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yelenasdog · 3 years

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𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do.

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous.

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

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aliensunflower-fics · 4 years

Text

The Liar Trap: A Lila Salt Prompt

You expect me to believe that after Lila gets Marinette expelled that Marinette would just leave that alone? Marinette the girl who made a tamper proof DIARY box?? Yeah I don't think so years of Chloe messing with her and her things, Lila proving to be the same kind of bully, and then of course the added paranoia of hiding Tikki and a secret identity everyday should mean that Marinette is some kind of bully prepper from hell. So I present to you my idea:

Lila’s first attacks were when Marinette was unprepared Chloe had been getting soft lately choosing words over playing dirty the change had been brought on partially by Adrien and partially because Chloe and Sabrina were tired of falling prey to Marinette’s traps. And with the threat of Chloe diminished Alya and others had been able to convince Marinette to disarm her many safety precautions. But then sure enough along came Lila to exploit those weaknesses and exploit them she had! Marinette had been EXPELLED and even if the issue was eventually cleared up Marinette was back on the warpath!

By next monday her old traps were back up and new ones were being drafted. Everything from her bag to her sketchbook to her special art room locker had been fortified and prepared. Marinette had no doubt Lila would lay low for a while but eventually she would coil herself to strike again and when she did she would be caught in Marinette’s traps. Until then all she had to do was prepare and take lessons on composure and remaining calm reacting harshly to Lila’s lies would serve only to bury her; she needed a cool head to deal with the liar. And luckily Kagami was an amazing teacher and a devious friend with many suggestions of her own on how to handle Lila effectively now all Marinette had to do was wait.

It took Lila 2 weeks to make her next move the plan was simple enough, the liar had snagged Alya’s phone and planned to wait until Alya was frantic before ‘helpfully’ pointing out she'd seen it in Marinette’s school bag hopefully the whole thing would build tension between the pair and distrust for Lila to feed on. Only that never happened, stage 1 acquiring the phone was easy but it was during stage 2 slipping it in Marinette’s bag during class that she hit failure as her thin thieving hands were suddenly met with a SNAP upon entering Marinette’s bag. The trap was simple, a design loosely based on your everyday mouse trap only softened so it didn’t hurt QUITE as much after all Marinette didn't need Lila actually getting hurt. But still it hurt enough and was shocking enough that the little liar screamed disrupting class.

Now it was time for Kagami’s lessons to come into play. As Lila revealed her hand and wailed about Marinette’s bag attacking her, the baker keeps a calm head amid the confusion and accusations and “what the heck Marinette!” She explains that after being framed for cheating on the last test and her PAST experiences (At that everyone glances at Chloe) she decided to make her bag tamper proof. Lila is quick to accuse Marinette of bias against her as she tries to save face but Marinette just hides a smirk as Alya and everyone are quick to assure Lila that it isn't her but someone else (Chloe) that Marinette is accusing with the class firmly on her side Marinette frees Lila’s hand and tells the italian that next time she needs to borrow a pencil she should simply ask first. Furious Lila reveals her last card, Alya’s phone! And how it was in Marinette’s bag! Instead of an uproar or Marinette scrambling to defend herself Alya hugs Marinette and thanks her, apparently the blogger losing her phone is a common occurrence and its standard protocol for someone in class to pick it up and give it to her later. Score One: Marinette.

In the following weeks similar incidents occur. Lila manages to break into Marinette’s locker thinking the flimsy looking lock was the only thing holding her back only to find herself covered head to toe in cheap sticky glitter paint! Lila throws a fit and Marinette feigns concern that the art supplies she brought were so precariously placed she apologizes and kindly offers to make Lila a new outfit and then makes a point to ask in an innocent and confused tone that EVERYONE can hear just what Lila was doing in her locker in the first place? Lila gets her paws on Marinette’s sketchbook dreaming of stealing the girls designs and framing her? Tough luck she opens the sketchbook to an artfully crafted pop-up mocking her failure and every other page is empty! She goes after Marinette’s precious designs in the school art room? This time it's latex paint that falls on her. Dump coffee on Marinette? Somehow everything important is in waterproof cases and now the cutest guy in school (yes even cuter than Agreste) is offering Marinette his sweater so she can finish up the school day without an emergency home visit and hey is she free for the school dance? Steal her purse? Strangely enough, she gets seemingly cursed with bad luck and ends up caught red handed by Alix and Max and getting a REAL sprained wrist!

And during every single incident Marinette is calm and forgiving and understanding and apologetic. She has answers for every accusation and is quick to turn whatever she can around after all why IS Lila looking in her locker? Why is she in the art room alone going through Marinette’s stuff!? Why does she clearly have one of Marinette’s sketchbooks in her bag? That’s the third thing she spilt on Marinette this month! The final piece is Marinette’s purse and the plague of bad luck it brings Lila the moment she snatches it suddenly everyone is a LOT more suspicious, because before? Well it could just be coincidence or bad luck or any of the other many excuses Lila had come up with but this time was different and Alix and Max were witnesses. Now everyone is keen to keep an eye on Lila, and with them paying closer attention they start to notice how easily and how often Lila is to blame Marinette for things, or how she casually and ‘helpfully’ (accuses) points out that Marinette of being a bad friend, or a ‘bully’.

Now how does Lila get exposed? There are options, maybe she gets caught red handed by the now observant classmates and this time she cant lie out of it. Maybe after all her failures to destroy her at school Lila tries to lie her way into the bakery only to learn the traps in Marinette’s room are worse. Maybe she gets careless in her frustration. Maybe Tikki’s residual bad luck from when Lila snagged the purse follows Lila ruining her. Or maybe now that everyone has a closer eye on Lila they realize how she targets Marinette how her friendly advice is needlessly harsh how her honey laced words don't sound QUITE right so eventually they all treat Lila like a friendly acquaintance but never trust her words eventually Lila snaps in frustration or maybe she just moves on. But no matter what happens the class apologize to Marinette and they work to be better friends the kind of friend Kagami turned out to be during the entire Lila ordeal, loyal trusting relying on honest communication to work through hardships.

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#my fic #ml salt prompt #ml salt #lila salt #lila salt prompt

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Nasty

Summary: August is going to hell and he is dragging you down with him. Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd person Pov)

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Serious smut, GRAPHIC depictions of sexual intercourse, auto-voyeurism (Is that a thing?)

A/N: @luclittlepond made this request! I obliged. Honestly, I feel like it’s the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written and I want to thank @agniavateira for being my beta and @wondersofdreaming for giving me feedback since it was not an easy write for some reason.

Please leave feedback 💖🥺 and more importantly, enjoy.

Title: Nasty

“Unlock the door, my balls are freezing,” August urges while his hands survey the plains of your body possessively. A sharp, languid hiss caresses the sensitive skin of your neck, his deep voice chanting sweet profanities as he grinds himself against you for the sake of heat and lust-filled friction.

The temperature at the narrow corridor must be 10 degrees below zero, quite ordinary for January at St. Petersburg, Russia. Another successful mission came to end; the target was eliminated and sweep-up had been ordered. Now, all August wants to do after a triumphant assassination is to fuck like a deranged animal.

You never doubted the idea that murder gets him hard.

Breathing in fumes, you try to twist the key inside the lock, motoric functions reduced to jitters and tremors as August shoves a finger between your legs, rough and invasive, he journeys from your mound to your ass and presses it crudely. His rock-hard erection nudges at your lower back, reducing your concentration to scattered specks of dust.

“Don’t make me fuck you right here in the hallway,” he warns and slides down to his knees with his talons lifting both your heavy coat and skirt, exposing the round curve of your behind. Teeth as sharp as blades pierce the ample flesh of your cheek and you give out a high-pitched yip of pain which echoes through the entire hallway.

Crying for him to stop would do no good. August doesn’t give an inch. The cold man lacks any sense of tenderness and he has a thing for leaving his marks all over your body, just the way he would brand his livestock. The agent stretches to stand up, shoving himself against your ass while his hands hike the thick hem of your skirt all the way up to your torso.

“If you keep doing that I won’t be able to get it open!” You complain angrily and then finally manage to twist the key inside. The moment the rusty cylinder spins, August whirls the both of you into the apartment and kicks the door shut with his foot.

The small rental smells like wet newspaper and mould. The dusty air becomes saturated with the humidity of sweat and heated pants. Stumbling further inside, you kiss furiously and claw at each other’s throats like two hungry vultures. Your coats fall to the floor, the tight skirt gathers around your abdomen and August’s hand reaches to cup the heat between your legs with the elegance of a raging bull.

Pathetic puny whimpers disappear into the hot cavern of his mouth, impassioned, you writhe against his almost-aggressive intrusion, letting his thumb graze over your covered clit. August Walker’s treatment is borderline degrading, making you feel dirty, baptized in the black bathwater of sin.

You would never let any other manhandle you like this; a tender woman such as yourself requires a gentle hand, not whatever twisted games August wants to play with your body. And still, he brings you closer to heaven than you’d ever wish to admit and those little moments of rapture are worth every bit of shame.

Taking your shoulders in his grip, August pulls you down, knees hitting the stone-cold floor. He follows below, his tongue violating your mouth within moments, low hums singing into your throat while his fingers make quick work at the buttons of your blouse. His breath still tastes of the wine he had earlier, inhaling him is enough to reach intoxication. Tugging his shirt from his trousers, you try to undress him. Buttons fly everywhere as you rip it open with extreme force.

August breaks the kiss with a quick bite on your lip, enough to cause a sharp sting at the soft plush of flesh. Wringing your shoulder, he turns you around and rests a hand on the snake of your spine to bend you over at his will.

“Bitch,” he grunts, shuffling to stand on his knees and fumbling with his belt. Tendrils of shivers coarse through your nerves spiralling cold and eclectic as the distinguished click of metal and husky brush of leather rustle from behind.

“That was my favourite shirt.”

“They all look the same,” you mock him and turn your head back, staring at the focused expression on his face. His brows knit together, a deep scowl forming long creases on his forehead. August gawks at the wet patch in your underwear with dark fascination, his tongue flaking over his lips before his hand reaches to peel them down and collect the arousal that drips between your thighs with long ardent fingers.

A desperate moan escapes the trenches of your throat. His fingers ascending to pry between your folds, pushing inside to test the mysteries of your heat. The callous pads of his fingers stroke the damp, plump flesh, making room for his odious inspection.

“Look at you,” he mocks, corrupting and stretching your desire, pumping in and out until his knuckles glisten with the juices of arousal. “You want my cock badly, don’t you sweetheart?” He murmurs, snapping his fingers to engulf at his thick, endowed erection.

Short spasms of tremoring delights shudder through every cell as he grabs his shaft and slaps it against your swollen lips, grinding rough and vulgar while you buck with harrowing need against the ridges of his cock. He paints himself in your sweet nectar, teasing both your womanhood and the puckered hole that clenches in fear from his monstrous girth.

This fearful reaction never ceases to make him laugh with malice. “Don’t worry, pet, I'm not going in there tonight unless you really want to...”

“Fuck you, Walker,” you spit out, squirming back and forth as August tames your body into submission.

“Oh I’m about to…” he murmurs, dipping the tip of his erection inside you, eliciting powerless mewls as a violent throb gushes through your centre. “I wish you could see how beautiful your pussy looks with my cock entering you.”

Bracing yourself on your arms and knees, you take a deep breath. August indulges what he sees in front of him, taking his time, teasing, torturing and savouring the small hisses that kick out of your chest with every single provoking touch.

“Jesus August, take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Letting out a guttural growl, August pauses his ministrations and you hear a soft ruffle behind you as he seeks for something in his coat which are thrown next to him on the floor. Peering over your shoulder, you indeed see him holding his phone in his hand.

“Are you really taking pictures again?! Walker, just fuck me already!”

“Take your phone and answer,” he commands, ignoring your demand.

Naturally, they mean nothing to him.

You glare at him puzzled when the soft hum of your phone buzzing cuts into your attention. The pale blue light dances on the wooden floor beneath the wool jacket and you reach a hand for it.

Incoming video call from August.

“August wha….?”

“Answer, so I can fuck you already,” he chides, hovering his phone right above your behind with eyes that sparkle with a dark impulse.

Holding the device in front of you, you accept the call. A shiver ticks at your muscles, your limbs shake at the sight of your dripping cunt as it appears on the bright screen. The sensation is vaguely obscene yet August growls with pure excitement, holding his heavy cock in front of the glassy lense. He lines himself against your wanting entrance, making you see through his eyes how he pushes inside, inch by inch, slowly spreading your petals with the width of his velvet pistol and claiming what belongs to him.

The luscious symphony of your moans unearths melodically into the musty atmosphere as the wet friction of your union strikes madness through your bodies. The oxygen gradually drains from your squeezing lungs, mouth agape at the spectacle of August driving large and long through your narrow crevice with an unusually sluggish pace.

Your memories wander for a split second, falling back to the first time you have discovered porn as a teenager and had the same fury burn between your thighs. Only that you didn’t have August to fill that needy void inside your body.

And damn if he doesn’t fill you just right, plunging into your warm lake of Eden, his girth suffocating between your lush cavern, forcing your walls to expand and make room for his huge, pulsating cock.

“See how tight you are?” August asks breathlessly and gives your ass a sharp smack while he bursts into cold, arrogant laughter, amused at the way your cheeks ripple from the might of his slap. “Look at yourself, so small yet taking me like a needy little slut.”

You swallow a gasp, the device dropping from your sweaty palm and landing flat on the ground. Leaning on your elbows you watch with sick fascination at the way August sinks deeper and deeper, delving through your taut cave until his balls press against your clit with an appeased hum that losses from his lips. Your entire body is attacked by spasms of ecstasy, the heights of your desire brought to unearthly plains as August plays with each of your senses.

“Arch your back,” he demands, razing a hand over your spine to force you to a position which serves him a better path. Obediently, you stick your ass higher, head falling between your shoulder-blades with eyes that never dare to shut, too mesmerized by the forbidden image of him sheathed in your depth.

Enthralled by the vision on the screen, you lean with fist clenched tightly, unable to sustain the pathetic little whimpers. Greedy fingers dig into your hip, leaving a parade of purple bruises for August to later be proud, his possessive legacy. He positions your ass on display, his nimble fingers running over the curve with appreciation, squeezing roughly and groaning. Something inside you clicks, as if playing a role in a film, you stir for him, swaying yourself to the eye of the camera and watching the succulent honeyed flower between your legs as it’s pierced raw by August’s hefty cock. It glistens with filth as it exits your body at an agonizing speed.

“August…. Please,” the moans that roll on your tongue are downright pathetic, making August croon at you patronizingly and tick his tongue as if you’ve been misbehaving. Gripping your waist, he restrains you and pulls himself out until nothing but the arrowhead of his cock rests between your folds, he lingers, breath heavy and firm, chest puffing with power as he sinks all the way in with an alarming change of pace until his balls slap rigid against your wetness.

“Do you like watching yourself, being fucked?” he demands to know, beginning to rails you, snarling at the way you are clenching around his shaft, your silken walls welcome him, calling to his body like a siren drawing a sailor to the abyss. And with vamping passion he complies, finding that hidden spot that no one has ever sought inside you, the one that makes you howl out in ecstasy.

“Yes!!! Fuck!” You cry out with shock, knowing you will definitely not last having to witness every dirty act and details in the vista of your eyes. This is August’s doing, forcing pleasure on you in the vilest way possible, overstimulating both body and mind. He is a man free of boundaries, unchained, but he sure as hell shackles you to the darkness that thrives inside him.

He pushes into you raw and steady, grunting low, as he moves with long-lasting thrusts that serve a point of showing you just how fucked you are. Every now and then he pulls nearly completely out and slams painfully back in, just for the sake of entertainment.

Lewd squelching and blunt sounds of skin slapping against skin take over the acoustic of the room, accompanied by the clattering sound of his belt that dangles from his trousers. His pace turns into punishing rhythm, his testicles brushing briefly with your clit, causing you to haul against him with desperate screams. Begging, a whimpering mess, your muscles give in, shuddering and convulsing until your cunt finally tightens around him firmly and the fire engulfs you from within, spreading through you like a burning field as you climax with astonishment.

“Keep your eyes open,” August rasps, watching how you collapse in front of him, trembling and jolting on your knees meekly with tears blurring your eyes while you sob. He ignores your body’s defiance, grunting like a bull as he jackhammers you, going at an impossible speed.

His cock is but a quick smudge as he rails in yet the swelling of his erection and the thick tendons that runs from the base through his length are undoubtfully clear. You see him and feel his thickness between your convulsing walls, your womb welcoming the hot surge that sprouts inside you while August cries out with divine ecstasy.

He continues to pound inside you even after he comes, letting his thick, white juice coat his length and trickle milky drops from your seam down your inner thigh until he is completely drained.

Panting heavily, he collapses on top of your spine, the stubble of his cheek grazing your supple skin while basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. His mobile device drops from his hand, landing with a soft thud as August fights to catch his breath.

“Enjoyed the show, pet?” He asks, kissing the salty sweat off your skin.

You answer with a deep sigh, too ashamed to admit you just had the most intense orgasm you ever experienced.

Lazy fingers trail up to grasp your neck, squeezing it lightly and kneading the strained muscles. He gathers your hair to one side and leans to nibble at your ear with a devious hum.

“So, are you willing to reconsider making a sex tape now?”

___________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or Mission Impossible.

DM me if you want to be removed or add <3

#August Walker #August Walker x Reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #august walker fanfiction

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havin-a-wee · 3 years

Text

Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.

#HarryOnHoliday #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 5

Returning our view from where the two girls began to rekindle their beautiful friendship to the site of the flag once again, a fierce battle was still raging on.

Just moments earlier, the blue team had been at a numerical disadvantage. But with their allies having received their communications and returned, the battle could now tilt either way…… No, they currently had the momentum to push the enemy back just a little.

“Alright, we’re totally forcing them back here!”

“If we can get through this fight, there’ll only be a handful of them left. We just have to hold out a bit longer.”

The nobles had spotted a chance of victory, and they could even afford to smile now. But as they verified their opponents’ positions from within a thicket, from behind a tree on the opposite side, a mysterious object was lobbed in their direction.

“What’s that?”

One noble had noticed the item sailing towards them — a bulging leather pouch. But its opening wasn’t fully shut, and as the blue team members stood rooted to the ground, the contents of the pouch spilled out onto them from above.

Out the bag poured a vast quantity of dummy bullets.

“H-Huhhhhhhh!?”

Stunned, the men shrieked as the rain of bullets pelted them without mercy. Of course, in the blink of an eye, most of them had been covered with paint.

One of the noblemen touched the paint on his clothes with a finger as he spoke in a daze.

“Is this, really possible?”

It seemed that doubt had surfaced in the others’ minds as well, for those who’d been paint-bombed simply stood where they were, their confusion plain as day. And as they did so, in the distance, a figure watched them from behind a tree.

“Sorry about that. Still, this is a great tactic.”

——As James Bond murmured that, he chuckled.

Needless to say, the one who had delivered that hefty blow on the blue team was Bond. At a spot far removed from the crossfire, he’d quietly made his preparations alone, and lain in wait for the chance to pull off this stunt.

Using bullets in this manner, when they were meant to be shot from a gun, could potentially invite controversy; but Herder had said, “If you get paint on any part of your body, you are out” — and not “if you are struck by a bullet fired from a gun”. In other words, if one adhered to the rules as explained, it could be said that this tactic of raining huge quantities of mock bullets on the enemy was legitimate.

Although they’d been suspicious at first, after a moment, the nobles looked at one another and laughed.

“That was an interesting attack for sure, but now…… what’ll we do? Should we call the referee and seek a decision?”

“Nah, we were completely done in — it’s our loss. Let’s bow out with grace.”

Far from leaving them frustrated, the innovativeness of that idea had felt refreshing; even as they harboured twinges of regret, the men obediently left the battlefield.

The red team members glanced at one another, as if wondering why their opponents were leaving the battlefield: it seemed Bond’s unconventional attack had surprised even his own allies.

Gazing at their puzzled faces with delight, Bond began to head for the apparent location of the opposing team’s flag. There was no rule that a certain person had to capture it, so he wanted to settle things himself if he could. With the blue team’s forces severely depleted, as long as they eliminated the remaining few members, they should be able to steal the flag with ease.

But the instant he saw the path to victory, from the direction of his own allies came a familiar voice.

“O—i, everyone. I’ve taken the flag. The game’s over now.”

That was absolutely impossible. A chill ran down his spine.

The voice announcing their victory—— was his own.

“Huh? We’ve already gotten the flag?”

“That was quicker than I thought.”

Naturally, since they thought the game was over, his allies had let down their guard. Bond shouted to them as fast as he could.

“No! That’s not me!”

But the warning came a second too late. Before his voice could reach them, several gunshots could be heard coming from their direction.

“……They’re done for.”

Bond bit his lower lip as he headed for his allies. There, a group of men stood in a daze, their clothes stained with paint. It seemed they had fallen into a spectacularly executed trap.

The number of players eliminated here was comparable to what Bond himself had taken out earlier. Once again, the balance of the battle had been restored, and his shoulders sank — but then he heard the rustle of leaves from a thicket behind him.

Sensing danger, Bonds dived swiftly into the nearby bushes. That instant, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a certain colleague’s young face.

Bond smiled as he raised his gun.

“You said you weren’t the type to get passionate, but that was a pretty nasty trick you pulled there ——Fred-kun.”

“That’s because I can’t let the team Mr William is on be defeated.”

Fred Porlock responded in a flat voice.

“Bond’s” voice from earlier had been a product of Fred’s mimicry. He’d led his opponents to mistakenly believe that the blue team’s flag had been captured, then took advantage of their lowered guard to inflict a massive blow.

“Hmm, so you’re determined to win too. Speaking of which, you’re rather passionate for someone who’s stone-faced.”

He purposely slung those provocative words over, and from the other side of the thicket, Fred’s retort sailed back.

“Perhaps — but getting too passionate only impedes my work. For me, an ironclad rule is to remain calm at all times.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true. It’s precisely this important work which requires a passion that’s second to none.”

“In that case, shall we prove who’s right?”

Fred’s unusually provoking comment had a somewhat joyful ring to it.

Bond chuckled.

“I knew you were a passionate man.”

With that single line uttered with joy as the catalyst, Bond leaned out of the vegetation and raised his gun. It seemed Fred had the same idea, for both of them were now pointing their revolvers at each other. But this was no time for indecision. Both men pulled the trigger, then took evasive action. The bullets passed through the exact spots they’d been a moment earlier, and they each hid behind a tree at the same time once more.

That thrilling battle lasted only a moment. Then, Bond called out with a childlike innocence.

“Aah, what a shame: I’ve been hit. Look, here’s the paint stain.”

“I’m not getting fooled by that — you completely dodged the shot.”

Fred had instantly seen through his deception. But even after his true intentions had been read like a book, Bond seemed to be enjoying himself, and he made to step out in preparation for his next move.

——Then, as if in response to that action, Fred raised his voice.

“Mr William, we can carry out a pincer attack now.”

“……What?”

That shocking line sent Bond looking around the area in suspicion. Then, as Fred had said, he saw William standing behind him.

“Hey Bond. How’s it going?”

“W— Will-kun!?”

For a split second, Bond panicked. He’d been trying to keep an eye out for William’s movements, but then the man showed himself just when he’d been focusing on Fred — this was the worst possible situation he could’ve found himself in. Bond knew he still had a few teammates left, but could it be that William had wiped them all out without making a sound?

In any case, it was a fact that his most formidable enemy had crept up behind him. Bond switched gears: in a flash, he took aim at William.

But far from defending himself, the man simply shrugged, as if he was troubled.

“Sorry, but — I’ve already been eliminated.”

“Eh?”

Yet another surprising statement. Bond’s thoughts were in disarray as he stopped himself, his gun still trained on William. Then, he felt something thud against his back.

“…………”

With an awkward smile plastered on his face, Bond turned his head, and looked behind him. There, stood Fred with his gun raised. Somehow, it seemed a slightly victorious smile had risen on his face.

He didn’t even need to check his back — he knew he’d been hit. With a magnificent sigh, Bond sat down on his haunches.

“Ah~, you’ve got me. So something like that was possible too……”

Now, he finally understood the plan that William and Fred had concocted. Bond ruffled his hair in regret, and William smiled as he spoke.

“There wasn’t a rule saying that you can’t take a detour as you leave the battlefield.”

William had anticipated the strategy his opponent would employ, then used the fact that he’d been eliminated, purposely passing through the frontline where Bond and the rest were in order to give the impression that he was still in the game. Of course, he made sure to tell the people he encountered that he was already out, so that they could avoid wasting bullets on him.

Even so, for those who knew William’s true power, the effect of his presence was enormous; now, just as William had planned, Bond made the mistake of leaving his back open to Fred.

“I didn’t think you’d also exploit loopholes in the rules.”

“Nonetheless, it’s a tactic bordering on foul play. Though, as long as Herder doesn’t show up, it should be alright.”

“……Will Herder-kun appear when someone breaks the rules?”

It was certainly an entertaining thought, but keeping watch over the movements of every single player must surely be a monumental effort. That said, it was flat out impossible for a single person to cover such a huge area — that was probably just a joke, wasn’t it?

In any case, Herder had yet to reveal himself; whatever the truth about his actions behind the scenes, with Bond — the mainstay of his team’s offence — now eliminated, this battlefront had effectively collapsed. As a result, the red team’s chances of victory were now almost zero.

“Aww, even though I was so fired up; I wanted to play on just a little longer.”

Bond hung his head in regret, and William smiled gently at him.

“It’s a pity indeed. Now it’ll be up to Moran and the rest to turn the game around.”

Analysing the state of the battle from here on, William looked towards the little cabin: the setting of the game’s impending climax.

Scoreboard

🔹 Blue team: Albert, Jack, Fred, William, Kevin, Andy

🔺 Red team: Moran, Bond, Louis, Helena

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows #illustration insert

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 7

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,480

Warnings: none

A/N: This is long overdue, sorry - hopefully it’s worth it. It’s also incredibly long... idek anymore. I want to thank you all for your patience and support. It means a lot to me.

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

You grumbled into your pillow when you heard your phone buzz on the bedside table. Cracking one eye open, you lifted your phone and squinted to read the neon numbers showing on the screen.

7:12 a.m.

You had an email notification, nothing important, but it somehow managed to come through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ feature. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep so you got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

A smile curled up your lips when you saw the leftovers from your made-up holiday. There were a few cookies and muffins in a plate, a large bowl of cereals, and two dirty milkshake glasses on the counter.

It had been a fun and relaxing couple of days. You ate, talked, played board games, and watched movies in your fanciest loungewear attire. Bucky sought your touch more than usual and it left you a little confused. Every time he touched you, the line between feelings of friendship and feelings of love became blurred.

Bucky was an early riser, always up before you, dressed in his usual khakis and long sleeved Henley shirts with his hair slightly tousled. He looked effortlessly sexy and always had a warm smile for you even though you looked like a hot mess in your mismatched pyjamas, staggering into the kitchen, blindly following the smell of food cooking on the stove.

Today, the kitchen was silent. Bucky was probably still asleep, so you decided to cook breakfast. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d catch him in his night clothes.

Wasting no time, you made a beeline for the coffee machine. You filled the water tank and measured fresh grounds into the filter, but your task was interrupted when you heard groans coming from somewhere nearby. You soon figured out that the sounds were coming from the living room.

Curious, you silently made your way toward the sound. The shades were up, and you could see the midnight blue sky fading into pastel hues of yellow and pink with the approaching dawn. Under any other circumstances, you would have been completely enraptured by its beauty, but something else caught your attention.

Bucky was standing upside down with his head on a yoga mat. His eyes were closed and his features were set in an expression of serious concentration. You half hid behind the wall and observed him.

You were impressed, his headstand was perfectly vertical and he was doing it without hand support, meaning that he was supporting his entire weight on his neck. He slowly lowered one toe back down, then the other, before he rested his forearm on the mat and lifted his butt toward the ceiling, his body forming a perfect inverted V.

“You’re up already,” he asked, sitting back on his haunches. “I can hear you breathing behind that wall.”

Busted...

You peeked out into the living room and cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you but that was sooo impressive.” You walked into the room and perched yourself on the arm of the sofa, facing Bucky who was kneeling at your feet. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled, his cheeks red from exertion and bashfulness. “Practice. Yoga’s good for building strength.”

He looked up at you with a boyish smile, his hair damp with perspiration. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, rolling too close to his eyes and making him squint.

His pants left little to the imagination, the fabric stretched across his powerful thighs, and his sleeveless shirt clung to his drenched chest, outlining his muscles. Your eyes darted to his left shoulder where his stump was visible.

Despite living with him for over two months, you had never seen him in one of those sleeveless shirts before, though you couldn’t blame him since it was the middle of winter and you hadn’t been wearing any either. It was warm inside the apartment but not enough to walk around bare-armed.

“It’s easier to do yoga when the sleeve isn’t slapping me in the face every five seconds,” Bucky said, looking at his stump. “But I can cover it up if you prefer.”

“No! Of course not,” you rushed to say. “I’m sorry. That was really rude.”

“You were just looking, it’s only natural,” he said. “People are curious. Staring... well, staring is different.” His frown smoothed away and he turned to you with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

You smiled down at him. “Starving.”

“I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, then I’ll start breakfast.”

“Actually, I was about to start cooking before I got distracted.” Bucky looked away, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “But I think we have plenty of food left over from last night.”

“We’re not eating cookies for breakfast,” he said. “We’ll save them for later. Right now we need something healthy.” He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet and ran upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You shook your head at his antics and returned to the kitchen to finish making coffee. After all he’d done for you, it was the least you could do. You knew Bucky liked cooking –and he was damn good at it- but sometimes you wondered if this was a fair arrangement.

He had given you a place to stay, money, food to eat, your own artist’s studio, and you had given him... nothing. Admittedly, you knew that your presence calmed him, comforted him. You gave him the emotional support he desperately needed and it was important, but he could also have adopted a pet.

Too tired for coffee or tea, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, hoping it would wake you up. It worked but your self-deprecating thoughts were still playing havoc in your mind.

You were fixing Bucky’s coffee when he came back downstairs after his shower, and you were pleasantly surprised to find him wearing a clean sleeveless shirt. You met his eyes and found that he was watching you intently. You offered him a smile and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Looking good, James.”

He looked down at his feet with a bashful smile as he crossed the room slowly. You observed him in silence while he prepared breakfast for the two of you. It was a simple breakfast bowl with yogurt, granola, fresh fruits and honey but he somehow made it look like a gourmet dish.

“There you go, angel,” he said, setting your bowl in front of you. “What are you going to do today?”

You took a slice of kiwi and dipped in yogurt. “I think I’m going to paint. You?”

Bucky licked his spoon and you stared at it longingly before you quickly averted your eyes. No, you couldn’t be jealous of a goddamn spoon. Catch yourself on.

“I have an idea for a new book,” he said, running his tongue along his teeth to clean them before he spoke again. “I had a meeting with my agent last week. It went well, my old publisher really wants to work with me again. I’m signing my contract this afternoon.”

“Bucky!” you squealed after swallowing your mouthful of yogurt a little too fast. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you,” he said, staring into nothing with wide eyes. “I’m nervous, scared and excited at the same time. It’s strange, y’know, all these feelings mixed together. It’s a bit overwhelming and I haven’t even started yet.”

“Don’t think too much,” you said. “You’ve done this before, you can do it again.”

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling.

You scraped your spoon around the bowl and licked it clean. “What’s it about? Is it a novel? Can I be in it?”

Bucky chuckled to himself and you figured that every single writer had friends who begged them to appear in their books. You couldn’t help it, the idea of living forever as ink on a page was too tempting.

“It’s not a novel,” he said. “It’s the third instalment of my series. The style is a little hard to explain but this is what I like to say: self-help book meets Bridget Jones’ Diary.”

“I tried to look you up but I couldn’t find anything written by a James Barnes or a Bucky Barnes.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you a fraud? Or are you using a pen name?”

He pretended to think about it. “I’m a fraud.”

“I knew it,” you mock-sighed.

Bucky took your bowl and placed it in the sink along with his. When he started cleaning them, you joined him and took a dish towel.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he spoke after a moment.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

You knew he wasn’t going to tell you what his pen name was, not now at least. His books were a reflection of his struggles, his success, and his fears, and you could understand why he preferred to keep you in the dark for now.

The people who read his books didn’t know him, they were just anonymous faces in a crowd but you were real. You were his friend, his new friend, and your opinion mattered.

“It’s been a couple of years since I’ve published my last book. My agent said that people haven’t forgotten about me but I still have to,” he made air quotes with his fingers, “’show my face’, just to remind everyone that I’m still writing.” He sighed.

“There’s a charity event next month at the museum of Natural History,” he continued. “It’s a huge event, a lot of important people will be there, including some of the most famous gallerists and curators in the country. You’re allowed to say no but,” he paused and turned to look at you, “do you want to come with me?”

You pressed your lips together while you mulled this over. There was no doubt in your mind that it was a great opportunity, one that you would have never had without Bucky, and you knew you had to say yes. But this was your least favourite part of being an artist.

You didn’t know how to sell yourself and you always felt like an arrogant asshat when you spoke about your paintings, even though you had every right to be proud of your work.

You had managed to persuade yourself that this new life would last forever. Eat, laugh, paint, repeat forever. But it wasn’t real. You had to put yourself out there, even if it made you uncomfortable because painting was only half your job.

Something else bothered you. You didn’t want to be the poor, struggling artist who took advantage of a charity event to make herself known. It seemed wrong and hypocritical.

You voiced your concerns to Bucky who looked at you with a pained expression.

“Yes, it’s a fundraiser but I can assure you that everyone at the party will be talking business and exchanging business cards,” he said. “And they’ll compensate with a huge donation to clear their guilty conscience. Is it false philanthropy? Absolutely, and I’m ashamed to say I’m one of them. You’re not taking advantage of a good cause, we are.”

“You’re nothing like them,” you said. “You’re kind and selfless, you’re a good person.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, angel,” he said with a tight smile.

When you opened your mouth to protest, he leaned forward and cupped the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, ending the conversation. He had never done that before and you froze, feeling equal parts confused, incredulous and appreciated.

He pulled back and wiped down the sink with the sponge, acting like kissing you so sweetly was something completely normal, like he was unbothered. Meanwhile you just stood there wondering if you would ever be able to breathe normally again.

You pressed your lips together hard and tried to gather your thoughts but your mind was reeling. You were about to leave the room when your eyes landed on a pile of mail on the kitchen counter.

The first letter was a cheesy view of the Tower Bridge, the words ‘Greetings from London’ written in bold cursive letters across the postcard.

You only knew one person who still sent postcards.

Wanda.

“What’s this?” you asked, nodding toward the stack of mail.

Confused, Bucky looked to you then followed your line of sight and saw the mail. “Oh, Natasha dropped these off last night. She wanted to see you but you were already asleep.”

You nodded distractedly while you picked up the postcard. The sight of it filled you with anxiety. Your sister didn’t’ send these postcards often, but every time you received one it reminded you that things were different now. Gone was the happy and supportive family you used to cherish.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read Wanda’s hastily written words.

I’m coming home.

She was coming home. A wave of nausea ran through you and your breathing came shallow and fast.

“Wow, wow, wow.” You felt Bucky’s hand at our waist, steering you toward a chair, and you realized your legs were giving way under you. “Deep breaths, angel. Look at me. There you go!”

“Sorry,” you said. “See what happens when you don’t let me eat cookies for breakfast?”

Bucky smiled at your poor attempt at humour. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You debated telling him but you weren’t sure how to voice your concerns so you handed him the postcard instead. You had told Bucky about Wanda. She had disappeared after Pietro’s death, sending postcards from time to time as proof that she was still alive and well.

“Your sister is coming home.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I haven’t seen her for six years. She doesn’t know our mom has Alzheimer, she doesn’t know I sold our old childhood home. She keeps sending those postcards there. I gave the new owners Natasha’s address in case they still receive our mail. They’re very nice.” You let out a humourless laugh. “I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I sold our house, and they could have taken advantage of me but they didn’t. I guess it’s not every day you buy a family house from a 24 year old girl. It probably screams tragic backstory, uh?”

“You did this on your own?”

“Yup.”

Bucky put his hand on your knee and gave you a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

You looked down at his thumb rubbing soothing circles just above your knee. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy.” You paused, then raised your head to look at him. “Living with you makes my life so much easier. I live in my own little bubble where I don’t have to be an adult. I feel like I can finally breathe. And I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me and all you continue to do.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head. “We help each other. We’re good together.”

“Yes, of course,” you said with a smile. “But we both know it’ll have to end one day. It has to, one way or another. I want to be more independent, start my career and support my family. I don’t want to rely on others anymore. I want to rely on myself.”

“But there’s no rush, angel.”

“I know, but nothing’s gonna change if I stay in my little bubble. I have to do things that make me uncomfortable.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’ll come with you to the fundraiser.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but a smile broke across his face. “That’s great! But what about your sister?”

You shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. She’ll probably go to our old house, realize it’s not ours anymore. If she’s lucky they’ll give her Natasha’s address. I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions but she can’t show up six years later and act like our bond is still intact. I’m not at her beck and call. I’m only responsible for myself and, Bucky, I’m so tired of trying to please everyone. I deserve to live my best life, goddammit.”

“I am so happy to hear you say that,” Bucky said, his smile blinding. “Celebratory cookie?”

“Yes! Two cookies, please,” you replied, out of breath. “I’m slightly freaking out.”

You spent the next couple of weeks planning for the event; painting, taking pictures of your work, posting them on Instagram, searching for gallerists and curators you wanted to work with and cross-checking the attendees.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but wonder if Wanda was already in New York and if she was looking for you.

“Check this out!” you exclaimed, shoving a business card in Natasha’s face before you pushed past her to get into her apartment. “It’s official, I’m an artist.”

She laughed as she closed the door, her eyes on the card. “Hi, it’s nice to see you, too,” she deadpanned.

“Sorry, hi.”

“Well, looks like you’re all set. When’s the party?”

“Next week,” you replied, taking a seat on you former bed, her sofa. “I’m a little nervous, but also excited. I don’t know, it’s a strange feeling.”

Natasha pinned your business card onto the fridge using a magnet before she opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a bottle of orange juice. She took two glasses from the cupboard and joined you on the sofa.

“But, yeah, I’m ready. I have over two hundred business cards, I know who I want to work with, and I even bought an external battery pack just in case.”

“And what are you going to wear?” Natasha asked before taking a sip of orange juice. You looked at her with wide eyes, panic written all over your face. “You forgot to buy a dress,” she concluded out loud. “Why am I not surprised?”

“With everything going on, I completely forgot I had to... wear clothes.”

“I’m sure James wouldn’t mind seeing you in your birthday suit.” She laughed when you practically shoved her off the sofa. “Come on, I’ll help you look semi-decent.”

You groaned. “I don’t want to go shopping right now. Plus, I blew all my money on business cards.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s freezing outside, I’m not leaving my apartment,” she replied, reaching for her laptop. “You’re going to rent it.”

“Ew,” you made a face.

You remembered the formal wear store where you had rented your prom dress. The place smelled like moth balls and sweat, and the dress had given you a rash. Not a great memory.

“Trust me, I know this is your first but I’m a seasoned veteran. I’ve been to dozens of fundraisers, and I had to wear dozens of designer dresses. Do you even know how much a Saint Laurent evening gown cost? You can’t wear the same dress twice. That’s a big no-no. And it’s not just the dress. You need a clutch, a pair of shoes, jewelry, a coat. You have to rent them.”

“You’re giving me a headache.”

She opened up her web browser and typed in the website address for the dress rental. As she entered your size and budget, it was obvious that she knew her way around the website and you had to admit that it was a lot easier than traditional shopping.

You looked at the collection of dresses, not entirely convinced, when you found it. You instantly knew it was the right one.

You stared longingly at the beautiful wine-red dress, made entirely of velvet. The bodice was cut on the bias, the fabric draping itself elegantly to contour the shape of the model’s upper body. The skirt was long and flowing, and the waist was cinched in with a thin black belt.

You clicked on the second picture and Natasha let out a strangled gasp. The open back was draped at the waist and weighted with a crystal on a golden chain.

The dress gave off 1930s vibes, it was elegant and refined but the back was daring and sexy. It was exactly what you needed. You paired it with a black wool cape, and Natasha offered to let you borrow a pair of shoes, jewellery and a bag.

The dress and coat arrived the next day. The woman who delivered them was kind and polite, she stayed in the kitchen while you tried on the dress. Once you gave the all-clear, she handed you your receipt.

The dress was yours for an entire week.

On the day of the gala, you were a nervous, sweaty mess. Natasha’s clutch was on your nightstand, filled to the brim with business cards. Your hair and makeup were already done. You sat on your bed in your underwear, staring at the dress hanging in your closet.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

You were adjusting the fabric around your cleavage, making sure everything flowed nicely, when you heard Bucky shouting from the kitchen.

“The car will be there in fifteen minutes.”

You took a deep breath and smoothed your hands down the sides of your dress, the tickling caress of the velvet calming you almost instantly. You reached for the handle, your heart hammering in your chest, and opened the door.

Bucky was standing at the kitchen island, looking down at his phone. He looked up when he heard the sound of your door opening.

“Hey, are you-” The rest of his sentence died on his lips as he froze. He stood there, staring at you, his eyes roaming your body in a manner that could only be called amazement. “You look-” He shook his head as if he couldn’t find the right word.

You looked down at yourself, grinning. After weeks of seeing you in your big woolly jumpers, pyjamas and painting overalls, you could understand why this was a shock. It was one to you as well.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

“Thank you.” He stood a little straighter when he noticed you were checking him out. He wore a dark blue suit with black lapels, a white shirt and a black velvet bow tie. You matched. “You look like a real heartthrob in that suit.”

He laughed and looked away, embarrassed. It was your favourite look on him; when he couldn’t maintain eye contact and his cheeks were slightly red and his nose crunched up a little.

“You’re wearing your prosthetic,” you said, noticing the stiff arm and fake hand.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking at his left arm. “This thing itches like hell, but I don’t blend well in a crowd when I’m not wearing my prosthetic. These people know me, they’ll be looking for me. Let’s not make it too easy for them.”

He finished his sentence with a wink and your entire body threatened to spontaneously combust. Do people still wink? Apparently. You walked over to him and briefly stroked his arm before you walked past him to the bathroom.

It gave him a great view of your bare back and the little crystal nestled just above the small of your back. You didn’t see his reaction but you heard his sharp intake of breath.

You left the bathroom door open while you rummaged through your makeup bag, relief flowing through you when your fingers brushed against your favourite lipstick.

You straightened up and looked at yourself in the mirror. Bucky was leaning against the bathroom door frame, observing you. You uncapped the lipstick and brought it to your lips, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost ready.”

“I’m not worried,” Bucky replied with a mischievous smile. “Please, carry on.”

You rolled your eyes at his sudden smug expression, trying to look unbothered, but you could feel his eyes on you and you willed your hands to stop shaking. Today was not the day to look like Miranda Sings.

“What’s it called?” Bucky asked from the threshold, spellbound.

“No idea, the label has faded,” you said, rubbing your lips together to smudge your lipstick. “It has probably expired by now, my mom gave it to me when I was a kid.” You blotted your lips and tossed the balled tissue into the wastebasket. “She called it ‘Carter Red’.”

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips. “When we were kids, we used to watch her apply her lipstick. We thought she was the most sophisticated woman in the world. When she was done, she’d turn to us and ask ‘Who wants red lips?’ Then we’d leave the house in our matching red lips.”

Bucky entered the bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the tub. “Did your brothers wear red lipstick too?” he asked with a grin.

You laughed. “Pietro did. Scott was more into nail polish.”

“Do you think I can pull it off?”

You turned to him with a wicked grin and waved your lipstick in his direction. He stood when you took a step closer to him. He seemed to enjoy the playful glint dancing in your eyes. You beckoned him closer like some kind of old witch.

“I’m sure you’d look real cute with lipstick all over your face,” you said, taunting him with your tube of lipstick.

Something in his expression changed, darkened, making you feel hot and cold at the same time. His eyes travelled down your face to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” he spoke so softly you almost missed it.

It was your turn to freeze. You parted your lips to speak but nothing came out, you just blinked hard and stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain what that meant. But he never did, and you took a step back.

Did he just...? Did he just try to kiss you? No! No, that’s silly. Why would he want to kiss you? He was just being playful and you simply projected your own desires onto him.

He took a step back too and gave an imperceptible nod. “The car should be here any minute,” he said, smiling. It was a tight smile and you didn’t like it at all. “I’ll let you get ready.”

After he closed the door behind him, you dumped your lipstick back into your makeup bag and took a long look at yourself in the mirror. You looked deflated, miserable. You sighed... the night was off to a great start.

Bucky waited for you while you finished getting ready. You picked up your clutch, slid your feet into a pair of high-heel shoes, and struggled with your cape until Bucky came to your rescue. To your surprise, his smile was genuine again, and it made your heart soar. Maybe you had just misread the situation and he wasn’t upset, offended –or whatever that tight smile was.

The heels were higher than you were used to, but Bucky gave you an arm to hang onto. The sky was already dark when you arrived at the Museum of Natural History. You walked up the stairs and left your coats in the coat-check room before you took a look around the room.

Hundreds of people were milling around the hall, a glass in their hand as they weaved between the jaw-dropping dinosaur skeletons that were on display. You kept your arm linked through Bucky’s and tried not to stare at anyone.

“Be careful,” Bucky whispered in your ear, making you perk up. “Someone once told me that the exhibits come to life after the sun sets.”

“Remind me to stay away from the Biodiversity Hall,” you chuckled. Then you spotted one of the curators you wanted to work with, you let go of Bucky’s arm and squared your shoulders. “Showtime. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, angel.”

“God, I’m sweating. Is it noticeable?”

Bucky smiled at you. “No, you look perfect.”

You gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I hope I won’t make a fool of myself. I hate small talk.”

As soon as you were gone, someone took your place by Bucky’s side. You grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and made your way over to the curator. You didn’t drink alcohol but the glass made you look like you were part of their little group.

It went horribly wrong; you stuttered when you said your name and everything went downhill after that. While you were talking, he subtly looked around to see if he could find a more interesting person to talk to, which made you stutter even more. Then as you opened your clutch and fished out a card, several others fell at your feet in slow motion.

Between the dress, the glass and the shoes, it was practically impossible to bend over. The curator left and you stood there alone.

“Let me help you,” one of the waiters said. He gathered up your business cards and handed them to you.

You sheepishly took the cards and shoved them back in your purse. “Thanks. Can you take this? I’m not going to drink it.”

“Would you like something else to drink?” he asked as he took your glass of champagne.

“No, thank you. I... I think I’m going to go find my friend.”

You smiled politely at the young man but he had a strange look on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“I saw you with Mr. Thomas,” he finally said. “I’m not supposed to talk to the guests but can you tell him I love his work.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Grant Thomas,” the waiter pressed on. “The writer. I saw you two together.” Then he leaned forward and whispered, ��He only has one arm.”

Oh...

Grant Thomas was Bucky’s pen name.

Your face broke out into a huge smile and you started giggling to yourself. The waiter recoiled a bit, confused and a little freaked out. You scanned the room for Bucky.

“Of course, I’ll tell him,” you told the waiter. “He’ll be very pleased to hear it.”

You went in search of Bucky, wobbling around in your high heels, a permanent smile on your face. After walking around for a few minutes, you felt more stable and in control, even going so far as to power walk from room to room.

You found him in the Hall of Ocean Life, entertaining a small group of people. You walked over to him, your heels clicking like typewriter keys. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation as you approached.

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely,” a woman cooed, a hand over her heart. “Who was your inspiration for your new book, Grant?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly when he saw you. You gave him a small wave and he held out his hand in your direction. He introduced you to the group, and while it was strange to hear him say your name, you kept a straight face.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you, Grant,” you told him, emphasizing his pen name. “I should have known I'd find you in good company.”

“Oh, she’s the painter,” the woman said. “Darling, I hope you don’t mind me saying this but-” she extended her arms in your direction “wow!”

The woman next to her looked half amused, half exasperated. “It means you look beautiful in that dress.”

“Oh, she knows what it means, Sylvia.” The ‘oh’ woman swatted Bucky’s fake arm. “Grant, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Bucky looked at you with a fond smile. “Yes, she is.”

“Oh, my heart is about to explode,” the ‘oh’ woman squealed before enthusiastically waving to someone behind Bucky. “Sylvia, darling, take her contact details. We need new blood at the gallery. Please, excuse me, I haven’t seen Michael in ages,” she said, stretching out the last word.

She was gone before you could comprehend what was happening. Her laughter echoed through the room. Oh, I hadn’t seen the back of that dress! Sweet baby Jesus!

You found her whimsical and quite intense but if you had to work for her, you’d probably end up looking like her assistant, Sylvia, who seemed at her wits’ end.

She sighed and opened her leather-bound notebook. There were several business cards attached to the pages with paperclips. You handed her one of your business cards as her boss shouted, Oh, Michael, isn’t this party deliiightful? It was Sylvia’s cue to leave.

“Thank you. We’ll take a look at your work and get back to you as soon as we can. Enjoy your night.”

Sylvia rushed to her boss who was looking around like a lost puppy. When she saw her assistant, a look of relief crossed her face. It was a little over the top but it made you smile.

“So, Grant Thomas,” you said, planting yourself directly in front of Bucky now that you were alone. “Cute name.”

“Agh, I wanted to tell you before the party but...” He shrugged. “How did you figure it out?”

“One of the waiters saw us together. He’s your biggest fan. Said you were talented, humble and devilishly handsome in that suit.”

“The waiter said that?” Bucky asked with a frown as he led you toward an empty corridor.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

“I seem to have that effect on people,” he said, linking his arm through yours.

“So humble.” You entered the Hall of Biodiversity together. “What’s the meaning behind your pen name?”

There was a small pause before he answered. “Grant is Steve’s middle name, Thomas is Sam’s. I wanted to honor them. Steve literally saved my life, and Sam... well, he stood by my side even when we barely knew each other.”

“I’m sure they were touched.”

“Meh,” Bucky said with a grimace. “Steve said it sounded like a fake name, and Sam tried to make me use ‘Thomas Grant’ instead. I think deep down they like it.” He turned his head to look at you. “How did it go with the curator?”

You cringed. “Just to give you an idea, imagine an amateur magician performing at their first show. I was sweating, I stuttered, and I dropped my cards. It was awful.”

He laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. At least he’ll remember me, right?”

You spent the next couple of hours mingling with a bunch of rich people; most of them were incredibly weird, the others were strangely relatable. You were a lot more cool and collected with Bucky by your side. He always had really nice things to say about you or your paintings, and his words rang true, giving you yet another reason to fall for him.

When you reached the planetarium, Bucky took your hand in his, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.

You practically had the place to yourselves, everyone else was either in the Grand Gallery or in the Roosevelt Memorial. Since no one was around, you decided to take your shoes off and walk around barefoot.

You lost track of time, listening to Bucky’s stories about the universe as he guided you along the spiralling walkway.

“We’re just tiny little specks living on a bigger speck, floating around,” he said, gazing up at a model of Jupiter hanging from the ceiling. “Our time here is so limited, our bodies are so fragile.”

“Umm,” you hummed. “At least we’re not at the bottom of the food chain.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a bummer.”

“Do you know who’s at the bottom of the food chain?” you asked. “French fries. I’m starving.”

His laughter rang out, loud and clear, in the silence of the planetarium. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You headed for the coat-check room, where Bucky left one of his ridiculously generous tips, and stepped outside, shivering from the cold winter night. You looked up at the stars glistening in the dark sky while you walked the short distance to the fast food restaurant.

You ate your fries in silence as you glanced around the restaurant. It was bright and gave off a friendly vibe. There were several other patrons even though it was almost two in the morning, though you and Bucky were the only ones wearing designer clothes.

Your high heels and clutch rested on the booth next to your hip, and Bucky’s bow tie was tied around your wrist. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a tanned, muscular chest and a smattering of dark hair.

Bucky had removed his prosthetic after you’d found a booth. His fake arm rested on the table, scaring the hell out of the waitress when she came to take your order. Bucky apologized profusely, probably mentally adding another twenty to her tip.

You dozed off in the cab, utterly exhausted, your cheek resting against his shoulder. His arm was draped over your shoulders, his thumb sweeping up and down your collarbone. When you remembered that you still had to remove your makeup before going to bed, you let out a whine and nestled closer to him. He rested his head on top of yours, and you closed your eyes, enjoying his closeness.

A few days later, you told Natasha about the party, and she reminded you to be careful, to protect your heart. She wished someone had given her this advice when she’d met Sam.

It had never occurred to you that Natasha might have feelings for Sam, not because he was an awful person. No, it was quite the opposite. He was handsome and funny, always looking for some kind of trouble. She’d mentioned multiple times that he was really good in bed, which honestly didn’t surprise you.

You knew she liked him, but you didn’t know she liked him.

On your way home, you mulled over the things she had told you. About a block away from your apartment, you took your keys out of your pocket and stared at the little angel keychain, wondering if your feelings for Bucky were real. The line between friends and lovers was definitely blurred but you couldn’t cross it. There was too much at stake, you couldn’t risk ruining your friendship.

As you turned the corner into your street, you spotted someone standing outside the building’s front door. You slowed down, dawdled, so you could observe them.

You couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, though you suspected a man. They were carrying a traveller’s backpack on their shoulders, blocking your view. Whoever it was, they had a fantastic ass.

They pushed the intercom button, waited a few seconds and pushed it again. When the doors remained closed, they turned around to leave and you came face-to-face with a man with long dirty blond hair, a bushy ginger beard and striking baby blue eyes. You immediately recognized him from the photos you’d seen on Bucky’s laptop.

“Oh my God, Steve!” you exclaimed, startling him.

Part 8

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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exosmutfactory · 3 years

Text

Six Phases 006 Pt 6

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: I couldn't find a picture to match Baekhyun's appearance—so I chose one that fits his mood instead 2.0 😅 ♡

[ contains: angst ] Two’s a couple, Three’s a crowd 💔

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1) P(2) | Part 6 P(1) P(2) —– P(3) P(4) —– P(5) P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1) P(2)

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

My heels click rhythmically on the sidewalk, in perfect sync with the song I’m humming. I’ve taken a liking to listening to new music lately instead of sticking to the same old artists that I’ve heard a thousand times. Trying to expand my horizons and replace sob-inducing ballads with uplifting trap beats.

It’s going okay so far: moving on. Learning how to navigate the world while riding solo. It’s not like I haven’t done it before—sleepless nights aren’t new. Lack of appetite isn’t either. A breakup will never be the end of the world, no matter how excruciating it is. So why should I let it hold me back and define me?

Birds chirp merrily in the trees, bringing a smile to my face, especially when I catch sight of a little hummingbird enjoying nectar from a patch of flowers. If there’s one thing I can say that has helped me during this time, it’s nature. Simply looking out at the world from my apartment window and taking long walks around the more remote parts of this city have calmed my soul more than I can express with words.

I’m watching the squirrels scurry around on the other side of the street while waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sigh, so much for a moment of tranquility.

I pull my phone out of my tiny jean pocket, furrowing my brows at the caller ID. Jongin…? That’s strange, has he ever called me before? I rack my brain for answers. Nope, this is the first time he is calling me. Flashbacks of our distant friendship since that one summer fight I had with a certain someone flashes through my mind... I press my phone to my ear before I can overthink it any longer. "Hello?"

"Riley." Jongin’s smooth voice filters over the line.

"Hi," I mumble, continuing down the street, noticing a beautiful blue and green butterfly flying by with a smile. The pitter patter of a water fountain in the distance has me falling back into my 'Zen’ mode. "What’s up? How are you?"

"I need a favor." He drops; straight to the point. Sending me right into a panic.

My phone nearly falls to the ground. "...You didn’t break a leg or something-"

"No, no," He immediately responds, recognizing the high pitch of hysteria in my voice. "It’s nothing bad."

Thank fuck, the last thing I need right now is bad news. It may be the end of March, but I’m not really feeling this 'Spring’ season. My mood shifts faster than the strong wind. The only stress I try to have nowadays are always work related because if I stop and think about my personal life for a moment I am fucked.

I take a deep breath, leaning my back against a light pole before replying to him. "Okay."

"There’s a dance competition in June," He slowly explains, "and I need a partner."

"Oh..." I blink a few times, straightening back up. "Huh… I’m sorry, I’m not really good at choosing candidates. I’m not a professional-"

"I mean you." He interjects, background music drifting over the line. "I want you to be my partner."

I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment, looking at it in disbelief, "I'm sorry—What?"

"I have a routine already," His voice takes on a warmer tone, pure persuasion dripping from his honeyed words. "With your name all over it."

"...Eh??" I look off to the side, trying in vain to find something—anything to distract me from the tingles zapping down my spine at the sound of his voice. God… what the fuck? "Don’t you have like a million other people who specialize in-"

"I made the choreography for you."

My heart hammers in my chest. "And why the heck would you do that?" I demand, tightening my grip on the phone. Something out of the corner of my eye suddenly captures my attention, dragging my eyes over to it instantly. The sight that greets me has my throat going dry, gulping as my hands shake.

It’s Baekhyun—and he isn’t alone.

He’s accompanied by a tall, beautiful woman, the same height as him in her flat sandals. Her black hair reaches the middle of her back, contrasting against her light blue overalls and swaying softly in the cool wind. They lean against a brick wall next to a cute coffee shop with matching coffee cups in their hands.

Jongin’s words fade into background noise while I watch them. My vision blurs when she laughs, resting her hand on his arm. The way she easily initiates physical contact with him speaks volumes; this isn’t their first meeting. It’s been 2 months since January, and yet...

My heart constricts painfully in my chest, I suck in a deep breath. Lightheadedness hits me full force, I quickly cling onto the pole when my body sways off balance. Shit… I must have been holding my breath.

"Riley?" Jongin’s muffled voice drifts from my distant phone. Thankfully it fell onto the parking meteor next to me and not on the ground. "Riley!"

Burning a hole into the back of Baekhyun’s silver-haired head, I bring the phone back to my ear. "I’ll do it," I mumble lowly.

"I’m sorry?"

Staring at Baekhyun and his new friend, I make my decision. "I’ll be your partner."

•••

Okay… Maybe I was too hasty in agreeing to this whole dance competition thing. I should have waited to make a decision when I was in a better state of mind.

It’s been a good four weeks since I agreed to be Jongin’s partner—four weeks of pure hell.

If I had known what kind of dance moves were incorporated in this routine I never ever would have agreed. The choreography appears simple and subtle enough on the surface, especially thanks to Jongin’s gifted skills, but that’s the problem. It’s not simple; it’s a fucking ankle breaker. It’s pure well-organized insanity and I don’t know how much more of it that I can take.

"From the top," Jongin’s voice echoes in the dance studio. He presses a remote to start the song over again. I try to stay focused, ignoring the looming figures of the other hostile dancers in the room. Why they all gathered here to watch us practice today, I have no idea, but it isn’t helping me at all.

The bass booming from the stereo speakers vibrates the wood under my feet. Sweat permeates the air. Their predator-like stares break me down from the inside out. The memory of Baekhyun with that woman pops into my mind...

"5, 6, 7-"

Shit!

Gasps echo around the room when it happens: I collapse onto the floor, clutching onto my throbbing ankle.

"Riley?!" Something about the alarm in Jongin’s voice makes me wince, curling in on myself as everyone’s whispers float into the air.

"Oh my god, is she serious...?"

"See what I mean! She has two left feet. Why is he wasting his time on her?"

"Dumbass can’t even do a single number, let alone a simple choreography. The way he chose that over me…"

I try my best to reel in my emotions, to keep the hurt from being seen on my face, but there’s only so much I can bear—there’s only so much I can take.

Tears pelt down my face while their loud gasps and delighted giggles fill the air. I make a move to climb to my feet, ready to bolt out of here and never step foot in this place again when a gentle hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Riley." It’s Jongin, crouching down to meet my eye. "Are you okay?"

I can only shake my head, losing my breath as their taunting voices swirl around my head like a whirlpool, consuming me whole.

"Riley, stay with me." Jongin rests both his hands on my shoulders, directing my eyes to his whenever I look away. "Talk to me. What’s wrong?"

"I-I," I choke, covering my face in my hands before I sob pathetically on the hardwood floor. The throbbing of my backside and ankle only makes it worse.

"Ri-"

"Look at her! Pathetic at it’s finest."

Jongin stiffens, I don’t even need to see him to know that he’s gone rigid. His hand slips off my shoulder as I watch his silhouette rise from the spaces between my fingers, standing to his full height.

"Mind sharing with the class what you just said, Kim Nora?" He looks at the woman in the middle of the 5 dancers leaning against the far wall, his jaw clenching.

"I-"

"If you have something to say, say it."

"I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for years. Years, Jongin!" She snaps, her shrill voice bouncing off of the walls. "I’m on time for every rehearsal. I practice until I bleed. Why does this no-name slut get to come in here and take it from me when she can’t even stand on her own two feet?!"

"Kim Nora." The way he says her name has everyone on edge. My back prickles in fear and secondhand embarrassment. He’s not even directing that stone cold tone at me and I’m hella uncomfortable sitting here.

"Who’s dance studio is this, Nora?"

"Yours-" She looks away, not brave enough to meet his eyes anymore. "-M-Mr. Kim..."

Jongin hums, holding his hands behind his back while pacing up and down the floor. "Who’s name is on the sign out front, everyone?"

"Yours, Mr. Kim." They chime in sync with meek voices. A look of regret painted on every single one of their faces.

"Mine." He concludes, satisfied before turning his dark eyes back onto Nora. "Let me explain something to you, Nora."

Her eyes stay focused on the floor.

"This is my practice, my building." He stops pacing, stretching his arms out to showcase the room. "You are under my roof." He looks dead at her, eyes colder than ice. "You are here because I let you. Do you understand that?"

"Y-yes, sir, but I-"

"Next time," He cuts her off, "You decide to be immature. Next time, you decide that your knowledge is anything close to my expertise." He steps closer, and I’ve never seen a person standing 3 feet away have such an impact on an individual. "Next time, you decide to mock one of my friends." He lowers his voice, and I can feel the heavy promise coming off him in waves. "You are gone. Do you understand me?"

Nora babbles something unintelligible, tears brimming her eyeliner caked eyes.

"Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes!" She sucks in a breath, snot clogging her nose as she directs her eyes back to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He steps away, turning on his heel before rushing back over to me. "Riley," His voice is softer now, much like the Jongin who helped rescue me from my birthday party 2 years ago.

"Hey..." I hush, lowering my hands to my lap.

"Are you okay?" He hands me a clean towel, his brows furrowed in worry. "How’s your ankle?"

"I-It’s fine."

He raises a brow, reaching out a hand to me. "May I?"

"Yeah." I sigh, noticing the familiar look of concern on his face.

Jongin takes my ankle into his hands, handling it carefully and pressing a few places. "Does it hurt?" His frown deepens when I wince. "And here?"

"Yeah," I nod, my face pinched up in pain.

"From 1 to 10," He continues, looking me dead in the eyes, "How much pain are you in?"

My lips part to answer, but I pause, biting the bullet and wiggling my ankle around to see how bad it actually is. "F-four out of ten." I grit out, still so sensitive that tears sting my eyes again.

"It’s sprained." He concludes, gently lowering it back to the floor.

"W-what does that mean?" I ask fearfully. Whatever it means, it doesn’t sound good with the contest 6 weeks away. Shit, why am I such a fuck up? What if I can’t perform let alone learn the choreography in time? I’m such a failure, I-

"It’s not bad," He reassures, resting a comforting hand on my arm. "A few days off of it and you should be good as new."

"R-really?"

Jongin nods, smiling softly. "Nothing a few days off can’t fix."

"Oh, thank you," I whisper in relief, wrapping my arms around his neck to mask the tears that escape my eyes. "Thank you, thank you."

"No," Jongin shakes his head, hugging me warmly, whispering just as quietly in my ear. "Thank you."

•••

After that day, none of the dancers have bothered me, let alone showed up to any more dance practices. Jongin made sure of that. No one fucked around with him either after the way he resolved the issue. An angry Jongin is a scary Jongin; that much I know now.

Sighing softly, I look up at the fluffy clouds overhead, trying to salvage the calm that washes over me in wake of April’s flourishing weather. The flowers are more alive than ever. Small animals and other critters run around for food on the ground. The world around me is the picture-perfect example of nature at its finest—so why is there an uneasy feeling weighing on my chest?

Work is going well and the book we had spent months and months preparing was released last week. I’m on my way to the nearest bookstore to grab a copy for myself. To check that no grammar related errors got past my keen eyes or because I genuinely enjoy the novel, who knows. I want to see the final product for myself and check out other releases. It’s about time I pick up another book besides the one I stayed up countless nights making sure everything was finalized.

A cute bell chimes when I step through the door, hit with the aroma of fresh coffee. Every time I go to a bookstore or library, it’s like I am stepping into another world. The shelves filled to the brim with hundreds, maybe thousands of literature, all at the touch of your fingertips.

From ebooks to the dusty classics, I love them all. I may not read everything; I might be one of the pickiest readers out there, but I appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears that go into every completed book. Good or bad, the author has big balls for trying and putting their name out there. I have mad respect for that.

Venturing further into the shop, my eyes catch the Fantasy section with ease. I make my way over, already seeing a colorful display set out for the newest releases. The sight of the book I’m looking for brings a smile to my face. It feels different to see it in a store instead of reading the rough drafts in the comfort of my bed. Damn the graphic designers put their foot in the cover; it captures the personalities of the main characters perfectly. I couldn’t be more proud.

My smile widens the closer I get to the display, realizing that there is only one copy left of the book. Deserved; everyone from the author to the marketing team have done their best to make this book a big seller. Thankfully the universe left one just for me.

Just as my fingertips touch the edge of the paperback cover, someone else’s hand brushes against mine.

"Oh! Sorry-"

"Ah, I’m so sor-"

My heart plummets and my head snaps up to look at them at once. Puppy brown eyes that I could identify out of countless others and a million stars stare wide-eyed right back into mine.

Fuck.

"Riley?" He breathes, his handsome face painted in disbelief.

I can only wheeze, my chest throbbing as if my heart will explode.

Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck—

Before he can say another word, before I can crumble in front of his questioning orbs, I turn on my heel and sprint out of there like a bat out of hell.

I’ve been doing better, I’m slowly healing from it all, but the moment I see his face—his sweet, tired, kicked-puppy face, I fold quicker than an umbrella in an incoming hurricane. It hurts worse than the force of an 18-wheeler. My whole world full of its fragile edges and duct tape unravels under the weight.

Normally, I wouldn’t do this.

…

Okay scratch that—I used to do this. All the damn time, but with the way our lives have changed and that one conversation we had back in March 2 years ago I… I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk to him. I’ve made it my mission to avoid Sehun.

I know what he will say the minute I tell him what’s up: I told you so—the bane of my existence. That one phrase alone is enough to keep me from confessing so many things. I rather suffer in silence than hear that sentence, but… This is different.

No matter how much it pains me and paints me in shame, I need to tell my best friend what's been going on. After everything he has done for me since our childhood... I owe him that much. So here I am now.

I chew on my bottom lip and knock firmly on his apartment door, waiting for someone to answer with bated breath.

It opens a few minutes later, revealing his unmistakable tall form as he dries his hair. Sehun does a double take. "Shorty?" He breathes in disbelief, pausing in ruffling his messy black locks.

I laugh a little, warmth sparking in my aching heart from the nickname. "Yeah," I breathe, managing a wobbly smile, already feeling tears prickle my eyes. "That's me."

We stare at each other for a long moment, nothing but the distant swish of driving cars and the muffled conversations happening beyond the open balcony on his floor fills the silence. Ah… My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I shouldn’t have come here. He’s probably busy enough as it is-

As if reading my mind, Sehun’s gaze softens. He throws the towel around his neck before opening his arms. "Come here."

I bury myself in his chest without hesitation, soaking the fabric of his black t-shirt with my tears. "I’m sorry," I croak, holding back sobs.

"Hey, hey," a low, soothing voice chimes in, resting a hand on my arm. "What happened?"

"I don’t know," Sehun mumbles, rubbing my back as I shake in his arms. "But whoever did it will be missing an arm."

"N-No need, Hun," I sniffle with a shaky sigh, pulling away from his embrace. A chill covers my skin with goosebumps the moment I step away. It’s been like this all week; feeling hot to the touch, yet shaking like a leaf at the same time. I have no idea what is going on, and at this point… I don’t want to know. I can say that for a lot of things.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I turn around, smiling apologetically at the brown-haired man standing in the doorway. "I’m sorry for popping up out of the blue, Lu."

"Nonsense," Luhan shakes his head, his curly hair partially covering his worry-filled eyes. He takes my hand between his, "Come in, I’ll make us some tea."

"Okay," I whisper, shuffling into their apartment. I take the tissue box he offers me, following him into the spacious living room. He goes into the kitchen while I sit down on their couch, my breath hitching from the emotions budding in my chest.

Sehun closes the door, noisily walking on the wooden floor in his flip flops. He sits down next to me, questioning me with his unwavering stare, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eye. I… I don’t know where to begin; I can’t even find the words. The squeal of the teapot in the other room fills the tense silence between us.

"Alright," He sighs, propping his foot up on the coffee table and resting his arm on his knee before giving me a hard look. "What did Byun do?"

I choke, snapping my eyes to his, "How do you know?"

"You never visit," He points out in the driest of tones. "And when you do, you always call first."

I can only lower my head, pulling my knees to my chest.

"You don’t usually cry after seeing my face either. I mean," He continues, nudging me with his elbow. "Am I ugly or something?"

I snort. "Shut up." Shaking my head, I sigh deeply. "I just… A lot has happened." Risking a peek at him, my shoulders relax at the worried furrow of his brows and the care in his sharp brown eyes.

He nods, smiling the softest that I’ve seen in a long time. "I got time."

I smile a little, my chest bursting in gratefulness for having a friend like him in my life. No matter what happens or what I get into, I can always count on Sehun to be there.

…

If only I didn’t have so much baggage to bring to his door.

"I…" Come on; I ball my hands into the fabric of my shirt. Say it.

Sehun keeps his eyes on me and I struggle more to get the words out, my chest starting to heave. Should I be here? Should I be doing this? What will he say? What if this just makes everything worse—

No.

Sehun is my best friend. We have shared so many memories together, the good and the bad. I was the first person he came out to. He was there when my father walked out of my life. I cheered him on as he climbed the ranks of his weight training team. He helped me catch fireflies in my backyard when all I could rely on was my poor eyesight.

It’s always been him and I against this cruel world. One man—one boy, won’t change that overnight.

"I broke up with Baekhyun."

"What?!" Sehun leaps off of the couch. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah..." I drag out, looking him up and down in confusion. Panic hits me in the gut. "W-Why? What’s wrong-"

"Dude!" He exclaims, tangling his hands in his hair, the most comically distressed expression on his normally 'bitch’ face. "I thought he broke up with you."

The thought of what would have happened if Baekhyun had been the one to dump me makes my heart hurt so much I feel the color drain from my face.

"H-Hey," Sehun immediately takes notice, waving his hands around. "Not on the couch, anywhere but the couch-"

Luhan suddenly appears behind him with a tray of drinks, lovingly smacking the back of his head. "Here," He soothes, ignoring Sehun’s pelulant whines while setting down the tray on the coffee table and offering a mug to me.

"Thank you, Lu." I breathe, smiling when the scent of lemon and ginger hits my nose.

Luhan takes the seat on the other side of me, resting a comforting hand on my knee. "We’re here." He nods, sharing a look with Sehun before focusing back on me with the gentlest of eyes. "Whenever you are ready."

Gulping, I curl my fingers around my mug, the warmth of the tea and their soft eyes giving me the strength to open up.

I am finally able to put everything into words… I just hope we all make it out unscathed.

Closing my eyes, I start from the very beginning, updating them on what has happened since the year we started dating. The summer fight I never told Sehun about, Baekhyun’s ex Haneul following me around. The French lady at the photoshoot, the model behind the scenes. Our fight that reached the public. What went down at the Byun’s house… And finally… how I ran, and never looked back.

Sehun’s facial expressions shift from one extreme to the next throughout my confession. At one point I have to look away from him, stuttering the more I see the disappointment in his eyes. By the end of it, I’m mumbling to the lukewarm mug between my palms rather than them.

My words trail off into silence, nothing but the ticking of Luhan’s treasured grandfather clock making a sound. I’ve grown to hate this the most: the empty space that leaves room for my thoughts to sneak up on me again.

"You were hiding all of this..." Sehun speaks up, betrayal joining the disappointment in his eyes. "All this time."

A lump forms in my throat, "I-"

"You kept this to yourself for years." He grits out, his voice growing sadder by the minute. "Years, Riley."

"I’m sorry," I sob, curling up into a ball, choking on my tears. "I’m s-so sorry."

"Why?" He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I-I didn’t wanna bother you," I babble, gasping so much for air I choke even more. "You’re busy with work and your own love life, who am I to bother you with my problems?" Tears blur my vision and stain my glasses, rolling uncomfortably down the bridge of my nose. "Isn’t that what growing up is about?" I whisper, staring lifelessly down at my untouched tea. "Learning how to depend on yourself?"

"Riley, I don’t care if you’re fucking 80." Sehun barks, scaring me until he opens his arms, forgiveness swirling in his softened brown eyes. "You can come to me for anything."

"O-Okay," I mumble, hiding in his chest.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I don’t care if you shave your relaxed hair, adopt a cat, or the world is on fire." He proclaims sternly. "No matter what, you can always come to me."

The comforting smell of fresh laundry on his clothes has my shoulders relaxing, my sobs quieting down to small hiccups. "Okay."

"Good. Now take these sweaters back."

His words take a few moments to register in my sluggish mind. "Huh?" I blink, lifting my head off of him, sitting up fully and immediately recognizing the bundle of clothes in Luhan’s hands. "No," I shake my head, ignoring how dizzy I suddenly feel. "Sehun, those are yours-"

"And I want you to have them."

"I-" My heart constricts in conflict, "But-"

"But nothing. You act like I don’t know that your ass gets cold." He mutters grumpily, crossing his arms. "Keep them, alright?" Being the observant guy that he is, he picks up on my weary glance at Luhan. "Lu chipped in some of his too."

"Mine are comfier," His boyfriend jokes, smiling cheekily.

"Yah."

"You know it’s the truth."

"Only because you—yah! Why are you crying now?!"

"I just…" I sniffle, laughing softly. "I love you guys."

Luhan’s smile brightens while I whine over Sehun messing up my hair. "We love you more."

•••

May passes by in the blink of an eye, mature plants welcoming the upcoming summer heat. I love and hate this for two reasons. One, it’s a certain someone-who-shall-not-be-named birth month. Two, the dance competition is two weeks away. Two weeks. It is literally May 20th and I am sweating my hair out over it.

Why did I agree to this forsaken competition again? Oh right—I decided that a two-step routine is the equivalent of a love triangle. Nice going, Riley.

I sigh, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm. Two weeks until the competition means that my schedule is more packed. Yeah Park’s Publishing may be on an "easy going" break from publishing books right now, but I’m not getting a breather.

Nope, the moment I jokingly told Jongin how I didn’t know what to do with all my free time, he brought up daily dance practice—no, he down right demanded it. And when I started to complain:

"What? It’s not like you have anything else better to do."

I’ve been seething over that for a week.

Huffing at the memory, I plop my bag not-so-subtly on a chair before looking at Jongin on the other side of the room.

"Glaring at me won’t help you perfect the choreo faster-"

"Suck my dick."

"Oh, baby," He grins, raising a brow. "I would if I could." He saunters his way over to me, his beautiful bronze skin already glowing in a thin sheen of sweat when he leans down to face me, "but I don’t mind either way."

I push him away with a hard roll of my eyes, "Let’s get this over with."

"Feisty," He humors. "Someone is feeling better today."

"Better enough to kick your ass," I mutter, tying up my hair in a messy bun.

"Let’s rehearse the second verse," He takes a swing of his water bottle, a serious expression on his features. "Then we’ll talk."

"Bring it on," I lift my chin, playing tough despite the nervousness washing over me.

He nods, grabbing the stereo remote and getting into position. "Show me what you got."

We go over the steps one last time before we begin. The first half of the choreo goes smoothly… and then I stumble the moment the second chorus hits.

"Let’s take a break."

"No," I shake my head, resting my hands on my knees.

"Riley."

"One more time." I pant, trying to catch my breath. "I swear I got it, just-"

"We’ve been at it for 30 minutes."

"But-"

"Break. Now."

I flop to the floor in a tired heap, groaning loudly to annoy him. I’m grateful he called for a break though, my flat feet are crying for mercy like no one’s business. Maybe I should—"Ah," I sigh in relief.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking off my shoes," I mumble, throwing him a look over my shoulder, not liking his attitude. "My feet are dying over here."

Jongin raises a brow, leaning against the mirror on the other side of the room. "Your parents didn’t see a pediatrician about that?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Born and raised in America," I chirp. "The land of the free, Mother fucka."

Both his brows shoot up. "Are you feverous?"

"No," I mumble, fiddling with a loose string on my shirt. "It’s really hot out."

"Have you been sleeping?" His eyes narrow at my lack of response. "Riley?"

"Oh would you look at that, the ceiling tiles have a noticeable gap between them-"

"Sit down."

"I’m fine." I sigh, reluctantly dragging myself over to the only chair in the room.

"You won’t be if you keep this up." He points out, more than a little peeved. "Have you been drinking enough?"

"I-"

He thrusts his water bottle in front of me. "Drink this."

"But you drank from it!"

"I’ll give you mouth to mouth too if you don’t sit your ass down."

I blink, giving him a long, wide-eyed stare. "Why so serious?" The fed up expression on his face is enough of an answer. "Okay—okay! Fine." Inspecting the bottle for anything floating around on the bottom, I tilt my head back to pour some water in my mouth, mumbling with stuffed cheeks, "There, happy?"

Jongin just sighs, turning on a rotating fan. "Stay here. I don’t want you moving until you finish that bottle."

"Sir yes sir," I mutter, giving a little salute. Grinning when he glares sternly at me. He sighs before going back to the other side of the room.

Watching him practice his solo parts in the mirror, I leisurely sip from the bottle, noticing how his shirt sticks to his fit body. Jongin is tall, a bit broad, and lean. He has a dancer’s body and muscle in all the right places—I can’t imagine his diet. I shiver at the thought of it, checking my forehead. I’m not picky about fitness; I’m a bit on the curvy side myself. I rather have something to sink my fingers into. Speaking of which...

"Hey, Jongin?" I call him tentatively, continuing when he hums. "Why… Why did you make a choreo with me in mind?"

He doesn’t respond for a minute, and I wonder if he will until he goes over to retrieve something from his bag. "I always wanted to dance with you," He admits, throwing a towel around his neck. "To know what it was like to view your beauty up close." He bends his knee, bracing his foot against the wall as my eyes widen. "The way you move, twirl around, and glide across the floor. The blissed out expression on your face… You are at home on the dancefloor, and it shows." He looks up at me then. "You shine brighter than a million stars."

I forget how to breathe for a moment, staring at him with wide eyes and a racing heart.

"I’ve never been envious of Baekhyun but..." His sultry eyes meet mine again. "When it comes to you, it’s hard to fight my jealousy."

My lips part a few times, endless questions dying on the tip of my tongue. Realizing I’m gaping like a fish out of water, I settle for looking down with a hot blush.

Jongin chuckles, tossing his towel onto his bag. "Come on," He pushes off of the wall, walking over to me and taking me by the hand. "Let’s finish up for today."

"I can stand up on my own, you know?" I grumble. "...Thank you."

He just smiles before we take our positions in the middle of the room.

We take it from the top again, soaring through the routine without a hiccup. I put all my energy into not missing a step, dancing beside and around him with ease—

"Stop."

"What?" I blink, turning around to him. "What’s wrong now?"

"That."

"What?" I repeat, my eyes narrowing.

"That." He emphasises, gesturing to me. "You’re too tense. You need to relax."

"How do you expect me to relax, Jongin?" I mumble heatedly, hurt swelling inside of my chest. "I broke up with the love of my life. I had a shitty week. I can barely do the second verse of the choreo without breaking my ankles-"

"You can’t relax," He speaks up, suddenly standing in front of me. Staring into my eyes with his determined ones. "Because you don’t want to."

"I-"

"You fear what will happen if you do." He continues, holding me captive with his piercing gaze. "You fear the unknown."

"D-Don’t I have the right to...?" I hush, feeling my heart race the longer I look into his observant brown eyes. A part of me hates it; being read like an open book. My vulnerabilities and weak points on display without me wanting them to be. But this is Jongin.

He stares deep into my eyes, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. "Not on my watch."

There’s nothing to fear.

He selects a song for the stereo to play, and the moment a certain afrobeat instrumental plays through its speakers, I feel the urge to move my body deep in my soul.

"Let go," He encourages, turning around to meet my eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

Woman

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I’m intimidated by my reflection in the mirror. The sight of me with messy hair, dewy skin, baggy clothes, and my bare feet makes me feel like the wildest looking woman in the world… until I see the sadness and fear visible in my own eyes.

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

Slowly, I move my hips to the beat, getting a feel for it while watching myself in the mirror. My awkward posture makes me tsk, shifting into a more flattering and stable position.

What you need?

She give tenfold, come here, papa, plant your seed

She can grow it from her womb, a family

Provide lovin' overlooked and unappreciated, you see (Yeah)

The lyrics… A sense of empowerment washes over me in waves, motivating the swirl of my hips and the smile forming on my lips. The melody of the song begins to seep into my very bones, warming me up from the inside out.

You can reciprocate

I got delicious taste, you need a woman's touch in your place

Just protect her and keep her safe

Baby, worship my hips and waist

So feminine with grace

I touch your soul when you hear me say, "Boy"

Let me be your woman

Winding my waist feels like the most natural thing in the world, circling my wrists while bringing my hands back down to my sides. I can see Jongin’s proud smile from the corner of my eye.

My movements get more energetic as the chorus plays again, the repetitive lyrics flowing like the blood in my veins, felt deep in my very being. Hitting me on a level that very few things ever could.

I glide across the floor when the second verse begins, letting my hair loose and throwing my weight around. The soreness of my waist only makes me shimmer harder, fighting against the aches trying to hold me back—against the chains locked in my mind.

Princess or queen, tomboy or king (Yeah)

You've heard a lot, you've never seen (Nah)

Mother Earth, Mother Mary rise to the top

Divine feminine, I'm feminine (Why?)

Throwing my hands up, I smile as Jongin starts complimenting my movements, playing a smooth rhythmic cat and mouse game with him all over the dance studio. My bare feet on the wooden floor propels me forward, making me feel more connected with the Earth around me, with the woman I want to be.

I’ve caught up to him by the time the song ends, breathing heavily with giddiness pumping in my veins. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I feel like me again—I’ve found myself again.

A hand tucking hair behind my ear has my eyes snapping up to Jongin’s, the adoring expression in his chestnut brown eyes making me feel small and appreciated at the same time. He cradles my face in the palm of his hand, rubbing his thumb over the apple of my cheek. Tingles erupt on my skin; my heart swells with something I haven’t felt in a long time when he starts to lean in.

"You were out fucking Jongin."

I flinch away, pressing my back to the wall, my heart in my throat. "I-I," I look away, hot embarrassment painting my face red. "I don’t want to make you a rebound." A thought occurs to me at that moment: how much taller and stronger Jongin is than me. The consequence of my actions. The vacant practice room. Fearing the worst, I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Nothing happens for a while, the silence dragging on for so long that I start to grow lightheaded, cursing myself for agreeing to all of this in the first place.

Are you happy?

I pause, thinking hard for a moment. Despite the rain cloud constantly hanging over my head, I am doing something that I love. Regardless of me looking like pure shit, Jongin sees a light in me. And against all the fucking odds, I… I feel liberated. I feel free.

With that, I open my eyes, staring fearlessly at the man in front of me.

To my surprise, Jongin smiles. "I don’t want to overstep my boundaries," He mumbles, resting his forehead on mine.

A smile breaks out on my face, putting my secret dimples on full display.

It’s finally D Day—the dance competition is just about to begin, and I can’t for the life of me find my bracelet.

"Do you really need that?" Jongin carefully ruffles his styled hair, squinting with one eye over at me.

"It’s for luck," I justify, searching both our bags.

"You depend on a silly little bracelet to give you luck?"

"My grandma made it for me," I snap, my blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Okay, okay—you," He gently takes me by the shoulders, directing me to his chair. "Sit. I’ll find it."

Finding that all-too-familiar 'no nonsense’ expression on his face, I sigh, carefully covering my eyes with my hand. Both of us got our makeup done for today. He’s got on a golden glimmer of eyeshadow to bring out the sultry brown of his eyes, and I’m rocking a burgundy shade that makes my eyes have their own sensual glare in the mirror.

Tucking my hair-sprayed hair behind my ear, I wince at the thought of washing it out later, but the end result is worth it. My brown hair is bone-straight, complementing Jongin’s lavender-gray, middle-parted hair. Not gonna lie, he’s a total eye-candy right now in that red jacket and mesh shirt, and his stage presence is to die for. His oozing confidence just pumps me up even more.

Watching him pull out my bracelet from some hidden department that I have never seen before in my life and come over to strap it onto my wrist with the gentlest touch has newfound hope blossoming in my heart. We came to perform and we came to perform well.

As if hearing my thoughts, Jongin looks up at me at that moment, nodding firmly.

I nod right back, smiling softly. Win or lose, we are going to give it our all.

We make our way out of the dressing room, listening for our cue from the staff member next to the gap leading out onto the stage. They give directions to someone in their headset before giving us the signal.

I can hear the crowd as we step onto the stage, vibrating the floor under us and my whole being with their excited cheers. Nerves aren't pumping furiously through my veins. No, pure adrenaline guides me forward, and the reassuring smile Jongin sends my way makes me at ease all the more.

When the lights dim and the music starts, my hands are already in my hair, my hips popping to the beat.

Just let it flow as it is for me.

As it moves, show me.

I slide down into a crouch, spreading my knees before rolling my neck to the beat. Quickly standing back up, I slowly run my hands through my hair, swaying my hips side to side. I stop moving to let the crowd focus on Jongin, watching him with a smile.

The party has been getting boring.

Jongin starts doing his own thing while I beckon him closer with a body roll, strutting to him on the other side of the stage. I strike a different pose along to the beat, rubbing my hands over my body and rolling my hips.

Don’t hide it anymore for me

Sliding my hand down my chest, we lock eyes before the chorus hits.

The reason that hides your heart

Do you feel it triggering me a bit?

Here comes the fun part; we sync up our dance moves. Shooting each other little smiles while staying on beat. My long hair sways in the wind; the feeling of being free—free to be me striking me with a sense of comfort in this moment. Jongin catches my eye as if he feels it as well, his killer smirk morphing into a heartwarming smile.

Baby don’t play with me

I slow down to sway my hips to the beat while Jongin slides behind me, pressing his firm chest to my back. The ripples of his abs brush against me through the fabric of his mesh-shirt, warming my sun-kissed skin under the light heat of the partially cloudy sky. His hand tucks under my chin when I face him for the next lyric, "You’re my VIP."

(She talkin’ about)

We sync up again for the next part of the choreography, making me giggle in delight, beaming over the fact that I might have cried a hundred times practicing this choreo but I can finally say that I can dance it without breaking my ankles. And the proud smile on Jongin’s face adds onto that fact.

He points out to the crowd and we change positions as the pre chorus starts again. Jongin acts like the cool, smooth man that he is while I roll my way back to him, matching his moves before blowing a kiss to the crowd when the chorus kicks back in again.

Top down ya

It could be you and me, it could be you and me

I place my hand on Jongin’s shoulder, strutting around him while he shrugs off his jacket. Preparing for the bridge that we changed last minute. Now it’s his time to shine.

Now let me give you what you want tonight

You told me

I take a step back, focusing on complimenting his movements while he has his moment to woo the crowd. Those charming smirks and attractive smiles can steal the heart of anyone, especially the cheering people standing in the front row. There’s a lot of things I’ve learned recently about Jongin, and his unmistakable stage presence is one of them.

The chorus comes back one final time and we go all out. Dancing until our feet ache and the wind picks up around us. The sweet smell of tteokbokki and summer breeze in the air brings another smile to my face. Jongin gets down on the floor while I kneel on one knee to straddle his lap, looking into his eyes with his finger tucked under my chin as the last lyrics of the song fades away.

There’s a long moment of silence, and then the crowd erupts into cheers. Applauding so loud it overwhelms my sensitive ears. Jongin and I step forward to take one last bow, smiling at each other before making our way off stage… but a certain, persistent stare has my eyes flickering back to the crowd. The glimmer of silver hair in the front row is all I allow myself to see before hurrying to leave.

"That was," I start, gasping for breath by the time we reach the dressing room. "Fucking amazing!"

Jongin smiles, glancing over at me, "You liked it, huh?"

"Dude—I fucking lived for it!"

He laughs and it’s super cute, especially with his wide smile.

"That was so cool," I sigh, flopping down onto the couch.

Jongin raises a brow, a smile still on his plump lips. "Would you do it again?-"

"Hell no!" I squeak. "Well… Not unless it’s with you." His eyes dance under the painfully bright lights. "Stop smirking, I take it back."

"Don’t worry." He chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans back against the vanity table. "You’ll be the first one I call next time too."

We’re called back up onto the stage before I can reply, but the smile I beam his way speaks volumes. However, nerves are plaguing my mind this time around. There’s no mistaking the silver hair that I saw in the crowd.

Just as I thought, when we are standing next to the other contestants, there he is. Front and center. I close my eyes with a deep sigh. What the fuck, man? Why are you everywhere?! Can I catch a break from him please? Please?!

Tension builds in my body, but then something cracks.

You know what—

I clench my fists. Fuck him. It doesn’t matter if he’s here or not; he’s no longer a part of my life. Why should I care?

My eyes don’t stray far from the judge and Jongin, even with the constant itch of Baekhyun’s stare. Take a picture, it’ll last longer, asshole.

The minutes seem to drag on as the judge gives his big speech, listing the criterias and rubric for calculating the winner. A whole lot of gibberish that I have no interest in listening to; I hope Jongin is paying attention. The knowing look he gives me when we briefly make eye contact confirms it. Yep, I smile sheepishly. Sorry.

That damn ticklish sensation on my skin still hasn’t moved while the couple in 3rd place steps forward to receive their reward. I swear to the heavens, Byun Baekhyun—

Snapping my neck around, I glare right at him despite my heart dropping at the sight.

He stands in the front row, sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest of the crowd in his black hoodie and dark jeans. The only thing that makes him pop is his ever-silver hair… and the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

My heart races. Are those—

"And the winner is: Jongin and Riley!"

The crowd roars in excitement, everyone standing up to applaud us as the judge hands Jongin the trophy and a helper places a ribbon around my shoulders. I can’t help but beam at Jongin, both of us smiling wide enough for our mouths to hurt later, but I don’t worry about that now. This is our moment. I throw my arms around him, laughing loudly when he sets down the trophy to spin me around in the air.

"We did it!" I wrap my arm carefully around his neck, pumping my fist in the air.

Jongin sets me back down, keeping his arms loosely around my waist. "You," He plants a kiss on the top of my head, "did it."

I can’t erase the smile on my face or the glee in my heart even if I tried. My eyes glance back out at the crowd while he goes around congratulating the other contestants, immediately locking onto those soul-sucking, puppy brown eyes. Half a year later and his eyes never fail to make me feel nothing and everything all at once. But I won’t let that define me: I’m not Baekhyun’s woman anymore.

Spectators in the crowd around him are buzzing with energy, dancing to the outro music they are playing overhead while he continues to stand stock-still, his brown eyes focused on me.

My mind drifts for a second, imagining what it would have been like to be standing up on this stage with him, winning the competition with him by my side. I acknowledge it, let my mind have its little reminiscing moment—and then nip it right in the bud.

I don’t want to live a life of 'What ifs?’ anymore—I want to experience those 'Why nots?’ instead.

I sense Jongin before he steps closer, his chest brushing against the back of my arm. "Are you ready to go?" He asks, his lips grazing my ear.

I continue to lock eyes with Baekhyun, laughing inwardly at the unreadable expression on his face and the lack of a sparkle in his eyes. And when that tall raven from months ago runs to pull him into a hug, my gaze doesn’t waver from his in the slightest. "Yes." I turn my back on him and rest my hand on Jongin’s bicep with a swirl of my hips, peeking at him from under my eyelashes.

He smiles down at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. We link our arms together while walking backstage and out of the stadium.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1) P(2) | Part 6 P(1) P(2) —– P(3) P(4) —– P(5) P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1) P(2)

A/N: Team Jongin or Team Baekhyun? After that dance practice scene, my heart is stuck somewhere in between 💔

Hiya! Long time no see (^-^)

I don't have much to say ahh (>.<) my brain is fried. The emotions in this chapter came from a week of sleepless nights and a marathon of Doja Cat's Planet Her <3 I still got 10 scenes to finish up before Six Phases will be completed. This isn't the end! Just the best cliffhanger I could do with a 100+ page doc (thanks to my nearsightedness. font-size 16 is a lifesaver)

I might suddenly drop the Finale out of nowhere :'D everything depends on Riley~

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story!! 🥺🥰🌸💗 Writing this baby (haha) is my favorite thing to do and to share it with all of you means the world to me <333 Alright, I'll stop being mushy. Have a great weekend, lovelies! See you as soon as the Finale is done~

Happy two years of Un Village & city lights!!

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Thank you endless Baekhyunee for inspiring me. I wouldn't be here without you ❤️

#baekhyun angst #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfiction #bbh-net #baekhyun #Team J or Team B?#Six Phases

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bothcreativitybois · 3 years

Text

The Mayor’s Sweet Treat Chapter 1

Description: Small town AU where mayor Remus knew everyone, until a cute baker opened shop in his town. Patton is struggling to keep open the small bakery while his mother is gone. Then the rambunctious and rowdy Remus appears and vows to save him.

Ships: Intruality

TW: Swearing, stress, crying, slight burn, implied past bad relationship, food (obviously), sexual references (it’s Remus)

Taglist (ask if you want to be added): @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper

The old green truck rumbled down the road. Remus rubbed his stubble and tried to neaten his hair out but it didn’t do much.

How did I miss the opening of a new shop? What’s wrong with me?

-A few minutes earlier-

“Uhg this meeting sucks.” Remus groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Why do we have to do them every Monday morning?” His coffee wasn’t enough. He contemplated where he could get something stronger.

“Be my assistant Virgil. I need you Virgil.” He mocked his employers past words.

“Remus, you’re the mayor.” Virgil reminded him. “I know you have trouble paying attention but you need to listen. For your citizens.” The assistant looked over his notes as his employer whined.

“I already know what everyone thinks.” Remus defended. “Mrs Patty needs more wheelchair access, the berry farms proposed an idea to work with the high school to get more workers and Janus was caught spray painting again. It’s not hard to keep track when there are only like 100 people.” Virgil smiled smugly and looked up from his notes.

“So you know about the bakery reporting losses?” Virgil asked. Remus sat up and looked at him dumbly.

“We have a bakery?” Remus was dumbfounded.

“It’s new. Opened 5 months ago.” Virgil informed as he threw some papers on the desk. “The owner asked if there was any assistance we could provide the- Remus?” Remus was already jingling his keys.

“I’ll be back soon.” Remus said as he left. Virgil sighed.

Remus thought as he drove. He looked at the store fronts trying to find what had changed. They all looked the same. General store, Salamander Silk clothes store, café he’d just gotten another coffee from, Sammy’s restaurant, the closed down florist- wait. The widows weren’t blocked anymore. Remus pulled up in front of the building and got out of his truck. He didn’t bother locking it, there was only one criminal in the town and it was his best friend. There were no new signs on the building, but the old signs were gone. The windows were uncovered but the door was closed.

Remus wasn’t sure where the bakery was exactly but there was only one street of shops so it wouldn’t be hard to find.

Maybe the Ahujas opened a bakery? I’ve always loved Nisa’s kaju katli.

“It couldn’t be here…” Remus said to no one. He trampled up to the door to check if it was unlocked, it was. He swung it open and was greeted with a sweet scent and bright colours. The walls had new light blue wallpaper and the old stone floor had a cute pink rug trying to cover the large crack. “Are you open?!” Remus shouted past the displays of baked goods.

There was a crash.

Patton worked lazily on the cake in front of him. He tried not to let his tears get in the lovely icing he’d just finished flattening.

No one is coming anyway. Why bother?

He usually could control these thoughts but this morning he was tired and stressed. He hadn’t had a single customer for a month, he was reaching the last of his back-up funds. Patton dropped the icing spatula and pushed away from the cake for a break, the rolling stool he was on slid to the wall.

It was a mistake. No one wants you here. I should’ve stayed wit-

A ding cut through the room. Patton realised he was now full on crying. His cheeks were warmer than the bread he’d made this morning. He stood shakily and walked to the oven, he couldn’t let them just sit there. He put on his green oven mitts and opened the industrial ovens. The muffins sat there, plump and cute. He slowly reached up to get the heavy pan out. Benefit of a large pan is being able to make two dozen at a time, the downside was carrying two dozen dense muffins at once. He’d built up a little muscle these past few weeks hauling the flour himself but it didn’t help much.

“Oh fuck uh…” The tall figure said, Patton hadn’t quite looked up to see them properly yet. Remus frantically looked around for something to help the man clutching his arm. A sink. Remus grabbed the small man’s good arm and dragged him to the large sink. The tall person pulled Patton to the sink and turned on the water for him. He let go of his arm and shakily took off his oven mitt and put his arm under the stream of water.

“Are you open?!” A voice shouted through the small building. Patton turned in shock, accidentally hitting both the pan and part of his arm against the oven door. He dropped the pan and clutched his arm.

“Ah!” He let out a small noise. There were heavy footsteps and a tall man appeared next to him. Patton felt his tears rise back up. Not from pain, he was used to burns, but he was overwhelmed.

“Can you get that pan I dropped?” The smaller man muttered quietly. Remus looked across the room to see a pan of what looked like muffins in front of the oven. Thankfully it had landed without sending any muffins flying. He walked over and picked up the still hot pan. Patton turned to warn the tall person the pan was hot but was met with Remus holding the metal easily. The tall man was wearing a green flannel over a black shirt and some ratty black jeans, a stark contrast to Patton’s light blue t-shirt and pink apron and pants. The man had stubble that thickened along his upper lip and long brown hair pulled back into a messy bun. Remus placed the tray down and looked at Patton, his cheeks were red and he could see tears clouding his eyes. He noticed how much Patton was shaking.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, concerned. Patton turned away and focused on his arm.

“Yeah, you get used to burns.” Patton said weakly. He knew that wasn’t what Remus asked but hoped he’d get away with that answer. Remus knew what he was doing but decided not to press the man he’d just met. Patton took his arm out of the cold water and turned to Remus. “So who are you? A prince in shining cowboy boots?” Patton laughed weakly at the black square toe boots.

“Oh right.” Remus suddenly remembered why he was here. “I’m Remus.” He reached out a hand for a handshake. Patton took one look at the dirty hand then looked back up at Remus.

“I’m Patton.” He introduced himself happily. Remus realised his hands were dirty and pulled back. Patton giggled. Something about that giggle made Remus smile. “So Remus what do you do other than scaring innocent bakers?” Patton joked as he walked to his muffins.

“I scare innocent baristas.” Remus retorted, Patton laughed and wiped his face. “But if you mean work, I’m the mayor.” Patton looked up in a mix of doubt and surprise. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that. Actually I’m more surprised I don’t know you. Did you go to Mindville Public?” Remus referenced the public high school which was the only one in town.

“Oh no. I just moved here actually.” Patton answered. He began removing the muffins one by one. “Came here to start the bakery with my mother, but she had to go back to the city for some stuff so it’s just been me for a few months.” That made sense to Remus. It was unlikely that just one person ran this place. But he still wasn’t sure how he hadn’t heard of the bakery opening.

“I would’ve visited earlier but I didn’t know you were… well… existed.” Remus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Patton sighed.

“Yeah, it seems no one does.” Patton said dejectedly as he took out the final muffin. He picked up the now cool tray and moved past Remus to put it in the sink. Remus caught a sad look in his eyes as he passed, a look that even though they’d just met he could tell was not usual. Remus walked over and put a hand on Patton’s shoulder.

“Hey, you're one of my citizens now.” Remus stated and turned Patton to face him. Patton saw a sparkle of determination in Remus’ eyes. “I’d do anything to help my citizens.” They lingered close to each other. Patton began to tear up, then quickly wrapped Remus in a hug. Remus raised his arms as the small man squeezed his ribs, Remus looked down at Patton. He realised how tired he looked, he blushed as he buried his face into Remus. Patton pulled away and wiped his eyes.

“Sorry… it’s been hard these past few days and... “ Patton looked up at Remus, eyes catching each other. “Thank you.” Patton looked tired, sad and weak. Remus felt a sense of protectiveness rise in his chest. Everyone in town was rowdy and strong, that’s what happens when you’re raised in the country, but Patton was different.

“Remus!” A voice shouted from outside the building. The men looked out the windows to see a tall lanky man with dark hair falling over his face.

“Who’s that?” Patton starred as Remus began walking out of the kitchens. Remus sighed.

“My assistant. I have to go.” Remus said, then he stopped and turned to Patton. “How much are those muffins.” Patton beamed. He picked up one of the still warm muffins and threw it to Remus.

“They’re carrot cake and walnut.” Patton laughed. “Just stop by tomorrow and tell me what you think of them.” Remus nodded. He pulled out a card and a five dollar bill then put both on the counter.

“I’ll call you.” Remus winked. Patton felt his chest tighten, but in a good way. He waved as Remus walked out to Virgil.

“You can’t just drop out of meetings like that!” Virgil scolded as Remus walked out. Virgil saw an all too familiar crooked smirk on Remus’ face. “Oh no. No no no. What are you planning?” Remus took a bite out of the muffin, the aromatic flavours tingled against his tongue.

“I’m gonna save the bakery.” He said.

“Okay that actually seems reaso-”

“Then get the cute baker to grab my cake.”

“-there it is.”

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides au #sanders sides small town au #intruality #ts remus #remus sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #platonic intruxiety #ts janus #janus sanders #roman took over

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years

Text

Ripped Apart

Kinktober: Day 3, Hatefuck

Loki x Reader

He doesn’t have a reason to hate, in fact everyone loves you, but what happens when that hate is confronted.

Warnings: language, angst, smut,

Part 2 Part 3

He had despised her for as long as he could remember. From the moment she had stepped into the compound, Tony leading the way, he hadn’t trusted a single thing she had said. She had eyes more devious than the devil and a smirk to match. She had shaken his hand with the confidence of a goddess and sent him a wink to rival a courtesan. His muscles angrily shifted against his bones as he fought his instinct to get away from her.

The worst part of it all was that everyone seemed to like her. Everyone had gravitated to her in an instant. Even Bucky, who didn’t seem to like anyone, could be found at her side. He did his best not to grimace when she sat beside him or rant about her when everyone else was drunk out of their minds, he tried to not even mention it in the reports he sent in monthly. The one time he had Fury had brought him and questioned him about the feeling, hitting every feeling that churned in his stomach with facts to dissuade him. He had kept his mouth shut since then, seething in silence. The only person he dared to share his feelings with was Thor, who at least seemed slightly concerned.

It didn’t matter if she was doing everything perfectly or royally fucking everything up, he hated her. His dreams were filled with the idea of choking her until she turned blue, making her bleed until her skin lost color, making her scream until her lungs couldn’t take it any longer. Of course, he didn’t act on anything of the sort. If he even attempted his ass would be back in prison faster than she could raise an arm to defend herself. The closet he got was training. At first, he had avoided it all together, not daring to even look at her lest he be tempted to rip her apart; but now, he embraced it. Any chance he had he was on the mat, throwing her against the padded ground with as much force as he dared. She fought against him tooth and nail, grinning all the while. He tried to break bones, bruise her past recognition but she always seemed to slip away with a twinkle in her eye.

And then, as if to mock him, she would compliment him on his fight before disappearing with a group of interns who congratulated her for keeping up with a god. Normally, he would destroy something after that, adrenaline shooting through his nerves until his knuckles were busted and bloody and at least one wall is covered in dents that he wouldn’t bother explain.

And now they were partners, through and through. He had begged and pleaded, threatening Stark with everything he had, but there was nothing he could say that would change the man's mind. He had threatening to burn down Stark towers, but Tony was having none of it. Now, as they sat atop a building in Southern Germany he wanted nothing more than to push her off. Her hair was brushing against his face as she stared through the scope. She didn't even notice.

"Tie your hair up," he snapped, and she glanced over her shoulder, grinning at him.

"Sorry," she replied, brushing the hair behind her ear but with a smile like that he didn't believe a word she said. He continued to glare at her, even as she returned to the scope, and then when she pulled away, brow scrunched in annoyance. "Do you have a problem with me?" she snapped, and he almost wanted to laugh at the audacity. He didn't bother answering such a question, if she was really that stupid, he had more than one reason to despise her. “Hey, I asked you a question, just because you’re some god doesn’t mean you get to just ignore me,” she snapped, grabbing his arm with questionable confidence. He returned the gesture and slammed her against the electrical box beside them. She squirmed against his arm, but he didn’t let up.

“Fucking drop it.”

“Fuck you, Loki. I haven’t done anything.”

“I said, fucking drop it.” There was a beat of silence before someone spoke through their cons, asking if the pair were okay. She shoved him away and returned to her sniper.

Fifteen minutes later they were sitting on the hellicarrier, glaring at one another from across the deck. She had shot the target and now they were free to go home, and as far from one another as they possibly could. He couldn’t believe she didn’t know what his problem was, but the longer he sat there he wasn’t exactly sure if he knew what the problem was either. He was in Stark tower as fast as his legs would take him, ignoring Stark’s request for a report, and darting towards his room.

Meanwhile, Y/N was following him at breakneck speed, even daring to shove an unsuspecting intern out of her way. When she reached his door she slammed her fist against it, rehearsing the string of curses she was going lay out for him the moment he opened the door.

When he didn’t answer she resorted to slamming her foot against it, denting the door with each well-placed kick.

Inside, Loki was grinding his teeth with each attack on the last layer that was protecting her from her demise. She was screaming at him now, drawing attention to herself, as if this whole ordeal wasn’t bad enough. Finally, with great irritation he allowed her. She stumbled forward and quickly took a fighting stance he was used to seeing.

“You’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on right now, or I swear I’m going to make you forget you’re a god.” He took a long step forward, eyes narrowing with each second that passed through the tension.

“Make me forget I’m a god?” he asked with a chuckle and she aimed a kick at his jaw. It should have shattered the bone, it should have done enough to send his mind spiraling, but with a swift hand he caught her ankle and twisted. She fell to the ground with a cry. “Make me forget I’m a god?” he repeated stepping towards her as she scrambled away. “I think you forget who you’re playing with little girl.” She pulled herself up by his bedframe and leaned on the ankle that had suffered his attack.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve done everything,” he snarled grabbing her arm and tossing her against the wall. The paintings Thor had hung for him shook at the force and she cried out in pain.

“Tell me, tell me what I’ve done.” He grabbed her chin to answer but words failed him. She had done nothing, merely coexisted with him and yet he felt nothing but hatred.

Maybe that’s why he kissed her.

She squirmed away from him, hands pushing against his chest. He grabbed her hair, pushing her closer until he found it hard to breathe. Gasping for air, he pulled away, hands still pressing against. She glared at him and aimed a punch that he caught.

“I’m going to show you exactly why I’m a god,” he snarled placing himself between her legs. She swallowed and he grinned.

Everything that happened after that was nothing but hatred.

When he slammed her body against the drywall, he forced every ounce of anger he had been forced to hide into the move. She cried out but respond with a similar force, grabbing his arms and bruising his back against the dresser. His backbone cried out in protest and he flipped her onto the bed, climbing over top of her. He took her wrists and held them above her head, fingers tightening until the fingers curled from the blood loss. Her knee found his chest and he stumbled back.

“What the fuck?” she yelled standing up from the bed with as much dignity as she could manage with her shirt half torn off. “First you hate me and now you’re all over me.”

“Last time I check, you kissed back,” he taunted, enjoying the scandalized look on her face. A beat of silence passed as she tried to come to terms with the situation. He smirked when she moved forward, hiding the disappointment that she was leaving, until she grabbed his collar and kissed him.

He could feel her anger too. She wanted to be accepted by everyone, especially him, and by the way she was kissing him, she thought this would do the trick.

“I fucking hate you,” she muttered against his lips, nails digging into his skin until thin rivers of blood ran down his shoulders. He shoved her away and ran a hand over the wound. The red collected in the lines of his hands, pooling in the center of his palm. She watched him like a cornered wolf, leaping away when he attacked, dragging her towards the sheets. She fought against the contact, hands grabbing hold of flesh, not to push it away but to pull it closer against her better judgement.

Her shirt went first, or what was left of it. She was all tan skin, taught muscle and heavy breathing. His blood caked the fingernails that were clutching his shirt, doing their best to remove the clothing. He picked her up and pushed her against the wall once more, yanking her pants to the floor before wrapping her legs around his waist. The drywall dented when he slammed into her, residue drifting into their hair until it was a blizzard to match the frigid words that passed between their lips.

He wanted to rip her apart as she gasped around him, fingers clawing at her skin. She returned the favor, drawing intricate designs into the skin that hadn’t been damaged by a thousand more worthy opponents. It was a conflicting symphony of noises, the agony of pleasure ringing out over the proclamations of ongoing hatred.

To admit enjoyment was to lose and so all moans become a declaration of agony. Gasps drifted into screams and smiles became winces. Caresses were replaced by claws and when the climax came and went it was filled with anger, wishing more than anything to deny that it had ever occurred.

He dropped her to the ground, not bothering to watch as she pulled on her pants, panting against the feeling of emptiness. He was colder than before, not even her hot breath against his back could warm him.

“Get out,” he mumbled.

“I would like nothing more,” she snapped, marching out of the room without picking up her shirt. The door slammed behind her, sliding into place awkwardly because of the dents that had began their encounter.

He was glad she was gone, ecstatic in fact, and yet he wanted nothing more than to bring her back and rip her apart again.

#Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #Loki Angst #loki #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki x reader fluff #kinktober #hatefuck

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the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7

It has been scientifically proven by no one that writer’s block sucks. I hate it, but i managed to finish this chapter so I guess it’s ok. Credit for the characters goes to @lumosinlove. The idea came from @heyitssmiller and her anons. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Masterlist the flower that literally no one asked for

Finn smiled fondly when they saw Leo hiding behind one of the trees. Katie came running up to them and tapped their leg to get Finn’s attention. “Have you seen Leo?”

They pretended to think about it. Katie had been trying to find Leo for at least ten minutes, but every time she came close to finding him he sneaked away.

“Sorry sweetheart, I haven’t”. Her face fell slightly, “maybe Lo has seen him.” Katie smiled up at them before running to where Logan was talking with June and Adele.

Finn walked to where they had seen Leo hiding. They were looking at Katie to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally see them. “Nice hiding spot.”

Leo jumped a little, a small noise of surprise leaving his lips. He turned around and glared at Finn, hitting them on the shoulder lightly. “Don’t scare me like that.” Finn laughed at Leo’s glare.

Leo shushed them harshly, he looked back to make sure Katie was still looking for him. Finn lifted their hands in mock surrender and backed away slowly. “Sorry”, they whispered.

They could hear Katie’s giggles as she ran to where Leo was hiding, but he and Finn weren’t paying attention to her anymore. Leo felt her hug his leg from the side, “I found you!”

“Damn”, he whispered. “How did you find me?” He said loud enough for her to hear him.

“Logan told me where you were.”

Leo saw Logan wave at him with an innocent smile on his face. Leo sent him a mock glare that made Logan laugh.

“Did he now?” Katie nodded in response before turning around and running inside the house.

He started walking towards Logan, Finn following behind him. Leo sat down besides June, crossing his arms and pouting at Logan. “Why did you tell her where I was?”

Logan shrugged before answering. “You try saying no to that kid. It’s impossible.” Both June and Finn nodded in agreement while Adele just rolled her eyes. “No it’s not Logan”, she began, “you are just weak.”

Logan made a sound of indignation. “Have you ever told her no?” he challenged.

“Yes Logan.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. “It’s really not that hard. Mom does it all the time.”

Logan sighed in defeat. “Yeah, you’re right.” He hung his head in shame. “I’m weak.”

Logan lifted his head up when he heard Celeste calling them inside for lunch. Leo really liked Celeste, she was kind and gentle with him. He had been nervous to meet her, even though deep down he knew she wouldn’t be like Walburga his brain still found a million and one reasons to worry.

They got up and went inside. June sat between Adele and Katie who was sat besides Marc while Leo, Finn, and Logan sat opposite to them with Pascal and Celeste sat at either ends of the table.

“What are you three doing today?” Celeste had taken to asking about all three of them instead of just Finn and Logan. The two had rarely left Leo’s side since they had arrived anyway.

“We were planning on taking Leo to see the town.”

Leo turned away from his conversation with June when he heard Logan mention his name. “Wait”, he looked between Finn and Logan, “really?”

Finn smiled softly at his childlike enthusiasm. “Yeah, I mean only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to”, he was practically bouncing out of his seat from excitement.

“Can we braid your hair again?” Katie asked Leo with a pleading look in her eyes. Logan was right, Leo thought, saying no to her was hard. “Sure thing Katie”

After lunch Katie, Adele, and Marc took Leo away to Logan’s and Finn’s room. The girls sat him down on the bed he had been sleeping on the past few days while Marc went to get some flowers to decorate the braid. Leo picked up a book to read while the girls worked, the three of them settling into a comfortable silence.

Adele parted his hair in the middle, handing half of it to Katie so that she could begin her braid. When Marc got back he dumped a bunch of multicolored flowers at the foot of the bed and began carefully putting them into the braids that Katie and Adele had made. He placed the flowers where the braids were separate, stopping where the two braids turned into a single one, making it look like Leo was wearing a yellow and blue halo.

Leo looked up from his book when he heard knocking. “Who is it?” Katie yelled from behind him.

“It's Logan.” His reply was muffled by the door. “Can I come in?”

“No”, answered Adele.

“Why not?”, this time it was Finn’s voice that came through.

“Because”, Katie said in a condescending tone, “you’re gonna ruin the surprise.”

Leo heard who he suspected to be Logan groan, a small thud followed by the sound of someone sliding down the door making him chuckle. He felt Katie smothering her giggles on the back of his shirt. He was beginning to think she just liked to annoy Logan like any good sister should.

Adele gasped dramatically. “Something's missing.” Leo stared at her dumbly.

“What?” He asked.

“I got it!” Leo did not like the mischievous glint in her eyes. She got off of the bed and walked toward Logan’s wardrobe, Leo’s eyes went wide when he realized what she was doing.

“No.” He said bluntly.

She ignored him, taking one of Logan’s worn long sleeved jackets. “Adele”, she looked at him, “I can’t wear Logan’s clothes”.

“Why not?”

“Because they won’t fit”. That wasn’t the real reason, but it was as good of an excuse as any he could’ve come up with right then and there.

“Oh don’t worry about that, this one is actually a jacket he stole from Finn”, she gave him a smile, “it should fit just fine.” She tried to make herself sound innocent, Leo didn’t know what she was trying to do, he didn’t want to know either. He just knew she didn’t look, nor did she sound, the least bit innocent.

Leo sighed, he wasn’t getting out of this one. Either he admitted to the feelings he knew he shouldn’t be feeling right now or he agreed to her making him wear the jacket. “Fine”, he said, “I’ll wear it. But if Logan gets mad at me for putting it on I’m blaming you.”

“And I’ll throw the blame on Katie, he won’t say anything to her.” Leo saw Katie nod, a feeling of dread building in his stomach. “The two of you are a menace.” He saw Adele smirk and Katie looking proud of herself.

“Can we show Finn and Logan now?” Katie nodded at Marc’s question, getting off the bed and walking towards the door. Leo, Adele, and Marc following after her. Leo put a hand on her shoulder, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. She moved out of the way so that Leo could open the door.

Leo opened the door abruptly. Logan fell through, the wood no longer supporting him. He looked up at Leo and froze, if he hadn’t already decided that Leo was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen this definitely confirmed it for him. “Hey”, he tried to make it sound like a complaint, he failed.

Finn’s hands were covering their face as they tried to stop their laughter. When they managed to get it under control they offered a hand to Logan so he could sit up. He took it, grateful to have something to look at that wasn’t Leo.

Leo with flowers in his hair. Leo who was wearing his jacket that was actually Finn’s jacket. Leo with his pink cheeks and dimples and eyes shining with mirth.

Logan looked at Finn for a moment. He noticed the moment they looked at Leo, he wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t sitting so close to them. He saw Finn swallow, heard their breath hitch, Finn’s fingers tightening around his hand. Finn’s eyes met his for a moment, and Logan knew they were thinking the same thing he had.

“Is that my jacket”, was the first thing Finn said.

Logan saw Leo blush, he didn’t think Leo could get any prettier. “Y-Yes”. Leo’s nervousness made Logan melt a little. He thought maybe he shouldn’t be so in love with someone he had known for such a short time, but who was going to stop him anyway.

“It looks good on you”, Finn said. “It actually, you know, fits”. They gave Logan a pointed look. To anyone else it would seem like they were making fun of how big the jacket was on Logan, but he knew better. Leo wearing the jacket that belonged to Finn, but Logan usually wore, made sense. The same way their love for him and each other made sense to Logan and Finn.

“Thanks”. Leo fidgeted with the sleeves. “It was Adele’s idea.”

Of course it had been her idea. She gave Logan a knowing look. Adele always knew them too well. She was the one that helped Logan realize his feelings for Finn. She was the one that Finn first told about how they weren’t really a boy, but they weren’t a girl either. She had been the one that helped Finn feel comfortable enough to tell everyone. It was always Adele, and now Katie, if the smug look she was giving them was any indication.

“Can we take Leo to town now or do you plan to kidnap him again”. Finn looked at Katie for an answer. She pretended to think about it before answering, “you can have him, but I’m gonna need him back tomorrow.”

“Why?” Logan asked.

“Because he promised to teach me how to paint the sky. June is better at faces than landscapes.”

Logan nodded. He and Finn stood up from the ground and looked at Leo, he still had a small blush on his face.

“Come on”, Logan said softly, “if we leave now we can be back just in time for Celeste to not kill us from being late to dinner.”

Leo laughed lightly. People might think it was Pascal they should be worried about, but after meeting both of them he realized Pascal spoiled every single one of his kids. Celeste did too, but she also preferred to know where all her kids were at all times and her worry for them was usually masked under a mix of mock anger and amusement.

When they reached the living room they saw June talking with Celeste and Pascal. Katie ran up to him and tugged at his sleeve. He picked her up and looked at the others. “Heading out I suppose.”

Celeste turned away from her conversation to look at them. “Don’t disappear for three days again.”

After reassuring Celeste that they wouldn’t disappear again and picking up the bag with the stolen crown they headed out. Leo had almost forgotten about it, the crown had always been there but the three of them barely talked about it. Celeste and Pascal had been both angry and proud when Logan told them why they had it. It hadn’t come up since, and Leo had been too distracted to actually care.

“Do you want to return it before or after exploring the town?” Finn asked.

Logan was the one to answer. “Before. Let’s get it over with, I’m kind of getting tired of carrying the bag around.” Leo nodded in agreement. Logan looked about ready to throw the bag over the castle wall and let them deal with it.

They reached the castle gates sooner than Leo had expected. He was glad, they could finally let go of the crown and walk around.

Logan walked up to one of the guards at the castle gates. He had a scar going down his face over one of his icy blue eyes. The guard looked at Logan suspiciously.

“Hello”. Logan sounded nervous. He took the bag that was slung across his back and handed it to the guard. “The stolen crown is in there.”

The guard raised an eyebrow at Logan before opening the bag, his eyes going wide at the golden circlet. “Where did you find this”

“My friend and I, we actually stumbled upon the Carrow twins in the forest, and my friend is an idiot with a hero complex. He decided that we had to do something about it.” Logan sighed, the memory of Finn’s stupid decision almost bringing a smile to his face. Almost.

“So you guys just”, the guard paused, tone disbelieving, “you just took it and ran?”

“Pretty much. We almost lost our heads but it was worth it.”

“You must want some form of compensation for this? So, what's it gonna be?”

“Oh, no. It’s fine really, we don't want anything, just give that back to whoever it belongs to, I guess”. Logan said, scratching the back of his neck.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t even know what we would ask for”.

Logan turned when he heard his name being called. He saw Leo beckoning him over, the viola flowers in his hair making him look almost ethereal.

”That would be my cue to leave”, Logan turned back to the guard before continuing, “have a nice day sir”.

“It’s Jackson, and thank you for returning this”, he said as he lifted the crown up, the metal reflecting the midday sun.

“It was no problem, really”.

Logan walked up to Finn and Leo with a smile on his face. “Where to first?” he asked. He saw Leo’s face brighten up in excitement, “I don’t know. We didn’t really plan this out.”

“We should go to the market, see what we find there.” Finn put their arm around Logan’s shoulders and began walking. “Calling you my friend was the weirdest thing ever.” Logan thought about it for a moment before speaking again, “scratch that, calling you he was the definitely weirder.”

Finn had to laugh at that. Being called he didn’t really sound all that weird, it didn’t feel right but they didn’t really tell anyone they didn’t trust to use their proper pronouns, they were used to being addressed as he. But being called Logan’s friend was definitely laughable. The two of them had never been just friends.

They looked over at Leo. He was looking around at everything, his eyes shining in amazement. The town’s market was filled with people, there was a group playing music and children running around.

Leo turned to look at Logan and Finn with a smile on his face, “This place is amazing.”

They spent the entire afternoon going through all the shops in the market. At one point Leo had started dancing to the music that was being played, everyone had joined him. Seeing Leo being so happy and carefree made Logan smile. It was hard to believe this was the same man that they had met in that tower. By the time the sun had started to set the three of them were headed back home. Leo didn’t know when he had started considering the house home.

He was walking a few steps behind Finn and Logan. The two were talking in low voices about something. Leo wasn’t paying them much attention, he was more interested in the few stars he could see now that the sunlight was dimming.

“Leo.” He heard Finn say his name. He managed to stop himself before crashing into Logan. He hadn’t noticed when they stopped walking.

“Yes?”

“Can we talk to you for a moment?” Logan asked. He kept his tone even but he still noticed Leo tense slightly.

“About what?” Finn didn’t like that Leo sounded scared.

Logan cursed under his breath, “we didn’t really think this one through did we?” He sighed. “We kinda need to talk to you about something important.” He sounded nervous, it put Leo on edge.

“Ok”, Leo’s voice was shaky.

They got closer to Leo. Logan wanted to take his hand, he didn’t. Instead he grabbed Finn’s, they both needed someone to hold onto right now.

“Umm, I don’t really know where to start.” Logan said, his cheeks turning pink.

Finn sighed, there was no easy way of doing this and they had already put Leo on edge. If they kept stalling things would start going wrong.

They took a moment to think about what they were going to say. “We are both kind of maybe falling in love”, they took a deep breath before finishing their sentence, “with you.”

“What?” Leo choked out.

“We both like you”. That was an understatement, Logan thought. “A lot.”

Leo didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think he trusted himself enough to speak anyway.

“Please say something”. If Leo didn’t say something soon Logan was sure he would go crazy.

“You both like me?”

“Yes.” Logan tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

“Why?” Leo couldn’t help when his voice broke.

Finn placed their hand on Leo’s cheek gently, they didn’t miss the tears that were gathering in Leo’s eyes. They looked at Leo. Really looked at him for the first time since they had started the conversation. He looked tense, Finn hated it. So they did the only thing they had been thinking of doing every time they looked at Leo.

Leo’s eyes fluttered shut when Finn kissed him a small noise of surprise leaving him. He heard Logan’s breath hitch. He thought maybe he should care more about the fact that he was being kissed by someone who already had a boyfriend, but he didn’t.

Because it felt right. Because he couldn’t imagine being kissed by anyone else and it feeling the same. Because even though Finn already had Logan and Logan had Finn he wanted to have them both. And maybe they both wanted him and maybe that was ok.

When Finn broke the kiss they looked at Leo. His eyes were still closed, but he didn’t look as tense anymore. His eyes opened slowly, almost like he didn’t want them to.

“Is this real?” Leo’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Very real.” Logan didn’t sound mad. He got closer to Leo.

“You’re not angry?”

“Why would I be angry at you Leo?” Logan got even closer to Leo until their faces were inches apart.

“Because your partner just kissed me and I thought maybe-”

Whatever Leo was going to say was interrupted when Logan kissed him. It was different than Finn. They both kissed differently. Leo liked both, he didn’t know how he could like them both the same for such different reasons but he did.

When they broke the kiss Leo let his head fall to Logan’s shoulder. “You both like me.” It wasn’t really a question, but Logan nodded regardless, arms wrapping around Leo.

“You kissed me.” Again Logan nodded. He didn’t really know what else to do.

Leo felt another pair of arms wrap around him tightly. He felt himself relax, leaning into both of them. He was surprised by how right it felt.

“What now?”

“Will you be our boyfriend?” It was Finn who asked.

“Is that even allowed? Can we love more than one person at once?” Logan didn’t like how small Leo sounded.

“I don’t think love has rules, sweetheart.” Leo smiled at the word. “But even if it did, we clearly don’t care for them.”

“Alright”, Leo said softly, “I’ll be your boyfriend. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Finn kissed Leo’s hair softly because they could now. “Nothing is taking you away from us baby.”

“You promise?” Leo still sounded unbearably small.

“I promise.”

#o'knutzy tangled au #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #celeste dumais #pascal dumais

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writtenvisionary · 3 years

Text

Hypothetically - #AdrienAugust

Day 12 - “Photograph” @adrienaugust

Read on Ao3

No miraculous, aged up. Enjoy :)

Click. Flash.

“Alright, can you move your head to the right just a little? Yeah. Tighten your jaw. Yep. Stay just like that.”

Click. Flash.

“Bring your hand up next to your cheek. Mhm… back of the hand resting on your cheek…. Look right into the camera.”

Click. Flash.

“Good, now stay right there—“

A woman’s soft voice calls out from behind him, “Don’t be afraid to look angry. Your character just had her heart broken.

“Allow yourself to feel that emotion. As the audience, we want to feel the hatred you have for that woman.”

Click. Flash.

“Ok,” he says. “Pout and look to the left, just with your eyes.”

Click. Flash.

“Perfect! Stay like that…”

Click. Flash.

As he adjusts some settings on his camera, his creative director walks over to the set and assesses the situation.

She instructs the stylist to fix any stray baby hairs and re-curl any hairs that have lost their bounce from the heat of studio lights, then she turns her attention to the set designers to have them tweak the background and find a faux twig for the model to hold for a new shot.

Even after his settings are adjusted and the test shots he has taken had come out perfect, he still has to wait. He finds himself watching her again.

Her dark blue hair is tied into a set of short pigtails, swinging back and forth whenever she walks. Her smile lights up the room, so he can tell when she is happy with the results. The way she problem-solves so quickly; how she comes up with the most unique ideas that he’s ever heard of in his two years of being a professional photographer…

She was perfect.

“Okay! Let’s continue!”

He picks his camera back up, waiting for the cue.

A light tap on his shoulder tells him that he can take control. He smiles.

“Alright. Eliana, could you twist your body and look back, so that the light hits the let side of your face?”

Click. Flash.

“Awesome. More edgy, if you can.”

Click. Flash.

He brings the camera down from the place over his right eye, looking at the photo in full.

“Love it!”

That wasn’t him who spoke. It was Marinette.

Marinette. The director full of creativity that he sometimes craves at night. He would never tell her, but he nearly melts into a pile of goo whenever he sees her.

If she ever agreed to be a model for a test shoot of his… he wouldn’t complain.

He shakes his head. Back to business.

——

The rest of the shoot goes well. Eliana had headed into her trailer to get out of her outfit before heading home, and the crew was busy cleaning up the studio. Adrien was closing his tripod when she approached him.

“Great job today, Adrien.”

He looks over to her and smiles.

“Thanks, Marinette. You did great too.”

Putting his attention back on the tripod, he continues.

“Want me to send you the raw files when I get back to the office?”

She doesn’t respond for a moment. He imagines that she’s thinking over her answer.

“Yes, but don’t rush. My parents invited me over for lunch. You know how they can be.”

He laughs, “Of course. If you want to just glance over them really quick then? That way you have peace of mind?”

This time he looks at her and she nods.

Without another word, he pulls out the camera from his bag and turns it on. Then he navigates to the media and clicks to the first photo taken during that session.

Eliana, wearing an off-white, prairie-style dress, had been posed in a sitting position with braids in her hair and plump lips painted red. Fake grass covered the floor she sat on, and a flat covered in greens and twigs represents a forest. She holds a single red rose in her hand, and pretends to take in the scent of said flower with a content smile on her face.

“Ooh, I love that one.”

He clicks to another photo of the same pose, but with the rose tucked behind her ear. Instead of looking down where the rose once was, Eliana had her head tilted upwards as she looked off-camera. She still held a content smile.

“This one turned out great,” Marinette points a finger to a spot on the image, “although the focus is a bit soft here. Is there any way you might be able to edit it so that the focus is back on her face?”

He nods, “Of course, yeah. I’ll email you the raw files by number and you can send me any feedback or ideas for the editing process for each one. Sound good?”

Then he made a dire mistake — he looked up, and now his gaze is locked on her hair as she continues to view the picture. They’re only inches apart.

Excitedly, she nods.

“Sounds perfect!”

She turns to him.

Their eyes meet.

Time stops.

Blue eyes flicker back and forth in wonderment; the design of irises entwining so wildly, mimicking ocean waves crashing onto the shore.

He feels weak in the knees, a shiver crawling up his spine at the thought of ever breaking away from her gaze. He holds his breath, not wanting a connection like this to be broken for a trivial activity such as breathing. No, who needs oxygen? He has her eyes.

It’s a storm within those shimmering orbs. Lightning strikes, where light emitting from the camera below causes a stunning reflection. Then the sharks attack; dark bulbs widening in anticipation, ready to bite at any moment.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared.

Thing is, he’s already fallen victim.

Without breaking his eyes away, Adrien feels around the camera, looking for a certain switch. Once he finds it, he flips it so that the media mode is now the camera mode. Then he pushes down the flash.

Slowly, he pulls his body away from hers’ just a couple inches and raises the camera up. Looking through the viewfinder, he adjusts the focus onto her right eye — which seems to have glazed over.

Click.

Then he steps backwards, far enough that he can get her full face in the frame, but not too far to where they’re no longer standing close together.

Her bangs falls imperfectly over her forehead, little hair wisps falling to the side of her face. A small nose compliments the faint flush of her cheeks, which bring out her luscious, pink lips.

Click.

When he lowers the camera, her trance seems to break.

She blinks rapidly, looking all around her and clearing her throat. Eventually, she quiets and looks over at him again. This time, less intensely.

He smiles, studying the photograph he had just taken. Wordlessly, he hands the camera over to the bluenette.

“This is the most beautiful photograph I have taken all day, Marinette… because you are the subject.”

At a loss for words, she stares at herself on the LCD screen. The large part of her that strives for perfection is disappointed in the visible flaws seen in the picture.

But another part of her has to smile at the compliment.

“Thank you, Adrien.”

The two are quiet for a few seconds.

“Well,” Marinette pipes up, grabbing her bag from the floor and assuring its place on her shoulder.

“I should get going! Lunch with the parentals.”

Adrien nods, biting his bottom lip.

He wants to ask, he really really does but he’s so nervous and—

No no no she’s turning to walk out the door!

“Would it—“

She turns around to face him, listening in anticipation.

He takes a quick, but short breath before blurting:

“Would it be highly inappropriate for a photographer to ask out his creative director?”

Then he back tracks.

“Hypothetically…”

With an amused smile, Marinette retraces her previous steps in his direction.

“Is this photographer named Adrien, and is this creative director named Marinette? Hypothetically,” she mocks.

He breathes a smile.

“Yes.”

She crosses her arms and hums, pretending to think.

Eventually, she responds.

“Highly inappropriate… but I’ll allow it. Hypothetically.”

His smile grows.

“Tomorrow night after the shoot? Dinner?”

“Looking forward to it.”

She winks and spins on her heel, turning to walk out the door. Two feet short of the threshold, however, she halts.

Without turning back, she utters playfully;

“Hypothetically, of course.”

#adrienaugreste #adrienaugust #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #no miraculous au #aged up #adrien is the photographer #hahaha I switched it up #bc he hates being the model #it's 4am why am I not sleeping #ml #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fic #miraculous ladybug #ooc miraculous #ao3

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 2: Roceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 2: There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate

Content warning: vague neglectful/bad home life mentions, liquor store mention (no drinking), implied past parental death.

Word count: 2.6k

When they first met, they didn’t like each other. Would they go so far as to say they hated each other? Probably not. But it was no secret that Roman and Janus didn’t get along, even if they traveled in a mutual friend group. If the two interacted at all, it was in snide remarks and gripes that had everyone else in the group groaning in annoyance. They just wanted five minutes of peace, that’s all. Just five minutes.

Roman was too preppy, Janus said. He was loud and abrasive and presumptuous and arrogant, an annoying theatre boy with too much energy. Other’s feelings came second to his dramatic and overplayed grievances.

Janus was too self centered, Roman retorted. He was untrustworthy and creepy and a compulsive liar, a loner with a mysterious backstory. Everything about him was kept hidden under a mask of indifference.

These things were true to some extent, but the group still loved them both too much to reject either one. So they both stayed, bothered by the other’s presence and unwilling to admit that maybe they disliked the other because they were so similar. They were both extravagant and theatrical and burdened with concealed insecurities, points that all of the rest of the group brought up regularly and they both vehemently denied.

It all changed one morning during school, on a regular Wednesday with average weather after an uneventful English class, when Roman got overly excited at the cast list for the newest show being put up and dropped his art bag. Without a second of hesitation, Janus crouched to help him collect the supplies that had flown across the hallway. That was when Roman’s sleeve slid up, as he was reaching for a paint pen that had rolled up against a locker, and Janus nearly choked.

00:00

He blurted out his accusation before he could stop himself.

“You said you haven’t met your soulmate! And you call me secretive?”

Roman snarled almost animalistically, covering his completed timer back up and grabbing the now full bag off the ground.

“If you must know, my timer’s always been like that. I don’t know when it ran out; too young to remember. I don’t even know if it was ever counting down in the first place. Defective.” He flicked the numbers on his wrist.

“Does anyone else know?”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the uncharacteristic sympathy in Janus’ voice. “Just Remus.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

“Why all the questions, Fibber on the Roof? Since when do you care about anything I do?”

Janus was quiet, breathing out a frustrated breath before folding down the bottom of his gloves, the same gloves that Roman taunted daily for making him look like every single Disney villain, the same gloves that made Roman turn to the rest of the group and insist that the guy was hiding something. Turns out he was right.

“My timer’s out too. I was too young to remember as well.”

Roman wasn’t able to respond, and Janus was surprisingly relieved. The silent solidarity in the other’s eyes was enough of an olive branch, just another thing they had in common. It was a pain the others didn’t understand, a frustration that couldn’t be fixed. So if from that point on, the bickering lessened and they finally allowed their shared interests to overlap, they surely wouldn’t be the ones to bring it up.

That’s how they found themselves, almost half a year later, sitting on the swings of a musty playground near Janus’ house, watching the sunset in an unspoken agreement to put off going back until absolutely necessary. It was just another thing they had in common; shitty home life. They didn’t talk about it much, because they knew how much it sucked to discuss, so they let the facts stand at the forefront and the nitty gritty emotions and smaller mental repercussions stay healthily buried. What did it matter? Their parents were awful, ‘nuff said.

“I just think it’s ridiculous, the amount of time he spent writing it.”

“He wrote and composed an entire play single handedly, J! Not a single word of it is dialogue, and it all rhymes! You try doing that in seven years.”

“I’m just saying, doesn’t it come to the point where you have to admit it’s too much work? Did he even know for a fact it would be successful?”

“He made it work, didn’t he? That’s what faith is for.”

“I wouldn’t have done it.”

“That’s what makes Lin Manuel Miranda a god, and you, a worm.”

Janus gasped and raised a mock hand to his chest, drawing a loud laugh from Roman. While the shorter of the two still wore his gloves daily, the other had slowly gained the confidence to wear short sleeves and display his empty timer, though god help the fool who asked him anything about it. The conversation with the group had gone well, though Jan hadn’t admitted that his situation was the same. They hadn’t known him as long, and they both agreed that it was a sensitive topic. Roman didn’t push him.

“The sun’s setting.”

“I had no idea,” Janus smirked, although the implications of the fast approaching darkness made a pit settle in his stomach.

“We don’t have to leave yet. I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I don’t really get in trouble that often,” The shorter murmured, kicking his feet in the dust under him, “She’s more just... forgetful. Ignorant. I’m not even sure she fully knows I exist all the time.”

Roman raised an eyebrow at the first bit of information he’d learned about Janus’ home life, besides knowing it was just ‘bad’. He was debating between quietly prodding him to continue or to just let it sit when Janus made the choice for him.

“The other day she asked me to go to the liquor store for her and literally didn’t believe me when I said I’m only eighteen. Then again, she’s forgotten my birthday for the last, what, ten years? So I guess she just lost track, got ahead of herself. I don’t know.”

“When’s your birthday?” It was the only response Roman could think of.

“August seventh,” He whispered, almost like it was a dark secret he was scared to admit.

“Wait, actually?”

Janus turned to him, eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah?”

“You’re joking. This is a joke, right?”

“I can probably find my birth certificate if you need proof. Why are you losing your shit?”

“That’s my birthday too!”

Janus matched Roman’s face splitting grin with one of his own, his worries slipping away. They’d all been irrational anyways, so good riddance. He quickly settled his face into a more neutral one, the unusual expression hurting his cheeks. A calm air settled between them as their eyes locked, almost in a trance, before Janus snapped out of it and turned his attention to the pink hues of the dimming sky.

“What are the chances?”

There was a lot Roman didn’t know about the newest member of the friend group, he realized after dropping Janus off at home and starting the walk back to his. Usually he’d pop in his earbuds, taking the longest back roads and detours to put off arriving even more, but today his head was lost in his thoughts. What else didn’t he know about the blond boy he was so infatuated with?

Two weeks later, Janus edged the front door of his house open, calling out a tentative “Mom?” before pushing it open all the way and pulling Roman in. There was no answer through the empty halls so he yanked the taller boy upstairs, praying that his mom wasn’t home instead of just ignoring his call. It wasn’t until he shut his bedroom door and leaned heavily against it did he remember to breathe, meeting Roman’s eyes shakily.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Parent’s are…”

“Yeah. It’s better if she doesn’t know you’re here.”

Roman nodded, finally looking around the room. One wall was completely adorned with old records, some cracked in places or missing pieces entirely. He found himself drawn to it, running a finger down the closest one to him as Janus collapsed on his bed, ruffling the yellow blanket beneath him. He took a moment to pull off his gloves, revealing his soulmark, a secret that only Roman had the honor of seeing. An old jukebox stood proudly in the corner, covered in a fine layer of dust.

“You definitely have an aesthetic,” Roman hummed, taking notes on the implications of the dust and not approaching the old machine. If Janus didn’t touch it, neither should he. Instead he sat down at the other’s desk, spinning himself lazily in the chair.

“It was all my dad’s old stuff. He loved music and antiques a lot. The record player was his, too.”

He followed Janus’ gaze and nodded, overly tempted to take one of the records from the wall and trying to play it, but knowing that would only end badly. The record player was covered in the same thin sheet of dust.

“Holy Hera, is that a baby picture of you?” His mind, apparently unable to stay on one topic for more than ten seconds, had decided to focus on the framed picture on the bedside table. He crossed the room and sat next to Janus on the bed, leaning closer to the photo but not daring to touch it. He inspected the woman, who could only be Janus’ mother, holding the tiny bundle and smiling weakly at the camera, her eyes tired and hair tied in a messy bun.

“Yeah,” Janus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “That’s the only picture I have with her. She hates cameras, always said she was self conscious and shit. It sucks that the only one I have, I don’t even remember taking.”

Roman knew he should respond to the surprisingly vulnerable statement, but his eyes had zeroed onto the still slightly slimy, wrinkly baby in the photo. Its little fists were tucked against his face, eyes closed peacefully, a moment of bliss that time forgot. That’s not what caught his attention, though. He squinted, edging just that much closer to the photo.

“You were born at Jacob Banks Memorial Hospital? I thought you lived in Chicago before you moved out here.” The tiny golden embroidery in the edge of the blanket was just focused enough to make out, as if he didn’t have an identical blanket at home, stashed under his bed in a box of other memories that were too special to throw away. He’d run his finger over the stitching a hundred times, reread the words and committed the blanket to memory, just for that high of simple childhood. And now, here was Janus as a baby, swaddled in the same blanket.

From the same hospital.

From the same day.

“Yeah. My parents were visiting relatives in town when my mom went into early labor. We didn’t end up actually moving here until a couple years ago.” Janus didn’t seem to notice the gears turning in Roman’s head as he reached forward, plucking the picture off the table and bringing it closer to his face. He tapped the glass, just above baby Janus’ arms.

“Right there, my timer. It’s just a few minutes left. I met my soulmate as a baby and no one cared enough to check who it was.”

“Janus.”

“I called the hospital as soon as I was old enough to comprehend, but they said they couldn’t help me. Didn’t have a record of anything to do with soulmates. Some help, huh.”

“Janus!”

“What? I’m trying to be melodramatic, Roman.”

“That’s the same hospital I was born in.”

“Okay? It’s the only one in town, I’m not overly surprised-” The lightbulb went off, and his head jerked up. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

They both were quiet for a moment, like the whole house was holding it’s breath, before Janus finally spoke, his voice a choked whisper. “Imagine with me, if you will,” he murmured, taking the picture and inspecting it closely. Not so much for sake of searching for details he wouldn’t have missed the hundreds of hours he spent inspecting the photo, more so just to avoid looking at the person beside him. “Two babies, born in the same place on the same day, put into the same small hospital nursery. They see each other, and click, their timers are out. Except both their parents don’t give a flying rat’s ass-”

“And so they never realize they met, and live their entire lives shrouded in mystery,” Roman finished quietly, suddenly terrified of the new ice they were walking on.

“Hypothetically, of course.”

His head snapped up and the spell was broken, meeting Janus’ pale eyes and jumping to his feet, flapping his hands to dispel his nervous energy. “Okay. Okay! That could… that could make sense! All signs point that way, right?” He began to pace the length of Janus’ room, head tilted towards the ceiling, “And I mean, god, I’ve liked you for how long now? So I’m definitely not upset!”

“You’ve what?”

“Alright, so we can call the hospital, or go there, or something! I’m sure they can tell us how many babies were born that day, that doesn’t seem like confidential information, right? And if it was just us three, you, me, and Remus, then that’ll settle it!”

“Wait, no, Roman, stop!”

Janus launched himself at Roman before he could click the call button on the Google search of the hospital, already dedicated to his plan. He ripped the phone from his grasp and tossed it onto the bed after pressing the power button, grabbing Roman’s hands tightly.

“Jan, what the hell? That’s the only way we’re going to know for sure if we’re-”

“But what if we’re not?!”

The two settled into silence after the outburst, searching each other’s faces intently. They both shared scared expressions, eyes wide with excitement and nervousness, the possibility of years worth of questions finally being answered. The promise that their two soulmarks weren’t dysfunctional, weren’t broken, and fate that had led them together one way or another.

But what if they weren’t?

“What if it’s a coincidence? What if you find out that your mom checked out before mine even got there, or our paths never could have crossed, or there were twenty babies born that day and there’s no sure way to know that we are each other’s soulmates? What if you find out that your soulmark said two years and mine ran out with someone else completely?”

“You’re starting to sound like Virgil,” Roman said quietly, almost fondly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“Roman, if you’re my soulmate, I’d be elated,” Janus’ hushed tone matched his, “But I don’t know what I’ll do if I build my hope and then find out it’s not true.” They were quiet again, and Janus was suddenly hyper aware that he was still holding Roman’s hands, a furious blush rising to his cheeks. He fought the urge to look away, look anywhere other than Roman’s bright eyes, because this was the closest they’d ever been and he was scared one flinch might break the charm they were in.

“We don’t have to check,” the taller whispered, “If you are, I’m content just… believing it.”

“You always were a cheesy romantic.” The phrase was meant to be cutting, but the uncontainable grin across his face greatly lessened its impact.

“I’m a Disney lover, what can I say?”

Janus snorted, dropping his head on to Roman’s shoulder, his heart nearly stopping altogether when the taller boy wrapped his arms around him and pulled them a step closer together. “So we’re agreeing on this? That we’re soulmates?” His voice was muffled against Roman’s shirt.

“As far as I’m concerned, yes. Fuck the system, right?”

“Overthrow the government. Commit arson in the name of anarchy. Society is a prison.”

“Dramatic, and that’s coming from me,” Roman drawled, rocking them back and forth slowly, dancing to unheard music, “Hey, Janus?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#tsshipmonth2020 #lywrites #roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #ts soulmate au #soulmate september #soulmateseptember #tw abuse #tw neglect

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missskzbiased · 3 years

Text

The Three Lessons (3)

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fluff, Witch! Au, Love Triangle

Pairing: Chan X Fem! Reader X Seungmin

Word Count: ~13,8K

(The First) (The Second) (The Third)

Warnings: (Mild) Mentions of [Death, Burned Witches, food, blood/battling(?)]

Notes: Finally here! Sorry for the delay but I got blocked, then busy and well! At least, it’s finally here! LOL

I’d like to hear your thoughts on this. If you guys liked the plot/expected the stuff and things like this! Thank you for reading/rb’ing/commenting/sending asks and stuff! <3

Tagging: @p2q3r4 @thatrandomoneinthecorner

////

CHAPTER 3: The Third Lesson

It has been four months already.

The fateful night when you ran away from your home ─ Well, your former home ─ still hovered over your thoughts from time to time, haunting you during your day-to-day life activities as baking the bread you were just making, kneading the dough with much more force than needed. The thick and malleable piece slowly sprawled over the counter as you stopped in your tracks, studying how it relaxed on the surface until it didn’t move anymore ─ Soft and still, just like the limp body of your Grandma on the ground ─, and you felt the urge to cry all over again.

You missed her.

You raised your head to stop the tears from falling, looking up and blinking multiple times until the urge to cry morphed into crushing regret that tightened your heart by the second, making you sigh heavily before lowering your gaze to the window. The reflection on the glass showed you a gloomy girl with flour painting her cheeks and forehead in a silly way that couldn’t brighten up your mood even if you forced a smile to plaster on her face, so you settled for lowering your eyes to your hands, resting above the bread.

The flour painted both of your hands white, and for a split of a second, the dusty white turned into a damp red, covering your hands in blood just like that night, sending a shiver down your spine. You were a murderer. The flickering thought vanished as soon as Seungmin’s paled shocked face struck your memories, reminding you how he trembled as he took your hands on his, studying the dry blood on them filled with horror, certain that you have just killed someone.

You want me to hide a body?! His voice sounded on your mind, making you chuckle and shake your head in amusement. The amusement had dissolved into heartbreak at the time, and you broke into tears, startling the younger boy who rushed you inside, looking around to check if someone had seen anything before closing the door. That night, Seungmin sat with you on the floor, rubbing your hands and face with a wet cloth until the blood ─ that later he came to know that was from your hunt ─ came off of your body, rocking you to soothe you through your breakdown.

“Hey, Bunny Bun, how is it going?” You turned around to meet the known face of Seungmin’s father, a fine man that allowed you to stay without a second thought ─ which raised a lot of questions from Seungmin, who seemed fixed to the idea that you had enchanted him somehow ─, and had been treating you like a daughter since then. He approached you, tearing off a small piece from the dough and molding it between his palms, pinching it to form two long ears, just like a rabbit before throwing it for you to catch.

The joke began when you saw a bun for the first time in your life.

You had looked at him all filled with curiosity, watching as he kneaded the dough, and he chuckled at your antics, glancing at you once in a while before making a bunny out of nowhere and throwing it in your direction, startling you. The way you hopped, catching the piece and smashing it between your hands unintentionally, made him laugh wholeheartedly, studying your sheepish smile before he patted your shoulder reassuringly.

It’s too soon for bunnies to hop, don’t you think? He joked, knowing that you were too sleepy and your reflexes were nothing but rusty at the time. You laughed at this, and somehow it became your thing… Just making bunny jokes around in the morning as you baked your bun. It felt like you were family, loved and cared for, and truly accepted… Just like the lesson predicted… You were right to stick to your kind.

“I’m almost done, Mr.Kim!” You said with a small smile, trying to cover up your sadness “We will have some delicious bread for the customers” You promised, resuming your previous actions, starting to tear off the pieces to mold them.

“I wish Seungmin was an early bird like you” He confessed, chuckling as he stood beside you to help you out with your baking “I’m glad you’re here… You’re very welcome to this family, I hope you know that” He glanced at you, clearing his throat “And… How is it going? Are you both getting along well?” He asked awkwardly, and this time you chuckled, looking at him by the corner of your eyes.

“We’re just fine, Sir” You guaranteed “We’re acting like cousins just like you instructed and we’ve been getting along pretty well… For about four months already” You smiled, mocking him about his concerns. He smiled back, nodding in understanding and sighing in relief, seeming satisfied by your answer as he molded the loaves of bread far more quickly than you, more used to it, with no concrete pattern, just a bunch of animal-shaped stuff that followed no rules.

The only rule on the house was not to be romantically involved.

You could remember your first day at the bakery ─ shaky hands and stiffened body giving away how nervous you were ─ and how you darted your eyes at every customer that came in, alarmed that someone could simply recognize that you were raised by a witch. Silly thought. Seungmin ─ as the sweetest human being on Earth ─ noticed how you were about to combust at any moment and simply stuck together with you, helping you out in absolutely every single thing you did until you got more comfortable.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

The moment the old lady ─ a faithful client who you treated by Miss ─ came into the place, she looked at you filled with interest, eyes studying you from head to toe before smiling approvingly. She rested a small box on the counter, tilting her head as she looked into your eyes, before looking at Seungmin with a suggestive look. She braced herself on the counter, looking at Mr.Kim excitedly and gesturing for him to get closer before finally speaking up.

So little Seungmin finally got a fiancé? I never saw you around! She chuckled, taking your hand between hers. It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m their best customer and also their lucky charm! She joked, patting the back of your hand. You threw her a desperate smile, darting your eyes between her and Mr.Kim before opening your mouth, ready to agree with her to get out of the situation.

Oh, no! She’s his cousin! He hurried to say as soon as he recovered from his shock. My brother got really ill and… Well, we thought it would be better for her to come live with me instead of staying in her village… He lied, lowering his eyes to fake sadness, though the uncomfortableness was true.

Oh! I didn’t know you have a brother! She hid her open mouth with her hands, eyes wide as she looked at you surprised before pity took over her. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart… If I knew I would have sent him some of these too... She shook the box in the air, and you could tell something hard was inside it.

The woman opened the box to reveal two small bottles filled with a flower ─ that you identified as rosemary ─, some thin things that looked like pins and needles and a dark liquid that looked a lot like blood. You frowned, utterly confused by the utility of such a gross thing, yelping as the woman randomly tugged some strands of Seungmin and his father’s hair, tossing it inside each bottle ─ that opened smelled heavily like alcohol mixed with some kind of grape juice ─ before closing them and handing it to each one of them.

She laughed at your baffled expression, hitting your shoulder lightly as she threw her head back, delighted by you. She got her hands on her hips before tilting her head and looking at you playfully, smiling kindly as she explained that it was a witch-bottle. You frowned again, looking at them cautiously to check if you should know what it was about, and the lady was quick to explain that it was a kind of protection that her family had been doing for ages and having incredible results regarding safety.

Your uncle is too unlucky, poor thing… To be married to a witch and being cursed to be alone for the rest of his life… She sighed, looking at him filled with pity. At least I can do something about it, right? It’s a pleasure to keep you safe from those monsters! I should make one for you too, Sweetheart! Next month, I will bring it for the three of you!

You shook your head to get out of your thoughts ─ brushing your hair with your fingers as you reminded how the woman had no mercy to take off those strands from your scalp ─, noticing how Mr.Kim arched his brows in a silent question, chuckling as you shrank as if you had been caught red-handed. You placed the molded pieces on the paddle, pretending you didn’t notice his look, and placing it inside the oven for them to bake.

The fire painted their surface in an orangish light, and you stood there staring at them, drowning in the knowledge that you would never tell him that you were a witch, just like the one who destroyed his life. He placed his hand on your shoulder, smiling at you and looking proudly at the buns, humming in approval for your teamwork, and you forced a smile back at him before returning your gaze to the fire.

Maybe one day he’d wish for you to be just like those bunny buns.

/////

You felt small and lost.

You could recognize the oval square even if you had your eyes closed, having dreamed of it every single day of your life ─ the place where the nameless woman was burned to death ─ but this time there was no stake to be seen and no witch to be burned. The crowded place was bright and noisy; the lively music being played was mixing with the villagers’ chatting and sellers’ yelling, morphing into a loud buzz that bewildered you.

The swinging pieces of meat hung on the hooks, the fresh smell of fruits and vegetables filling your nostrils, and all other kinds of things to be sold left no doubt: The market was being held.

You held someone’s hand as you walked, head swiveling to take in everything that was happening around you, feeling overwhelmed as people bumped into you and the mass of fluttering fabrics passed in front of your eyes, darkening the bright place for a while. The feeling didn’t last much, though. The person guiding you finally stopped on a booth, bringing back the brightness and the peace you craved, before letting go of your hand to look for something.

You lifted your head, fondness spreading in your heart as you looked at them.

Faceless.

You didn’t seem to mind it in the dream, catching a citric scent in the air that distracted you, prompting you to look at the booth and extend your hand to pick up the round orange right in front of your eyes. You tried to grab it once, fingers slipping on its peel, and then you used both hands, holding it like if it was your whole world for a few seconds before giggling happily.

That must be the biggest orange in the world because it didn’t even fit in your hands.

You played with it a little bit, ignoring the voices above your head and focusing solely on how the texture felt on your palms, groping it and spinning it over and over again as if it would give you some kind of answer. The voices began to sound clearer on the back of your head, sounding upset and assertive, both the seller and your guide quarreling about something you couldn’t understand. The seller snapped, and you caught something like frustration and jealousy in the air before he slammed the surface with anger.

You got startled, yelping and jumping as you snapped your eyes at the man.

Then everything happened too fast.

First, you felt the orange off your palms, floating slightly above them, and you widened your eyes, very aware that it was an unforgivable mistake. Second, the guide’s hand snapped to the fruit, grabbing it in a flustered manner. Third, the man pointed at them, filled with rage and despise.

Then he roared.

“She’s a witch!” He accused, and the orange fell to the ground, rolling away “She first seduced the baker, and now this?!” You didn’t know what he meant by this, and neither did the men who came to restrain her out of nowhere, tugging her arms back as she struggled to get away from their grip.

“He’s lying! It’s a lie!” She yelled in despair, trying to swing her limbs but being brutally held back “I’m not a witch!” She howled, and even if you couldn’t see the tears streaming down her face, you could hear it in her soul. The crowd gasped and cleared the way, terrified and curious, gathering around them to watch the woman being lifted off of the ground; legs kicking and jerking to hit whoever tried to handle her.

“Take off her boots!” Someone screamed, and the man held her neck, choking her to take her under his control.

You moved, trying to go closer to her, but someone held your arm firmly ─ though you could feel their hand was trembling in fear ─, and the next thing you know was that her legs were being held tight. They yanked her boots, exposing her bare feet, raising her sole for everyone to see.

That was the first time you could actually see something in your dreams.

Crooked whitish scars carved on her feet like high-relief waves.

She was a witch.

You felt your blood run cold; the grip on your arm disappeared and you snapped your eyes to the woman, feeling pity wash over you as you realized what was happening. You were seeing how the faceless woman was condemned as a witch, fated to burn to the ground… She looked right into your eyes, the fog that prevented you to see her face wavered in the air, dissolving suddenly and prompting everyone to gasp in shock.

This was the first time you could see her face.

Your face.

You shot your eyes open, gasping for air, realizing someone was hovering over you ─ a blurry face right in front of yours, indistinguishable on your drowsy state ─ and before you could focus your eyes on them, their hands grabbed your shoulders firmly, startling you. They squeezed your shoulders, and you jolted your limbs, waggling them around to guarantee your freedom as you felt the grip tightening around you, their arms shaking your body.

“No, please!” You bawled, struggling to get away from their hands “Seungmin! Mr.Kim! Help! Help!” You shouted, desperate as you finally got rid of their hands, jolting out of the bed to head to the window, ready to jump out of it and run away. You fumbled to open it, and the person rushed at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you back forcefully.

“Wait!” Seungmin pleaded, strangled voice sounding in the air like a squeak “What are you doing?! It’s me!” His voice sounded right beside your ears, and for the first time, you tried to really look at him, glancing over your shoulder to meet his eyes right in front of yours. You sighed in relief ─ fear vanishing to give way to tiredness ─ and your relaxed expression morphed into an exasperated one before you hit his chest angrily.

“What the hell, Seungmin?” You asked upset, uncovering your eyes to shoot him a glare “Who wakes someone up like a bloody ghost haunting the house, you son of a—“ He laughed, hands on his hips as he tilted his head, eyes glinting in mockery.

“Oh, Seungmin! Help! Help!” He chanted, chuckling as you blushed, looking away in embarrassment “And now you call me names? Spare me!” He smirked, letting you go to sit on your bed before pinching his chin “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked curiously, eyes less playful and more concerned now.

“What tipped you off?” You teased, walking towards your bed to sit beside him “To tell you the truth, the dream changed…” You muttered, unsure about what to say. It was just a dream, right? Should you bother him with it? You darted your eyes to him before settling them straight ahead “I saw the woman’s face… She was me” You glanced at him, insecure, and he snapped his eyes at you, clearly disturbed by what you had just said.

“Oh” He bit his lip before lowering his eyes to his hands, intertwined on his lap “I had a dream too and… Well, I saw you at the stake” He glanced at you, and you felt as if the entire world had just stopped. You stared at him, completely expressionless as the shock drenched your mind “But— I mean! You know that my dreams aren’t always clear, right? It can mean literally anything!” He tried to reassure you, and you blinked at him.

“What else could it mean? You saw me burning at the stake, Seungmin” You stated calmly, though your insides were twisting “My dreams aren’t usually this clear… Someone will accuse me at the market place and I’ll be burned” You stared at him blankly; your features unmatching to the thousand thoughts that ran wild inside your head or the tight knot forming in your throat, making you unable to say anything else.

An odd feeling of acceptance tried to spread through your body.

You were going to die.

That was it.

“You’re not going to die” He assured you, squeezing your hand in an attempt to soothe you, though his trembling hinted that he wasn’t much better himself “I mean… I had already tons of dreams that didn’t happen for real! It’s just a coincidence… Absolutely no one suspects you right now, not even dad! There is no way—“ You sighed, patting his hand on your lap, looking at him as if you had been already defeated.

“There is nothing we can do about it” You shrugged “I had this dream every single day of my life, Seungmin… Deep down I knew what was bound to happen” You offered him a small smile, squeezing his hand back “Also, the third lesson is clear as the day… Do not bond with humans, their feelings are flickering as flames and will burn you to the ground” You recited, glancing at him “It’s your fault for loving me, you know?” You joked, and he pushed you lightly.

“It’s not the time to be funny” He rolled his eyes “Especially when you’re not funny at all” He pointed out, chuckling when you slapped his shoulder playfully “That lesson doesn’t make any sense anyway, our feelings for you are deep and we won’t let you die” He promised, and this time you offered him a real smile, resting your head on his shoulder “You’re part of this family now and I don’t care whatever your grandma taught you before, we’re going to make through this” He rested his head on top of yours, remaining silent for a few minutes.

The silence was reassuring, and you closed your eyes, breathing deeply.

“Do you want to stay home today? I can go to the market by myself” He suggested, lifting his head to look at you, and you mimicked him, shaking your head.

“It’s better to act as usual” You denied “Whatever has to happen will happen, so staying home will not help me at all” He nodded, looking through the window, and you followed his gaze “Will you stay by my side when it happens?” You asked quietly, and he pursed his lips, eyes darkening as he lowered his head.

“If it happens” He corrected you sternly, and you nodded, holding his gaze in expectation “I won’t let it happen” He stated, averting his eyes and getting up from his bed “Some dreams are just dreams” He guaranteed, faking a smile at you, which you returned with an understanding nod and tight lips.

Seungmin’s dreams weren’t just dreams.

Those four months were more than enough for you to know that Seungmin wasn’t a mere human… You didn’t know if he had a witch ancestry, if Nature just seemed to have a liking to him or if the spirit of his deceased mother spoke to him while he slept, but Seungmin had a gift.

He had premonitory dreams.

The day he drank from the river was the first time he actually acted on those dreams, intrigued by a woman ─ that not so coincidentally looked just like you ─ calling him to the woods, tracing a path that headed to a precarious village. You were smart enough to assume that it was The Haven, and he was being guided to meet The Coven ─ more specifically you ─ but got lost in the woods, tricked by its enchantments. The dream didn’t show him any rivers but as soon as he found it, all lost and tired, he drank from it and the rest… Well, he was lucky you were around.

Actually, you were meant to be around.

Meant to be in each other’s life.

“Now let’s go! Get your ass out of the bed and let’s shop! Your birthday is coming and I have to buy you a gift, right?” He said in a feigned cheerful tone, interrupting your thoughts, and you nodded, getting up from the bed and picking up your coat ─ Chan’s coat ─ to throw around your own shoulders “Hm… This is kinda old, right?” He asked unsurely, eyeing the coat warily.

“Well, it’s the only one I have” You chuckled “Also, I know you just don’t like it because it belonged to Chan” You rolled your eyes, arms going through the sleeves to keep you warm. You held each front of your coat, wrapping them tightly around you, drowning in the warmth and the faint smell that reminded you of home ─ former home ─, studying carefully the worn-out brown filled with fondness.

“He was ready to kill me” He pointed out matter-of-factly, brows raised to make his point “I think I have more than enough of a reason to hold a grudge against him” You laughed wholeheartedly, nodding in agreement “But that’s not the point! The winter is coming and you need to keep warm” You opened your mouth before closing it, holding back a joke about your cruel fate “This coat won’t be enough for you… Maybe I should buy you a new one?” He mused, and you shrugged.

“I don’t see the point if I have this one” You admitted, and he rolled his eyes, heading to the door to open it and turning back to stare at you unimpressed. The cold weather seemed to freeze your face for a second, making you sneeze and shake your head vehemently to push away the feeling before scrunching your nose repeatedly, looking at Seungmin.

“See? You’re weak to the winter” He chuckled, throwing his arm around your shoulders playfully, closing the door behind him to head to the oval square. The motion reminded you of how your Grandma used to wrap you in her arms before guiding you into the woods, teasing you about a certain warlock. You sighed, remembering how he just shrugged off that you gave away the very same coat you were wearing right now, even if he had it since he was a child… How he asked you on a date to that very same market you were wandering around.

“So it’s settled! We’ll buy some fruits for your cake and then we’ll buy your coat” He decided, pleased with his plans, and once more getting you away from your thoughts. You walked side by side, heading to the booth you always bought your stuff from, studying the surroundings to see if you could spot better prices.

You didn’t.

But you spotted Caeli.

That wasn’t the first time that you spotted Caeli on the streets. The Elder had been coming by herself every month ─ probably to buy some groceries to The Coven ─, and each time you followed her with your eyes, wondering why your grandma wasn’t with her. You should know why. You killed her. You lowered your gaze, quickening your pace to be followed by a confused Seungmin, looking around to spot whatever made you like this.

“Did you see someone from your dream?” He whispered worried, and you shook your head, bumping into someone in your eagerness to reach for the booth “Oh, sorry! We didn’t pay atten—“ Seungmin stopped on his tracks, his apologetic expression morphing into a frown. You raised your head to apologize, and as soon as your eyes met you felt your head spinning. The air seemed to vanish from your lungs, heart bursting inside your chest and lips drying as you widened your eyes, flabbergasted.

How long! How have you been?

I’m sorry…

I miss you.

“Hi…” You said instead, awkwardly looking at him in a lack for better words “Chan” You added, hugging yourself as you averted your eyes from him, biting your lips. You felt Seungmin’s hold getting tighter, pulling you closer to him as he straightened his back to look somewhat threatening. You peeked at him, confused, before returning your gaze to Chan, who didn’t even spare him a glance, eyes fixed on you for the entire time.

“Hey” He muttered, holding your gaze for a few seconds before averting his eyes ─ the tension too uncomfortable do bear ─, staring at Seungmin’s hand on your shoulder “You’re using my coat” He mentioned bluntly, unsure about what to say, and you nodded, looking away “The winter… Yeah” He trailed off, cringing at himself.

Seungmin scoffed before suddenly reaching for your coat, trying to take it off, and you looked at him filled with confusion but complied anyway, extending your arms to help him out. The boy crumpled the coat to form a ball of fabric before pushing it on Chan’s hand, a serious expression on his face as his penetrating gaze fixed on Chan’s eyes in a silent warning. Chan took the coat, bewildered, looking at him questioningly before Seungmin gave him a tight smile.

“I’m going to buy a new one for her” He announced, waiting for his answer but Chan just stared at him, hands clutching the piece, and jaw clenching before he forced his lips to quirk on an odd smile “You can have it back… Thank you for your coat” Seungmin sounded upset for some reason, and you frowned, feeling lost about what made him act like that.

“Great” Chan hugged his coat; glancing at you with hurt written all over his face “I’m glad you guys are getting along just fine” He lied, lips quivering to maintain his fake smile “I…” He closed his mouth, looking at you filled with something you couldn’t put your finger on, eyes wavering before he looked away “We miss you” He concluded, clearing his throat before lifting his head.

I miss you too.

“It’s already done” You said sympathetically “I’m home now… And you guys are too” You forced a smile, and he nodded, resentful eyes focusing on you “I’m sorry for…” You gulped down, eyes darting away before returning to him “I’m sorry” You trailed off, and he nodded once more, lowering his head again, unable to look at you.

“Well… I wish you the best” He finally said, refusing to fix his gaze on you, eyes wandering somewhere above your shoulder “I hope you can be happy here… And maybe we can bump into each other again” He chuckled, though it sounded more like a cough, and Seungmin grabbed your shoulder, rolling his eyes as he locked his gaze with Chan.

“All the three of us know you’re lying” Seungmin pointed out boldly, surprising both of you “Don’t give her false hopes if you won’t act on your words…” He scoffed, looking away as he poked his cheek “You could have done something! You’re just a coward that would let her –“ You grabbed Seungmin’s wrist, throwing him a look so he would stop talking, and he bit his lip, looking at you distressed.

The silence fell heavy upon you.

The three of you glanced at each other, unsure about what to do now. Seungmin crossed his arms, clenching his jaw before uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists on each side of his body, nose scrunching slightly as he looked at Chan. You darted your eyes between them, tightening your grip around his wrist and clutching his sleeve with your free hand, concern written all over your face. Chan twisted his lips down, focusing on your hands on Seungmin’s arm for a second before he averted his eyes, furrowing his brows in a pained expression, upper lip trembling slightly.

“Chan! I think I found something interesting!” Caeli called, and the three of you snapped your heads at her, the tension shattering for a moment “Oh…” She blurted, looking at you, but before she could say anything else Chan strode her way without looking back. He placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly before he walked straight ahead, and she held your gaze for a few seconds, conflicted, before giving up and following him.

“What was that all about?” You asked upset, releasing Seungmin from your grip in a rough motion, eyes aimed at him accusatorily. He kept his eyes on the path they traced, frowning, before he finally turned them to you, grimacing unsatisfied as he looked into your eyes seeming bitter about it all.

“He’s a coward” He spat angrily “He doesn’t deserve you” He added, locking his arm with yours so you could continue your shopping “All of them… They could have done something” He sighed “They just chose to do nothing” He said, looking at you resentfully, eyes holding so much sadness that it just clicked.

They would just watch as you burned.

/////

At first, you thought you were hearing voices.

You shoved your hands into your new coat’s pockets, nodding as Seungmin kept blabbering about how he helped his father to bake your birthday cake, feeling all proud because it turned out to be pretty tasty and he was sure you would love it. You laughed wholeheartedly, congratulating him for finally being able to wake up before you, excitedly guessing what Mr.Kim would be fixing for lunch as you made your way back home. The conversation flowed well enough until you heard your grandma’s voice resounding inside your head, prompting you to look around the place, confused with the situation.

Maybe you were just hearing things.

Eighteen years, put some sense into your head! You shot your eyes up, alarmed, head snapping at Seungmin to search for any signs that he heard it too but he kept guessing the dishes, completely oblivious to the voice. It’s not the time to play house! It’s dangerous! She yelled, clearly upset, and you stopped in your tracks, head swiveling to see if you could spot her in the crowd but she was nowhere to be seen.

Of course, she wasn’t… She was dead.

“… Or maybe he bought those potatoes to –“ He interrupted his train of thoughts abruptly, glancing at you, noticing that you seemed too far away from your conversation right now “Everything okay? You look like a ghost” He pointed out, nudging you so you would look at him and voice your concerns.

They will burn her at the stake! You winced under the intensity of her tone, ducking your head into your shoulders as you looked slowly to left and then to right, getting a look from Seungmin, who seemed to think that you had lost your last straw of sanity.

“Did you hear it?” You whispered, and he looked at you as if you had grown a third head “It’s… Her voice” You muttered, grabbing his shoulder to get some support, feeling your legs going weak “I think Wiha is alive… And I think she’s here” You felt a lump in your throat, obliging you to force the words to come out as you felt the world spinning around.

You stumbled over your feet but Seungmin quickly adjusted himself to catch you by the waist, hand darting to cup your cheek as he tried to catch your gaze, searching for some sign that you were still here with him. You opened and closed your mouth a bunch of times ─ a string of voice coming out from you but no sentences being said ─, worrying him by the second and prompting him to shake you lightly to get you out from your stupor.

“She’s dead” He assured you, patting your face continuously to get your attention “It must have something to do with your memories… You said yourself that your birthday could worsen it” He reminded you, tone careful and eyes attentive on your figure. You nodded, finally focusing your gaze on him, the dryness on your throat still making you unable to answer him.

She’s gonna die just like her! Is that what you want, son?! She yelled on your head, and this time dizziness wasn’t the only thing you felt. The feelings boiling inside your chest didn’t have a name or a form in your head; it was only a mix of sensations that fogged your mind and spun your stomach, prompting you to clench your fists and your jaw as you felt the resentment burning into your body before dissolving into anger.

Don’t you dare to blame me! It was your fault for being a coward! You widened your eyes as Mr.Kim’s voice sounded inside your head; snapping your eyes to Seungmin and slapping his chest lightly a bunch of times to get his attention, making him whine and try to get away from you.

“She’s with your father” You stated, gasping as you looked at him flabbergasted before sprinting. He couldn’t even react as you ran for dear life, leaving the startled boy behind for a few moments before he mimicked you, running the best he could. You ran as if your life depended on it ─ lungs burning and muscles screaming for some mercy as you forced yourself not to cry, putting a lot more effort into your sprint than necessary ─, without even noticing how the wind startled to whistle around you.

The gale built up quickly ─ just like the turmoil inside you ─, and suddenly things around you startled to twirl in the air as your hair whipped your face vigorously, and the torrent of thoughts stormed inside your head. There were so many questions you had to make! So many things you had to know! You couldn’t believe she was alive! She had been alive for four months while you thought you were some kind of murderer!

How was she?!

Why didn’t she contact you earlier?!

Why wasn’t she contacting you now?

Why was she yelling at your host instead of looking for you…?

Four months… Four months to tell you that you weren’t a murderer… Four months and none of them told you anything. They just kept you in the dark like… Like you weren’t one of them anymore. Well, you kinda got yourself into it. That was what you asked for after all… You didn’t think you belonged there anymore and, clearly, they didn’t think it either.

So why was she here?

I wasn’t being a coward! I was protecting The Coven! I was protecting my family! She sounded distressed, voice overflowing with anger and frustration as she roared each sentence as if she had said it a million times already ─ maybe to convince herself or maybe to convince someone else ─ and still couldn’t get it across. You kept your pace, stumbling over your feet as you spotted your house ahead, ignoring Seungmin’s screams for you to slow down and giving everything you had inside you to get there, to finally see her with your own eyes once more.

Protecting your family?! I’m your family, mother! You should be protecting my wife! You should be protecting your granddaughter! He howled as soon as you reached the front door. You froze, hand on the doorknob and eyes wide as saucers as you let your mouth fall agape, breathing sharply “If you can’t recall it, she died! She died because instead of saving her you chose to kidnap my daughter and leave my wife to burn at the stake! You chose them! And you can’t blame me for choosing her now!” He grunted, his voice raising by the second.

It was like everything inside you had just stopped the middle way.

The wind around you seemed to flinch, the heavy silence that followed its previous buzz made your head empty, almost like you were too hollow to even sense anything right now. You trembled from head to toes, hands fumbling to turn the doorknob and finally give you access to your living room as you dragged your feet, forcing yourself in. Empty. You felt your heart racing in your chest; the flickering thoughts on your mind accused you of a million things but the only one you could hold on to for the time being was that you were crazy.

You must be crazy.

“Do you think that was what I wanted?” She muttered; voice faltering, too heavy with the weight of her regret “If not her it would be all of us, son… My duty wasn’t with her… It was with all of us” She continued, and this time you could tell the voices came from the kitchen, letting out a relieved sigh “I must protect all of us even if it means someone has to be left behind” You heard Seungmin right next to you, and you snapped your head to him, a finger placed on your lips asking for some silence, getting a confused tilting of the head from the boy.

“Interesting thing that the only one you wanted to leave behind was a human” He scoffed, and Seungmin shot his head up, following your gaze to the kitchen as he heard the grudge on his father’s voice “Interesting that you didn’t leave my daughter behind! You took her away from me! And for what?!” He yelled, smacking the table before breathing deeply, trying to recompose himself “Look, it’s not my fault you couldn’t take care of her… You failed, mom” He sighed tiredly at the same time you and Seungmin peeked over the doorframe “You failed at protecting every single one of us… And now she’s with me… My bunny bun came back to me and I won’t let you take her away again” The flickering figure of your grandmother faced Mr.Kim filled with resentment, face contorted on a hurt grimace that even the low-quality energy projection couldn’t hide.

You felt Seungmin flinching right next to you.

You felt your knees giving away as you supported yourself on the doorframe.

You felt like the entire world just disconnected from your body.

“I will do what you never could… I’ll protect my family” He announced, oblivious to both of his children flabbergasted at the door, and you brought your hand to your chest, feeling all the air vanishing from your lungs “Now tell Isati to stop this goddamn projection and stop bothering me!” He continued, and not even Seungmin’s hold was enough for your legs to support you “I have a birthday to spend with my daughter for the first time in sixteen years and you won’t take this away from me again” You fell on your knees, the loud thud finally getting their attention.

Their eyes snapped at your figure on the floor, alarmed.

Seungmin kneeled beside you, trying to hold your shoulders to convey some kind of comfort as he stole some glances at both of the figures standing in the kitchen, taken aback by everything he had just listened to. You lifted your wavering eyes to Wiha’s figure, opening and closing your mouth at a loss for words, before glancing to Mr.Kim ─ your father ─ with tears streaming down your face, shrinking, your whole body shaking in shock as you tried to make sense of everything you just heard.

Wiha kidnapped you and took away your memories.

Mr.Kim was your father and he hid it from you.

Your mother was burned at the stake.

“My dreams… They’re about my mother? It was never about me? ” You asked on a string of voice, eyes fixed on the floor as the realization hit you “Why?” You grunted, lifting your eyes to glare at them, enraged “Why did you hide it from me?! Why?!” You howled, clenching your fists as you smacked the floor, face twisted in disgust “It was my fault, wasn’t it?!” You yelled, getting up, snapping your head at your father before looking at Wiha “She died because of me, didn’t she?! You hid it from me because I was the one to blame, wasn’t it?!” You demanded to know when you met their silence, scoffing as they stared at you speechless.

“We don’t know” Wiha rushed to say but your father snorted incredulously.

“She didn’t do anything” He hissed, glaring at her “It wasn’t her fault!” She looked at him tiredly, and you noticed for the first time how she seemed to have aged on these past few months everything she didn’t on this past few years “It wasn’t her fault! You don’t know what happened!” He insisted, and this time she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Neither do you” She stated matter-of-factly “The only one who knows what happened now is her” She looked at you, and you couldn’t help but grimace, laughing humorlessly as if she had said a great joke.

“Yeah, if you hadn’t taken away my memories!” You sneered, and she nodded in resignation. You groaned, pulling your hair in frustration before letting it go and glaring at her “And you don’t even care! Why the hell are you here anyway?! You don’t care about me! You don’t care about your son! You didn’t care about my mother! You don’t care about anyone!” You yelled, gesturing exasperatedly as you let all your rage unravel “You only care about yourself and your damn lessons and that damn coven!” You groaned, feeling the tears coming back to your eyes.

“Y/N, calm down” She demanded, looking around worriedly “You’re gonna get unwanted attention” She warned, watching how the wind started to twirl again, the gale forming against your will and lifting the furniture that smashed on the walls and crushed in smaller pieces that kept hitting everything around.

“Y/N, calm down!” You scorned, a mocking tone that dripped sarcasm “Y/N, don’t forget the lessons!” You sing-sang, scoffing “Y/N, do this! Y/N, do that! Y/N, listen to me!” You howled, clenching your jaw as you tried to stop your tears, punching the doorframe so the pain would bring your mind back in place “I’m not your puppet! You can’t play with me forever!” You screamed, glaring at her “I won’t go back to you! Try kidnapping me again and erasing my memories if you’re so worried about me!” You laughed, pressing your eyes to calm down.

“I did what was best for all of us” She croaked “I was protecting you! I’m trying to protect you now” She assured, eyes prickling with tears “Please, calm down… They will come to check on you… They will see it” She gestured around “You’re gonna burn” She wailed, approaching you.

“So they’re gonna burn with me” You hissed “We can only have two culprits… It was either me or them, right? So let us both burn to death” You decided, eyes overflowing with rage as you made your way outside. You ignored their voices behind you, asking you to calm down, and their attempts to get closer to you to hold you back, feeling all the turmoil inside you oozing from each pore of your body in an outburst you never had before.

The wind around you clicked and crackled on your ears, engulfing you on an endless twirling and pushing everything away, clearing your way as you headed to the oval square. The villagers ran around the place ─ terrified of your figure slowly raising from the ground, supported by the whirlwind under your frame ─, and some of them were brutally wiped by the turmoil, crashing against the floor or the walls and falling unconscious to the ground, enticing screams and cries for help all around.

“Y/N, stop it!” You heard Seungmin scream on top of his lungs, trying to fight the wind wall that pushed him away “You have to calm down!” He continued but you didn’t pay any attention to his pleads, raising your hand to hit people with a huff of air “You’re better than that! Don’t do it!” He begged, and this time you glanced at him, watching as he squirmed under your powers.

“They don’t deserve my mercy!” You roared, gesticulating vehemently to keep the wind whipping everyone around, tossing people away “They killed and hunted us for ages!” You added, grunting, snapping your head around to look for new targets “It’s their time to suffer! It’s their time to die!” You cried, raising yourself even more to get a better look around the place.

Terror was all you could see.

A giggle resounded on your right ─ soft and distant like a twinkling fairy ─, and you snapped your head, reaching out to take down whoever was taking your rage lightly but meeting no one in sight. You swiveled your head, searching for the source of these giggles but everytime you blasted your power in their directions, there was no one on the receiving end of your fury. You gestured blindly to hit them, flustered by the situation as you couldn’t spot anyone apart from the people who were already in the ground, whimpering.

Hey, Bunny Bun! The voice faltered, thin like a string in the air, and for the first time, you met someone in your sight. Hop, hop to the hole! It’s time to go home, let’s go! The wavering image showed your father laughing, offering his hand to someone behind him that you couldn’t see. The giggles sounded once more, even more distant this time, and the scene dissolved into the air as if it never displayed in front of you, to begin with.

You stumbled over your whirlwind, losing your balance for a split of a second.

It’s too soon for bunnies to hop! A woman groaned jokingly, and you turned around to see her running your way, obviously pretending to put some effort into it to catch someone right in front of her, enticing once more the giggles. You faltered once more, body almost falling to the ground as you lowered yourself, wind flickering around you as if it was about to give in at any moment.

It felt like your head was about to explode.

Mom! You turned around once more but there was nothing to be seen, just the screaming voice cracking at the end, choked by their own emotions. They sounded miserable and hurt, and you could almost hear their struggle as they repeated it over and over again before a whisper caught your attention.

Sleep…The buzzing inside your mind could either be because of those voices or from the enchantment you could hear clearly on the air, the raspy tune from your Grandmother scratching the back of your mind, just like a memory you couldn’t really recall but you tried to. Somehow, you just knew in the bottom of your heart what it was about… It was from the day she kidnapped you… The day your mother was burned.

It was all the air inside your lungs just vanished right there.

The twirling wind sounded like a whistling kettle, taking over your senses and overwhelming you, and the endless turmoil inside your chest seemed to take your breath away, forming a lump on your throat and suffocating you. The sound of the giggles and voices kept playing on a loop inside your mind, sounding softer and even more distant by the second, almost like you were losing your consciousness, slowly sliding to your death. The dizziness overtook your senses, and before you knew it, the darkness engulfed you and dragged you down on a spiraling endless fall.

You were going to burn to the ends of hell.

////

The slap on your face brought you back to life.

The darkness dissolved into blurriness as you opened your eyes, duplicated images jumbling right in front of you and making it impossible to figure out what was happening at first. You felt your head heavy, hanging to the side before you could try to straighten up but failing as it hung forward with a bob, startling you. You tried to adjust your vision, blinking repeatedly as you widened and rolled your eyes, feeling your head spinning while hearing an endless ringing in your ears.

You felt like a piece of trash.

The next thing you realized was that your limbs were bent back, tied around a wood pillar, immobilizing you in an uncomfortable position that gave freedom only to your head. You tried to jerk your shoulders, a vain attempt to release yourself, and not only your weak motions weren’t enough to free you but also your bad behavior was met with a harsh blow on your stomach. You hunch your back by reflex, the restraints holding you in place and pressing against your tender flesh, hurting you.

The pain helped to awaken your senses.

“By the power vested in me!” Someone’s voice rang in your mind, yelling to the crowd, and you finally got to turn your head, staring blankly at them “I declare this woman as guilty of witchcraft and wizardry!” He announced, and the crowd cheered, croaking and growling before the man raised his hands in a silent ask to continue, “The witch may pay for her sins burning at the stake!” He declared, and the hooraying increased.

You lowered your head, meeting the straw around your feet on the wooden platform where you were standing, displayed like a piece of meat to be roasted. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, sighing as you took everything in. You were going to die ─ just like in Seungmin’s dream ─, and it was your entire fault. The emptiness you felt that day drenched into your bones once more, and the sudden realization that there was nothing more ahead of you burbled in your chest as a mix of relief and despair, morphing into overwhelming hopelessness.

The end of the line… It felt much creepier than you thought.

“Does the witch have anything to say on her behalf?” The man asked you with judging eyes, and it was obvious that he didn’t care about anything you had to say. You scoffed, lifting your head and roaming your eyes through the crowd, meeting their disgust and the yearning glint to see you burn to ashes before finding your father and brother’s watery eyes.

Both of them stood right there in front of you with agonized eyes searching for yours, and their face twisted in a frown, overwhelmed with regret and the pain of losing you. The brief moment seemed to awaken Seungmin’s anger, and he howled and protested, trying to get closer to you, but your father was quick to hold him back, restraining him as he struggled to free himself. You watched how he wailed and cried, his efforts to fight for his freedom decreasing before he turned his back at you, crying on your father’s shoulder. You watched as your father sucked his lower lip, holding Seungmin for dear life as he watched you displayed there, eyes filled with fear of losing not only you but also Seungmin.

You felt the pity wash all over you.

Pity for your father who would witness his loved ones burning not once but twice.

Pity for your brother who had his hands tied down and couldn’t help you as he wanted.

Pity for yourself who would burn for being too reckless.

“Well, if the culprit doesn’t have anything to sa—“ He continued but you were fast to interrupt him, trying to fix a smile on your face as you looked straight into your father’s eyes.

“It’s too soon for bunnies to hop” Your voice faltered, and you cursed yourself, trying to ignore the obvious quivering on the corner of your lips as you smiled to him “I’ll hop straight home…” You felt your eyes watering and you looked up to hold your tears back before returning your gaze to him, brows twitching for a second “… Into mom’s arms” You concluded, feeling the lump on your throat getting thicker but refusing to let him see your tears.

The priest didn’t seem as touched as you, gesturing to the man beside you to set the straw under your feet on fire and making you inhale sharply, closing your eyes to wait for your cruel destiny. The warmth enveloped your feet ─ emanating slowly to your body as a warning that prompted you to open your eyes and fix your gaze on the dancing flames ─, creeping in an insufferable pace as if it was slowly welcoming you to your fate.

The casting glow hurt your eyes and the constant howling and growling from the crowd seemed to make its way to your brain, reminding you of your dreams ─ the way the flames engulfed your mother’s body as she screamed her lungs out in agony ─, and flipping a switch inside you. It was like you suddenly realized you were going to die. The flames crackled and suddenly licked your body for a split of a second, making you jolt your feet away just to be brutally held back by the restraints, and that was it.

You were going to burn.

The realization made you wriggle ─ wrestling against the ropes that firmly held your body on the stake ─ and the fierce struggling just served to bury the ropes on your flesh, hurting and marking you. You widened your eyes as the flames rose once again, practically mocking your efforts to get away from this, as you intensified your struggling, jerking your limbs for dear life and begging for mercy as you bawled just like your mother did, crying and wailing to anyone who would want to hear.

The next minute was a mess.

First, you whimpered as you closed your eyes shut and tried to force your powers out of you in hope that the wind could shut down the flames and release you. The attempt was met with an unbearable wave of exhaustion through every fiber of your body that made you tremble, feeling drained out from your earlier outburst. The only hope you had vanished just like this, leaving your head spinning and your limbs limp as the flames scorned you once again.

Second, you heard a roar ─ a powerful war cry that spread around as a blast of wind sweeping everything ─ that made you raise your head to meet whoever was yelling like this, ready to save you. The male voice was followed by a few female ones that sounded wild and furious, and as you heard the loud “Enough!” that baffled everyone, you met his eyes. The dark brown eyes buried into yours filled with fierce determination and something else, softer, that made your heart skip a beat.

Third, the girls that walked beside Chan threw their spears with terrific accuracy, taking advantage of his blast to boost their attacks. The spears impaled the priest and the executioner’s head at the same time the flames under your body vanished with the wind, and you didn’t try to look behind you to see their bodies lying on the floor. They didn’t even wait for their weapon to hit them ─ confident enough on their habilities ─, ordering their allies around and taking the lead.

The Coven was here for you.

You could only watch as some familiar faces ─ such as The Elders and their children ─ and some unfamiliar ones ─ all of them armed females with a feral aura ─ charged towards the crowd filled with determination and resentfulness. The villagers didn’t seem more pleased than your allies, and as soon as they realized the situation, the counterattack was put into action, resulting in a fierce battle between both parts, though pretty unbalanced.

You observed as Seungmin and your father sprinted to get to the stairs that gave access to your platform, eager to release you from the stake, but some of the villagers seemed to have the same idea. You were quite sure they weren’t really interested in saving you, though. They fought in the stairs, changing their goal of release you to prevent anyone from reaching and hurting you. The anxiety took over you, and you started to roam your eyes through the crowd, searching for someone who could help you get rid of your ties.

“Don’t use more force than necessary!” You could hear your Grandma yell, and you followed her with your eyes as she grabbed several faces by the minute, putting everyone she could touch to sleep. The Earthy Elder appeared out of nowhere by her side, laughing maniacally as she buried her hands to the ground, making the earth shake and knocking down some villagers. She twisted her hands and suddenly the ground turned into quicksand that swallowed people slowly “Yerkir!” Wiha hissed, throwing her quick warning look.

“What?! I’m not even touching them!” She yelled in amusement, laughter sounding in the air in contrast with the screams and growls around her “Dinta! Behind you!” Yerkir snapped her eyes to the side, and you followed her gaze, stunned to meet an old lady dodging a sharp blow aimed at her head without even looking back, lowering her torso and turning back in one quick motion. She didn’t take more than a second to fix her gaze on her attacker before skillfully raising her hand and burying her blade into the man’s neck as if it was nothing, averting her trained eyes to look for a new prey.

She looked ferocious.

“Watch out!” You heard Changbin yelling right in front of you, and for a brief moment, you thought you were screwed, turning your head around to spot your aggressor but the blow never came as no one was beside you. You returned your gaze to him to see him ramming into some a random villager by the shoulder, taking him to the ground before raising his gaze to one of the girls that accompanied Chan earlier “Looks like I got your back” He smiled teasingly at her.

She adjusted her longbow in a quick motion, positioning her feet quickly to get some stance before nocking and setting her arrow, drawing the bowstring and resting her fingers on her cheek as she aimed right into Changbin’s face. He paled, widening his eyes and raising his hands in defeat but the girl grinned, tilting the bow to the side and releasing the arrow that flew directly to a man behind Changbin, going through his flesh and getting him to the ground, his improvised weapon falling from his hand.

“Now we’re even” She snorted, and you could see the smugness oozing from her as she lowered her bow before looking at you, arching her brow “Prince charming didn’t come to help you out yet?” She sneered, jumping on the platform effortlessly ─ though the height wasn’t really negligible ─ and looking around the crowd to spot anything concerning.

“Y/N!” Chan chirped, propelling his body with some wind to jump on the platform, rushing to your side, and resting his forehead on yours, cupping your cheeks ever so gently as he sighed in relief before looking deeply into your eyes. It wasn’t the best moment to feel embarrassed but feeling the warmth of his hold on you after so long made your heart race, and you felt your face burning as his thumbs rubbed circles on your cheeks.

“Cut out the crap” She scoffed, and you could see in the corner of your eyes how she frowned with disgust as she took a knife out of nowhere, heading behind you and gripping your wrists to chop the ropes and release your hands. You fell forward, tangling your arms around Chan’s neck for some support, and he promptly moved his hands to your waist, trying to balance you as the girl squatted to chop the lower ropes, releasing your legs, “All ready” She said, dusting her hands after she sheathed the knife.

“Can you stand?” Chan asked thoughtfully, helping you to place your feet on the floor. You felt your knees giving out as soon as you touched the ground, unable to feel anything as your legs were completely numb. He held you tightly, bringing your body closer to his before placing a kiss on your temple, “That’s okay, I’m here for you” He whispered soothingly, returning one of his hands to your cheek.

“That’s enough, Prince Charming” She grimaced, scrunching her nose as she looked both of you from head to toes, disgusted “We have to take her away from here and—“ She started to say but Seungmin’s terrified scream interrupted her and got you snapping your head to him, startled. He fell to the floor, butt thudding on the platform as he stumbled over his feet trying to get away from the girls that held their knives up, prepared to kill them without a second thought.

“They’re friends!” You yelled at the same time your father fell to the floor, just like Seungmin, reaching out for them as you tried to disengage from Chan to jolt their way to help them out. The motion was useless since you still couldn’t feel your legs, and as you fell to the ground ─ unable to stand up ─ you gathered all your remaining energy to give the last blow, managing to get a blast of air out of your palms to knock the girls down the stairs.

You didn’t even feel your face hitting the floor as you passed out.

/////

You woke up with a terrible headache.

You opened your eyes, staring at the blurry ceiling upon you as you felt your head throbbing, sighing in relief as you realized that you were back home. Although you still couldn’t see clearly, you would recognize the wooden beam and the lazy vines that hovered over your head throughout your entire life anywhere, even with your eyes closed. The familiar surroundings soothed you, and Vivi untangled herself from the beams to poke you playfully, making you giggle and try to push her away.

Your hand didn’t move an inch.

You looked down your arms, noticing the leaves that wrapped your forearms before locking your eyes with two hands holding yours, feeling your heart skip a beat. Chan was sitting on the floor in a clearly uncomfortable position that would gift him with a terrible backache in the future; his head rested on the mattress, plump lips brushing your knuckles as a trickle of drool glistened on the corner of his lips. You chuckled; studying how his fingers intertwined with yours and feeling your heart swell as he mumbled something in his sleepy state, nuzzling your hand before falling silent again.

You reached out for his hair, gently playing with his locks as you patted his head, smiling when you noticed the corner of his lips twitching, almost like he was giving a smile of his own. You brushed his hair away from his forehead to get a better look at his face, staring at his peaceful features. You couldn’t help but admire his beautiful long eyelashes adorning his eyes, his blond wavy locks that framed his face, and his soft traits that gave him an angelic aura.

He was ethereal.

The endearing moment was broken by someone clearing their throats, and you snapped away from your daydreaming, darting your eyes around the place to meet the source of this new sound. You met your father’s eyes, his amused smirk was somewhat mocking, and he arched a brow at you before staring at the boy that held his little girl’s hand. You felt your face burning and the urge to pull your hand away, but you didn’t, choosing to stare back at him as you waited for him to say something.

“He’s a good boy” He stated simply, returning his gaze at you “He stood up all night to take care of you… He even plastered some ointment on your bruises and bandaged you with these leaves” He got up from the chair, adjusting Seungmin’s head to lay on the wall as he did so, walking your way and fixing Chan’s coat around his shoulders “I told him you would wake up by the morning but I guess young love is not only blind but also deaf” He chuckled, and you hid your face behind your free hand.

“Please” You whined embarrassed, and he laughed wholeheartedly. You smiled at him, enjoying the sound of his laughter and looking fondly at him before your smile dissolved into a frown and you averted your eyes, an unsettling feeling inside your chest. He looked at you questioningly, and you bit your lip before returning your gaze at him “Why didn’t you tell me that I was your daughter? Did you know all along?” You asked curiously and yet hurt, getting a resigned sigh from him.

“You know? When Seungmin first came home with this coat…” He touched the fabric over Chan’s shoulder, smiling nostalgically at it “Your mother gave me this as a gift for helping her… She didn’t want to stay with The Coven but she couldn’t simply go to another village without a single thing… It would be really suspicious and dangerous, so Wiha brought her to me because… Well…” He trailed off, flourishing his fingers right upon Chan’s face.

You gasped when the air wavered around him, revealing a completely different face.

“I could help her to go unnoticed” He explained, gesturing to interrupt his enchantment “Anyway, I knew you were around when he came back with it, and then a couple of days after you appeared in my living room” He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest “You look just like your mother… I had no doubts you were my daughter” He admitted, and you frowned, lowering your gaze.

“So why didn’t you tell me?” You insisted to know, and he walked to the other side of your bed, sitting there before holding your free hand, looking into your eyes filled with regret.

“I was afraid… What if it pushed you away? I didn’t know what Wiha did to you throughout all those years… What if you thought I was the enemy? What if you hated me? What if you couldn’t handle this? I had just gotten you back… I didn’t want to lose you again” He sighed, averting his eyes “I’m sorry… I should have known better” He caressed your cheek, and you leaned against his palm, closing your eyes.

Could you really blame him?

You didn’t think so.

The door creaked as it was being opened, revealing your Grandma behind it ─ head ducking into her shoulder and uneasy eyes darting between both of you ─, bringing a heavy silence that fell upon you three uncomfortably. Your father straightened his back before getting up, clearing his throat and rubbing his nape as your Grandma shifted her weight from left to right, building enough tension to cut with a knife. You felt your body stiff as you tried to think about what to say, gulping down as you glanced over your father before returning your gaze to your Grandma.

“I think you need to talk” Your father stated kinda wary, pursing his lips “And I probably should go help out there” He mumbled, heading to the door. The Elder stepped aside to let him pass, following him with her gaze before sighing and lowering her head, closing the door behind her and sauntering your way, sitting beside you. The silence that settled between you two was uncomfortable, and both of you stood there, staring at each other before she cleared her throat, decided to break the ice.

“I didn’t mean to… I was trying to protect you” She muttered, looking at you “I guess all I did was push you towards the danger… I’m sorry” She had sincerity in her eyes, and her lips twisted down ─ hinting how ashamed she felt for everything she did ─ eyes wavering to hold your gaze “I couldn’t save your mother… The Coven was establishing itself at the time… It was five of us and a bunch of kids to take care of” She sighed, lowering her gaze to the floor “I know it’s no excuse for what I’ve done but at the time it seemed like the only logical choice…” Her voice faltered, and you tilted your head, looking at her filled with pity.

“That’s a lot to take in” You admitted, sighing heavily “You lied to me throughout my whole life… You stole me from my home and you erased all my memories…” She tightened her lips, eyes watering as she nodded, expecting your answer though you could see she was hurt “… And yet I missed you every day of these four months” She snapped her head up, looking taken aback by your input “I love you, Grandma” You smiled at her, and this time she let some tears fall from her eyes, emotional “And with time, we’ll be able to get through this” You promised.

“I love you too” She said, rolling her eyes up to look at the ceiling as she wiped her tears quickly, pretending to be allergic to something as she sniffed, rubbing her nose and averting her eyes from you. She fought back a smile, rubbing her eyes once more and nodding in acknowledgment “And I can give your memories back if you want… I kept them close to you just in case” She chuckled, looking up. You followed her gaze, arching your brows in surprise.

“Vivi?!” You widened your eyes, flabbergasted “You’re kidding me!” You stared at the vines, amazed by the possibility of getting your memories back and remember every day you spent with your mother and your father as a kid. You reached for Vivi, caressing her as you thought about all the things you would get back, all of your memories with your family… All the jokes, all the cuddling, all the laughter… All the love.

“The only thing is…” She trailed off, staring at Vivi with unfocused eyes “The only motive she’s alive is to keep your memories” She tried to explain, pursing her lips “She’ll die as soon as you get them back” She added, approaching the vines to caress them with such fondness that it made you wonder for a moment.

“There are things that I feel like I need to know… Things I want to remember” You admitted, studying the lovely vine tangling on your grandma’s hand fondly of her “So much must have happened in two years… There are so many memories I wish to get back…” You felt a lump forming on your throat as you reached out for Vivi, caressing the vines as the guilt sank into your body.

Chan nuzzled your hand, mumbling something in his sleep, and interrupting your train of thoughts. He whined, hands letting go of yours to rub his lower back as he frowned in pain, scrunching his nose and lifting his head from the bed. He groaned, hands going to his neck now as he stretched his neck in a circular motion, muttering something under his breath and finally opening his eyes, still sleepy.

“I mean… I have plenty of ways to get new memories to cherish now too” You smiled fondly, studying his bloated face in amusement. He rubbed his eyes and groaned once more, pressing his cheeks to try to feel more awake, making you chuckle. The bed shifted as your Grandma got up, prompting you to look at her. She had twinkling eyes and a knowing smirk plastered on her face as she nodded in acknowledgment, dusting her clothes off.

“Well, take your time to decide what you want to do” She reassured you, averting her eyes to Chan before giggling, “I think I should go help the others too… We have a lot to discuss with all the ruckus in the village” She headed to the door, throwing a last look over her shoulder “He didn’t stop thinking about you once throughout all those months… Just saying, in case he trails off” She chuckled, closing the door behind her.

You couldn’t believe your Grandma… You stared blankly at the door, blinking a couple of times before you averted your eyes to Chan, dumbfounded, noticing the way his ears seemed to be on fire. You felt your heart racing as he opened his mouth to say something but closed it right after, looking away from you and rubbing his nape, embarrassed. He didn’t look like he was sleepy anymore but he looked just as lost as when he opened his eyes, and somehow you found it endearing.

“Good morning, handsome warlock” You joked, and you enjoyed the way his face flushed in a bright red, which made you chuckle “So a bird told me your head is all filled with me…” You said on a sing-song tune, holding back your smile when he groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. You stared at him, wondering how he could be this shy after holding you and flirting like he had been before you ran away.

“Good morning…” He answered as if he had been defeated, getting up from the floor and glancing at you shyly “How are you feeling?” He asked, ignoring his own embarrassment for a moment to reach out for your forearms, inspecting your bandages “Does it still hurt?” He pressed your arms with a little bit more strength than before, and you shut your eyes closed, hissing.

��Stop it!” You whined, and he immediately let go of your arms, chortling when you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest “I’m feeling just fine!” You grumbled, and he sat beside you, smiling at you as if he thought you were the most amusing thing in this world. You sat on your bed, intertwining your fingers as you stole some glances at him, suddenly feeling shy with his presence so close to you “I… Thank you… For saving me” You floundered, gulping down and fixing your gaze on your hands laying on your lap.

“I don’t think I deserve this… All of us worked together” He shrugged, though you could see how his cheeks were dusted with pink “I… Well… So…” He stuttered, clenching his fists on his lap as he tried to say whatever he wanted to say to you, prompting you to rest your hand on his leg to reassure him “You’re eighteen now!” He blurted on a high pitched tone, eyes snapping to your hand lying on his thigh.

“Yeah, kinda what happens when you have your birthday at seventeen” You joked, and he chuckled at you, nodding “So… I’m officially a witch now” You cleared your throat, averting your gaze to the door, feeling your face burning at your hidden suggestion “And you… Well… So what about it?” You trailed off, retracting your hand from his thigh.

“I… I made you a birthday gift… I mean... It’s nothing fancy like a coat but I made it especially for your eighteenth birthday and it’s totally okay if you don’t want to accept it! I mean, you may not even need it! Actually, it’s not really useful but it has a lot of meaning to it, and—“ You laughed as he rambled, pushing him lightly as you looked at him playfully.

“You didn’t need to” You cut him off, and he blushed once more, lowering his head.

“Well, I kinda did…” He mumbled, searching for something in his pockets. You watched him curiously as he finally found it, handing you a small bracelet that seemed to have been braided by someone. The piece had eight beads adorning it like, and you arched your brows as you took the gift in your hands, staring at it in awe.

“It’s beautiful!” You chirped, wearing it immediately and studying it carefully on your wrist, grinning approvingly “You made this?” You asked, turning your head at him, and he nodded coyly. He took the hand you put the bracelet in his, rubbing circles at the back of your hand before focusing his eyes on yours, a fierce glint taking over his features.

“Do you recognize it?” He bit his lips, and you tilted your head in confusion, studying the bracelet closer. It looked somewhat alike Caeli’s one, and the realization made you widen your eyes, snapping them at him as you gasped, flabbergasted.

“Is it a –?“ He interrupted you, tightening his grip on your hands, anxiously.

“Doesn’t have to be if you don’t want to!” He rushed to say, unable to hold your gaze. He played with your thumbs, swallowing dry before trying to look into your eyes. You stared at him in shock, not even once imagining he would give you an engagement bracelet, feeling your heart beating so fast that it resounded in your ears “One bead for each year I knew I wanted to marry you…” He let go of your hands, hiding his face “Mother Nature! This is so embarrassing! I told my mom you wouldn’t like it! Actually, just give it back! I can totally give you something else! I mean, just ask it! I will try to find it and –“

You scoffed, holding his cheeks and bringing his face closer to yours, interrupting his rambling once again. He widened his eyes as he got closer to your face, and you almost chortled when your lips met, crashing against each other before both of you slowly closed your eyes. The initial messy kiss morphed into a more caring one; lips molding on each other as you felt butterflies in your stomach, the slow movements trying to convey years of yearning for this very moment.

He cupped your cheek, leaning your way and guiding you to lie down, body hovering over yours as he deepened the kiss, tongue battling against yours to explore every inch of each other. His other hand rested on your waist, and you felt confident enough to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you. He whispered something against your lips ─ something that sounded just like a confession ─ before capturing your lips again, losing himself on you.

The moment would be the best thing you ever experienced.

“Holy shit!” Seungmin yelled in a strangled voice.

If it wasn’t for your brother…

Chan jolted away from you like you were on fire, sitting beside your lying body and looking at Seungmin like he was just caught red-handed. Well, he kinda was. Seungmin looked at you horrified, eyes studying both of you from head to toes before he grimaced, disgusted by what he had just witnessed. He got up from his chair, groaning and pressing his temples, refusing to look straight at you for a second.

“I swear to God! I don’t want to see you guys… Oh my god! You should feel ashamed!” He accused, pointing at both of you “At least, wait to be alone, goddammit!” He whined, heading to the door at a quick pace, refusing to look back as he slammed the door behind him, traumatized. You stared at Chan’s lips, leaning his way once more before the window was slammed, startling you “And let me close this goddam window too!” He groaned, mumbling something as he walked away.

Seungmin was so lucky he was your brother... Otherwise, you would be hunting him by now.

You looked at Chan for a few seconds, deadpanned as your romantic moment was already ruined and there was nothing more to do about it. You both chortled, shaking your head in disbelief before he extended his hand for you to take, helping you out of bed and pecking your lips with a goofy smile plastered on his face, lowering his head to hide his grin and his flushed state.

“I think that I let it pretty clear…” You chuckled, caressing his cheeks so he would return his gaze to you “But this was my way to say yes” You pecked his lips, and he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead on yours.

“I think you should say it a little louder… Not sure I heard it right” He sighed mockingly, and you placed a gentle kiss on his lips, smirking “Hm? What was it? I can’t hear you…” He whined, making you push his shoulder lightly, laughing at his antics. He pouted, and you rolled your eyes before kissing him once more, getting a satisfied grin from here “I think I’m beginning to hear it…” He mused.

“You’re lucky I love you” You chortled, looking at him fondly.

“Oh, that I am” He agreed, kissing you softly “Not only the most handsome but also the luckier warlock alive” He chuckled, and you let go of his neck, groaning jokingly as you headed to the door “Wait! I’m joking!” He laughed, following you and taking your hand on his, opening the door for both of you to brag about your news. He brought your tangled hands to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles before raising your hand in the air “I did it!” He yelled for everyone to hear, and you hid your face behind your free hand.

It was okay if you had a moment ruined… You had plenty more to experience with him from now on.

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