#beautiful friendships have been sprung for less

[thewulf]

Starlit Promises || Legolas

Summary: Request - Heyy I really like how you write Legolas and also your writing in general so I thought I'd request a Legolas x reader where in reader saves him from an orc attack and got hurt in the process. Hehe that's all have a good day!

A/N: Ahhh I really like this one. Ty Anon for the amazing request as always.

Pairing: Legolas x Elf Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

TW: Orcs, attack, shot with an arrow, poison, angst, sad Legolas

Growing up in the lush, enigmatic depths of Mirkwood had shaped you into the warrior you are today. Side by side with Legolas you had spent countless hours under the tutelage of the same masters learning the arts of combat and stealth. Though your paths within the kingdom's defense forces eventually diverged with Legolas rising to accompany his father on diplomatic missions and you embedding deeper into the scout units you never lost the connection forged in those formative years.

Your friendship with Legolas was based on a foundation of deep respect and a shared love for the vast, mysterious woodland that was your home. Over the years, King Thranduil himself had come to hold you in high regard as he appreciated how you continually challenged and supported his son. Making sure to keep him grounded and focused.

After many seasons apart, duty finally brought you back together. It was a reunion marked by warm smiles and a quick rekindling of your lifelong friendship. Eager to make the most of this reunion you both decided to embark on a patrol through some of the darker much less traveled parts of Mirkwood. These regions were where the trees grew dense, and the shadows lingered. They were known for being unpredictable, yet they offered a serene beauty that was unmatched elsewhere in the kingdom.

As you walked alongside Legolas, your steps silent and your senses alert, you found comfort in the familiar presence of your friend. The air was filled with the sounds of distant waterfalls and the occasional call of a wood pigeon. Conversation flowed easily between you. It was filled with stories of past exploits and shared adventures. It was as if no time had passed at all, and you were just two young elves exploring the woods as you had all those hundreds of years ago.

Yet, the peace of the forest was deceptive and as seasoned warriors both of you remained vigilant. It was a routine patrol on the surface but in Mirkwood with the darkness ever growing one could never be too careful. Little did you know the shadows held more than just the whispers of ancient trees that day.

In the shadow-drenched depths of Mirkwood where the dense canopy stifled even the slightest beam of sunlight you and Legolas moved with the silent grace of seasoned warriors. The forest's deceptive calm should have been your first warning, but you were so engrossed in his presence you didn’t think too much of it. It was a heavy stillness that shrouded the advance of danger. It was in this eerie silence that the ambush was sprung as a large band of orcs burst from their hidden positions among the twisted undergrowth.

In the midst of the intense and chaotic battle with the clash of metal resounding through the ancient trees of Mirkwood a sudden, jarring sound made your heart skip a beat. It was the distinct twang of a bowstring. A sound you’d recognize anywhere amidst the close-quarters combat that it sent a ripple of alarm through you.

You and Legolas were back-to-back and fighting in seamless coordination Legolas's breath hitched audibly, a rare sign of his alarm. His voice was urgent and tinged with a touch of panic as it reached your ears over the din of battle.

"Y/N, the leader, he's aiming for—"

Before he could finish you saw the movement. A shadowy figure at a distance with a notched arrow gleaming with a sinister sheen that could only mean poison. Time seemed to slow as you realized the target was none other than Legolas himself.

With a surge of adrenaline, you acted on pure instinct. "Legolas, down!" you shouted pushing him towards the ground even as you leaped to intercept the flight path of the arrow.

Legolas who was forced down by your push hit the forest floor hard. He turned just in time to see your actions. "No, Y/N!" His voice was laced with horror and desperation as he realized what you were about to do.

The arrow struck and the sound of your grunt of pain was drowned out by Legolas's anguished yell. He scrambled to his feet eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury. "Why would you do this?" he bellowed. His voice cracking with a mix of horror and desperation. His eyes were wide with shock and nearing tears. They searched yours for an answer he could not find in the chaos of his own emotions.

As you staggered from the impact the world began to blur at the edges as the poison was already coursing through your veins. With what strength you had left you managed to whisper, trying to reassure him despite the growing darkness clouding your vision. "Had to... save you. Watch out... he has more..."

Legolas was now beside himself with worry and rage. He turned his attention back to the orc leader with a fierce glare. His usual calm demeanor was shattered by the sight of you injured because of him. He drew his own arrow with a swift, deadly precision that was uncharacteristic but fueled by his tumultuous emotions. "No one harms you and escapes unscathed," he murmured almost to himself as he prepared to return the favor with lethal intent.

What followed was a blur of motion and violence. Legolas moved like a tempest. His arrows finding their marks with lethal precision. Each strike was a blow against his own anguish, a defiance of the fate that had struck you down. The orcs fell one by one. They were no match for the wrath of a prince fighting for the life of a friend he so dearly loved.

As the last of the orcs crumpled to the forest floor, silenced forever, Legolas turned back to where you lay, your face pale and your breaths shallow. He knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he gently lifted you into his arms. The forest seemed to hold its breath. The usual whispers of the leaves stilled by the gravity of the moment.

Legolas's steps were swift and sure as he began the urgent journey back to the healers. Each step was a race against the relentless creep of the poison within you. As he moved with his arms secure around you he began to whisper. His voice a soft contrast to the earlier fury that had consumed him.

"Stay with me," he murmured. His words tinged with a desperation he had never known. "You must stay with me." His voice broke as the reality of the situation pressed upon him. The weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm his stoic facade.

The forest blurred past as Legolas with you cradled securely in his arms. He pushed through the undergrowth with an urgency born of sheer desperation. The poison from the orc’s arrow was relentless and with each labored breath you took his heart clenched tighter.

As he hurried his voice was a steady stream of encouragement meant to fortify both your spirits and his own resolve. “You’re so strong. You can fight this,” he urged quietly. His tone gentle yet firm. The dense foliage seemed to part before his determination. The shadows of Mirkwood bending to his will.

“You have to hold on. I need you to hold on,” he continued. His voice only for you. A personal warmth amidst the encroaching darkness of your pain. His words were a lifeline thrown in the hope that your spirit would grasp it and cling to life.

Within his mind a storm of thoughts raged. As he looked down at your face contorted with the effort to stay conscious he was struck by a revelation so profound it rooted itself deep within his soul. I love her, he realized with startling clarity. The thought was both a balm and a torment emerging amidst the terror of possibly losing you. Why did it take the brink of losing her to see how vital she is to me? His heart ached with the weight of his newfound understanding. An understanding that came at such a cruel cost.

Meanwhile, you, despite the searing pain, felt the urgency in his voice and it gave you a focus. A point to anchor your fading strength. You tried to respond. To give him some sign that you heard him. That you were fighting not just for your own life, but for him, for the future you hadn't yet considered might be possible together. Your lips moved slightly as a whisper of sound that was more an exhale of pain than coherent words.

Legolas felt the faint stir of your attempt to speak and it spurred him on. His strides growing even more determined. “Just a little farther,” he promised you, and perhaps himself. “We’re almost there. Stay with me.”

His mind continued to race with thoughts of love and loss, but he kept these revelations locked within choosing instead to flood you with hopeful, encouraging words. Every step was a silent vow. Every heartbeat a silent plea to whatever fates watched over the elves of Mirkwood.

As the gates of the palace finally came into sighta surge of tentative relief washed over him. The guards recognized the dire nature of your condition and rushed to meet him calling for the healers swiftly. Legolas’s arms relinquished you with a reluctance that was palpable. His hands lingering until the last possible moment as he handed you over to their care.

Watching the guards swiftly carry you away Legolas could only stand there for a moment, alone and suddenly bereft. The depth of his emotions swirling chaotically within. Hold on, please hold on, he thought. His heart echoing each word of encouragement he had given you. Now a silent mantra for the both of you.

In the somber halls of the Mirkwood palace, Thranduil arrived, drawn by the urgent whispers of his guards about an incident involving his son and one of his most valued elves. As he entered his eyes found Legolas who stood alone. His posture betraying a mix of shock and despair rarely seen on the prince.

Approaching quietly Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas’s shoulder, his presence immediately steadying. "Legolas, tell me what has happened," he urged. His voice firm yet lined with concern.

Legolas's response was choked. A surge of emotions breaking through his usually composed demeanor. Turning to face his father, tears welled in his eye. It was a terribly rare sight that shook Thranduil to his core. "She... she saved me," Legolas stammered. The words laced with pain and guilt. "An orc aimed a poisoned arrow at me, and she stepped in front. She took the hit herself. It should have been me, Father."

The king's eyes widened in horror as he processed the gravity of the situation. His mind racing with the implications of your selfless act. "Legolas," Thranduil said softly as he guided his son to sit beside him on a nearby bench, an effort to offer comfort amidst the cold stone surroundings. "You must not blame yourself for her bravery. She acted out of loyalty and courage. These are qualities that are to be honored, not lamented."

Legolas wiped at his eyes, struggling to compose himself. "But I love her, Father. And now, I might lose her because I could not protect her," he confessed. The words tumbling out amidst sobs. The admission of his feelings which were spoken aloud for the first time seemed to both relieve and burden him further.

Thranduil was taken aback by the depth of his son’s emotions. He reached out, his own composure tinged with empathy. "My son, love is both a strength and a vulnerability. You must hold onto the hope that she will recover. And should she wake, it is your duty—and your right—to tell her of your feelings."

The king stood, resolute. "I will speak with the healers to ensure that everything possible is being done," he promised. Returning his attention to Legolas, he added, "Stay strong, Legolas. She fought to save you. Now you must be strong for her."

Thranduil placed a reassuring hand on Legolas's shoulder. His gaze intense and commanding. "There is something you can do, Legolas. Go to her," he instructed firmly. "The healers say that even in unconsciousness the presence of someone familiar may be felt. Your presence could provide the strength she needs to fight this poison."

Legolas looked at his father. The determination in Thranduil's voice sparking a flicker of hope within him. "Talk to her, hold her hand, let her feel your presence. Keep her grounded to this world. Your voice, your touch… it may reach her when our medicine cannot."

Rising from the bench with renewed purpose Legolas nodded solemnly. "I will not leave her side," he vowed. The resolve in his voice masking the tremor of his underlying fear.

Thranduil watched as his son strode towards the healers quarters. His posture that of a prince, yet driven by the raw, powerful emotions of an elf in love. "She saved you for a reason, Legolas. Now, give her a reason to return," Thranduil murmured to himself as he watched Legolas disappear behind the delicate curtains that shrouded the healing chambers.

Inside, Legolas approached your side with his heart pounding as he took in your serene yet pained expression. Gingerly, he took your hand in his. The coolness of your skin against his warm palm stirring a mix of emotions within him. Sitting beside you he began to speak his voice soft but clear threading through the quiet hum of the healing ward.

"I'm here just like you've always been there for me. Remember the storms we weathered together? The quiet moments we shared under the stars of our beautiful Mirkwood? Hold onto those memories now as I hold onto your hand. You must come back to us, to me," Legolas whispered. His words a tender plea laced with strength and love.

As he continued to speak he recounted tales of their past adventures and shared dreams. Legolas's presence became a silent, steadfast hope, anchoring you in the fight against the darkness that threatened to claim you.

"Remember the time we chased the fireflies at dusk?" Legolas continued. His voice a soft murmur meant only for you. "We wandered so far that night we almost missed the evening banquet. Your laughter echoed through the woods, brighter even than the lights we chased. I think that was the moment I realized how dear you were to me though I never had the courage to say it. I wish I said it."

He paused. His thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, each memory a pull trying to guide you back. "And then there was the storm. The one that caught us off guard near the northern border. We took shelter under that old oak. The one that's stood for a thousand years. You were so calm, so brave, even as the thunder roared around us. It was more than bravery. It was a peace within you that even the storm couldn't disturb. I truly fell in love with you then."

His voice grew softer, each word laden with emotion. "I've always admired that about you—your strength, your serenity. It's been a constant source of comfort to me, more often than you know." A sigh escaped him, a mixture of admiration and deep-seated fear. "I need that strength now, more than ever. You have to fight through this. I... I can't envision a world without you in it mellon vaer nîn, meleth nîn." He whispered to you.

Legolas's gaze lingered on your face. His eyes tracing the familiar features as if trying to imprint them deeper into his memory. "There are so many things I still want to share with you. The sunrise over the Silverlode. Quiet mornings in the glades. So many adventures yet to be had. I need you to come back to me."

As he continued to speak recalling tales of their past his voice became your lifeline, tethered to the hope of your recovery. With each story he tried to weave you back to consciousness. To draw you away from the shadows that clung too closely.

Hours passed, a silent vigil marked only by the rhythm of his voice and the faint but steady beat of your heart. It was during one such tale as Legolas recounted a particularly daring escapade from their youth that he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand. It was slight, nearly imperceptible, but to Legolas, it was as profound as the sun breaking through a week of rain.

His heart leapt and his words faltered for a moment. "Are you there? Can you hear me?" he asked. His voice a blend of hope and urgency. When there was no further response he settled back with a small, hopeful smile touching his lips. "I'll keep talking… just keep listening. You're not alone." Legolas's resolve hardened, bolstered by the faint sign of your fighting spirit. He continued to talk. Each word a pledge of his presence and protection. His stories a bridge carrying you back from the brink.

The healing ward was bathed in the soft, ethereal light of dawn filtering through the high windows. Legolas sat steadfast by your side with his hand still holding yours as a silent anchor in the hushed space. He continued to speak with his voice a soft, continuous presence in the hushed space continuously recounting tales, and shared dreams. He was weaving a tapestry of memories meant to guide you back.

As he recounted a particularly fond memory of a midsummer festival where you both had danced under the stars until the world seemed nothing more than a swirl of lights and laughter your eyelids began to flutter. It was a slight movement but enough to pause the flow of his words.

Your eyes slowly opened as they adjusted to the dim light of the room, focusing with effort on the figure who had not left your side. Legolas watched you carefully. His breath held in a mixture of hope and anxiety. Seeing your eyes finally meet his, a wave of relief and joy washed over him, though he tempered his reaction. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm you.

"You're awake," he said softly. His voice a mix of wonder and warmth, his grip on your hand tightening gently.

You managed a weak smile. Your voice barely a whisper but filled with gratitude and warmth. "Legolas..." you breathed, your eyes locking onto his conveying everything you felt but couldn't yet say.

He leaned closer with his forehead nearly touching yours. His eyes were bright with emotion. "You are home," he whispered as his voice trembled slightly. "You're here with me. That is all that matters."

You nodded weakly, your smile widening just a bit. "Home," you agreed softly, the word holding so much more than its simple meaning. It was a promise, a recognition of the bond that had brought you back from the brink.

Legolas brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His touch ever so gentle and reverent. "I was so afraid of losing you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your bravery, your sacrifice... I cannot bear the thought of a world without you in it."

Your hand squeezed his lightly. A small gesture but one that conveyed strength and reassurance. "I'm here," you whispered back, the effort taxing but necessary. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"We have so much more to see together. So many more memories to share," Legolas continued with a smile playing on his lips. "I promise from now on every moment will be a testament to the life you fought so hard to return to."

Your smile widened a bit more, your energy still faint but growing with every moment of connection. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world," you replied. Your voice was stronger this time, filled with the promise of many tomorrows.

In that quiet evening with the last light painting the world in hues of pink and gold, Legolas and you shared a moment of profound gratitude and love. A bond deepened by trials and now unbreakable by anything that the future might hold.

As your strength slowly returned Legolas took you to a secluded glade one evening. A hidden sanctuary where the world's concerns seemed to dissolve under the brilliance of the starlit sky. The air was cool and carried the sweet scent of blooming night flowers. You both settled on a soft blanket surrounded by the tranquil whisper of the forest.

Looking up at the stars Legolas turned toward you, his blue eyes reflecting the celestial light. He took a deep breath as if preparing to share something significant, and then began to speak. His voice soft yet clear. "I've spent many nights under these stars," he said, "but none felt as profound as tonight, being here with you." He paused giving you a moment to absorb the words. "When you were hurt, when I thought I might lose you, I realized something vital. Just how much you mean to me, how deeply I care about you."

Your heart fluttered with a mixture of surprise and joy. The sincerity in his voice and the earnest look in his eyes it was all you had ever hoped for yet never dared to expect. "Legolas, I...," you started your emotions thickening your voice. "I've felt the same way for a long time. But I never thought—"

"That we might have a future together?" Legolas interjected gently. "I know. I've been a fool, letting time pass without speaking my heart. But I don't want to hide my feelings anymore. I love you. More than I can say."

Tears welled in your eyes but not from sadness but from a profound relief and happiness. "I love you too," you replied. Your voice a soft echo of his own declaration. "I always have."

Legolas reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with a gentle touch. "Then let us make a promise tonight," he suggested. His gaze locked with yours, "to never hold back our feelings. To cherish each moment, we have together and to face whatever comes with unity and strength."

You nodded, feeling the weight and warmth of his hand in yours. "I promise," you said. "To all of that."

The night deepened around you, but in the glade, illuminated by starlight, a new chapter of your life together began. It was a promise made not just in words but in the shared glances, the gentle touches, and the quiet commitment to face life's complexities together. With Legolas by your side the future seemed not just a path to walk but a journey to cherish.

The next morning, with the promise of the previous night still fresh and luminous like the dawn Legolas sought his father in the tranquil palace gardens. Dappled sunlight filtered through the ancient trees casting golden patterns on the mossy floor.

"Father," Legolas began with his voice carrying a newfound confidence mixed with joy, "last night under the stars, Y/N and I made a promise. I wish to ask her to let me court her with the intention of marriage."

Thranduil paused with his gaze piercing as he turned to face his son. For a moment his expression was unreadable. Then, a wide, genuine smile transformed his face. "Finally," he exclaimed with a rare chuckle. "You have truly found your path, my son. It is about time."

Legolas smiled, a weight lifting from his shoulders with his father's blessing. Bolstered by this support he planned a special moment to formally begin the courtship. He chose a small, exquisite pendant shaped like a star. An echo of the night that had sealed your shared destiny.

Later that day as you stood in the lush Mirkwood gardens Legolas approached you. The late afternoon sun lit the clearing casting long shadows and bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. In his hand he held the delicate star-shaped pendant which sparkled as it caught the light.

"Y/N," he said gently, drawing your attention. His hand extended offering the pendant to you. "Last night, under the starlight, we promised to face whatever comes together. With all my heart, I ask you now, will you let me court you with the hope and intention that one day you will be my wife?"

The moment was overwhelming. More tears sprang to your eyes as the magnitude of what this meant filled you. You had loved Legolas for so long, sometimes fearing your affection was a solitary flame. Now hearing his heartfelt words, confirming that he felt the same, was a relief so profound that sobs of joy escaped you.

"Yes, Legolas," you managed to say between gentle sobs. Your voice thick with emotion as you reached out to take the pendant. "Yes, of course I will."

Legolas stepped closer. His eyes shining with the same emotion. He took the pendant and carefully clasped it around your neck. He cupped your face in his hands wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

"This is just the beginning meleth nîn," he whispered. His voice as tender as the touch of the evening breeze. "A promise of a lifetime together, filled with love and understanding."

In that enchanted moment with the beauty of Mirkwood surrounding you and the promise of a future together everything felt utterly perfect. The garden seemed to hold its breath, the leaves whispering in the wind, as if nature itself was acknowledging the depth of your bond. The journey ahead would indeed have challenges but with the strength of your love you knew you could face them with him.

Taglist Sign Up: @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @kenn-spencerswifey

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Beverley Nichols and the Bensons

E. F. (Fred) Benson, Beverley Nichols and A. C. (Arthur) Benson

Beverley Nichols dined with Fred and went into raptures about [Fred's] house, saying in his usual whimsical way that the furniture seemed to have been put in its place by the gentle hands of Time; the pictures had almost grown into the walls; and the carpets had sprung naturally from the floors like some gracious form of grass. According to Nichols, Fred's face glowed with happiness as he showed his guest round the house. He was described as ‘a smallish (Fred was five feet ten), pinkish, twinkling, urbane, grey-flannel-trousered man’ who had finally come to rest in a quiet London square, having retained the sparkle of his eyes, his taste for Italian wine and, above all, his love of a sheet of white paper in the stillness of the night. Fred, who had not ‘come to rest’ at all, noted with amusement the slight cattiness behind Nichols's gush. [Geoffrey Palmer and Noel Lloyd, E. F. Benson: As He Was]

Beverley Nichols was a lunch guest and on one occasion he came with his nephew. This must have been the time he was contemplating his piece “E. F. Benson, or Very Much at Home” (from Are they the same at home? 1927), because Mr Benson asked him if he was going to show it to him before he published and he said yes. But apparently he didn't, as Mr Benson was pretty peeved at a reference in the article to his novels "growing more and more dusty on the shelves of the subscription libraries. He doesn't care, I'm sure." In fact he did. "Mr Benson didn't like that at all," said Charlie [Tomlin]. Mr Benson had a mild dig at him in retaliation in some review of a publication where Beverley Nichols is in Italy or somewhere abroad and suddenly at the end realises it is April and the daffodils are blooming in England. So he has to rush home, of which Mr Benson wrote "I hope to God he got back in time." (Beverley Nichols was to retain a certain animosity towards Mr Benson until his own death in 1983.) [Cynthia and Tony Reavell, E. F. Benson: Remembered, and the World of Tilling]

Despite this shared animosity between him and Fred, Nichols previously maintained a long friendship with the older Benson brother, Arthur:

In the space of two minutes my war — my very special war — seemed much less unpleasant, because my new friend was none other than the Master of Magdalene, A. C. Benson, whose father had been one of Queen Victoria's favourite Archbishops. There were three Benson brothers, all distinguished in their separate ways, though the only one who is nowadays remembered is E. F. Benson, who is currently enjoying a belated revival as a writer of Edwardian comedy. A. C. Benson, whom I came to know very well indeed, was a true scholar and an admirable administrator, with a knack of coaxing large sums out of American philanthropists for the benefit of Magdalene, which was his chief love. A beautiful little college it was, with a library of exceptional distinction, founded on the original bequest from Samuel Pepys. Benson was a mixed-up man, who had a habit of developing sentimental attachments at a moment's notice, and no doubt this was what had occurred when he met me in the porch, though I did not at first realise the full implications of the encounter.

[���] Ever since my departure [A. C. Benson] had kept in touch through a constant stream of correspondence. No young man ever had a kindlier mentor; he wrote as an equal, drawing me out, seeking my opinions. He was not only kindly but practical. Realising that I had no means apart from my meagre Second Lieutenant's pay, he took some of my letters and sent them to an American magazine called The Outlook with the suggestion that they should be published anonymously. They were accepted, and the editors asked for more. Altogether I made five hundred dollars from The Outlook, which was a small fortune in those days. For the first time I knew the excitement of writing words on paper and selling them, of twisting my pen into symbols that could be exchanged for gold. Which is all that authorship has ever been about, or ever will be. I do not know whether The Outlook still survives and Benson's letters to me have long since disappeared, with the exception of one, which I kept and cherished because I had a feeling that it was a landmark in my life.

"My Dear Beverley, We do not know each other as we might have done, but if you have come to know me at all you will have realised that one of my ‘complexes’ — I believe that is the fashionable expression — is a hatred of waste. Perhaps that is why I can claim some success as the Master of Magdalene. I keep a very strict watch on the outgoings of the Bursary! But it is not only a matter of accountancy. It goes deeper than that. I am bewildered and alarmed by the profligacy of Nature, and even more bewildered and alarmed by the wastage of this hideous war. I think that you are being wasted. You have many talents and none of them is being used. With your precarious state of health your sphere of activities must be limited, but that does not mean that you can be of no use at all. As soon as I see an opportunity I propose to do something about this. Once you suggested to me — with that never-failing impertinence which I find so engaging — that I was an ‘intri- guant.’ (I had been telling you the story of the ingenious manner in which I had persuaded a Chicago millionaire to give us ten thousand dollars for our beloved Library.) You could not have paid me a higher compliment. Intrigue, to me, is the spice of life. I am an ancient spider, sitting in the centre of an ancient web, weaving ancient spells. And some of them will shortly be speeding in your direction. My affectionate greetings, A.C.B."

The ink of the letter has dimmed to a sickly sepia, and the address on the envelope, with its faded penny stamp, is almost illegible. But I still feel a glow of warmth as I read it, with half a century of disillusionment behind me. [Beverley Nichols, The Unforgiving Minute: Some Confessions from Childhood to the Outbreak of the Second World War]

[dumbbitchfrommars]

MERCURY YOU CRAZY GIRL!

to be completely fucking honest. im terrified. im terrified of the fact ive pushed this away for so long when it feels like everyone has known it before i did. its not fair. its not fair that everyone should know me better than me. its embarrassing, and frustrating. but she's so lovely and kind and cares about me. and would never talk badly on me, and would never shame me or make me feel bad about myself. like GENUINELY, genuinely, always wants the best for me. which is crazy. crazy because its so rare, when i have tried to emulate that energy for so many before.

interestingly though. i always say how i try to be this safe person, this loving kind caring yada yada - but really, am i though? i try to be, for sure. i try my very best. but im never quite there. my own insecurity gets the better of me and i turn into the harsh critic and judge that i can be to my own self. but she would never, is never, and it inspires me. ive already changed so much for the better in the time since we met and became close and began our adventures together. that's what it is - an adventure. is that not everything ive been asking for and manifesting?

she's literally my soulmate that ive been dreaming of and asking for and manifesting and describing in detail for the past, what, year? maybe just less. anyway. i was so overwhelmed and scared. which is fair enough! she sprung it on me out of fucking nowhere. like genuinely felt like it came from left field. which makes it more fun and exciting for me. like not only am i worthy of that, but she really waited to make certain we were both ready for that. is it because i wanted to go back to my ex, and that stupid fucking taurus boy? she saw i was ready to open my heart again. though clearly for the wrong people.

but i should be wary... its mercury retrograde. also what if it doesnt work? what if im not ready ? its been so long ive been in my comfort zone. i dont want to stay there anymore. its boring and stagnant and stale and im sick of it. i want to grow. growth means discomfort. growth means taking a leap of faith. i quit my job, i did the crazy things i told myself i couldnt for years and years, im just living. im doing things for the sake of doing them because i can and its my right. and now... this is just the next thing god has planned for me. my twin flame in the form of a beautiful warm completely magnetic taurus woman who sees and brings out the absolute best in me. thats actually crazy.

i am still wary though. i have to do this carefully. because neither of us want to ever lose each other, of course, and shes my best friend. the whole dynamic of everything is about to change so we have to be slow, and tentative, and ever so careful. i dont want to hurt her. i dont wanna be the person who hurts her again... shes been through enough.

its funny... its funny to look back and realise every single one of my closest female friendships was like this. all the ones that ended messy - could it have been uncommunicated, unrealised feelings for eachother? one sided feelings for each other? or just chaos on both ends. or all of it. i do think i failed to realise how much my bisexuality and confusion in my feelings for my friends had impacted the dynamic and how i ended the friendship (or how they ended it and it hurt me). also - SO MANY TAURUSES?!

why is it always a taurus. ? apparently this is gods reminder that i need to slow down, enjoy life and take extra moments for the simple pleasures in life. like this! writing, my one true love. it would be so nice if God could grant me a burst of inspiration, because i miss writing. i miss getting into the flow state of creating. of building a world that i get to come back to whenever i feel like it, for an escape or for a reminder of how big, beautiful and wonderful my brain really is.

anyways, that was all. ill check back in a couple of weeks when the next massive change happens and my world is flipped upside down again. also crazy - i think i lost my malachite. served your purpose, have you?

[stronghours]

SUNSHINE IN THE SKY REPRISE

And it came to pass, a few weeks after she and Jules made a bad decision on his thrifted futon, that they met again during 4th of July merrymaking. 

Lux toddled in grey lake water among Ava, Claire, and Archie (Celeste down and out with summer flu). Lux couldn’t swim, a fact disclosed in private to Ava, which Ava hadn’t kept to herself, and the group formed a stooped, anxious ring around her doggy-paddling. She was forced, among the smell of hot dogs in the safe green grass hundreds of yards beyond and the ominous cloud cover above, to make sure only her ass whomped her protectors’ knees when the waves tried to boil her body up and away. She’d made a mistake, and her only wardrobe protection beyond her suit itself and her spandex underthing was a hastily added solid color sarong, which while dry didn’t match, and while wet, just looked lousy and modest. But she couldn’t be parted with it and had made up a past bout of minor skin cancer, a pin-mole insidiously located on her protected inner thigh, the paranoia of which haunted her still. Even Ava dropped her chin for the C-word.

Now she suggested Lux float on her back and allow her perception of the water to form fingers in the magic slot located on her lower back, and soon she’d be floating like crazy among the wacky kids and her hot workmates and her boss and all their invisible pubes. A wave slapped dirty fingers up Lux’s nose.

“It’s kind of like learning a language,” Archie contributed. “Got to learn it when you’re young. Looks like your parents fucking doomed you.”

“My pap pap slam-dunked me in our above-ground when I was five,” said Claire, who floated tummy-down in frog position by exerting no effort Lux could observe. “I bobbed right back up, but like, what if I hadn’t?”

Lux, six feet tall, decided to use it to her advantage and planted her knees in the sandbar. She could just about do it and keep her eyes and forehead in periscope position.

“Reuben and I are thinking of installing an above-ground,” said Ava, and seeing Lux shrink, rose to her feet and splashed water across her dewy collarbone. Lux pushed every single one of them out of her mind and stared between the chops out into the open sea to make-believe Michigan somewhere on the other side. A rhythmic slap approached from the left and the white bow of a lifeguard’s canoe sailed past their collected heads.

“Hey now,” scolded the familiar voice behind the sunglasses, “only three hot bitches are allowed in the water at a time. Think of the community.”

Ava sloshed around at the familiarity, but everybody else had already noticed it was, absurdly, Jules, and sent up a bunch of soggy greetings, all except Lux who rose into a semi-crouch in the drifting seabed out of surprise, and Ava, who let them all perform verbal recognition on her behalf and only spared a nod.

Jules looked very high school, very lanky on the bobbing bench, with the oars braced under his tanned arms and his cute red tank top cinched under his fanny pack. He rode the up-down of the surf the same way he did most things, with enough bored grace to suggest he’d learned quite enough and had more interesting things to do. Lux had recently learned this conceit of his could be bypassed, and she was glad he kept the sunglasses on when he looked her over.

“What’s up Cathy,” he said, with the same Sophomore carelessness, and she plunged her head under an oncoming wave, the pressure preferable to the dawning knowledge that now, he had information he could disclose, and he’d had it for weeks.

She rose again, squinting. She couldn’t tell if he had caught on.

“What?” he asked. “What did I do?”

“You got another job, Jules?” Ava surged forward, displaced Lux. “Roscoe doesn’t give you enough to do, on top of commissions?”

“Give me another commission and you’ll find out.” He drew the left oar’s pole hard under his titty to keep the nose of the canoe from slicing into their crescent. The mechanism bucked like a horse and the wind snatched the ugly white hat off his head and toward an oblivion of preteens due north. Claire yelped and threw herself into the water, rippled away to go fetch it. “You ever been in the cellar underneath Rawhide, Ava? That’s like, thrice-darkness. I was gonna kill myself.”

“I’ve never been in a situation that required me to be in the cellar underneath Rawhide.” Prim Ava glanced pityingly at Lux, who allowed wave after wave to pummel her head in her effort to stay low. “Poor baby. She can’t swim.”

“Throw her off the pier,” Jules suggested.

“It worked for Claire’s pap pap,” Archie said, and braced an annoying hand on the back of Lux’s neck. “Sorry babe, looks like you’re going down.”

Lux threw herself underwater before Archie could push her into the drink. Beneath the top swell she had enough time to touch her palms to the sand and try to dig her hands where she’d braced her knees, but she was blind, and the divots were washed away and the grains were swept off and replaced swept off and replaced, and she panicked when the water tugged the sarong’s knot. She resurfaced from the green and grey, coughing and yanking the weedy fabric around her legs. Ava, shining and petite against the sky, so securely tucked to smoothness, had finished with Jules herself and was high stepping back to shore.

“…I’m just saying, you should definitely try it out –” Archie had spoken in the interim. Jules was nodding. He’d shoved the sunglasses up and over his curly head and while his gaze was trained forward to take in the gamboling bathers, Lux could feel him keeping her in the corner of his eye.

 -

She remembered being in good if overenergetic spirits. She recalled a hot yellow sun. She wore her lavender halter with the powder-blue culottes, her hair freshly hennaed from the night before and trustily bunned. She traveled from a three-hour duo with Ava regarding some mind-numbing bouts of predicament ropework that left her guiltily bored of the client and his ballerina snobbishness, but pleased with her improving knots, and with the fact she could at least trick Ava into thinking she was a viable rope top. She’d exited the bus prematurely and entered the sidewalk throng to burn through her constipated spirits, past a raucous patio partition of a dippy sport’s bar and collided with Jules himself, exiting.

It was like striking a human-size grasshopper. He recoiled, elbows up, and almost upset a busboy’s tray. She reared at his excess, ready to dive into the full indulgence of her insult. In the past year after the Annelise Petro incident she’d only seen him at a distance. Their last words, exchanged in close quarters within Jules’s car more than twelve months ago, had not been civil. He was much tanner than she remembered of him in previous summers. He’d filled out in the chest and shoulders. For a second, she could glimpse he’d gained some weird physical vitality – but as she observed, the color drained from his face. His shoulders slumped. He looked sick as a dog. She’d thought he was drunk.

She grabbed him by the shoulders and steered his head away from her. “Do not,” she ordered, “Do not fucking puke on me.”

He pulled himself straight but didn’t dislodge from her grip. “Don’t say anything,” he hissed, dirt-sober, and before she could make him clarify, a middle-aged couple loomed over his shoulders. The woman, a full six inches shorter than both Lux and Jules (it was just then Lux realized she and Jules were precisely the same height) sparkled nervously, trussed in Cubs blues.

“Oh Jules,” she said, “Who’s this?”

She was blond and ferrety, but in the man, Lux could see a sour and fleshy shadow of Jules’s own face and bearing. He looked at her with the same stern contemplation Jules had leveled on her in the past, and Jules presently, dead in the eyes, curled in on himself like a shrimp.

She’d inexplicably exited her rancorous ditch and stumbled over Jules in the no-man’s land of Blood Relatives. She wanted to, against all rational thought, shove him behind her back and put her arms out.

Instead, she reached a hand to the man (dad? Oh boy, what fun) and chirped, “Hi, I’m Catherine!”

And to the woman (mother? God in heaven), “don’t we just all love Jules!”

The woman shriveled with feeling that hardly looked like relief. The man gravely shook Lux’s hand, and she was pleased with his grip’s condescending pressure. Her body moved far ahead of her brain. She could see herself at distance, popping one toe behind her planted heel, one hip cocked, tits pushed out, but no further than her glowing smile. “And how do you two know each other,” the man said, said, explicitly did not ask. Neither man nor woman introduced themselves.

Jules, white-lipped, opened his mouth but Lux flowed over him. “2007,” she answered, “Leidermeister Playhouse, down in, uh, are you from around here? No? Well, Tinley-ish. Way down there. Spring musical. I was on playbill. And Jules was doing costumes for Pippin.”

For the first time, Jules treated her to the sweet sight of his smug, sick face struck totally dumb.

“Theater!” The woman bubbled. She put her hand on her companion’s meaty forearm, placating.

But the man was not letting her go without a fight. “Theater,” he said. “And what part did you play.”

She treated him to her glowing smile first (cracking, a little). If Jules had learned his own abysmal manners from these creeps, then he’d somehow made improvements on his own time.

“The Mother,” she improvised. “Of course.”

“Stepmother,” Jules piped up, at last.

It was all yadda-yadda to Lux, but the man finally checked the neon dial of his watch, gripped the woman by the elbow, said they would have to start taking pains for a cab if they wanted to catch the game in time. “Sure,” Jules said, though his permission hadn’t been asked, his advice unsought. “You’re not far away.”

“You call her and say you saw us, sir,” the man said. “She’ll expect it.”

Jules was too busy accepting limp patty-pats from the woman, who shot Lux a tragic grin before she scampered up the sidewalk, followed by the broad back of her presumed husband. No proper hug, no I-Love-You, no masculine head smacks or back whacks or take-care-of-yourself-you-hear pronouncements. They just walked away. Her own parents would be appalled.

The life was coming back to Jules’s face, but he was still doubled over, as if from a cramp. “Jiminy Christmas,” he uttered, and she wanted, in a surge, nothing more than to pinch his cheeks and trap his head in her armpit and noogie him to death and bust his fluff. Instead, she assisted him away from the crowd, and before long they strolled down a quiet residential street, arm in arm. She decided to give him five whole minutes to recover from the encounter, but he did it in two.

“Ledermeister,” he said to her, appalled.

“Leider,” she corrected.

“You nutty bitch,” he dared, but there was no gas behind it.

“It’s like you think I’m some kind of pervert or something,” she said, and before she could help it, she started to nag. “What did you think I was going to say? Jules makes rubber sex suits with built-in condoms? I saw him in street clothes in a high-etiquette dungeon fingering my boss’s twenty-one-year-old latex bottom?” She felt him up a little in her haste, accidentally, and he squeaked. “Who actually has something to lose here?” She asked. “Who’s the fucking dominatrix here?”

“You don’t like me,” Jules said, coolly. “I had no idea what you would say.”

He sounded terribly calm. The sidewalk was dappled in shadows of maple leaves and, boxed in by reasonable townhouses on both sides, she was inclined to stay calm as well, and in her calm, she found a strange truth.

“I like you just fine,” she said.

“Oh.”  

She liked him just fine. She liked him more than she liked Ava.

They walked.

“God, it’s fucking hot,” she said. It would be more comfortable not to have their arms around the other, but she didn’t unlatch.

“I moved to this neighborhood a couple weeks ago,” he said. “We’re not too far. I’ve got a window unit.”

A window unit meant he’d accumulated an actual window; a net gain from what she remembered of the dismal basement unit she’d ducked inside three times over their three year acquaintance, along with a damp cement strip notating the kitchen and two hoary pipes jutting six inches from the ceiling where tawny water dripped into provided buckets and Jules himself, barefoot, crisscross applesauce on a carpet square stringing the hundredth of ten-thousand waiting bugle beads with one or two local drag queens, staring open mouthed at a small, shit television propped up on a pile of clean laundry encased in a garbage bag, and onscreen a shoulder-padded daytime soap actress made lines like “there’s nothing to worry about Blake – do you really think I’d expose the Nazi treasure to outsiders?”

“Yeah, let’s,” she said.

He’d found a squat, orangey building with collapsed flower beds out front and only the faintest smell of weed in the halls. She noted, vain, that he opened the doors for her and motioned her up the stairs first and it wasn’t until she’d reached the top landing of the third floor, and he was sorting out keys that she felt the pluck of that old sexy situation, which was Going Inside a Boy’s Apartment, something she hadn’t done since college, and even at that time, something that usually happened under the close watch of protective friends. She couldn’t eye him either, to see which way his intentions were shifting – he was already eying her – but then he let her inside and the feeling was wiped out by absurd, maternal relief.

“Oh, thank God,” she blurted out. “This is so much better.”

The place still smelled like paint and floor wax, and she walked about at her leisure, touching the walls, and flapping her arms, knowing she wasn’t going to crash into a spiderweb or trod on mummified centipedes. The only furniture yet was a pulled-out futon (he was a bedmaker, who knew) and the walls had been built out to delineate a kitchen. She lifted the back of her shirt to the air conditioner.

“I thought you were an idiot for accepting that place, before,” she told him, regarding the old basement. “Or you’d picked it to antagonize people on purpose.”

“Give me a break! I was broke. I was nineteen.”

He shed one flip-flop on his way to the kitchen. She watched it prone on the floor while she calculated.

“No, no,” she reminded him. “When we first met, Ava said you were twenty. We were in a bar. She made you duck under the table when the bouncer made rounds. You were illegal.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said, unevenly thwap-thwapping back to her. He handed her a beer. “I was here a whole year before you showed up. I came before you.”

He sat on the edge of the futon, and she considered that perspective as he scratched the back of his shin with his bare foot. He had long, narrow feet, and when he was looking at things that weren’t people looking back at him, his eyes tended to glaze over. He was looking at the blank wall.

“Hold up,” she said. “How old are you now?”

“Old enough for you to sit next to me,” he replied.

It didn’t mean anything, coming from him. She left her beer on the windowsill and sat next to him. He’d have to get a nicer bed at some point, she thought, bouncing up and down a little, and wondered if, all along, his manners and his living situation pissed her off so much not because, as she initially believed, they were representations of his obnoxious personality, but because she had been frightened that he was going to get hurt and clearly no one else around was going to warn him otherwise.

“You must have left your parents pretty quick,” she said.

“That was my aunt and uncle, just now.”

“Were they more fun when you were growing up?”

“My grandma raised me,” he said. “For eight years. Then we swapped.”

She unfastened her sandal straps and tried to dream up a guess about him that could possibly be correct, but she had the feeling if she said raised in a house? He’d go no, in Mr. Toad’s canary-colored caravan, and the woodland squirrels taught me how to sew, and I lost my virginity to Morlocks. She wondered if she was the first girl he’d ever brought up here. She wondered if his aunt and uncle already knew he was gay. She wondered if he was gay. And in her wonderings, she missed, at first, his growing impatience beside her. He touched her hand; she accidentally flipped her right sandal underneath the futon.

“Crap,” she said.

He rolled his eyes and slid to the floor, slipped between her legs, and with one cheek pressed to her thigh he rooted one armed underneath the springs and came out with the sandal, which he deliberately tossed several feet away. He came up on his knees, face lifted to hers, and she had to spread her own knees to accommodate him. His stern little expression was very cute, and she was warm with pleasant condescension, something sorely missing from her and Ava’s ropework that afternoon. She was tired of art, she decided, ignoring Jules’ cold hands creeping up the back her shirt, and she was tired of fantasy and she was sick of endurance feats physical and mental, and she was tired of her own cowardly communication, so much so the tiny bubble of unearned pride she felt for Jules’s ability to maneuver himself into the positions he required ballooned, out of control, into an old familiar cocoon where she couldn’t hurt him and he couldn’t hurt her.

“Nobody knows,” he told her, perhaps feeling it too. “But I can be a good boy.”

Jiminy Christmas, indeed. But he couldn’t have her for cheap, and he clawed her spine too confidently. She put her palm to his left cheek, let her thumbnail scrape over a pale divot where it looked like the nap of a paint scraper had teased out a pill of his flesh, years ago.

“Listen,” she asked, and squeezed his ribs with her knees. “If you had met me while I was with relatives, and I looked scared about it, what would you have done?”

His fixed gaze skittered to the side, over the wall, across the floor, and while he didn’t retreat, he only spoke up when his face reached a zenith of clumsy guilt. “I would have fucked around with you first,” he admitted. “Only a little.”

“I thought so,” she said, and smacked him a nasty one across the face.

With no furniture around, the crack resonated. Jules took it open-eyed. He didn’t whine or argue and only clenched his jaw a couple seconds after, when the real pain hit. He faced her again, glowing and pink, his left eye watering. She couldn’t help it. She grabbed his head and squeezed and clawed and palpated, yanked his lamby hair, perfect for yanking, and beat his butt with her heels. His head thrashed and his hands flapped around behind her back. She seized one and forced it down on the blanket and let the other undo her halter knot while she bridled him with her free thumb. His back molars rose on the edges in sharp ridges, and she whirled her wrist under his chin until she could see him swallow from the inside. The whites of his eyes showed.

“Good boy my ass,” she said, to herself, but he heard and appeared wounded. “Okay, okay,” she conceded. She wiped her thumb on his face, forgave him silently, and even her playful meanness disintegrated. He crawled over her lap and rubbed his red-hot face in her shoulder, gnawed painlessly on her clavicle. His shorts stuck out in front.

She knew a hundred ways of positioning and a hundred more roleplay scenarios he’d probably accept without suspecting she used them not to her pleasure, but to protect her modesty. She was sick of it all, hadn’t fucked or been fucked properly since she’d been his age, and was horny enough to maim. She took him again by the shorthairs along the nape of his toasted neck, and when he sighed down her back, she pressed his hand to her groin.

“Feel,” she ordered.

He felt dopily, paused, and resumed. Squeezed. Offered no comment.

“Tell me what that is,” she said.

He had delicate ways when he had enough patience to reveal them. Without asking permission he slipped a hand down her waistband, far between her legs, far too quickly for her to chase him off, and by the time she felt him properly, he held her so the head nestled in the heel of his hand, wedged against the meat of his thumb. He felt her up against the underside vein of his silky wrist.

“That’s the cock that’s gonna fuck me,” he answered, correctly.

 -

She had condoms in her purse. He had Vaseline in a bric-a-brac moving tub besides the futon. He rolled onto his narrow tummy, and she flipped him onto his back again so fast he nearly rolled off the mattress. She wished, as she watched him raise a knee and finger himself, that she’d brought her toolkit with her from the club where she kept her nitrile gloves and her fancy salves and her more mobile toys. Jules laid himself out on the futon like somebody else would on a beach, languid and comfortable and she pressed one of his nipples with impatience. She suspected he’d be chatty, but he didn’t speak at all during the preliminaries. He had more body hair than she would have expected, but not enough to grab, and a severe bathing suit tan line that reminded her of Ava’s jabs about the minor gossip between him and Roscoe. She wondered if some queen paid him to lay out on a patio somewhere, if that kind of arrangement still happened, and she wondered if he could let go of the sniping and the attitude long enough to show that hypothetical crowd what he was showing her now – that he was, actually, a very good boy.

When he was ready for her, the very good boy reached out with his arms (and made gimme-gimme clutches with his hands). She obligingly sank on top of him, then, quicker than she intended, into him, guided by his hooked shin and a decisive hand on her ass. She clawed his scalp and arched, involuntarily driving herself forward. A telltale sensation like he’d dumped a bucket of his own blood over her head soaked her from head to toe, and for a hot second she thought it was too late – then he jerked one her nipples until she shrieked and came back to him, stunned. 

You’ve got more than that in you, she heard him say, through the haze in her brain, and in between two blinks he swapped out the sadist faunlet for, once again, being her very good boy, and he undid her bun with one hand and guided her head so he could kiss her mouth and calm her down. She saw from above his legs lock around the small of her back. She was shocked she could get hard enough to effectively penetrate, a shock that blissfully vaporized as she rocked inside him.

His own cock, which they mutually ignored, was restrained by her soft stomach. Her breasts ached, pressed against his chest, and she had to break free from his clasp to prop herself on her forearms. He followed her, licked her lips until she gave up and sank back down. The tip of his nose was cold against her cheek. She could feel his lashes and the curve of his eyeball roam around in the socket. He was a ferocious and intent kisser, not nearly so languid now, and every goosebump outside his skin and strand of muscle beneath rose to her, encased her in his prickles. His focus made her quite aware of a separation between her hips (melted, as far as she was concerned) and her brain, electric-bright now, entertaining Jules by turns as a barbed, poisonous plant, as a nuzzling, brainless creature, as a mean bottom slut who clawed her bottom and held her hair in a knot in his fist, who maybe needed to be exercised as a handler would a spirited pony, in order to nurture his kindness, improve his manners, and keep his juices fresh – and she giggled involuntarily, a tight muscle in her back relaxed, and she came inside a boy for the first time.

She either made an unacceptable noise, or a had been making noises all along. A downstairs neighbor ratta-tat-tatted their ceiling, Jules’s floor. Practical as a fillet knife, Jules pushed her out of his ass, swung one leg wide, slammed his heel rudely against the floorboards, uttered “fuck off, asshole” then rolled back to her again and rubbed his face between her breasts. She cuddled him a couple tender seconds, which he tolerated, before scuttling backward and regarding her from a lucid distance as she disposed the condom.

“Come back here, she said. He looked like a praying mantis.

First, he stuck his legs off the thin mattress and with one judicious sweep of his torso, seemed to crack every bone in his body. Then he crawled over and allowed himself to be held.

“Oh,” she noticed. “You didn’t come.” His dick was still hard, and when he laid his back flat against her hip, it bobbed due west of his belly button.

“Relax, it doesn’t always happen for me.”

She ignored him and let her ego propel her forward. He reclined on her like she was a chaise and breathed through his nose.

“You know what Ava calls you?” She asked, jerking him onward and upward, hopefully.

“I’m a community opportunist,” he answered smugly. “Plus, Roscoe’s houseboy.”

Two out of two, verbatim. She drew her nails up and down his stomach and he twitched, fought against curling up. “Houseboy,” he repeated, hissed. “The last houseboy passed away in the fucking nineties. They peeled him down with the wallpaper.” She felt, through his spine, how he tried and failed to work up a temper. “Then they tatted his chalk outline above some burlesque artist’s John Willie tramp stamp. Mistress Avalon sure is concerned with faggot business.”

“Your boys don’t make you come?” She asked, a hill over him now, and above arguing. He sparred solely with himself.

“What boys? These guys – big guys –”

She went back for more Vaseline, not great for this kind of thing, but she was getting the idea Jules had a sensible nursery spirit and rarely abused himself. He didn’t appear to know much about his body and froze like a striker frame when she rolled the tip of him in her palm for more than fifteen seconds.

“– They think your asshole is your only sex organ,” he continued. “They hate themselves for loving twinks. And then they give you the reach around and if you aren’t wet like pussy then oh-h-h-h my god, it’s like the fucking sky is falling –”

She sat up, and his feet paddled the blanket to stay in contact. He reached behind her and grabbed her hair again but didn’t pull. He turned his face into her neck, and he shook all over.

“Being a slut is really hard,” he said, woefully, failing to hide, for a millisecond, the ghost of what might have been a sweet kid. Or it was her imagination. Either way, she made him come all over himself. It didn’t seem to register to him until the drops hit his chest. He looked down at his sad, wet dick and then back up at her, so testily she laughed in his face. He was smudged pink all over from her lipstick, and she pinched his springy cheeks.

“I’m a cradle-robber,” she declared.

“Okay, Methuselah,” he said, unimpressed, and darted away into the dirty ivory bathroom before she could slap his ass.

He recovered rapidly. In the sunny room things took a slumber party turn. He fetched her abandoned beer, dug out makeup wipes he inexplicably possessed, and repaired the damage to her makeup. He berated her when she couldn’t stop giggling.

“I was kind of wondering…” he began.

He paused. Sex had made him tactful.

“Go on,” she allowed.

“I was wondering if I’d ever figure out why you bothered being a dominatrix.” He used the point of his little finger to clear wet black scuzz from the corner of her eye. She hardly felt it. “Ava’s got her thing about being top dog. Claire’s a sadist. And somebody needs to get around to neutering Archie before he starts spraying the furniture. You, a mystery.”

“You think about me!” She preened and wiggled.

“You go on.”

“I like,” she confided, “to strap muscle hunks to the pommel horse and tickle them until they scream.”

“Gee whiz.”

“I like straitjackets, but I don’t like rope,” she continued. “And I like floggers, but not single-tail whips. And I like human furniture, but not human ashtrays.”

“The Marquis de Lux over here.”

He’d reached around and started French-braiding her hair. She put her ear to his chest and found his mousey heart.

“My mom and dad were angels,” she continued. “And my sisters were angels and my aunts and uncles and my grandparents. They were angels from the start. So was I. I liked it. Doctors like it too. When a kid is angelic, and very, very, very, very good, and says the right things, and rolls over. They give you what you need.” She thought that over. “They decide to give you what you need,” she clarified. “I was rolling over constantly. I didn’t know how to stop. It freaked me out.”

Jules’s heart answered wug-wug-wug. He sat in her lap and tried to get her braid to stay fixed in a twist. “See, I’m the opposite,” he said. “I’m a huge cunt, but I’m always looking for an excuse to be nice.”

Her hair unwound down her back. He clamped her bobby pins between his teeth, to deliberately make the job harder, then, looking down in their laps, spit them on the floor. And as quickly as she decided she needed to find her clothes and depart, having revealed too much, she stayed the entire night.

 -

On the lifeguard pavilions, the green flags were lowered, and yellow flags were handed up.

“Archie,” said Jules, from the safety of the canoe, “Head on back to dry land. No! no,” he called when Archie took Lux’s elbow. “Cathy and I need to talk really quick.”

“It’s not safe,” Archie said.

“I’m Red Cross certified,” Jules said, arms outspread up the oars as far as they could go. “I’m a beautiful heroine, waiting to happen. Also, I’m in fucking charge.”

“Go away, Archie,” Lux agreed, and Archie slopped to the shore, his broad back damp red in the sun’s undergrowth. Dark clouds approached from the west.

“Actually, that’s my boss.” Jules pointed to the sand straight ahead, where a bronzed ingenue, her thigh muscles sticking out like bread loaves, appeared to be watching the duo intently.

“You’ll get in trouble,” Lux cautioned.

“She wants to ride me hard and put me away wet, I think I can get away with it. I feel like you must have,” he added, pointedly. “She’s nineteen.”

It was hard to glare when wet, and it was hard to talk with Jules high and dry. Lux was clammy and clingy, and she couldn’t understand why he sniped at her. Then he crouched down, chest to knees, under pretext of scraping the oars straight down his gunwales and snapped, with pure, guileless annoyance: “Why are you pissed off? I’m the one who should be mad.”

That was too much to bear. “Jules –”

“I showed you my hole and said call me.” He straightened, the little snot, sincerity evaporated. “And you didn’t call me. Now I feel cheap.”

“Jules,” she said, sticking to her own path. “They don’t know.”

“Of course, they don’t know!” He said, clueless, if technically correct. “I didn’t think you’d spread it around to that crowd.”

“Shut up, Jules,” she tried again, and when his mouth opened automatically, she really blew. “Shut the fuck up!”

He shut the fuck up.

“They don’t know. They don’t know.”

She refused to say anymore. She wasn’t in the mood to roll over. Funny, how fucking a guy in the ass could spackle over a few of the gaping holes in her dignity. Patiently, she watched Jules rock to-and-fro, his face oscillating between his premature certainty and the vanishing tail of what she was trying to explain. Then he exclaimed, “huh!” and raised his face to the heavens.

Whistles sounded north and south, and one of his canoe companions raced twenty yards past, churning the creaming waves to reach the point to disembark. Jules ignored it all.

“Oh.” He started, blank-faced. “There’s bossola.”

He waved to the girl on the beach, who was really putting her back into her whistle. “Jesus, baby,” he said just as abruptly to Lux, who had been forced to retreat a few feet to find higher ground. “Now I’m really starting to worry.”

It was either of their guesses, as to what situation he was talking about. Lux wasn’t sure herself, and doubted he knew. His confusion reminded her less of him now, more of him the morning after, when she’d woken up, found him sitting bolt upright, staring at the walls of his clean, sunny studio. He’d turned to her bleary face, and with no confidence whatsoever, asked, Is it really so much better? 

“You want to climb up?” He asked now. “I’ll tell boss you have a cramp.”

“No, I can make it by myself.” She strolled backwards, ass out of the water, and twisted the sarong in front.

“I told Roscoe I fucked a girl for the first time,” he called to her, his eyes cast demurely downward. “You should have seen the sweat roll down his back.”

“I’ll call you,” she promised.

“Yeah, you better,” he advised, and shielded his face against the bursting spray. “Before someone else does. Ladies love the canoe.”

One perky heave-ho, and he displaced bow and stern, fixed his little craft perpendicular to the beach, and cast off toward the pier.

On the beach, Archie and Claire scuttled in the sand, packing their bags, and shaking out their towels. Claire held Jules’s rogue, soaked hat. “I was going to swim back over, but she yanked me out,” she explained, and pointed out Jules’s bossola, who had, watching Lux emerge from the dirty waters, eyed her face, eyed her cleavage, and continued stalking down the shore. She had an ass that needed to be seen to be believed. Lux hoped Jules wouldn’t tease her too much. She might call him sooner, to demand that exclusively. Possibilities, vistas, scenarios, she thought of all these and wrapped her towel around her waist, and she faced the dreary city skyline and she dreamed, and the full force of her imagination asserted itself.

“I’ll give it to him when I see him next.” 

Domme Lux took property of the hat.

Ava, ever watchful, caressed their folded umbrella. “I thought you and Jules didn’t get along,” she said. Deliberately did not ask. Lux, in that moment, didn’t care. It wasn’t her job to teach Ava manners.

“I like him just fine,” she said.

[dreamylittlesugarcube]

First Bliss

Genre: Chanyeol AU, EXO AU, Fluff

Characters: Chanyeol x Reader

Warnings: Kissing, a little bit of swearing

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You’ve unfortunately been selected to participate in your class’s kissing booth for the school festival. You aren’t thrilled, but your best friend (and secret crush), Chanyeol, is even less thrilled. But, thankfully he’s got a plan that’ll make your first kiss extra special. 

A/N: AAHHH! This is my first Chanyeol fic, so I hope you like it–a request from a frequent anon. Please let me know if you have any feedback 😊. And, as always, please comment, like, and re-blog so that others can find this story and enjoy. Thanks! ✨

*Please note: I do not own the above image(s), so credit should go to the original owner(s).*

~*~

“Come on, Y/N, it’s probably not going to be as bad as you think.” Chanyeol sat beside you, dutifully trying to console you as you drowned your sorrows in banana milk and Choco Pies. 

“Yeah–it’s going to be worse than I think,” you whined, burying your head in your hands. “Was I asking the universe for too much?! ‘Let me not be a kisser’, I don’t think that’s reaching for the stars, do you? No! No, it’s not! I have the worst luck in the entire world! 

Chanyeol smartly said nothing, but opened another Choco Pie and handed it to you.

Biting into the delicious treat, the sugar momentarily gave you a nice rush of serotonin. You held the pie out to Chanyeol to share, bidding him to take a bite. You jumped when he grasped your wrist, holding the pie in place as he proceeded to devour the cake in one bite. 

“Geez, Chanyeol! I thought you were going to swallow my entire hand the way you unhinged your jaw just now.” You gave him a playful swat on the shoulder, waiting for him to finish chewing. You unscrew the cap of your banana milk, offering him a swig to wash everything down.

Chanyeol reached for the cake, but before he could grab it from your hands, you pulled back slightly. 

“A sip–you can have a sip! I swear, I’ll kill you if you drink it all,” you warned teasingly. 

Chanyeol grinned. “No you won’t, Y/N, you love me too much for that. Plus, you’d miss me and then there’d be no one to buy you snacks.”

He was right–damn it! About the snacks, yes, but about the other part too. You did love him. Not just in the way a friend loves a friend, but as something more. God, you felt like a walking cliche–falling in love with your best friend was a very tween romance thing to do. You couldn’t help it though–not only was he gorgeous, with his tall physique and twinkling eyes–but he was also amazingly kind, respectful, and incredibly thoughtful. He remembered your birthday, waited for you after class, helped you reach tall things. 

Beautiful on the inside and out. And unfortunately, you weren’t the only one who had noticed. Chanyeol naturally received female attention wherever he went, but always kept girls at arm’s length. Every Valentine’s Day, at least three girls would confess, hoping to win him over–but every time, he gently turned them down. It had been that way as long as you’d known him, since the first day at school when you’d connected over a shared love of the guitar. Your crush had sprung up from the beginning, like a daisy in springtime, but seeing the way he was with other girls, you’d never said anything. Regrettably, this left you pretending that friendship was enough, too scared to share your feelings for fear of losing your best friend. 

Recapturing your milk, you took a swig, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. 

“Well, this isn’t exactly how I thought my first kiss would happen–I pictured something a little…romantic,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment. 

“This’ll be your first kiss?” Chanyeol questioned, looking surprised at your confession. 

“Yeah–I mean not everyone has hoards of love interests just throwing themselves at them,” you teased. 

Chanyeol playfully smacked you on the shoulder, before turning serious. “What would you want it to be like–your first kiss, I mean?”

“I don’t know–I guess, just that it would be with someone special,” you answered, wondering how you got to talking about first kisses with the boy you wanted to be yours. 

~*~

After the bell rang, Chanyeol watched your retreating figure, a tightness forming in his chest. He wanted so badly to pull you close and give you the type of first kiss that you deserved. But your relationship wasn’t like that, afterall–much to his dismay. You’d hooked him since day one, your shared love of music and easy camaraderie had him following you around like a puppy. 

 Admittedly, girls confessed to him on a regular basis. However, he found he could never say yes to any of them–because they weren’t you. It wouldn’t be fair to lead a girl on if he had feelings for someone else…so he waited patiently, biding his time for just the right moment. But, that moment never seemed to come. Everytime he got close, you’d pull away, as if placing an invisible wall between you. You never talked about romantic feelings towards anyone else and his heart ached at the thought of you not being able to hold you in his arms. 

Stroking his chin, he thought back to the ridiculous kissing booth, knowing he couldn’t–wouldn’t give you to anyone else. He didn’t think he’d make it if he had to watch you lock lips with guy after guy, when that was all he could think about–the softness your lips, the feel of you in his arms (finally), the way you’d moan breathily into his mouth–

He slapped himself back to the present, a reminder to focus on the problem at hand. How can I kill two birds with one stone? There was no way he could stomach seeing you give your first kiss to some random guy, and you hadn’t seemed thrilled with the situation either. 

Gears turning in his brain, he smiled as a plan took shape–one that would solve both problems at hand. 

~*~

It was loud. Your classroom, usually a place of quiet learning, had quickly descended into boisterous insanity once word of the kissing booth got out. Peeking out from behind the curtain, you surveyed the long line of enthusiastic young men, all clamoring for a smooch from a comely co-ed. All of the girls had been popular so far, especially the current volunteer, Eun-sae, who was easily the prettiest girl in your year. At this point, you just wanted to get this over with and go home to ramen and a bubble bath. 

Usually, at this point, Chanyeol would’ve tried telling you a joke to take your mind off things, but he had been noticeably absent tonight–and for the last week really–at least mentally. The usual easy-going smile on his face had been replaced with a serious, pensive look, as though he was constantly thinking about something really important. He’d shrugged noncommittally when you’d asked him about it, so you figured he was clearly going through something and wanted to figure it out on his own. 

Besides, you had much more important things to worry about.

As the line dwindled down, the MC called for a short break over the loudspeaker–your cue to get ready. You guzzled some water for good measure and popped a mint, because, at the very least, bad breath wouldn’t be the thing to take you down. Schooling your features, you put on your best “happy to be here” smile and made your entrance, the MC doing his best to hype you up. 

Seated behind the gaudy pink counter, you looked out to find a decent-sized line already forming. The male interest was flattering, sure, but a bit disappointing when it wasn’t from the one you wanted. Honestly, you were kind of thankful Chanyeol wasn’t here to see you like this. 

Without warning, a familiar face made–or rather–pushed his way through to the front of the line, a wad of bills clutched in his hand. Ignoring the chorus of “heys” and “come on, mans”, Chanyeol came to a stop in front of you and dropped a won bill on the counter. 

“Chanyeol, what are you doing?”, you whispered, voice mixed with concern and relief. 

~*~

Chanyeol frantically pushed his way up to the front of the line, not wanting to miss the right moment to intervene.  He saw you sitting alone, awaiting your “audience” and relief filled his body that he wasn’t too late. Ignoring their annoyed comments, he marched up to you, plopping bills on the counter. 

“Chanyeol, what are you doing?” He recognized the relief in your voice, blended with surprise. 

“I’m helping you, Y/N. You said you wanted your first kiss to be with someone special–and I know I’m not that type of special to you, but I figured–he paused, lowering his voice to a whisper, “–that a first kiss with me would be better than with one of them.” He gestured to the ever-growing throng of onlookers gathering around the booth. 

You nodded stiffly, making it hard for him to tell how you felt about the situation. 

Before he could give himself time to second guess, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours in a brief peck. Pulling back, he noted your dazed expression, trying not to red too much into the attractive flush blooming on your cheeks.

Without a word, he turned, taking about three steps before pivoting around and laying another bill on the table, the look of surprise on your face making the entire plan so worth it. He wished he could have made this special for you–whisked you away somewhere private, with candles and flowers. He wished this could have been different–but he had a plan–and it was imperative that he stick to it. 

~*~

You stumbled offstage, a bewildered look on your face. You’d always said you wanted Chanyeol to be your first kiss, but you never imagined that your wish would come true–15 times over. Chanyeol had paid for kiss after kiss, effectively blocking out any of the other boys who might’ve wanted a chance with you. There’d been “oohs” and “aahs” (from the girls) and plenty of “boos” and “get a rooms” (from the guys), with your teacher finally stepping in to tell you to “take this elsewhere.” 

“Y/N?”

You blushed at the sound of Chanyeol’s voice, awkward and unsure of what to say after what had just occurred. You were thankful that the dark lighting backstage hid the color in your cheeks. You turned around to find him staring at the ground–almost nervous in the aftermath.

“Roof?”, you suggested, raising an eyebrow in question. You knew you’d have to have this conversation sooner or later, something better done in private than the backstage of the kissing booth. 

“Roof,” Chanyeol quickly agreed. 

The walk to the fourth floor was as familiar as the back of your hand, but today it felt different. With the earlier mirth long gone, you walked together in silence, questions stuck on your lips…what was this? Was it really all in the name of ‘helping a friend?” The cynical part of you said: He was just being a good friend–nothing more nothing less! However, the unsure, hopeful side of you wondered: Might he like me too? 

Chanyeol came to a stop, leaning against the wall, the sunset casting an orange hue over him. He stood with his eyes closed, almost as though he was sleeping. 

“I’m sorry I ruined it for you.” 

Startled, you looked up to find he hadn’t moved an inch, save for his lips. The lips he’d kissed you with. 

“Ruined wha–”

“Your first kiss, Y/N. You told me you wanted it to be with someone special and I’m sorry it had to be with me. But, it had to be me–I couldn’t just let one of those boys downstairs be the one to–”. Chanyeol cut off, seeming to stop himself from saying something he might regret. 

His response surprised you–sure, you appreciated the gesture. It was just the sort of thing your friend, Chanyeol, would do. The thing was, you didn’t want friend Chanyeol anymore. How could you go back when you’d had a taste of what could be? 

So you pushed. 

“Why? Why does it matter who I kiss?”

Chanyeol scowled and ran his hands through his hair, still not looking in your direction. 

You waited in silence for him to say something. When nothing came, you pushed again. 

“Chanyeol–look at me–you said, ‘it had to be me’. Why did it have to be you?”

Chanyeol met your gaze, the corners of his eyes looking suspiciously red. 

“It had to be me because–because–I love you and I wanted to be your first kiss more than anything.”

You were shocked at his response. A kiss and a love confession from the boy you’d pined after for years? You mentally pinched yourself to make sure all of this was real. 

Chanyeol spoke again, obviously taking your silence as a rejection of his feelings, when it was anything but. He assured you it was okay– that it wouldn’t affect your friendship–that he’d never bring up what happened tonight again.

Put your hand over his lips in a shushing manner, before interjecting: “Chanyeol–I’ve liked you for years. YEARS.” 

Chanyeol blinked in surprise. “Years? You’ve liked me for years?”

You nodded. “Since the very first day we met.” 

Chanyeol flashed a wide, gummy grin. “So, if we both liked each other from the very beginning…what the heck have we been doing all this time, Y/N?”

“Looks like we’ve been dummies,” you responded, pulling his face down for the 16th, most special kiss of the night.

Breathing in the scent of Chanyeol’s cologne and feeling the softness of his lips against yours, you felt incredibly lucky.

Maybe you didn’t have the worst luck in the world afterall. 

~*~

Thank you so much for reading First Bliss, I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to send me an ask and let me know what you think. If you liked what you read, please comment, like, and re-blog so it’s easier for others to find. Love you all! 🌸

[moonbeamwritings]

of salt water and loving gazes

a sequel to “of salt water and curious gazes”

Summary: Making new friends wasn’t necessarily odd, not by any stretch, but making friends with the merman living off the coast by your new home was markedly more so. As you stared at Jotaro beneath the light of the moon, rocking along the surface of the sea, you realized your feelings for your new companion were far beyond friendship.

A/N: Thank you for all of the kind words on the other part and happy Mermay everybody! ⭐

Your meetings with the mysterious merman quickly became a permanent fixture in your routine. Almost every night, with your belly full of whatever you’d scarfed down for dinner, you would tuck yourself into warm, soft clothes and slip on your sandals to begin the trek down to the beach, guided only by the light of the moon.

It was all so weird - befriending a merman was a difficult thing to process after all, but it hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. You’d touched his tail and he hadn’t tried to drown you, or at least not yet. He was much larger than you were and if he’d wanted to kill you with those sharp teeth or drag you to the murky depths below, he would’ve done it already, you rationalized one evening as you shook the sand from your shoes. Despite his hulking, intimidating form, you felt safe by Jotaro’s side, like he was picked out by some higher power to be your welcomed, albeit unlikely, companion.

And you certainly weren’t falling for the beautiful blue of his eyes or the tiny quirk of his lips when you complained about touching squishy seaweed with your toes. Nope, definitely not.

“Come on,” he coaxed gently, holding two webbed hands out to you with an impassive look, “It’ll be fun.”

“How do I know this isn’t some ploy for you to finally drown me? Send me down to the bottom of the ocean to rot?” You asked jokingly, eyeing him with suspicion.

For some reason, it seemed that Jotaro had deemed this evening to be the perfect time to take you swimming, claiming that the moon was in just the right spot, illuminating the water just enough that it wasn’t entirely black. He knew you hated that.

Your questions sent a laugh bubbling from his chest, dipping his body back below the surface as if to highlight just how harmless he was, to hide his massive shoulders beneath the waves, “If I really wanted to drown you, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?”

He had a good point, but you weren’t about to let this joke die.

“Mmm,” you feigned thought, tapping a finger against your chin, “I don’t know, Jotaro. Maybe you’ve lulled me into a false sense of security. For all I know, you could’ve tricked me into being your friend precisely to find a new victim.”

A look you’d never seen before crossed his face, his eyebrows scrunching in concern and his lips frowning for a fraction of a second before returning to his usual indifference. You hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. He had to know that you were only teasing, right? Maybe you’d taken it just a step too far.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that.” His response was short, resolute as he raised his arms from the water, holding his hands out once again.

You sighed, regret bubbling in your stomach. What a stupid comment to make to a new friend. “I know.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook some of the water from his hands, seemingly impatient as he waited for you to decide what to do. “It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean it like that. You know, you don’t actually have to come out here if you don’t want to.”

You looked between him and the moon, admiring the way he seemed to glow where he swam. The water did look inviting and Jotaro even more so, lingering there with his arms outstretched. Clothes could always be washed, you thought.

Stripping off your sweater to reveal your t-shirt and shorts, you nodded. “I want to.”

“You sure?”

Without a second thought, you agreed, reaching your hands out to grip at his shoulders before you slipped into the water. He kept his own securely at your waist, ensuring that you wouldn’t drift off. 

“Not so bad, right?” He asked, chuckling a bit before using his tail to guide you both through the water, setting a leisurely place over the waves.

“It’s freezing.” Came your immediate, disgruntled response, marked by slight tremors in your tone as your teeth chattered. You kicked your own feet in an attempt to warm your body, but it was as if your bones had already frozen solid.

“Just stay close to me,” Jotaro assured. “Or,” he continued, beginning a half-hearted descent beneath the waves, “I could dunk you? That’d warm you up pretty quick.”

You clung to him even tighter, scrambling to move up his body as he shifted, “Don’t you dare.”

You felt his chest rumble with a laugh, adjusting your position so more of your body was above the surface again and as it continued, you couldn’t help but join him, falling into your own laugh as you swam. He really did have a cute laugh, you thought, and it was nice to see him smile so openly. Damn him and his perfect, well, everything.

Perfection aside, being able to spend time with him in his element, drifting in the sea as the smell of salt invaded your nose, was something you wouldn’t trade for anything. There was a quiet intimacy to the moment that you couldn’t quite place, but you allowed it to settle, warming your heart and cheeks in the process.

As silence fell between the two of you, you felt your bones begin to loosen, skin warming thanks to his body heat. You continued to warm up as you felt his chest press flush against yours, so close that the two of you were nearly nose to nose. Lost in his eyes, you watched as his gaze flickered from yours to your lips and back again as he leaned just a fraction of an inch closer. It was as if you were both teetering on the edge of a cliff, waiting with bated breath for something to just... happen. The moment was broken by the sound of him clearing his throat, pulling away from you as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

Had you been imagining it or had he almost kissed you? Why hadn’t he? 

Heat rushed to your face as questions swirled in your mind, a wild storm of what-ifs and missed chances. An arm’s length away, you began to tread water on your own, needing a minute to just breathe.

The strange new energy dissipated quickly, Jotaro diving into a story about the adventure he and his friends had gone on in your absence during the day to distract you, or maybe himself - you couldn’t tell.

The merperson lifestyle always a little lost on you, but you did your best to follow along. Surely, he had no idea what you meant by a cell phone or what grocery stores were really like, so you could cut him some slack as he went into detail about stands - whatever those were - and the intricacies of sea urchin collecting.

You wondered what he was really like beneath the waves as he traveled with his friends. Was he less talkative? Or more? What did his language sound like to those who were fluent in it? Did they think he was crazy for speaking to you? Did they even know?

A splash of water landed right against your face, salt water burning your eyes as it hit you.

Bastard.

“Hey, are you even listening?” He accused, teasing smile resting just about the water’s surface.

“Of course, I am,” you fired back with a smile of your own. “Now tell me everything.”

You and Jotaro continued to talk and idly swim as the moon rose higher in the sky, cold limbs long since forgotten in favor of floating your way along the waves as you chatted with him. It was as easy as breathing, being beside him and feeling the sloshing of the sea beneath your shoulders.

Moments like these reminded you of your grandmother and the gentle words that lingered in your head whenever you took your seat at the end of the jetty. Jotaro, and the great expanse of the ocean itself, left you feeling lighter with each visit, like your problems were just a single drop and nothing more. Spending time with Jotaro was easy and you weren’t sure if you could ever find the words to tell him.

“This is nice.” You spoke, tipping back to allow the water to lap at your hair as you took in the pale light of the moon.

Jotaro’s eyes hadn’t left your form for what felt like an eternity, hypnotized by the way you moved, by the goosebumps across the expanse of your skin - by you. With the near-kiss weighing heavily on his mind, he finally turned away, dipping below the surface of the water to collect his thoughts.

You had accepted him, so wholeheartedly that it nearly made him dizzy. With a single, tentative smile and a brush of your fingers against his fluke on that first fateful night, you’d hooked him in and he knew he’d ever be able to stop coming back. Jotaro also knew though, just how dangerous it was to spend so much time around humans, but he simply couldn’t help it. You were like a shimmering pearl, a precious gem that he couldn’t bear to lose.

And now, with your body closer to his than it had ever been before, a realization came racing to the forefront of his mind. His feelings for you went beyond friendship, beyond harmless nights spent splashing water or trading seashells. 

Jotaro loved you.

Righting yourself to turn back towards Jotaro, you panicked. The horizon around you was empty, save for docked boats and a lighthouse far off in the distance.

“Jotaro?” You called frantically, spinning around in the water in a desperate search for the dark-haired merman, “Jotaro!?”

Your muffled calls sent him reeling back to the surface, pulling one of your hands into his own. He watched as you jumped about a mile in the air before you sprung at him, latching your arms around his neck. “I’m right here.”

“God,” you huffed, breath ghosting over his ear, “Don’t do that. Leaving me out here all alone like a worm on a hook, flailing around like an idiot.”

“Sorry.”

Without thinking, his arms wrapped around your waist, rubbing a reassuring hand along the small of your back. You relished in the feeling for a few moments before leaning back, face mere inches from his own, noses and lips nearly touching.

He was breathtaking like this; hair dripping with water that caught the light of the stars just so, body covered in droplets that shone like crystals. His eyes were rendered even more beautiful with your proximity, a deep turquoise littered with little flecks of blue.

You could just lean in and-

His lips crossed the distance with ease, pressing up against yours as if he had been reading your mind. The kiss was sweet, clumsy and a little too salty, but still managing to send your heart stuttering in your chest all the same. Jotaro supported you both, keeping you afloat with his tail as your arms trailed back around his neck, fingers threading in his wet hair. He kept his hands on your back, clutching your shirt in each fist.

Feeling breathless, you pulled away to rest your forehead against his, a grin beginning to spread across your face. Jotaro swore he’d never seen you so happy. The twinkle in your eyes had him tugging at your waist, twirling you around in the water before pulling you in for another kiss. This one was just as clumsy as the first, a goofy mess of teeth and lips as you struggled to suppress your smiles.

With one final peck, Jotaro pulled away to take a breath, revealing one of the cutest blushes you’ve ever seen. You rushed to bring your hands to his face, cradling his cheeks in your palms as if to savor the moment, to make his flush last that much longer.

“I’m in love with you.” His words came out in a flurry, a sharp contrast to his low, unwavering tone. He was nervous. As if now, after everything, his admission would scare you away.

“I’m in love with you too.” You replied, rubbing a thumb along his smooth, wet cheekbone.

“This doesn’t...” he cut himself off to gesture vaguely at his tail with his eyes, “it doesn’t bother you?”

“I wouldn’t be here right now if it did, right?”

He smiled at that, bringing his lips down to connect with your hairline. “Mm, I guess not. Still think I’m gonna drown you?”

The question caught you off guard, a light giggle escaping your throat as you pressed even closer to his chest. You could feel his heartbeat.

“At this point,” you began, running your hands down to hold his shoulders as your eyes met his own, “I wouldn’t really mind if you did.”

Jotaro started to move with the waves again, casually floating on his back with you clinging onto him. “You have to be careful, you know. I am a vicious beast after all.”

You thought about the kisses you’d just shared, about the way he’d held you as if you would break, about his bashful smile and beautiful laugh and that adorable blush.

“Yeah, sure thing, tough guy.”

Your grandmother had always told you that the ocean soothed the soul, acting as a quiet reprieve from the hustle and bustle of your daily life - an escape. Here, in the arms of one of the ocean’s most beautiful creations, you were certain she was right.

[kylosgenesis]

Teardrops on Fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

Warnings: Mentions of death , A/B/O dynamics

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/gennyzoe/playlist/7xFIhRFa8o2Ae4QJpD1Hp9?si=gWsZ__YOQdKCS81X21jZqw

Chapter 4: I found

Hours had gone by! Bucky was caught of guard with the smell of fire. Faint...but distinct enough he knew it wasn’t his imagination. The chilled air dragged a whiff of the combined scents of fog, smoke, and very faintly in the background... HER!

She was close! He could feel it! This wasn’t new territory to him, but he wondered how she’d ended up hours from her home. He followed the wind, blowing ashes by his face. Leaving a trail, that called to him as if nature was guiding him to her. All the odds were against her tonight, but the forest smelled safe! It was like it protect her from the evil of the elements.

After a couple of minutes on the trail, it hit him! The smell blew the air out of his lungs, he approached the small faded fire with caution. Not wanting to scare her off. As he got closer he noticed her small frame. She was attempting to stand up, but doing so knocked her directly into the fading red embers of where a fire used to be.

The world disappeared for him at that moment! It was her! Just him and her!

And she smelled delicious! Everything is his being screaming to make her his in this very spot, and vanish with her. Nobody to find them! As long as she was there, there was nothing he’d want in this life or another! She was the trophy and the torture, that cursed through him. To love, but never poses. How could he even be thinking of love right now? He hadn’t even looked into her eyes yet.

What if she hated him?

What if she didn’t recognize him?

How was he gonna explain what’s going on to her? She has to know what her body wants right now, what it’s craving for her to do! And how much he wishes to not crave her in the same way.

He bolted to her with all his might, and caught her calling frame. As her eyes slowly faded into unconsciousness, peace resonated in her eyes. He’d dreamed of those eyes for years! And as her body went limp on his arms all he could do was hold her close and pray for the strength to keep her alive and safe... from himself!

She opened her eyes as they adjusted to the moonlight above her. Her body was covered in a warm flannel, she didn’t recognize the source of it.She remembered the eyes she saw before losing consciousness.

Had it all been a dream?

She felt like her limbs were on fire! They responded to every bit of stimulation the flannel was rubbing upon her body. She realized it wasn’t the flannel that was causing her body to jolt up at the feeling of touch; It was that it smelled like an alpha. Her body was trying to absorb as much of him as it could! She was unconsciously reacting to him and granting him access to her.

Hearing a branch break from behind the forest bush, she sprung up as quickly as her body allowed her to react and grabbed a beach from her side.

“Who’s there?” She was in full alarm, she also noticed the fire she had started had been reignited, and was fully blazing and strong!

“What do you want from me? And for the love of... “

She noticed that the reason she had the flannel on was for her own modesty, because underneath the flannel she was as naked as she was brought into the world.

“ Why am I naked? ”

Bucky noticed her panic as he approached the camp again. He’d gone out to get some more firewood and clay to dress her wounds. He wasn't expecting for her to be so recovered.

“I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to startle you! I'm here to help.”

He put his arms up, to show her he wasn’t a threat, dropping the contest of his arms to the ground! “I was just getting us some more fire, and you need something for your wound... it doesn’t look good!” he fixed his hair back with one of his free hands, a nervous habit he had kept since childhood.

She furrowed her brow, and took a swing of the branch startling him and forcing him to step back. ” I bet you would you know what wound need tending to?” She replied with a cocky attitude! She imagined he would’ve had to look at her body while he took her clothes off, but the realization that her body was not in display contrition made her blush for a moment.

Ignoring the heat rising to her cheeks, and the small pit of embarrassment in the pit of her stomach. She put on a brave face! As he got closer her body reacted to his presence.

He was tall! Always had been, but despite the fact she’s grown since he last saw her, he still sported a good foot above her. She lowered her stance and let go of her makeshift weapon.

Taking a step back, she tripped, and stumbled back. Bucky tried catching her, but before he could he lost his own footing and tackled her body to the ground.

There she was!

Looking like a goddess underneath him, in a flannel, with her little confused doe eyes! She didn’t even try to fight him off. They just stared at each other's eyes, for a small eternity that what theirs to have.

They could both see their changing features, the fire’s light shone on Bucky to reveal his dark black hair. There were messy strays surrounding his face, but the rest was neatly tucked behind his ears. Stubble framed his face, and his jaw was the jaw of a man. It was also an awkward time to notice how much muscle he’d gained in the last 10 years. His body was solid on top of her, even through his shirt, his body told his story! He was a man of work! His body was that of a man who did hard labor, a man who was outside for long periods of time. Which was something she could tell as she noticed the tan in his upper neck had begun fading as the weather grew colder.

His muscles responded to her stare in ways she couldn’t pinpoint!

He on the other hand noticed her delicate face, the way she had grown into her childhood innocence and beauty. Her frame was so small and breakable compared to him. He for a moment thought he could easily crush her, and tried to ease his weight to make it lighter on her.

Her hair was gorgeously long! It surrounded her like a halo, fit for her like an angel. And her eyes where large and expressive. He could’ve read those eyes a million ways years ago, but now! He couldn’t help but wonder what they were trying to say.

He couldn’t stop himself as the word slipped from his lips.

“Doll!”

He placed his knee between her legs and pushed on the palm of his hands in an effort to lift his body weight off of her.

“Don’t call me that! Haven’t heard that in a long time”... she wiggled under his body and pushed him off her “ that name used to be special to me”

She tried to stand up, but a dizzy spell forced her to remain seated on the ground. Looking at his hurt expression a few more seconds that she wanted to.

“ I really missed you!” Her eyes filled with tears that threatened to roll down her cheek as she tried to stare forward, but he would still read her pained face. “ When you caught me. I thought I was dying! ..and you weren't real”

“ Im sorry! Im so sorry! I shouldn’t have left you just like that!”

He sat down next to her frame, he noticed how her body was shivering, even close to the fire. Her smell was spiking up. He knew that once morning came he’d have to rush her to Steve as soon as possible! But for now, he just wanted to enjoy her! Just enjoy her own smell one last time.

“I never stopped thinking about you!” He lowered his face to the palms of his hands. It was there when she noticed. One of his hands wasn't quite his. It was a lusterly metal, but it still radiated his energy, and warmth.

“I'm sorry too! I shouldn't have interrupted whatever it is you guys do in the village...” she was guarded! Her body tensed up as she talked, a knife in her words ” a lowlife like me getting lost... that’s what it took for you to care again” the tears began to fall, a combination of her hormones, and now shock!

Her body was changing and she couldn’t do anything about it, and now the ghost of her former best friend was back. She didn’t know how to process. She was stronger than this! Why was her body dissolving her to her nature?

Bucky wanted to embrace her! To say so many things, but nothing felt like enough to him.

“Listen now it’s not the time for... ” as he stood up he heard her let out a pain filled grunt. Her hand reached out to grab his thigh, as she doubled over to the ground in pain.

He quickly reacted to her pain, and kneeled down next to where she now laid doubled over on the cold moist ground.

“No, no ,no , no listen to me doll... you have to pull through!” He positioned his body as comfortably as he could for her “ I can’t help you... I’m not supposed to...”

He’d made a mistake! He’d coated her in his smell from the moment he held her in his arms. Her body was screaming for an alpha and it was only going to get worse till an alpha helps her body respond to it’s needs.

From the little life she had a few minutes ago, this little omega at his feet was shaking, and frail!

“I’m sorry, doll…” he looked around in distress “please just stay with me! We have to make it till morning! Please just look at me...tell me you’re alright! “ he cradled her small body and held her close to him.

As a strong wave of her scent hit his nostrils, and a small seizure overcame her body.

Bucky knew what he had to do!

But he wanted to make sure he had well enough exhausted all of his options. It would be selfish of him not to admit he wanted to help her.

“ Bucky... am I gonna die? ” she looked up at him with pained eyes, she was suffering! He used his shirt to wipe down the trails of blood exiting her nose. He wanted to help her so badly! She was nuzzled up against his body, shivering and looking more lifeless by the moment.

Her body was rejecting her omega change!

Bucky knew the fever wasn’t a good sign! But with the seizures that were now overtaking her body every few minutes, it was confirmed to him that she was moments away from collapsing upon herself. An alpha made an omega stronger! It was in their nature!

She needed an alpha !

As he held her in the heart of the forest, illuminated by the light of the moonlight, he could see the teardrops of red leave her eyes. Tears the color of fire!

And when the moon was above then at its brightest, Bucky looked up at the sky, and then down at her “Im sorry doll! I'm about to let you down one more time... I hope you can forgive me one day” as he exposed her neck to him, her untouched mating gland on full display to him.He carefully extracted his canines, and like a soft kiss, he bit her!

He knew Steve wasn’t going to be happy, and quite frankly he was even more scared of her finding out he’d taken away her choice!

Tag list: @austynparksandpizza @nerdgirljen @exposition-belongs-somewhere @connie326 @patzammit @blessedwedgie

[emelywrites]

Hey love I hope you are safe💞 I am in love with platonic Sirius Black x (lesbian) reader fan fics where Sirius helps reader to get the girl they are in love with and him being the best boy friend every lesbian wants to stand up for them when ppl talks shit. I don't know if I helped you or you find this lame. Anyway I love your writing and I hope you have a beautiful day❤🧡💛💚💙💜

Hi! Thanks so much. I hope I can do your request justice, because this is so sweet. When I came out as bi, my parents started telling me that it’s just a phase and I just needed to find the right guy. I just want everyone to know that this is a safe space for everyone and I hope that I didn’t completely misrepresent you in this story, so please enjoy! 🏳️‍🌈

Warnings: Language, bad parents, insecurities, angst, slight heteronormative behavior

Best Friends

Sirius and you had known each other since birth. You were both from prestigious pureblood families and your mothers were obsessed with the idea that you would get married one day and have all these perfect pureblood babies. Just before the beginning of your first year you started spending less time with your family, which, consequently, led to you spending less time with the Black-family and therefore Sirius as well. Truth was, you didn’t quite like the concepts of world that you grew up with and even though Sirius was your best friend you were distancing yourself from him, in fear that he was fully indulged in his family’s ideals. 

When you entered the Great Hall, you did so on your own. You saw Sirius but he didn’t see you because he had found new friends on the train. And frankly, it had been you who had ignored him for months before. Sirius’ name was called before yours and you wouldn’t look up at him until you heard the hat sorting him into „GRYFFINDOR“. You looked at him and saw the grin spreading on his face. Sirius, your best friend whom you had been to scared to tell your very anti-Slytherin thoughts, was a Gryffindor. Not a Slytherin. You had heard the gasps from everyone in the hall, including your own, when Sirius Black was sorted into bloodtraitor-Gryffindor-House. 

Then it was finally your turn (you weren’t awaiting it, whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to be comfortable). You slowly ascended the stairs, coming to a stop in front of Professor McGonagall who gave you a sympathetic smile when she saw your nervousness. You felt small ease wash over you when she did. The hat was placed on your head when you sat down.

„Y/N Y/L/N, you’re not much of a Slytherin, dear. Your family’s gonna be pissed but you’re without a doubt a GRYFFINDOR!“

Your eyes widened in shock as another round of gasps went through the hall. But when you looked to the Gryffindor table, seeing Sirius cheering the loudest of them all, overpowering the shock, a wide smile spread on your face and you immediately went to him and hugged him. Sirius introduced you to his friends and again, you were as inseparable as ever. Even more so, because now, the cards were on the table. You were on the same page against pureblood-mania and stood through all the bullying and disgracing from your families together.

After you had just gotten close to Sirius again you fell apart a bit again during fifth year. Sirius had become a proper ladies-man. Being one of the oldest boys in the year, and, even you couldn’t deny it, quite a handsome one as well, he had all of the girls running after him. All except you. You were more into the girls that were running after your best friend. But of course you couldn’t tell anyone, especially Sirius, because he didn’t miss a chance to flirt with them.

„Mate“, James said to Sirius one evening in the common room when you weren’t there, „(Y/N)’s like really into you.“

Sirius laughed. „I beg your pardon? (Y/N) can’t be into me.“

„Why not?“, Peter chimed in, „She’s been avoiding you since you’ve been getting all the girls.“

„Exactly. She’s jealous“, James agreed.

„Pretty sure that’s not it“, Remus didn’t even look up from his book to throw in his thought.

„Yeah, (Y/N) and I are like best friends, all friendships have dry patches that doesn’t mean she’s into me“, Sirius thought out loud, „Besides, us being a couple would probably make our parents happy, cause pureblood babies, you know? That wouldn’t fit with the vibe.“

James and Peter looked at him with an „If you say so“-look that prompted Sirius to investigate. One Hogsmeade weekend he took you to the Three Broomsticks. You sat drinking your butterbeers as you were explaining the recent Charms-task to him. You did so rather unenthusiastically which made Sirius believe his friends may have been right. You always used to be excited to be going over Charms-work, especially because you were happy it meant he studied for once.

„(Y/N)“, you looked up at him when he called your name, „Do you have a crush on me?“

Your eyes widened in shock and as they did, his mimicked that. Oh god, he was right. Then you started laughing.

„Merlin, no. No offense, you’re not really my type“, you said through laughter.

„Oh, thank Merlin! That could have ruined our friendship“, he laughed along.

When your laughter died down you spoke up again. „Sorry, I’ve been distanced. I assume this was James’ idea?“, Sirius nodded, „We both know he’s not really good at reading girls. Exhibit A“, you pointed at the corner of the room, where Lily Evans was sitting as James was talking to her, not noticing her obvious disinterest.

Sirius laughed shortly before he answered. „But then, why have you been distanced?“

„I was jealous. All those girls running after you. Some of them, like, super hot and intelligent, dumbing themselves down to appeal to you. And last week you- Last week you were flirting with Maya.“

Sirius threw you a confused glance. He didn’t quite keep up with all the girls he flirted with. There were quite a few. You rolled your eyes.

„She’s a Ravenclaw. We have potions and transfiguration with them. You know, the only two classes where you don’t have all my attention? We’ve been spending a lot of time together, studying and talking and all. I’m-,“ you hesitated, „I have a crush on her.“

Sirius’ eyes widened in realization and when he didn’t answer for about two minutes, tears started collecting in your eyes and you started gathering your things.

„I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you, just don’t tell-,“

„No, wait“, he caught your wrist and stood up, then he gathered you into a hug, „I’m so happy for you. I mean, proud, I mean, I’m overcome with emotion. Fucking hell, that girl wasn’t into me at all. I’ll gladly be your wingman.“

He grinned at you and you started smiling, too, your tears now flowing out of joy. „Are you serious?“

„Have been, all my life, love. Now let’s get you a date“, he put money on the table before he pulled you out of the Three Broomsticks.

Over the next few weeks Sirius did his best to find out whether you had a chance with Maya and once he was completely sure about it he pushed you into asking her out. Literally. Before Transfiguration class you both spotted her in her usual seat. When she saw you she smiled and waved. You were quite nervous to say the least. Sirius sensed that and took your shoulders from behind, pushing you to sit next to her.

„Maya, (Y/N); (Y/N), Maya, I see you’ve met. You two are, like, really into each other. Sorry for assuming you’re straight, Maya. Accept my best friend as an apology, treat her well“, Sirius patted both your shoulders, before heading off towards the other marauders.

„They grow up so fast“, he sighed, hand over his heart, looking at you proudly.

„So, she wasn’t into you?“, Peter asked.

„Told you so“, Remus answered, before Sirius could.

The word of you and Maya dating spread quickly, with same-sex-couples being rare, even in Hogwarts, and Sirius pointing at you both whenever you did something couple-y, smiling like a proud dad. So with everyone at school knowing it wasn’t long until the word spread to your parents. So one day you received a howler. It immediately sprung open.

„(Y/N) (Y/L/N), we won’t even dare call you that anymore. You are a disgrace, and here we were, thinking you couldn’t get any worse“, your mother’s voice yelled at you, „Get over that phase of yours and then maybe we’ll allow you back into the house“, the letter went up into flames as you stared into space where it had just been floating before you.

„Right so! She deserves much better than being a (Y/L/N). Who’d wanna be one of them? How dare they call you that?“, Sirius immediately spoke up, „Remus, give me parchment and a quill!“

„Sirius, you- you really shouldn’t. It’s just gonna get worse. I’ll just get right back into the closet for the rest of their lives“, you said quietly.

But Sirius wouldn’t have any of it. He wrote a long letter to your parents that you didn’t catch a glimpse of and then you didn’t see him for two days. When you did finally see him he had a smile on his face.

„You and I are moving in“, he said proudly.

„Pardon?“, you asked, looking up from your notes.

„I had some long conversations with Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore and they agree that our homes aren’t safe any longer. The day I let you get back in the closet is the day Merlin shaves, (Y/N). You should be allowed to be yourself, wherever that may be. That’s mostly gonna be Hogwarts for now, but I’ll be damned if you can’t be yourself after graduation. So, if your parents won’t accept you for who you are, screw them. They’d have to see you and Maya. I mean, relationship goals…“

As Sirius went on yet another monologue of naming all the things wonderful about you and your girlfriend, tears started stinging in your eyes. Sirius really was the best friend you could have asked for.

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Aella Teresi AGE & BIRTH DATE. Unknown & 3000+ GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Dryad OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Anya Chalotra

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: murder, death ) Greek history remembers her as an Amazon. Aella, follower of Queen Hippolyta, famed warrior who wielded a labrys with precision. The truth is a bit more shrouded than that. While it’s true that she did live and fight amongst the Amazons, Aella was created by the hands of Gaia. It was the age of titans, when tree of purple flowers sprung up through the earth, and from it emerged a woman of matching eyes fresh into the world. She was a healer, tasked as a caretaker of the world, both human and plants alike. With curious eyes, she watched as the world grew, and the birth of the Olympians that would one day dominate the skies. 

Her first companion came in the form of Artemis. The goddess had come to the mountains none too far from Aella’s tree to hunt with her bow, and it was in such a land that the two met. It was she who taught the dryad how to hunt, the way to send an arrow through the sky with a marksman’s precision, though Aella was quick to realize her preference for a weapon in hand to swing. As the world of men grew, it was to the mountains that she would retreat to find Artemis, to watch the young deity grow through her girlhood into the fierce goddess she would become, and even made company of her brother Apollo from time to time. It was a life away from the mortal world, ignoring Gaia’s instruction to look after man, but Aella never found fault in it. Young and naïve, she was content to remain in such a place forever. 

But eventually, the world of humanity did come knocking. It was Otrera who found Aella’s tree first. A lover of Ares, and worshiper of Artemis, she was a warrior woman like the dryad had never seen of mortals before. It was an admiration that soon bloomed into friendship, as the goddess’s visits had begun to grow more and more infrequent, and Aella desired new companionship in the form of someone she similarly respected. Otrera intended to create a new society of women, dedicated to the worship of Artemis and the art of battle, who would live separate from the rest of the world of men. She had been the first queen of the Amazons, and it was to her that Aella gifted the wood of her tree. With unbreakable weapons and the fierce nature of the women who wielded them, it was not long before the Amazons grew into warriors of legend.

It was with them that Aella felt most at home. Their city had been built around the dryad’s tree, keeping it’s existence a secret from the world of man, lest they try to attempt to take it for themselves. Though she had been there from their creation, it was not until Hippolyta’s reign that Aella’s name became associated with the Amazons. Legend would mistake her as just another warrior, one of Queen Hippolyta’s retinue, and neither she nor the Amazons disputed the matter otherwise. In the misdirection, Aella and her tree were protected. But the same could not be said for all of the Amazons. 

The arrival of Heracles signaled the beginning of the end for this happy way of life, though Aella had not known it at the time. For the task of his ninth labor, he had been sent to obtain the girdle of Hippolyta. Her queen had gone to meet with him aboard his ship, while the other women were bid to wait ashore. But the whispers of Hera, disguised as a warrior, came to send the Amazons into a frenzy. It was her words that told them the hero intended to kidnap their queen, and so the women began to rush the ship. Alcippe was the first to fall to Heracles’s blade, before chaos completely overran the ship. Aella survived long enough to witness the fall of Hippolyta, to swing her mighty labrys at the head of the son of Zeus, before he cut her down as well. But her story did not end there.

Because Aella was not an Amazon, but a dryad, her death was merely a pause. When she awoke again, she was within her tree fully healed, though days had gone by since the battle. In the end, twelve of the Amazons had died, including the queen that she had loved so much and fought to protect. It was the event that began to turn Aella’s heart hard towards the world of humanity, but men in particular. It was her first true encounter of their gender, aside from the god Apollo she had met in her early life, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. The Amazons were the only family she knew, and to lose any had been as painful as the cut from Heracles’s blade. Outsider men were not to be trusted, and in Aella’s opinion, any so fool enough as to approach their city should be killed upon sight, before they could inflict any harm upon the women within.

But the loss of the women she considered her sisters was not a one time tragedy. As war came time and time again, the Amazons would leave their sanctuary to heed it’s call, and less of them would come back each time. On the journeys that were not too far from her tree, Aella would accompany them, but the times she found herself left behind were the most unbearable. There was nothing she could do to protect them, save arm them with the best weapons possible to take into battle. But each time one less Amazon returned, it was a stab of mourning to the dryad’s core, like wounds that had been carved into her skin. 

It was during such a time in which the end came for Aella. She doesn’t really remember it, other than simply waiting for the current Queen and her retinue. Few Amazons had been left in their city, and so Aella spent her days inside of her tree. She had been tired more recently, her magic weakening, though for reasons she did not fully understand at the time. Until one day, she simply did not wake up. It was the overthrow of the Titans that meant the dryads had lost their foothold in the world, one that they would not gain again for thousands of years, until the actions of powerful beings playing at god would bring them back. 

When she awoke in the world once more, it was not the same as the one Aella had left. Her home was no more, but more than that, she was gone from it completely. Instead of the center of the Amazonian temple where it once resided, she now found herself within the city of Corinth Bay. It was a great puzzlement to the dryad, who had no true understanding of what had happened in the time between her slumber. The Amazons were gone, she knew that much — time had stolen them away, until she no longer heard their voices around her tree, left to silence for a long time before the sound of man returned. But even so, she had never realized she had been cut away. Her tree had been taken to axe, prized for the beautiful purple flowers it bloomed without the mortals even realizing the power it held. 

While what was left of the original tree had been left to little more than a stump in the wake of their greedy cuts, Aella survived within one of the branches taken away by an earth witch. She was carried to a new land, protected by the magic the witch had placed to ensure the branch would not die, then replanted and grown in a place she had never seen before. To the unknowing world, Aella was little more than pretty decoration, violet blooms to admire every springtime. And until the veil fell, and was subsequently repaired, that was where she stayed. 

But now she has reemerged into the world, a slow wakeup from her long sleep to find that nothing is familiar anymore. The gods have fallen nearly silent, their worship diminished to little more than mere folklore by most. It is not a world that she likes, nor understands, but Aella has no desire to return to such a slumber again. To be left helpless inside of her tree as everyone and everything she loved faded away had been agony, and one she does not intend to endure once again. The wars of men and gods mean little to her anymore, only that she and the other dryads remain protected and safe in this new city. 

PERSONALITY

+ honest, cooperative, decisive - blunt, reckless, resentful

PLAYED BY ABBY. CDT. She/Her.

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

The One Where Harry Realizes He’s in Love with You & it Just So Happens to be his Birthday

A.N. I’m pretty sure this is the longest one I’ve written yet.

Word Count: 5.7k

-

The anticipation of today has been lingering in your mind for the past few weeks since it had been  mentioned. Since meeting Harry at Target that one night which has led to constant hangouts since he’s been home, you’ve gotten the chance to meet a few of his friends, but not everyone. It started off with just the two of you getting together for the first few weeks at your apartment or even his and watching movies or making dinners. He even tried helping you with homework here and there when he knew you were struggling, but that just led to you trying to teach him the material you were learning and him just distracting you. When it was just the two of you, it was like your own personal secret that no one else knew about and it was fun. But one day he invited some of his bandmates and his personal friends over and they were just kind of sprung on you. Everyone was shocked to meet you, apparently Harry kept talking about this college girl he was hanging out with but no one believed him until they met you. Everyone was super welcoming and easy to get along with. The only time problems slightly arose was when a new fling decided to come along and they didn’t really appreciate the friendship that you and Harry have. Harry would often invite them over while the two of you hung out or he would constantly be texting you while he was out with his leading lady just checking up on you. But none of that matters because you two were best friends, meeting someone and linking up together with such a bond in such a short time was extraordinary and it’s not going anywhere. 

Fast forward to tonight, Harry decided to host an event for his birthday and invite a bunch of his friends, famous people, family and decided to invite you too. Since being friends with Harry this is the first time that he’s invited you to such a large social gathering event. It probably mostly has to do with the fact that he’s been in hiding and not wanting to be bothered since writing his new album but part of your insecure wanderings go to the possibility that you’re just not good enough for all those famous people. Of course Harry cherishes your close knit friendship but what will happen when there are an abundance of people in front of him? Will he still choose to talk to you? Will he still want to acknowledge you as his best friend even though he’s stated it to you many times in the past few months? 

Waking up this Saturday morning was easy. You were able to finish the remaining of your homework that was due Monday morning, along with work that is due later on in the week because you knew this was going to be a big weekend and you didn’t want any guilt of school overcoming any excitement or insecurities. All you had to do before the night was clean up your apartment a bit and get some wash done so when you come home later on, your apartment will be spotless. 

Just as you make your way to your small kitchen area, your phone starts buzzing a few times and the once dark screen illuminates with a bunch of bubbles. When you look down at your phone, you had a few messages for your mother checking up on you and seeing if you’d be busy this weekend, but most of them were from Harry. 

“ Hey Bubs, looking forward to seeing ya lat’r. I’m sending ya a driver to pick ya up, yeah?” Let me know what time you’ll be ready.” read the first bubble. 

“ Dress to impress Bubs. No sweats and t-shirts allowed”

“ Wear what ya want actually”

Harry’s messages brought a smile to your face, but you’ve also realized that he’s never actually seen you dolled up. Since you both practically house hop between each other’s home, you’ve never put too much effort into your appearance. Most days your hair was laid naturally in its natural waves and some light make-up applied onto your face and a clean pair of jeans or leggings and a t-shirt or sweater but nothing more, nothing less. This thought sparks an idea in your mind, you actually do have to dress to impress. These famous people don’t just shop and dress anywhere, so the effort must be made. But before you do that, your apartment must be cleaned up.

-

After a quick two hours pass by your apartment is practically spotless. Your apartment has been swept, vacuumed, mopped and dusted. All your plates and dishware have been washed and been put away. Your throw blanks have been washed and fluffed back to their normal clean selves. Your make-up vanity has been yet again organized and cleaned up and the only thing left standing between you and a perfectly clean house are the clothes in the dryer and your bed sheets in the washer. Since the items have just been placed in the washer and dryer you decide to in fact go to the local mall and shop around to find the perfect outfit for tonight. You’re not one to get all dressed and glammed but the occasion calls for it and you want to prove that you’re important to Harry’s life just like everyone else at the party. You take a quick glance in the mirror by your apartment door before heading out and you for sure look like you’ve been cleaning and working up a sweat. Your hair looks a bit messy but it’s nothing a bun and glasses can fix.

-

After about an hour and a half you decide on buying two different dresses. The one is a champagne rose colored body con dress that hits about two inches above your knees. It was full of sparkles and had a full scoop neck that stopped at the top brim of your chest. The dress was full length sleeved which was a plus since it’s the midst of winter, but even so the party venue had an indoor and outdoor feature. This was almost too daring for your liking, but it made a statement and a statement is what you wanted. The second dress was a bit closer to your comfort level, it was a black body con dress, spaghetti strapped at the top and hit right at the knees. You weren’t exactly ashamed of your curves, but you didn’t like being the center of attention either, but again why would you be? There are going to beautiful people at this party and you’re just average looking. You have a pair of open toed nude heels at home that will fit perfectly paired with either dress which saves you some money. You look back down at your phone and it clearly reads 2:34 P.M. which relieves you because you thought it was a lot later. You look back at your messages and realize you never responded back to Harry.

“ Don’t worry, I’ll be dressed to impress. I’m excited to see you later!” you slide your phone back into your purse and make your way towards the exit of the mall. Thankfully, no one really knows about you and Harry’s friendship yet so normal tasks haven’t been affected yet in your life and sometimes you wonder if it will ever get to the point. You’ve been in a few pictures with Harry before, but he’s never really tagged you into them and he says it’s more so to protect your privacy and so you can continue your college career in peace. 

When you make your way outside, the weather isn’t too crisp which makes you hopeful that later on tonight won’t be too unbearable in either dress. There hasn’t been much of a wind chill these past few days which makes this past school week a bit more enjoyable and walking in between classes hasn’t been too bad. Walking between campus always led to short phone calls with Harry about how the previous class had gone and what you had left within your day. Before Harry, you didn’t have too much going on. Yeah, you had a few close friends and that’s all you really needed but you never had a friend like Harry. Harry was kind and cared about how your day was going, never cared about how you looked or judged you for the lack of wealth you had. He just saw you as one of his best friends and wanted you to know that. Harry’s friendship meant a lot to you which is why you wanted to make such an effort in showing up tonight. When he first mentioned to you that he was having this grand birthday bash you were a bit nervous to commit because no one really knew about you, and you’d just be another girl attending his party. You felt a bit intimidated but he assured you if you felt uncomfortable he’d get you a ride home or you could ride back to his place and wait for him to come back. You’d obviously prefer to go back to your best friends home because it almost felt a bit more homey than your own but it’s Harry’s birthday and you’re almost positive that he’d be taking someone home that night and you weren’t really thrilled with the thought of your best friend shagging in his room while the guest bedroom where you’d be staying would be down the hall. You didn’t want to ruin anything for him or make it awkward for anyone. 

-

By the time you make it home it’s a little after 3 o’clock and you still had about 2 hours left to start getting ready. As soon as you got home you laid the two dress options on top of your vanity chair and made sure to take out your clothes from the dryer and place your bedding into the dryer. Your biggest pet peeve is a bare bed and hated how it looked. 

With the spare time you have you decide on ordering in some food and do a hair and face mask. You didn’t expect to have so much extra time but you don’t exactly want to start getting by now either. Harry’s party wasn’t starting until 9 o’clock and he instructed you to be ready by 9 so his driver could pick you up from your apartment. He knew you were nervous and knew you didn’t want to be one of the few that arrived first. Having a good set of people already established at the party would distract from your awkward entrance and will help you surpass having eyes on you. You aren’t exactly shy, but more so intimidated by the amount of people. 

The more and more you thought about it, the more you were leaning towards the golden ansambal that you picked out just a bit ago. It fits the occasion but you just have to convince yourself to go through with it. Your thoughts are interrupted by the ring of your doorbell and excitement fills your body, you’re pizza has arrived. 

-

The time has come to start getting ready and your stomach is in absolute knots. You’ve only exfoliated and shaved the same spot on your leg for the past two minutes because your mind has gone elsewhere. Your hot shower definitely calmed some of your nerves down and relaxed your body. The strong aroma of vanilla fills your whole bathroom, Harry swears it’s the best smelling body wash in the world. You’ve even noticed one of your new never opened  bottles went missing about a week ago and you’re almost certain it’s in his shower right now. You shave your body for another five minutes just to be extra sure that you didn’t miss any spots even though you didn’t, it’s the anxiety talking. 

The getting ready process was a fun one. You rarely get dressed up anymore or even get ready period, but you remember this used to be one of the most therapeutic times of your day back in high school before you went out to the house parties. Music fills your apartment and the aroma of your fresh scented candle is the cherry on top. You decided and made your mind up and you’re going with the golden champagne dress. Your hair is perfectly curled in loose waves allowing your hair to bounce all the way down your back. Your grown out ombre highlights your artificial tan that you applied on last night. With the cold weather outside and little to no sunlight outside, some color was needed on your body. Your artificial tan emulates your end of the summer tan and it was perfect for this dress. You decide on a bit of sparkly nude eye and slightly over lined pinky nude lips. You're quite impressed with your skills and how even after a long time of not doing your make-up so intricately, you still remember all the skills you learned on youtube from years ago.

Slipping on this dress after eating pizza was not much of a confidence booster but after a pair of spanx you looked brand spankin new. Your hips and thighs hug the dress in all the right places. Your breasts slightly pushed up with the tightness of the dress but you felt beautiful. You almost want to curse at Harry for giving you such confidence tonight but you were happy. Sliding on your nude heels and grabbing some of your essential belongings, you look down at your phone and it reads 8:47 P.M. and Harry’s driver was on his way to pick you up. To ease your nerves you make your way into your kitchen attentively and pull out your half gone bottle of vodka and take a shot. The shot of liquor burning the back of your throat and warms up as it slides down. The familiar sting brings back many high school summer memories that you shoved in the back of your mind. You check your appearance multiple times in the mirror and decide to add a few extra spritz of hairspray just to make sure that it wouldn’t move because not only did this take effort but it looked good.

Your phone buzzed signalling that Harry’s driver was downstairs waiting for you and you were very glad that the vodka slightly kicked in. The drive to the venue was about 30 minutes from your apartment and the conversation between you and the driver was going well. He’s the same one that Harry always sends to you if you or he can’t drive so he’s almost become one of your friends. He knew about you and Harry’s friendship but he swore to you that you two would be getting married and a slight part of you wished that were true but you two are just friends, right? 

As you slowly approach up to the venue it’s magically perfect. The modern yet rustic looking building is the venue that Harry chose and it screams Harry. The outside is very discrete, however, the architecture alone is phenomenal. You thank your friend for dropping you off and before entering you fix the hem of your dress, take a deep breath and make your way inside. The inside of the venue is decorated elegantly with lights, balloons and streamers. You began to notice a few famously familiar faces and you try to keep your head down with the exception of a few smiles while passing by a crowd or gently bumping into someone. Every food you could possibly think of was around the whole room, you almost regret eating a few hours ago now because all of this food looks a lot more appetizing than your corner store pizza. You haven’t spotted Harry yet and you’re hoping he’s not in a corner snogging with some model. You see a small swarm of people gathered outside and you decide to inspect. The outside is even more divine than the inside you would say. The brisk cool air hits your exposed skin, but the view was phenomenal. The outdoor rooftop overlooked most of the city beneath you and the distant lights gave the rooftop a nice ambiance. The string lights were hung to perfection and the outside bar was showcased with beautiful lights. While scanning your surroundings your eyes meet with the person you were looking for.

He was surrounded by his usual close knit crowd with the exception of a few people you didn’t recognize. He was dressed in a similar suit to his Dunkirk premiere and a crisp button up white shirt was peaking through his suit jacket. A smile was encapsulated on his face when he saw you but shortly after he was in a trance. You walked over confidently but noticed his facial expression change. 

Little did you know that he was mesmerized by your cleaned up put together look. He knew you were beautiful, but he never realized how beautiful you were until your perfectly heat styled curls bounced around your shoulders and down your back. He never noticed the way your hips swayed when you walked until they were  on display, the way the top of your breasts peeked out through the top of your dress or the way your eyes glistened under the hanging lights. If Harry didn’t know any better he was getting slightly stiff under his trousers and that’s never happened when you’ve been around. He was ashamed that he felt this way, you’re his best friend and he shouldn’t be feeling this way.

When you make your way to the group, Harry pushes through his two friends to make way for you. He pulls you in for an embrace and he smells exactly how you knew. The scent is very familiar to you and you would even call it his signature scent. Your heart almost felt like it was about to jump outside of your body and little did you know but so was his. 

“ I’m glad you could make it, Bub,” his voice whispering in your ear sent chills down your body and it wasn’t because it was cold out. Without hesitation Harry takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours and walks back over to where he was previously standing. The cold rings were cold against your warm palms and you’re almost thankful for that. Harry introduces you to those who you aren’t familiar with and the chit chat continues from before you walked over. Every few seconds or so Harry would run his fingers over your knuckles almost signaling to you that everything’s going fine. Your worries from before are shortly washed away by the comfort of Harry. Harry’s never really held your hand like this before, let alone in public. You noticed a few glances by Harry here and there and you almost wanted to blush. You noticed his eye’s glistening and if you didn’t know any better Harry was tipsy. Your thoughts were interrupted by the tugs on your hand. Harry interrupts your thoughts and leans into your ear, “ Would ya like a drink? You look like ya need one” to which you oblige by and follow his steps. The both of you of course had to stop every few seconds as everyone had to talk to the birthday boy. You were quite taken back though, everytime someone stopped Harry he was introducing you to just about everyone. You hate being the center of attention but this wasn’t too bad. 

There’s a short line at the bar when you and Harry approach it, about 4-5 people ahead of us. Taking in your surroundings, you notice all the beautiful people here. The women were gorgeous, some in floor length dresses, some in mini dressed and some practically look naked. Harry hasn’t really let go of your hand yet and still draws circles onto the back of your palm, you take a quick glance down at your intertwined fingers and crack a smile. 

“What’s making you so smiley?” your eyes quickly shoot up to Harry and he has the same smile on his face that you had just a few seconds ago. “ You’ve never really held my hand like this before” you bluntly state out. Harry doesn’t let go, but takes a quick pause, “ Well.. I knew ya a bit nervous so I thought, you know, I’d help calm the nerves before you get some drink in your system” Harry looks back straight up and starts a conversation with someone that’s come up next to him. You’ve never seen or ever heard Harry mention his name but from the sound of it he’s someone from the music business. Eventually you guys make it up to the front of the bar and you both order your drink of choice, however, Harry was pulled away by a different group and he politely excused himself. You were left alone once again, you didn’t expect to constantly be attached at Harry hip since it is his party but it would have helped if you knew someone else that was left alone. You see a seating area that is close to the balcony of the rooftop and decide to go take a seat.

You almost feel so out of place but everyone’s practically tipsy or drunk so you don’t even think it matters anymore. A few girls sit in the surrounding seats, all of them have the same leading lady look that Harry goes for. You recognize 2 of them from past relationships of Harrys. None of his relationships ever end on bad terms, but they do eventually end. They all have the perfectly slim bodies and their long legs on display and sitting around them you feel like a frump. You weren’t nearly as tall or slim, they were nice girls, even included you in the conversation but you still had Harry on your mind. 

After a few rounds of drinks your body began loosening up and somehow ended up on the dance floor with the other girls. You were never one to do this when you were sober but you thought what the hell? Your hips swaying to the beat of the music and your mind wasn’t on Harry anymore, to be quite honest you forgot you were even thinking about your best friend’s whereabouts a half an hour ago. You were just focused on the music and dancing with whoever was around. 

For the past 45 minutes Harry’s been catching up with some old friends, and some new producers and whoever was around. He hasn’t spotted his best friend in quite a bit and he was getting worried, he walked through some of the crowds of people that were clumped together and socializing. While walking passed the dance floor he spots you instantly. Your gold sparkly dress illuminating bright on the dance floor, your hips swaying to the beat and your hair flowing back and forth. Harry was happy that you were having fun, socializing with different people and to his surprise you were even dancing with some of his past flings which he thought was funny because after each break up you always brought him a list of everything that was wrong with the girl. Harry thought you looked angelic, you looked carefree and genuinely enjoying yourself. Harry was absolutely mesmerized by you and he couldn’t understand why it took him so long to realize it. You’re what he’s been looking for but never realized he had it until now. You’re generous and kind; never complain about anything even when your world comes crashing down. You’re patient; even when he has a million and one questions about the simplest things you always have patience with him. You treat him like a normal person; his wealth doesn’t impress you and you treat him like a normal human being. Most girls would be head over heels for him just because of his job and his status but that’s the furthest from the truth when it comes to you. You’re honest and genuine and hard working and he’s always admired all these things about you but never realized you’re what he wanted or ever needed. 

Once the song ends, you spot your best friend and make your way over to him. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or Harry but he was glowing. He’s standing right near one of the outdoor lights and he was practically glowing, his suit jacket has been taken off and his tattoos are peeking out under his button up shirt. His hair pushed up and off to the side the way that you preferred on him. His white pearly smile signaling that he’s spotted your existence and he knows you’re heading his way. 

“ Having fun out there, Bubs? Never knew you were one to dance” his tattoos are even more visible up close and his cologne is still lingering on his body.

“ I guess get a couple drinks in me and I’ll do anything” a small bubbly hiccup escapes your pink glossy lips followed by a smile plastered along your face. You knew you were drunk, Harry knows you’re drunk and you know that Harry knows. 

“ How many did ya have?” He takes you by the hand and leads you over to the two person sofa that was all the way in the corner. He begs that you stay still and that you don’t move. You watch Harry walk over to the bar and grab two drinks. He comes back over to you and hands you a glass full of water. You never knew how much you actually needed this. 

“ I see yeh having fun and socializing, Bubs. Make new friends I see, yeh betta not replace me” It felt like Harry was staring into your soul with that pearly white smile and those emerald green eyes. Your best friend was undeniably beautiful and you’ve told him many times before but you don’t think he ever seriously believed you. 

“ Harr, you know I could never replace you. You’re too perfect” you took another sip of water and slightly prolonged it so maybe he could say something next. Your eyes grazed the scenery in front of you and everyone looked like they were in their own little world. The party didn’t seem as busy, it was obvious a few people had left while you were out socializing on your own and dancing. 

“ We haven’t sung you happy birthday yet, Harr. We have to do that before your parties over” you look back at your best friend, he had a questionable look on his face, almost as if he didn’t want all these people to sing Happy Birthday to him but you imposed it. You take your best friend's hand into yours and try dragging him up.  

-

A bit passed since everyone that came out sang happy birthday to Harry. Some of his band mates squished cake into his face and a few more drinks have been washed down by everyone. As quick as you sobered up was as quick as you got drunk again. Only a few of Harry’s friends remain and almost all of the alcohol has run out and the time on your phone reads 12:36 AM. The venue was practically cleaned up and the last of the group was heading out. You, Harry and the rest were waiting downstairs by the door while the last of his friends have just been picked up. You feel a little dizzy and your knees have gone weak, leaning on the wall behind you is the only thing supporting you standing up at this point. Harry has visibly sobered up, but you’re still long gone. A few hiccups escape your bare lips as the lipgloss has finally worn off even after applying it over and over again all night. 

“ You think I could get dropped off at my apartment on your way home?” no talk of where you would be sleeping tonight has come up yet. You didn’t want to ask just in case Harry had planned a sleepover with one of his leading ladies and to be honest you’d rather not know. Harry’s white button up is practically ruined from the cake that had been smashed into him, his hair still has some remaining pieces of icing but it’s for sure melted in. 

“ I’m taking you home with me, I’m not gonna leave yeh home alone while you’re drunk, Bubs” his offer made you warm inside and wanted. You didn’t expect the night to end like this but you’re kind of glad it did. Letting loose wasn’t so bad after all. 

-

It was a quiet ride back to Harry’s house, the soft noise of the radio playing some tunes and the dark scenery outside almost made it calming. The serene trees almost floating as we drive by, the wind can be heard from outside. Harry looked sleepy across from you, but even so he never let him off of your knee. 

Harry’s house was warm and smelled like home, he took your advice and placed some air fresheners throughout his house and would often light some candles on. Once further into his home he turned on all the necessary lights and made his way into the kitchen to grab both of you a bottle of water and some snacks. You followed him upstairs, down the long hallway and into his bedroom, where you waited for him to grab you a change of clothes. While you waited you sat down in the sofa chair off into the corner of his large master bedroom and kicked your heels off of your feet. These shoes are gorgeous but such a pain to wear, your feet obviously a bit swollen and red and the ability to stretch and crack your toes is everything right now. Harry comes back with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants to put on. 

“ Do you need help getting changed?” a smirk was appearing on Harry’s face and you know it’s because you look like an absolute mess right now. You can feel your frizzy hair poking through and some of your make-up has worn off. All you do is nod and Harry helps you up and you follow him into his master bathroom. When you first walk in you take in your appearance and it’s not as bad as you thought but it’s for sure a downgrade from what you were looking like just a few hours ago. Harry helps unzip the back of your dress for you and holds open his t-shirt so you could slide it on. This is only one of the 100 times Harry’s helped you get changed or undressed because this isn’t your first time getting wasted infront of him. 

“ I can’t believe you didn’t let me know I looked this bad” you're sliding your spanks off and pulling on Harry’s sweatpants while you keep talking, “ you’re supposed to let me know when I start looking bad, you know.” by the time you’re done with your statement you’re walking out of his bathroom and making your way to the spare bedroom where you usually sleep when you’re staying at Harry’s house if you two aren’t camped out in his living room. 

“ Why don’t yeh sleep in here tonight with me? I can go grab some snacks from downstairs and eat the rest of my birthday cake” he knows you can’t resist snacks or cake, he knows he won your heart to stay. A smile encapsulates your face as you mutter out an “okay” while making it back into his bedroom. “ Just make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back” You’ve never really laid in Harry’s bed before, sure you’ve sat down or lounged while watching a movie but never slept in his bed, especially with him. A few minutes go by and Harry’s back with two bowls filled with cake, some snacks and more waters. 

“ Made yeh self comfy I see” You didn’t realize it till now but Harry had also changed into more comfortable attire and washed some of the icing out of his hair. “ I never realized how comfortable your bed really was until now” you patted the space next to you signaling Harry to sit down while you took over his TV already and decided to put on a movie you both have seen a million times. Harry sat down beside you in his bed and followed suite after you and pulled the covers back and wedged himself in there. Your feet are almost touching underneath the covers and for some reason this has you feeling anxious. 

“ Back to what you were saying earlier, I didn’t bother telling you how you looked because I genuinely still thought you looked perfect” Harry forks a piece of cake from his bowl and into his mouth. “ Y’know, yeh really quite gorgeous, Bubs. I just don’t think you see it, but yeh really are.” of all the things Harry’s ever said to you this was on the top 3 nicest things. Your best friend complimenting you sent chills down your spine but you pushed them away, he’s probably just saying it to make you feel better.

Little did you know however, today was the day that Harry realized he was in love with you and he didn’t want to spend another day without you being his. He didn’t want to ask you yet, wanted to make it a bit more obvious but the thought of you ever not being around again makes a pit in his stomach and he tries to push it away. You’re his sun and his moon and he wants you for the good, the bad and even the ugly. He’s holding back every urge within him to lean in and just kiss that sweet lips of yours that have icing all over them. The day he decides to tell you, the both of you are going to look back and laugh at this very moment.

[soobiniebaby]

Angels & Devils Part XVI : Time’s Up

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

Yeonjun’s night wasn’t going so well.

All he wanted was to take his girlfriend to one of the biggest school dances of the year, to pick her up from apartment and have his breath taken away but how undoubtedly gorgeous she’d look, to hold her hand in the backseat of his car and maybe toast with a glass of white wine as his driver takes them to the dance, to take silly and sweet photographs as they enter the venue, to watch every guy’s drop as he walks in with her drop-dead gorgeous self into the hall, to hold her close and whisper sweet nothings in her ear while they slow dance under the twinkling lights and fall petals floating down, and to make it a night they’ll never forget as they make their way back to her place after the dance for their own private “afterparty.”

Yet, he found himself in a throng of kids around his age who he knew would be able to live as lavishly and extravagantly as they wanted to without having to work a single day in their lives, striving to make dull conversations about who threw the latest reckless parties and who hooked up with who and who did this that and so on and so forth. For a “business” party, and it was less on networking and more on gossiping and hooking up for these kids. When his father sprung his mandatory attendance at this event, Yeonjun had initially thought of asking B to come with him so that they’d at least be able to spend the evening together, whether it be at the Fall Ball or not, and he knew that her presence would make it so much more bearable. But as soon as he heard who was hosting the event, he knew inviting B would be a bad idea. Because the event was being hosted by none other than Kim Jisoo, successor to the biggest Technology Firm in the country.

And Yeonjun was quick to learn that wherever Kim Jisoo went, Park Rose was sure to follow.

And right on cue, he spots her.

Her long red hair fell down her shoulders like a velvet curtain, her figure flaunted by the blue slip dress that hung off her body elegantly. She spots him at the same time and gives him a wave. Again, he feels as if he were transported 2 years back to the past, feeling tongue-tied and breathless in her presence. He shakes it off before waving back to her, and she makes his way towards him.

“Hey babe, I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” Rose says, instinctively leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“It’s a party hosted by Kim Jisoo, so my father forced me to come tonight. And I’m not your babe.” he says, though he makes no move to avoid her kiss on his cheek.

“Sorry, I guess it feels a bit weird seeing you again after we’ve broken up. It’s a habit, I guess.” she says, giggling. “Did you come here alone tonight? No friends? Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, my friends and girlfriend are actually at MO Academy for the Fall Ball. I’m actually gonna ditch this party as soon as I can then head on over to the school dance, but don’t tell Jisoo cause she might not let me go so easily.” he says, taking a sip out of the champagne in his glass.

“Ah, the Fall Ball. I remember how beautiful the last one was. Remember, they covered the whole dance floor with autumn leaves? Then I sprained my ankle when that song by Twice came on and I couldn’t help but dance along.” Rose laughs, fondly remembering the evening. “A swollen ankle wasn’t enough to spoil our little afterparty at The Eastwood though.” she says, referring to the hotel they had booked that night and the hours they spent tangled in the sheets.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be even better this year since the guys and I are the student council leaders now.” Yeonjun says, brushing off her comments about the past.

Rose pouts. “Come on, lighten up Junnie! No need to pretend that you and I are strangers. We’re friends, right?”

Yeonjun raises a brow. “Yeah, sure, friends.” It was something he never thought of Rose as, but given their situation, it felt like an appropriate label. “As a friend, do you want to go around and do that thing we used to do at lame parties like these?” he says, another memory of them popping up.

Rose giggles, remembering how they used to go around the party, pick a couple or group to watch, and make up dialogue for them. It was a fun and entertaining way to get it through a night like this, surrounded by shallow and stuck up trust fund kids. “Ah, now that’s what a friend at a party like this is for.” she says, her eyes quickly scanning the room before landing on a group of people. “Okay, look over there, let’s call the man Mr. Bass, and let’s say he’s got his arm wrapped around his girlfriend yet he’s so obviously flirting with their companion Mr. Archibald…”

The rest of Yeonjun’s time at the party was spent that way, with him and Rose going around the room, people-watching, dialogue-making, story-telling, sipping on Chardonnay and laughing together just like the good old days. The best dialogue they made up was one between Rose’s own friend group, Jisoo, Jennie and Lisa, wherein the pair of them made up a story about how Jisoo and Lisa were trying to outshine each other for Jennie’s affection.

“Wow, Rose, I have to admit that when I stepped foot into this place, I never would have thought I’d actually have fun tonight.” Yeonjun says after they sneak away in a fit of giggles. “Our dialogues tonight weren’t the best, but I’ve gotta say, the one with Lisa, Jennie and Jisoo was genius. Is there any truth to it, or is it purely fiction?”

“Well I made up the scenario, but honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if a bit of it ended up being true.” Rose says, nursing the wine glass in her hand. “I have to say, I thought tonight would be just another night of me glued to the same 3 girls I’ve been stuck with the past year, so thank you. I had fun with you tonight.”

Yeonjun smiles at her. “Speaking of Jisoo, do you think it would be safe for me to leave now? The dance will be ending in about an hour, and I’d really like to catch at least a bit of it before the night ends.”

“Oh, you can’t just slip out cause that might get you on her bad side. You have to come and say goodbye to her, but don’t worry, I’ve got a fullproof plan to ensure that she’ll let you go.” Rose says, giving him a smile before taking a sip of wine.

“Follow my lead.” Rose whispers to Yeonjun, linking their arms together before approaching Jisoo, Jennie and Lisa.

“Hey girls, where have you been all night? I feel like I haven’t seen you around.” Rose says, greeting the 3.

“We could say the same about you. I was starting to worry about you, I feel like I haven’t seen you all night!” Jisoo exclaims, before her eyes settle on the man Rose had on her arm. “But I guess I had no reason to worry after all, looks like you found yourself some company.” she says, smiling knowingly at the pair. “Hello Yeonjun, I’m glad to see you were able to make it to my party tonight.”

“It’s my pleasure, Jisoo.” Yeonjun says politely. “I really had fun.”

“Yes, tonight was fun, but I hope you don’t mind if I leave and take Junnie here with me?” Rose says, giving a pout. “I think I’ve had a little too much to drink and I’m not feeling well. Yeonjun has offered to drive me home.”

Yeonjun subtly raises a brow at her, but she throws him a quick wink.

“Oh no, are you okay? You look like you should lie down.” Lisa says, her brows furrowed with concern.

“Don’t worry about her, ladies. I’d be glad to give her a ride home and make sure she’s okay.” Yeonjun says, quickly catching on to Rose’s plan.

“Oh, Yeonjun dear, thank you so much!” Jisoo squeals, quickly leaning forward and giving him a peck on the cheek. “You’re such a darling. Thank you for looking out for our dear Rose.”

“No problem at all.” Yeonjun says. “We’ll be on our way now, I think Rose really needs to lie down.” he says to Rose, who dramatically puts a hand over her forehead.

“Yes, I think I really do. Thanks again, Yeonjun. Girls, I’ll see you all soon. And Jisoo, I’m sorry I have to leave early, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” she says, batting her eyelashes at the girls.

Jisoo waves a hand in the air. “Nonsense, your presence here tonight was more than enough. You too, Yeonjun! Thank you for coming tonight.”

The pair waves at the 3 girls one more time before they walk away, snickering and giggling.

“Wow, that was genius. Thanks, Rose.” Yeonjun says. “I guess I’m free to go now. Do you, uh, do you really feel sick? Do you want me to give you a ride home?”

Rose laughs. “Am I that good of an actress? No, I feel perfectly fine, that was just an excuse so Jisoo would let us go. But I wouldn’t mind a ride home, thanks.” she says, smiling at him sweetly. “I mean, you owe me now so it’s only fair that I get a free ride home.”

Yeonjun shakes his head, smiling as he pulls out his phone and texts his driver to pick him up at the front entrance. “Alright, let’s go then.”

Yeonjun had to admit that his evening wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to escape from the party, but here he was in his car with his driver driving away from it. He was dreading having to see his ex again, but he was pleasantly surprised by how her company had made the night tolerable, or fun even. The ride to her house wasn’t a very long one seeing as she lived in the same neighborhood as Jisoo did, but the whole time was spent with the 2 of them laughing and reminiscing, just like the good old days.

“Ah, here we are.” Rose says as the car stops in front of her house. “Junnie, I just wanted to say thank you for tonight.”

Yeonjun smiles at her as his driver gets out of the car and opens the door open for her. “No problem, Rose. I had fun too, thanks to you.”

Rose gives him a smile back, and before he knew it, she was leaning in and he was closing his eyes as her lips met his, melding together like 2 pieces of a puzzle. She tries to deepen the kiss by tangling her hands in his hair, but he pulls away, drawn back to the present-day reality.

“Rose, sorry, I can’t do this. I’m in love with someone else.” he says, his lips stinging as the guilt starts to hit him. “And I’m leaving to go meet up with her right now. Look, I had fun tonight, but like you said, we’re friends. Nothing more.”

Rose sighs, retracting her hands from his shoulders. She sits up, straightening out her dress before she says “Friends. Right, thanks again for tonight Junnie.”

As she stands up and exits the car, she takes one look back at him. “Whoever you love now, I hope they know how lucky they are. But I also hope you know that I don’t think you and I will ever be just friends, and tonight was proof of that. I’ll always love you, Junnie.” she says, giving him a small wave before she walks away, slamming the car door shut behind her.

Yeonjun watches her walk up to the front door, wanting to make sure that she’d make it into her house safely. Once she was out of his sight, he lets out a deep breath, one he didn’t realize he was holding in his chest. He leans back against the car seat, running a hand through his hair. His night wasn’t going the way he thought it would, but hopefully meeting B at the Fall Ball would set things back on track.

Or so he thought.

•°•

He wasn’t expecting the pang of jealousy that hit him when he finally saw B at the Fall Ball.

She was right when she said that his jaw would drop when he saw her dress. She looked breathtaking, and he smiled to himself when he noticed that her blue dress matched his blue hair perfectly. But when he noticed that she was on the dance floor with her face buried in some other guy’s chest and this guy’s hands around her waist, he felt his blood boil.

How dare someone else hold his girlfriend like that.

But as they sway to the music and they shift their positions, Yeonjun finds himself surprised when he finally gets a look at the guy’s face.

It was Soobin. Yeonjun should’ve known by the way he towered over B, and because of the fact that he had asked Soobin to step in for him until he could make it to the dance, but the feeling of seeing him hold B that way shocked Yeonjun.

He felt betrayed.

He trusted Soobin enough to know that he would never make a move on his girlfriend behind his back, but he couldn’t deny the sparks he saw whenever Soobin and B were together. All the way back from the first day of school when Soobin caught her from falling down the front steps of MO Academy, to Hueningkai’s birthday party when Yeonjun was people-watching and he noticed how Soobin had his eyes fixed on B the whole night, to the night of his birthday party when he noticed how flustered Soobin got when he had to kiss B, to tonight when he saw how intimate Soobin and B looked locked in each other arms on the dance floor.

He knew he wasn’t the best boyfriend, especially given the fact that he had kissed his ex girlfriend a total of 2 times now behind his current girlfriend’s back, but he couldn’t help the jealousy that was starting to pound into his ears. He knew that B got jealous too, and maybe she had good reason to given his history with Rose, but those were both mistakes. Those kisses weren’t his fault, and it was only normal for him to feel a little jealous too, seeing her with another guy.

Before he knew what he was doing, his feet were guiding him towards the pair on the dance floor and he finds himself tapping Soobin on the shoulder.

He sees a flash of something in Soobin’s face when he turns and sees Yeonjun standing there, but he ignores it. Instead, he smiles and says “Excuse me, but may I interrupt?”

B’s head snaps out of Soobin’s chest then, her eyes meeting his now, wide with surprise.

“Yeonjun! Y—you’re here.” she exclaims, jumping out of Soobin’s arms and towards Yeonjun.

He smiles at her endearingly. “Hey, Baby. I made it right on time.”

He watches as her eyes shift between him and Soobin before she smiles and gives Yeonjun a hug. He engulfs her in his arms, kissing the top of her head, his nose scrunching up when he realizes that her smell was tainted with hints of baby powder and vanilla. Soobin’s scent.

Soobin gives him a pat on the back then. “Glad you could make it. Cleaned up pretty nicely, too.” Yeonjun smirks. Of course he made sure to look his best. He had an extra shirt, tie and coat tucked away in his car and he changed on the way to MO Academy.

“Are you flirting with me?” he says jokingly. “Thanks for taking care of my Baby for tonight, Soob.” he says, purposely wrapping an arm around B’s shoulders and pulling her to his side.

“Don’t mention it. You 2 enjoy the rest of the night now, I’ll see you back at the table.” Soobin says, flashing a warm smile before he retreats, turning his back to them.

Yeonjun nods at him and watches as he walks away, but before he can get very far, B suddenly takes a step forward and reaches for his arm.

“Soobin, wait.” she says, causing both of the boys to freeze. Yeonjun stares at her hand clutched onto the ends of Soobin’s sleeve as Soobin looks back at her.

“Yes, B?” he asks tentatively. Cautiously.

B’s silent for a moment, and although her back was turned to Yeonjun, he could tell that she was struggling to say whatever it was she wanted to.

“I just wanted to say, um, thank you. For tonight.” she finally says, and Yeonjun feels a pang of guilt in his chest as he recalls how Rose had sad the exact same thing to him earlier that night before they shared a kiss.

“No problem, B. The pleasure was all mine.” Soobin says, smiling warmly at B and giving Yeonjun a small nod before turns and disappears into the crowd.

As Soobin walks away, Yeonjun wraps his arms around B’s waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, mildly disturbed to once again catch a whiff of baby powder and vanilla. He leans in close, close enough so that his lips would brush against her ear as he whispers “You wanna dance, Baby?”

She turns to face him, a bright smile on her face. “I’d love to.” she says.

Yeonjun grins, subtly rubbing his face in the crook of her neck, hoping that some of his scent would rub off on her skin to get rid of Soobin’s smell, before he grabs her hand and spins her around on the dance floor, causing her to squeal and giggle.

Back at table 21, Soobin watches as B lays her head on Yeonjun’s chest, her hands laid on his shoulders as his arms circled around his waist, and he tries to put himself in Yeonjun’s place, which he was in up until a few moments ago. He watches as the 2 of them slowly move to the rhythm of the mellow music, and he watches as Yeonjun plants a gentle kiss on B’s forehead as the song ends, until a new one starts and they start dancing again.

And again.

And again.

He watches until Taehyun finally announces that the Jazzed club had already performed their final song for the night, and that the DJ will be accepting song requests.

He watches until Taehyun, Beomgyu and Kai finally get off stage and join him at their table, Yuna eventually joining them too, taking her place beside Kai.

“Soobin?” Taehyun asks, noticing how spaced out Soobin looked.

“Hm?” he responds, his eyes still absentmindedly watching the couples still dancing in the ballroom, or at least, on one couple in particular.

“Are you okay?” Taehyun asks, nudging him until Soobin’s eyes meet his.

Soobin forces a smile. “I’m good, yeah.” he says, leaving Taehyun unconvinced.

Taehyun takes a quick look around their table, making sure that Kai and Yuna wouldn’t hear him, before he leans in a bit closer and says “I saw you dancing with B earlier, and it looked like things were going well. What happened? Where is she?”

Soobin hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip before he tries to subtly tilt his head in the direction of the dance floor. Taehyun follows the direction, confused at first, until he spots a familiar head of blue hair in the crowd and the girl he had his arms around.

“Ah.” Taehyun quietly says, looking back at Soobin with a regretful look in his eyes. He gently pats his hand over his on the table. “So he came.”

Soobin smiles at him again, a little more genuine this time. “Yes, and I’m glad he did. Look how happy she is now that he’s here.”

“Mm-hm, I mean she looked pretty happy when I spotted you 2 on the dance floor earlier, but if it means anything, at least Yeonjun kept his promise. I was worried he wouldn’t make it, knowing how strict his dad is when it comes to business endeavors.” Taehyun says. “When did he get here?”

“Um, about 30 minutes ago?” Soobin says, trying to count the number of times he watched Yeonjun kiss the top of B’s head with every song that ended. “They’ve been dancing since he got here.”

Taehyun raises a brow. “Well, we all know how much Yeonjun loves to dance. I’m sure they’ll stop by the table to rest for a bit though. Are you sure you wanna be sitting here for the rest of the night? You could ask someone to dance with you, or go for some refreshments.” Taehyun offers. “Gyu and I will just resting for a bit before we hit the dance floor.”

“Yeah, my date’s been too busy dealing with last minute crisises all evening, we haven’t danced to a single song.” Beomgyu suddenly butts in, whining.

“It’s crises, not crisises.” Taehyun corrects him, grimacing yet inwardly wondering how he ended up falling for someone who could make such an adorably simple grammatical error. “And I promise we’ll dance soon. I’m just checking on Soobin.”

“Oh no, please, go ahead and dance. You guys should enjoy your evening.” Soobin says, feeling embarrassed now. “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll be heading out and making rounds in a bit to check if everything is going smoothly anyway.”

“You heard him, c’mon Tyun, Soobin’s a big boy who can handle himself perfectly fine.” Beomgyu says, tugging on his date’s arm.

Taehyun looks around the table, noticing that Kai and Yuna had already left and were probably somewhere on the dance floor. He gives Soobin one last look before he sighs. “Alright, whatever you say. But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know, okay? I’m here for you.” he says, gently squeezing Soobin’s shoulder before letting himself be dragged away by a very persistent Beomgyu.

Soobin watches as Beomgyu drags him right to the middle of the dance floor, the crowd magically parting to let them through. All eyes seem to be following them as Beomgyu flamboyantly wave an arm in the air before holding his hand out to Taehyun, who rolls eyes before taking his hand, letting out a squeal in surprise as Beomgyu suddenly twirls him around before pulling him towards him, the 2 boys chest to chest with Beomgyu’s hands on Taehyun’s waist as they start to sway to the music.

“Wow, look at that. Who knew Gyu and Tyun would be so freaking adorable together?” B says, watching in awe as all eyes lock on the 2 boys in the middle of the dance floor.

“I have to admit, they are pretty cute together.” Yeonjun says, leaning down to whisper in B’s ear. “But I think we’re cuter.”

She giggles as his breath tickles her neck. “Oh, hush. Look at them! They look amazing together.” she says, and right on cue she sees Beomgyu say something in Taehyun’s ear and the younger boy rolls his eyes but then suddenly smiles at the former, unable to stop himself. “They’re definitely cuter than us.”

“Stop saying that, we’re adorable!” Yeonjun huffs. “I even ducked out of that stupid business party and rushed over here just so I could see you tonight.” he pouts playfully. “If that’s not adorable, then I don’t know what that is.”

“Sweet, that’s what it is.” B says, reaching up to cup his face in her hand. “The sweetest, actually. Thanks for being here, Junnie. It means a lot to me.”

He smiles easily, his cheeks warming up as she looks up at him. “It’s my pleasure. Anything for you, Baby.” he says, pulling her closer. “Because I love you.”

Now it was her turn to have her cheeks heat up. She lets out an awkward laugh, flustered. “Thanks again.” she says, not sure if she was ready to tell him she loved him back yet. “How was your evening, by the way? Was the party boring? Are you tired?” she asks, wanting to change the topic.

He laughs, knowing she was shy. “Ah, it wasn’t much of a party. It was more like a gathering of boring rich people trying to out-talk each other about who’s richer and who’s business is doing better and whatnot. It was physically and mentally draining to be there, but I feel so much better now that I’m here with you.” he says, as smooth as ever.

B raises a brow. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” she says. “My feet are starting to kill me in these heels. Do you think we can take a little break and sit at the table?”

Yeonjun nods, easily accepting her suggestion. “Whatever you want, Baby.” he says, leading her away from the dance floor and back to table 21, surprised to see that it was empty.

“Wow, I guess all the guys are busy with their dates.” Yeonjun says, sitting down after pulling a chair for B. “I wonder if Soobin has found someone to keep him company tonight, too.”

B’s eyes search the crowd, spotting their friends one by one, save for the said boy. “Ah, if Soobin’s not at the table he’s either getting some refreshments or dealing with behind the scenes stuff to check if things are running smoothly.”

“How are you so sure he’s not dancing with anyone?” Yeonjun asks, raising a brow.

“I’ve been trying to convince him to ask a girl to dance all night, but I guess he’s just taking his duty as Student Council President too seriously to relax and enjoy himself.” B says, shaking her head.

“That sounds like Soobin.” Yeonjun says, taking a quick peek at his phone before setting it down on the table. “Speaking of refreshments, want anything? I could get you a drink or maybe some snacks?” he offers.

B nods. “Oh, yes please! I mean, I knew you love to dance, but I don’t think I can keep up. I need to rehydrate before I step foot on the dance floor again.”

Yeonjun laughs. “My body’s used to it from all the hours I’ve spent training and practicing.” he says. “Okay, you sit tight and I’ll be right back with a couple of drinks, alright?” he says, planting a quick peck on her forehead before making his way to the refreshments table on the other side of the event hall.

B takes the time alone to marvel at the evening, from the beauty of the event hall to the performances by the Jazzed club to Yeonjun appearing right on time. She crosses her legs under the table, absentmindedly tapping her foot to the beat of the music, counting the number of couples dancing past their table, until she feels a buzz on the table and hears the ring of a message alert tone.

Her eyes instinctively move towards the direction of the sound, moving down leading towards Yeonjun’s phone on the table.

Upon seeing what the notification was for, she wishes that she didn’t follow her instincts.

She feels her entire body go cold, her eyes repeatedly reading the message until the screen goes black, the words etched in her mind. Surely, there must have been some mistake. Maybe she just was just seeing things. Before she can convince herself that her eyes must’ve been playing tricks on her, Yeonjun’s phone rings, the screen lighting up with a new message, the messages displayed on his lock screen clear as day.

Before she could fully stomach what she was seeing, Yeonjun returns to the table with 2 wine glasses in hand, taking his seat next to her. He was saying something about how he spotted a few couples getting a little too intimate on the dance floor, but his voice just sounded garbled to her. All she could do at the moment was try to absorb and make sense of what she saw and figure what she would do about it.

Yeonjun grabs her hand on the table then, snapping her out of her thoughts as he notices that she hadn’t been paying attention to a word he was saying. He turns her palm face up and lightly traces along the lines and creases, knowing how much she liked it when he did that.

“Baby? You okay?” he asks, concern plastered on his face.

She wanted to say ‘Yeah, it’s nothing’ or maybe something like ‘No, but let’s talk about it later.’ But before she could collect her thoughts and compose herself, her mouth spoke out the words without her consent.

“Were you with Rose tonight?”

Yeonjun freezes, his hand going still over hers, and her heart sinks as she realizes that it was true.

“Why would you think that, Baby?” he asks carefully, and her heart sinks further, lurching somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

“Yeonjun. Were you with her tonight, and did you give her a ride home?” she asks, and when he doesn’t respond, she continues. “You left your phone face up on the table when you left to get drinks. And while you were away, the screen lit up with a text message from her. I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I never had any reason to doubt you or feel the need to worry about you hiding anything from me. Until now, that is. All I did was look down and I saw it without even meaning to, so if you were gonna hide it from me, you should have tried harder. Heck, it’s like you didn’t even try to hide it at all.”

“Baby, no—” he begins, but B’s eyes widen as another thought comes into her mind and she interrupts him, the words pouring out of her mouth as the thoughts enter her mind.

“Oh god, you didn’t even try, did you? You were with her and you didn’t even try to hide it. Is it cause you wanted me to find out? Is this your way of saying that you don’t wanna be with me anymore? Is this your messed up way of letting me know that you’ve been seeing her and maybe you didn’t know how to tell me so you leave your phone here on purpose so I’ll see it and get the hint?”

“It’s not like that.” Yeonjun says, his eyes trying hard to relay what he was feeling.

“I get it. You wanted to be with her tonight so you go to that stupid business party but then come here to break things off with me? Or heck, maybe you wanted to get lucky with me tonight before breaking things off with me to be with her, is that it? That’s what Choi Yeonjun does, love ‘em and leave ‘em, right?” she says, her tone becoming less shocked and confused and more frantic and spiteful.

Yeonjun looks at her, the hurt in his eyes apparent in his face. She was spiraling, the thoughts swirling around in her head growing more twisted and mixed up the more she thought about it, but she couldn’t help it. Her thoughts were coming out unbidden, as if her mind was flooded and her mouth was a stream just letting it all out

“Baby, Baby please, listen to me. Let’s go outside, someplace quiet.” Yeonjun says, standing up and begging her with his eyes to follow him. “Baby please, come on.” he pleads, lightly tugging on her hand.

She takes a deep breath and nods almost mechanically, standing up and following his lead. As he guides her through the crowded event hall and out into the hallway, he keeps looking back at her to see if she was still following, but whenever his eyes met hers, it felt like she wasn’t even there. They pass by Soobin on their way out, speaking to the security team at the entrance about the guest list and the tickets. When Soobin catches sight of Yeonjun looking tense and B following behind him, he’s confused. When his eyes meet Yeonjun’s, they’re full of nothing but concern, but Yeonjun just shakes his head at him without stopping.

He only stops when they reach the parking lot, the sound of music playing from the event hall almost inaudible outside in the chill of the night. As a gust of cold wind blows between them, he attempts to offer her his coat to keep her warm, but she holds her hand up, unbothered by the cold.

“Yeonjun. I need you to tell me what’s going on right now, because I swear, I’m going out of my mind trying to comprehend what I saw.” B says, her voice oddly calm and detached.

Yeonjun takes a deep breath before he begins, saying a little prayer that things would go well. “Okay, yes, I was with Rose tonight. The business party I attended was hosted by Kim Jisoo, and if my birthday party was any indication, where Kim Jisoo is, Rose naturally would be there too.” Yeonjun admits. “I wanted to invite you to come to the party with me, but I knew how excited you were for the Fall Ball and I didn’t want to ruin your night by forcing you to come to this stupid party with my ex present, so I thought it would be better if I simply stopped by the party for a bit and then spend the rest of my night here with you.”

“So is that supposed to make me feel better? And what makes you so sure I would’ve preferred going to the dance without you over going to some stupid party with you?” B asks, her frustration growing. “Why did you make that decision for me? And if you felt so forced to attend this stupid party, why did you have to spend the evening with her? Why did she feel the need to text you then? Were you hanging out with her the whole time? Did you even try to keep your distance from her after I’ve told you how uncomfortable I feel about you with her?”

“Baby, that’s not fair, I was just—”

“You know what’s not fair? You attending a party knowing fully well that your ex would be there. No, wait, I know your attendance at the party and the attendance of your ex at the party is something beyond your control, but Yeonjun, you could’ve at least told me about it! You could’ve given me a heads up, you could’ve simply let me know instead of doing it behind my back.”

“Baby, the only reason I didn’t tell you is because I didn’t want to ruin your night and I didn’t want you to feel bad. I was just trying to protect you!” Yeonjun says, his voice raising slightly when hers did.

B looks at him incredulously. “Wow, protect me? By lying to me? Yeonjun, I’d rather live with the hard cold shitty truth than live in blissful ignorance with a lie. And can you honestly say that the only reason you hid this from me was to protect me? There’s no other reason why you didn’t tell me?”

Yeonjun hesitates, only for a moment, but seeing it made B flinch. Over the course of their relationship, there were a few things that she had taken notice of about Choi Yeonjun. When he was excited about something, his voice would go a few octaves higher. When he was nervous about something, he would bounce on the balls of his feet nonstop. And when he was lying about something? He would take a deep breath and his eyes would fall to the ground, which is exactly what he did just now.

Upon seeing her flinch, Yeonjun starts to panic, feeling a sense of alarm, as if he could either make or break the situation depending on how the next few moments play out, as if there were a ticking time bomb and he only had a few minutes to defuse it before it exploded.

“Baby, look, Rose means nothing to me. Seeing her tonight was just a chore, and I only hung around her cause my father wants me to stay on Kim Jisoo’s good side, and you know she and Rose are close friends—” he reaches for her, hoping that his touch would break down her walls, but she steps away from him.

“Okay, let’s just cut the crap. I am willing to let this go, to forget all about this and merrily move on and dance the night away with you if you honestly tell me one thing.” B says.

Yeonjun looks at her hopefully, nodding eagerly. “Yes, yes, alright, what is it?”

B takes a deep breath. “Has anything ever happened between you and Rose since we started dating?”

She watches as the hopeful light in Yeonjun’s eyes dies, his face dropping and his shoulders sagging, and she feels her heart break into a million pieces.

“Thanks. That’s all I needed to know.” she says, her voice cracking as her hands start to shake.

“I’m sorry. Baby, I’m sorry, but I promise, it wasn’t that bad, it was barely even—” he begins again, but she couldn’t handle it anymore. All she could feel was her heart being torn out of her chest and bleeding out on the pavement. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“Yeonjun.”

B could feel the heat behind her eyes, knowing that tears were threatening to fall. She could feel heart pounding out of her chest, her hands shaking as she bunches them into fists at her side, clenching them together to stop herself from falling apart right then and there. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” she continues, knowing that it was true.

“Baby, please, wait.” Yeonjun pleads, taking a step forward and reaching a hand out towards her. She closes her eyes and takes a small step back, keeping the distance between them. He visibly flinches, hurt by her aversion, but he continues to speak. “Please, take 3 deep breaths and try to calm down. Hear me out. Please.”

B keeps her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Yeonjun, no. I can’t do this. I don’t know how I can possibly get past this. I don’t think I could ever let this go.” How did her night go so horribly wrong? She was wearing the most beautiful dress she had ever laid her eyes on, she was having a blast at the Fall Ball, dancing her heart out letting go of all the worries she had, and she had been surrounded by people who she knew loved and cared for her.

So how the hell did she get here?

Yeonjun feels his heart drop. “So what do you want to happen now? What do you want me to do? Tell me anything, and I’ll do it. Baby, I’ll do anything for you. Just please tell me how I can make this right.” he starts, pleading helplessly as he feels her pulling away.

“You want to know what I want to happen?” B asks, gathering up the strength to look him right in his eyes, tears falling down from her own as she says, “I want this to stop. This, us, this evening, this pain, this nightmare, I just want this all to stop. I think the best thing you could do for me now is just let me go, don’t make this hurt any more than it already does. Just let me go.” she says, now pleading as well, tears now spilling uncontrollably down her face. “Yeonjun, please, just let me go.”

“Baby, please, don’t.” Yeonjun says, his voice cracking as what she was saying hits him, knocking the air out of his lungs as his breaths start to come out in sharp gasps, his eyes damp with tears that threatened to fall.

B shakes her head, taking a shaky breath and biting her lip to stop it from quivering. She takes one last look at him looking painfully beautiful with is blue hair blowing in the wind, his soft eyes looking at her like a lost child, his plump lips shaking as he tries not to cry. She takes one last moment to look at the boy she loved before she says

“This is goodbye, Yeonjun. I’m breaking up with you.” •°• Author’s note: Thank you so much for your patience!! The past few weeks have been very hectic. The typhoon that hit my country a few days ago and the 2 days I spent without electricity definitely didn’t help, but alas, here’s chapter 16!! Please let me know what you think, don’t be afraid to leave a message, anonymous or not, cause my asks are open!! I’m still trying to figure out how to make my Tumblr more easy to navigate, but don’t be afraid to reach out to me!! Don’t forget to stream We Lost The Summer MV!!

[unfortunatelysirius]

DATING JAMES POTTER AND BEING SIRIUS BLACK’S SISTER WOULD INCLUDE:

       💟☼💟 S.T.O.R.Y. 💟☼💟

       💟 The two of you met on the train to Hogwarts, and blimey—James was awe-struck by you from the start! Sirius, the overprotective git he was, banned the blokes from putting their slimy, grabby hands anywhere near you, but James had always been compelled. He pegged you as pretty and sweet, with a dazzling personality to match. You were nothing like he was used to, like the sweet girl next door, and your background made you all the more enigmatic. He was drawn to you, unable to stay away.

       💟 First-year was a blur, with Sirius doing all he could to beg James that he wouldn’t corrupt you—and failing ever-so-miserably. You were best friends with the girls in your dorm, Lily, Marlene, and Mary, so you hardly saw your brother, nor his friends. They were a constant presence, as you all shared a House, but your personality clashed with theirs. They were loud and mischievous; you were quiet and soft. Sirius, your darling brother, didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, so he never invited you along. But James—as your admirer—was always pestering, always asking where you were. He was smitten, and by the end of first-year, he felt like he was in love.

       💟 Second-year introduced you to a strange feeling, one you outright refused to tell your brother. Enduring your horrid homelife on top of weird body changes was something you never wanted to be on your agenda. James became smart and handsome, rather than the bespectacled, messy-haired bloke that was your brother’s best friend. It was over the summer, when Sirius would go on and on about him, describing their adventures and how much he’d rather be back at Hogwarts with James, playing pranks and wreaking mayhem—instead of stuck with your witchy bitch of a mother and stoic Frankenstein of a father.

       💟 Sirius had already told you—you weren’t allowed, under any circumstances, to develop feelings for his friends. Sibling-code.

💟 “Promise me you won’t, Y/N.”       “Cross my heart, Sirius.”

💟 The heart is one of the most unpredictable organs. One minute you didn’t care about boys, or James sodding Potter,

then the next he was all you could think about. Coming back to Hogwarts, you were a mess near him, and having his starry gaze follow you every which way—while once a norm—had quickly become nerve-wracking. You felt like you were under surveillance, with your personal own stalker—in both a good and bad way. It made you giddy, but it scared you, too. James never hid his feelings away, as quite the open bloke, so you knew how he felt.

       💟 What would happen if he knew your feelings, too? What would a mutual fancy bring?

       💟 You didn’t like change. You already hated the physical changes, the mental ones—if your wary headspace’s worst fears came to life, they wouldn’t bring beauty; they’d bring a hailstorm. You weren’t ready to face Sirius, nor were you ready to face James. You thought it’d fall into nothingness as the days passed by; you were only twelve, after all.

       💟 Third year brought James kicking mate-code to the dust and letting his wants and desires manifest.

💟 While he never outright confessed, he’d compliment you on the daily. He’d charm you to stay clean and dry in nasty weather; he’d take the fall anytime you got in minor trouble. He’d smile and wink anytime you glanced in his direction, and he would take any chance to show off at Quidditch games.

💟 One time, during a game, he hijacked the microphone from commentator Mary Macdonald and called out, “This goal’s for you, Y/N/N!” He made the goal and blew a kiss for you to catch. You’d never in your life felt so flustered.

       💟 Fourth year was just the same, with the addition of (consensual) physical touches. He’d hold your hand or throw an arm around your shoulder. Sometimes you’d initiate it yourself.

💟 Hogwarts deemed the two a couple, despite Sirius’s obvious ire. It was only made more solid by James’s obsession with you, and your very-unsubtle adoration of him.

💟 Sirius became less and less lenient. By the end of fourth year, he dragged you both into a room and refused to let you leave until you promised to stop up the theatrics of a relationship. But neither of you were willing to let unspoken words be unspoken words. You’d glanced at James, heart breaking, state only worsening when you saw his crestfallen face.

💟 Sirius was angry, and he didn’t want either of you dating. He feared James would break your heart. He didn’t want a break-up to ruin their friendship.

💟 While James was torn between his heart and his head, you’d had just about enough of Sirius playing leader. You stood your ground and you told him, “Sirius, so what if James and I date? It’s none of your sodding business anyway! Just leave us be instead of being a right prick about it!”

💟 You left the boys open-mouthed and speechless. But a moment afterward, regaining confidence from your outburst, James stood his own ground. He sprung to his feet and cupped your face in his hands, declaring, “I bloody love you, Y/N!”

💟 Sirius had no choice but to accept defeat—and he didn’t make an honest peep when the two of you made it official just a day later.

💟 And thus, James Potter and Y/N L/N was finally, finally born—after but a wee bit of troubles conceiving.

💟☼💟 R.E.L.A.T.I.O.N.S.H.I.P.  Q.U.I.R.K.S. 💟☼💟

       💟 James is a mixture of a clingy and ‘funny’ boyfriend. He always wants to be around you, always wants to kiss and hug on you. Yet, he loves playing pranks—and he loves pissing you off. Your angry face is just too cute, and he loves pinching at your cheeks when they puff up all seething-like.

       💟 “That wasn’t funny, James!”                “Y/N, my love, have you not a funny bone in your body? That was hilarious.”

       💟 As Sirius is quite the brooder, you’re staying quiet when he wants to tag along on dates. He pushes himself between the two of you when you’re kissing or trying to be close, as is a trademark for Sirius ‘Cockblocking’ Black, who switches between personas of Matchmaker, Comedian, and Cockblocker on the daily. He begrudgingly lets the two of you keep your couple status, but hey—he’s your brother. Where’s the fun if he isn’t crashing dates and sabotaging physical displays of affection?

       💟 James likes bopping your nose. “Boop!” and all that. And Merlin, does he love giving you pet names.

💟 From “love” to “darling” to “baby doll” to “Mrs. Potter”—he’ll say it all. What sort of restrictions can you have on name-calling when it’s anything but unpleasant?

💟 James is rather unpredictable when it comes to dates. Somedays he’ll want you to come up to his dorm for a lie-in; other days, he’ll require you accompany him on a snowy stroll through the streets of Hogsmeade. You find his chaos endearing, and his excitement in choosing even more so.

       💟 A jealous bloke, James doesn’t like you being around untrustworthy persons by yourself, regardless of gender. Sure, he’s utterly fine when it’s people he knows, but that freckled brunette from Potions? That slimy Slytherin you have as a Transfiguration project partner? Well, he’s got to be near at all times or he’ll have a jolly old stressful time complete with overthinking and frantic hand motions.

       💟 The two of you love listening to music and playing games together. It’s kind of your thing. Whether you’re playing a game of one-on-one Quidditch or dancing to old Muggle tunes, it’s fun to be by yourselves.

       💟 The Marauders are great—your best friends—but sometimes you need time alone, to relish in your position as lovers. And “Hogwarts’ Golden Couple,” courtesy of James’s input.

       💟 Is James crazy? A tad bit.

💟 But man, oh man, do you love him for it.

[likehoneyandsilk]

Alps

Listen as you read.

“How did we end up like this?” His morning voice always sparked a flame in your stomach. Raspy and hoarse, masculine and every word dripping with sleep. Your breath hitches your throat when Mat hovers his body above yours. The chain around his neck dangling, the small pendant resting atop your neck.

An unruly mess of dark brown hair sat atop his head, your fingers tingling to emerge them through the silky strands. His dark eyes stared into your soul, searching you for an answer. You remained quiet, letting his eyes burn into you, allowing him to sigh in defeat. Letting him rest his body atop yours ever so gently, his lips pressed into the crook of your neck. The only thing between the two of you was the thin comforter and his dress shirt from the night before buttoned around your frame.

Hesitantly, your fingers danced through his silky strands. In response, Mat’s hip softly pressed against yours. “Did you feel it to?” His voice was quiet, the words murmured into the soft skin of your neck. You gulped, closing your eyes and choosing not to speak. 

You worried if you did, your voice might break. Like your broken heart. And his.

. . .

When the wedding invitation arrived in the mail a month ago you were not surprised. Julie, Anthony’s fiancé, and one of your closets friends was getting married. You knew Anthony through Mat and had met Julie not long after. You remember your fingers tracing over the cursive glossy writing of Julie’s name, knowing very well your trip to New York wouldn’t be easy. And it hadn’t. But you would do anything for Julie and Anthony.

And now as you sat alone at your table, a half empty glass of sparkling bubbly champagne, you watched your two friends with a tired smile. The newly weds swayed back and forth, lost in their own beautiful little world. They didn’t notice the other wedding guests, all united and swaying to the slow song playing from the record player in the corner of the barn. The barn lights twinkled above all, casting a fairytale glow.

The weekend had been bittersweet. You’d flown in a day before the wedding festivities, your ticket back home booked for tomorrow evening. It was almost surreal seeing all your old friends in Long Island. And it wasn’t easy avoiding a particular someone. Someone you had an extensive history with, gone above and beyond with and called yours.

The past hours had been spent sneaking glances at him, worried he’d catch you. Pretending that it didn’t hurt you to see him again. Portray a strong front that stated “I don’t feel that way about him anymore.” You ignored the flutter in your heart every time he smiled, refused to look in his direction at the sound of his laugh. You pretended not to notice that it wasn’t same as before. Truth was, when you had stepped out of the cab and the first person to open the cabin door had been Mat, you were speechless, tears already brimming in the corners of your eyes, leaving him speechless as well. He knew you would be there, without a doubt, but he hadn’t processed how hard it would be seeing you again. Julie had saved you then, pulling you in for a hug at the sight of you. 

Stealing another glance at him cross the barn, your heart dropped. His dark eyes bore into yours from far, his lips curling into a small smile. A smile that was apologetic. He watched as you blinked a few times, biting your lip and rose suddenly. This was too much.

You waltzed through the tables, blinking back tears furiously. Your chest felt heavy; heart pounding and your mind foggy. Using all your strength to push through the barn doors, you gasped for air at the sight of the moon. Sighing, you settled onto a stack of hay, the Summer night cold settled onto your bare arms and legs.

Your head sprung up as someone pushed through the barn doors. Mat appeared before you, stopping in his tracks. This was the closest he’d been to you since the first day. He didn’t speak, and neither did you. You slowly regained your thoughts. He was here. He was here. He was here. He released the barn door behind him, letting it shut with a thud. Cautiously he made his way next to you, sitting down a few inches away. Your hand resting atop the hay was only a few inches away from his, and your first instinct was the let the tips of your digits touch his.

“Hi” Mat turned his head to look at you, his voice enveloping you in a warmth like it always did. The hair at the back of your neck stood, meeting his eyes again. “Hi” you whispered, letting yourself smile softly, to match his. You were already becoming vulnerable. 

The silence fell over you again. And so you took this time to take the sight of him in. Suited in a navy blue suit, a crisp white dress shirt beneath garnished with a solid black tie. He seemed bigger and broader. His dark hair as soft and silky as before, neatly styled. His lips pink underneath the moonlight.

He let his eyes roam from your face and down. Your long hair, resting to one side of your face, was losing its curls, having been perfectly curled from the morning when he first saw you arrive as a bridesmaid. Your big eyes seemed a little tired, your plump lips as rosy as ever. Julie had chose olive green chiffon dresses for her bridesmaid, and he couldn’t help but notice how absolutely stunning you appeared all night. He would be lying if he hadn’t been trying to get you alone, to speak to you in some way and hear your voice again. You were avoiding him, he knew, but he didn’t blame you.

“How have you been?” The question rested heavily on your shoulders, and your thoughts began to race. The last three months have felt lonelier than ever. When you had moved back to Vancouver you imagined it would feel like it always did. Like home, but truthfully home was where he was. And you’d left him in New York, alone in your tiny apartment, where pictures of your love story hung on the walls, a bitter reminder of what he let slip out of his hands that brutal Sunday morning.

You couldn’t lie to Mat. Never. He knew you inside and out like a book. That was the result of a friendship since you were 9, and the beginning of your love story at the age of 16. You still remembered the smile on his voice when he picked you up for your first ever date. Honesty was your only option.

You felt a lump form in your throat. Focusing your eyes onto the green grass beneath you, your nude glossy heels, with your pink painted toes peeking out. Your arms wrapped around your frame. Why was speaking to someone you had known practically your whole life unexplainably hard right now?

“It hasn’t been easy” the words were heavy, Mat’s heart sinking when he saw you wipe a tear from your eye. He never liked seeing you cry, and it broke him when he was the reason behind your painful tears. “It isn’t easy at all Mat!” you shook your head, returning your eyes to him.

He was broken. His eyes full of regret and his bottom lip jut out slightly. The Summer cold felt like a layer on your skin, the silver stream of light from the moon above you painting you.

“Hasn’t been easy for me either.” It hadn’t and it was evident. You’d heard the stories of how Mat Barzal, star player of the Islanders seemed to be quiet in his game. Less goals in the past few games, even fewer assists. He wasn’t the same Barzal that Long Island knew. He no longer possessed the boisterous laugh, nor the cheeky smile. This Barzal was different. One that was missing a piece of him; that being you.

“Did you see anyone ...” “No, no ... I would never do ...” he shook his head angrily, almost bewildered that you had even possibly asked the question. “I can’t. And I don’t want to.” His eyebrows furrowed, as he turned his head to look straight ahead. His jaw clenched. If you were still together you would hold his hand in yours, and kiss his knuckles, calming him down slowly, murmuring words of encouragement. But he wasn’t yours, and you couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.” Your apology was faint, the heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment and shame. “I shouldn’t have just asked assuming ...” Mat unclenches his jaw, his face softening when his eyes met yours.

“No, no it’s alright. You don’t have to apologize.” His hand rested atop yours suddenly, and you felt electricity surge through your body. He waited for you to pull back, searching for rejection in your eyes . But when you didn’t he let his hand cover your colder one, watching as your cheeks turned pink.

“What happened to us?” It was a question you both had asked yourselves many times. It was a question that haunted you at 3:00 am, a question that popped up in his head during a breakaway with the puck. A question that you asked yourself at the first sound of his name, the question he asked when he walked past the picture of you two at his bedside, one he wasn’t ready to put away.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you held back tears. Mat shuffled next to you, pulling his hand away. Your head snapped in his direction, missing the warmth and familiarity of his hand. He’d removed his coat, placing it around your shoulders. You protested, but he declined, resting his hand back atop yours. “You’re always cold.” He chuckled softly. Moonlight danced across his prominent features, radiating him in his white shirt. 

Suddenly all control was lost. His coat around your shoulders smelt like him, warm, musky and pine. His hand rested atop yours and it felt right. For the first time in three months you felt warm, accompanied and like yourself. This felt like home. And as the tears began to fall from your eyes, and you rose suddenly, he was quick to follow.

“We were so in love we fell apart!” He brought his hands up to rest along your wet cheeks. His thumbs wiping at your tears. “And when we fell apart we couldn’t put the pieces back together. Because it hurt so much …” your voice cracked cutting you off as you stepped closer to him, afraid of what might happen next. Your heavy heart needed to let out the pain, the broken pieces had to be attained, you needed yourself back. You needed closure or reconstruction.

“... we hurt one another so much, we let it all go. All of it.” Your whispered words were barely audible over the music inside the barn. Mat’s own cheeks lined with tears. A sad and somber look on his face. You stared blankly at the ground, catching your breath. His hands dropped, one of them under your chin and the other resting on your side.

“I’ve got you, I’m here now” his voice cracked with every word, in an effort to calm you. Gingerly you allowed your eyes to meet his, your hands shaking as you wiped at his tears. “I’m sorry I gave up on us.” “You weren’t the only one” your voice remorseful. He gently pulled you in, craving the feeling of your body against his. As you leaned into him, your head colliding with his chest, his arms securing around you, your own wrapping around him, his chin resting atop your head, this felt like home.

His thumb rubbed soothing patterns into your hair, murmuring apology after apology. He held you for a while, swaying you back and forth from the music that could be heard on the other side of the door. Your eyes closed in the most peace you had received within yourself, however a pit still in your stomach, knowing very well this could end in many ways.

Pulling yourselves apart Mat still held onto your waist and neck. His eyes searched for validation and consent. “Can I kiss you?” Could he? Should you let him, even though you truly wanted him to? Could a kiss lead to anything more?

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes when he began to lean in, waiting impatiently for his lips to mold against yours. And they did, butterflies erupting in your stomach. Your insides tingled, blood rising and your legs felt wobbly. Your small hands cascaded around his hips, permitting your body to press against his. He was slow and delicate, tasting like champagne and icing. The kiss felt familiar, as it should. It had been the only lips you’d ever kissed. The only lips you’d allow to explore the skin on your body. The only lips that had felt all of you.

“I’m still in love with you. I never stopped.” His lips lingered against yours, his words truthful. His nose brushed against yours, waiting for you to speak. Waiting for you to give your answer, yearning to know what would happen next. You thought you would never hear those words fall from his lips again. But they did. And you were very much in love with him, never stopped nor doubted.

“I love you, I never stopped. I don’t think I ever can.” Your confession was all it took, all that was needed for the two of you to forget what you wanted to. At least for one night you could allow yourselves to merge as one, give your entirety to the other and become vulnerable again as you had now. It wasn’t sure what the morning held or what would be done, but in this moment it was an exploration and rekindling of love. A desperation that was a craving, to be loved, kissed, held, touched, roused and given to and by the one you loved the most. 

You followed him hand in hand towards you tiny cabin. Your hands shook as you  twisted the knob, turning the lights on, letting the smell of wood and leftover coffee roam around you. Mat locked the door behind you, gently sliding the coat down your arms from behind you. Your insides tingled, craving the familiarity of his skin against yours, the sensation of his lips on your skin, and the climatic surge of love he got out of you. Without a word you lead the way upstairs, him following behind. 

Reaching your bedroom you turned to face him. His strong arms placed you atop the vanity, the granite wood cold through the chiffon material of your dress. You relaxed as his lips pressed against yours, his fingers holding your jaw in place. Your nimble fingers worked there way through his tie, proceeding to the buttons of his dress shirt. He was slow and steady, kissing you as if warming you up, devouring the taste of champagne and cherry Chapstick. Lips parted as you pulled back, breathless and tinged rosy cheeks. He leaned into you, your legs tightening around his as you guided the sleeves of his shirt down his arms, exposing the broad and firm frame you knew so well. 

Pulling you off the vanity, he guiding you towards the bed, simultaneously pulling down the zipper of your dress. His lustful eyes bore in yours, a sad smile on his lips before he brushed them atop yours. The back of your knees hit the foot of the bed, and lay you gently below him, revealing the body he knew so well beneath him. Silk sheets raveled you in as his lips began to kiss you lips, and all other parts of your skin, his hips pressing into yours. The Summer rain began outside as the wedding party continued to celebrate. Your small moans and whimpers filled the room, your names slipping out of each others mouths, murmurs of love and apologies brushed past your lips. Mat was gentle, taking time as he merged his body with yours, almost as if you were a feather, and you’d slip away from him before his eyes again. 

. . . 

The rain had continued over night, pattering against your window. You turned to look over at the time, the clock reading 9:15 in the morning. Mat pressed his lips against your neck, his silky strands tickling your skin. “It felt right to me. I felt like myself. It felt like home” he pulled himself off you, laying next to you. He searched your eyes for a reaction, as he poured his heart out to you. You stared at him above, turning on your side. 

“I felt it too.” you confessed, pressing your hand into his cheek. He leaning into your touch, his eyes closing. “Then why do I have bad feeling about what you’re about to say next?” Heart break all over again. He knew you well, he always had and always would, Home was where he was, but somethings were better left untouched. And after today, after this weekend, fear was stronger than any emotion you felt. 

“We’re going to hurt each other. If we fall apart . . . “ your voice cracked, tears slipping through your sleepy eyes. “You don't know that unless we try again!” he was hurt, angry, and broken. “How can you say that if we don't try?” “Mat, I’m scared to. I can't put us through it again, we’ll end up hurting each other.” You pulled away, rushing to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, falling to the ground. Sobbing and hurting. unable to give in. Quickly you unbuttoned your shirt off your body, a piece of you feeling lost as you opened the door softly and let it drop to the ground. The lacey garments adorned in your intimate spots left you cold. 

He lay motionless on the bed, covered in silk sheets that smelt like you, a scent he missed. He was losing you again. You were slipping from his fingers. It was happening all over again. Your quiet sobs compelled him to push through the door and hold you, comfort you and tell you he loved you. But there was not getting through you now, you were long gone. 

He dressed with a heavy heart, not bothering to wipe his own tears. As he approached the bathroom door, reaching for the shirt he paused. “I love you, And I’m going to wait for you. As long as it takes.” your ear pressed against the door on the other side heard him loud and clear. You wanted to say you loved him too, tell him how much he meant to you, but you couldn’t. You needed to let him go. 

And when the front door shut behind him, loud and hard, you imagined his furrowed eyebrows, jaw clenched and angry pursed lip. You broke him once, and you did it again. It was time to pack up and go, before it was too late, before you could cause anymore heartbreak. 

As Mat rushed through the rain from your cabin to his, Anthony watched his friend from his own window, sighing in defeat. 

A few hours later as you cab pulled up and your Long Island friends lined up to bid you goodbye, Mat stayed far back, waiting by the cab. As you passed through each member, hugging them with a sad smile, you knew that Julie and Anthony would have something to say. Julie’s blue eyes were sad, her smile soft. “I’m going to miss you” she whispered, pulling you in for a hug. “I’m going to miss you too” you gulped, squeezing her tightly. You smiled as you moved to Anthony, whose expression was apologetic and sorrow. 

He pulled you in for a hug, stroking your hair gingerly as his lips hovered from your ear. “He misses you. He regrets it all I hope you know that.” You remained silent, pulling back from his hold. “We’re better off on our own Tito.” you whispered, Julie’s hand stroke your arm gently. “You and I both know that's a lie.” Anthony’s voice was cold, his eyes set into yours. “I’m sorry.” you shook your head, turning to head towards you cab. 

The wedding party behind you parted, leaving you to walk underneath the rain, protected by a dark umbrella above your head. As you approached the cab, the driver greeting you with a small nod, you thanked him as he placed your suitcase in the trunk. Mat stood not to far off, watching you with a painful look. He looked cozy, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and an Islanders hoodie, one you always stole once upon a time ago. Your mind told you to sit in the cab, but your heart said go to him. 

You excused yourself from the driver, making your way towards Mat. His body relaxed as you neared, dark hair wet from either the rain or a shower. He stood tall underneath his own umbrella. You stepped close to him, closing your own umbrella and stepping underneath his. Your hair rested behind your ears, the black rain jacket secure around you. Your blue jeans matched the color of his hoodie, and the tips of your muddy sneakers touched his. 

“I meant what I said, all of it.” he whispered, his finger tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You closed your eyes at the touch. “I can't let you do that Mat.” you retorted. “You can't no, but I meant it, and it’s my choice.” his words dripped with scorn and pain. His dark eyes longed for yours. “I’m sorry for hurting you Mat.” He nodded, accepting your 100th apology. “You’re hurting me even more right now.” 

The cab driver called your name, alerting you that you were getting late. This was it. This was the end. 

“Please don’t go.” he whispered. “I’m sorry Mat, I am so sorry.” and with that, your pulled him my the jaw in for a kiss. He kissed back immediately, holding onto your waist tightly. “I love you.” your words brushed against his lips. “I love you too” he sighed as you pulled away, turning abruptly, and ran. Running back to the cab, away from him, just like you had that brutal Sunday morning. 

[gyllenhaalstories]

a symphony without harmony, part 1

summary: reader’s ballet company decides to participate in a charity during the holidays. the event consists of recreating the nutcracker, the wonderful ballet inspired by tchaikovskiys symphonies. after months of auditions, reader is chosen for the prestigious role of clara. reader does not know the details of the events, and ignores that the male part will be taken by a celebrity, hoping to attract spotlight for the charity. one could hope for a professionally trained dancer popular in one of those competition shows, but reader is not so pleasantly surprised to find out that tom holland (who’s just that backflipping spider guy in her mind) will be her prince for (maybe more than) one night. 

warnings: terrible representation of ballet, the nutcracker and basically everything, loads of angst and tension, reader is snobby but she’s not cold hearted just give her a chance. 

word count: 1901

note: my suggestion received a lot of support and i’m so happy to bring this idea to life! this will be a 3 or 4 part series. i’m enjoying myself too much with this to keep it short and sweet! please, take in consideration the fact that i know absolutely nothing about ballet. all the references i used in this piece come from barbie movies, so that says a lot. thank you so much for reading, and i hope you like it! i’m aware this is different than what i usually write, so be aware of that!

tags: @skymoonandstardust (thank you so much for your support and i’m sorry for the wait!)

“That was wonderful, Y/N! Thank you for another brilliant performance.” The choreographer applauded you, followed by the producers of the show and the representants of the charity you would be performing for. The rehearsal room was usually empty, without you and a record player to assist. This time was special, the charity event was taking place only a couple of weeks from now and since the auditions were completed, it was time for serious practices.

You danced for the New York City Ballet, perhaps one of the most prestigious company in the entire world. You were a newbie, did not have many friends amongst the veteran dancers, but you proved them you belonged in their clique when you won the audition for Clara, from The Nutcracker. You already knew the dance per heart, you had been practicing since you received your first tutu as a Christmas present. You would hum along Tchaikovsky's music while doing your homework and you had been dreaming every night of dancing along to the symphony in front of a real crowd. 

“We are waiting for our Nutcracker to arrive, he should be there in only a few moments.” The spokesperson of the company explained to the producers and the representants. Everyone seemed nervous. It was understandable, since the mysterious dancer was supposed to be there and witness your performance too. In fact, you two were supposed to meet a long time ago, but he said he was busy. Too busy for the charity, you figured. Too busy to help you make your biggest dream come true, you sighed. 

“I hope our dancer knows that the company does not tolerate lateness.” You commented and went to the corner of the room to take a sip of water. It was only then that the door slammed open and a rather short, muscular guy made his entrance. He was followed by another young man, this one taller and slimmer. He carried a camera and was filming everything the shorter one did. You squinted at the sight. The second one would suit the role better, but if he was filming the first man who walked in, it can only mean…

“Marvelous! Our Prince Eric is here!” Your choreographer exclaimed loudly, his voice resonating against the walls. 

You pressed your lips in a thin line and flattened your skirt in annoyance. Your coach gave you a stern look, and you replied with even more severity. So that exclaimed why they kept his identity secret, they went for the pot of gold and expected you to be fine with it. “The Nutcracker is a ballet, not a YouTube video.” You breathed through your teeth when you recognized the man. 

Tom Holland himself was giving you the warmest smile. He went in for a handshake, but took his arm back when he noticed that you denied him. He looked to the other guy, as if to tell him to cut that part of whatever he was filming. “What’s up? I’m Tom. And that’s my brother, Harry. He likes making videos, so I brought him along.” His tone of voice seemed calm and poised, although he was freaking out. He had only heard the best compliments about you, his dancer partner. To be honest, he was intimidated and your attitude was not helping. 

“Y/N.” You breathed out and tightened your hair bun nonchalantly. “We only film our performances hoping to work on our flaws, we don’t film stuff for fun.” 

The noticeable disdain in your voice earned you another warning from your choreographer. “Miss, please. Would you mind doing your solo again? I bet mister Holland here would love to see it.” 

“If mister Holland wanted to see it, he had to be on time.” You crossed your arms against your chest, but still walked towards the center of the room. “There’s one plié I want to work on, so I’ll do it again and see if I can improve it.” 

Just like that, you were dancing to the symphony from the Dance of the Sugar-Plum fairy. Tom barely had time to get out of the way before you swayed around him, owning the dancefloor like no one was watching. Harry pulled on his sleeve and indicated to come and sit by the empty chairs in the front, so they could all get a better view of your flawless performance. The beautiful music filled everyone’s ears and their eyes were pleased by this light pink ballerina dancing around like a professional. 

And that was exactly what you were: a professional. You had to admit you could have given Tom a better welcome, but you could not wrap your mind around the fact that this was an important charity event, hosted in front of the prestigious elite of New York City. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and you were hoping to book a contract or two after your performance. You were disappointed when you recognized the actor, this almost impostor. It was probably just another appearance for him, not different from a silly Buzzfeed interview or a meaningless question and answer session after a photoshoot. Whilst, for you, it was quite possibly the only chance you would ever get to be in Clara’s ballet shoes for one night. 

Tom sprung up on his feet to cheer you. Him alone was louder than the bravo’s you heard earlier from everyone else. And his brother captured it all. “That was sick, dude!” Tom congratulated you, his accent gaining a sudden American tone to it. “I have lots of work to do to be on your level.” He confessed with an apologetic giggle. The representants assured him he would be able to do justice to the part, but he still looked uncertain. 

Everyone agreed it was the perfect moment to put an end to this first meeting and you soon grabbed your belongings, rushing to the door to change into your clothes, before Tom cut you off. 

“Hey, Y/L, right? That was great, what you did!” Tom was standing in front of you, looking fidgety and nervous. “I was hoping, you know, you could show me a thing or two. Only if you have time for it, and if you want to! I didn’t know… Woah, I didn’t know this was so serious!” 

“It’s the New York City Ballet, were you expecting a fiasco?” You laughed at your own comment, but finally took a moment to breathe deeply. “I guess I can make time for you. You have a lot to learn if you thought I was going to suck.” You gave him a shrug and you looked at him from head to toe. He seemed to have dressed into something comfortable enough to dance and the effort warmed your cold behavior. “I expected a dancer, forgive me for the surprise.” 

The English man chuckled at your last comment. “I dance! I mean, I used to. I did gymnastics too. My parents would always take me to watch ballets, but I was not flexible enough to pursue anything… So I went with my other passion.” For some reason, he felt like he had to prove himself to you. He had to prove you wrong, in some way. 

He left you impressed, to say the least. You did not know much about the guy, but there was something to work with. “Which is shooting webs from your wrists and develop an unhealthy obsession with spiders, I believe.”

“You’re a serious one, aren’t ya, darling?” 

“This is my moment of glory. I would be stupid not to take it seriously.” 

Tom had a million of questions to ask you. What do you love about dancing? When did you start, what was your favorite choreography, why did you pick New York, why you wore your hair in a bun even for informal rehearsals, why you were not in pain when you went on the tip of your toes, why you did a jeté so easily… The list went on and Harry documented all of it. He wanted to get to know you because it was important for him to build a friendship with all of his co-stars and that was how he saw you, as a star. The more you two discussed, over stretching and pirouettes, the less intimidated he became, but the more admiration he had for you. 

It would be a lie to say you did not enjoy his dedication to your art. He tried countless times a movement he did not get right on the first attempt and he listened to the tips you gave him about flexibility. He was willing to learn, which took you off guard. When you recognized the movie star, you were expecting to see a walking ego and the most arrogance ever contained in one small body, but he was… Nice. Maybe this whole thing was salvageable. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” Tom sighed and fell into a starfish position on the floor, after trying his best to reach his toes while leaning forward. “I used to do that everyday when I was five! And now it feels like I climbed the Everest mountain.” 

You let a chuckle escape your lips when you stood up and offered him a hand. He accepted it, not without hesitating, and you shrugged. “All you gotta do is fake it till you make it. We’re all in pain here, but we don’t let it show.” 

“So… Basically act like I’m having the time of my life?” He sounded so proud of the association between dancing and acting.

“Exactly. Keep that in mind for the big show and we might get out of there alive.” You laughed again. 

His muscles lost their tension when he heard you laugh for the second time. Your facade was falling down, and he was pleased to meet a human being underneath the stereotypical robotic ballerina. “I know another neat trick to fight the pain.” 

Both Harry and you spinned on your feet and looked at Tom’s burst of confidence. “And that is..?” 

“Hanging out at a pub, a café, or something.” 

You fought the urge to smile and shook your head. “I have more things to do. I need to stop by the costumes to get my dress adjusted and I need to buy new shoes…” 

“Come on, dear! It’s already so late and I’m surprised you’ve not given up already on the helpless cause that I am. You deserve a break.” He jumped like an excited child. “It’s my treat!” 

And with that, everything you had planned for the night, all of the extra stretches and exercises by the bar you installed in your living room vanished. “Only if you promise to be here on time for the next practice, and in proper apparel.” 

“Sounds like a deal to me!” He helped you carry your things outside of the rehearsal room. “Wait, do you mean I gotta wear thights?” 

“Oh, the full thing. Thights, shoes… And a bright pink tutu. Take it or leave it.” You smirked at him and, to your surprise, he seemed more enthusiastic than ever. 

“If I wore a thong for months while filming Spider-Man, I can live with the most obnoxious tutu you can find!” 

“You won’t be disappointed, mister Holland.” You nodded, accepting the dare. 

“Neither will you.” He promised. “I will not disappoint you.” 

[vitavitale]

@corvidamned​ sent:  A hat box of deep purple roses and a small box of truffles for V.

The presentation was beautiful in its simplicity, far from ostentatious and, so, quite sincere in his eyes. It was always the thought that counted, what mattered most to him than any material thing, and he was more moved by the fact that Kira would bother at all to give him a gift, to take the time out of her day to... Ah, well, the warlock was only a small, modest man, known to few and important to less. Not quite on anyone’s gifting lists, and yet he’d made it on Kira’s.

“Ah, Kira, this is really too much...” The smile on his face spoke to his emotion, tame as it was. Who would ever give him a thought? Who would go out of their way to buy him things, assemble a package for a gift? He knew not one...only that had changed ever since The Order came quite uncomfortably close, ironically enough. The people he wanted to distance himself from would defy him by granting a friendship with two, not just one, of their members, and this was how it culminated: in gestures of affection sprung from authentic feelings of compassion. Perhaps it had been a sickly-sweet sentiment of V’s, but he could not help to appreciate and to treasure the little things in life. But to receive such a handsome gift on Valentine’s Day could not have been a little thing by any measure! It was very much grand, powered by a big heart, and it sank into the darker, more obscure waters of his chambers like an anchor. Oh, but he was such a sap, making such a big thing of this. He held the box with care, smiling on at it and her, offering even a bow of his head in thanks. “I hate to sound trite, but you shouldn’t have. Thank you, though. This is very thoughtful of you.” He’d keep those roses on full display for as long as they’d live.

[my-seokjinnie]

Moving On

Pairing: Jin x Reader x Namjoon Genre: Angst with a sorta happy ending Warnings: Death, grieving, ghosts, Ghost!Jin Summary: After Jin dies in a car accident, he has to watch his wife move on with one of his best friends. WC: 2078 _________

Jin doesn’t remember dying. He remembers the sound of your voice. The way your voice went up an octave, as you teased him for calling you five minutes after leaving the house; he had already forgotten what kind of ice cream you had requested. He thinks he remembers headlights dangerously close to him, but he doesn’t remember the impact. He didn’t feel any pain — he had died immediately.

He doesn’t know how long he has been dead, either. The calendar that was kept in your kitchen — the one that he had marked up constantly with all of your events and plans had been stuck on July for months. You hadn’t even glanced at it. You were never one to really keep up with things; Jin had always played that role in your life. However, your grieving made it even worse. If he had to guess, it was probably six months. Christmas had come and gone — and you had a few birthday cards lying around the house. It was probably February.

Jin decided early on that he was being punished. Being a ghost was awful in itself; he couldn’t touch or say anything. It was very inconvenient. But, to be stuck haunting the house of your grieving wife — well, that was just brutal. He watched you cry until you were just gasping for air; no tears left to cry. Most nights, you just came home from work and went to bed. You barely ate anything, you didn’t talk to anyone. Your best friends had tried and failed to cheer you up. It was so painful to witness. And he couldn’t do a damn thing. He just watched you suffer, feeling his non-existent heart breaking.

If Jin didn’t believe he was being punished before, he was definitely being punished now. Namjoon had been a good friend to him for over ten years. He had always been around for dinners and he had become close to you over the last few years. Jin always knew you and Namjoon were more alike than you and Jin, but he always found it endearing that one of his close friends and his wife had really liked each other.

So, after he died and Namjoon showed up and looked after you, he felt grateful. Your best friends couldn’t constantly be with you and Namjoon filled in the gaps where they couldn’t be. It started out with him just bringing you food. He would make sure you ate and then left. Then, it turned into a closer friendship. He stopped over for dinner a few times a week and stayed. You two watched movies together and talked for hours. He sometimes stayed in the guest bedroom. Jin was just happy that you were smiling again. 

It wasn’t until later that he understood what was happening. You two were falling in love.

Namjoon had kissed you one night. Sitting on the couch, you had been watching one of the Harry Potter movies that you loved so much. You had looked at each other and then he did it. Jin was so shocked, he didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he could do. He felt betrayed, somehow. The wedding ring he had given you was still resting on the ring finger of the hand that was sprawled across Namjoon’s cheek. You were kissing him back. The anger exploded out of Jin and he screamed. You heard nothing, but the pain had exploded out of him, causing a vase of flowers to fall off the kitchen table and shatter. You and Namjoon both jumped apart, quickly, startled by the noise.

You seemed to realize what had happened and pushed yourself away from Namjoon quickly. Namjoon just gave you a small smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely. “I didn’t know I was going to do it until I did.”

“It’s okay,” you said, running a hand through your hair, looking flustered. “But, I’m not ready for that.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon said, placing his hand on your knee. Jin wanted to rip his hand off of his body. How could Namjoon do this to him? All the times he had been there for his friend and this is how he repaid him. 

“I just really miss Jin,” you said, tears springing to your eyes. Namjoon frowned, rubbing your knee. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give you anything, Joon. Because I gave everything to him. I don’t think there’s love to give, anymore. He has all of it.”

Good, Jin thought selfishly. How dare he try and come in here and make a move on his wife only six months after his death.

“I know it’s hard right now, y/n,” Namjoon said, softly. “But you’ll get through this. You’re strong enough. And, you’ll eventually find someone else. It doesn’t have to be me, but Jin would want you to be happy.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” you said, burying your face in your hands. Jin could hear muffled sobs. When you pulled your hands away, you looked devastated. Your eyes were bloodshot and your nose was red. “We were supposed to have children and go on family vacations. We were supposed to grow old together and bicker about stupid things. He wasn’t supposed to die until he was gray and old — surrounded by his kids and grandkids. It isn’t fair.” 

You buried your face into your hands again and sobbed. Namjoon pulled you closer to his body, allowing you to bury your face in his chest. He rubbed your back and soothed you through the sobs.

“You’re going to be okay,” Namjoon said. “Just give it time.”

Jin felt something inside of him break. He had been selfish. He was dead. There wasn’t anything he could do for you now. Namjoon was alive and Jin knew he cared for you. The way Namjoon looked at you was the same way Jin had; like you were the sun in an otherwise dark world. You needed him. He was the only one that was going to get you through this.

As the next few months passed, Jin watched as you and Namjoon continued being friends. Every time anything remotely romantic began, you shut it down immediately. But, you were crying less and you had stopped talking to Jin as much as you had been. 

Namjoon made you happy. He made you laugh; a sound that Jin hadn’t heard in a long time. His horrible singing paired with his crazy dance moves had you crying tears of laughter one night. Both of you were clumsy and when he dropped something, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at how alike you were. As much as he missed being the reason for your smile, he was just happy that it was happening. Jin knew it was time for you to move on. 

He could almost feel your hesitancy with Namjoon. He watched as your hand hovered over his on many occasions and the way you watched his lips as he spoke to you. But no matter how much you yearned for Namjoon, you wouldn’t act on it.

“I can’t do it,” you said, looking at the ceiling one night. “If I go out with him, I’m letting go of you, Jin. I’m not ready to let go of you. I miss you. God, I miss you so much.” Tears sprung to your eyes, but you calmed yourself down before it got too out of hand. “I miss the sound of your laugh. You had the most infectious laugh, Jinnie. And the look on your face when you were so done with my bullshit — I just continued being a brat to see that face.” You laughed for a bit, remembering. It caused Jin to roll his eyes affectionately. “The look you gave me when we were just lying in bed — that soft smile; the one where your cheeks would inflate. The smell of your skin and your hair. I walked by a store a few days ago and smelt the cologne you used to wear. I burst into tears immediately. Everyone around me thought I was crazy.” You laughed a bit at that. “I miss your dad jokes — yeah, I finally admit it. I loved your stupid dad jokes.” 

“I knew it,” Jin whispered, even though you couldn’t hear him. 

“You were such a goof,” you said, laughing again. “The things you did to make me laugh…” you trailed off for a few moments and then sighed. “I love you, Jin. I love you more than anything and I hope wherever you are, you still know that. It’s never going to change. No matter what. If I fall in love again, it will never be what we had. Please know that.”

“I know,” Jin whispered.

There was a long pause as if you expected to hear a response from him. The silence was the only thing you heard, though.

“Goodnight, Jin,” you said, glancing over at the photo of the two of you that you kept on your nightstand. 

As you fell asleep that night, Jin laid beside you on the bed. He looked at the crease in your forehead; he knew you were dreaming of something distressing.

“y/n,” his voice was soft. The crease in your forehead went away, suddenly. “I’m okay. All I want is for you to be happy. Don’t feel bad about moving on. Namjoon is wonderful and he cares about you. There’s no one I would rather see you with. You have your whole life ahead of you. Fall in love again. Be happy. If Namjoon makes you happy, go for it. Life is short. I should know. I will love you forever and we will meet again, eventually.”

When you awoke the next morning, there were tear tracks down your cheeks but you looked like a new person. You showered, got dressed and did your makeup for the first time in months. Namjoon was over that night after work. You were eating takeout on the couch when you broke the silence.

“I had a dream about Jin last night,” you said, looking over at Namjoon. Namjoon turned to look at you, a sad smile on his lips.

“Oh yeah?” he said, looking at you a bit worriedly. 

“It was a great dream,” you said. Namjoon’s worried face turned into a hopeful smile. “We were sitting in a field of flowers — the weather was beautiful. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.”

“Sounds peaceful,” Namjoon said, genuinely.

“He told me he loved me,” you said, looking over at Namjoon. “But, that it was time to move on. It was time to stop holding onto him and to find a way to be happy.”

“Sounds like Jin,” Namjoon said. “He was always a selfless guy.”

“You make me happy, Joon,” you said, seriously. “And I know I totally blew you off last time, but I think I’m ready now — if you still feel the same way.”

The shock on Namjoon’s face made you laugh a bit. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, giving him a small smile. “I’m ready to be happy again.”

The smile that spread onto Namjoon’s face was infectious. It made you smile even more. You poked his dimples, causing Namjoon to smile larger. He grabbed your hand in his and kissed your palm.

“Then, yeah,” Namjoon said. “Yeah, let’s try this out. But, let me take you out on a proper date.”

“Okay,” you agreed, excitedly.

You finished your meal in companionable silence and you fell asleep against Namjoon’s shoulder while you watched a film. Namjoon looked up to the ceiling, suddenly. 

“I’ll take care of her, Jin Hyung,” Namjoon said, sounding genuine and serious. “I promise. Rest well, brother. I miss you.”

And just like that, Jin felt a warmth radiate over him. There was a blinding light off in the distance. He looked over at you, fast asleep, no sign of distress on your face. Jin knew the two of you would meet again — he could feel it. You were meant to be together — just not in this life. 

He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I love you,” one last time. A small smile formed on your lips in your sleep. It made Jin smile. He moved away from you, taking one last look at you before he allowed the light to envelop him in warmth.

_________ Sorry my first story I post on here is angst! I’m a sucker for angst. I promise the next one will be fluffier! 😊