#of separating and going into a crowded area and changing their appearances
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Communication
Surprise surprise, they're no good at it.
This is a continuation of my in-game bardlock series, seeing as I left a large gap in it between an intimate and emotional scene and a whole bunch of unhinged fucking. Sorry about that.
Takes place after Intimacy but can be read as a stand-alone!
Read on AO3
Astarion x f!Tav
Early Act 3. It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next.
Tav is a half-elf bardlock. I'm calling her Tav in this fic, but if you know you know.
Hurt/comfort, some fluff and a drop of humour (I am me after all) if you squint, love, angst
TW: some very casual violence and murder
Approximately 3.9k words.
“Well?” A very giddy Astarion had appeared behind Tav. “Let’s go!”
The party had finally reached the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate and were setting up camp near Rivington, after a brief excursion in the area.
“Go where?” she asked.
“Anywhere! I haven’t seen these streets in sunlight in two centuries.”
“Now..?”
The city was flooded with refugees. Some child whose mother was definitely not coming for her had seemingly declared herself adopted by the group. There was a towering pile of corpses just outside one of the nearby gates. A circus was in town.
It was nice to finally be back in civilisation.
“Yes, now! Forget the bloody tent, maybe we’ll find an inn to sleep in for a change.”
Nothing had been arranged, set up or planned yet. They had only the vaguest notion of where they were going.
“Sure, a walk sounds lovely right now,” shrugged Tav.
It very quickly became obvious that finding an inn would be nigh on impossible. The streets were crowded with refugees, frantic citizens and all those who would either try to keep them in order or prey upon them.
“Are we going anywhere in particular, or are we just... going?” Tav asked, trying to make her way through the throng. She had never seen Baldur’s Gate this busy before.
“There is something I’d like to show you,” answered Astarion. “Some place, to be exact. It’s- hey!”
He realised that he was talking to no one, as they had been separated by a group of dwarves pushing their way through between them. Tav smiled at him over their heads, raising her arms in an open-palmed gesture of defeat and resignation.
“Can’t you keep up?” Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes, and reached for her, taking her hand and linking his fingers through hers.
This… This was new, particularly in public, and Tav bit her lip, fighting not to smile, as he guided her after him.
Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at her, to see her grinning.
“Oh shut up,” he huffed, before spilling into a smile too, despite himself, and drawing her close to kiss her.
“Half-elven whore,” a nearby elven woman muttered to her companion in elvish, tsking in distaste at the sight. Either she did not expect to be heard or understood, or simply did not care.
Astarion turned towards the woman, with a glower, but before he could retaliate with his own snide remark, Tav told the elven woman to go fuck herself with a splintered broom, in perfect elvish, and pulled Astarion further down the street before the woman thought of anything else to say.
“Such... delightful use of the True Tongue, dear.” Astarion seemed in equal parts impressed and taken aback. “Don't tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time..?”
“Oh, no, I only know a little bit,” laughed Tav.
“Do indulge me.”
“No, it’s really hardly anything,” she shook her head. “I can count, exchange pleasantries and profanities, know a few songs I can’t translate, and a few odd phrases.”
“Such as?”
“I can scream for help in elvish, for one,” she offered.
“Why would you need to scream for help in elvish..?”
“Men are more likely to come running if they think it’s a little elven maiden they’re rescuing,” she explained with a sigh.
Astarion mulled that over with a frown for a bit.
“I’ll have to take your word for that... What else? And for hells’ sake, just say something, I enjoyed hearing it.”
She said the first phrase that came to mind.
Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, with what Tav knew to be the expression he held when he was doing his best to keep his face straight.
“So let’s start with what you think you just said.”
“...Shit. ...Uhh.” Tav gave Astarion a sheepish look. “‘My small children have had nothing to eat for days.’?”
“Darling,” he said, cupping her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “My love. That’s not quite it... Now, how many people do you think you’ve told you’ve ‘eaten nothing but small children for days’..?”
“Ah... That explains the reactions,” Tav said thoughtfully.
“Horror?” Astarion finally snickered.
“Usually laughter... I just figured most elves were assholes.”
Eventually Astarion brought them onto a rooftop that offered an impressive view of the city and surrounding regions.
“It’s so strange to be here in daylight,” he murmured. “This was one of my spots,” he said, turning to Tav. “I used to come here at the start of my evenings, alone, and just… enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.” Astarion took a pensive look around. “Admittedly, the tiles weren’t as hot at night, and all the bird shit wasn’t as prominent.”
They found a place to sit down.
“I thought you would try to get your job done as quickly as possible,” said Tav.
“There had to be a certain balance to it.” Astarion shook his head. “Start prowling too early, and the potential targets wouldn’t be ripe for the picking yet. And even if I managed to get someone back to the manor early on in the evening, it would only mean I would have to ‘entertain’ them longer.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against a chimney. “It was better to take some precious solitary repose, when I could.”
“Do you think you might have taken me back to Cazador if you’d met me back then?” Tav asked quietly.
Astarion opened his eyes and frowned at the sudden question.
“Not if I’d ever seen you perform, no,” he deliberated. “I never went for the bards. They were almost my co-conspirators, though they didn’t know it. I couldn’t waste them.” He paused before continuing. “But otherwise, if I’d just bumped into you at a tavern… Probably, yes. A pretty, reckless stray… You would have been perfect. …Would you have followed?” He asked, glancing at her.
“Probably,” she replied, staring off into the distance.
They sat in silence until Astarion broke it with a question.
“Will you stay with me when all this is over?”
Just the sheer amount of effort he put into trying to make that question sound casual spoke volumes.
It caught her off guard. They’d spent many evenings in his tent lazily basking in vague fantasies about an ‘after’, usually concentrating on the idea of being able to stay in bed all day, or the concept of their hair and fingernails being free of dried blood and entrails for a change. They’d never actually discussed any realistic nuance of this ‘after’. Or what it might look like, other than what it wouldn’t look like.
“Are you certain you want to take Cazador’s place in the ritual..?” she asked, carefully.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Astarion immediately sounded defensive.
“You don’t even know what it entails or means, not really...”
“It means having everything I’ve been missing the past two centuries, what else is there to know?” He scoffed. “...You haven’t answered my question,” he said after a pause.
She said nothing for a while, looking down at her fingernails.
“Stay and do what..?”
“Anything!” he exclaimed. “Anything you want. We could do anything. Do you have any idea what I will be capable of? Of the power I will hold. The influence.”
“Yes, yes, legions of wolves, turning into mist,” she recited. “What else… Commanding ghouls, I think?” She threw her head back, looking at the sky. “I’m not sure why you would need to do any of that, though.”
“Unimaginable power, and you mock it…” Astarion said indignantly. “I suppose you would rather go frolic in the woods with Halsin..? …Oh don’t look so shocked, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Sleeping in the dirt, living off the land. Is that what would make you happy?”
“He looks at you the same way! And must you jump to extremes?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if I were interested in Halsin, there is ample space between sleeping in the dirt and sleeping in that gothic monstrosity, in which I might find myself happy.”
They sat in silence for a while.
“I don’t think you should go through with it,” she said, finally. “Something about it just doesn’t sit right.”
Astarion looked at her with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything. She continued.
“I know enough stories - and before you roll your eyes at me, there is usually a grain of truth to them – and I’ve read between the lines of enough history texts, to know there is no such thing as a jolly vampire lord that just has a grand ol’ time carousing in their castle. It’s always centred on cruelty, misery and violence.”
“I suppose you know plenty of stories of jolly vampire spawn,” he spat.
“Some, as a matter of fact. They usually revolve around romance and redemption.” She sighed and continued, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never heard of any demonic deals that ended in anything that wasn’t disastrous, either. The point is, nothing that involves blood or soul sacrifice has ever made anyone happy.” She looked in the direction of Cazador’s palace. “We should kill Cazador, burn it all to the ground and dance on the ashes. I will be by your side. And yes, I want to stay with you. Of course I do.”
“For how long?” Astarion asked quietly, after a pause.
“...What?”
“How long will you stay by my side? You have another... 100 years, 150 at best? I can’t offer any solutions to that as a spawn.”
She blinked, realisation dawning in her eyes.
“...Astarion Ancunin, did you just say you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?”
“Oh don’t you bloody dare turn this into a joke,” he bristled. “Just for once.”
“Not a joke, but…” She paused and gave her head a brisk shake, as if to snap herself out of a daze. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, what are you saying?”
“Isn’t it obvious..?” The grin that had crept habitually onto Astarion’s face felt like a suffocating mask. She only stared back into his eyes, unblinking, waiting for him to continue. “I could turn you. Grant you an eternity.” ‘With me’, he wanted to add, but the look in her eyes made the words die on his tongue.
None of this was going the way Astarion had expected. Not that he had planned any of this… Still, he’d made certain assumptions. He’d anticipated the conversation and day would flow somewhere along the following lines: re-affirm his plans for Cazador. Exchange words of undying love and devotion. Maybe, maybe make love to her again, later, in celebration. Instead everything was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. Words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Everything he thought he might say suddenly felt pathetic.
“Turn me? To become one of your spawn?” Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “Two centuries as something you say is less than a slave, a puppet, and you would so easily offer the same fate to me..?”
“First of all,” he sputtered, “I don’t know why you immediately assumed there would be others. Secondly,” he continued, slowing down, “there is another way, or so I’ve read. You wouldn’t be a mere spawn, but a-” Astarion winced, cutting himself off. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. This was rapidly spinning further and further out of his control. “I thought you trusted me?” he asked instead.
“It’s not about trust,” she said. “If you had the choice between a hundred years of absolute freedom or being enthralled to someone for eternity - doesn’t matter who - me, Gale, your long-lost grandmother, anyone! What would you choose?”
“I would never compel you,” said Astarion, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading.
“That’s not the point,” she said, looking away, running her hand through and tugging at her hair. “Let’s just head back. We still need to set up before it gets dark, and I promised Karlach we would visit that bloody circus…”
Something inside Astarion shattered and spilled, ice-cold, over his heart as she got up and walked away.
Not even an hour had passed since some of the happiest moments he’s had in centuries.
They walked back in silence.
Eventually they came upon an outpost of Flaming Fists and steel watchers, who had appeared on the road they had taken into the city. They were apprehending everyone trying to pass through, whether they were leaving or entering.
“Let’s try a side street,” offered Astarion.
They found and made their way through a narrow alleyway. It was empty. Suspiciously empty, in fact - no children running through, no one out for a quick smoke, no drunks pissing on the walls.
Sure enough, once they were halfway through, three goons intercepted their way, stepping out of a doorway. Two humans and an enormous half-orc wide enough to block out most of the passage.
“Alley toll.” One of the thugs flashed a malicious grin, eyeing Tav up and down. “Better pay up, doll.” Three more jeering hoodlums appeared behind them as he spoke, armed with crude but lethal weapons.
“Attempting to detain a Council battlemage on duty? Bold but stupid,” she said gravely. “Hand over your profits and Lord Gortash won’t learn of your little enterprise. This is your only warning.”
Trying to bluff and deceive her way through, per usual. Was there even a Council anymore? Did it employ mages? No matter. Whether due to the fact that she and Astarion had decided to wander the streets of the city in civilian clothes, without armour, or simply because the lust for money and violence had gotten the better of the would-be muggers, they paid her attempt no heed.
The leader laughed.
“Or, how about we have some fun with you, and your Lord Gortash can come and collect your body from the river once we’re done with it?”
Astarion’s blood boiled.
He reached for his daggers, thoughts racing. Why in the hells had they come here barely armed..? They were surrounded, but perhaps if she blasted the three in front of them they might run through..? But they were probably too close for that… Could she misty step behind them and get away? His undead body would most likely survive whatever came, even with the tadpole.
“Take the ones behind,” Tav snapped, and Astarion followed her lead, as he had grown used to, silently praying to no particular deity that she knew what she was doing.
He ducked as one of the goons bellowed and swung a sword at him, dodging the blow to come up next to his attacker, burying a dagger between his ribs and another in his guts, for good measure. At least the alley was too narrow for all of the bandits to come in on them at once. Behind him, Tav spat some incantation that he wasn’t familiar with.
The next lout came at him, only to stop short, as Astarion scrounged up his meagre magical abilities to hurl a firebolt at his face, making the man yelp and grind to a halt in shock and pain. Astarion’s dagger followed through his eye socket shortly thereafter.
The entire altercation with the two thugs took mere seconds. Another controlled shout from Tav followed behind him.
The last of the muggers on Astarion’s side backed away, looking at the scene unfolding behind Astarion with a horrified expression, before breaking into a run and disappearing.
Astarion turned back to witness Tav standing with her arms crossed, looking unaffected, just as the half-orc who had been behind the group’s leader pulled his sword back out from the leader’s stomach, having impaled him from behind.
Tav barked another command as the leader collapsed, and the half-orc slammed the head of his other cohort, who hadn’t understood what was happening yet, against a wall, with a resounding crunch.
A domination spell.
Astarion felt nauseous. If his body had been capable of producing bile, it would have crept up at the back of his throat. For once, the smell of freshly spilled blood all around them was repulsive to him.
“Kneel,” Tav commanded, calmly. The half-orc’s body immediately dropped to its knees, with a thud that spoke of damaged kneecaps.
“I’m running out of time. Do you need him?” She stepped over the body of the group’s dying ex-leader and walked around the half-orc, to stand behind him.
Disgust and revulsion continued to claw at Astarion’s insides.
“…What?”
The half-orc’s eyes were void of any emotion. A small mercy.
“Blood. Do you want his blood, before I spill it?” she said nonchalantly.
“…No,” he swallowed. Not like this…
He watched as she slit his throat, carefully standing behind him to avoid blood spraying over herself. Comprehension returned to the man’s eyes just as he made his last gurgling sounds, before stilling forever.
“That was despicable,” Astarion hissed, finally breaking his gaze away from the body. “Compulsion? Really?!”
She gave him an incredulous look, momentarily speechless.
“This is what I do!” she exclaimed. “This is how I protect myself. You know this! What the fuck did you expect - that I would set off a fireball in an alley?! Or make one of them have a fit of giggles?!”
“You didn’t need to do anything, I could have handled all of them,” he countered.
“Oh, stand behind you like a meek little lamb?” She scoffed. “While neither of us are even wearing armour, and they’re on both sides? Don’t be ridiculous.” She crouched to wipe her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. “What does it matter, anyway,” she said, offhanded. “Dead is dead - who cares how they got there?”
“It was just like Cazador all over again,” Astarion said, bitterly. “Watching my siblings torture each other, for his amusement, waiting for it to be my turn to be compelled.”
She stilled as she crouched, not looking up at him.
“You fucking hypocrite,” she said, finally, rising.
“What in the hells are you talking about?” he grimaced.
“Comparing me to Cazador, when you’re planning to take his very place.”
“How dare you?” Astarion felt the last of his composure leaving him. “I am nothing like Cazador, and I never will be,” he growled.
“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re already thinking of your own spawn. Maybe you would keep your word and not compel me, but you would be curious. All that power that you’ve been wishing was yours for 200 years...” She gesticulated, tilting her head. “First just one teensy little slave - someone who’s wronged you, maybe, someone who deserves to bear your ire. Then, perhaps someone convenient, in a place of power. Someone like what you would have been, had Cazador not botched your death so bad that it became public. Then another. And another. And what will you do with them once you have them? Take them for midnight picnics and host slumber parties?”
She spat on the ground.
“I’m going back to camp.”
She stormed off, fuming, exiting the alleyway and mixing into the crowd. Astarion followed at a distance, discreetly wiping the blood that had landed on his hands on the shirt of a random passerby that stumbled out in front of him. He gritted his teeth, watching her.
It had taken every last bit of his self-control to not snap back at her during her little tirade.
He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction, but frankly all his things were at the campsite, and he still needed the group’s help, both with Cazador and the tadpole. And he couldn’t discount something else happening to her on the way back.
No, none of this was what he thought would end up happening today. Was this the end..?
It didn’t matter, he thought. Let her be stubborn. Let her accuse him of gods know what. He would do what he had set out to do. Hells, even if she changed her mind later - it would be too late. Let her live out her “hundred years of freedom” in regret.
And how fucking dare she?! Insinuating that he was or could ever be anything like Cazador. After all he had given her. His trust. His love. He didn’t have anything else. Not as a spawn, anyway.
But perhaps she would change her mind, after she gave his proposal more thought..? He could talk her into it, couldn’t he? He’s talked so many people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do…
There was no point in anything otherwise. It was all for her. All he wanted for himself was revenge. Freedom. Safety. But all the power in the world was meaningless if he couldn’t share it with her.
Astarion winced at the thought, hating that it even crossed his mind. If only he could claw it out of his brain and smash it against the cobbles beneath his feet. How much simpler life would be.
He would not grovel. He would not apologise. He would not change his mind. And he would rather die, again, than be caught running after her like a dog.
Astarion cursed, slipped into the shadows and turned invisible, breaking into a sprint. He wouldn’t be able to replicate the trick for a while now, if the need arose, but he couldn’t care less.
He raced up sets of stairs, speeding through a terrace, dodging the patrons of whatever establishment it was he was going through, and leaped, unseen, onto the next building’s, until he was ahead of her, descending back onto the ground and losing his invisibility around the corner from the main street, stepping out just in front of her.
He caught a glimpse of her scowling and furiously blinking away tears just before she crashed into his chest with a light gasp, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff and rigid, but at least she didn’t try to push him away. Still, a part of him was screaming that it was already too late.
“I don’t want you to have to commit those atrocities when you’re with me,” Astarion murmured into her hair, holding her close.
“You’d rather commit them yourself?” she retorted, her voice weak.
“I don’t want to,” he said quietly, as she seemed to become more malleable, and sank into his embrace, slowly wrapping her own arms around his back. “But I will if I have to. For you.”
“That makes two of us, I guess,” she managed, sounding choked up.
Astarion took a deep breath, relieved. Mine… Still mine… He thought to himself, touching his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. Someone in the street heckled them, yelling something about getting a room.
“I already don’t have much to offer, beyond all my burdens,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes glistening. She tried to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to do what I can, for you. For us. What good am I if I can’t even keep you safe?”
He pressed his lips against her forehead as she hugged him tighter. He had no idea whether he had convinced her of anything, or if she simply didn’t have the will to argue anymore, but for now it didn’t matter.
“I will love you no matter what,” she breathed.
Another jeer followed from the crowd, and someone cursed at them to get out of the way.
“A legion of wolves sounds tempting right about now,” she added, as he smiled.
“Do you still want to get Karlach and go to that circus?” he asked.
“Fuck the circus,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I guess we should.”
They made their way back to the camp, fingers interlocked again. The silence that stretched once more almost felt comfortable this time.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading!
Series master list
Next in series - A night at the inn
AO3
~~~~~
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GaaSaku 2023 FanFest Day12
Prompt: Enemies to Lovers
“Man, what a drag.” Shikamaru tossed his cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of his boot. It smoked against the pavement and his hand impulsively went back to his pack for another. “We got the cops crawlin’ all over this place. What are we even here for?”
Beside him, Gaara leaned against the old stone walls of the Historical Arts Museum, a cup of coffee keeping his hands warm in the brisk autumn air. He pulled down his scarf a little to take a sip and winced; still too hot. “Just hurry up,” he muttered. “We gotta get back in there.”
At the end of the alley, another pair of police walked by, talking casually, and didn’t even glance their way. The cops were everywhere, but it was typical security for the largest tourist pull in the city and surrounding metropolitans, and they had no idea what their mundane Saturday rounds were precedent to and couldn’t see the warning signs in front of them.
That’s why their team had been called in.
Shikamaru and himself, along with three other agents, had been deployed to safeguard the museum under the guise of tourists; they were to blend in with the crowd, watch for signs of suspicion, and would be staking out the building overnight. Only their contractor was privy to who knew of their operation and they were to function as if completely undercover. With orders given, the reasons behind them were negligible, but the recent and very public scandal including the museum and some of their artifacts had given them an inclination as to why their services had been sought out; they were anticipating a heist and couldn’t trust their hired security detail to handle it.
Gaara readjusted the radio piece in his ear, subtle and just like a Bluetooth headphone, and Shikamaru did the same before they reentered the museum and dispersed into the roving crowds. Going separately, they had plenty of time to kill and lots of ground to cover before they had a good handle of the space. No one would try anything during the day, so they spent their time looking for easy points of entry, blind spots in the view of the security cameras, and always wary of anyone acting suspicious.
A few calls had gone over the headsets of the agents as they lapped the building throughout the day: potential activity in the west wing, renaissance section on the second floor, then again in the same wing on the floor below. A third call had come in about a tourist getting too close to one of the paintings and a security guard had them removed. Sloppy work for any muscle-for-hire they expected to be on the job, it made it difficult to say what was to be considered and what could be ignored. Gaara made his way back over to the western wing, he was growing anxious with all the activity happening so far away, he needed to see with his own eyes.
Passing the lobby from the east wing, he was keeping pace with the crowd, not wanting to draw attention to himself, though he was certain the guards had changed shifts since the last time he crossed through here. Ascending the stairs to the second floor, a call came in over the headset; suspicious activity in renaissance again, his agent was in pursuit. Feeling his heart rate increase, Gaara thought they may actually be onto something, and perhaps the night wasn’t going to end in boredom after all.
Rounding the balcony of the second floor, he looked around for the directory, he should at least appear like this wasn’t the third time he’d walked this path today, and as he scanned the area for the map stand, a flash of pink left his heart dropping to his stomach.
Suddenly his hands were on the railing of the balcony, leaning over to double take at the ground floor he’d just come from. Yes, a short bob of that unforgettable light pink hair had just dipped out of view beneath the balcony. His heart was thumping against his chest now, and his feet were moving before he could even press the wireless receiver in his pocket to put out a message. Stepping swiftly down the stairs, he craned his neck to try and see over all the people crowding the adjacent hallways he’d seen her walk down.
“I need eyes on east first floor,” he hissed, weaving around those passing him on the stairs before he finally reached the ground again. “Suspect moving northeast.”
He hadn’t heard the response in his ear, he was too busy searching every head he saw for that familiar color, and he thought he’d seen it once he cleared the steps. Giving chase, he made quick steps in that direction while never taking eyes of the woman walking through the lingering visitors.
“Watch it!” a young man shouted after he’d backed up into Gaara and gotten knocked over in his haste. “Jeeze, look where you’re goin!”
Ignoring the man, Gaara stepped around him and scanned the crowd for any sight of his target; nothing. He walked away from the man still cussing at him and asked over his walkie, “Did you see her?” he asked, urgency in his voice. When his operative responded with see who he was about ready to call for their demotion when they got back to headquarters. “Sakura, you idiot!”
The earbud crackled. “Negative,” the voice responded.
Gaara scowled and rubbed his face as he demanded, “You missed the pink hair?”
Shikamaru came over the walkie then, his command authoritative. “Settle down, everyone dyes there hair now, seen plenty here today already.”
He countered by insisting, “I saw her.”
“Just like in April when you swore she was in Amsterdam?” Gaara stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket and clenched his fists, refusing to yet again make his claim that, yes, he did see her in Amsterdam. “Go back to post.”
He turned from the west wing of the first floor, returning to the stairs and ascending slowly, eyes lingering in the direction he thought he’d seen her last. No trace, gone.
“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath.
At the top of the stairs, a broad open gallery housed some large and impressive masterworks and Gaara took up residence on a bench in front of one of them. There were other people his age appearing to be sketching the paintings, or drawing the crowd, and he intended to blend in with them as he watched the floor below for any signs of that woman; if she were to leave, she would have to do so through the front doors.
Gaara sighed and put his head in his hands for a moment, rubbing his temples and pressing circles into his eyes. Maybe he was seeing things, he was likely just chasing a ghost.
Amsterdam or not; it had been over two years since he’d touched her, since he’d felt how real she was, and he played the memory of their first meeting on repeat so that he wouldn’t forget her face. He had first encountered her on a solo run for an agriculture firm that was struggling with security to their research labs, she’d been caught red handed making off with chemical samples for an upcoming pesticide. Their ensuing scuffle over them ended with a fractured skull and busted wrist for him, a broken rib and stray bullet for her, and he was sure that she had died that night.
He had seen her again a year after that, she’d come crashing down on him and his squad when they were just about to close in on their target, and subsequently slipped away with their payday and an ample helping of his pride. Again, he’d been on mission in central Europe when he returned to his flat and found it ransacked of all their intel with a small lock of hair left on the bed for him as a calling card. He’d been locked in a tidal pull with her ever since; unrelenting, she seemed to always show up when she was least wanted and when he was least ready for her.
This time, Gaara promised himself, eyes still watching all those that passed through the doors below, this time would be different.
“Sabaku,” the voice in his ear called out, conveying the impatience of their team leader. “It’s been noted, return to rounds.”
He stood, taking one last look to the floor below; it was swimming with tourist and locals, resonating a cacophony of echoed murmurs and footsteps, but without sight of her, it just looked empty to him.
…
“Dammit,” Gaara seethed as he sprinted through the dark corridors of the museum, his hard footsteps against the stone floor echoing around him, drowning out the sounds of the scuffle from the western wing.
Only stepping out for a few minutes, he’d been on his way back from using the bathroom when he thought he heard something from the direction of the lobby. Quietly, as to not echo in the open spaces of the empty museum, he made way for the eastern wing, having only made it partway down the stairs to the ground floor when the distinct sound of breaking glass found him. Quickening his pace, he’d whispered a call for backup only to go unanswered but, with the commotion he heard above him now, he figured they had their own issues to deal with.
Through the lobby, down the corridor, into an adjacent hall, and he froze.
Within the dim security lights of the gallery space, all was left undisturbed save for one glass display box with a spotlight shown on a velvet necklace display stand that was missing its jewels, jewels that were currently clutched in the gloved hand of his ghost.
It was only a moment that her eyes lifted to meet his, widening in a look of surprise before she turned tail and ran from him.
He gave chase and ran through the displays, she was fast, and she wasn’t against tipping a display full of priceless jewels over in front of him to slow him down. Gaara wasn’t going to let that stop him; finally, for the first time, he’d gotten the drop on her and caught her by surprise, she wasn’t getting away again.
“Renaissance was just a rouse, huh?” he yelled out to her. “Your lackies are keeping my men busy for you, aren’t they?”
She didn’t even turn her face to him, and he’d chased her into the long corridor and had to close ground before she made it to a door. He pulled his small notepad from his pocket and took aim, hoping to God that his throw was on, and chucked the book ahead of him. It skidded along the ground and an unfortunate footstep landed atop of it, slipped her foot out from under her as she fumbled to the floor.
He had his chance, and he called into his receiver; “First floor, east wing, I’m in pursuit!”
Closing the distance, he was about to make a grab for her when she spun her leg out swept his feet out from under him. Scrambling from the floor as he fell, she tried to gain space from him, but he snagged her ankle and wouldn’t let go. She yelped as she tried lunging away only to grabbed and, when she turned to face him, she was like a cornered animal.
Pulling himself up and grabbing her wrist as she tried to swing at him, he demanded, “Whose pocket are you in now?”
A twist of her hips and a knee connected with his left side, he flinched just enough for her gain back her wrist and lean forward to bring an elbow down against his traps on his shoulders. He grunted and seized up, though the blow had been favorable compared to the time she gave him a kidney shot with a crow bar. Sakura tried to scramble away from him, but he wasn’t relenting; not now, not after two years of bidding his time.
“Come on,” she huffed, breathless. “You’re not that stupid.” She tried to knee him again and he grabbed the front of her gear, hauling her up a few inches from the floor, only to slam her back down and press the breath from her lungs. She gasped and glared up at him, her eyes alight with fire and fury, and he hadn’t noticed her swing until her gloved fist struck his jaw.
Knocked back and halfway delirious, Gaara floundered after her, narrowly avoiding a kick to the face as he grabbed for her ankle again and when he pulled her back to him, something slid away from her and out of reach. It sparkled in the dim light of the hall, and she began thrashing against him once it left her grasp. Encouraged by the sight of her priorities, Gaara used his strength and size to his full advantage.
Stradling her, he pinned her hips to the floor and swatted away the hands she tried to hit him with. His one hand went to his belt and flicked open the snap holding a pair of cuffs in place and he snagged her wrist with his other. Able to feel her knees hitting against his back and her legs slipping on the hard floor, Gaara secured one wrist in the cuff before he found himself squarely smacked in the face, but he didn’t let go. Any other agent and he wouldn’t given them a broken nose to help them rethink their actions, but with her – from the very start of their cat and mouse – it had been different.
Second wrist chained to the first now, and Gaara held her by the cuffs, keeping her arms raised up to him so she couldn’t wind up for another swing.
He huffed as he kneeled over her, finally able to say that he’d caught the woman that had been the bane of his profession for years. But this wasn’t what he had truly been after, and he needed to know, “Why?” he asked, face contorted in a mask of satisfaction and longing. She stilled beneath him and caught his gaze. “Why do you insist on living this life?”
She looked into his eyes a moment, as if trying to discern if his question were rhetorical or not. “Because,” she said quietly after her pause. “What I do matters.”
Gaara scoffed and yanked on her cuffs, she jostled beneath him but remained otherwise unperturbed. “Theft, espionage, sword for hire,” he listed with a voice of contempt. “This is what matters to you?”
She looked a little disappointed to hear him say that, maybe even a little hurt, but he steeled his emotions and swore she wouldn’t get the best of him this time. Her next words were soft and quiet, not like the ones he would expect spoken of his opponent pinned and handcuffed beneath him. “You left me for dead,” she said smoothly; no anger or betrayal, and he knew instantly when she was speaking of. “What happened after that?”
After her heist of the pesticides, when his gun went off in their tussle and he’d been forced to leave her to evacuate the site, a study surfaced about how high levels of chemicals banned in surrounding countries were found in the new formula; it cost the company millions.
“Don’t feed me any bullshit,” he warned.
“What about the target I stole from you?” she asked, his warning thrown to the wayside. Gaara scowled. “Wasn’t he just a whistle blower your government wanted quiet?” He couldn’t refute that one, it had come out soon after their failed mission that the man they’d been sent to capture was indeed a high-profile target for the powerful people that ended up put behind bars with his testimony.
“What about Amsterdam?” Gaara demanded. “I know you were there.”
She smiled up at him, a soft expression, one that was so rare on a face like hers. “When do you think I took this job?”
Gaara looked up from her to where the glittering necklace still sat on the cold floor. “For that?” he questioned in disbelief. “For a necklace?”
“An heirloom,” she corrected him, her frustration with his lack of wit becoming evident. “You’re not deaf, you’ve heard the news?”
“For Christ’s sake!” he exclaimed. “Have them take the museum to court if it’s stolen!”
“It’s taken seven years to go to court!” she spat back at him. “I work much quicker.”
“Stop the misunderstood savior act,” he sneered. “I know you’re lying.” She had to be, no one was as good as she was with righteous intent.
Now, as she frowned and looked to the side, she truly did look pained. It was the first look of vulnerability he’d seen from her, the first glimpse into a person beneath the weapon that she was. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Defiant, Gaara tugged on her cuffs, still locked in the iron grip of his fist, and made a show of her bindings. “I know you’re not getting away this time,” he answered, his words every bit of a promise he could make them.
“Think so?” she asked, her eyes sliding back to him, and she was smirking now. Gaara hesitated, this was precisely why he remained suspicious of her. “I’m the only one that you can’t catch, Gaara,” she said, now looking him squarely in the eyes without a trace of uncertainty or deceit.
“But I’ve caught you,” he countered, unable to understand her mind when she was finally right where he wanted her to be after all this time.
“I know,” she agreed. Again, her voice was smooth and calm, unafraid and unworried. “And you’re about to let me go.”
“What are you talking abo–”
From the cuffs in his hand, a watch around her wrist suddenly flashed red and began beeping in a high-pitched succession. Gaara flinched but didn’t release her from his grip. Then all at once, a spray of automatic gunfire echoed through the museum and a few distinct pops could be heard returning fire. Looking back to the woman beneath him, he found her with a quieted look of urgency on her face, the echoed pops sounding off around them.
“You should’ve just let me walk,” she said, her voice sounding as if she were a bit sorry for the way things turned out before she ordered, “Go, they’ll need you.”
He didn’t know what he was about to say, he wanted to demand more answers from her, he wanted to drag her off with him so she wouldn’t escape him again, but his uncertainty died on his tongue when his radio crackled in his ear, and he could hear his fellow agent shouting over gunfire and calling for his location.
“Shit,” he seethed, dropping her cuffed wrists, he stood from where he had her pinned, and he took off down the hall. Passing the necklace she’d dropped; he scooped it up in his hands and shut it safely in his pocket and unzipped the vest to access his gun holster.
Sprinting, his lungs burned as he dashed through the lobby and he swiftly ascended the stairs. Gun drawn, heart racing, adrenaline honing his senses with every concussive sound to echo within the museum’s open chambers, Gaara swiveled around the railing to the second floor and found cover against the frame of the doorway leading to the western wing. He took a breath, preparing himself for the moment he turned the corner, and then all at once the gunfire had stopped.
The last of the shots echoed through the museum for a few seconds, and when they finally subsided, Gaara had called out over his walkie and ran to the team. They had been shaken and confused, surrounded by the sound of gunfire yet no one had been hit. His agents hadn’t been able to tell where it was coming from, and only a small number of bullet holes could be found in the floors and on the surrounding walls. Then it had simply stopped.
Gritting his teeth, Gaara turned a heel and ran back down the hall and down the stairs, the call of Shikamaru and his fellow agents going unanswered. Once through the lobby he slowed his steps upon seeing the dim glow of the security lights illuminating his pair of handcuffs left lying on the stone floor; open, both sides. His breath all but left him, his blood ran cold. How much of this had she planned? How long had she been watching him throughout the day?
Running again, he came upon the room he’d discovered her in and stepped through the broken shards of glass left at the display podium. He pulled the bejeweled necklace from his pocket along with a small flashlight and shown the beam onto the piece. It flashed in his hands and he moved the light to the display tile affixed to the podium.
Clenching the necklace in his fist, he took a shaken breath. A replica, and a poor one at that. She hadn’t even meant to leave it, who would have been fooled? It was for him, to make him think he’d finally bested her, and he’d fallen for it.
Running a hand through his hair and stifling his frustration and his rage, he once more secured the necklace in his pocket. He would be seeing her again, he was certain of it.
Thanks for reading!
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyJane
FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2120361/WiccadBaltane0501
#gaasaku#sabaku no gaara#sakura haruno#ao3#fan fest 2023#gaasaku fan fest#gaara#gaaraxsakura#sakugaa#naruto au#Prompt: Enemies to Lovers#AgentGaara#SpySakura#Not quite lovers yet
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Title
Fandom: RPF, British RPF, Queen
Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader
Characters: Roger Taylor, Brian May, John Deacon, Freddie Mercury, Reader, You
Word Count: 3139 // Rating: Teen & Up
Summary: I know you think I'm cool but I ain't one of the boys, No, don't be scared that I'm gon' tie you down, I need a little more
Tags/ Warnings: My Writing, Halloween Challenge, Writing Challenge, Songfics, Queen, Queen Band, Love, Friends To Lovers, Admitting Feelings, Hangover, Mild Swearing, Defining the Relationship, Hugging, Performing, Queen On Tour, Touring, Title // Meghan Trainor
Notes: This is part of my writing Challenge for Halloween 2022. All fics are based off of songs I love. The aim is to write one fic a day for 15 days straight. I’m doing a similar thing for Christmas but they will all be headcanons [requests welcome for that] Enjoy x
15 DAYS OF SONGFICS FOR HALLOWEEN (OCT 15TH - OCT 31ST)
The air was electric as the guys came off stage. The crowd was still screaming and clapping as they appeared around me each of them doused in sweat, congratulating one another on yet another successful show. As Freddie took the bottle of water I handed out to him and put it to his lips, chugging it down quickly, I offered Brian a towel so he could wipe his sweaty brow whilst the roadies took his and John’s guitars away from them.Then I held my hand out for Roger’s drumsticks and he handed them to me as he always did.
‘What did you think?’ he asked as I took them out of his hand.
‘Brilliant,’ I said with a smile. Since I was their personal assistant I had to be on the sidelines every night in case they needed anything. The bonus was that I was able to see them perform over and over again.
‘I don’t know,’ Freddie said as we started to walk towards the dressing room.
‘What Fred?’ Brian asked, his towel was wrapped around his neck now, though shrouded by the mass of black curls from above.
‘I think I went a little pitchy in that last couple of songs,’ he said, ‘might be coming down with something.’
‘Want me to pick you something up?’ I asked as we walked through the long narrow corridor that led us to a large dressing room. It wasn’t cosy. It was merely a room made of breezeblocks and a hard stone floor but the boys had made it their own despite only being there for a few hours. A large rack of eccentric outfits hung in the corner that was partitioned from the room by a thin curtain. A table stocked with all kinds of booze and glasses was in another corner and a couple of beat-up couches surrounded a coffee table full of snacks.
‘No, it’s alright,’ Freddie said, ‘think I probably just need to rest a little.’
‘So we’re not going out?’ Roger asked. He was standing by the mirror, now shirtless, running his fingers through his hair as he attempted to style it. Freddie flopped down onto one of the couches and sighed, ‘of course, we’re still going out.’
‘What happened to resting?’ Brian said as he sat down opposite him. As Freddie and Brian started to discuss vocal rest Roger disappeared behind the curtain that separated the room from the ‘changing area’. Though as he disappeared I realised he had left his t-shirt on the dressing table. I had been hovering, perched on the arm of the couch so I stood up and wandered to the vanity, picking it up and slipping behind the curtain to where Roger was. He looked up as I entered, pulling the curtain back quietly, but then his focus went back to the pants he had been shimmying on. After a second or so he was just shirtless and I extended the t-shirt out to him which he took gratefully. Anyone else would blush or run out after seeing their boss half naked but my working life wasn’t exactly a normal one and over the past couple of months, Roger and I had fallen into something more than just friendship.
‘Hey,’ I said as I leaned against the wall, watching him.
‘Hey,’ he said with a small smile.
‘You played a good show today,’ I said.
‘Yeah it felt like a good one,’ he said as he slipped his t-shirt on. The chatter outside the curtains had gotten louder as more friends and family had come into the room and someone had put some music on and I could hear the sound of drinks being poured. So, feeling a little brave I pushed up off the wall and slid my arms around Roger’s waist. He smiled a little as I did but when I tried to lean up to kiss him he turned away.
‘People,’ he mumbled, pulling away from me. My arms dropped to my sides as embarrassment flooded through me. He looked away from me sheepishly though I doubted he was as embarrassed as I was at the rejection. Before I could beg for the ground to swallow me whole the curtain pulled back and John stood there, watching us.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t realise you were both in here.’
‘Rog forgot his shirt,’ I said quickly. John nodded at the information though his gaze was laced with an air of suspicion, but before he could say anything else I slipped past him trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks. I took a seat next to Freddie and Roger came out a couple of seconds after me and slipped down onto the couch next to Brian, not meeting my gaze. Instead, he took a beer bottle off the table and cracked it open, chugging it down after a couple of seconds.
My embarrassment quickly turned to irritation like it had been doing a lot recently. Roger and I weren’t a couple but we weren’t just friends either. Truth was I wasn’t really sure what we were. Our ‘relationship’ had occurred entirely by accident towards the start of this tour.
‘Jesus Fred you weigh a ton,’ Roger said as we shuffled a very pie-eyed Freddie through the hotel room door.
‘Can barely hold him up,’ I panted as we stumbled into the room. As we neared the bed Roger pulled him off me and dumped him onto it ungracefully.
‘Well at least we got him home for the night,’ he chuckled as we watched Freddie spread eagle on the mattress still fully clothed.
‘I think we did more than enough don’t you?’ I giggled making im smile as he headed to the door. I leant down and slipped Freddie’s shoes off, dumping them by the foot of the bed and then I placed his key card on the nightstand and headed to where Roger was waiting for me. We slipped out of the room quietly as we walked down the hall to our rooms. Our rooms were directly opposite one another so we lingered in the hall to say goodbye.
‘Thanks for helping me,’ I said.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said with a dismissive wave.
‘Honestly, there’s no way I would’ve got him back here,’ I said but he cut me off.
‘Y/N honestly it’s not a problem,’ he said with a smile. He watched me closely, looking down at me with such intensity I felt my heart rate quicken. He looked good. His blonde shaggy locks were sticking out in all directions from where he’d been dancing or running his fingers through it and his eyes sparkled in the fluorescent hotel lighting. Then he murmured, ‘I had a good night tonight.’
‘Me too,’ I said.
‘You looked nice tonight,’ he said casually. I could feel my cheeks burning up at the compliment.
‘Thanks,’ I mumbled before turning on my heel and mumbling a, ‘well night then.’
But as I reached for my door I felt his hand on my arm, spinning me around into his arms. He grabbed my face and pulled me to him kissing me with a ferocity I didn’t know he had. I could taste ale and cigarettes but I didn’t care. I melted into him, allowing him to kiss me as he wanted his hands all over as he pulled me to him and walked us into my room.
Our relationship from then on had been pretty much that. Whenever we were alone it was like we couldn’t stop ourselves from tearing the other’s clothes off. Every night without fail one of us would succumb to getting up and going across the hall to slip into the other’s room. But then in front of people, it was entirely different. He was entirely different. He’d talk to me and laugh with me like we were nothing more than friends.
As if he didn’t spend his nights fucking me senseless.
As if his mornings weren’t taken up by us lying in bed together, cuddling and talking about anything and everything.
I was pulled out of my thoughts when I heard my name mentioned and looked up to find everyone looking at me.
‘Sorry?’ I asked looking for some clue as to what I was missing.
‘We were just wondering if you were coming out tonight?’ he asked. I looked between them, my gaze flicking to Roger for a split second. He was watching me carefully as if trying to figure out how his night was going to be impacted. I felt anger flood through me forcing my answer out my mouth, ‘yeah, count me in.’
✵✵✵
Ring….Ring….Ring
My hand fumbled around on the nightstand looking for the source of the noise. I knocked the receiver off of its holder clumsily though I managed to grab it and put it to my ear as I mumbled, ‘Hello?’
‘Hi is this Miss Y/L/N?’ a sweet voice said on the other end of the line.
‘Yeah,’ I yawned rolling onto my back as she continued.
‘This is your wake-up call as requested,’ she said.
‘What time is it?’ I grumbled.
‘8 am as you asked,’ she replied.
‘Right, thanks,’ I said cursing my sober self for being so organised that now hungover me was suffering.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said and then the line disconnected.
As I lay on my back and opened my eyes I tried to ignore just how beaten my body was feeling at this moment in time. Being so annoyed at Roger meant that I had gone a little overboard. Now I was feeling the brunt of my stupidity. My stomach churned as I climbed out of bed feeling sticky from the stale sweat I had been lying in. My head thumped as I rifled around my bag to find some painkillers. I threw them down, thankful that drunk me had been so kind as to leave out a glass of water, and then I headed to the bathroom to get ready.
I spent a little longer than normal in the shower, allowing the warm water to try and make me feel human again. Then I climbed out, threw on some jeans and a T-shirt, and left my room. I woke the boys one by one, knocking on their doors to make sure they were up. Brian was already up and told me he’d be downstairs for breakfast in a minute. John took a knock or two but he opened his door and told me he too would be joining me soon. Freddie was awake but still in bed which meant I had to force my way inside to make sure. He was laying against the headboard watching TV.
‘Why didn’t you open the door?’ I grumbled throwing myself onto his bed.
‘Because I knew you’d save me the trouble and come in,’ he chuckled taking a drag of his cigarette.
‘At least I get to take a cat nap on your bed,’ I said with a sigh as I rested my head on my folded arms.
‘Feeling a little delicate this morning huh?’ he said.
‘You’re a bad influence,’ I grumbled.
‘Oh last night was all you princess,’ he replied. I looked up at him with a scowl.
‘Well I’m feeling it now,’ I said.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing a spot of breakfast can’t fix,’ he said. My stomach churned again, ‘I think it’s just going to be toast for me.’
‘Well I’m coming now,’ he said climbing out of bed, ‘am I your last wake-up call?’
‘No,’ I said quietly as he started gathering some belongings so he could head to the bathroom. He didn’t seem to notice my hesitation I said, ‘just Rog left. Bri and John should be down there by now.’
‘Okay, well I’m just going to shower and I’ll meet you down there,’ he said as he lingered by the bathroom door.
‘Alright,’ I said peeling myself off of the bed.
‘Probably a good job you left him till last,’ he said.
‘Why?’ I asked my curiosity piquing.
‘He only got back late,’ he said.
‘Oh?’ I asked trying to remember if I knew the details of last night. Unfortunately, they weren’t there for me to remember.
‘Yeah,’ he said with a smirk, ‘we came back together but he put you to bed. I left him trying to herd you up the stairs.’
‘Oh,’ I grimaced, the embarrassment of last night returning.
‘Looked about as easy as plaiting fog,’ he chuckled and then he ducked into the bathroom and shut the door. I walked out of the room and headed a door down. Roger’s room.
I knocked gently and listened as I heard movement behind the door which opened a minute later revealing a tired-looking Roger. He was wearing pants but no shirt and I had to admit he looked good.
‘Hey,’ I mumbled. He nodded but didn’t speak as he ducked back into the room. I followed him, shutting the door quietly as I tried to keep the noise to a minimum so as to not aggravate my headache. I sat down on the bed as he put on his clothes, ignoring me.
‘Freddie said you helped me get to bed last night,’ I said after a moment, ‘thank you.’
‘Yeah well better that than you embarrassing yourself again,’ he said as he angrily pulled his T-shirt over his head.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Last night,’ he said folding his arms across his chest, ‘you couldn’t have been more obvious.’
‘And what exactly was I doing?’ I said folding my own arms across my chest as I stood up.
‘You don’t remember?’ he scoffed.
‘Please enlighten me,’ I said.
‘Throwing yourself at that guy right in front of everyone,’ he said loudly. His words hit me like a ton of bricks as I tried to remember my own actions but found myself coming up short, but my lack of recall didn’t mean his words hadn’t sparked anger in me.
‘And?’ I said huffily.
‘And?’ he repeated, ‘it’s embarrassing. Trying to get me to bite because I wouldn’t kiss you.’
‘Maybe I’m just sick of being your sort of girlfriend. Of being someone who’s good enough for a quick shag but you daren’t be seen out in public with,’ I sneered, ‘did you ever think about that?’
‘Y/N,’ he sighed, ‘we’ve talked about it-’
‘Have we?’ I spat, ‘because all I ever remember is you acting like we’re the only two people in the world until there’s actually other people around then it’s like you can’t stand to be with me-’
‘That’s not how it is?’
‘Tell me then,’ I said.
‘Tell you what?’ he asked angrily.
‘Tell me how it is. Do you even like me? Or am I just someone who’s there when you want to get your leg over?’ I shouted standing up. I panicked for a second. The irony that we were arguing about us not going exclusive when everyone important to us was within earshot wasn’t lost on me.
‘Of course, I do,’ he sighed, ‘I’m just not ready.’
‘For what?’ I said, ‘I’m not asking you to marry me, Roger. I’m just asking that we at least acknowledge there’s something between us.’
‘But we work together you’re part of the team what if I fuck it up?’ he asked quietly sinking down onto his bed. I sighed and took a seat next to him though I didn’t look at him. My gaze fixed on the wall, ‘people split up and still work together Rog. It’s not the end of the world.’
‘It might be,’ he said quietly. That got my attention, I looked to my right and found him watching me with a worried look.
‘Why?’ I asked quietly.
‘Because…’ he mumbled dropping his gaze to his lap, ‘because I think I might sorta really like you.’
‘Really?’ I asked cursing myself at the amount of hope my voice dripped with.
‘Yeah,’ he said glancing up at me, ‘so why do we have to label it?’
‘What just be friends who fuck on occasion?’ I smirked. He looked up at me with a bashful expression, ‘is that what you want?’
‘Maybe,’ he said.
‘And what happens if I wanna see someone else huh? Or if you meet some pretty fan on this tour? Do we just pretend that it’s not bothering us?’ I said, ‘because I don’t think I could be okay about that. And I don’t think you are either…if you were I’d have woken up in that guy’s bed this morning.’
‘Yeah I guess you’re right,’ he said, ‘I just worry that if we…you know become a couple and it doesn’t work out I’ll lose you completely…at least this way we get all those moments together…no pressure. Why can’t we just enjoy it?’
‘Because it’s not enough for me Rog,’ I whispered, ‘I can’t hang on hoping one day you’ll want to be with me completely. Because if I do I’ll always be stuck. I either need you to take the chance on us or let me go.’
He nodded and I stood up not looking at him. I wandered to the door and opened it, closing it gently behind me. I could feel tears in my eyes but I blinked them away as I headed downstairs to breakfast. The boys were sitting around a dining table, members of the crew dotted at various other tables. I sat down beside Freddie.
‘How are you feeling darling?’ he asked as he poured me a cup of tea.
‘Alright,’ I lied.
‘Well you look less grey now,’ Brian chuckled, ‘so I guess that’s a good sign.’
‘Well I’m never drinking again,’ I smiled though it felt stiff and forced on my face.
‘Oh I bet,’ John chuckled.
‘Yeah a tenner she breaks the bet by the end of the week,’ Freddie said.
‘There’s what? Three shows this week?’ Brian said calculating the odds in his head, ‘I bet by Wednesday.’
‘Deal,’ Freddie said offering his hand out to Brian who shook it gracefully.
‘My life is not a thing to be gambled on,’ I pouted as the waitress put toast on my table.
‘I beg to differ,’ Freddie said.
‘You know you’re really underestimating the spite factor in this,’ I said sipping my tea, ‘I’ll hold out all damn year if I have to.’
There were some chuckles around the table but as they started planning my downfall Roger appeared at the table sitting down beside me. As they greeted him he threw his arm around my shoulder and pressed a kiss to my temple. I was stunned. The boys shared a glance but they carried on talking as if nothing had happened. I looked at him and he shrugged as he took a piece of toast off my plate.
I smiled.
I guess that was my answer.
#my writing#roger taylor#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor!ben hardy x reader#roger taylor fic#roger taylor ben hardy#queen band#queen fic#queen#Halloween#halloween writing challenge#title
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A Dance Floor All Our Own - Zhongli
Author's Notes: Well, I wrote for one dragon might as well get the other one. I actually wrote this when Zhongli's current gacha came out. It was written while I was listen to "Meteorite" by the band Years and Years but it has little in common with that song. Reader is, as usual, gender-neutral.
Type: Fluff/romantic
Word count: 988
I wasn’t sure how I’d found myself laughing pleasantly alongside Zhongli in an unfamiliar town but here I was. I could recall Zhongli mentioning that he wanted to experience one of Liyue’s more rural festival’s and I’d agreed to go with him to one.
I didn’t know exactly what was being celebrated here but I whirled amongst the other celebrators, laughing alongside the incognito archon as we danced nonetheless.
It was odd, Liyue’s festivals were usually more reticent, but this one reminded me more of something that would happen in Mondstadt.
Everything was bathed in light and everyone was laughing. Music filled the air and sweet smells rolled off of nearby stalls, tempting passers-by with the aroma.
I caught Zhongli’s hands in my own and tugged him backwards, out of the laughing crowd and between two booths, away from the crush of the crowd.
“Having fun?” I laughed, out of breath as I questioned and watched him nod.
His smile was gentle but spoke of great joy as he answered with orange eyes gleaming like the Cor Lapis that shared their color, “Indeed. I hadn’t realized such celebrations existed here or were quite so enjoyable.”
I nodded, immediately agreeing with him as he echoed my earlier thoughts, “What are they celebrating?”
He paused, still breathing heavily from the exertion of dancing as he pondered my question. It was always amusing to see him enter what I fondly thought of as lecture mode but it was even more amusing to watch him do so with the party-like atmosphere surrounding us.
I huffed out a laugh, drawing his attention to me as he shot me a questioning glance. I flapped my hand at him and he hummed, tilting his head but not questioning me. Instead, he answered my earlier query, “I believe it is a celebration of the founding of this village.”
He pointed towards a nearby stand, directing my attention to it as he continued, “Those are all dishes that originate from this area. That one is a particularly delightful regional specialty that isn’t made anywhere but here.”
He then pointed to the brightly colored banners that hung from buildings on either side of the crowded street, “Those are made from cloth originating here.”
I frowned slightly, interrupting his explanation with a question, “How do you know that?”
He smiled, his amusement clear as he answered me, “The shop that made them has a sign proudly proclaiming that all of the banners used in the festival were woven there. We went by it at the town’s entrance.”
I managed a small “Ah” in response before the tempo of the song changed signaling the start of a new tune. People all around us cheered and I watched as sellers abandoned their stalls to flood into the streets alongside dancers, festival hands, and shoppers.
I shot Zhongli a confused glance, but he merely shook his head and gestured towards the crowd, “It appears the festival has reached its peak.”
That was, evidently enough, the case. People wove in and out of each other in a simple dance that everyone took part in. I laughed when one woman in particular reached out and, with a grin, pulled a startled looking Zhongli into the ritualistic swirling.
My laughter was cut off though as a warm hand caught mine and, with an ever so slightly devious grin, Zhongli pulled me after him.
Our hands were soon separated though as dancers broke apart into a new line-up as the song continued. I danced with people I’d never met, laughing slightly as I let them lead me through the unfamiliar dance that everyone but me seemed to know.
I had long since lost sight of Zhongli, concentrating instead on keeping up with those around me. I stretched my arms up towards the sky and looked up, mirroring my neighbor’s motions. My eyes widened at the sight that greeted me, hues of gold stretched across the horizon as the sun set painted the sky above with vibrant reds, yellows and oranges.
I lowered my arms and turned, facing my new partner with a grin. Zhongli’s eyes, the same color as the sky above, met mine. The joy in them was obvious as he deftly twisted and turned, spinning around me but somehow keeping me at his side despite the thronging crowd. Who would have thought Geo archon was so good at dancing?
But that was just how he was, reliable and steady in any environment. I couldn’t think of a time that I hadn’t been able to rely on Zhongli.
Just like the earth he was lord over I could always rely on Zhongli to catch me. Even when my shoes slipped on the paving stones beneath me and I fell against him mid-spin.
I giggled, caught up in the atmosphere as I looked up, half embarrassed, at him. I’d made many memories as I’d ventured through Liyue but I did believe that this one might be my favorite.
Zhongli easily lifted me back to my feet as the music trailed off. The crowd around us began to disperse, stall owners returning to their booths and many dancers abandoning the streets.
I glanced around, noting the slower tune that began to flow through the streets and seemed to calm everyone that heard it. I heard a curious sounding hum and turned to see Zhongli looking towards me with a thoughtful gaze.
Seemingly reaching a decision as I looked towards him he held out a hand, “I am more familiar with this tune…. Would you care for one last dance?”
I glanced down at his outstretched palm, a small smile spreading across my face as I realized I didn’t want this night to end just yet.
And so, as stars slowly began to fill the darkening sky my hand slipped into his and I let him spin me across the cobblestone street. A dance floor all our own.
#Genshin impact x reader#Zhongli x reader#Genshin impact zhongli#I've noticed my genshin impact fics aren't as popular as my twisted wonderland ones#I wonder if I'm just not characterizing genshin impact as well#oh well#genshin impact imagines#Zhongli#Zhongli x y/n#Zhongli x you#Genshin impact x y/n#Genshin impact x you#Zhongli/reader#fluff#romance#mywritings#fanfic#geo archon#peepaw#gender-neutral reader#Liyue#festival#dancing
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@knife-eared-jan replied to your post
Hm I guess this is also what happens to Origins Leliana in the epilogue when she is hardened? It drove me nuts that I couldn't figure out how to change her outfit for that.
You got it! But epilogue Leliana is actually a great example because there's a few things going on there, and while I did say that the approved method of changing the way a character dresses in Origins is to swap out their equipped armor, that was a lie of omission bc the other, SECRET method, as you may have noticed, is to make a FAKE IMPOSTOR CLONE wearing different clothes and pretend that it's actually been the same person all along. Anyway I'm gonna ramble for a bit.
So the "real" Leliana that we know and love is gen00fl_leliana (the fl stands for follower) and this is the Leliana that's added to the party pool, goes on adventures with us, hangs out at our campsite, and gains skills and approval. Meanwhile, the Leliana who appears in the epilogue is a fake pretender to the name, epi200cr_leliana. Who is she. What does she want. She's inscrutable. But she uses the same hf_leliana headmorph, so you'd never know. It's this Leliana who comes pre-equipped with that ugly dress. And then indeed, hidden deep within the bowels of the epi300ar_post_coronation area script is some code that very quickly before anyone can notice swaps her into that even uglier armor in the case that she's hardened.
The "correct" and I'd argue probably "only" "sensible" way to get around this code and put her in whatever you want would be to use PRCSCR to run your own script forcing her into a second outfit change immediately after the first completes. You can go mad with power with a tool like PRCSCR.
(There's quite a bit of other monkeying about that happens in the post-coronation area script. For example, if Zevran is in a romance with a female warden he (or his evil twin) is surrounded by an attentive crowd of ladies, but if the romance is with a male warden, he's swarmed instead by a gaggle of gents. As for the no romance crowd? To quote the script comment in the toolset, "Shady peeps." Happy for him.)
DA2 looooooooves doppelgangers, btw. Nobody loves fakey fake fake clones more than DA2 does. I suppose at one point they may have intended for major NPCs characters to look substantially different between acts, and then had to drop it as out of scope, but then there are also fakey impostor clones of your followers littered throughout various areas of the game. If you ever fought Fenris in the climax or put Bethany down gently in the deep roads, "no" you "didn't". You did stab Anders in the back though. That was the real Anders, just so you know.
Anyway, did you know there are four different Gamlens? One for each act and then one to appear in the brothel. They actually are seven different Gamlens in the game files (including one for the prologue separate from act 1, and a different brothel Gamlen for each act) and then they ended up not using all of them. Why. We'll never know. We'll never ever know why they wanted to do that.
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hello i know a little bit about guilty gear and understand much less, but uh if you want could you do a lore dump on axl low?
I’d be happy to! His story isn’t the most plot significant but it is certainly interesting.
Note: I will be referencing events talked about in my other post so I don’t have to describe every single thing.
An important thing to know about Axl is that his lore is supposed to be convoluted and confusing, because his whole gimmick for the early games is that he is constantly being hurtled back and forth through time against his control. Most of his story beats involve him happening to appear at a certain time and place and be involved in the plot before being thrown through time again.
Axl Low was just a mostly ordinary (for a guilty gear character) guy in late 1900s Britain. He was very skilled at martial arts and took it upon himself to end gang assaults in the neighborhood by fighting gang members. He was apparently very successful and managed to run gangs out of the area without a single casualty. He was dating a girl named Megumi, who he was deeply in love with. They both swore their futures to one another, but fate had other plans. In a completely separate timeline, Megumi was the one chosen to become the vessel of the magical focus that was created by the combined will of humanity to achieve a bright future during the various apocalypses. Megumi was granted godlike power and became I-no. In 1998 in Axl’s timeline, his nearness to Megumi for some reason caused him to be hurtled through time to the year 2178, 3 years after the end of the Crusades.
He spent the next 2 years searching for a way back to his timeline with no success. But then he heard about the Sacred Knights tournament that supposedly granted a wish to the winner, so he joined. The whole thing turned out to be a hoax caused by Testament to resurrect Justice. He aids in the plot to stop Justice and Sol Badguy succeeds in killing Justice. Axl was let down that his opportunity to go back to his time was a lie, but then the crowd of the tournament cheered him on and he realized he could make new friends in this future, right when he reached out to the people he was hurtled through time again.
Most of Axl’s story goes along these lines, he appears at a certain place in time, partakes in whatever plot hijinks is happening, and then gets thrown through time again. None of it is particularly important, and I’m trying to avoid just paraphrasing the wiki page, so I’ll just get to the parts that matter for his overarching story arc. Just know that he does time traveling shenanigans and meets his own double a couple times, at one point he gets sent back to 1998 but before he can talk to Megumi he is whisked away again.
Anyway he eventually learns of That Man and tries to seek him out because he’s supposedly a time traveler. He then meets I-no, who works for That Man at the time. His next important time slip involves him being sent to a desolate future version of 2192, where The Original tells him to deliver a message to That Man, Axl doesn’t understand what the message means but agrees all the same. Then he’s slips through time to Bedman (a creepy guy who lives his entire life in a dream strapped to a robot bed, I don’t really understand Bedman’s lore other than that he tries to kill people a lot of the time)‘s nightmare theater, but before Bedman can kill him, I-no pulls him back through time to the desolate 2192, intending to kill him for knowing about the existence of The Original. He explains that he has a message from The Original so she sends him back through time to give the message to That Man.
Afterwards Axl realized I-no’s time powers can send him back home, so he tracks her down, but when he finds her he learns that if he were to be sent back in time, it could potentially change and destroy the timeline he is currently in, so I-no doesn’t want to do it. Axl gives up on returning home and tries to find purpose here in the future, he eventually even learns to control the time powers he has, allowing him to slow down, compress, and potentially even freeze time.
From this point on Axl doesn’t slip through time much if at all. He tries not to look back on the past, but eventually realizes it would be possible to trade places with Megumi, bringing her to the future at the cost of himself, but that it wouldn’t succeed at bringing them together.
Axl starts having premonitions of the future, including one where Happy Chaos (who used to be The Original) tells him that they haven’t seen eachother since 2192 (the year he met The Original in the desolate future). Axl gets a premonition that something bad is going to happen at a certain area of the city, on the day when it happens, Happy Chaos blows up a building to free Nagoriyuki (a black vampire samurai and one of the coolest characters in guilty gear) as Chaos intends to take control of Nagoriyuki and use him for his plot to restore I-no to godhood. When the explosion happens, Axl freezes time and teleports the civilians in the building to safety, where he meets and has a brief conversation with I-no.
At the end of the Strive storyline, when I-no has ascended to godhood and is fighting with essentially everyone else who don’t want her to abuse her power, Axl tries to reason with her, but it doesn’t work. Axl and Ky distract her, and Sol Badguy steals her magic electric guitar and uses it to strike a presumably lethal blow to I-no. While she lay there presumably dying, Axl cries and begs her to remember something. With I-no defeated Axl finds himself alone in a park, when suddenly Megumi from his timeline appears next to him bearing a message from I-no. I believe the implication is that I-no did what Axl considered earlier, trading places with the Megumi from his timeline to bring her to the future, this way in the end Axl and Megumi finally get to be together, and I-no’s whereabouts and even whether or not she is still alive remain a mystery. And Axl and Megumi lived happily ever after.
I just wanted to say that since Axl is one of the few characters with a definitive concrete end to his story arc, I’m curious how/if it will be continued whenever the next guilty gear releases, but that is a long ways away
#guilty gear#Axl Low#I hope this was more interesting than just reading a wiki page#although I can’t guarantee it being any more informational at all
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Based on a real love story: Bride of Istanbul
The second time of Istanbullu Gelin - Bride of Istanbul has quite recently begun. We can say it was one of the most incredible performing show of 2017 and we might say that it is will be the best series of 2018 as well.
Aslı Enver and Özcan Deniz in Istanbullu Gelin - Bride Of Istanbul
Lady of Istanbul depends on a genuine romantic tale, a youthful delightful vocalist Ülkü Üst and a youthful finance manager Ali Sarpkan felt love and wedded in 1975. Ülkü Üst was Kurulus Osman of the young lady band Beyaz Kelebekler (White Butterflies) and wedded with Ali Sarpkan. Be that as it may, Ali Sarpkan's family was a conservative family and they didn't acknowledge Ülkü from the outset, Ülkü took a stab at all that to save her marriage even at the expense of losing her vocation as a vocalist.
Ülkü Üst Sarpkan - The vocalist of the popular band Beyaz Kelebekler
The storyline of the series of this romantic tale is modernized and included more mind boggling connections. Ülkü's name is changed to Süreyya and is played by Aslı Enver and Ali's name is changed to Faruk and played by Özcan Deniz.
Özcan Deniz as Faruk in Bride of Istanbul
Faruk is a youthful and rich and an advanced financial specialist, yet his family is driven by his mom Esma (played by Ipek Bilgin) who is a hard conservative and extreme chief. Esma was arranging Faruk to wed with Ipek (played by Dilara Aksüyek) Süreyya is played by Aslı Enver, is a cutting edge craftsman and who lost her folks and raised by her auntie. They experience passionate feelings for in Istanbul and they got hitched without Faruk's family's endorsement. Faruk carries Süreyya to his 400-year-old family artisan and the circumstance turns out to be in excess of a social clash.
Aslı Enver and Özcan Deniz in Istanbullu Gelin - Bride Of Istanbul
Later in the principal season, the crowd was astonished by Faruk's experience. This might be a major spoiler, so we really want to say that the storyline has significant contrasts with the first story.
This series is a piece not the same as normal eastern and western clash. It's about custom and current decisions additionally lady's circumstance is likewise oppressed. Süreyya is major areas of strength for a, Faruk's mom is additionally serious areas of strength for a, nonetheless, the primary struggle is what is going on society, Süreyya safeguards a feminst line; remaining on her own feet, can go with her own choices, and she doesn't need to submit to the cultural emphaticness. By appear differently in relation to Süreyya, Esma shields a conventional line; disregarding ruling the house she guards male centric construction, she imagines that lady has the obligation to hold the family together and protects it from all dangers comes from outside.
Lady of Istanbul cast
Özcan Deniz is most popular from well known show Asmalı Konak, later he featured in numerous heartfelt television series and motion pictures. We can say he is the heartfelt star of Turkish TV.
Aslı Enver as Süreyya in Bride of Istanbul
Aslı Enver is a youthful entertainer and she was hitched with Birkan Sokullu in 2012, the couple separated in 2015and Aslı Enver began a relationship with renowned artist Murat Boz. In 2017 Murat Boz trapped in a pleasant night with Bahar-Nihal Candan sisters that caused the couple's separation. Iw was likewise reputed that subsequent to saying a final farewell to Murat Boz, Aslı Enver began to date with Özcan Deniz, however this was distorted by both.
A scene from shooting of the second time of Bride of Istanbul in Prague
İstanbullu Gelin - The Bride of Istanbul is truly adored by Turkish crowd. Some way or another the series pulled in a wide scope of individuals in various social classes. The subsequent season scores better in evaluations.
The series is circulated on Fridays on Star TV at 20:00 (Istanbul Time)
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• Like A Volcano | Part Five | •
Han Jisung Mini Series
© itshannjisung, 2024
♡ itsseohannbins masterlist ♡
Series Masterlist
Chapter Genre: Angst⚡️Fluff💕Crack💥
-Bestfriends to Lovers Trope-
Summary: being best friends with the kings of kpop always has its ups and downs, and when you're offered a spot on the next European-American book tour to promote the publishing of your new book, there's one kpop king in particular who just doesn't want you to go.
Pairing: Idol!Han Jisung x Female Reader x Bestfriend Skz
** Includes two of my own original female characters, both whom are romantically involved with two of the members. Chan x Jo / Minho x Ash **
Warnings: Swearing. mentions of pregnancy. mentions/consumptions of alcohol. brief mention of bar fights. PDA. making out. slight suggestive themes. toothrotting fluff towards the end. the boys do not use honorifics.
lmk if I missed any!!
Word Count: 7.9k
**this chapter has been slightly changed & revised**
Enjoy!
The nightclub looked exactly how you remembered it to be; overly crowded, disgustingly sweaty and loud enough that you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts.
There was a point in time when this very scene was exactly what you and your friends thrived off of. The hundreds of slick bodies rubbing against each other in time with the music, the endless supply of alcohol that you would all take advantage of until the early hours of the morning, the open-concept layout that allowed you access to every square inch of the building, VIP or not.
Now, the eleven of you preferred nights in with take-out, karaoke, gaming, home-mixed drinks and old movies. Very rarely did you guys ever go out like this, so when you did, you guys always made the absolute most of it.
Bright neon lights and signs littered the old brick walls. The main dance floor still stood directly in the middle of the club, separated by a few steps downward to give it a sunken-in look. The DJ stage sat above it, strobe lights flashing every color and design in time to whatever was playing over the speakers.
The main dance floor was accessible to everyone, and there were multiple staircases leading up to the mezzanine level where the VIP section sat. From up there, you’d have a full view of the bars, the dance floor and the seating areas, though the VIP section had a bar and seating section of its own.
You knew your friends would be up there in the same private seating section they’d claimed upon one of the first visits to the club after debut oh-so many years ago. The staff made sure to rope it off so anyone who wasn’t apart of the Stray Kids entourage wouldn’t get in.
Big, burly men stood guard at each staircase, ensuring only VIPS got access upstairs, and you would’ve been intimidated by them all if they weren’t all Changbin’s gym buddies who, like Dae-hyun, knew you and your friends closely.
As your feet carried you forwards, further into the heat and humidity that clung to the air, you felt some of your tenacity begin to slip. If Jisung was in here hooking up with some girl, it’d be nearly impossible to find him in the ever-growing crowd. There must’ve been some sort of event happening as there seemed to be more people bustling around than usual.
You took a quick detour to the nearest bar and topped up on some liquid courage, the bartender adding it to Changbins ever-growing tab, before making your way to a staircase, trying to avoid the stares and glares you received from nearly everyone you passed by.
When you approached the familiar security guard standing post at the bottom of the metal stairs, you smiled brightly up at him.
“Ye-jun, hey! The rest of the gang is upstairs, yeah?” you asked as you stopped next to him briefly. Ye-jun, who smiled brightly at your sudden appearance, just sighed and gave you a once over before shaking his head and laughing at you in amusement.
“Why am I not surprised that you’re the one walking in here rocking a three-day walk of shame outfit?” he teased. “I’m gonna’ have to have a serious talk with Dae after shift about letting you in here lookin’ like that.”
You punched him lightly in the arm.
“Fuck you Ye, you know I look good.” you teased right back. You made sure to twirl your body in a circle for added affect, causing Ye-jun’s lower lip to fall between his teeth, his eyes darkening with appreciation.
“Yeah, maybe a little too good, y/n. Jisung better smarten the hell up and get his ass in gear before someone snatches you up. Or worse, I do.”
Your initial reaction was to laugh, but the reality of his words only caused you to sigh and run a hand down your already sweaty face.
“Has Ji been that bad?” you asked, not really wanted to know the answer.
If Jisung and his behavior was beginning to cause problems for the club staff, you were going to kill him. Ye-jun shook his head and laughed at the concerned look on your face.
“No. Bad would’ve been eight months ago when I had to drag him out of the bathroom and into a taxi because he was crying so hard over you that he threw up all over one of the couches upstairs. Now he just jumps from woman to woman, causing fights to break out and making security have to work double time.” he explained, chuckling whole-heartedly at the sheer embarrassed that was now plastered to your features at the news.
“Oh my fucking God.” you exasperated. “I am so sorry, Ye.”
Ye-jun waved off your worries with a smile.
“Don’t be. We’ve had some good action in the time you’ve been gone, mostly from the women he double-times. Cat fights, smashed bottles, broken chairs, wigs being torn off, drinks thrown, nails breaking. Oh yeah, the guys and I have been nothing short of amused lately.”
You buried your face in your free hand while heat rushed to your cheeks and covered the tips of your ears. “Jesus, Ye. Why haven’t you kicked us out and banned us yet?” you only half joked. Ye-jun just shrugged and leaned against the railing as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“Bad publicity. Throwing out a group of idols would look bad no matter how we’d try and spin it. Plus, like I said, the guys and I are loving it. Standing here for twelve hours checking wrist bands isn’t really as enticing as it may seem.”
You gave him a wicked smile at that last part.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I feel like starting a fight then.” you winked, though you still felt awful about the crap Jisung’s put the staff through. Ye-jun chuckled and shook his head one last time at you as you tapped his arm goodbye and ran up the stairs, feeling more desperate to find Jisung than before.
The air upstairs was noticeably lighter, making it easier to breathe the second you reached the top. Behind the panes of glass that bordered off the VIP section, the music was slightly muffled, allowing your mind a moment of peace from the commotion and noise coming from behind you.
You pushed your way through the groups of people that cluttered the area, thanking the heavens it was less crowded up here than it was down below, and stopped just a few feet away from the section where your friends sat. You watched the six bodies that were currently present, admiring your friends in awe.
Hyunjin was perched on the armrest of one of the two couches, sipping his drink while he observed the people around him, no doubt looking for someone to pique his interest. Jeongin sat next to him against the cushions, picking away at the large plate of food that sat on the table in front of him.
Ash and Minho were in their own little world on the other couch, the two of them whispering and giggling to one another as they scrolled through Ash’s phone. They’d stop briefly and exchange looks of intimacy and small, soft kisses before resuming, causing you to blush and look away in order to grant them some privacy.
Jo and Chan were, unexpectedly, also indulging themselves in some PDA, which confused you to the core. Jo was never one for public displays of affection, she usually avoided it like the plague, and Chan was always so fine with it; he too preferred it that way, their intimacy save for the privacy of their bedroom.
But alas, here they were. Jo was sitting sideways on Chans lap, her arms wrapped lovingly around his shoulders as his hands held her tightly at the waist, his face buried into her neck. She was giggling softly to herself as he continued his attack on her skin, leaving kisses along her jaw and throat before dipping to her collarbone momentarily and then tracing his path back upwards. The others didn’t seem to mind, paying them no attention, which only left you feeling more out of the loop.
Something was going on.
You had opened your mouth to question what was going on, to ask when Hell hath frozen over for them to be doing such things publicly, without a care, but you barely got a sound out before Jeongin practically squealed in disbelief.
“Oh my God, Noona?”
He jumped from his spot on the couch, his half eaten chicken wing forgotten as he ran to you with open arms. The remaining five bodies all jumped in surprise at his outburst and they turned to watch as he bulldozed into you, nearly knocking you clean off your feet.
“Y/n?” Hyunjin questioned in time to Jeongins movements as the younger squeezed your waist tightly. Realisation hit him quickly, and before you knew it, he was rushing to your side almost as quick as Jeongin had.
“Is it really you? Are you really here?” Jeongin asked, his smile brighter than the sun. He barely had enough time to move out of the way before Hyunjin’s large figure came crashing into the two of you.
“Bunny? What the heck are you doing here?” Hyunjin interrupted your reply around a laugh as his hands came up to cup your face so he could hold you still and properly look at you. It was as if he didn’t believe you were actually standing before him in the flesh. He had your face squished so much between his palms that your lips were jutting outwards and you couldn’t form any sort of response back to him.
“Jesus Hyune, give the girl room to breathe.” Jo spoke as she hopped of Chans lap and approached the three of you with a smile. “She’s here to see me, obviously.”
Hyunjin let go of your face and rolled his eyes at Jo’s words as he stepped out of her way so she could greet you.
“Yes, yes. We all know you two are secretly lesbian lovers.” he dramatically spewed with a shake of his head as he returned to his spot on the armrest of the couch.
“It’s true.” you joked back as you pulled Jo in for a tight hug, happy to see her back to usually cheerful self. “Jo and I are helplessly in love.”
Chan was right behind her, wrapping his arms around the both of you and squishing Jo between your two bodies.
“We had a feeling you’d show.” he quipped before stepping away, allowing Minho and Ash to come forward next. The two of them hugged you warmly before everyone returned to their seats. Jeongin had grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the couch where he and Hyunjin had been sitting, plopping you down in between the two of them.
“Seriously though, what are you doing home? I thought the tour wasn’t done for another month? What’s going on? And what happened to your arm? Why are you dressed like that? Is everything okay?” Jeongins questions came at you in rapid fire as he began picking at his food once more, a look of concern washing over his features. You sighed and rubbed at your eye, taking a moment to think about how to respond.
“It’s a long story,” you decided. “One we can get into later if you’re really interested and concerned.” you patted Jeongins hand reassuringly. “As for my arm, I fractured it back in Amsterdam. I’m okay though, so please don’t worry.” You reached out to pull a cold fry off the platter on the table but Hyunjin’s hand shot out and grabbed you before you could.
“Uh oh. I’m sensing drama.” he stated, his eyes wide as he looked at you in anticipation. He then went on to ask you the one question you dreaded being asked since your plane left the Amsterdam tarmac. Jo, Ash, Chan and Minho all groaned at his curiosity, though Jeongin looked just as intrigued.
“Where’s whats-his-name?”
You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of questions that would no doubt follow your response. You were hoping you’d have more time before the situation was brought up despite coming all the way here and surprising them. You were too focused on your task at hand to think of appropriate responses while in the taxi ride here, and you mentally scolded yourself for it.
“He’s not here.” you stated simply, surprising yourself with how easy it was to say despite everything Seojun put you through. Hyunjin eyed you as his fingers laced with yours. He seemed to have caught onto the seriousness of the situation and chose his next words carefully.
“Not here as in back at your apartment? Or not here as in-”
“Not here as in not in my life anymore.” you interjected, squeezing his large hand for comfort. Jeongin’s face fell slightly at the news, his lips turning downwards into a frown.
“I’m sorry Noona. I know you really liked him.” he pouted for you. You were quick to wave off his worries as you patted his cheek affectionately, ignoring the way your stomach churned at Jeongin’s claim.
“Innie, please, don’t be sorry. I dodged a bullet with that one, believe me.” you assured him with a smile, mimicking Juho’s words from the other night. Jeongin was half-way through a concerned nod before Seungmin’s voice echoed throughout the small area, his sweaty face lighting up like a Christmas tree upon seeing you sitting before him.
“Holy shit. Y/n?” Disbelief coated his words as he hesitated to move. It wasn’t until you smiled his way and stood up from the couch with your arms open wide did he rush to you like a puppy, scooping you up in his arms and spinning the two of you around. As soon as he put you down a moment later, he pulled you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice an octave higher as his surprise and joy seeped into his tone. You glanced up at him and smiled before bumping your nose against his chin.
“I just missed you guys so much, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to come home before I lost my mind.” you answered jokingly before a mischievous smirk spread across your face. “I’m actually here to confess my love.”
Seungmin’s eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows shooting up his exposed forehead, his lip quivering for an uncertain moment as he tried to read your facial features. He knew about your infatuation with Jisung, nearly everyone at this point did, so his smile was wary and unsure as your hands lifted to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He swallowed awkwardly, his arms tightening around you as his eyes squinted down at your curiously.
“Confess to who?” he drawled out. Your smirk grew bigger at his inquiry.
“To Jisung, obviously.”
As expected, Seungmin’s face twisted up into a look of discontent and disgust, though his smile never fully faded, his grip still tight around your waist. He knew your heart belonged to his bandmate, but it never stopped him from relentlessly flirting with you every change he got.
“Why would you want to confess to him when your knight in shining armour is literally standing right here in front of you?”
You laughed and scoffed before ruffling his now-blonde hair and giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Seung, you know I love you, but-”
“Yeah, yeah. Not the way you love him.” he waved off your affection with a laugh of his own as he wiped your kiss from his cheek. “He’s nothing but a loser trapped in his own aluminium foil, and for some reason, you’re into that.” he playfully rolled his eyes and frowned as he let you go. A pout sat at his lips as he took your spot on the couch and helped himself to the food you were eating.
“Don’t be pouty.” you mocked.
“I’m not?” Seungmin answered, his frown still present. “I’m just glad it was one of us and not that jackass.”
“One of you that what?” you quipped.
“One of us that you fell in love with. I mean, it should’ve been me, honestly, because I’m irresistibly funny and more handsome than Jisung will ever be, but I won’t hold it against you. As long as you come sit with me.” Seungmin joked around, patting his lap for you to sit down.
You rolled your eyes at him and ignored his invitation, glancing around the VIP section to see if you could spot Jisung. You knew he wouldn’t be up here, it would be obvious if he was, but you still looked for him regardless.
“Where is Ji anyways?” you asked no one in particular. “I need to talk to him before my confidence wears off.”
You didn’t realise you had been bouncing anxiously from foot to foot, toying with the hem of your (Jisung’s) shirt until Ash had reached out and grabbed a hold of your hand, her thumb running soothing circles across your knuckles to help ease your nerves.
“Last I saw he was down on the dance floor with Bin and Felix.” Seungmin answered as he leaned back into the leather couch, his mouth nearly stuffed full with nachos.
Just as you were about to open your mouth and ask who wanted to join you for a dance, Changbin showed up looking sweaty and out of breath. He whizzed past Chan and Jo, who had resumed their intimate acts of affection, and reached for a glass, gulping half of it down before he even noticed you standing there. Upon meeting your gaze, his eyes widened and he nearly spat his drink out across the space between the two of you.
“Bunny?” Felix shouted in surprise as he appeared, pushing past the ropes and coming forward to immediately pull you into a gentle hug before Changbin could. “What the hell are you doing here? When did you get back?”
You squeezed your arms around him for a moment, melting into his familiar embrace before you pulled away and held him at arms length, observing his change in style.
“I got back this morning. But you? What did you do to your hair?” you exclamied upon seeing it, the bright blue color harmonizing his skin tone perfectly. Felix blushed and swiped his hand through the loose locks, smiling down at his feet.
“You like it? I think it looked great. They did such a good job for comeback.”
“It looks incredible!” you gushed as your hands reached up to touch it. You were expecting the strands to be dry and damaged from all the product they must’ve used to bleach it and then dye it, but it was as soft as a feather.
“Yah!” Changbin then interrupted in his loud voice, the tone only slightly annoyed. “Is this why the four of you rushed out of the house so quickly this morning? To go pick her up?” He addressed Chan, Jo, Minho and Ash as he came in for a hug. The four of them nodded in response.
“Why didn’t you tell us she was back!” He asked as he wrapped his strong arms around you and squished you tighter than anyone else had.
“She didn’t want you guys to know she was back until she was ready.” Chan explained calmly, glancing at you before he continued on. “She’s had a lot of shit happen in the last few months and she really needed a rest before you heathens brought more chaos into your life.” He gave you a silent look to see how you’d react to his explanation, but his honestly barely bothered you.
“Because you guys are animals and I needed to fully recharge my battery before facing all eight of you again. I missed you guys a lot, but my time away has dwindled my patience.” you joked as you wiggled in Changbins iron-like embrace. He waited a few more seconds before loosening his grip, allowing you room to breathe. He then held you at arms length and gave you a once over, a look of concern crossing his features before a giggle escaped his lips.
“Your sense of style also seems to be dwindling.” he teased, shaking his head similar to how Ye-jun had. “What the hell are you wearing?” he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
You rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully away from you.
“Keep it in your pants, Bin. I’m here for Jisung, not you.”
You expected Changbin to dramatically clutch his heart and fall to his knees the way he’d done so many times in the past, but instead, he tensed under your touch at the mention of Jisung’s name. A laboured breath left his throat and your stomach began to turn.
“Fuck me.” he whispered as he closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose in distress..
“Bin, what’s wrong?” your voice squeaked. You knew his answer just by the look of sheer guilt in his eyes, but it still stung to hear the words out loud.
“He just went off to dance with some girl.” he admitted shyly as he scratched the back of his neck. There was barely enough time for the information to reach your ears before Jo suddenly burst out in a fit of annoyance.
“Binnie, what the hell?” she sucked in a breath at his words, a look of betrayal on her face. “Remember when I told you guys not to let him do that tonight? This is why. Cause y/n’s back, you idiot!”
Changbin shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up in surrender.
“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know Bunny was back, or I would’ve stopped him! I just wanted to let the kid have some fun!” he tried to justify his actions, but Jo wasn’t having any of it. She nearly growled as she rose from Chan’s lap, causing him to reach out to stop her.
You watched as Chan grabbed her by the waist to prevent her from beating Changbin to death with her bare fists, his hands resting protectively across her stomach. He stood with the momentum and nuzzled his face into her neck, whispering lightly into her ear. He was being overly affectionate with her despite the tension that surrounded the two of them earlier in the morning during the ride back to your apartment, and you were becoming more and more confused.
“Jo, Love, please relax. You don’t want to get too riled up. Think about your blood pressure.” you heard him barely whisper as he tried to talk Jo down, his hands moving to rest on her upper arms.
You knew something was going on but you never expected the next words to leave Chan’s mouth.
“Think of the baby.” he murmured. He thought he had spoken low enough for no one to hear, but you did. Everyone did, and everyone minus Ash and Minho whipped their heads in their direction with matching looks of shock crossing their features, Changbins fuck-up momentarily forgotten.
“I’m sorry, WHAT?” you shouted in surprise.
Chan’s face flushed red and Jo scowled playfully at him.
“Nice going Chris.” she mumbled as she smacked his arm lightly. Chan just let out a sheepish smile and rested his chin on her shoulder as he pulled her back down onto his lap.
“Excuse me?” Changbin was having a hard time comprehending the news.
“You’re pregnant?” Jeongin and Felix spoke at the same time that Hyunjin and Seungmin let out choked noises of surprise. Jo hesitated for a minute to look at Chan before the biggest smile you’d ever seen from her spread across her face. She looked joyful, ironically like a child, and adoration sparkled in her eyes.
“Surprise?” she offered. Smiles and shouts of joy began to slip out as the initial shock wore off of everyone, each of the members present standing to hug and congratulate the happy couple on their news. Seungmin just leaned forward from his spot on the couch to try and give his leader a high-five amidst the chaos.
“Alright Chan! Fifty points for managing to put a Joey in the pouch!” he laughed maniacally. Everyone except Chan laughed at Seungmins inappropriate joke.
Chan instead just deadpanned at his younger member, the signature disappointed dad sigh making a comeback as he shook his head. He looked as if he was ready to put Seungmin up for adoption.
“Seungmin, never ever in your life say those words to me ever again.”
Seungmin just laughed as he forcefully pulled one of Chan’s hands off of Jo’s stomach and high-fived himself with it, looking mischievous and every bit proud of himself. Everyone shook their heads at him before you brought attention back to Jo and Chan.
“So, how far along are you?” you asked.
“Do you guys know the gender yet?” Felix then chided in.
“Oh God, I don’t know if I’m ready to be an Uncle to two idiots just yet.” Hyunjin cried, earning a smack on the back of his head from Minho.
“If it’s a boy can we name it after JYP?”
Jo laughed at the impending questions and hugged Chan tighter to her chest as she answered each of them happily, her body practically dripping with excitement.
“I’m almost four months along. No, we don’t know the gender, we want to keep it a surprise. And no, Seung? We’re not naming it after JYP?” she scowled at Seungmin’s suggestion. You could practically see the wheels of mischeif spinning wildly in his mind, and you decided then to interrupt his next words with a clap of your hands.
“I think this calls for a celebratory drink for everyone! In honor of the both of you.” you interjected, addressing both Ash and Jo in your statement. “By this time next year, we’ll have a mini-Jo and a mini-Min running around together, wreaking havoc with their parents in tow, and I think it’s best for us all to get a head start on the numbing process now.”
Everyone giggled and cheered at your suggestion. All but Chan. His attention was zeroed in on something past the window and down onto the main dance floor.
“I think the drinks can wait.” he said. When his eyes found yours, he nodded and motioned down to the crowd of people who were dancing and singing to the music. You paced to the window and peered through the glass to see what he was looking at.
At first, you weren’t sure what caught his eye. The flickering lights and hordes of people made it difficult to spot what he did, but after a sudden flash of white light lit up the room, it was hard to miss the silver-blonde mop of hair on Jisungs head as he squeezed his way through the crowd, his hands intertwined with a girls.
You gulped loudly as you watched him pull the female away from the dance floor and towards the darkened corners where the bathrooms were located. A wave of heat washed over you and you suddenly felt sick to your stomach from the sight of him with someone else. Someone that wasn’t you.
Everyone had gotten up and peeked through the window to see what you and Chan were looking at, and then they all looked towards you to gauge your reaction and anticipate your next move. Minho must’ve sensed your sudden lack of confidence because he held the remainder of his drink out to you and waited for you to take it before he spoke softly.
“Remember what I said, y/n.” he clicked his tongue. “You deserve happiness. You deserve love. You deserve him. Now go get him.”
The jealousy that sat idly in your bloodstream flared to life as you downed your drink without a problem, barely tasting the whiskey on your tongue while your eyes followed Jisung. You nodded at Minho’s words, but your feet refused to move.
This was it.
This was what you came here for.
This is what pulled you off your couch and dragged you to this nightclub without a second thought, without a single care at to what you looked like and what the outcome could’ve been.
Maybe you should’ve changed your clothes.
This was what your heart ached for,
He was what your heart aced for.
And it was time to get him back.
You nodded your head again as you felt the alcohol coat your system with a new wave of confidence. You took a deep breath before you glanced to your right where Seungmin was sipping on his glass of expensive vodka through a straw.
Before he could react, you pulled the glass from his hand and tilted your head back, chugging as much of it back as you could.
“Oh, that’s not-” Seungmin paused and watched in awe as you downed the entire glass. “That’s not water.” he finished quietly to himself as you handed him the empty glass and wiped the corners of your mouth, letting the vodka give you that extra boost you needed to get your feet moving.
Satisfied, you turned on your heel and walked away from your friends without another word. Despite the excitement that still hung in the air at Jo and Chans announcement, all nine of them shotued and cheered for you as you made your way out of the VIP area and down to find Jisung, causing others to send weird looks your way.
Your feet seemed to be moving in double time as you became more and more determined, pushing through the waves of people and making your way to the bathrooms, desperately hoping Jisung would still be in the area.
You weren’t about to lose you chance again.
You’d fight the girl with your bare fists if you had to; anything for another chance.
As the alcohol settled in your system, you felt your head grow tipsy, boosting your confidence impossible more. The crowd grew more and more dispersed the closer you got to the bathrooms, making it easier to breathe.
Easier to find exactly who you were looking for.
He was hard to miss.
He had the girl pushed up against the wall near the corner. Her hands were running ravenously over his body; up his back, across his shoulders, into his hair and down again. His face was buried into the crook fo her neck and her smile was blissful even in the dim light as he sucked and bit at her skin.
Upon seeing him in this compromising position, you almost blushed and turned away to leave them be, accepting the fact that he’d moved on from you, but you noticed quickly that Chan had been right. Jisungs hands were planted firmly against the wall he had her up against, and his body was rigid, still, as if he wasn’t enjoying himself in the slightest. That was enough to make you stay.
He was wearing one of his infamous sleeveless shirts, black and worn out and distressed, much like yours was, and fitted black jeans. His silver-blonde hair that you’d seen online in the comeback trailer was long and messy, sweat causing it to stick up and out in all directions while the girls hands tugged and pulled at it.
The way his shirt hugged his broad shoulders made his back muscles extremely visible, his honey-colored biceps and forearms flexing deliciously as the pressure he applied to the wall rose and fell in time with his heavy breathing. The shirt clung to his body, slick with sweat, exposing his thin waist.
He looked absolutely delectable.
You watched as the girl raised one of her bare legs and wrapped it around his hips, a moan escaping her lips as she tried to pull him closer to her. It was the most dramatic, unnattractive sound you’d ever heard and you sensed she was most likely doing it for his benefit rather than her own, attempting to gt him to touch her, but he resisted.
You felt a surged of pride as you noted it. Yes, you trusted Chan and everything he told you, but seeing it with your own two eyes made it more real, more special.
Jisung didn’t want anyone but you, refused to touch anyone but you.
It made you shudder in delight.
Then, as if on cue, the most delicious groan you’ve ever heard escaped from Jisung’s throat, causing a shiver to shoot up your spine.
“Bubby,” he whined, his voice hot with lust as he practically cried. “Y/n, please.”
That was all you needed to hear; the only thing that sent you flying towards the two at full speed before you could even register what was happening.
He didn’t want her, he wanted Bubs.
He wanted you.
With more confidence than you’ve had all night, you walked right up behind him and laced your fingers into the belt loop of his jeans. In one swift motion, you whirled him off of the girl and pushed him into the corner, caging him with your arms on either side of his face.
You ignored the girl’s confused huffs of anger as Jisung was ripped from her grasp, and pressed your body against him in all the right places, your leg inserting itself between his, your lips coming up to whisper in his ear.
Jisung wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute he was sucking the neck of a girl he didn’t bother learning the name of, doing everything he could to block the image of you from his mind, and the next he was being pushed into a corner.
His first drunken instinct was to fight against whoever it was who overpowered him, which was futile given how much alcohol he’d consumed already, concluding it was probably one of the bouncers looking to throw him out for god knows what this time. But, when he was met with your familiar scent, when the lavender and vanilla hit his senses at full force, his body nearly shut down. When your soft, sweet voice whispered into his ear, the voice that always seemed to bring him back home, he went nearly limp with relief.
“I’m right here Sung. Bubs is here.” you had whispered against his earlobe.
Immediately, his arms wrapped around your waist as your words hit him. For the first time in almost a year and a half, he felt like he was being saved, like he was waking from a dream, a nightmare.
He felt as if he had been spacebound for decades and your voice was the tether he needed to bring him back to earth. Like he had been drowning for an eternity and your voice alone was all he needed to breach the surface and breathe in the oxygen that was you.
He inhaled and slowly opened his eyes, terrified that he’d come face to face with a total stranger, someone who smelled and sounded exactly like you, the love of his life, but wasn’t.
When his eyes slitted open and they found yours staring back at him with nothing but adoration and lover and wonder, his arms tightened impossibly more around you and he practically lost his breath.
With your hair pulled into the remnants of a messy bun, dark bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, the small mole on your left cheek that matched his almost too perfectly, he thought you looked absolutely stunning.
The freckles that scattered across your nose and cheeks like stars in the night sky, the shirt, his shirt, hanging off your body, your shorts barely poking out from beneath the hem, the fucking converse on your feet.
No one could ever compare.
Maybe it was the alcohol swimming through his system, or simply just the lights from the club behind you, but he swore you had an angelic glow.
His savior.
You had come back for him.
Despite the overwhelming amount of happiness that poured into his bloodstream at just the sight of you alone, despite never feeling so relieved in his entire life, his face turned downwards into a scowl as he made eye contact with you.
He didn’t mean for it, but he wanted, needed, to protect his heart.
“What are you doing here y/n?”
His eyes burned into yours. You could tell by the fire in them that he was still mad at you for everything that happened, but the grip he had on your hips and the ever-growing bulge in his pants that was pressed against your thigh told you a completely different story.
“I’m here for you, Ji.” you spoke calmly, adoringly.
Jisung let out a sarcastic laugh and shook his head as he sobered up and glanced around where you had him cornered. He was fighting an internal battle with himself and wasn’t sure which side would win. The side that was still heartbroken and furious at you for leaving and running off with a man who didn’t love you as much as he did, or the side that wanted so badly to melt into your embrace and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.
“What’s wrong? Seojun couldn’t fulfill your needs so now you’re back here looking for me to do it instead?”
Ouch. That one stung.
You expected a bad reaction from him, but nothing like that. You nearly flinched away from his words. Your first instinct was yelling at you to start a fight and let the tears slip, it’s what you were used to from Seojun after all, but Jisung wasn’t speaking maliciously, at least not completely. He had no sides of the story and you knew that.
That was the only reason you took a deep breath and forced a conversation out of your system instead of the usual screaming match you had grown accustomed to in your time away.
“That’s not what’s going on, Sung.”
“Isn’t it though? You had him and you got bored and now you’re back for me.”
He watched you through hooded eyes as you shook your head at his words, but he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he spoke up again.
“Y/n, I love you just as much as I did the day you left, probably more so now that I know what it’s like to live without you, but I vowed to myself that day that I’d never let myself be anyones second choice.”
A heartbroken sigh shattered your body at his words, causing you to shake your head even harder at what he was insinuating.
“That’s just it Jisung. You’re not my second choice.” you breathed out around the lump that was quickly forming in your throat. You exhaled a shaky breath before continuing, not missing the way his eyes widened slightly at your claim.
“You’ve never been my second choice. You’ve always been my first. Even when I ran off with some asshole who didn’t give a flying fuck about me, when I embarked on an adventure that left me feeling nothing but lonely and empty inside, when I laid awake night after night missing home and wishing desperately I could go back, you’ve always been my first. And I tried to deny it and I tried to run away from it, but I couldn’t. I can’t anymore. You’re undeniable. You’re the only one my heart has ever belonged to. It’s been yours since day one.”
Jisung went still and silent at that, his eyes observing yours closely as he searched for any remains of doubt or skepticality in your resolve, anything that would tell him you were exaggerating or lying, but he found none.
He was suddenly hit with a brick of emotions as he found nothing but honesty and love staring back at him. He was and always would be your number one. He could see that now as clearly as he could see the universe in your eyes every damn time he looked into them.
“What are you saying y/n?” he whispered out so quietly you barely heard him.
A soft smile curled the corners of your mouth as you reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face, trying to get a better look at his honey-colored skin and adorable brown eyes.
“I think you know exactly what I’m saying.” you whispered back in the same tone. It was a miracle the two of you heard each other at all over the loud music. But at this moment, the two of you were just lost in your own little world, everything else seemed muffled, unimportant.
A smile then pulled at Jisungs mouth, one that wasn’t mean or sarcastic or insincere. A genuine smile, and you knew at that moment you had him. You got him back, and the utter relief that shook your body was powerful enough to make your knees weak.
He was yours.
“I think I want to hear you say it,” he spoke softly, his eyes glittering in anticipation. “But please, please, don’t say it unless you absolutely one-hundred percent mean it. I can’t go through this again. I can’t lose you again.” he begged.
You dimpled at him, taking your hands off the wall and reaching to tangle your fingers in the long, soft hair that sat at the nape of his neck. You gave him a grin and shook your head in awe.
“I love you Jisung.”
He seemed to be holding his breath as he waited patiently for the words to leave your mouth, because once they did, a sigh of relief left his lips and his head fell forward to rest on your shoulder, his arms hugging you closer to his body. He nuzzled his nose against the skin of your neck, inhaling slowly as he tried to relax his frantic heartbeat.
“Say it again,” he whispered, causing a giggle to leave your chest as you held him close to you.
“I love you Ji.” you told him again.
You could feel him smiling against the skin of your neck as he took another deep breath, inhaling the very essence of you.
“Again,” he begged, relishing in the way the words left your mouth so prettily, in the way it made goosebumps rise along his arms and legs, in the way it filled him with so much joy and happines he felt like he could outshine the sun.
You let out a laugh at his persistent request, but complied anyways, tears forming in your eyes and threatening to pool down your cheeks from the sheer happiness filling your veins.
“I’m in love with you, Sungie.”
He pulled away from your neck and lifted a hand from your hips to hold your face. Tears of joy and relief were falling down his puffy cheeks and his thumb wiped at yours as your own tears began to fall just from the sight of him.
“One more time?”
You giggled again, your head leaning into the warmth of his touch.
You’d tell him as many times as you needed to for him to believe it.
“Jisung Han, I fucking lo-”
You never got a chance to finish your sentence before his lips connected with yours as he spun the two of you around, caging you in the corner and encasing you in everything that was him.
The kiss was gentle and sweet, full of love and devotion and longing. Even though his lips were pressed against yours roughly, they felt feather-light, and you sighed into the feeling.
It finally felt like you had come home.
Jisung smiled against your lips once you finally opened your mouth to take a breath, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in. The second your tongues touched, it was like fireworks had gone off inside your body.
Every nerve ending in your tongue, in your mouth, in your entire being was on high alert as the two of you slowly and sensually explored each other. You could feel every inch of his tongue as it grazed across yours. The little sparks of electricity that poured from his hands that were holding you so gentle made you feel alive for the first time in months, years even.
When the two of you inevitable had to pull away, breathless and dazed from the intensity of your actions, Jisung leaned his forehead against yours and opened his eyes slightly to stare at you.
“That should’ve been our first kiss,” he whispered as his arms folded around you once more. He was squeezing you tightly, as if he was afraid you’d drift away the second he stopped touching you, and you loved the feeling of it.
“I love you so much, Princess.”
You glanced up at him briefly before you pulled him in closer to you once more, connecting your lips with his in another kiss.
The time, the kiss was hot and desperate, the neediness practically rolling off the two of you in waves. All the years of longing glances, sexual tension, titillating banter and subtle flirting had led up to this moment. The invisible chord that tethered you two together seemed to have finally been pulled past it’s limit and snapped, brining you two closer than ever before.
Jisung slightly bent his legs, his mouth never breaking contact with yours, and wrapped his arms around your thighs, picking you up and pushing you harder into the corner.
As if you had been doing it for years, your legs automatically wrapped around his tiny waist, his pelvis pushing against yours while his chest pinned you to the wall. His fingers were softly stroking the crevice just beneath where your butt ended and your legs began, causing your body to ignite with want.
You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged on the ends gently, pulling away from his lips, a small string of saliva connected yours to his. Jisungs mouth chased you as you went, causing you to softly laugh. You had to put a hand on his shoulder and nudge him to get him to relax and take a breath.
“Wanna get out of here?” You asked breathlessly, your eyes darting from his eyes, back down to his mouth and then back up again.
Like you were a drug he was addicted to, Jisung couldn’t keep his lips off your skin. He planted soft kisses all across your face as you spoke, from your cheek, to your chin, to your nose, and finally back to your lips once more.
“Yeah?” he asked back, taking a moment to stare at you nervously. He bit his lip as you nodded your head yes eagerly.
“Yeah.” you confirmed. Jisung took one of his hands from where he was supporting your ass and brushed a few baby hairs away from your face.
“Are you sure?” he asked, causing you to roll your eyes and let out a laugh in response.
“Just fucking take me home Jisung.” you begged. Jisung smiled at your request and helped you to your feet again. He held onto your elbow as you struggled to regain your composure from the heated kisses the two of you exchanged.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
And with that, with his hand on the small of your back, he took you home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#Like A Volcano#Like A Volcano Mini Series#Hannji's Mini Series#han jisung mini series#han jisung x reader#best friend skz#stray kids fic#stray kids#han jisung fic#skz han#bff skz#LAV by Hannji#itsseohannbin#itshannjisung
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Now just ahead there are cars parked on the two of you of the road, and my cyclist is now heading out into the gap between these kinds of. What to do now, I'm getting awfully close to him, better slow down a bit, maybe kind of more, now I decide to change apparatus. That Van coming towards us is not leaving much space. I would get going though, make some progress, can't carry on dawdling about like this one. I think there's enough space, require some gas though, got to successfully pass him before the Van reaches us. Oh no, I forgot to change down, that Van will be close now, he's braking! Bang! The Van has stopped, and i have stopped, and in a instant we hear the clatter from the cyclist falling from his bike, the cyclist when i have just knocked of all! He soon gets up though, shouldn't be that bad, can things?
Weight training workouts have a lot more than a cardio workout, committed and not playing you head to a certain point with your weight loss, you start to look for something active to try to to because the craves leisure activity. When I started my lifting program, Initially when i first bought a normal ab workout DVD and used it daily. It only took 8 minutes each and every day and really began to tighten up my abdominal area. The next thing I was able to was your website free-weight workout. This actually takes me about 45 minutes 2-3 times a week, but it is really shaping myself the way I want to buy it. One of the not-so-obvious visual benefits of a weight workout, is that it tends to fill system out on the right places, lifting more fatty areas, and a person look leaner.
Now, reflect on the type of people that would be all for the itineraries you end up being offer. Find your "niche". For example, spending each of your time marketing a backpacking escape to the Himalayas to families with young children isn't likely going give you essentially the most bang on your advertising and marketing income. Find the group of people who most closely fit your target niche. Join organizations and take flyers and business cards to local businesses that will provide you one of the most exposure to your niche. However, ALWAYS work on getting your clinic's name out there - Everywhere!
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You may have seen the little books called 'Entertainment Books'. The coupon books that are brimming with restaurant and fast food coupons, along by using a number of issues. Most people get the books for the coupons for restaurants, but they offer far more value than that!
Time only seems to exist up to this very moment - right 'now'. One second from now is in the future and future time does not really exist. Harmless time constantly being created in order for there to thought to be future? If so, Cao Bang Province how is it being done, or again, exactly what is the recipe for creating or cooking up a batch of instance? There can't be a genuine recipe; otherwise some nerdy geek could create a load of time at must not time, or within time, which already exists! That concept making a bubble of time within existing time should make your head ache!
Car Engines: Outdoor cats find warm engines just the appropriate place to seek out warmth the actual cold wintertime. Turning your car on along with a cat curled up upon your engine is certainly a big danger. To alert any cat which be near your car engine, bang on your hood several times before getting in and starting car or truck.
I have elsewhere examined this issue of expanding space and located it become IMHO utter claptrap. Diet plan the concept of expanding space treats space, as noted above, as if space were a thing. Space is not what anymore than society, atheism, Wednesday or velocity is often a thing; or beauty. Anything maybe beautiful, but beauty is not a thing.
Just the car with the blowout would hit a gate it did a 180 degree turn and go back toward the freeway and only before entering the lanes of traffic it made a 90 degree turn to the right and came to stop symptomatic shoulder within the road.
The associated with having two credit cards on identical account throughout your home country can be regarded as a problem in the foreign land so another travel safely tip is by using two completely separate accounts; this any back-up should one be lost or stolen. For a time now, thieves have been perfecting an individual snatching handbags and cameras on straps over the shoulder; but by placing the strap over the top and laying it under the chest, very much harder to do without cutting the ring. Try to be aware of where you're when you stroll around and don't make any target for your snatch thieves on the rear of bikes. You might also read with respect to different scams that it might fallen for and the simple truth is people keep falling for them because the scammers are professionals and tend to be good advertising.
Bring a camera along with you. Before leaving with the rented car, you should take range pictures of the car you have rented evade getting dinged for dings that aren't yours. Take pictures and ensure that option provides records dates. The same should be done when returning vehicle and also, you must carry out sure to inform the employees you managed it. This can rid you of being blamed on any scrapes or scratches the car obtained that isn't your find fault with.
These four places, are usually a short drive away from the city, just some with the reasons require only a few your own vehicle throughout Munich. Enjoy your voyage!
But relax, there's create blogs to sell for the aspirin. There has not been one nanosecond of time created by all the humans the person who were and thus (and are in all probability to be), nor by any of humanity's machines or inventions. No theoretical physicist has ever claimed for example that the massive Hadron Collider could create time, despite the fact that it's created to come as near as easy to creating the sort of energies though present at the big Bang seminar. Tis a pity actually because so many of us feel days you can begin as if there's inadequate time involving day (week, month, or year) to accomplish everything. Tin Top Cao Bằng AZ 247 Top Cao Bang AZ 247 So wouldn't it be possible nice purchasing could develop a bit more time by the sly and get a 25 hour day or an eight day week. Sadly, that's to get realized only in your dreams (or science fiction books and films).
Remope all the trash involving you kitchen, bathrooms or where ever you have trash cans then bring them to the curb, nothing worse that that garbage smell people return home.
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Great Guide On How To Fix Your House's InteriorIf you have a love of all things interior design, then you have come to the right place. Whether you are new to the world of design, have dabbled a little here and there or are a true design aficionado, you can find great advice and tips to help you.<br/><br/>Make sure that you have a budget when you are planning to change the interior design of your home. It is easy to get carried away by the gorgeous draperies and decorative items that you see in home magazines. You would not want to go into big debt just to make your house look better.<br/><br/>If you're working with a small living space, seek out furniture that's space conscious. For example, if you don't have the space for a guest room, buy a sofa or futon that can become a bed. Look for a kitchen table that can fold up when you need extra living space. You never want your home to feel crowded. Space conscious furniture can help a small home feel like a big one.<br/><br/>A great interior design tip is to start going hunting for antiques. You don't have to pay a fortune to get some interesting antiques. You can always go to local stores and try to barter with them. Who knows, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/nauradikaboutique">designer wall lamp</a> might end up with something that will spark many conversations.<br/><br/>Incorporate art into rooms in your house, whether they are paintings, pictures or posters. This can go along with the theme of the house that you choose and will help to improve the overall appearance. If you are a young homeowner, you can frame classical artwork to add to the elegance of your home.<br/><br/>When designing a room. pick a style that suits you. While you may want a room that your guests would like, remember the one that lives there is you. If ornate pillows are your style or you want to recreate your favorite hotel design, then go for it. If you outgrow it, don't worry. You can change it up again at any time.<br/><br/>When hanging pictures, try to group like subjects and frames together. The collection should be the focal point of the room and arranged within the bounds of an imaginary larger frame; incorporating each piece inside with the intent of complementing the other and all of them working in artistic harmony.<br/><br/>Don't forget to consider lighting when you're designing a room. You don't want things to be too dark and hard to see or else you risk eye strain. You can put in nice lights that will compliment your room, or you can use natural light. Mirrors are great at reflecting light from windows, so strategic placement of a mirror can help lighten a room with natural sunlight.<br/><br/>When it comes to lighting and interior design, it is always a good idea to use layers of lighting. A simple overhead light, while it may provide lighting for the entire room, does little for the ambiance so consider adding some accent lights as well. Accent lights can bring focus to specific parts of the room.<br/><br/>Be sure that you are hanging your artwork at the correct height. One good way to make sure you avoid that is to keep the art at least 8 to 10 inches higher than the back of your sofa.<br/><br/>A fabulous interior design tip is to try to bring the outdoors inside the home. If you have a patio that can be opened up, remove the obstructions that keep the outdoor and indoor areas separate. You can also add an awning in the back yard that will allow you to utilize your outdoor space as part of the home.<br/><br/>Before hanging sconces, consider the distance they are from the initial focal point. You do not want to place them to close to a mirror or window. Consider the size of the mirror when making this happen.<br/><br/>If you want to create those spaces in your home that truly wow, you need the right information. With a bit of know-how, some elbow grease and a touch of creativity, you can turn your visions into reality. Use the advice and tips you have learned here to help you get started.
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FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 27 - Sole
Another day of struggle writing done.
Shadowbringers spoilers aplenty.
As Samara lurked around the upper walkways of the Crystarium, she occasionally glanced down at the people below. There was an excited buzz in the air; word had spread of the night sky returning to yet another area of Norvrandt. It had been a while since she had seen The Wandering Stairs so busy. Drinks flowed freely, and she would not be surprised if the partying continued all through the night. She would spot her fellow Scions every so often, darting through the crowds to either get their own drinks and join in with the revelry or moving onto somewhere else.
She spotted Ryne off to the side with Thancred. While it was hard to make out all too much from the distance from what she could tell from their body language, both of them were at peace and, for once, looked comfortable in each other's company. She did not miss, however, the occasional glance from one or both of them in her direction.
A part of her wanted to join them, but it was safer for her to keep a distance. She did not want to worry them further, especially now that hiding the changes the Light was causing was becoming more complicated. She knew Ryne would offer to share the burden of being the host to the Lightwardens aether. She would not let that happen.
No, this was how it had to be. She had the sole responsibility of keeping the Light at bay. She would not condemn the young woman who had only just carved out a name and place for herself to this fate. Nor would she condemn the man so dear to her to lose another one he loved. If her life was the price that needed to be paid to save this world from destruction, then so be it, but that did not mean they needed to see every moment of her decline.
The physical changes were becoming harder to disguise. Her hair was becoming more brittle and paler as the days went on. At first, it was just a few stray hairs tinged a horrid pale bright yellow; now, most of her hair was tinted white at the root. She could easily cover it up with various dyes, but the changes to her eyes and scales were harder to conceal. She doubted the others had not noticed the changes in her attire, with every shred of scale and skin hidden beneath cloth, leather and metal. Her eyes she could do little about.
Still, the external changes paled in comparison to the ones happening inside. She was partly keeping herself separate from everyone else because she could feel herself coming undone at the seams. Her emotions were harder to keep in check, and her already tempestuous anger was always a hair's breadth away from being unleashed on anyone for even the most minor of things. Then there was the paranoia. The First had changed her friends; how could it not? Regardless, she still trusted them. Or did. Now, there were moments when she questioned their motives and wondered if they were friend or foe. On more than one occasion, she had found herself reaching for a weapon, ready and willing to fight any or all of them. It was a feral state of mind she had not felt in years, and to say it unnerved her was an understatement.
Then there was the hunger. She would need to go out hunting again soon. It was easier to hide the increase in her appetite that way, though she imagined sooner or later someone would come across the string of animal corpses felled across Lakeland or catch her mid-hunt or feast. That is assuming none were aware already. She knew the Exarch had a means of keeping an eye on her. Not to mention, a certain ghost was never too far away.
"Yet again, I find you alone. Want some company?" as if one cue said ghost made his appearance. Ardbert made his way over to Samara, taking his place by her side at the railing.
"Are you saying that more for my sake or yours?" Samara did not take her eyes off the crowds below as she spoke.
"Does it matter? How are you feeling? You're looking a little pale."
Samara sighed, leaning heavily against the railing and staring vaguely toward Thancred and Ryne. "Before, when I thought of the Light, I thought of the sun, a force that nourishes life but could also snuff it out in an instant of fire and flame. Compassion and fury in equal measure. I was wrong. It is cold and unyielding. I feel like I am in the middle of a snowstorm, the cold robbing me of my senses with each passing moment until nothing is left but the still of winter."
"Not good then. I assume you know what is happening?"
"That I am becoming a Sin eater, or that I am dying?" Samara idly picked at a patch of off-colour scales. She tried to not dwell on it, even if they were starting to turn a discomforting shade of gold.
The question went unanswered, with Ardbert quickly changing the topic. "What will you do?"
"Keep fighting for as long as I can. Pray whatever scheme the Exarch has in mind works, and if not…take matters into my own hands."
"What the hells does that mean?"
"If I fall to the Light, both this world and the Source are doomed to calamity. However, the calamity the Ascians wish to bring about can only happen if I, or something harbouring this damn Light, exists."
"So you would return to the Source before you turn. You realise that could cause what is happening here to repeat there. The aether would pass onto another, and then two worlds would be full of Sin eaters."
"Unless the aether was destroyed or absorbed in a single moment." her gaze turned up to the night sky. She knew it was not Nhamma up in the inky black sky, but it was a comfort all the same.
"On the Source, the land I hail from is known as the Azim Steppe. There is a sacred place up in the mountains known as the House of the Crooked Coin. Inside, you can find a fragment of the Dusk Mother, Nhamma, one of my people's deities. People from Tribes all over the steppe travel there when…when everything becomes too much. We throw ourselves at Mother Nhamma's mercy. Literally. Everything a person is, was, or could ever be is destroyed."
"That's your plan? Suicide?"
"What other choice is there? I either live and am freed of this burden or become the doom of this world and everyone on it. I refuse to let the latter happen. Not if I have a way of stopping it."
"Except you don't! You have no way of knowing if your plan will work."
"It is better than the alternative. What sounds better? Guaranteed destruction or the faint hope of averting it? I'm dead either way."
"I just don't want to take everyone down with me…"
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Hemingway Hunt
Stop 1: Place de la Contrascarpe
Upon arriving at the Contrascarpe, I can understand the words that Hemingway used to describe the square. Although, I think that "cesspool" is too harsh a word to describe the activities going on tonight. It seemed like the rightful amalgamation of the Rue Mouffetard, as people swarmed about, sat, ate, and drunk around a center that was anything but the top tier of Parisian life. Yet, it provided an adequate space for the task at hand, an aspect that I think drew Hemingway to the area.
If I were transported, Midnights in Paris style, I think I would see Hemingway at the spot of the current Café Delmas. Although he frequented the Café des Amateurs, the geographical clues led me to Delmas's place as a gateway to the place. It seemed like the perfect place for the write to place himself and watch over the rest of the people gathering within their own lives. The vibe of this café also felt different than the rest of the bustling square, as it gave off a peaceful allure juxtaposed with the surroundings.
Stop 2: Hemingway's Apartment
While it was no mansion on L'Île Saint-Louis, the exterior of Hemingway's former apartment did not appeared to be covered with squalor. However, recent advancements and a famous former tenant might have helped in that department over the past century. The one thing that these things can not really change, however, is the size. It still appeared small as he described it. For this reason, it makes sense why he would sojourn the city and find havens to work in. I can say that I have done the same thing, with the exception of the first day. I am always looking to explore and find some new part of the city. Here I can find adequate space for my mind to roam that my small dormitory can not provide.
Stop 3: Writing Studio
Next was a stop on the Rue Descartes where the old studio of Hemingway existed. Upon viewing the exterior, not much appeared that much different than his apartment other than the more secluded nature of the building within the protection of the alley. I imagine that the top floor apartment of Hemingway was situated on the corner, allowing him to have a view unique and more than what was directly in front of him. He does not seem like he would enjoy the simple view.
Stop 4: The Quais of the Seine
After taking a steep walk down the Rue Cardinal Lemoine to the Seine, much in the way that Hemingway described in A Moveable Feast, we reached the heart of Paris. I perused the quais many times during my time in Paris and loved to look at the selection of books, postcards, maps, and tchotchkes that the sellers had to offer. Like Hemingway, I was able to find a couple of stands with large collections of English language literature, but I do not think that I can agree with his conversation with the seller who says the English books are cheaper. I found they were usually the same price and it depended more on the quality of the book rather than the language of publication. Although the tourist nature of the city that has rapidly expanded in the century that separates the two experiences is sure to have contributed to this change in price trends.
Stop 5: Shakespeare and Company
Although the store is in a different location, I can imagine how an environment like this might entice Hemingway. (However, I feel this would require the absence of the tourist crowd.) The antiquated atmosphere surrounded by literature is a bibliophile's dream, and it even makes me think of my mom, an English teacher who loves the works of the great American.
Sitting at the balcony, I can understand the ways in which Hemingway wrote, looking out onto the bustling Parisian streets, felling the air and hearing the noise from a café table or a window. The room that we are in contains such a vast amount of knowledge that radiates the Paris of times past. For a brief moment, the modern world ceases and I feel as if I am enjoying Paris for what it is and becoming devoid of my tourist nature.
Stop 6: Gertrude Stein, Musée du Luxembourg, and Hunger Walk
It must have been quite nice to have a friend whose house acted a cutting-edge museum of its time. The way Hemingway describes her relationship with Ms. Stein always struck me as odd, as he consistently tried to justify his mooching and provide forty year old testimony that she was okay with his continued visits, even if she was gone. Whether or not she was okay with it, his judgement of her lifestyle, in conjunction with his views of homosexuality that he describes in the book, makes it hard to believe how they could be such good friends, at least before Hemingway had to cut the line at the incident.
Close by was an actual museum that Hemingway frequented as he took in the Impressionist art of the generation before him. From the way that Hemingway describes the works in the Luxembourg, they were the masterpieces that have since been transferred to other, more grand museums in Paris, yet the small building still functions as an art museum, where this summer, they had an exposition from the Impressionist time period on the brother of Claude Monet.
Hemingway described the museum as a place that he loved to frequent hungry, as it made the paintings more meaningful that way. He also describes the daily basis on which he would not eat because he enjoyed hunger and it would not always come to him to need, causing his wife to force meals at point. I think this is an egoists' attempt to hide the true poverty that he was living in at this point, but nevertheless, it is possible to retrace the steps of the neighboorhood that he frequented and often walked around hungry. Among these places are the Rue de Vaugirard, the Rue Férou, and the Place Saint Sulpice. At the latter, you can be surrounded by food and an amazing square full of nature and the wonders of man kind.
Stop 7: Brasserie Lipp
Hemingway, despite his dramatics about hunger, recalls much about the restaurants and cafés that he frequented, providing a map to the best spots to eat and drink if you were a struggling writer in the 20s. Some of these places are still in existence today and you can enjoy the same meals that Ernest did. One of these is the Brasserie Lipp, where he described stopping after he realised that his time in hunger should find a brief respite. At Lipp's, Hemingway describes eating potato salad, sausage, and bread while drinking beer and reminiscing on his past endeavors in writing, including when he had first left journalism to pursue writing and the time his stories were stolen at a train station. While not direct, there is a connection from his hunger to the failures of his career: the change in work, the stolen stories, the failure to be published consistently. He is sitting at that spot with those feelings because of those failures and it has made his life into what it was at that time.
Stops 8&9: Café de Flore and Les Deux Magots
Among the other places of food along Saint-Germain that Hemingway felt necessary to describe in his memoire were the Café de Flore and Les Deux Magots. These buildings that oppose each other are still here and offer a great view of urban life within the 6eme arrondissement. I can understand why these would be among the rounds of his writing spots because one can easily blend in and become one with the surrounding environment and lose oneself within thought.
Stop 10: Michaud's
While the restaurant that Hemingway mentions as being the haven of James Joyce and his family is described by Hemingway as being a luxury to him, it is now no longer in existence. Yet, he mentions two different meals that he has at the restaurant, displaying its importance. The first time is when he and his wife Hadley decide to splurge and have a grand meal during their times of hunger. He then tells his audience of another meal at the restaurant that he has with F Scott Fitzgerald when Hemingway does quite the job at telling an embarrassing story of his (at the time of writing) deceased friend and colleague, not so subtlety hinting at his opinions on the merit of Fitzgerald as a writer in comparison to him through a much more lewd euphemism.
Stop 11: Hotel d'Angleterre
The English Hotel looks much nicer and classier than a place that would welcome a fresh Hemingway into the city of lights. However, this was the place where the young family made their first roots in Paris. We could not go inside and see the garden courtyard, as it was limited to patrons only, but the area seemed quite nice and a great way to get acclimated to the city.
Stop 12: Natalie Barney
Our last stop among the traces of Ernest Hemingway in Paris led us to another salon of twentieth century artists, this time the apartment of Natalie Barney. It is quite odd that all of these famous people ended up in the same circle, even before they really had any notoriety in some cases. Whether those in the know had really good judges of success or it was a serendipitous occasion by the universe, the amount of namedropping that an unknown Hemingway would have been able to make is remarkable.
Conclusion:
In reflecting on A Moveable Feast, I think the title is very apt for the way that Hemingway looks back on his time in Paris, and not just because he talks about food a lot. The nature of Paris is one that does not require stagnation. It is always possible to pick up your life and find a new area, and still be full and content, no matter the struggles that might be present. The feast is what the city brings to you and the life that it infects you with. You can find yourself anywhere in the city, or the world for that matter, and still be nourished by the culture and magic of Paris. Hemingway was hardly ever in the same place twice when describing the different stories of the book, yet he was always able to carry with him the spirit and freeness that Paris allowed him to live with.
It was very hard at times to take Hemingway seriously, as it felt like an old man rambling on into nonsense as he tried to reflect on life. At the same time, though, it felt very much like he had an agenda and was set on leaving a legacy about his early years that was worthy of someone of his fame. For these reasons, I would find myself gawking at the selective randomness of the stories that he told. However, I did enjoy the elongated sections on Fitzgerald especially, as the interaction between two of America's greats, as told by one of them was never what I expected. It almost felt like a sitcom when Hemingway described their dinner at Michaud's and subsequent trip to the Louvre, or their trip to Lyon that was the exact opposite of smooth.
I think my favorite line would have to come at the very end when Hemingway reflects on his entire time in Paris: "...it was always Paris, and you changed as it changed." I think that the power that I have felt from the city over the past three weeks is summed up perfectly in this quote. There is so much history to this city that has shifted for thousands of years, but the constant only comes in the name and place. There is always something new to be had in Paris and something old that will be a relic of the past. Being able to experience this once has impacted my life in ways that I am not even sure I will fully comprehend by the next time I return; however, I know that I will return home as a different, and hopefully, better man because of my time here.
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C.R.O.W (Chapter 7)
The bar he entered was a minimalist sanctuary, with white walls and piercing blue lighting that exuded modern elegance. The lovely tunes of a piano player permeated the air, bringing a sense of refinement to the peaceful area.
One of the reasons he arrived so early that night was because of this. Within an hour, the crowds would get too noisy, and the live artist would be replaced by pre-recorded music from the era.
Grendel spent most of his time with other people. He despised being alone. But he needed to get his thoughts straight. A location like this was ideal. You might be surrounded by people and still be able to have the feeling of being alone. He closed his eyes and focused on the soothing tune of the piano.
Milo would have adored it. The simple notion ran through his thoughts, leaving daggers in his gut. Reminding him of why he was feeling so out of his element in the first place.
And it wasn't only moving to America or waking up after 150 years of slumber. Though, this didn't help. When he last visited America, it was still being explored by pilgrims. And he found it too filthy for his liking.
But it was Milo's disappearance that made him sick every time he thought about it. Yes, there were times when they were separated for several years. But he always knew there paths would cross and any separation was temporary. But this time it was different. With Ma'at back, and her threats. He couldn't get his mind off of Milo's well being for any amount of time.
Worse, he was confident that he could find Milo quickly with what Ma'at told him. But no matter how fast he could run. No matter how strong he was. If she got the slightest hint Grendel was trying to do anything about it. She could end Milo within seconds. Leaving him with all the information he needed, but unable to do anything about it.
Grendel sat at the bar by himself, drinking a glass of blood-red wine. It wouldn't have any effect on him, but it was important to look the part when on the hunt. His race could only experience the effects of alcohol if it was mingled with blood. As a result, he spent most of the time watching the liquid swirl around in his glass.
The piano player began to play a new melody, and Grendel felt a sudden chill run down his spine. The music was different, darker, and more haunting than anything he had heard before. The once-crisp blue lights now seemed muted, and the white walls of the bar appeared dimmed as if shrouded in shadows. As if he had slipped into a different reality.
The light pink aura that had surrounded the player earlier had transformed into a pitch-black one. No one but him seemed to notice the change. As if everything on the human end was the same and he wasn't sharing the same space with them anymore.
As the song continued, Grendel's heart skipped a beat as he realized that the singer was none other than Ma'at. Adding possession to the things she had learned throughout the years. Beyond merely disturbing his nightmares, this was the closest they'd been to meeting face to face in a long time.
Grendel closed his eyes, attempting to drown out the haunting tune and the blatant threat she was conveying. The music had engulfed him, it's dark and strange sounds pouring into his very being. As Ma'at's eerie and unearthly voice rang through the tavern, he could feel the darkness creeping in and wrapping him in its chilly grasp.
Ma'at's voice rose through the bar, her words slashing like a razor through the air. Her song, full of rage and despair, the devil within. Grendel felt a chill go down his spine as he listened, knowing he had to escape, but his feet seemed heavy, fixed to the spot. Ma'at's presence was oppressive, threatening to drag him into the darkness she had been stuck in for so long.
As the song ended, Grendel opened his eyes, gasping for breath. The crisp clean colours of the whites and blues flooded the room. But like a chill in one's bones, she lingered within him. With a heavy heart, he stood up, knowing that he would never be able to outrun his past. As he glanced back, he saw that the piano player's aura had returned to its normal light pink hue.
Looking around the room, Grendel realized that he needed something stronger than the typical wine or drinks they served there. He was on the hunt for more than just food now; he needed a drink that could drown out the haunting echoes of Ma'at's song, something to numb the memories that had resurfaced.
He gingerly collided with the next person he noticed. With his most affable expression, he quickly apologized as he led the man to the bar, offering to buy him a drink to make up for his discretion. Not taking no for an answer as he plastered the most charming smile he can muster on his face.
After a brief encounter behind the bar, Grendel stumbled back inside. The place was now packed, but he managed to make his way back to his spot at the bar. As he approached, he noticed a woman with electric violet hair sitting in his seat. He cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me, that's my seat."
She whipped around, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "I don't see your name on it," she retorted, her tone sharp and challenging.
With a mischievous grin, he tapped the back of the chair. She glanced at the metal tab on the back of the chair, then back at him. "Your name is Roxy inc.?" she asked incredulously.
Taken aback by her, he started to ramble. "No, but it could be," shooting a friendly smile. "You don't know. I could own the company that makes bar stools. You don't know," he said with a smile.
His gaze was drawn to the table in front of her, where a bright blue drink rested. "What are you drinking?"
"Thank you, But I can buy my own drinks," the girl answered, avoiding eye contact with him. Dipping the tip of her long fingernail in the drink before taking a sip. "Don't just hover; there's a seat right there for you." She motioned with her hand to the vacant space behind him.
He let himself fall back into the chair. Scrunching his face in what he hoped was something resembling offense. "What if I asked because I wanted to order one myself?"
"A manly man wanting a fruity drink like this?" She inquired, matter-of-factually.
Grendel looked at her for a time. "Are you flirting with me, or is that meant to be an insult?" he questioned. "Since when do drinks have sexual orientations?" Another legitimate concern. He had a good idea of how things worked now. But that didn't change the fact that he had been sleeping for 150 years and had no idea what the social norms were these days.
"I'm not in the mood. I've had a rough day and all I want to do now is get drunk," she snapped, but this time she was a little less aggressive. "Why can't people just go away. Like if you break up with someone and you still have to deal with them is bull shit."
"I'm really not hitting on you. I just," he began to indicate to the door, but realized it was probably best if he didn't go into too much detail. "Let's just say I won't be UP for anything for at least 20 minutes."
She glanced over to him, eyeing him up and down. "Very classy. Hope they were hot."
"He was," he started to say, trying to recall what he even looked liked. But nothing. Was he blond, or was he a redhead. No, it was black hair, maybe.
This was unusual for him, in that he would normally spend the night with the individual. Making sure there last night in the earthly realm was something to remember. He had no idea what the afterlife was like. However, he believed that this was obviously a win-win situation for everyone involved. He received whatever human vitality he needed to live. And they had a lovely night, knowing they were loved and accepted by someone. Even if it was for only a few hours.
For a moment he felt bad he didn't do the same for that man. Fuck, he didn't even know anything about him, everything happened so fast. "I like talking to people when I'm having a bad day," he remarked, more to himself than to her, as he turned to face the bar. He'd wait till his brain cleared a little before moving on. Until that point, this was as fine as any other place to sit. Even if it meant spending it in silence, something he despised.
The woman didn't glance at him, but she started talking. "How bad has your day been?"
Grendel glanced at the piano, which was now lacking any melody, the per-recorded music booming from the speakers taking its place. "My ex possessed the pianist and threatened me through song early tonight," he added casually, not seeing the need in lying. People thought he was talking out of his ass half the time. So often that he just spoke whatever was on his mind.
"Damn, it's hard to compete with that," she said. It was unclear whether she believed him or not, but she shifted in her seat. "Electric Lemonade." She half smiled at Grendel as he gave her a questionable look. "You asked what the name of the drink is, it's an Electric Lemonade." She then shot a hand out. "I'm Kathrine, by the way."
Grendel turned, the music distorting her words so that he couldn't make out what she was saying. "Kit-Kat?"As they talked, two men approached the woman and started hitting on her. Grendel rolled his eyes and turned back to the bar, content to let her handle it on her own.
"Hay gorgeous," the first one said, his shirt half unbuttoned, as he placed himself between Grendel and Kathrine. "Is this loser bothering you?"
She rolled her eyes, "No, but you are." She took a sip of her drink.
"Ow, come on, don't be that way." The one on her right started to say. "We got a table, come over and party with us."
"I said I'm not interested," she snapped.
"No, you didn't," the first guy responded, putting his arm around her chair, swiveling it so she was facing him. "I don't recall you ever saying you didn't want to bother with us."
The second man put something into Kathrine's drink while the first man was speaking to her. Grendel stood up, unaware of what he was doing. Grabbing the first guy's wrist and snapping it. Moving so quickly that no one else could tell what was going on. He pushed the guy aside and grabbed for the woman's drink, which he downed before walking away. He was halfway across the room when he heard the pathetic sobs of the man. Only then noticing the 90 degree angle that formed at the end of his hand.
Grendel's mind was clouded, unable to recall the woman's name he had just spoken with. He settled on calling her Kit-Kat and wondered how long he had been drifting away. Should he return to the bar, or would it be safer to remain concealed until the two guys had left? Humans tended to get upset when random pieces of their body were broken.
With his eyes closed, he stood in a corner, allowing the room to wash over him. He sensed everyone's presence without using his eyes and felt the vibrant auras of the dancing people fill his mind's eye with a beautiful cascade of colors.
Suddenly, a jarring sensation passed him, and before he could react, he was pulled into a passionate kiss with a woman who had grabbed his arms. He tried to resist at first, but her grip tightened, pulling him closer until they were entwined against the wall. Surrendering to her warmth, he relished in the pleasure of their bodies intertwined. When the kiss ended, he opened his eyes and saw her striking purple hair.
"Kit-Kat?" Grendel asked, wondering if this was the same woman he had just left. She seemed preoccupied, scanning the room and not acknowledging his question.
Grendel followed her gaze, trying to see what she was looking for. "Sorry," she finally said, breaking the tension. "I saw my ex and...I may have punched him."
As he stood close to her, Grendel couldn't help but notice the delicate fragrance of flowers and incense emanating from her. The scent was subtle, yet unmistakable. Having known many witches throughout the years, Grendel knew that this was going to be a very interesting and enjoyable night. With a smile, he suggested, "Why don't we find a place where he can't follow us?"
Although Grendel didn't have access to a private room at the moment, he knew he could get one by asking very nicely and, if necessary, using a little "convincing." With his charm and persuasion skills, he was confident that he could secure a private space for them in no time.
#warm blooded vampires series#vampires#gaz042#wattpad#gothic stories#crow#chapter 7#vampire book#writing
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What Goes Into Creating An Effective Mobile Marketing Campaign
The messages that you send by means of versatile can be capable. Time spent on mobile devices has surpassed desktop and 80% of app users engage with their apps 15 times a day. The Challenge with so much contending content is to get consideration fabricate trust.
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How about we jump into this more.
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With portable crusades, dependably remember that you are assembling these for genuine individuals. The Methodology must be at the base of these strategies. You should comprehend your objective and gathering of people above all else, and make a credible, authentic, and significant battle around them.
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Great Guide On How To Fix Your House's Interior
If you have a love of all things interior design, then you have come to the right place. Whether you are new to the world of design, have dabbled a little here and there or are a true design aficionado, you can find great advice and tips to help you.
Make sure that you have a budget when you are planning to change the interior design of your home. It is easy to get carried away by the gorgeous draperies and decorative items that you see in home magazines. You would not want to go into big debt just to make your house look better.
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Be sure that you are hanging your artwork at the correct height. One good way to make sure you avoid that is to keep the art at least 8 to 10 inches higher than the back of your sofa.
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Before hanging sconces, consider the distance they are from the initial focal point. You do not want to place them to close to a mirror or window. Consider the size of the mirror when making this happen.
If you want to create those spaces in your home that truly wow, you need the right information. With a bit of know-how, some elbow grease and a touch of creativity, you can turn your visions into reality. Use the advice and tips you have learned here to help you get started.
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