouth, jesus, his mouth was absolutely covered in the orange lipstick. It didn’t help that the makeup kit was designed for kids — meaning that the colors were all much brighter than adult makeup.

“I love it, Darce,” Dan gushed loudly. And, really, despite how ridiculous he looked, Dan really did love it. In the past, he’d really only messed around with concealer and mascara, but having so much makeup on his face kind of made Dan want to explore it properly. To see what blush and eyeshadow and lipstick would all look like if they were applied neatly.

And spending time with Darcy had been good too; it’d been too long since they’d had quality time together and they’d both had fun doing it.

“Come on, come on, let’s go show Mummy!” Darcy ran out of the bathroom, running ahead of Dan to the lounge. Dan chuckled, remembering when he’d once had that much energy. Like one time. Back when he was eight.

“Mummy, Mummy! Look at Dan! He looks like a princess!” Darcy was shouting. As Dan turned the corner, he found that she was tugging on Louise’s arm. Louise twisted around on the sofa to turn her attention to Dan, who was hovering impishly in the doorway. Louise’s eyes grew wide, and she was smiling with her lips clamped together; Dan knew her well enough to know that she was just barely biting back laughter — years of friendship filled with awkward and embarrassing moments had taught him to recognize that face.

“He looks beautiful!” Laughter was bubbling up, threatening to completely disrupt Louise’s sentence. Luckily, Darcy didn’t seem to notice her mum’s amusement.

“I wanna do mine now!” Darcy cheered, already running back towards the door. “When I’m done, can I do yours, Mummy?”

“Um, Mummy has to…” Louise started, trailing off. Dan could see the reluctance on Louise’s face — she undoubtedly didn’t want to have to halt her conversation with Dan so that Darcy could spend half an hour making her look like Dan.

Louise glanced at the clock and shifted tactics. “After you’re done with yours, I think it will be reading time before bed. You can do mine tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” Darcy agreed as she scampered off back to the loo, brushing passed Dan on her way out of the lounge.

When Darcy was out of earshot, Louise turned to Dan, repressed laughter finally bubbling out. “Let me get you a makeup wipe. There’s no way I can take you seriously looking like that.”

Dan glanced behind him towards where Darcy had run off to, a frown pulling at his lips. “Darcy will be sad if she comes back in here and I’ve taken it off,” he said, concerned that he might hurt Darcy’s feelings. “I’ll take it off when she’s gone to bed.” Dan crossed the room, solidifying his resolve to leave the outrageous makeup on for a while.

Louise sighed and shook her head, but she scooched over on the sofa to make room for Dan anyway. “You’re too good of an uncle sometimes. It’s bloody annoying.”

“You love it and you know it.” Dan plopped down on the couch, immediately curling up. He eyed the coffee table and was surprised to see nothing on it. “I was hoping you’d pour us some wine. Hot gossip demands wine, you know.”

Louise’s gaze followed Dan’s, and her eyes light up with recognition. “Oops, I knew I was forgetting something. Hang on, I’ll be just a tick.” Louise stood up and made her way to the kitchen.

While Dan was waiting for Louise to come back, he took a quick selfie to send to Phil. Well, he took more like eight selfies, each one featuring a slightly different pout and angle. Quickly scanning the options, Dan picked the best one and attached it to a message to Phil.

Dan [7:49PM]: would you still take me on a nice date if you showed up and i looked like this

Phil’s response came faster than Dan had been anticipating — before Louise got back with the wine even. Three messages came in rapid succession, new ones appearing before Dan could even get chance to start typing.

Phil [7:51PM]: Oh my god you look hilarious

Phil [7:51PM]: What happened? Darcy?

Phil [7:52PM]: And of course I’d still take you on a date, but I don’t know if Hutong would appreciate it.

Dan’s jaw dropped at the mention of Hutong. When Phil had said he would take Dan somewhere nice, Dan hadn’t exactly anticipated having a date at the bloody Shard. From what he’d seen of pictures online, Dan knew the restaurant was beautiful, and had a stunning view. He’d seen reviews, too — he knew the food was supposed to be phenomenal, but pricey as all hell.

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. He hadn’t expected Phil to go all fucking out for their first date. Jesus on a fucking tricycle. Dan took a few steadying breaths and typed what he hoped counted as a calm response.

Dan [7:54PM]: hutong? fancy fancy. i guess i’ll skip the bright purple cheeks then

Louise came back with two overfilled glasses of red wine, as well as the rest of the bottle, before Dan could explain why he looked like this to Phil. Passing Dan one of the glasses, Louise sat on the opposite end of the couch and faced Dan.

“Okay, spill,” she demanded.

Lips pulling into a wide smile, Dan found himself lost for what to say. There weren’t enough words in the english language to describe how fucking happy he was, how amazing last night — and this morning — had been. Absentmindedly, Dan spun the stemless wine glass between his palms while he searched for words, careful not to actually spill on Louise’s white sofa. “I don’t even know where to start,” he eventually admitted.

Louise smiled sympathetically, seeming to realize that Dan wasn’t just trying to make her wait longer. Taking mercy on him, Louise prompted Dan with something specific to talk about. “You said you were going to go to B ‘n G last night. Start there.”

“Alright,” Dan took a sip of his wine, stalling for time so he could figure out what to say. He felt his phone vibrate against his leg, but he knew Louise would probably throw it out the window if he dared to look at it right now. “Uhm, so last night. I went to B ‘n G right after I dropped Adaline off at the train station. And — fuck. I got there and he was working, right? And there were a bunch of fucking uni students there, too.” Dan rolled his eyes and took a drink. “There was so much bloody sexual tension. Like, we both knew that this thing between us was really going to happen, but... we were in public and there were people around. It’s not like we could exactly jump each other right then, so…”

“So what happened? You obviously did something afterwards,” Louise prompted with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah.” Dan took another sip of wine in preparation for the next part of the story. “There’s kind of an important bit of drama before that though.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up and a look of concern clouded her face. “What?”

“Guess who showed up at the coffee shop?” Dan couldn’t stop his tone from coming out harsher, darker.

“Oh dear, who?” Louise stared at Dan imploringly. “I’m guessing it wasn’t good.”

“Not at all,” Dan agreed with a resigned shake of his head. He took a drink — a much needed drink — before answering. “Isabella.”

Louise’s jaw dropped and she was speechless for nearly a full minute. “Why?”

Dan shook his head, lost at how to communicate just how much of a shitshow it had been.

Wine. Wine might help.

Holding up a finger to make Louise wait, Dan swallowed the rest of his wine in three large gulps. His actions must have spoken volumes, because Louise drained her wine as well and promptly poured them each another glass.

Dan accepted it graciously, staring into it for comfort.

“She wanted to get back together,” Dan explained hallowly. “And apparently shout a bunch of really shitty stuff at me and Phil — well, mainly Phil.”

Louise looked just as outraged as Dan had felt when Isabella made her demands. In the eighteen years that Dan had known her, he’d never seen that expression on Louise’s face. Every ounce of niceness, of warmth, was gone and was replaced with sheer disgust. “She what?”

“I don’t really want to get into, tbh.” Taking another long drink of his wine, Dan shrugged and rolled his eyes. “It was shit. It was so obvious that she just missed the media attention, and there was more of her same bi-erasure crap, and she accused Phil of turning me gay, whatever that means. Plus, she tried to accuse me of cheating on her with Phil, which was some first class bullshit.”

Louise’s eyes were growing wider and wider as Dan relayed the story. It was clear that she was desperate to interrupt him, but Dan kept going, raising a hand to silently tell her to just hold on a second.

Because fuck knows he was nowhere near done with this story.

“Oh it gets worse,” Dan continued. “She tried to kiss me — well, I guess technically she did kiss me, but I pushed her away.”

Louise gasped loudly, but didn’t interject. Dan laughed humorlessly, his eyes rolling in distaste. “I thought Phil was going to have a heart attack. Isabella lost her fucking shit, though, and swore to the high heavens that I’d regret it. Like fuck will I regret not getting back together with her.”

“Oh my god,” Louise gasped. “Do you think she’ll do something to get revenge somehow?”

Dan cocked his head. He hadn’t really considered that.

“I assumed she just meant that I’d miss her. Which I won’t. Obviously.”

“I’m not sure that’s what she meant, Dan,” Louise warned warily.

“Really?” Dan’s brows furrowed. “I don’t think she’s so crazy that she’d try to get revenge.”

Louise shot him a skeptical look. “We’ve already discovered that she’s absolutely batshit, I wouldn’t underestimate her if I were you.”

Dan shrugged and took a long drink of wine. “Whatever. I’m so fucking done with her, and I’m so happy that I can’t imagine anything she could do to really hurt me.”

“I don’t know about —” Louise started, but Dan was sick of the topic already.

“Look, can we drop it please?” Dan’s voice was terse and it didn’t particularly come out like a question. The two minutes that he’d dedicated to talking about Isabella already felt like too much, and he could feel a raging headache coming on if he had to stomach the conversation for another half second.

Besides, that’s not what tonight, what this conversation, was supposed to be focused on.

“Fine, fine,” Louise acquiesced, but it was evident she didn’t want to move on from the topic yet. “Just be careful okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Dan drained the rest of his wine and refilled his glass again, topping Louise’s off as well.

“Finish the story, then. You said you were happy?” Louise smirked knowingly and glanced down at Dan’s neck again.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” Dan giggled, a reverent smile taking over his face. The memories of last night came washing back and, for a moment, he got lost in them. The way it had felt when Phil had touched him, the sight of his mouth trailing over Dan’s skin...

“Because…” Louise prompted.

Shifting to sit more upright, Dan continued, “After all that shit with Isabella, Phil offered to take me out for a drink, to calm down or whatever, so I told him to meet me at my flat when he was done closing up.”

“Awe,” Louise cooed. “What a gentleman.”

“I got back home, though, and I realized that I really, really didn’t want to go back in public with him. Like, the whole fucking evening we had to toe line of what was okay for being in public and I didn’t want that anymore.”

Louise winked, a smirk on her face. She’d known Dan plenty long — she knew how Dan could be once he had that on the mind.

“So I made us a pitcher of drinks, you know, to derail the whole going out plan.”

“Daniel James Howell!” Louise scolded, the smile falling from her face. “Did you do this drunk?”

“No, we barely had more than one drink each,” Dan defended. Him and Louise had gone over his intentions with Phil — and his determination to be in a clear mind when anything happened — and he was almost a little offended that she’d thought he would just throw that away.

Almost. Not entirely though, given his track record of hookups.

“Anyway, at first we just talked. I told him everything — and I mean everything — about Isabella and why we broke up. And he listened and said he wanted to be different and just, cared — wait.” Dan cut himself off. “He actually said something really important during all of that. And I’m going to use it as my album title."

Louise blinked rapidly, clearly thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. “What did he say?”

“He was talking about Isabella and he made a comment about how she is better off loving herself, and it just hit me. Love yourself.”

Louise smiled widely, her face softening. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. She’d heard Dan ramble about the album more than anyone, and if she thought it was fitting, too, then that meant it was definitely the right title. She wiggled around in her seat, and nudged Dan’s wine glass pointedly. “Tell me more about that later, though. Get back to Phil.”

“Well, I kind of told him that I did break up with Isabella because I had feelings for him — at least partially.” Dan’s cheeks flushed as he got closer to the part of the story he knew Louise was waiting for. “And I don’t know, one thing led to another and we kissed,” Dan said, trying to brush over the juicier bits.

“Dan,” Louise said, quirking a brow in amusement. Her tone was almost condescending as she needlessly reminded him, “You don’t get hickeys just from kissing.”

“Fine, fine,” Dan relented. “We did more than kiss, happy?”

“No!” Louise exclaimed indignantly. “Tell me more! I want details.”

Dan felt his cheeks grow even warmer. The last twenty four hours with Phil had been so fucking hot, and he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back and replaying the details. Every single time they’d touched had felt electric, and Dan couldn’t shake the image of Phil kissing his way down his chest, down his stomach, up his thighs, and…

“No sex but, uh, plenty else,” Dan confessed awkwardly.

Dumbfounded, Louise’s jaw dropped and she nearly dribbled out the sip of wine she’d just taken. “No sex?! Why?”

“Last night we were too eager to get farther than, um, sloppy handjobs.” Dan blushed deeply, his gaze dropping to his wine glass momentarily. “I mean, we’d basically had months of foreplay and just couldn’t wait any longer.”

Dan awkwardly cleared his throat, and looked back up at Louise. “And then this morning we were in the shower, so sex, um, wasn’t really an option.” From his neck to his ears, Dan was certain that his entire face was on fire by this point. “And this afternoon we just got carried away again and didn’t, um, last long enough for that.”

Louise didn’t bother to stifle her giggles, but she did set her wine down on the table so she could laughly freely without spilling it. Dan knew whatever she had to say was probably only going to further his humiliation.

“Are you fourteen again?” she sputtered through her laughter.

Dan buried his face in his hands but didn’t try to defend himself — he had come unbelievably fast every time they’d done anything so far. Hell, he’d basically come just from blowing Phil. There was no point in denying how young they’d acted.

“Shuddup, it was new and exciting.” Dan dropped his hands and took a drink from his wine glass. “Beside, I um, kinda want sex to be…” Dan trailed off bashfully, turning his attention down to the hole in his jeans and fiddling with the loose strings.

“To be what?” Louise asked, head tilted and lips pursed. Much to Dan’s disappointment, she looked genuinely baffled. He’d kind of hoped that she would just get what he meant without him having to actually say anything.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Dan mumbled without looking up from his trousers.

“I’ll do my best,” Louise promised. Her foot reached out and nudged Dan’s leg, drawing Dan’s attention back up to her face.

“I just kind of want that to be special,” Dan admitted sheepishly. “Like, Phil’s special, so it feels like maybe the sex should be, too. It’s never been, like, a thing with anyone before.”

“Mmm,” Louise hummed as she took a sip of her wine. “Sex hasn’t meant anything to you before, but it will with Phil?”

“Yeah,” Dan looked back down at his exposed knee and traced his fingers along the rip of his jeans. “Suddenly it feels like it’s… I dunno. More than just sex, I guess.”

Louise poked her foot into his thigh again, and he looked up. “Dan, I think that’s great. That’s a real sign of growth, and honestly, I never expected to hear you talk about sex that way. You’ve always talked about how sex makes you happy, so you seek it out. I guess I just assumed that… it wouldn’t ever be an important step in a relationship for you. But I’m really happy for you. I’m proud of this whole new outlook you seem to have on relationships.”

“It’s not really relationships,” Dan corrected. “It’s Phil.”

“So, Phil is different from everyone else. More meaningful?” Louise smiled softly.

“Yeah, he is,” Dan agreed, his eyes trained on his knee again. At least that way he had a chance of hiding his bright red cheeks from Louise.

In search of a distraction, or a change in subject, Dan cast a look around the room. His phone was still face down on the sofa between them and — shit, right. He’d been in the middle of a conversation with Phil, and his phone had vibrated a while back. Eager to shift the conversation from his embarrassing confession, Dan dug his phone out from where it had slid under his bum and unlocked it.

Just as he’d expected, there was an unread message from Phil.

It took Dan a few seconds to process what Phil had said, but when the meaning of Phil’s message finally registered, Dan’s jaw dropped.

Phil [8:04PM]: I’m not going to lie, though. The thought of you in proper lipstick is kind of hot.

“What?” Louise demanded, clearly noticing Dan’s shocked expression.

“I, um, I…” Dan couldn’t manage to string together a coherent thought. Images were flooding his mind — images he didn’t particularly want to be thinking about in front of Louise. “It’s maybe a little kinky,” he choked out.

“Oh my god, tell me right now, Daniel Howell.”

“I sent him a picture of this.” Dan waved his hand around his face, hyper aware of how silly he must have looked to Louise during this whole conversation. “And we joked about it and whatever. But then he sent, uh, another message.”

Louise’s face contorted into a look of disbelief and confusion. “Dan, I love you to bits, but there is nothing sexy about how you look right now. Half of your face is purple.”

“Not this, specifically.” Dan pointed at his face with a pointed glare. “Just, like, the concept.”

“Ooooh,” Louise hummed scandalously. “Is he into that?”

Dan didn’t drop his glare but he could feel the blush on his cheeks deepen even more. “Just the, uh, lipstick.”

“You can take any of mine you want,” she offered eagerly.

Dan shifted his gaze to his lap nervously. “Not tonight. I feel like we should have sex first.” Dan glanced up shyly. “But maybe we can go shopping at some point?”

Before Louise could answer, Darcy ran back in the room and jumped onto the sofa between them.

“Mummy, mummy! Look at my makeup!”

Dan bit back a laugh, smiling at Darcy’s makeup. Just like when she’d done his face, she’d paid no regards to rules about where makeup was supposed to go, and what product was meant for which parts. From the looks of it, she’d tried to make the lipstick into a crude attempt at eyeliner, and had bright red rings around her eyes. Like Dan, her cheeks were sporting eyeshadow instead of blush — although hers were a bright blue color.

“It looks lovely, sweetie!” Louise cooed.

“Uncle Dan and I match now!” Excited, Darcy bounced on her knees. Dan felt a smidgen bad about giving her a present that had apparently riled her up so close to bedtime.

“You do,” Louise agreed. “You both look beautiful.”

“Will you take our picture, Mummy?” Darcy crawled into Dan’s lap without waiting for an answer, and flashed Louise a pair of big puppy-dog eyes — a look she’d learned from Dan.

“I’d love to.” Louise swiped Dan’s phone off of the sofa and aimed the camera at them. “Say cheese!”

Cheeks pressed close together, they both smiled widely at Louise.

“Cheeeeeeese!” Darcy squealed.

Giggling, Dan pulled Darcy in a little closer. “Cheese!”

Louise took several photos, and Dan turned to press a sloppy kiss on Darcy’s cheek in the last one. When he pulled back, there was a mess of orange lipstick overtop of the blue powder on her cheeks.

Louise passed Dan back his phone and he swiped through the pictures. They were all adorable, and if it weren’t for the hickeys that were prominently showing on his neck, Dan would have considered tweeting one of them.

“Alright, lovely. It’s time for your bedtime.”

“I want Uncle Dan to tuck me in!”

“Let’s go brush your teeth and wash your face and then he can put you to bed.”

“But I like my makeup,” Darcy pouted, crossing her arms in front her chest and stomping.

“You don’t want to get your sheets all mucked up, though.” Louise scooped Darcy up and stood. “If you’re good, maybe Uncle Dan will even read you a book.”

“Really!?” Darcy looked excitedly to Dan.

“Any book you want,” Dan promised.

“Okay! Let’s go, Mummy!”

Louise giggled and carried Darcy to the loo. “We’ll be back in a minute to get you, Daniel!”

Taking advantage of the moment alone, Dan opened his conversation with phone and typed a quick response.

Dan [8:19PM]: noted.

Phil must not be busy tonight, because his response came quickly.

Phil [8:20PM]: Maybe just not bright orange

Dan [8:21PM]: not sexually attracted to pumpkins? im hurt phil

Phil [8:22PM]: No but I am ridiculously sexually attracted to you.

Even from across London, Phil was making Dan blush. Dan stared at Phil’s message, savoring the fact that not only was Phil ridiculously attracted to him, but also the fact that that was something they were allowed to say, now. Dan sort of wanted that message framed and hung on his wall so he could see it every day.

Dan [8:24PM]: i can tell. you made a right mess of me today

Dan [8:25PM]: what color would you be interested in

Dan [8:25PM]: theoretically.

Biting his lip — and probably getting orange all over his teeth in the process — Dan stared anxiously at his phone while waited for a response.

Phil [8:26PM]: Theoretically? Dark red.

Phil [8:26PM]: And theoretically, I imagine it’d go well with stockings.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The image of himself in dark red lipstick and black stockings, with Phil kissing up his leg… fuck.

Dan could not get a boner right now.

Dan [8:27PM]: abort

Dan realized that his message probably made it sound like he wasn’t into what Phil was suggesting, rather than that he was too into it. He quickly typed out a second message.

Dan [8:27PM]: i have to read darcy a story in like .2 seconds and i can’t do that if you get me worked up again

Phil [8:28PM]: Oops

Phil [8:28PM]: When do I get to see you again?

Dan tabbed over to his calendar, and grimaced at the fact that the next four days were blocked off from morning ‘til evening, all just with the description STUDIO.

And sure, he had a whole fuckton more direction and inspiration than he had twenty four hours ago. And sure, he already had a chorus of lyrics rattling about his head.

But fuck he didn’t want to be a responsible adult. He just wanted to see Phil.

Dan [8:30PM]: i have to work during the day all week, but i can do dinner any night

Phil [8:31PM]: Tomorrow night then. I’ll make a reservation and pick you up. 7 okay?

Dan [8:32PM]: perfect. come over a little earlier? i wanna be with you alone before we have to go out in public

Phil [8:32PM]: I’ll be there at 6 xx

Dan [8:33PM]: fine. but make the reservation for 8 then xx

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #ly #love yourself #phan au #coffee shop au #barista!phil #singer!dan #slowburn #iminclinedtowriting #mine

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renywrites · 6 years

Text

Worth The Risk

Hello everyone! Sorry I’ve been MIA, it’s been a long couple of weeks, and they’re just about to get longer. Pray for me. Here’s the last part of my Children of the Sea series, I hope you like it!

(I may add to this, I’m thinking about opening commissions for Christmas, so if you like this and want more, let me know!)

Lance had fucked up. He had royally fucked up.

After he had been rescued by a panicky fisherman neighbor and taken back home, fussed over by his mother and put to bed, he realized just how big of a mistake he had made. In his cold medicine induced haze, he had realized that the siren had talked to him. Okay, so maybe it had been telepathic, but it still counted!

God, and his voice had been lovely. Soft and crooning, curling around the corners of his mind delicately, like he was afraid his words, his presence in his mind, might scare Lance off.

The poor thing had been scared, he realises, for Lance. And after his outburst, because of Lance. And… he had yelled at the creature for things beyond his control. It was likely he was never going to see him again. If anyone had yelled at him for doing his best to help, the Cuban certainly wouldn’t want anything to do with them, not to mention the amount of damage his pride would take.

With a groan, Lance rolls over onto his side, pulling the pillow over his head. He was going to have to fix this, and fast.

Keith didn’t go back to the surface, even after the storm had calmed. Shiro had been waiting with baited breath for his little brother to escape the minute the waters had evened out and returned to normal, ready to drag him back by his tailfin if need be. But… it didn’t happen.

In fact, the little siren was more subdued and quiet than he had been since Shiro had taken him in all those years ago. He stuck close to his brother or Pidge’s side, never daring to stray outside of the territory lines. He hardly spoke, hardly ate, hardly took interest in play fighting or teasing his brother. It was worrying. Shiro was very worried.

Keith, he tries one afternoon. Do you want to go to the surface and try to help me find your human? It was his only hope. As much as he hated how happy this human made his brother, he couldn’t bear seeing him like this any longer.

Can we? His little brother gives him a surprised look, his fins flaring with interest. They droop after a little while, his expression falling with them. No, he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to see me. He doesn’t like me.

I’m sure that isn’t true, Shiro offers, but he wasn’t absolutely sure. Keith’s expression told him that this was clear on his own face, his amethyst eyes wide and sad.

It is. Red scales flick nervously, his injured tailfin lagging just a bit more than the others.

And you’re absolutely certain of this? His older brother gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. It seems to work; Keith falters, glancing up at the distant surface.

No…

Well, then. Why don’t we go see if it is? Shiro offers him his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Keith takes it.

Some small part of him hoped Lance was waiting. But another part was making doubt curl unpleasantly in his belly, reminding him of the harsh words and even harsher look he’d been given.

Nobody was there.

Shiro had set him in one of the shallow tide pools just shy of the shore, close enough where Lance would be able to see him and far enough away for Shiro to be able to pull him to safety. His brother was lingering in the shallows, waiting and watching, out of sight.

But… he wasn’t here. Keith waits, and waits, and… waits. He waits until the sun sets and the salt has crusted over his scales, until the tides are coming in and he blames the spray of the foam for the water on his face. He wasn’t crying. He… wouldn’t cry over a human. Not again, anyways.

The little siren was crying, though. It started slow, just a little prick of tears that could’ve been caused by a number of things. But as more time passes and nobody shows up, his mind starts replaying the storm and everything in it. Watching Lance get thrown from the boat. Dragging him through the water to safety, begging and praying to Poseidon that this human would live, that he would spare this one human.

It isn’t long before he’s crying in earnest, pressing his webbed fingers to his face to stifle his quiet sobs, his gills flaring in confusion as he hiccups for breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had he come back? He obviously wasn’t wanted.

He stays there, crying quietly and feeling terribly pathetic. What kind of siren sheds tears over a human, his mind scoffs. Not any proper ones.

Keith doesn’t even notice he’s not alone before someone sloshes the water next to him and gasps a soft, “You came back?”

He jumps with a soft shriek of surprise, recoiling when his human crouches down next to him, his blue eyes wide and lovely and beautiful.

Lance sits there for a moment, stunned and flooded with relief and happiness. “I can’t believe… you came back! It’s really you, isn’t it? I’m so sorry,” He reaches over, cupping Keith’s cheeks, his eyes searching Keith’s own. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things.”

The siren’s wide purple eyes watch him a moment before he sags, nuzzling into Lance’s palm, closing his eyes. You didn’t mean it?

“No, no, of course I didn’t mean it. Oh, baby…” A thumb brushes under Keith’s eye, Lance’s voice cracking. “Were you crying? I’m so sorry…”

The human shuffles into the tide pool, clothes be damned, and scoops the siren into his lap. He whispers apologies in a language Keith doesn’t understand, rocking him and holding him close. It was everything he had hoped for and dreamt about.

His tears dry, his anxious nerves soothes by the soft words from his human, the hand brushing lovingly against his scales, cradling him close like he was something precious. Like something that was meant to be cared for.

He tilts his chin up once he was calmed, looking up at his human, bathed in the soft golden glow of the setting sun. He was breathtaking. Keith reaches up, brushing his fingertips over his cheekbones and smiling faintly when his thick eyelashes flicker, blue irises flicking to amethyst.

The little siren realizes almost immediately that he was in love. Oh, was he in love. Wasn’t that a scary thought? A siren in love with a mortal. He’d been taught all his life that it was a terrible idea to consort with them, that they would take things to keep for themselves. He knew now what they meant by that - but Keith had given his heart to this human.

I don’t know your name, he blinks.

The Cuban laughs. “I don’t know yours, either. I’m Lance.”

Keith, the siren offers shyly.

“Keith,” His human - Lance - repeats, causing a shiver to run up his spine at the slow way it rolled over his tongue. “That’s a beautiful name. It suits you.”

Thank you. He blushes, biting his lip with sharp little teeth, weighing the next words he wanted to say. Can… Would it be okay if… May I kiss you?

Lance blinks, his cheeks heating and turning a shade darker. “I, uh- Yeah! Yes. You may. Please.”

The siren lets out an amused little chirrup, tipping his chin up. Lance smiles, flustered, and leans down, connecting their lips in a soft kiss. It was the best kiss either had ever experienced - and this was only the little siren’s first.

It wasn’t hard to decide that he wanted this human - tides, it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to decide to want this human. But there was an art to keeping one, and Keith had every intention to do just that. So as the sun set and as Lance kissed him until his lips were red and tender and his face matched, Keith was glad for all of this.

Maybe it was silly of them, to fall in love even with how different they were. But once you’re in love, it’s hard to simply walk - or in Keith’s case, swim - out of it. Besides, who would want to give up something as lovely as this?

Yes, Keith thinks to himself, around the third time Lance pulls him back into a devastatingly gentle kiss, remembering all the times he’d been lectured on the dangers of humans and snuck out to see them anyways. This was definitely worth the risk.

#klance #keith #lance #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #siren keith #cuban lance #dorks in love #angst #hurt and comfort

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fraysbanes · 4 years

Text

seashells by the seashore

Characters: Maia Roberts, Clary Fray, Magnus Bane

Relationship: Clary Fray/Maia Roberts, Clary Fray & Magnus Bane

Rating: G

Summary: written for the shadowhunters wlw fic bingo, for the square “post-college meet-cute”

also check out this gorgeous art based on this fic!

“I’m gonna get fired and die young and unfulfilled with my artistic potential unrealized.”

Magnus sighs over the phone. “Do you always have to be so dramatic about everything?”

Clary groans; partly because she doesn’t believe him, but mostly because she knows he’s right. “ Please don’t go all therapist on me right now.”

“I’m not playing therapist, I’m playing godparent. Get off your ass and draw.”

“But how?”