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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

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that makes four.

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PART 4

Tristan had slapped his menu shut before you could even sit down. He’d been begging you to try a new place in Encino with him, you figured it was a good excuse to get Zoey out of the house and to let Maeve and CeCe duke it out in Shelli and Irv’s backyard instead of yours.

It was all work talk at first, he offered an update on a meeting you missed to drop off Maeve at a friend’s and Zoey sucked down a glass of wine promising to pump and dump before the night ended.

But now your plates were in front of you and you twirled spaghetti around your fork when she asked: “How’s your pool boy?” You stared up at her, unimpressed.

“He’s not my pool boy, and he’s fine.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows across the table. “Would you let Harry Styles be your pool boy?”

“Can we not talk about him like this, please?”

“Oh come on,” Tristan pulled a face. “If you’re not going to sleep with him at least let us fantasize.”

You must have twitched, a quick glance in Zoey’s direction or a quiver of your lip. Zoey leaned in and her voice was serious. “What was that?”

“What? Nothing.”

“What do you mean what was that?” Tristan asked.

“She made a weird face when you said that.”

“No I didn’t,” you defended. “I just don’t like talking about him in public, especially like this.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey laughed, leaned back in her chair. “What are you not telling us? Did you see him shirtless again?”

You let out a breath, wiped at your mouth and wondered if telling them would be the biggest mistake of your life. You couldn’t even get the words out before Zoey leaned in.

“You had sex with him?!” her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, Tristan’s fork clanked against his plate when his jaw dropped open.

You’d made it a whole week, almost. You pushed the thoughts down and brushed them under the metaphorical work rug. The body wash prototypes were in, you were booking models to do a photoshoot, video shoot, everything was getting lined up for the rollout in another few weeks. You didn’t have time to tell them about something silly and stupid and maybe a part of you didn’t want to fill them in because you were afraid they’d burst your bubble. It’ll never work out, what happens when his house is ready, he has a tour to go on.

“Be quiet,” you looked around and worried if anyone had overheard Tristan’s not-so-subtle name drop. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s not like it’s gonna be a regular thing.”

Tristan pulled his head back, offended by your words. “You had sex with him and you’re not going to make that a regular thing? Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” you made a face at Tristan. “I have seen him.”

“You are going to hit and quit Harry Styles?” Zoey leaned in and said his name much more quietly now.

“Well,” you dropped their gaze for a second, reluctant to be honest with them in fear of their reaction. “It’s happened once, and then we kissed once but CeCe came down, but she didn’t see anything. I’m just too old to be hooking up with a twenty-four year old.”

“Wait, okay, slow down. When did this happen?” Zoey asked.

“After my birthday dinner,” you shrugged. “We came home, had wine, the girls were out.”

“And when did you make out with him aside from that night?”

“The next night. And we didn’t make out, it was barely even open-mouthed.”

“Ew,” Tristan grimaced.

Zoey snapped to get your attention. “So twenty-four hours after you had sex, you kissed him?”

You made a face at her, unsure where she was going with it. You hadn’t been clocking or documenting your sexual encounters. “I don’t know, probably.”

“This is straight out of a trashy romance book written for middle aged women,” Tristan leaned back in his seat and took a pull from his glass of rosé. “I mean that in, like, a nice way.”

“Okay,” Zoey leaned forward. “So, nothing has happened since a week ago, then?”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Just those times. And I don’t think anything should happen again.”

They both groaned at the same time, Zoey’s shoulders sunk and she rolled her eyes. “You deserve to have sex with a hot guy.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Even if he’s younger than you.”

“I don’t want to traumatize my children.”

“Well you don’t have to have sex in front of them,” Tristan made a goofy face and you waved him off.

Zoey snorted out a laugh but you ignored their immaturity.

“I mean that having Harry here is already probably confusing for them, right? Their dad leaves, their grandpa dies, now we have some stranger in our house and he’s playing with them in the backyard and--”

“Being more of a dad to them than Luke ever was?”

Zoey’s words brought a sigh out from between your lips. “Exactly.”

“Having a positive male role model is good for them,” Tristan said.

“Sure,” you nodded. “But what about when Harry moves out? He’ll just be another man that will leave them. They’ll be super fucked up.”

Tristan reached forward and took your hand in his. “Hey--it’s more about the fact that they have you and they have other people who love them. Who cares if their idea of a family isn’t the stereotypic, heterosexual norm?”

“I know,” you relented. “I just don’t want them to be poorly adjusted.”

“Okay, that sounds like something an obnoxious prep school guidance counselor would say to you,” Zoey eyed you with skepticism.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It was Maeve’s teacher.”

“Okay, fuck that teacher!” Tristan nodded. “Your kids are adjusting, and that’s because of how good of a mom you are to them. And mommy deserves a pool boy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if his words were worthy of an eye-roll. Zoey tried not to let wine drip from her nose after a snort escaped between sips.

“Not my pool boy!” You giggled.

“Which is good,” Tristan nodded, his tone completely serious. “That would be so cliché even Nora Roberts wouldn’t write it.”

Slumber parties always made you anxious. They were one of those things that made you question how on earth people trusted you to watch a group of children when sometimes, you still felt like one yourself.

Maeve’s 11th birthday party was no exception. Five other girls danced around your living room and CeCe sat at the counter while you iced cupcakes. Her little face was scrunched into a pout so intensely that it almost made you giggle.

“You alright?” You asked her, dish towel over your shoulder when she let out another sigh.

“Just wish I could play with them,” she held her palms towards the sky in exasperation, reaching for a container of sprinkles when you let out a laugh.

“You get to go for ice cream with Uncle Jeff, remember? You’re gonna go to the beach, too, I think.”

You’d been trying to bribe her all week: a new tutu, a new doll, anything she wanted just to make her give up and accept the fact that her older sister didn’t want her at her slumber party.

And you couldn’t blame either of them. Of course Maeve didn’t want her younger (and very loud, dramatic, and demanding) younger sister trailing behind all night. But, on the other hand, of course CeCe felt left out when she saw all of the older girls arrive with their sleeping bags and birthday gifts.

She sighed again, your conversation interrupted by a ringing from your cell phone on the counter beside her.

“Uncle Jeff?”

She was right, you reached for the phone and held it up with your shoulder, hoping the laughter from the living room wouldn’t travel it’s way into the speaker.

“Hi--are you here?”

“Y/N, I am so sorry to do this--”

“Oh god, Jeff, no!”

“I just got called into the office because one of my artists apparently just posted some stupid shit on the internet--isn’t there someone else who can hang out with CeCe? Where’s Tristan?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I doubt he’d be thrilled to play dress up or skip through a park.”

“Zoey?”

You could hear traffic through his line, his karma for backing out at the last minute was having to sit on the 405. “She has a ten-week-old infant, Jeffrey.”

“Well where’s Harry? Can’t he pitch in?”

You let out a groan, CeCe had taken to pouring sprinkles into her hand and lapping them up with her tongue.

Harry was upstairs, hiding away from the girl gang currently singing karaoke and sipping on juice boxes. He had the day off and had dipped out in the afternoon to meet a friend for lunch. You tried to mind your own business--he could come and go as he pleased and just because you had slept with him once didn’t give you the right to suddenly start asking questions about his plans.

But the universe pitied you, apparently, because right when you told Jeff you’d figure it out and hung up on him aggressively, Harry pranced down the stairs and headed for the fridge.

“How’s it going down here?” He reached for a juice box, crisp apple, and fumbled with the straw when he turned to face you.

“Everyone is alive and nothing is broken,” you scanned the counter, another batch of cupcakes still in the oven with 10 minutes to go.

With the straw now between his lips, he raised his eyebrows. “Bar’s that low, huh?”

“Well, your friend Jeffrey just bailed on watching CeCe and going for ice cream.”

She was blissfully unaware of the change of plans, still licking sprinkles out of her palm, but now swiveled around on the stool to watch the girls jump around in the other room.

“I can take her,” he shrugged nonchalantly, ran a hand through his hair when you stared at him for a second.

If traffic was Jeff’s karma, Harry must have been yours.

“Are you serious? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “CeCe? What do you say we do ice cream and pizza?”

She turned around at the sound of her name, her eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?” She asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied to her like it was a crazy question.

“Is Uncle Jeff coming?”

“He’s not,” You informed her, arms crossed over your chest. “You’re alright to go with Harry?”

You didn’t mean to make it awkward, but mom mode kicked in and you realized CeCe had never spent time alone with Harry except maybe in the backyard.

“Yeah!” She hopped down from the stool and grinned up at him. “Can I get a milkshake?”

Harry looked over to you and when you nodded, he held out his hand. “As many as you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” you called after him, watching as he led her over to the back door. He plucked his keys off the hook on the wall and smiled at you over his shoulder. “Please don’t be out late, text me when you get where you’re going!”

CeCe shouted a bye mommy!!!! before they disappeared into the driveway. A sudden raise in your pulse had you questioning what type of mother lets their 6-year-old get in the car with a pop star who’s probably hounded by paparazzi and maybe even doing cocaine on the weekends.

You picked up your phone and it rang four times before Zoey answered. “I need you to talk me off the ledge.”

“What ledge?”

The timer beeped and you gloved up to retrieve the rest of the cupcakes. “I’m apparently a psychopath because I just let Harry take CeCe for pizza and ice cream.”

You could tell she held back a laugh. “Why does that make you a psychopath?”

“Because he’s a stranger! What if he never comes back with her? What if he gets chased by paparazzi and CeCe is the next Princess Diana?!” The thought shuttered through your bones, a shiver down your spine when Zoey cleared her throat.

“Okay, so, as a mom, I totally get that. But I also think you’re freaking out too much.”

The cupcake tin rattled onto the granite. “How?!”

“He’s not a stranger, he’s been living with you guys for like, over a month now.”

You thought about it for a second. Two weeks turned into a few more, four weeks slipped by easily. What felt like it was going to be a blip on the radar now felt like a totally normal thing: dinners with him as the fourth seat and texts to him in the middle of the day asking if there was anything he was in the mood for.

“I just can’t believe I trust him enough to do that, I guess.”

“Y/N, he’s a good guy,” she laughed. “He likes your kids and he definitely likes you.”

“We’re not going there,” you said. “I have a house full of ten-year-olds and cupcakes to frost.”

“Okay, well, you’re not a psychopath. And there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for him.”

“Zoey! You are starting to sound like the psychopath!”

“I’m alright with that,” laughter through the phone when you told her you had to go. Love you, see you later, pinch Benny’s cheeks for me.

You were swept up in the excitement of the night. Your own pizza was delivered before 8pm, a movie turned on by 9pm. They decorated cupcakes at the dining room table and proceeded to eat more than they could fit in their tummies.

Maeve was in heaven, opened presents when you snapped pictures on your phone. Harry had texted to let you know they’d stop at Shelli and Irv’s before heading home. If CeCe came home in the middle of presents, she’d probably break down right there.

So when you heard the alarm signal a new entry, you hoped CeCe was too tired to argue with you about sleeping in her own room and not in Maeve’s with the rest of them. Your legs were folded beneath you on the couch, noise in the kitchen when Harry rounded the corner with CeCe asleep on his shoulder.

You stood up, eyebrows high when he smirked in your direction. “She’s out cold,” he laughed. “Fell right asleep on the way home.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive from their house,” you said, opening your arms to take her. “Sorry, here.”

“I can bring her up...just lead the way,” he motioned with his head for you to go first up the stairs. He followed you down the hall and to CeCe’s room, pink walls and a plush carpet underneath her twin-sized bed that still seemed too big for her.

He put her down when you flipped on a nightlight, watched when you tugged the duvet over her and kissed her on the forehead. You sighed when you stood up straight beside him, voice quiet. “I’m not waking her up to brush her teeth cause she’ll freak out and want to be included in the party. Am I a bad mom?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, smirked down at you quickly before looking back to her. “You’re a great mom.”

You elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “You have to say that.”

“I do?”

“I’m your landlord,” you laughed, leading him back into the hallway.

“I thought you were my friend?”

A sigh, the darkness a cover for your confusion and your fluttering heart beat. “Yeah, that too.”

He was quiet for a second, if it weren’t for the bedroom of kids down the hall you’d pull him into you despite better judgment. He stared down at you with a dimpled smile, but you took a step back.

“Thanks for taking her, and hanging out with her. You really didn’t have to.”

“I had fun,” he reassured you. “We got a pizza and ate in a park near Westwood Hills, then got ice cream, visited with Shelli and Irv,” he listed it off like it brought him as much joy as it did her.

“Hey, not to be weird or anything, but--how’s your house coming?”

He sensed the shift in the air too, but he didn’t know that it came from a place of fear. A question you had to ask: this was temporary, this wasn’t real, this was just a convenient set up and you couldn’t lose sight of that.

“Oh, yeah--I’m going over on Sunday to see it. Apparently there are still issues with the plumbing that have to be updated. They said it might be a few more weeks.”

“Okay, I just didn’t know.”

“Yeah, is that okay? I can try to find somewhere to stay if you need me out?”

“No,” you said it quickly. “I don’t need you to leave.”

“Okay,” he said, his eyes still on yours. He reached forward to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I like staying here with you guys.”

“...I like it too.”

“Mom?” Maeve’s head poked out of her bedroom. “Hayley spilled soda on the carpet!”

He stepped back from you quickly, like his reflexes were getting better each time. You laughed at his sudden movement, “coming!”

He smiled down at you and let out an exaggerated sigh once Maeve’s door was slammed shut and the music was back on, a magnetic pull between your chests that maybe he felt too. “Hayley, Hayley, Hayley.”

But again, a rush of uncertainty and self-doubt made you grateful for the interruption, your stomach weaving itself in knots when you stared at your ceiling fan and hoped that sleep would come.

Work picked up in the next week, Tristan was in your office most days with spreadsheets and graphs and to-do lists that made you feel like you needed a margarita at 2pm. On Wednesday Harry made dinner and CeCe had a meltdown when you forced her to take a bath.

Friday night entailed dinner at Shelli and Irv’s, the girls and Harry and Jeff too. You stood in the kitchen with a glass of wine in hand, Shelli watched as their chef sautéed something through steam. When Jeff pulled Harry away to show him a new guitar Irv had been gifted, you ignored the smile on Shelli’s face.

“How are things going?”

“Fine,” you said, casually and calm and cool. “How are you?”

“Y/N,” she smiled. “Does Jeffrey know?”

“Know what?”

“About you and Harry?”

“No,” you told her quickly. “There’s nothing to know, alright? We were drunk, it was not a big deal.”

“Alright,” she held up a hand, effectively resigning when she sipped her Pinot Grigio, a disappointed sigh before she asked: “How are the girls holding up?”

You sighed, unsure if she’d really drop it. You told her about Maeve’s birthday party and caught her up on the body wash debut. Deadlines were quickly approaching, the launch party was being scheduled and production was full steam ahead.

You almost thought you’d make it through the rest of the night without any drama--no more mention of Harry or the happenings between you. But eventually he and Jeff found their way back to the kitchen and you hoped that no one noticed how close Harry stood to you.

Jeff was in the middle of filling you and Shelli in on Harry’s album plans: they were wrapping up production and soon they’d announce the release date, his excitement cut off by a shout from the backyard.

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice was shrill and desperate as it rang through the house. She let out a loud sob and when you looked up, you saw her clutching her elbow with a new grass stain on her shirt. She was fine, it was one of those moments where she thought the world was ending but everyone else knew getting knocked over by her sister wouldn’t kill her.

“She’s fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes, a quick look down to CeCe who’s eyes were already filled with tears.

“No I’m not!” she screamed back at her sister.

You looked to Shelli with an exasperated look, set your glass of wine down on the counter. Before you could make any movement, though, Harry’s hand hovered on the small of your back. “I’ll go, enjoy the wine. She’s fine.”

He was right, there was no question that CeCe would survive her scraped elbow and bruised ego. He moved towards the backyard and you were frozen in place when Jeff’s forehead wrinkled.

“What was that?” he asked, eyebrows strung together like tea lights once Harry was out of earshot.

“I don’t know--what do you mean?”

You looked over at Harry, now on the ground in front of CeCe who’s wails were much quieter. She wiped at her wet eyes, a little laugh escaped her lips when Harry brushed the grass off of her elbow and cracked a joke.

“Well, he seems pretty good with them,” Jeff leaned against the counter, the sliding door providing a perfect view as CeCe stood up and raced back towards Maeve.

“Yeah, I mean, he is.”

“He also touched your back in a funny way.”

Shelli raised her eyebrows and sipped at her wine again.

“And now my mom is making a weird face,” Jeff’s eyes narrowed when he looked at you. “Are you--is there, like, something going--”

“No,” you said quickly, a finger pointed at Shelli and another pointed at Jeff. “Do not say anything in front of the girls.”

Shelli stifled a laugh but managed to look incredibly innocent at the same time.

“Oh my god!” Jeff said this with a noise of shock, eyes wide when he looked between you and Shelli, then back out to the yard where Harry laughed with Irv. “Oh my god, and you knew?”

Shelli shrugged her shoulders, a don’t blame me look crossed her face when you took a swig of wine to calm the pounding of your heart.

Jeff had always been protective and caring and like a brother. Not in a weird way, not in the you can’t date my friends way. Just in the sense that he wanted to know who you were hooking up with and he’d been encouraging you relentlessly to stop picking assholes ever since you filed for divorce.

But this was different, this was a friend of his and a client of his. It was someone that his entire family knew and this was probably the worst choice of rebound.

“Please relax,” you said this with a look of warning in his direction. “I will explain to you what your lunatic mother is smirking about but you have about fifteen seconds to wipe the look of shock off your face before he comes back in here.”

“She’s fine,” Harry waved a hand once he was back in the kitchen. “And what look of shock are we wiping off of our faces?” The dimple was there again, the corner of his mouth pulled up and he scanned all three of you for any sort of information.

“Just that you are so good with the girls,” Jeff covered for you, a confident nod when he hoped Harry would believe him.

“That’s surprising to you?” Harry pulled his head back, an obvious look of mock offense. “I’m great with children. They love me.”

Maeve came in from the fading light, out of breath from running around with whatever ball they’d gotten their hands on. “Who loves you?”

“Kids,” Jeff replied for him.

“Oh,” Maeve said. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You looked down at her, unsure if she was agreeing or just voicing that she understood.

She shrugged, plucked a chicken skewer from a dish in front of Shelli. “I mean, I like having him around.”

Harry was practically tickled pink. “Thank you, Maeve.” He turned to rub this in Jeff’s face. “See?”

“He cooks well, plays outside with us, definitely funnier than mom,” Maeve kept listing things off, pulling laughter from the rest of the crew.

“Maeve!” You whined. “I’m funny!”

“You’re like, sometimes funny.”

“Sometimes funny is better than never funny,” Harry nodded in your direction, an attempt to soften the blow.

CeCe had wandered in behind her sister, she picked at the scrape on her elbow until you called her attention. “CeCe--do you think mommy’s funny?”

“Mmmm,” the thought on it for a second, put her finger to her chin and scrunched up her nose. “Sort of.”

Jeff let out a big laugh at that, Harry tried to stifle one and you dismissed the jabs. “Okay, well, it’s not like anyone here is a comedian.”

“Harry’s funny,” CeCe said with a smile. “He reads books in silly voices.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up at that again, amused and surprised by the fact that Harry was in on the bedtime routine. But it was infrequent, sometimes CeCe would beg for more time outside or another thirty minutes of TV.

If the tears got aggressive or the tantrum became too much, she perked up pretty quickly if Harry offered to read with her. It was way more exciting than reading with you, Maeve had explained.

After showering Harry with compliments, the girls were excited to sit on Shelli and Irv’s patio. Pink lemonade and a delicious dinner, though neither of them would even so much as take a bit of your salad.

They ran around some more while you sipped wine, Jeff and Harry had been talked into a two versus two soccer match and Irv laughed his head off when Maeve actually scored on Jeff. Darkness came and CeCe crawled into your lap, eyelids getting heavy until you buckled her into the backseat.

You’d taken one car, CeCe’s booster seat was too clunky to move over to Harry’s so you drove and felt slightly embarrassed about the crayons and coloring books scattered on the floor of the backseat.

“Mom, can I have another sleepover this weekend?”

“With who?”

“All of the girls from last weekend.”

“Honey, no, that was a big party for your birthday.”

“I’m aware,” she shot back quickly. “But we all had so much fun and we wouldn’t be as loud as we were last time.”

“I said no, Maeve. You can do something with your friends if you want but we’re not doing another sleepover right now.”

You’d been hesitant about it in the first place. A group of ten and eleven-year-olds? With Harry in the house? It felt like a recipe for disaster and aside from a few excited stares when they were first dropped off, you all escaped relatively unscathed.

You worried at first about the whispers from other moms--she’s letting a twenty-four year-old live with her children?--but you soon realized that they were almost more excited about sneaking a glimpse of Harry than their daughters were.

“You’re so annoying,” she quipped from the back. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a tiny smirk, a sideways glance in your direction. You’d already told him how awkward it felt to discipline them with him right there, a glass of wine in the kitchen one night and he teased you about your frustrated mom voice.

“Maeve--don’t be rude. You just had a birthday party and now you want another, basically.”

“No, I want to have the same girls over. It’s not my birthday so it’s not a birthday party.”

A left turn into the driveway. “But you want me to order pizza and make cupcakes and you want to drink a bunch of soda again?”

“Yes.”

You pulled into the garage and cut the engine, turning to look at her. “Maeve, sweetie, I love you. But no.”

She let out a huff and shoved the door open, she typed in the entry code and slammed the door to the house before the rest of you could even climb out.

“The drama,” CeCe shook her head, tired steps towards the house.

“The drama is right,” you told her with a laugh. “Go wash up and I’ll come up in a few, okay?”

She scampered up the steps, you dropped your keys on the counter inside and then turned to look at him. “Do you have a second?”

He nodded, leaned on the counter. “What’s up?”

You didn't know if it was a good idea, but you'd spent enough morning drives to school lecturing about how honest is the best policy, so you figured you'd give it a shot.

“Uh, well--Jeff may or may not be suspicious about you and...me.”

Using the phrase made you nervous, like he’d laugh and think it was stupid. You and me.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows arched. “Did you--why did that come up?”

“Well you went to handle my crying child, which is--you know--”

He laughed a little, “too boyfriendy of me?”

Your heartbeat picked up in pace, your face felt hot and it suddenly felt like he was watching you too closely.

“No--I don’t know--you touched my back and he just asked what was happening.”

He deflated at that, hung his head low for a second and then looked up. “Oh, I--uh--I’m really sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You felt bad, that wasn’t the message you were trying to convey. If anything, you wanted to give him the out and the okay that he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to step into your family like some hero for you or your daughters. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I just--I don’t know where you are at, I guess.”

“And now Jeff is asking questions,” he laughed, a nod like he knew where you were going with it.

There was no label necessary. It wasn’t that type of thing, you knew that. “That’s what you walked in on after CeCe got hurt.”

Another nod, like the puzzle pieces were fitting into place. “Right. Got it. Was he--how did he seem? Did you tell him that we--”

“He put it together,” you cut him off, again careful of the words used around the girls even though they were upstairs and--by the sound of it--bickering in the bathroom. “But he was fine with it. I just think we need to be careful, you know. The girls...and this is temporary, and--”

“Absolutely.”

“So, you know, just--”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence. “I should go tuck them in.” You turned on your feet and headed for the stairs before he could reply, desperate to get out of the situation out of fear of having to find more words to string together in a messy jumble of emotions.

Another slammed door from Maeve when you reached the top of the stairs. You knocked twice. “Can I come in, please?”

“No!”

“Maeve,” you leaned against the doorframe. Harry came up and offered an awkward smile. “Please let me talk to you.”

“I’m not talking to you!” She shouted.

Harry came over and knocked. “Maeve? It’s Harry--can I come in?”

Silence for a second, her footsteps were audible on the wood floor. The door opened a crack, she peered out with narrowed eyes. “Fine--but not her.”

You looked over at Harry, unsure of his game plan but also fed up with the theatrics and the overreaction. He shrugged his shoulders half-apologetically, a smirk in your direction before he slipped into the room.

Did you stay and listen? Was it weird? What would he even say to her?

You decided against it, headed for your own bedroom and tugged on pajamas after you flicked on CeCe’s night light and kissed her goodnight. At least only one of them was being dramatic today.

Five minutes passed, then ten. You tried not to look at the clock and focused instead on a book Zoey had told you was a must read.

Eventually there was a knock on your door, Harry pushed it open and smiled. “Do you want some intel?”

“Duh,” you said. “Come in.”

He walked forward and sat on your bed, a sigh when he brought his eyes to yours again. “Well, she said you’re annoying again.”

“Of course.”

“She’s just grumpy. Said Hayley wanted to have a sleepover this weekend because it would be better at her house.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Some 5th grade rivalry.”

“Classic, really.”

You laughed. “Was she okay talking to you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyebrows low on his forehead. “Opened right up.”

“Well, we do know she likes you more.”

He rolled his eyes. “She just likes that I’m not you.”

“Feels like that’s the same thing.”

Quiet for a moment when he angled towards you, scanned your face with his eyes.

“I guess I’ll go say goodnight.”

“Oh, I tucked her in.”

Your mouth tugged into a smirk. “You what?”

“She said she didn’t want you to come in.”

“So you tucked her in?”

He let out a laugh, explained the process like it should have been obvious. “Yeah--pulled up the blanket. Patted her on the head. She said she brushed her teeth.”

You leaned back against the headboard, the same buzzing feeling in your chest took flight when he asked: “why is it so shocking to everyone that I’m good with them?”

It slipped out before you could think of the possible consequences. “Because you’re young.”

“I’m not that young.”

“And Luke was just--not like that. He was pretty disinterested after CeCe was born.” You hoped this was enough of a redirection.

“You’re really caught up on my age, aren’t you?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows and offered a look that said: bullshit. When he didn’t speak, you cracked a joke.

“Or...you are not hung up enough on how old I am.”

“Why should I care how old you are?”

“Cause you’ve had sex with me and you’re living in my house.”

“Both of those things I am aware of. And feel really good about both of them.”

You let out a laugh at his nonchalance, folded your arms over your chest when he stood up. “You’re something else.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed.

“I think you are,” he nodded, leaned closer to you and offered a challenging glare. His hair was messy, he’d been running around in the backyard with them at Shelli and Irv’s, a few glasses of wine in him seemed to loosen him right up to the point that he was ready to slide tackle your six-year-old.

He watched you for a second, almost like he was waiting for you to stop him. You didn’t, though, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as it looked like he wanted to close to the distance between your chests.

Instead of telling him you shouldn’t, instead of telling him that the girls were down the hall and this was risky, you pulled him on top of you, tugged him by the t-shirt until he flopped down on your bed with a laugh against your lips.

He lifted himself up after a clumsy moment, looked down at you and smirked.

“What?” You asked playfully.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on by someone in my whole life.”

His words circled around you, pulled your body up to melt into his when his hand cupped your face. He laced his fingers through the hair along your neck, the warmth from his body made your pulse rise with each second.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this when they’re home?”

If the dimples on his cheeks weren’t enough, if the way his tattoos littered his skin wasn’t enough, if the look in his eyes right now on top of you was not enough to create a full-on mom fantasy in your head, the way he talked about your daughters was.

“Yeah,” you tugged him back against your mouth, felt the way your hips tilted against his without any thought. His hands moved to your wrists, holding them in place when he trailed his lips down your jaw, down your neck, pressing kisses in a line along your collarbone.

His hands were warm when they grazed your hips, connecting with skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. You grasped for the hem of his and tugged it over his head in a quick motion, eager to reconnect and feel his skin against yours.

He tasted like wine and smelled like summer, yanked your panties down to your ankles and used his fingers to pull quiet gasps from you like no one had ever before. He held onto your headboard and thrusted into you after you begged: please, please fuck me.

S’probably my favorite thing to do, he said.

The lights were long off and when your heart beats settled and you wiped sweat from your forehead, he laced his fingers between yours.

“Does Jeff want to kill me?”

“No,” you giggled, turned on your side to get a better look at him. The moon through the window illuminated his nose, his eyebrows, the specks of light green in his eyes as they devoured you. “But I’m sure you’ll get a talking to.”

“Should I not talk to him about it?”

You knew what he was asking, you knew he really meant what am I supposed to tell him? What does this mean?

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know what he should say or how you should address any of this, because at the end of the day you were a mom and a business owner and he was eight years your junior. He had an album to finish and tour and you knew how that worked.

You watched your dad’s busy lifestyle pull his marriage apart at the seams. Late nights, dinner parties, too much coke in the 80s before you were born and all of those signs pointed in one direction: this would never last.

It couldn’t last, nothing about the equation made sense. Harry + you = fling, rebound, a hook up or friends with benefits type situation that would eventually fade into a memory when he went on tour or when he got the call: your house is finished!

You didn’t have to answer him, though, the pattering of feet in the hallway as a little voice shouted mommy! had you shoving Harry out of bed and onto the floor with a thud before CeCe could push the double doors open.

“Mommy! I had a bad dream!”

“Hi, honey, oh, it’s okay,” you were upright in bed and welcoming her into your arms when Harry grimaced in the dark.

He mouthed a few swear words as you held CeCe, squishing her face into your shoulder to keep her eyes from landing on Harry. You gestured at him wildly with your free hand, ordering him to duck down and remain unseen.

“It was just a dream,” you told her, “you’re okay. Do you want me to walk you back to bed?”

“No,” she cried out quickly. “Can I sleep here?”

You hesitated, then nodded and looked at Harry in the dark. “Of course, yes, you can fall asleep here and then I’ll bring you back to your room.”

“Okay,” she said, the steadiness of her voice returning when she crawled out of your lap and to the spot where Harry had just been. She tugged at the comforters, pushed the pillow in different directions before she let her head rest atop it.

She let out a sigh, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and soon enough Harry poked his head up to look at you with wide eyes as you rubbed CeCe’s back.

You held up a finger to your mouth, gave him a threatening glare when he bit back a laugh. You rolled your eyes--it wasn’t funny. She almost walked in on the two of you and while she’d already endured some traumatic things this year, seeing her mom hooking up with the pop star from down the hall would be sure to take the cake.

When Harry caught your gaze again, you smirked, he giggled, clamped a hand over his mouth and watched you for a second.

“Be quiet!”

“You’re the one talking,” he laughed.

“Well she’s asleep now, but we can’t bring her back yet or she’ll wake up.”

“How long do we have to sit like this?”

“A while,” you told him with certainty. “This is called parenting.”

But he did, he sat on the floor on the side of the bed, watched you watch her and eventually, he picked her up from the mattress and followed you down the hall to her room. She softened into him, head on his shoulder and arms around his neck. The sight of it made you want to replay the earlier scene in your head over and over.

She didn’t stir, a few heavy sighs when you pulled the comforter back up to her shoulders, and once the door was shut behind you both, you smirked up at him.

“I think you should go back to your room.”

“Really? After all of that?”

“After almost getting caught by my six-year-old? Yes.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully, crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, but maybe we can do that again at some point and have it end differently.”

You nodded. “I think that sounds doable.”

He leaned forward, kissed you quickly, and then turned to head for his own room. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry came home from his house tour with good and bad news. The plumbing was fixed, which sped up their timeline, and yet the painters and interior decorator had gotten behind because of it, pushing the timeline out a few weeks.

You weren’t sure which part was good and which part was bad, because by now you were having trouble imagining what your house would feel like without him in it.

You got the news when he strolled in, athletic shorts and a baseball hat on his head when Jeff clapped him on the back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, reached into the fridge for a juice box. “I live here…”

“Oh, I know you live here.”

“Hello, hi,” you waved at Jeff. “Please do not be weird.”

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Harry offered you a fake-apologetic look.

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Jeff mocked him. “Actually, I know how to be cool and not weird about the fact that my childhood best friend and my adult best friend-slash-artist are now, you know, involved.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his wording, a quick look in Harry’s direction, sure that he would deny the accusation or play it all down.

You found it hard to believe that Harry would be in support of labeling this as anything. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be tied to you with any sort of label or phrasing or word?

“Moving on,” Harry said with a nod. “Are we down to meet up with Tom and Sam tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and we have to do that phone call on Tuesday to go over tour dates.”

Maeve ran in then, a smile on her face when she looked up at Harry. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I learned a new chord on the guitar. By myself.”

“You did?” He acted way more excited about it than he likely was.

Jeff smiled and then told Maeve: “If you learn enough chords maybe you can be his guitarist.”

“Really?!” She beamed.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Of course you would say that.”

“Maeve--you’re a kid, you can’t go on tour.”

“She’s right,” Harry said with a sweet smile, “You’re a bit too young for life on the road.”

“I’m eleven now, though!”

“I know! And very mature for eleven,” he complimented. “I’ll tell you what. You can for sure come visit and come back stage and maybe even bring a friend if your mother lets you.”

She looked to you quickly, excitement in her eyes when they all waited for your response. “Yeah--we can go at some point...see a show or something.”

“Hayley is going to die, oh my god!” She squealed with delight and then moved to sit at a stool beside Jeff.

He had half a sandwich on a plate, one he picked up on his way over for a boring Sunday afternoon of lounging by the pool. Maeve reached for a chip from the bag in front of him.

“By the way, mom, she invited me over Wednesday after school to work on a project, so can you bring me?”

“I have to bring CeCe to dance, sweetie.”

“Well I need you to bring me to the store to get supplies for this stupid poster-board thing we have to make! And Hayley’s mom said she had a question about Luna--something about a moisturizer or something.”

“I can take CeCe to dance,” Harry shrugged, almost like an onlooker in the room. “S’not a big a deal.”

“Are you sure?”

Jeff and Maeve crunched on chips between you, watching the exchange.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll just need to put her booster seat in my car.”

“And bring her a snack for after--she’s always cranky and hungry.”

He laughed, “I can manage that.”

“What would we do without you, Harry?” Maeve asked, a smile on her face.

Jeff put his chin in his hands, teasing. “Yeah, what would we do without you?”

“No one would get anywhere, people would seriously be missing out on my chicken tacos, and this house would be a lot less fun to live in.”

Maeve nodded in agreement, another chip stolen from Jeff. “True, true, and true.”

A few nights later it dawned on you that Maeve and Harry were as close as ever, spending evenings in your dad’s old office while Maeve tried to wrap her arms around a guitar long enough to strum a few chords.

CeCe didn’t seem to feel too left out, she was more than happy to be an audience for Maeve when she’d come running into the living room: Harry taught me a G chord!

On Tuesday night after school it was CeCe’s idea to go for pizza, she chirped about it in the backseat the entire way home, and after learning that the body wash production was behind schedule, you weren’t in the mood to cook.

You took Harry’s car--showed him how to strap the booster seat in and make sure it wouldn’t budge. He wore a hat and sunglasses which both girls found hilarious, but to you it was almost disheartening. What did it mean for him to be seen out with your family?

He sat beside CeCe and cut her pizza into tiny bites so it would cool off, Maeve sipped Mountain Dew from a straw and filled you in on the latest with Hayley. This week was going well, though Hayley said something annoying in the cafeteria.

It felt normal, not weird for him to be sitting across from you, his feet against yours beneath the table and a smirk in your direction every once in a while.

Both Tristan and Zoey had been dying to hear more details. It slipped out one day in the office that okay...maybe it wasn’t just a one time thing, and now the group chat you had with them was blowing up every day.

They were excited for you, rooting for your comeback and rebound and eager for you to just admit that there was something there. But you weren’t able to do that, especially not when everything in your heart wanted to.

By the time you’d all finished eating, he dipped out the back to pull the car around front. You pointed at Maeve and told her to watch CeCe while you went up to the counter to pay for the pizza.

The woman behind the register smiled when you approached. Long acrylic nails, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes made it obvious that she could have been your mother.

“We had one large plain and one small with pepperoni,” you told her.

“Oh, you’re all set, sweetie, your boyfriend paid on his way out.”

Your head pulled back in surprise. “Oh--he’s--we’re not,”

She let out a laugh at your hesitance. “He was just as taken back when I told him he had a beautiful family--said they're not his, though."

You forced a laugh, if only to match the humor in her voice when you turned on your heels to head back to your booth. The thoughts started spinning when Maeve and CeCe climbed into the back of Harry’s car.

He smiled at you when you slid in, patted you on the thigh before he turned around to make sure both girls were settled--Maeve clicked CeCe’s buckle into place and then he put the car into gear.

Sleeping with Harry was mostly meaningless, right? He was attractive and living in your house and clearly you both got something out of it. Convenient, easy, fun. Most of your brain had you convinced that there’d never be any more to it. There was no way that Harry would be interested in sticking around: two kids, a business to run. You didn’t exactly come with no strings attached.

And he corrected the woman too--not my kids, not my family, not my wife, not my anything. Had she settled on the next step down when she called him your boyfriend, or had he offered the label to avoid an awkward encounter?

It felt immature, your heart beating with urgency as you thought about it the whole way home, beads of sweat along your hairline and not from the warm weather. He sensed it, eyed you from behind his sunglasses when he parked in the driveway. Maeve and CeCe raced to the backyard, leaving the two of you alone.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” you offered a small smile, the same response you gave to one of the girls if they caught you on a bad day.

He followed you inside, kept his eyes trained on you when you dropped your purse on the counter. “What?”

“You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” you lied again. What were you supposed to say? The woman behind the register at the pizza place is making me question the relationship we have and what it means?

You weren’t 17. You were 32. He was 24. All of these numbers swirled in your head when he took a few steps closer to you, eyes out the window quickly to make sure neither of the girls were watching you through the sliding doors.

He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, lips turned down when he looked over your face. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” you caught his wrist and held on for a second, like if you let go he’d disappear and take everything between the two of you with him. You closed your eyes, knew better but still said: “the woman behind the counter called you my boyfriend.”

He let out a laugh, unaware that your words were actually a confession. “She called you my wife, said the girls were cute. I told her I couldn’t take credit.”

“Yeah,” you forced another smile.

“Is that--are you, did that bother you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite sure where your head was at. He pressed a confusing kiss to your forehead but then said something about calling his sister. You checked work emails and night faded into morning like it always did, no matter how uncertain life was, you always had that.

The next afternoon you brought Maeve to Hayley’s, dropped her off with glue sticks and markers and a plethora of project supplies. A yoga class after that, had her home and with dinner on the stove by 6pm.

Eventually, CeCe burst through the door with a smile on her face. Her pink tutu was around her waist, her legs clad in light pink tights and her hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I had the greatest time at ballet!”

You turned around in the kitchen, eager to hear about her day. “You did?”

“I did,” she nodded confidently. Harry came in the front door behind her, sunglasses on his face and CeCe’s unicorn backpack in hand. Maeve was sat at the counter with a pencil, growing angrier with fractions by the minute.

“Why’s that?”

“We danced to a fun song, and we played a fun game, and everyone loved Harry!”

Your eyebrows rose at that, eyes caught his when he lifted the sunglasses. “They did?”

“Moms, not the six-year-olds.”

This caught Maeve’s attention--she sounded almost disgusted. “Moms?”

“I guess ballet pick-up is typically a mom thing?”

You shrugged. “I mean--I don’t see a lot of dads there, so yeah.”

CeCe shimmied out of her tutu and then climbed up to a stool beside Maeve. Harry walked to hang her backpack on a hook by the backdoor, you questioned if it was even worth asking.

“Were they, like, hitting on you?”

“I mean, not really.”

“Not really?”

He walked over to the island and leaned on it, the dimple in his left cheek let you know he liked the hint of jealousy in your voice. “Maybe a little.”

Dinner simmered on the stove, evening sun brought a glow to the kitchen that made his eyes even more green than usual. When you didn’t reply he broke your gaze, let out a sigh and said: “I’m going to shower before dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded quickly, embarrassed by the silliness of your question. Of course the moms were hitting on him, of course they were intrigued by his presence and of course they couldn’t help but say hi or even ask for a photo. It shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest.

He was up the stairs and out of sight quickly, CeCe picked up an extra pencil of Maeve’s and started doodling on her agenda book. You pushed sautéed veggies around in a frying pan and pretended that all of this was normal.

“Hey mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Harry?”

You turned around quickly, Maeve’s eyes were inquisitive but not judgmental.

“Do I like Harry? Of course--he’s nice.”

“No, I mean do you like like Harry?”

CeCe didn’t seem too interested in your answer, she hummed to herself and kicked her feet back and forth. Maeve, though, waited patiently while you tried to piece together words that wouldn’t make the roof blow off of your house.

“Harry and I are friends, sweetie.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You let out a forced laugh. “What is making you ask this?”

“You seemed jealous about the other moms.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you defended. Were you really about to get into it with your eleven-year-old? Would you really defend yourself and make this the hill on which you'd die?

She watched you for a second, looked back down at the worksheet in front of her. “You seemed jealous.”

You were thankful for the fact that she wasn’t making any eye contact now. You let out a sigh and decided that not responding was your best option. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, had it been that obvious? Was she old enough to pick up on the undertones of your relationship?

You turned back to the stove, watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan as your mind started to cave in on itself. All of this was getting out of control, right? First the woman yesterday and the dizziness that overtook you when she said the word boyfriend. Now Maeve sitting at the counter with a curiosity in her that you couldn’t really blame her for.

The doorbell rang, CeCe’s head popped up in excitement. “Who is that?!”

“I don’t know,” you said. She hopped off her stool and took off the door as you followed behind her. You hadn’t planned on a visit from Jeff, maybe Tristan needed last minute approval on a product.

But when CeCe yanked the door open with both hands and an excited smile on her face, you didn’t expect to see Luke, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised high.

“Daddy!”

“Hi sweetie,” he knelt down on one knee, wrapped his arms around her when Maeve made a noise of excitement before rushing over. She crashed into him, pushing her way into their hug.

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly.

“I wanted to visit, I was in the neighborhood,” he said with a shrug, eyes glancing up to you.

It was bullshit, he’d always been good at talking his way out of things or coming up with an explanation, smile sweet and words even sweeter. He backed away from them when they let go, stood back up and smiled at you, a quick nod in greeting.

“How’ve you been?”

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul -- 8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon.

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner.

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks.

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile.

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease.

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.”

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic.

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night.

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement.

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm.

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you.

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?”

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her.

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers.

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

----

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!”

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute.

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart.

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again.

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight.

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number.

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts.

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.”

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above.

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder.

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it.

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers.

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips.

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you.

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house.

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice.

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs.

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio."

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house.

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself.

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her.

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out.

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit.

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy.

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note.

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know.

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

----- La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make.

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away.

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would.

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake.

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself.

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone.

“Come downstairs, please.”

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way.

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left.

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.”

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.”

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her.

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out.

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head.

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies.

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them.

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet.

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…”

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years ago

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The New Girl P2

REAL LIFE COUPLE:TBS X READER RATING: FLIRTY AF

I sat at my vanity doing my hair and my make up to fit my little blue dress dan took a late shift tonight as he didn't want to go to the party, once I finished up I headed down knocking on the door gently and soon enough it was opened to Thomas stood with his hair done, in a black striped button down the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black suit pants and a red belt. "Hey. So happy you could come down. Isn't dan coming?" "Ohh uhh no. Work" I said "Come here." He offered a hug so I took it giving him a tight cuddle as he let me in shutting the door "your first. And you look beautiful" "Aww thank you. You look great too" "Ohh this old thing. Wine for the very beautiful lady?" "Just a small one alright" "A small coming right up. You have to tell me the sort of stuff you drink so I can get some in." "Well… I like rosé" "Ahhh, well as luck would have it" he smirked getting a very impressive bottle from his little set up "you want some?" "Yes please" I blushed "I shall join you. This is a good bottle we shall both enjoy it" he says doing me a glass and handing it over even if it was a little more than I asked for "next round thought I'll do you a mixed something special I promise" he winked having his own glass we chatted as we often did for a little while until he spoke up swirling the last remnants of his glass "why didn't dan really come y/n?" "He's-" "Come on. Seriously" "He didn't want to come. Says he… doesn't really like you that much. So he took a late work shift" "I see. And how do you… feel about that?" "I like you. He's my boyfriend, he can't stop me from hanging out with a friend" I explain "besides he'd take work calls anyway so… maybe it's best him to not be here" "Maybe so. Hey don't worry about it alright you let me worry about him" he says kissing my cheek making me blush bright red the door knocked so he quickly went to answer it and it was rosemary and Guy we all did our greetings and got new drinks sitting around the living room, I sat on one of the two chairs, rosemary and Guy on the sofa and then Thomas across from me in the red leather chair one leg crosses over the other his hand on his face his elbow on the arm of the chair often times staring at me not often adding much to the conversation, Lilly and Steve from upstairs came down and took seats on kitchen chairs as we all talked and drank I admit it was nice not having dan constantly interrupting people for his opinion or his work calls I had a lot of fun it was getting late Lilly and Steve already gone up to there apartment and it was clear rosemary and Guy where not long too, and I had waited long enough to ask "uhh Thomas?" "Yeah?" "Can I use your bathroom?" "Sure sweetheart. Just Thought the bedroom" he told me I nodded getting up and walking through the nice apartment to the bedroom, it was as impressive as I imagined I hurried to the little bathroom, as I had been drinking I really needed it, I cleaned up too washing my hands and checking my make up and such before I headed back out being a little nosy around the bedroom honestly it looked so nice almost like he hadn't actually slept here in a while, I noticed little things, aftershave bottles, pencils, tissues strewn about the place and I noticed in the quiet… as I had left the bedroom door open a crack talking. Not to be surprised I didn't imagine them to stop talking completely when I left the room but this was a little odd. "We are doing our best sir." Guy spoke up odd as he was usually so quiet "Luckily he's done most of it on his own. He's taking them willingly. Make sure… there as inviting as they can be" Thomas spoke up his voice sounded different, deeper, darker, not as sweet as when he spoke with me "Are you sure this time?" She asked "this is our nineteenth" "Do you question, your master?" "No sir!" "Good. I've seen enough come past. I'm sure" he said and I heard gasps "it shouldn't be long." I stepped back into the room and everyone just continued as normal as if I hadn't left, as if… none of what was just discussed had happened. I was confused but I didn't want to pry. Rosemary and Guy left soon after leaving me alone with Thomas still sitting in that chair looking at me "Did you fancy another drink?" "No it's okay. I uhh I should probably get out of your hair" "Hey don't worry about it. You can stay as long as you like" We chatted about everything and nothing for so long it was almost midnight I hadn't heard dan come home but maybe he's late again. "It's been lovely Thomas but I need to get going" "Course don't make me keep you up, you get back and get some sleep" he says "It was really nice we really must do it again sometime" "Yeah we should. I'll make sure to get the nice rosé for you again" he laughs getting my bag for me "uhh y/n. Just before you go" he says taking my hand "Yes?" I asked nervously "I uhh… I got you a little something" he says taking a beautiful little black box with a red ribbon from his pocket "Thomas you didn't-" "Well I wanted to give you something. Now your all settled here" he says "but… how about." He says as he put it in my hand "we keep this. Our little secret? Okay. Maybe dan doesn't need to know about this" "Okay" I blushed nodding slightly "That's my girl" he smiled giving my hand then my cheek a kiss I blushed hard where he kissed me unable to stop staring into those chocolate eyes I tried to look away but he was hypnotizing like I couldn't bare to look away feeling my heart throb in my chest, he glanced at my lips with a slight dark stare quickly he licked his bottom lip slightly, I didn't know what to do but I acted on Impulse and I moved forward kissing his lips, they were soft, he tasted like the rosé we had been drinking as well as the aftershave from his bedroom, he kissed back maybe two kisses before he pulled back resting his forehead on mine "Go on. Get yourself to bed" "Thomas i-" "Shhhh." He whispered hovering over my lips "you've had a few glasses of rosé tonight go on. Get to bed. I'll see you in the morning okay?" "Okay." I nodded leaving his apartment he leaned on the door watching as I took the first step or two up the stairs "Sleep well sweetheart" he smiled blowing me a kiss "Goodnight Thomas" I smiled, blowing him a kiss too before heading up to my apartment.

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 31

A/N: Bubble chapters incoming.....!

July 18th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was getting frappucinos with Kasha.

She was happy she and Kasha were on the same page – that they would get tacos for a late dinner and bring them back to their place to eat. Neither were comfortable with dining in restaurants, even though it was allowed. It just wasn’t something they wanted to do just yet. So they’d take the tacos back to their apartment, sit on their balcony, and have a romantic date night with the frappucinos and – if Aberdeen was being honest – a bottle of rosé between them.

Kasha had to run to an ATM, so Aberdeen was left waiting for the tacos herself. It was a Saturday night, so the streets were somewhat busy – not as busy as they would have been during normal times, but busy enough that it made Aberdeen uncomfortable. What was everybody doing out? Where were they going? Who were they meeting up with? Why weren’t they staying at home? It was all very weird to her. Last summer she wouldn’t have even batted an eye; now, she was hyperaware of the people around her, hyperaware of standing six feet away from the other people ordering tacos, either in line or at the restaurant, and was clutching on to the strap of her bag so her hands didn’t fidget with her mask or touch anything else around her. She was getting tested every day at work, and thankfully she was lucky to have them always come back negative. She was being extra cautious. She didn’t want to—

“Aberdeeeeeen? Is that you?!” a voice suddenly called out from down the sidewalk.

Aberdeen looked to her right to see Saylor walking down the sidewalk with a posse of girls equally as glamourous as she was. Aberdeen looked down at her outfit and gulped. Leave it to Saylor to show up when she was waiting for a boatload of food and in clothes she just threw on to appear presentable in public. “Hey Saylor,” Aberdeen half-waved. More than anything, she was surprised to see Saylor in the city – from what she’d seen on Instagram, Saylor had gone back to Lake Forest during quarantine. Kasperi had joined her.

“You’re wearing a mask outside? I thought you didn’t have to here.”

“I was just inside,” Aberdeen pointed with her thumb to the restaurant. Not that she had to justify wearing a mask anywhere. The world was still in the midst of a fucking pandemic. “Just waiting for my food…and my friend.”

“These are my friends – Gina, Amanda, Jen, and Sadie,” she pointed to each girl. Aberdeen gave them all a quick nod. They couldn’t seem less interested in her. “Girls, Aberdeen works for the Leafs with Kasperi.”

Suddenly, all of their eyes shot forward. “Really?” the one identified as Jen asked. “What do you do?”

“I—I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant,” she revealed reluctantly. She didn’t want to tell these girls anything, let alone her job.

“Kasperi told me you’re going into the bubble next week,” Saylor said before the conversation could go any further.

“I am,” she nodded, hesitating to even confirm the news to Saylor. After their last altercation in Los Angeles, Aberdeen was fine with never seeing her again. She was almost positive Saylor felt the same way, but apparently not.

“He said you’re going to be the only girl in there.”

Saylor was right. Aberdeen would be the only woman in the bubble for the Leafs. She was sure – well, she fucking hoped – that other women from other team staff would be at the hotel too. It would make the experience a lot less fucking awkward, that was for sure. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Saylor’s friend Gina snorted. “We all know what you’ll be used for.”

Aberdeen’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. Now she knew why Saylor didn’t just ignore her and walk by her on the street. She wanted other people to do her dirty work for her. She wanted to re-live what happened in Los Angeles, except this time, it would be five against one.

“Not yet,” Saylor smiled wryly. “Not until she gets her nose job.”

The other girls laughed. Aberdeen narrowed her eyes at Saylor. “I fucking love my big nose, alright?”

“I’m sure you do. That’s very homely of you,” Saylor rolled her eyes. “And I’m warning you now, you better stay away from Kasperi in that bubble.”

Aberdeen snorted out loud. Actually snorted. “Oh my God, is that was this is about?” she asked indignantly. “You’re…Saylor, you’re joking right?”

Saylor didn’t look too pleased that Aberdeen was laughing at her. “Stay away from my boyfriend.”

“I wouldn’t touch your boyfriend with a ten-foot pole. I wouldn’t even touch him wearing a hazmat suit.”

Saylor took a step forward, trying to intimidate her. Aberdeen was laughing too much to care. The whole thing got so ridiculous so quickly that the only thing she could do was laugh. Saylor was completely out to lunch. “It’s so obvious that you’re so jealous of me,” she said.

“Saylor, I don’t even think about you at all.”

“We ready to go? I got our tacos,” Kasha’s voice suddenly interrupted the confrontation. Aberdeen looked behind her to see Kasha holding the bag up slightly, eyeing the situation. Aberdeen wondered how much of the conversation she’d heard. “Who’s this, Aberdeen?”

Aberdeen took a slight step back. “This is Saylor. Kasperi’s girlfriend.”

Kasha nodded once. “Have fun,” she said to the group of girls before linking her free arm around Aberdeen’s. As they took their first step forward, Kasha looked at Aberdeen. “Kasperi? Is that the one that DM’ed me?” she asked. Loudly.

Aberdeen didn’t turn around to see Saylor’s reaction. She didn’t need to. She knew she would have never seen someone turn so red so quickly in her entire life. And as they walked down the street, the wry smile on Kasha’s face grew. “Was that okay?” Kasha asked.

“You’re brilliant,” Aberdeen said. Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing to do – okay, it definitely wasn’t the nicest thing to do – but God did it feel good. Kappy had never DM’ed Kasha before in her life. Aberdeen wasn’t even sure Kappy knew who Kasha was even though he met her at the Halloween party. “I might get a phone call later, but it was brilliant.”

“If you get a phone call, I’ll let them know that she said you weren’t hot enough without a nose job,” Kasha said.

“So you heard that?”

“That’s when I came in. The guy was calling your name and so I grabbed the food and lingered.”

Aberdeen smiled. “I love you, bitch.”

“Love you too, bitch.”

***

Message from: Kasperi Kapanen

I heard u ran into Saylor tonite?

Yes

Why did Kasha say I slid into her DMs?

Must have had to do with the fact that Saylor told me I wasn’t pretty enough for any of you to fuck in the bubble unless I got a nose job.

***

minskatt what did saylor say to u tn?

Nothing important because you love my nose and that’s all that matters

can i call u

No I’m with Kasha

minskatt please

It’s fine Willy I don’t care She’s dumb She thinks I’m jealous of her And she told me to stay away from Kappy in the bubble She thinks I want to sleep with him I mean 🤣

omg

Please don’t worry about it I’ll see you tomorrow

i love u

I love you too I want you to cum down my throat tomorrow Okay?

🥴🥴🥴

***

July 25th, 2020

Aberdeen and William promised each other they would take it slow because they wanted to make the moment last as long as possible.

They were both fully packed. Aberdeen’s suitcase was packed back in her bedroom. A two-month supply of food and cat litter was bought for Minerva so that Kasha wouldn’t have to go get any, just in case the Leafs went all the way (which meant, at the end of August, she’d be getting on a plane to Edmonton, too). She had organized outfits – work and casual. She made sure to bring entertainment. The Louis Vuitton duffel bag they all got her for her birthday definitely came in handy. William had packed some clothes and shoes. Made sure to pack the basic necessities. He’d texted guys on the team to see what they were bringing in so he didn’t forget anything. He wasn’t the best packer.

Now, all that was left was to spend time together before they couldn’t anymore.

William didn’t want to go straight into sex. There was no point. The sex was great but what he wanted, more than anything, was intimacy – to be able to hold Aberdeen and feel her body pressed up against his; to be able to take in her scent as he always did and be calmed by it as he always was; to be able to bury his face in the crook of her neck and graze his lips along her skin there so delicately it made her shiver; to whisper ‘I love you’ over and over again to her while “Quitting You” by the Arkells played on a constantly loop quietly in the background of their time together. This is what he would miss. Florida was different – they were a country away from each other, and it was hard. But to have her working with them, in the same bubble, while everyone was around, on the same floor, and not be able to get her alone, go to her hotel room, even hold her hand? It would be torture.

He laid his head on her chest, hearing and feeling her heart beat as she ran her fingers through his hair. His arms were wrapped tightly around her and buried underneath her – he was sure the circulation would cut off soon but he didn’t care. He closed his eyes, and pictured them holding hands. Openly. Aberdeen was smiling. He pulled her into him and kissed her. They were in the team locker room.

“What are you thinking about?” Aberdeen’s soft voice broke the silence.

“You,” he said simply. “Us.”

“What about us?” she asked.

“Holding your hand,” he said. “Kissing you in the locker room.”

When he shifted his head to look up at her, she was smiling. “Do you hate me because we can’t?”

He shook his head. “I could never hate you, minskatt. You know that.”

“It’ll happen soon. I promise,” she said. “You won’t have to do anymore waiting.”

“Shhhh…” he cooed, moving up and nuzzling his nose against her jawline. “I’m not waiting for anything when you’re here with me, am I?” he asked, placing the lightest of kisses on her jawline.

Aberdeen sighed happily. “When I write my first book, I’m dedicating it to you. It’s gonna say ‘For William, for waiting’,” she said with a slight chuckle.

He chuckled too. “I look forward to it. Your second book can be dedicated to Siena or Cam or your parents.”

“Second book? I’m writing a second book, am I?” she smiled.

“Mhm,” he nodded her. “You’re gonna write a bunch of books, minskatt. And they’re all gonna be amazing, and you’ll be all literary or whatever, and everybody’s gonna buy your books.”

Her heart was growing a thousand sizes. “You think so?”

“I know so. You’re gonna be a famous writer, minskatt. I’ll just be in the background.”

She curled around and shifted her body into his. Their lips came together tenderly as they began kissing each other, Aberdeen slipping her tongue into William’s mouth easily. His hands wandered down her body to cup her ass before he helped her hook her leg over his torso. They lay kissing for a while until their lips were red and swollen and their breathless gasps the only sound they could hear in the room. When William pulled away quickly to take a breath, Aberdeen shifted to lay on her back. “Willy?” she asked, her voice breathless.

“Minskatt?”

“Make love to me, Willy. One last time before the bubble.”

He picked her up and brought her to his bedroom, setting her down on the bed gently before crawling over her body and continuing their kissing. With some trusty hands, William’s hoodie was off, then Aberdeen’s top, then Aberdeen’s pants, then William’s pants. He kissed down her body, but she pulled him back up. “Willy—”

“Minskatt—”

“I just need to feel you inside me, Willy. Please.”

Somewhat reluctantly, he kissed his way back up her body, paying attention to her breasts for a while before he put on a condom and she wrapped her legs around him and he entered her slowly. Everything was so slow and gentle and intimate, and he’d buried his face into the crook of her neck again to kiss the skin there. When he came back up and looked at her, it was very clear to him that there were tears welling in her eyes. His mind immediately went into overdrive and his body seized up. “Aberdeen? Aberdeen why are you crying?”

“I’m not – no – no no no, it’s not you, it’s not you,” she let out quickly, cupping his face in her hands. His entire body had stopped moving as he hovered over here. She felt a few tears escape down the sides of her eyes, powerless to stop them. “It’s just me. It’s me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just love you so much,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “You believe in me, Willy.”

“Of course I believe in you. I’ll always believe in you. Where is this coming from?”

“It was Florida. Sixty-one days away from you,” she explained. “Now in the bubble we’re going to be together but we can’t be together, and I want you to know how much I love you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” he nodded.

“Whatever happens in the bubble, I believe in you and I’ll always believe in you like you believe in me,” she said.

William’s heart panged at her statement. He craned his head to continue to kiss her, and she could feel tears – not her own – on her cheeks as well. His slow and steady movements, passionate and thorough and pleasurable all at once, reminded her of that love they just spoke of. They made love with everything they had in them. And when they climaxed, and William collapsed on top of Aberdeen’s body, she held him close to her, unwilling to let him go.

He shifted slightly to move out of her, but she tightened her legs around him. “No,” she pleaded. “Stay. I want to feel you inside me for as long as possible.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please Willy,” she almost begged, although she knew she wouldn’t have to. “Stay. Let’s just stay like this.”

***

July 26th, 2020

Aberdeen’s family had made it to the staff send-off before they went into the bubble. Camden and Siena came along too. Camden made her a card and gave her a crossword puzzles book he’d bought her at Indigo. When Siena hugged her, she said “Make good choices!” jokingly. Their parents would always say it to them before they got out of the car when they were driven to parties or the like.

If Siena only knew.

Once her family left, Aberdeen had the fantastic tasks of preparing the buses and organizing significant others to be far enough away from each other so everyone was still social distancing. Everybody’s significant other was there, save for the single guys like Auston and (to everyone else) William. As she stood off to the side, she couldn’t help but watch.

Bee McTavish was crying. She wasn’t wailing loudly or anything like that, but Aberdeen could see her glistening cheeks from her tears as Morgan couldn’t stop kissing her and she couldn’t stop wiping her eyes. He looked pretty torn up about leaving her, too. She knew all the guys would be. They were excited to play hockey again but they weren’t too sold on the concept of the bubble. Everyone was going to hate being away from their families – Bee and Morgan were no exception. “Call me whenever you want to,” Aberdeen overheard her tell him. “And if a single thing starts to hurt you please don’t play. You need to be healthy, Morgan.”

Frederik Andersen and Aleida Casillas couldn’t stop kissing, either. Aleida was getting emotional, although Aberdeen knew that Aleida didn’t want to show it. Fred’s new wedding ring glistened in the light. Aberdeen could only imagine what it was like to leave your wife on your one-month anniversary.

Jace was giggling at his dad’s kisses. John had spent the last five minutes holding and kissing his baby boy, with Aryne smiling and cuddling them too. Aberdeen could see Aryne’s small bump peeking out through her t-shirt and realized John was going into the bubble while his wife was pregnant and having to take care of a one-year-old. Her heart ached. She saw the smile on John’s face as he cooed at his son and Jace kept repeating “Dada” over and over again and she could feel a rush of emotion flood her face.

When she saw that Jason had his four girls in a giant bear hug, Aberdeen had to hold in a giant sob. He was crouching down at their level, kissing them all multiple times and whispering things to them as Jen looked on, looking like she was on the verge of tears herself. Jason wouldn’t let them go – couldn’t let them go. Aberdeen had to look away so she didn’t start crying right then and there. It was too much for her to think about.

“You okay, Aberdeen?” Auston’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she whipped her head towards him.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying not to think about the scenes she just saw. “Do you need me to pack your bag in the bus?” she asked.

“I’m not gonna make you pack my bag, Aberdeen,” he said like it was the most absurd thing in the world.

Aberdeen looked at Auston, but could only see right past him. Behind him, she could see Kappy and Saylor saying their goodbyes. Saylor was hugging Kappy but giving Aberdeen a death stare. Aberdeen focused her attention back on Auston. “How much does Saylor hate me?” she asked.

Auston shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I don’t talk to her anymore. But from what I hear, a lot.”

“Good to know. What have you heard? Because she thinks I want to sleep with Kappy.”

Auston smiled. “Something like that.” Aberdeen rolled her eyes playfully, smiling back at Auston. “For what it’s worth, she thinks everybody wants to sleep with Kappy,” Auston said. “You know, because he’s just so good looking.”

“You ready for the bubble?” Saylor’s voice suddenly surprised them from behind Auston. Because of their conversation, they hadn’t seen her approach. Auston jumped slightly. He noticed that Saylor was staring directly at Aberdeen.

“As ready as we can be, I think,” Aberdeen said.

“Just remember what I told you!” Saylor said in a playful tone. “Stay six feet away from my boyfriend!”

“Just for you, Saylor, I’ll make it ten,” Aberdeen winked. “I’ll put a pole between us if that’d what you prefer.”

***

There were cameras everywhere covering their arrival. Naturally, of course, since they were the Toronto Maple Leafs. Aberdeen only hoped that she wasn’t caught in any of the photos. She’d already had enough of a time with her identity and stalkers showing up outside her apartment. She didn’t need people to be lingering outside of the bubble gates for her as well.

They checked in. Everything was eerie. They could only go up the elevators two at a time with their suitcases after they got their welcome packages and key cards. Aberdeen was situated at the first room to the right side of the elevators. The equipment staff, trainers, doctor, and coaches were in the wing as well. Kyle and Brendan had their rooms opposite each other at the very end of the hallway. The social media person was across from her. A few more of the equipment guys were on “her” side of the hallway. To the left of the elevators were the team rooms. William was the second room in, in the middle between Auston and Mitch. Jason was in the middle of the hallway. She knew these things because – as the executive assistant to perhaps the most important executive there – she got a copy of the room allocations and floorplan.

When she walked into her room, it was set up like any normal, swanky hotel room. There was a queen-sized bed and a big, beautiful window that looked directly out onto the CN Tower. The bathroom was big and immaculate. Things were practically shining. She hauled her suitcase onto the bed before going to the window to push the curtains open. If she was going to have a view of the city, she was going to milk it for all it was worth.

When she walked back to her bed, something on the nightstand caught her eye, and she walked over to it. Once she realized what they were, her breath hitched in her throat. She didn’t know who was responsible for this. But it made her so emotional. There were three frames with pictures in them, each more sentimental than the last. In the first frame, there was a mashup of two pictures: one of she and Siena when Siena attended the game in Ottawa, and one of she and Camden when Camden visited right before lockdown. The second picture was the group shot of the outdoor practice, where she was freezing her butt off but having the time of her life. The third, and perhaps the one that hit her the most, was a picture from the Night With the Blue and White. In it, she was posing for a picture with Brendan, Jason, and William, with a champagne flute in her hand. Her smile took up half her face.

She let out a sob.

It wasn’t that she looked so happy. It wasn’t that she could still remember the way William smelled that night. It wasn’t how less than ten hours after the picture was taken, she and William had sex and admitted they wanted to be in a secret relationship. It wasn’t that they had followed through with that promise now for months. It was that the picture depicted normalcy. Her job. Brendan. Jason. William. It depicted life before masks, before social distancing, before hand sanitizer being more readily available than water, before lining up outside of grocery stores. It depicted a life that seemed so far in the past. Giant gathering. Group photos. Seeing someone teeth when they smiled. Putting your arms around another person for a hug.

Now, she found herself alone in a hotel room, within an artificially created bubble, for a hockey team, with no physical contact with the outside world. Nothing about this was normal. Nothing.

***

William decided to call Aberdeen. Everybody was holed up in their rooms unpacking everything they bought, and the hotel was eerily quiet for so many people staying in it. He figured it was because the hotel was old, and its walls were solid – none of this new construction, shitty craftsmanship. These building was built by fucking donkeys, as evidence by the photographs in the lobby. Donkeys and stone; so these walls were thick. Some of the boys had checked up on him to make sure his PlayStation set up had gone smoothly. It did. But William could care less.

“Hello?” Aberdeen answered her phone.

He could immediately tell she’d been crying. “What’s wrong, minskatt?”

“These damn pictures they put up in my room,” she admitted immediately – no need to beat around the bush. “They framed the one we took with Jason and Brendan during the Night With the Blue and White.”

William understood completely how and why that would affect her. “Yeah, I get it. They put a bunch of pictures of my family. Well, my parents and my sisters.”

“No Alex?”

“He’s too ugly to be in a picture,” William deadpanned. He heard Aberdeen snort slightly on the other end. He found solace in the fact that he was able to make her laugh. “The pictures really got to you, huh?”

“It wasn’t just that,” she said. “Just seeing all the families say goodbye to each other. I watched John say goodbye to Jace and it made me emotional, but then I saw Jason saying goodbye to his girls and I absolutely lost it,” she revealed. “I kept it together for the bus ride but the second I got in here and saw these pictures, it was, like, a tidal wave.”

“How can I make it better?” William asked. He knew this would be hard on her – being in the bubble – and although he cautioned against it, Aberdeen made her own decision at the end of the day, and he respected that. It didn’t mean the bubble experience would be any better for her, but at least she made the decision herself and she came into it knowing what she was getting herself into. Aberdeen wasn’t a stupid girl. Far from it.

“You wanna just stay on the phone with me? So I can hear your voice?” she asked timidly.

“Of course,” he answered, equally as softly. She could practically see and feel his smile through the phone. “Want to practice your Swedish with me, minskatt?”

***

July 27th, 2020

“A girl?!”

Aberdeen’s ears turned red as she heard the gasp from behind her near the conference room where the Leafs were designated to eat all their meals. She was apparently a novelty. Because they had to stay holed up in their hotel rooms for most of the day, unless it was a pre-planned excursion or meal, she hadn’t seen any other women. It was awful. And now this.

She looked behind her as discreetly as she could. She saw two men – boys – wearing New York Islanders t-shirts staring at her. She recognized them immediately as Mat Barzal and Anthony Beauvillier. She glared at them.

“Is she here delivering the food?”

“She has a badge, you idiot.”

“You’re telling me she works for the team and they brought her into the bubble?”

She wanted to scream at them. But she didn’t have to. Kyle Dubas appeared out of nowhere right beside her, clutching a coffee and a banana. “Miss Bloom,” he greeted her formally, and loud enough so Mat and Anthony could hear. “Shanahan is going to need those CORSI stats for Matthews and Tavares after we eat.” He glanced at them quickly. “Boys,” he nodded a greeting.

They scurried away.

Aberdeen looked at Kyle. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Does Shanny really need those CORSI stats?” she asked.

“No,” Kyle shook his head. “I said that so they wouldn’t fuck with you.”

***

July 28th, 2020

Aberdeen was waiting for the exhibition game to start. Yet again, she was experiencing her second exhibition game for a hockey team she never thought she would work for, let alone for this long. She was in their usual box with Kyle and Brendan, but it felt different. No fans. No other personnel. The only other people around were the extra players sitting in the seats below them. The media was around somewhere, but nowhere near her. The boys were warming up on the ice.

“You okay?” Brendan asked as he looked at her.

Aberdeen nodded. “Are you?”

“As okay as I can be,” he shrugged. “I don’t get nervous about exhibition games.”

“Did you think I’d be here long enough for two sets of exhibition games?” Aberdeen asked, wiggling her eyebrows slightly.

He huffed, giving her a joking look. She began giggling. “To be honest…no.”

“Yeah, me neither. Don’t worry.”

***

Thirty-three seconds into the first period, Ilya Mikheyev scored off a pass from John Tavares that Aberdeen had seen one hundred times in training camp. She smiled wide.

Hockey was back.

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

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I Will Never Do You Wrong (Gottrosenali) - Writworm42

A/N: Yet another aftercare installment! I wanted to showcase aftercare with more than one sub, since every individual has their own routine and in a poly dynamic three or more people are bound to have different needs at the same time--but that doesn't mean they can't be met!

I also wanted to show that doms need aftercare too, whether it's a quick cigarette to calm down, reassuring words from their sub(s), or something else entirely. Aftercare is not just dom-takes-care-of-sub; it's a mutual activity of all parties supporting each other.

Thank you Holtz so so so much for beta-ing even though you're so busy today, you're a rock star binch <3

Title from Lay It All On Me from Carole & Tuesday.

TW FOR SMOKING.

Rosé isn’t really sure when they started the aftercare ritual they currently have, whose idea it was. If it could even be pinned down to one tangible idea at all. It might have just popped up one day, if Rosé really thinks about it, or maybe it had just been a collection of things that worked, a hodge-podge that just fell into place over time.

Either way, whenever he, Mik, and Denali finish a scene, it tends to go like this: he rolls Denali up tight into a blanket-burrito, opens the door for Donut to hop into bed and keep him company, then goes out for a cigarette. And when he goes out, Mik inevitably follows.

“C’mere, baby, that’s it,” Rosé stretches out on the deck chair they keep out on the balcony, patting his lap to beckon Mik over as he fishes his pack and lighter out of the hoodie he always throws over himself after scenes. It belonged to Denali once upon a time, a fact that comforts Rosé whenever he wears it. His boyfriend’s scent has long faded from the fabric, true, but every time Rosé snuggles into the garment, he swears he can feel his lover holding onto him, the memory of Denali’s skin woven into every fibre. Especially now when Denali is still inside, not keen on inhaling the smell of burning tobacco, choosing instead to snuggle up with Donut and wrap up tight in a blanket for comfort while he waits for the other two to return.

Mik climbs on top of Rosé as he lights up his cigarette, the smoke burning into his lungs on his first drag. This, too, had been a random discovery; Mik had one day just realized that the smell of cigarette smoke grounded him, and so he had begun to lie on Rosé during the older man’s post-scene smokes, closing his eyes against the scent while he breathed to and focused on the rhythm of Rosé’s deep, smooth breaths. It’s cute, and sweet, and Rosé can’t help but notice how small Mik looks like this. He’s utterly precious, his slender fingers curled to hold onto Rosé-but-Denali’s hoodie and long lashes fluttering as his blue eyes gain clarity with every breath that comes in through his nose and out through lips bruised with love bites. Body fitting exactly into Rosé’s, barely taking up the width of his chest or length of his legs.

It makes Rosé feel protective, in a way, reminds him that he’d do anything for the man who’d placed his trust in Rosé, who feels safe enough with him to feel soothed curling up in his lap after having his ass beat and being overstimulated within an inch of his life just moments ago.

He finishes up his cigarette and taps Mik to signal for him to get up, lacing their fingers together as he leads him back into their room, over to the bed where Denali is still waiting. It’s always a toss-up, at this point in their routine, whether Denali is asleep already or not, but Rosé gets his answer as soon as Donut perks up at the sound of him and Mik padding back into the room. Denali turns over to greet them with a dopey smile on his face, eyes open and sparkling with happiness at seeing his lovers return.

“You okay, baby?” Rosé climbs up onto the bed with Mik in tow, chuckling a little when Donut leaps to greet him.

“Uh-huh,” Denali yawns, wiggling out of his cocoon to join Rosé in scratching Donut’s tummy, their dog looking as blissed out as Denali does right now. But that doesn’t mean everything is resolved; there’s still one last part of their routine that Rosé can’t neglect, because for him, it’s the most important.

Making sure both Mik and Denali are okay physically, that they’re fed and watered and nothing will ache later on.

He opens their bedside table and tosses both of them the protein bars he always insists they eat after a scene, just to make sure their blood sugar doesn’t drop, then heads to the kitchen to get them both glasses of water. Today’s scene was relatively light; he could tell just looking them up and down that there were no bruises or red marks, and they didn’t seem particularly sweaty or fatigued. Still, it’s important to him--knowing they’re not hurt, that he hasn’t neglected them. That even when he’s spanking them or wrapping his hands around their necks, they’re safe and taken care of. That they know he loves them, that he doesn’t violate their trust to be good to them.

That he’s not a bad dom, not a bad partner.

Not a bad person.

When he comes back into the room, Mik and Denali are both munching away at their snacks, Denali’s head resting on Mik’s shoulder while the younger strokes a soothing hand through his hair. It’s a heartwarming sight, at least until Mik looks up at Rosé and his eyes instantly narrow.

“Where’s yours?”

Rosé pauses, taken aback by the question. He had been so busy taking care of Mik and Denali, he hadn’t even realized how his cigarette had left his mouth dry, or how he was kind of tired, actually. How he felt a little light-headed himself, like the adrenaline of domming had taken all his energy with it when it had left.

Oops.

“You gotta take care of yourself too, angel,” Mik sighs gently. “Here, give me the glasses, go get yourself some water and grab a snack, too. You look like you could use one.”

“But--”

“We’re okay, Rosie,” Denali lifts his head up, face serious despite the soft reassurance in his voice, “Promise. We’ll be here when you get back, we won’t even move.”

Sure enough, when Rosé trudges back into the bedroom, water in one hand and granola bar in the other, Mik and Denali are exactly as he left them. Or at least, almost; instead of on top of the covers, Denali and Mik are now under them, and when they catch sight of Rosé, Denali instantly straightens up and shuffles to the side, clearing room for him.

“C’mere, babe,” Denali smiles gently, beckoning Rosé over with a pat to the empty, Rosé-shaped space beside him. “Time for us to take care of you now, ‘kay?”

He climbs in without protest, his whole body becoming heavy and relaxed the minute he takes his place between his two lovers, pulling up the blankets to spoon with them comfortably.

“You take such good care of us, Rosie,” Denali whispers as he plants a kiss on the older man’s forehead. “We love you so much.”

“We really, really do,” Mik confirms, squeezing Rosé a little tighter.

Rosé sighs contently, his eyes fluttering closed as he returns, “I love you guys, too.”

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #gottmik #rosé #denali x gottmik x rosé #aftercare #fluff #poly #s13 #canon compliant #writworm42

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years ago

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The Apartment: part 8

▪️for parts 1-7, click here

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x fem! reader

rating/warnings: swearing, drinking

synopsis: You knew that living with your three best friends, Kuroo, Oikawa, and Bokuto, would be a wild ride. It’s never a dull moment with those three. Let’s just hope you can keep your huge crush on Kuroo a secret when he is only a room away.

a/n: hi friends!! so this is going to be the second to last part :(( thank you again for all the love on this 💛 [this part is a little less fluffy so sorry about that, I’ll make up for it tho :) ] the taglist is still open for the last part of you’d like to be added, and my inbox is still open for requests :) okay, enjoy xx 🌸

•

eight: forever

The rest of the week felt like a dream. Each morning, Kuroo would wake you with a shower of kisses and have you wrapped up in his arms. You couldn’t believe that this was your life now, that after years of chasing after this boy, he was yours. You did still tease Kuroo a lot that if he had just told you he felt the same, you two could have saved some precious time. Still, you were happy enough to call him yours.

“Do you know around what time they’ll be getting here?” you asked. Oikawa and Bokuto were finally coming back from their little trips today. You and Kuroo were just organizing the apartment before they arrived.

“Bokuto texted me and he said they should be here in about 5 minutes,” explained Kuroo. You nodded. You missed your friends dearly. Though things around the apartment might be a little different now that you and Kuroo were together, you would all figure it out.

You went to sit on the couch as you waited for Oikawa and Bokuto. Kuroo joined you, putting his arm around you. You rested your head on his chest.

“I love you, you know that right?” he said. You looked at him and smiled.

“I love you too, you know that right?” you kissed his cheek. Kuroo moved your legs to rest on his, his hand on your thigh.

“I can’t wait to see Bokuto and Oikawa’s reaction to us,” said Kuroo. You chuckled.

“I have a feeling they aren’t going to mind.”

*Knock Knock*

You jumped up from Kuroo’s lap so fast and rushed over to the door.

“HEY HEY HEY!” You jumped into Bokuto’s arms instantly.

“Um hey I’m here too,” pouted Oikawa. Kuroo gave Oikawa a hug.

“We missed you too,” smiled Kuroo. Bokuto set you down and you went over to Oikawa.

“I missed you so much Toru!” Oikawa’s eyes widened.

“Toru? No shittykawa, no flattykawa?” You laughed.

“You just got back so I won’t insult you just yet,” you joked. Kuroo wrapped his arms around your waist. Oikawa and Bokuto looked at each other, then back at you and Kuroo.

“Wait...did you guys…?” Began Bokuto before he trailed off. You looked at Kuroo and smiled. Kuroo nodded. Bokuto and Oikawa pulled the two of you into a hug.

“FINALLY YES YES!” cheered Bokuto . The four of you bounced up and down in your silly group hug.

“I swear if I had to watch Y/N drool over Kuroo for one more day I would have moved out,” said oikawa, breaking from the hug. You hit his arm.

“Oh shut up,” you groaned. Kuroo kissed your head.

“Yeah not like she could be any more obvious,” he joked. You rolled your eyes.

“Okay okay we get it.”

“No,” protested Bokuto. You sighed

“Please Bo! It will just make things easier.”

“I am not sharing a room with Oikawa,” he pouted.

“Hey you should be honored to share a room with me!” huffed Oikawa.

“Bokuto think about it, do you really want me sneaking into Kuroo’s room every night? It will just be easier if we switch rooms.”

“Why don't you just keep it in your pants instead?” muttered Oikawa. Kuroo gave him a glare.

“If you switch rooms with me, I’ll make barbecue for dinner tonight,” you proposed. Bokuto’s eyes lit up.

“Deal.”

Life in the apartment was never better. You finally got yourself moved into Kuroo’s room and as much as Bokuto and Oikawa would never admit it, they were having so much fun sharing a room. It was like a slumber party everyday with those two.

Your full year in the apartment was almost finished. School kept you busy but so did your roommates and boyfriend. Those three never failed to put a smile on your face. Every day was filled with its own mini adventure. Whether it was working out with Bokuto, having a spa day with Oikawa, or a date with Kuroo, you loved every bit of it. (You and Kuroo even went on a few double dates with Calie and AJ).

The four of you were snuggled up on the couch. It was ‘self care’ night as Oikawa liked to call it. So you sat on Kuroo’s lap, tying his hair up with a little hair tie, and applying a bright blue face mask on him.

“Why does this smell like an orange?” he asked.

“Maybe because it’s a citrus face mask idiot” replied Oikawa. You chucked. You, Oikawa, and Bokuto already had your masks on.

“I have the bubbly!” cheered Oikawa, holding his favorite rosé. You sighed.

“I still wonder why we let you buy that,” you joked. Oikawa began to pour four glasses.

“Hey, this rosé brought you and the nerd together after all so I think we should be grateful,” he handed you a glass.

“I wouldn’t go that far…” mumble Kuroo. You laughed and gave him a quick peck.

“Doesn’t matter to me how we got together, just that we did,” you smiled.

“Gross,” muttered Bokuto. Kuroo playfully hit his arm.

“Okay okay, cheers?” said Oikawa. The four of you held your glasses up and clinked them together.

“Okay so what are we watching?” You asked, turning on the TV.

“‘Gilmore Girls’!”

“‘Unsolved Mysteries’!”

“‘Sports Center!’”

You looked at your friends and laughed.

“I’m picking then.” You decided on ‘Grease’ to keep with the theme of ‘self care’ night.

After about 20 minutes, you all washed your face masks off. Bokuto was very pleased with how ‘bright’ his complexion looked.

“Bokuto you've never looked better!” said Oikawa.

“Thank you! Wait…”

The four of you went back to the living room, this time you and Kuroo cuddled together on the loveseat while Bokuto and Oikawa shared the couch.

“Have you checked the mail recently?” You asked. Kuroo pointed to the kitchen table.

“Everything should be there,” he explained. You went over and grabbed the small bundle of letters, scanning through them. One of the letters caught your attention.

“Hey guys, this ones from the landlord,” you said. You opened up the letter and began to read it.

“What’s it say babe?” asked Kuroo.

“We need to send in our request to renew our lease by the end of the week,” you explained. When you all decided to rent out your apartment, you only signed a one year lease, unsure how things would go.

“Well uh...we haven’t really talked about that stuff yet,” said Oikawa. You moved to sit with Kuroo again, showing him the letter.

“Do we really want to talk about this now? Seems like a kinda serious topic,” whispered Bokuto. Oikawa sighed.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you guys but...Iwa asked me if I wanted to move in with him for our last year. His roommate transferred so he has the room,” explained Oikawa. Your heart dropped.

“Yeah Akaashi suggested that I move in with him for next year too, since I’ll be staying with him after graduation anyway,” said Bokuto. You shook your head, trying to process their words.

“Wait so you all want to move out for our last year?”

“We don’t know if we actually will yet...it’s just an option,” whispered Oikawa.

“But if just one of us moves out, this place is too expensive and we won’t be able to pay,” you sighed.

“Y/N calm down a bit…”

“I am calm! I’m just trying to understand why you guys would want to move out for our last year?” You felt your eyes starting to water. Kuroo gently started to rub your back.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay. Oikawa and I aren’t even sure if we will be moving out. It was just an idea-“

“Well I don’t like this idea!” You cried. The boys were quiet.

“How-How can you guys just leave? What happens during our senior year then? What if we don’t have classes together? What about after graduation? We are just supposed to part our ways? If you guys move out then I’ll never see you again!”

Tears were streaming down your face before you even realized it. Bokuto and Oikawa squeezed next to you on the loveseat.

“Hey Y/N, of course you’ll see us again. But you know we weren’t all gonna live together forever, right?” said Oikawa. You sighed.

“I know but...you guys are the only family I have. I-I’m not ready to just let you leave me just yet,” you sobbed. Kuroo brought you to his chest.

“No one is leaving anyone Y/N. We are still your family, that’s never gonna change. Just because we might not all live together doesn’t mean we won’t all be together,” said Kuroo. Oikawa and Bokuto joined Kuroo in giving you a right hug.

“I just...I just want you guys to be happy,” you murmured, “so I guess if moving out makes you happy, then you should.”

“We are happy. This is just about our future, after college, you know?” said Bokuto. Kuroo wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Will you live with me?” You asked Kuroo. He chuckled.

“I was planning on it silly.” Kuroo kissed the top of your head.

“Yeah we can’t third and fourth wheel forever,” laughed Bokuto. You gave him a small smile.

“Hey now, Y/N, don’t tell me you’ll actually miss me?” joked Oikawa.

“I’ll miss you least of all shittykawa,” you laughed. Oikawa smiled.

“We can talk about this later okay guys? Let’s just enjoy the movie,” suggested Bokuto. You nodded.

The four of you stayed crammed into the loveseat, enjoying each other’s closeness.

“I love you guys,” you said. The boys looked at you.

“We love you too.”

Kuroo kissed your cheek.

“But I love you most of all, okay?”

You smiled. “Okay.”

•

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @lilnuances @tetsoleil @cloudswritings @foxyyychan @tamaguchi @jessie9008 @bitandbytes @yeehawnana @166cm @bigchaosenergy @tumbledor3 @captain-janeway @answer-the-sirens @simpletype @ysatrap @stinkybitch1919 @starry-magicshop @graykageyama @keomoon @freyafolkvangr @myherotrashbin @anejuuuuoy @amgoldena @aisawa-reo @moonlightaangel @cremeandstrawberries ]

#willow.🌸#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq #hq kuroo #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #haikyuu kuroo #the apartment.🌸#kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurō #Bokuto #oikawa tōru

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gemma-lemma · 4 years ago

Text

Flaming Hearts - A Nalu Fanfiction

Chapter One

“Yes, yes, exactly like that, Miss Lucy. Perfect!” The photographer cheered, changing his own position with every picture he took. Lucy was currently in a studio, white linen behind her and giant lights in front of her to cast the perfect scenery for the beautiful dress she was displaying: a dark red one, that was bound in a chokehold around her neck and had a high slit on each thigh. She wore high heels in the exact same shade of red and translucent white gloves that reached up to her upper arms, but no jewellery. The photographer had decided that Lucy’s own beauty was already splendid enough. She had just giggled and told him to stop making her blush.

“And now put a hand on your hip! Pout! Smile! Squat down! Perfect, Miss Lucy. You are fantastic!”

She might have looked good, but Lucy still felt like she was a mannequin in a showcase. She didn’t really like the photo shootings for all the magazines, though she enjoyed wearing the new dresses. She would much rather have met her friends for a cup of tea or simply read a book today, since it was Sunday, but her father had insisted on her to go. He said it was good for publicity, and Lucy knew that every time he spoke of publicity any fight from her side was useless.

Jude Heartfilia was a businessman, after all. As the head of the great Heartfilia Konzern, a company that produced and distributed all kinds of chemical products, from medicine over skin care to make up, he had little time for his family, which in this place consisted of just Lucy. Her mother had died years before, and Lucy just couldn’t shake the feeling that her death was part of the reason why her father avoided her company so much and would rather work every waking minute. After all, she looked exactly like her mother Layla. Same big brown eyes, glowing blonde hair, curvy figure. It was genetics, really, though Lucy made sure to support those lucky genes with a healthy diet and lots of exercise.

»One last dress, Miss Lucy. We’re almost done.” The photographer announced and she went back to her room to get changed. That was part of the deal they had made. Lucy stood model for the dresses, but she would still get her privacy while getting changed. She had never liked to get changed in front of others, not even the maids who would help her into the complicated dresses for her father’s parties, so it was a relief that she could do it by herself here.

The new dress was of a light rosé colour, with a heart shaped décolleté and reaching down to her shins. The bodice was tight around her chest until her waist, and changed then to a flowing skirt embroidered with beautiful flowers and butterflies. It was more comfortable than the red one, though the high heeled sandals that came with it were anything but that.

“I’m ready.” She called, and a girl entered to change her make up from the darker tones for the red dress to lighter ones that suited the light one. She also changed her hair into a half-up-half-down style and curled the flowing locks with a curling iron.

“Here you go, beautiful as always.” The girl smiled, and Lucy smiled back. The last dress took the longest to photograph, probably because it suited her the best, much to her dismay. She had been sick of modelling already when they were only at the second dress.

When the shooting was finally over, and Lucy had changed back into her own black shirt and red skirt, combined with a pair of black over knees and a red purse, the photographer held her up one last time, shaking her hand enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much for coming today, Miss Lucy. I’m really looking forward to the article The Sorcerer Weekly will write. Hopefully, we will have once again the pleasure of working together!” He chattered cheerfully, but even though Lucy gave him a nod and a polite smile, she couldn’t share his enthusiasm. The Sorcerer Weekly might have been a big number regarding celebrities and business people, but when it came to women their portraits were rather sexist. They wrote about their skin care routines or what their secrets for their perfect bodies were, which wasn’t a wrong thing to do, but still quite annoying when it was the only thing they wrote about women when at the same time they asked men about the secrets to their success or what they would recommend young businesspeople to boost their own businesses.

Photoshoots like that always drained her and she couldn’t quite comprehend what could be so interesting about her showing off dresses she would never wear again. She had a great body, so what? So had countless other women. It wasn’t even an achievement, just lucky genetics. That was what she disliked the most, wasn’t it? Everyone cared for her beauty and her seemingly perfect body, but nobody really acknowledged her brains. Lucy was smart. She loved to read, and she studied astronomy for fun alongside physics and chemistry, which she needed to take over the company one day. Many of her teachers had said that her intelligence was way above the average, and she quite prided herself in that. It bothered her that all those magazines and talk shows only cared about her looks and whether she had already found a husband or not. She wasn’t even looking for a husband, and would much rather spend another few years realizing herself, but she was well aware of her role as an idol. And she didn’t like the fact that all those young girls only ever got to see her beauty, but never once heard a word of her intelligence. She would love to show them how important it was to cultivate one’s intellect or to care about one’s grades rather than their looks.

“Miss Lucy, are you ready to leave?” The driver asked politely, shaking Lucy out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized that she was already standing by the edge of the street, in front of the car door he held open for her. She nodded and gave him a small smile, before she entered.

Once the car started, she decided to check her phone, feeling a little lighter at the sight of the messages her friends had sent during her shooting in their group chat Fairy Tail. She didn’t even remember how they had found such a strange name, but she didn’t really mind. It sounded funny, and thoughtless, and so unlike everything else in her life.

Levy: sent a picture

Levy: Hey Ladies, what do you think of that? It’s a party thrown by Sting Eucliffe, this super-hot singer I was telling you about. It’s this weekend, and the perfect opportunity for a girl’s night out.

Upon further inspection the picture Levy had sent was, in fact, a flyer, held in silver, blue and purple tones and with a picture of Sting Eucliffe himself up front, showing a wide smile and finger guns. On it there were written his name, the date, and the location.

Juvia: Yes! I’d love to come! I even heard he’s single!

Erza: Isn’t that that blonde twink who only recently left Sabertooth to become a solo artist? What a snob.

Levy: Yes, exactly. Except, he’s not a twink, Erza! He sings really good, and not even you can deny that he’s good-looking.

Juvia: He has a voice like an angel, you uncultured strawberry!

Lucy let out a chuckle before replying. The bickering of her friends always eased her tight nerves a bit.

Lucy: I’d love to come, but I’m afraid my father won’t let me… He doesn’t like such events.

Erza: Then we’ll sneak you out, like we did before.

Levy: Of course! We can’t go without you, Lu!

Juvia: And we’ll dress you up again, so that nobody recognizes you. You still got the wig, don’t you?

Lucy: Of course I still got the wig, you guys gifted it to me. I would never throw that away!

Levy: Naww, you’re so cute!

Lucy: But do you think that will be enough to hide me from the paparazzi?

Erza: Of course, and if anything happens, we will cover for you to run away.

Juvia: Yes!

Lucy: Thanks, guys! This means the world to me!

Smiling, she put her phone away. They were already driving up the lane that led to her estate.

When the car halted, a maid was already there to open the car door for Lucy, and she gave her a gratuitous smile, before climbing up the steps to where another maid, Leto, was waiting.

“Welcome home, Miss Lucy. How was your photoshoot?” She smiled politely and made a small bow.

“I’m glad to see you too, Leto. The photoshoot was alright, I guess. The photographer was very enthusiastic.” Lucy answered with just the same polite smile, though it seemed a little tired.

“Aren’t they always?” Leto said warmly, and Lucy nodded in agreement. They were, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her name or if they acted like this around any kind of celebrity.

“Seems so.”

“Mr Heartfilia is in his study. He wanted you to join him there as soon as you came back from your photoshoot.”

“Did he say why?” Lucy sighed, mentally already preparing for the uncomfortable encounter. It was almost noon, and all she wanted was to get back to her studies and maybe eat a bite. She had a big project coming up and didn’t want to waste any more time by doing pointless stuff like being photographed and complimented.

“I am afraid not, Miss Lucy, but he does have guests.” Leto answered as she led her up the stairs, feeling sorry for the girl. She knew her all too well, knowing how busy her life was and how little room she had for herself.

“Guests? Anyone I know?” This caught Lucy’s attention. Guests at the estate were rather unusual, and when there were any, she never got to meet them on purpose. She had once accidentally encountered a business partner of her father, who was storming off due to some deal that hadn’t worked out the way he had wanted to. After his temper tantrum Jude decided to hold meetings of that kind in the company rather than at his own home.

“I don’t think so, Miss. They arrived right after you left, and have been exploring the house since, but I don’t recall having seen them around here before.” Leto explained and made a small bow when they arrived at the doors to Jude Heartfilia’s study. Lucy took a deep breath and knocked, wondering about why her father’s guests would roam around the house. Did he hire a new team of bodyguards?

“Yes?” Jude’s voice sounded, and she entered.

The study was big, with high ceilings and made of dark wood. It was full of bookshelves and diplomas hanging on the walls. In the middle, right in front of a giant window, was Jude Heartfilia’s heavy wooden desk, and behind it, in a big leather chair, sat the man himself. He wore a dark brown suit, his blond hair, that was just a little darker than Lucy’s, combed back meticulously, and his piercing gaze directed right at her. It made her feel immediately uncomfortable, since usually he barely looked up from his work when he requested to talk to her. But today everything seemed to be different.

“Ah, Lucy. You’re back.” He stated and Lucy nodded, averting her eyes.

“Yes, father.”

Only then did she see the woman sitting in one of the heavy chairs across from Jude. She had big blue eyes and gorgeous white locks, which she had bound up in a high ponytail. They must be dyed, Lucy thought to herself, because the woman could only be a few years older than her. She gave Lucy a welcoming smile as she took in her black turtleneck and suit. As far as Lucy could see, she wore a skirt that fitted the blazer rather than pants.

A little farther, half hidden in the shadows of the bookshelves, Lucy spotted a man, wearing a black long-sleeved sweater and dark grey cargo pants. He had his arms crossed behind his back, and apart from his salmon-coloured hair Lucy couldn’t recognise anything about his face.

“This is Miss Mirajane Strauss, head of Strauss and Co.” Jude introduced the white-haired woman who in turn stood up and held her hand out for Lucy to shake. Frowning, she took it and realized that the woman would be visibly higher than her even without her heels.

“Strauss and Co. as in the security agency?”

“Exactly. I feel flattered that you have heard of us already.”

“Only bits. I have heard you’re supposed to be the best.” Lucy smiled, meaning her words as a challenge. When she could get rid of those who claimed to be the best, her father would be out of options.

Mirajane returned a smile so sickly sweet that Lucy knew she had understood the meaning of her words exactly but didn’t take it as an insult. That was interesting. “That is what people say, though I would not be so audacious as to say so myself. I like to let my records speak and my clients decide.”

“I have hired Miss Strauss and her people because of certain threats I have been receiving lately, and since I will be gone more often for business trips in the near future.” Jude explained and watched Mirajane stand by the side of his desk.

“Death threats?” Lucy questioned, not quite comprehending the reason for the sudden situation just yet. But death threats were nothing unusual among their circles, so what could have been so bad that he hired someone like Mirajane Strauss?

“Among other things, yes. In order to not restrict your freedom, they will accompany you every time you leave the estate and will guard the estate itself at all times, too.” In order not to restrict your freedom, Lucy could have barked out a laugh. Jude did not care for her freedom, he cared for her publicity meetings, for photoshoots and interviews. If it was just about her freedom or even her studies, he would gladly keep her at home with the best teachers he could find.

“I understand.” Lucy nodded, and so did Jude. She was dismissed and went to her own study in order to begin with her studies, and to start making plans on how to get rid of her new babysitters once again.

Lucy: Guess who just got a new set of bodyguards.

+++

Natsu knew the girl was special the moment she entered her father’s study. The way she carried herself, the way she smiled and talked. She hated the idea of bodyguards, and if it hadn’t been obvious from how stiff she had become the moment she realized who Mirajane was, he would have known at least by her files. Or the deadly smile she had sent her boss. A challenge, no doubt.

Lucy Heartfilia had a track record of getting rid of both bodyguards and suitors within only a few weeks. It seemed that her game had even levelled up over time. Be it her scaring them away by being bratty and insufferable, or simply by proving them not fit for the job of protecting her by sneaking out in the middle of the night and getting photographed by some paparazzi, she had gotten rid of them all. That’s why Jude Heartfilia had contacted Mirajane, whose agency was said to be the best. Especially after the death threats and the failed attempt to break into the estate, which he probably hadn’t told his daughter about, he just needed to be sure that the heir to his company was in safe hands.

“My daughter is to be guarded at all times, do you understand, Miss Strauss?” His deep voice cut the silence, and Natsu turned his gaze from the door to the man. Mirajane nodded, gifting him her sweetest smile. It was part of her work concept, to be sweet and seem innocent. In reality she was the most dangerous person Natsu had ever encountered, and they both had been high tiers in the military before taking on their job as bodyguards. She believed that potential threats would underestimate her for her good looks and sugary words and make the mistake of coming forward, which gave her the opportunity to not only keep them far from her protégés, but also eliminate the threat emanating from them one way or another, constantly. And so far, her tactic had always worked, without exception. Dangerous men seemed to just love to underestimate kind women.

“Do not worry, Mr Heartfilia. You made the right choice to entrust Miss Lucy to us.”

“Well, well. I guess time will tell if your words are as honourable as they sound. You can go catch up with the rest of your team now.” He dismissed them and Mirajane stood up, made a polite bow, and motioned for Natsu to follow her. While Lucy’s words had been a challenge, his were a warning. If they couldn’t deliver the way he wished, he would get rid of them immediately.

Once the door fell shut behind them, the white-haired woman let out a sigh. “So, what’s your impression?” She asked, and Natsu started walking down the hallway. While Mirajane had been signing legal documents alongside Mr Heartfilia, he had taken a quick look around the house, so that he would be able to know his way around once the job actually started. He knew exactly where Mirajane wanted to go to next.

“Of the girl or her father?” He asked.

“Tell me both.”

“He seems to care for her safety, obviously, but not the way a loving father would. He cares the way an owner of some precious artifact would, and she knows. Their relationship is awful, to say the least, and believing the research I did it’s not even surprising. She hates how planned out her life is, and even more than that she hates bodyguards.” He stated and watched as Mirajane chuckled softly.

“Oh, that seems about accurate. You remember what we talked about the other day?”

“About how I’m to act around her?”

“Yeah. Be careful. I have a feeling that she will make it harder on you than the others.”

Now it was Natsu’s turn to sigh. Yes, she probably would. But he wasn’t Natsu if he would let that get in his way.

Stopping in front of the girl’s study, he raised his hand to knock, waiting for her soft voice to call them in.

Lucy Heartfilia’s study was very different from her father’s. It was packed with books, too, but where his seemed to be a bunch of classics that were bought solely for the purpose of making him look wealthy and intelligent, hers seemed to be personal. There were novels, and books about all kinds of scientific ranges or biographies about scientists and activists, and a whole shelf was packed with just what must be her old schoolbooks. Her desk was of lighter wood and an almost white colour, but even larger in space than his, and there were pens and markers of all colours neatly organized on it, right next to a big computer screen. In front of the chimney on the side wall there was a small coffee table, surrounded by armchairs and a small couch. On the table there was a staple of novels. The room seemed cosy, and personal.

“Oh, Miss Mirajane. I wasn’t expecting you to come and see me.” Lucy smiled confusedly and stood up from the chair behind her desk, starting to walk around it. Natsu couldn’t help but let his gaze roam her body again. It was gorgeous, to say the least. She had all the right curves in all the right places, wasn’t too tall either and seemed quite delicate. Her beautiful blonde locks framed her pretty face, and he could see that she wore only little makeup to accentuate her natural beauty. The girl was absolutely stunning.

Mirajane giggled. “Please, call me Mira. You don’t have to be so formal around me. I’m here because I wanted to talk some things through with you personally and thought that you might feel better if your father wasn’t present.”

This seemed to make the girl insecure, and she furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Sure. Would you like to take a seat?” She motioned for the armchairs in front of the chimney and Mirajane nodded. Once they were sat down opposite each other, Natsu went to stand behind his boss. Lucy gave him a polite smile, which he returned.

“To not beat about the bush, I’m sure you already noticed Natsu.” Mirajane introduced him and he nodded when she glanced up to him.

“He is my best man, and while my whole team will constantly care about the safety of you and your family, he will be your personal bodyguard. He will accompany you to university and to all kinds of other events. I’m afraid he will even be there when you just meet friends, as your father requested.” To Natsu it was obvious that Lucy hated every word coming out of her mouth, and yet she kept up a perfect smile. She didn’t blame Mira, he realized, even though she would make her job as hard as possible.

“What I wanted to ask you was, do you have a boyfriend, Miss Lucy?” Mirajane continued, earning a confused look from Lucy. For a moment, she didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Why is that relevant?”

“Because of the current situation, it would be an advantage if it wasn’t too obvious that Natsu is your bodyguard. Since he will be around you every time you leave the estate, a practical tactic would be for him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Only if you are comfortable with that, of course.” She quickly added, but Lucy didn’t seem entirely convinced yet. “You would not have to do anything you don’t like, just introduce him as such. If you do not want to go with this possibility, we can arrange some other cover story, of course. Our job is to take care about your safety while keeping you as comfortable as possible, so please don’t hold back with criticism.”

Lucy stayed awfully quiet for some minutes, thinking it all through. Eventually she nodded, giving Mirajane a smile that seemed a lot more honest and also mischievous than all the smiles she had put up before. Natsu swallowed hard at the wicked gleam in her angelic brown eyes. “If this is the best possibility, then I should not be the one to turn it down.”

“Great. I will leave you two to talk everything through then and check up on the rest of the team. I wish you a nice afternoon, Miss Lucy.” Mirajane stood up and bowed, before leaving the room in calm strides. When the door clicked shut behind her, Natsu turned his gaze towards Lucy.

“Will it be possible to tell the truth to my closest friends?”

“I’m afraid that I might have to advise against it.” Upon hearing his voice for thew first time, Lucy gave him an odd look.

“Just advise? Then I will tell them.“ She said, such finality in her voice that he knew, no matter what he would say would not find any soil to grow on.

“Is there anything else you would like to talk through or ask?” She questioned and stood up.

“No, Miss. I will remain here in the study with you, though.” She nodded before turning around and returning to her studies. Natsu decided to roam through her bookshelves in the meantime.

He was currently studying an entire shelf full of astronomy books, wondering how someone could ever read something like that without banging their head against a wall, when Lucy cleared her throat behind him. Startled, he turned around, only to find her standing only centimetres beside him. How had she gotten there so quietly?

“Do you like astronomy, Natsu?” She purred, staring right up at him with her big brown doe eyes. He tried not to let it show how much impact they had on him.

He shook his head. “Can’t say I do, Miss. If anything, I’m more of psychology guy.”

“Psychology, huh?” She responded, inching closer. “Call me Lucy, will you?”

“If you wish me to.” He swallowed. What reaction was she trying to get out of him?

“I do. I’ve had psychology classes for some years myself. Loved them, though I had no time for them anymore upon entering university.” She murmured, curious eyes roaming over his chest muscles and biceps before she raised them to stare right back into his. “Have you ever been to university, Natsu?”

“I’m afraid not. After finishing high school, I went straight to the military.” He responded, not sure as to why he was even telling her. He usually didn’t talk about his personal life to his clients.

“The military? So, you really are a tough guy…” Lucy stated, laying a hand on his arm. Only then Natsu realised that she was purposefully manipulating him, bringing him out of the concept. He shook her arm off and hardened his gaze.

“Yes, I am. May I help you with anything, Miss Lucy?”

Looking up at him, and seeing the change in his expression, Lucy smirked. The game had begun.

“Please, call me Lucy.” She repeated and turned away, walking back to her desk. With furrowed brows Natsu stared at her retreating figure, swearing that her skirt was higher up than it had been in her father’s study.

She wanted to play games, huh? Good thing he was a player then.

Hey Sweethearts, it’s me. I’m writing this fanfiction because, obviously, I love Fairy Tail, but also because I am not a native english speaker and I want to up my english game. I would really appreciate some feedback!

Have a lovely Day, your Duchess

#fairy tail fanfiction #Fairy Tail #Lucy Heartfilia #Levy McGarden #Natsu Dragneel #Erza Scarlett #Mirajane Strauss #Juvia Lockser #Bodyguard AU

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tiffdawg · 5 years ago

Text

Just Another Mission | An Agent Whiskey x Reader Fic

Gif: @javier-pena

Pairing: Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 3.1K

Rating: T | Warnings: None. This is literally all fluff. Fake marriage and sharing-the-only-bed tropes included!

A/N: Hi! Please enjoy this trope-ridden, cliché-filled Agent Whiskey x reader story that popped into my head at 2am the other night and demanded to be written. I blame everything on Pedro Pascal.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

... . ...

Just Another Mission

Since taking on the mantel of Agent Rosé at Statesman, you’d been partnered with Agent Whiskey on numerous missions over the years. On paper, this was just another mission. It really shouldn’t have been any different from the rest. The two of you were tasked with infiltrating an insider trading ring on Wall Street that was doing enough damage to the stock market for Statesman to take notice. It was certainly nothing out of your ordinary purview.

As such, you and Agent Whiskey were going undercover as the heads of an up-and-coming southern investment firm looking to expand up north. In order to give your assumed identities a bit more depth and secure invitations to the criminal group’s private social events, your handler back at HQ thought it would be helpful if the two of you went undercover as a married couple. A regular twenty-first century power couple, if you will. The men and women involved in the insider trading ring, for all of their faults, seemed to be family-oriented people. Or, at the very least, beach parties for the kids in the Hamptons and private dinners at the Upper East Side’s finest restaurants with spouses served as the perfect pretext to meet to trade secrets, negotiate deals under the table, and discuss illicit plans for the future.

It almost seems odd that after all of your shared missions, the two of you have never pretended to be married as part your cover story before. But, as you stand in the doorway of your luxurious Manhattan hotel room, you were starting to see the benefit of not posing as a couple. You were also beginning to suspect your handler might be playing some sort of cruel joke on you.

Of course, in order to maintain your cover, she only booked one hotel room for the pair of you. It bolstered your cover story with the hotel staff and in the likely instance you were followed back to your hotel, it would help you keep up appearances. And, of course, there’s only one bed.

“Well, Agent Rosé, we are supposed to be married,” Whiskey quips with a wink as he moves past you into the lush, gilded room. Clearly, your displeasure is written all over your face.

You roll your eyes at your hotshot partner’s receding figure before following after him. You do your best to shake yourself out of it because you really don’t have any time to worry about something as trivial as an unexpected, slightly inconvenient sleeping situation. Instead, you refocus on the mission, hoisting your overpacked suitcase onto the downy, king-sized bed. You dig out the dress keeper and peruse your options for a moment before selecting an elegant black gown with matching evening gloves for the gala you were attending that night. It would be your first appearance as Mr. and Mrs. Castillo and the perfect opportunity to charm your way into the inner circle of the one percent. That is your priority.

… . …

Hours later, after an evening of drinking the best champagne, dancing with your fake husband, and successfully socializing with your targets, you’ve finally returned to your lavish Midtown hotel for the night. With your gloved hand still resting on the crook of Whiskey’s elbow, he leads you from the elevator to the door of your shared suite. He’s recounting a story about a time he talked his way out of a rather precarious standoff involving international arms dealers, a former US ambassador, and the disgraced prince of a small European country. You’re so absolutely enthralled by his story and the silky southern accent that drips off of his every word that for a split second you forget that you’re not actually married to the man on your arm. The thought startles you and you quickly remove yourself from your fellow agent, brushing past him when he eventually swings open the door to your shared room.

Aside from the occasional question about something that was said at the gala, things are quiet as you both type up your mission reports for the day. He finishes first, which is surprising for someone who’s known to be a bit long-winded, and disappears into the ensuite. Perhaps you would’ve completed yours by now if you didn’t steal glances at your fellow agent in between every sentence. Your eyes are practically crossing when you finally submit your report. It’d been a productive day, but you are more than ready to sleep for the next eight hours.

“What are you doing?” you inquire with a light laugh. You’d just finished your nightly routine in the bathroom and emerged to find Whiskey attempting to stretch out his long form on the loveseat sofa.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he retorts back. “I’m going to sleep so I can be well rested for our champagne brunch with the Montgomery’s at the grand old Plaza tomorrow morning.” After a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand he amended with a sigh, “Or rather, later today.”

“On the couch?” you ask, playing with a loose string on the hem of your much-too-short sleep shorts.

“Well, where else would you like me to sleep, darlin’?” he asks in response. You don’t even flinch at the pet names anymore and instead the moniker pulls at something in your chest. Part of you thinks it’d be best for both of you to just leave it at that. He’s trying to be the gentleman and if he sleeps on the couch, all of your problems would be solved. Another part of you…well, you don’t want your partner running on fumes with a stiff neck while you’re in the middle of a mission, do you? Your eyes flick over to the bed and their movement doesn’t go unnoticed by the attentive agent. “Now, I know I may push my luck flirting with you, sweetheart, but I never want to make you uncomfortable. I’m fine spending the night here on the sofa.”

“Who said I would be uncomfortable, Jack?” Your words come out quieter than you intended, but you know he heard you. Rather than wait for him to reply, you crawl into bed, leaving plenty of space for him to join you. After a long moment of consideration, and a forlorn look back at the stiff, overstuffed sofa, he relents.

Unsure how to position yourself with your fellow agent in bed with you, you toss for quite a bit. When you roll over for the fifth time, finally deciding that facing away from him would be the best option, he reaches out and pulls you securely into his chest. You gasp, surprised at his bold move, but find that he feels warm and solid against you. You’re so close you can feel his heartbeat behind you, drumming a steady, spellbinding rhythm. His arm stays wrapped around your waist, almost reassuringly, and your body relaxes into his.

“You settled now?” he asks, and you can just about hear his grin.

“Yes, I am,” you whisper back.

“And you’re still comfortable with this arrangement?” His voice is lower, little more than a breath against the shell of your ear but he’s not flirting with you now. His usual confidence is gone, replaced by the slightest hint of nervousness.

“Very much so. I promise,” you answer genuinely, resting a light hand over his where it sits against your abdomen in the soft space below your ribs. His only response is a slight squeeze around your waist.

With that, your eyes close and you let yourself drift off with the sound of his steady breathing behind you to lull you to sleep.

… . …

Much of your second day in the city was spent wining and dining a pair of your targets, another husband and wife duo. She was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and he was the sole heir to an old New England fortune. You and the Mrs. stole away for a bit in the afternoon to do some shopping on Fifth Avenue. While Statesman had allotted you quite the budget to keep up the appearance of a certain lifestyle, you weren’t sure how Champ was going to feel about your new Chanel pocketbook. It might not have been a strictly necessary purchase, but it was an excellent way to bond with one of your main targets.

“You and your husband make quite the pair,” she says while running her painted fingers over a stack of silk scarves at Saint Laurent. “He’s so obviously smitten with you.”

You preoccupy yourself with the rows of oversized sunglasses, hoping to hide your uneasiness at her comment. At least you and Whiskey were selling the married couple bit.

“I got lucky,” you reply with a lighthearted laugh.

That night, he’s already in bed when you come out of the bathroom. You can’t help but watch him for a minute from the threshold. He’s sitting up against the headboard wearing a white tee shirt that only accentuates his broad figure and, you presume, he’s reading over mission files on his tablet as his eyes scan the screen from behind thick rimmed glasses. You’d learned over the years that his swagger, while not entirely unwarranted, often covered Jack’s studious, serious side. He is an effective agent because of his hard work, diligent research, and careful planning. It isn’t a side of himself he showed many people, but you are among the privileged few.

After a moment, he meets your gaze from across the room. His eyes trail over your body, taking in your sleep shorts and oversized shirt, and a soft smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. You were well accustomed to his appreciative looks, but this was different, almost intimate.

“Well, darlin’, are you about ready for bed?” he asks. The question, while perfectly valid, struck you as something so wholesomely domestic.

You nod and offer him a small smile before slipping into bed next to him. He considers you for a moment longer then sighs to himself and tosses his tablet and glasses on the nightstand before switching off the light.

Cloaked in darkness, the two of you lie silently next to each other for a moment. Only the quiet hum of the air conditioning fills the room. But it’s anything but peaceful, and the longer you stir in silence, the worse this tension coiling between you and Whiskey gets.

“Jack?” you finally call out to him, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he responds. The sheets rustle as he turns to face you. You seek out his eyes in the darkness with only a sliver of moonlight peeking through the drawn curtains to help you.

“Will you hold me like last night?” you ask tentatively.

“Baby girl, I thought you’d never ask.”

You meet in the middle of the bed. His arms wrap around you as you lay you head on his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt with one hand in a vain attempt to pull him closer as if your bodies aren’t already perfectly flush. You breathe in his familiar scent, something deep and rich and completely Jack Daniels, and you nearly sob at the relief of finally feeling him against you again. You’re almost ashamed to say you’d been craving it ever since you untangled yourself from his grasp this morning. You don’t know how this happened; how this man, your coworker and partner, cast this spell over you so quickly. But as he strokes your back with a gentle hand, you start to accept that it was there for a long time. And you hope that he feels it, too.

… . …

With everyone presumably at work on a Monday in New York City, you and Agent Whiskey decide that’s the perfect time to do some investigative work at your targets’ private homes. It’s no easy task considering they all live in the best (and most secure) penthouse apartments and spacious townhomes money can buy in Manhattan, but things went surprisingly well with only a few minor hitches throughout the day. At least things were going well until you discovered your final mark had recently upgraded the security system for their Park Avenue townhome and then things went south. Fast.

You’d passed most of the evening arguing with your partner, albeit in hushed tones so as not to alert the other hotel guests. While you and Whiskey had your fair share of disagreements in the past, you both have a bit of a stubborn streak in you, this fight is particularly ugly.

Eventually, you decide you’ve had enough of him and so you lock yourself in the ensuite, hoping to drown your frustrations in a piping hot forty-five-minute shower. You spend most of your shower doing little more than standing directly under the stream of water and counting to ten repeatedly while attempting breathing exercises Ginger Ale had taught you in an effort to reign in your anger.

He’s gone when you exit the steamy bathroom and for a minute you worry. Then you quickly decide it’s not your place to worry about the man and you throw yourself dramatically onto the bed with the intention of forcing yourself to fall asleep before he returns.

When he finally slips back into the dark room an hour later, you’re still wide awake. Out of spite and stubbornness, you give him no indication of that fact. You are, however, surprised when he climbs into bed next to you. You figured tonight he really would opt for the uncomfortable couch rather than sleep next to you. After some time, you fall asleep with your backs turned to each other. You can’t help but think that the distance between the two of you has never felt greater.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours later when you wake from a fitful sleep with the disheartening realization that you were both a little right and a little wrong. It leaves a horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach until you just can’t take it anymore. It’s the middle of the night, but you have to apologize right now. You reach across him to turn on the light and your light movements jostle the bed enough to wake him. Although, from the look on his face, you suspect he wasn’t sleeping well either.

Jack sits up so that he’s facing you fully and eyes you with an arched brow, patiently waiting for you to speak. Meanwhile, you’re chewing at your bottom lip and struggling to find the right words to express yourself now that you’ve got his attention.

“Do you know why I like working with you?” you finally ask, measuring each word carefully. “You’ve never doubted my abilities as an agent. Not because I’m a woman or because of any other stupid reason. You’ve always made me feel like your equal. Until today.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Truly, I am,” he answers seriously. His accent lacks the usual playful tone. “For a moment there I was sure I was going to lose you and I panicked, and I know now I should’ve listened to you. But please believe me when I say that I’ve never doubted you. Not once. The only thing I doubted today was my ability to keep you safe.”

“That’s not your job,” you assert.

“Like hell it isn’t,” Jack responds sternly. “You’re my partner.”

You nod, acquiescing. You couldn’t argue with that even if you wanted to; his safety is just as important to you. You take a deep breath before continuing. This is always the hardest part. “I’m sorry, too. For the way I reacted today. I was frustrated and it could’ve cost us this mission.”

“All is forgiven. You know that.” You sigh in relief when he hits you with one of his beaming smiles. The kind that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners. “You gonna let me hold you now?” he asks as he relaxes back into the plush pillows, gesturing to the space beside him. “I don’t know if I can sleep without you anymore.”

“After two nights?” you ask teasingly with a soft laugh.

“Best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time,” he says with a wicked grin. You can’t help but return the smile, knowing exactly what he means.

“Not yet,” you say coyly, summoning every ounce of courage you have before tentatively brushing your lips against his. You try to pull back so you can gauge his response, but there’s no need as he cups your face in his hands and brings your lips right back to his. This time the kiss is eager, hungry, and you return his enthusiasm with equal fervor. Your lips meld together perfectly and when his tongue slides into your mouth, you can’t help the little moan that escapes you.

When you finally pull apart, gasping for air, you both break out into a fit of laughter. This was probably a long time coming and yet it managed to catch you both by surprise. He places a few imperfect kisses, warped only by his smile, across your face and you fall back into bed with him.

The word love imprints itself into your mind as you hold his gaze, but you don’t speak it into existence. Not yet. Even though the look in his eyes tells you he’s thinking the exact same thing. You just know he is because after all these years together you can read Jack Daniels like a book. But this thing between you is new, precious even. Maybe it’s been there for a while, but you’re only just now ready to accept it and there’s no need to rush things. Better to let it mature in its own time because you know it’s going to age well, just like fine whiskey.

“Goodnight, Jack,” you whisper instead. You plant a light kiss on his soft lips, smiling as his mustache tickles you, before snuggling into the crook of his neck.

“I’m definitely going to sleep well now, my sweet girl,” He murmurs as he hugs you against him. In that moment you feel so safe, so cherished, so incredibly happy. Until- “Even if you do snore.”

“I do not!” you gasp and try to wriggle free so you can glare at him. He only laughs and holds you tighter, his arms wrapping firmly around you.

“Yeah, you do. Soft, little snores,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s cute.”

... . ...

Thanks for reading!

Edit: find part two here!

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #my writing #my fic #fic: just another mission

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kumkaniudaku · 5 years ago

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Hey, Neighbor

Summary: You’ve got a noisy neighbor next door to meet.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

“My love is like woah! My kiss is like woah! My touch is like…”

Rolling your eyes, you quietly danced in front of the stove as you sauteed vegetables for dinner. Mya was a new entry into the almost nightly DJ session that took place in the apartment beside your two bedroom unit. Without fail, the once quiet atmosphere was electrified at 6:30 pm sharp, letting you know what kind of day your next door neighbor was having.

Some days, you’d sit and listen, trying to block out the Goodie Mob or Marvin Gaye passing through the paper thin walls while you completed work that had seeped into your home life. Then came the rare moments of playfulness when you would follow each of his songs with a track that served as an answer to the overall theme.

He didn’t seem to notice your attempts to spark a non-verbal conversation. You weren’t even completely sure he knew who you were. Brief meetings in the parking garage or the lobby elevator put you in close proximity, but he never took time to say hello or even acknowledge your dog, Leche when she would climb his long legs for attention. Still, doing so helped you pass the time until he closed up shop and presumably went to bed.

Working on your second glass of Rosé on a rainy Friday evening, you bopped your head along to song after song until the buzz tingling in your bones convinced you to connect your phone to the nearby Bluetooth speaker.

“If your love is like whoa, then you should let me love you. That’s corny,” you muttered to yourself. “Just play the damn song.”

Your timing was perfect as the tail end of Mya met the smooth tone of Mario’s signature crooning.

“Baby, I just don’t get it. Do you enjoy being hurt?”

As quick as you pressed play, you returned your attention to the stove to reduce the heat on your honey glaze. Mario’s vocals quickly became white noise in your brain and you hadn’t noticed that the song was nearing the end until a familiar guitar line interrupted the remaining thirty seconds.

“The time has come for us to stop messing around…”

Your body reacted before you could completely understand what was happening. Was he responding? And if he was, did that mean he had purposely ignored you during the previous unofficial battles? Shaking the thought, you rushed to your phone to find the perfect follow-up to The Gap Band’s ‘Yearning For Your Love.’

Four minutes felt like four hours while you waited for your turn to hit play and answer the coded message.

“In the middle of the day now baby, I seem to think of only you. Never thinking for a moment, baby, that you’ve been thinking of me too.”

“It’s Total and Biggie. Everybody loves Total and Biggie, right? Right?”

Judging from his never ending playlists, he was hard to pin to a genre. Old school funk and soul could be replaced with 90s hip-hop and then soft rock in a 30 minute time span without missing a beat. So, it was only natural that he would find some common ground with a moment from your Bad Boy playlist.

You were at his mercy while the song played and wondered how he was reacting. In your mind, he was just as excited as you were as he scrolled through his phone or computer looking for the perfect rebuttal. In reality, he was probably searching for the perfect set of lyrics that said “Please, leave me alone,” in the nicest way possible.

A long and uncomfortable bout of silence followed the son, making you scrunch your face.

“Oh-kay. Did I win, Leche?” Your favorite Corgi in the world yawned in response before splooting in the center of the living room. “You’re right. He is totally calling the front desk to have me fined for a noise disturbance. Can I borrow $75?”

Mentioning money earned a bark from Leche, making you laugh as you joined her on the floor. The only sound between the two apartments was the start of the newest Real Housewives of Atlanta episode until the Bluetooth speaker next door started up again and Tevin Campbell’s voice began signing.

“Can we talk for a minute? Girl I wanna know your name.”

That was it. The chorus played once through before silence took over.

“Did he do that on purpose,” you thought to yourself.

After a few seconds of gambling with your rational self on what to do next, you scrambled to your Lemme Holla playlist and pressed play on your response.

“Come and talk to me. I really wanna meet you. Can I talk to you? I really wanna know you.”

A loud laugh, one you’d never heard before but knew you wanted to hear again, rang out, making you smile. You listened for movement and found your answer as a door in the hallway opened and closed. Soon, knuckles rapped at your door.

You calmed your giddy dance moves before tip toeing toward the mirror next to the entrance. Luckily you were still in your work attire from the day, sporting a simple olive jumpsuit. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself a mental countdown from three and opened the door.

“Oh…”You immediately felt like an idiot for your outburst but it was certainly justified.

He stood with undeniable confidence and the brightest smile you’d seen in a while. The material of his maroon turtleneck stretched across the broad span of his shoulders, rippling at his arms and chest. You could smell a little of his cologne when he shifted his weight to move from his leaning position against the doorframe. He was damn near perfect and you were almost regretting playing games with a gorgeous stranger.

“I brought wine. I could smell whatever you got going on from the balcony and figured I should bring gifts,” he said smiling as he extended the bottle of white wine in your direction. You reached out with a blank stare,prompting him to nervously continue. “I’m Yahya, by the way. From next door. The one with the music.”

“Yahya…,” you repeated. Snapping back into your body, you could see confusion brewing behind his expressive eyes. Shaking your head, you began to smile. “Looks like the Sixth Floor DJ has decided to grace 6F with his presence.”

“Well, you know, I like to put on a show. You’re my favorite audience member if that counts for anything.” Both of you laughed at his pseudo compliment before sharing brief looks that carried deeper meaning. “I gotta say, this is a nice place. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all. Just me and Leche about to settle down and watch some Housewives. You caught up with the season?”

“I never miss an episode.”

You returned his wide grin with one of your own and stepped aside to give Yahya room to enter. He strolled in like he was in familiar territory, even bending down to greet Leche who eagerly stood to place her front paws on his leg.

Dinner for one had just found a second party. It was the neighborly thing to do, right?

I’m not sure if anyone wants to be tagged in Yahya stuff. I don’t even know if this will become a regular thing. But, if you’re interested in either, let me know!

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fic

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neoniverse · 5 years ago

Text

heal me. | chapter iv

disclaimer: this series is a work of fiction. any businesses, events or incidents are products of my wide imagination. all of the character’s personality does not reflect and has nothing to do in real life.

warnings: smut, angst, usage of strong language, mild violence, mentions of death, alcohol & drugs, degradation, cheating issues and lots of flashbacks

pairings: jung jaehyun x reader

a/n: read at your own risk. unedited.

song association: blinding lights - the weeknd

« CHAPTER III

“I loved you once

and now I must spend

my whole life explaining why.”

"Stop staring at me."

Jaehyun glances at you after noticing that you have been staring for the whole five minutes of him working over something. You watched his veiny hands flip each page of the paper he was holding before jotting down his signature with black ink.

He stopped for a moment and looked at you with his thin gold-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

"Baby, I'm telling you. Don't provoke me."

"What? Did I do something wrong?" then purposely nudged the pencil holder near him. "Oh, right. Maybe I did."

You immediately kneeled down to pick the pencils up, arching your back more; enough for him to see your ass. Just as you were about to stand up, he suddenly lifted up your body and placed you on top of the desk.

"Jaehyun, what the he—" he shut you up with his index finger pressed to your lips and eyed you down with menacing look.

"Bend over," he orders. "Raise that skirt."

You do exactly what he said and faced the large space of his office while biting your lips as nervousness and excitement build upon your body. The trepidatious heat you're feeling is imparable; knowing that someone might widely open that door and see you both in that very sexual and unusual scene.

He slowly trailed up his cold fingers from the back of your knees to the exposed cheeks of your ass. With no words said, his hand harshly landed to your skin.

"I already told you to stop, didn't I? Why defy me?" he leans closer to your ear. "Use that pretty mouth of yours and answer me."

You shook your head sideways and pursued your lips to remain silent. The raging heat of your body weakened your knees as Jaehyun continued leaning closer. You felt his bulge growing behind you.

"My very own naughty dirty girl. You really, really like seeking attention, aren't you? Just because you know I am capable of doing this?"

"Jae, please."

"Why defy me, baby?"

"I did— I didn't!"

"Mhm, sure. I really don't care."

He pulled your black laced panties down and pushed the hem of the beige skirt to your waist. He even did your hair into a ponytail to pull. "Safe word?"

"Red, sir."

"Alright. Count my thrusts and if you get one wrong, I will absolutely sure you’re limping on your way out, whore."

He pulled you closer to him and positioned his member right to your area. He didn't wait for you to speak as he already get a hold of your waist and hair then pushed his fully erected member inside your wet pussy.

"Oh—holy fuck."

"What did I say? Count."

"O-one."

The whole room was filled with gradually speeding sounds of two bodies skin colliding. His hips harshly slamming against your ass made you release loud whimpers. The unholy grating and roughness of his movements by senselessly fucking you behind diminished your grasp to the table.

"Ah, shit, yes."

"Yeah? Like that?" he whispers to your ear then licked your jawline. "Such a big slut, are we? Your tight and wet pussy take my fucking cock so well."

You were on the peak of climax when you woke up to sense sound of a loud clap in front of your face. Everyone was looking at you, especially Johnny who gave you a what-is-happening-to-you look.

"Earth to Y/N. It's supposed to be a fun and special night yet you're spacing out?" Johnny utters before handing a bottle of cold beer. I massaged my temples as this is the fifth time of zoning out and thinking of things that I left buried in the past.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!"

It has been exactly five days ever since I moved out from the project for Neocity Incorporation. I didn’t want to settle in that decision but what are the odds anyway? He wanted me out of his sight just like how he wanted me before; to love and heal him.

You celebrated your not-so-fun birthday in your condominium unit with Johnny, Rosé, and Seolhee. Taeyong was also supposed to be there but he said he’s not available for he’s busy about something important. But he didn't just left you in the air like that for he dropped by earlier to give his very special and extravagant gift to you.

“Come on, just at least have fun,” Rosé spoke while munching on her fried chicken. “And the food tastes so damn good!”

“Rosie, that’s because you’re already finishing the box all by yourself.” Seolhee replies. Rosé gave her a deadly glare before taking another bite to the drumstick she's holding.

I trickled off the rivulet of cold beer on my throat before going out to the balcony to breathe in fresh air. As soon as the sliding door opened, cold breeze of wind embraced my body; making me cross my arms over my chest. I walked towards the metal handrail and placed my arms above it. Then wandered my eyes to the marvelous view. The skycrapers, busy highways of Seoul, and the gradient dark blue to black color sky of shining stars lured my despondent soul in.

I started tearing up as my heart felt a striding thump. "Oh, god. Why am I crying," I let out a small chuckle and wiped the tears that fell down my cheeks and from escaping my eyes.

"You're such a crybaby, just so you know."

The taunting dominant voice from my back halted me from moving. As I turn around, I saw him there, standing before me with a bottle of beer on his right hand. My breath hitched when his chocolate eyes meet mine, especially when that playful smirk is plastered on his lips.

"What are you doing here?" I shot back, giving emphasis to 'you'.

He walked towards my place and stood beside me as if he doesn't feel any tension between us. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. "You told me to stay away, now you're here to mess things up."

"I don't think I should even explain myself, Y/N."

What?

I let out a sarcastic scoff. "Wow, Mr. Jung. Did I step on your ego?" Jaehyun just looked at me as if trying to read me and my feelings. "I just wanted to say sorry, okay? I was intoxicated by alcohol that night."

"You feel sorry for being what, an asshole?” I ask, only to see his smile fade. “Where do you put alcohol, anyway? Down your annoying ass?"

That's for you, fucking jerk.

He chugged down the beer and slumped himself on the floor, his back leaning on the glass pane. I hate him. I really hate his guts. He’s arrogant, who act like my fucking boss, and act like he knows shit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jaehyun spoke. Sadness poisons his voice. “I mean it. Truly.”

I remained my eyes down at him, his chocolate like eyes gleam but sad. Is it bad if I feel remorseful? Even for once? I open my mouth to answer him, but nothing comes out. My anger and hate for him is tempered by coldness. I turn around to leave him alone but a warm embrace halted and encaged my body in.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too low to hear. Something jostles my arms. “For what I did. I’m sorry. I know it’s not that easy to forgive but atleast let me prove myself to you—again.” His voice almost breaks.

With all my might and can, I detached his grip to mine. You are only apologetic whenever you feel like to do so.

“If you're sorry, you should’ve leave me alone,” I stare at him. “What does it feel like to be pushed away? You— you always confuse me.”

The thing with love is, no matter how hard you try to save and fix it, no matter how the two of you sacrifice, it always, in the end, becomes too much. Jaehyun and you was like two shadows playing with fire. No one was capable of winning, no one was capable of losing.

I went back inside and locked myself to my room. My heart fell into a pit of sneer razors, thin and sharp. I fear of being alone more than anything else before. But it was always better to be by oneself.

In the past few days, I’ve kept myself busy with the new project given by the boss. My exhaustion is bone-deep and my heart is another wound entirely, still bleeding from taking all pain and failure.

“Engineer? You have a visitor at the office.”

My brows immediately furrowed to the worker but I just gave him a nod. He then walked away afterwards. I wasn't expecting any visitor for today but maybe it's a surprise?

Right after I swung the door open, Jaehyun in his office attire and my co-worker, Jun, was talking about something. Jaehyun stood up when he saw me enter the room. I gave Jun a notice to go out for a meantime but instead, he gave me a wink and goodluck sign before leaving.

"I just came by to invite you," Jaehyun started. "It's just a party and I assure you I will bring you home after."

In short, a party and his date.

"And that is for what?" I answered. "I'm one of your least concerns, Mr. Jung. I don't think I should comply to that."

He licked his lower lip. "I don't have any one to go with me. So Y/N, please, just this one night?"

You don't know what force pulled you to hell just so you can agree and join him to the said party. You just found yourself wearing a black plunging neckline dress that you saw on your closet earlier. And partnered up with beige heels. A sexy clothing like this wasn't in your thoughts at all, but you wanted to grab Jaehyun's limelight at the party.

"You look so gorgeous tonight."

And that was his cue before sliding his hand to your waist while you both are making your way to the red carpeted hallway.

"Thanks, I guess?" You answered. Jaehyun gave you a sincere smile that revealed his two sets of deep dimples.

When the two of you entered the ballroom, you both were welcomed by media and the other guests that overwhelmed your whole being. Laughter and chattering resonated inside the palatial ballroom and the glimmering theme laced the party, having some resemblance to a renaissance painting.

“Mr. Jung! Good to see you here!”

An old man in black suit approached and shook hands with him. He looked at you surprisingly. “Oh, the great Miss Y/N! How could I forget?”

You replied to him with a smile and polite bow before grabbing a champagne flute from a waiter. Jaehyun ended his talk with the man and proceeded walking with you to the reserved table.

Many people was intrigued to as why you and him, were together in the event; especially the media who even interviewed you two regarding it. I’m just his date for tonight. That was your answer. By the whole time moving, you just got bored and more bored for social gatherings wasn’t really your thing.

“Come with me, I’ll show you something.”

Jaehyun handed you his hand before pulling you to run away from the ballroom. You giggled when you almost tripped on your feet while running to your way out.

“If this isn’t something good, swear to heaven’s saints and angels, I will fucking kick your balls!” You playfully taunt him.

He drove to the airport as soon as the car left the basement parking. The butterflies inside your stomach fluttered when both of you walked towards a private jet at the airport ramp. Your heart raced when you got inside and saw Mark standing at the cockpit.

“Where are we going?” You ask, but instead, he just shot his brow up at you.

The whole flight lasted for 12 hours and you still have zero idea to where Jaehyun is bringing you. Butterflies that flutter inside your stomach grew wild with anticipation when the plane landed safely—sending notice that you have arrived at your destination.

"Good evening. This is Captain Lee, your Pilot for the night. We have safely landed in Rome-Fiumicino Airport. Yo, Jaehyun Jung, use protection later!"

Mark vulgarly announced to the whole craft, making your cheeks flush. Jaehyun just laughed it off as if it's not awkward for him.

"You brought me to Rome freaking Italy?" You exasperated said, eyes widen, to the person beside you. "I already told you before, I will make myself up."

"I hope you know that I am sorry for everything, Y/N."

The soft knocks on your hotel room door woke your senses up. You rubbed your eyes before grabbing the silk robe you bought at a nearby boutique last night before you and Jaehyun check-in at a obviously luxurious hotel.

It's already 9 AM.

You opened the door and saw Jaehyun standing there, wearing a simple white shirt, tucked in his washed blue jeans. He eyed you up and down before greeting.

"Hi."

"Hey."

Silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

"You ready? We're going to our first tourist spot."

When we arrived at the Colosseum— which was my ever since wish, my jaw dropped as to see the beauty. Jaehyun, who is standing beside me kept looking at the old building.

"What's the use of your film camera if you won't open it?" I mocking asked before snatching it from him. "Go there, I'll take a picture of you."

He hesitated first before following your demand. You took two shots of him, standing in front of the beautifully created structure. You were doing boomerangs for your Instagram story when Jaehyun pulled you.

"Mi scusi, puoi farci una foto?" He politely asked to a passerby and gave her his phone. The old lady smiled and took it.

Jaehyun suddenly wrapped his arm on your shoulders, making your heart jump for a second. The woman counted before clicking the shutter of his phone camera.

"You, two, look nice together! Good couple!" She created a heart shaped sign then left us alone. Jaehyun beside you just laughed while you were standing there, dumbfounded.

He took your wrist and pulled you so the both of you started walking again. You also posted an IG story of Jaehyun's back that left a bombarding dm's from Rosé, Seolhee, Johnny, and Mark.

@parkrosies: please bring home some food!

@l_seolhee: NOW I KNOW WHY YOU'RE ABSENT

@seo.johnny: Use protection! ;)

@mark.lee: Have fun, Y/N! I hope you guys will go home with a baby.

Mark's message made you laugh then you closed your phone. The trip in Colosseum ended by eating at a near restaurant that was again, high-end and fancy. Jaehyun insisted walking to a park before going back to the hotel.

"Did you enjoy?" He asked while sipping on his iced americano.

You nodded slowly. "Hmm, I really did."

"We're just here for three days so we should go to a lot more places tomorrow." Your poor heart fell on your stomach as to his word.

"Three days will be enough, then," Jaehyun glanced at you. "I hope it's enough for us."

When the both of you arrived in front of each other's hotel doors, he gave you a small smile and mouthed, 'tomorrow' before going inside his room.

The next day, you woke up late because you slept late for contemplating over things. Jaehyun brought you to the center and major tourist attraction, St. Peter's Basilica. Then to the Pantheon and to a museum. Until the day after next, last day. It was Trevi Fountain; one of the places you wanted to travel to before.

"So this is the end?"

Jaehyun stared deep into your eyes as if enthralling. You nodded slowly when you felt a small pang in your heart. "Jaehyun."

He cocked his head to the side. "Yeah?"

"I'm forgiving you," l stated with a genuine smile on my lips. "And I also mean it. No lies."

"Wait, shit, for real?" He was suddenly jubilant.

The immaculate twinkle in his eyes made your heart even more flutter. He bit his lower lip when he felt his heart pounding in ebullience. Maybe three days were enough to understand and love something good about him.

"Thank you, Y/N. Tha—"

You gave him a smack on the lips before running back to your hotel room. Jaehyun was left there, in his room, still in shocked position. As soon as you closed the door, you leaned back to it and placed your hand to the chest.

You knew what it was.

With your heart into pieces, you try to heal it alone. Not knowing it was him the whole time.

You fell, again.

#nct #nct 127 #nct au #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct smut #jeong jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun au #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun au #nct x reader #jaehyun x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun au

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kpop-zone · 5 years ago

Text

Losing Our Minds | Solar

Warnings: consumption of alcohol

Genre: angst, fluff

Wordcount: 5,682

Request: r gets jealous over moonsun, they have a huge fight about it and r goes to rosé(bp) for comfort and to vent out. Solar finds out and accuses r of cheating. mainly angst but fluff ending pls

Y/N: This story has literally no plot at all, so I’m sorry to the anon who requested it and also to anyone who’s reading it...

Nervously you took a glance at your watch.

10:30 pm

Yongsun still wasn’t home from work and slowly you began panicking. What if something happened? You had already called her countless times and she didn’t respond to your text messages either. You didn’t want to be the kind of partner that didn’t let their significant other breathe, but you were seriously worried by now. Therefore, you searched for Moonbyul’s contact and called her. Maybe she could tell you where your girlfriend was.

It didn’t take long until she picked up and the first thing that you heard was loud laughter in the background. Laughter that sounded awfully similar to your girlfriend’s.

“Moonbyul? Hi, this is Y/N. Do you know where Yongsun is?”

You asked sheepishly, because you felt a little awkward to call your girlfriend’s group member in order to find her.

“Yeah, she’s here with me!”

Moonbyul answered nonchalantly and you started to feel irritation crawling up inside of you.

“Is everything ok?”

You probed, hoping that maybe there was an explanation for all of this. Maybe they had some trouble in the company and the whole group had a meetup at Moonbyul’s to find a solution.

“Of course! Yongsun and I just wanted to let loose a bit after the practice.”

You could hear your girlfriend giggling in the background and by now you had to fight hard to choke down your anger.

“Only the two of you?”

You asked as calmly as possible while jealousy joined the mixture of feelings that wanted to take control of your body right now.

All the members of Mamamoo were close, you knew that. And you had never had a problem with it. You were glad that Yongsun had found a family for life, but nevertheless, you couldn’t help but to be jealous sometimes. Especially when she was flirting with Moonbyul. A lot of fans shipped them and while you tried to not let your jealousy get the best of you, you couldn’t completely ignore their chemistry. What if they truly had feelings for each other and just didn’t want to disrupt the group’s dynamics?

Your thoughts were interrupted when Moonbyul answered your question.

“Yup. Do you want to talk with her?”

She offered but you couldn’t stand to hear her voice right now. Otherwise, the mixture of feelings that was currently seething inside of you would probably erupt.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks.”

You answered shortly before hanging up the phone without losing another word.

You couldn’t believe it. Wanting to relax with a friend after work was one thing, but not even having the decency to inform you about it, was unacceptable.

With your anger still boiling inside of you, you got ready for bed and tried to unwind. Which wasn’t easy, because the spot next to you was still empty. You didn’t have to wait long though until you heard the front door opening. At least, your girlfriend still had enough empathy to know when she had messed up.

You closed your eyes when Yongsun entered the bedroom with the intention to avoid talking to her. Your plan seemed to work, because she silently tiptoed into the bathroom so as not to wake you. When she came back though, she crawled into the bed and instantly scooted closer to you. Reflexively you tried to distance yourself again from her, because you were still mad at her.

“Jagi?”

Yongsun whispered but you remained silent.

Gently, she laid her hand on your hip to catch your attention, but you wiggled yourself out of her grasp and huffed demonstratively. Apparently, she got your cue, because she slowly returned to her side of the bed where she sighed loudly. This was a fight between the two most stubborn people on earth and you were determined to win it. It took you a while till you fell asleep, because you couldn’t stop your brain from working, but eventually your heavy eyelids won the fight.

When you woke up the next morning, Yongsun was already gone. Most days she left earlier than you and you were lowkey grateful for it today. There was a huge argument waiting for you and you definitely weren’t in the mood to endure it in the early morning.

Nevertheless, you dreaded it the whole day. On the one hand, you were still angry and finally wanted to give your anger some room, but on the other hand, you were also really not looking forward to one of your seemingly endless fights with Yongsun. They always lasted several days and none of you ever stepped down from their point of view. But this fight was inevitable. You didn’t want any more frustration to pile up and lead to an even bigger argument.

Therefore, you went home after work without any detours. As soon as you opened the door you could hear Yongsun humming along to a song and you mentally prepared yourself for what was about to come. When you entered the living room, you saw that your girlfriend was laying on the couch, looking at her phone. When she noticed your arrival, she quickly put it down.

“What did I do to deserve your presence today?”

You asked cynically and Yongsun rolled her eyes.

“You can be so annoying sometimes. Do I need your allowance for everything now?”

She bickered back, causing your bottled-up emotions to boil again.

“I’m sorry for worrying about you. But I guess if I’m so annoying, you won’t have to search long for a replacement.”

Your accusation was subtle, but Yongsun instantly noticed it.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She asked with narrowed eyes and a defensive tone.

“Don’t act dumb, Yongsun. Is there something going on between you and Moonbyul?”

You questioned straightforward. You were tired of beating around the bush and finally wanted to know the truth.

Your girlfriend stared at you with her mouth half-open and her forehead scrunched up in confusion. Then, however, her anger returned all at once.

“That’s ridiculous, Y/N! Your jealousy and possessiveness are pathetic.”

She laughed and your heart ached because she discarded your worries like that.

Your feelings jumbled up all the words in your brain and you were left speechless. You gulped thickly to choke down the tears that threatened to fall. Your feelings weren’t important to your girlfriend. That was for sure; instead she called you pathetic. Her insult echoed in your head and you couldn’t find any fitting comeback. This battle was lost, but you weren’t willing to let Yongsun win the war. Therefore, you needed time to recover.

“Well I think, I’m doing you a favor then if I leave.”

You spat out before turning on your heel and storming out of the apartment.

You couldn’t believe Yongsun’s stubbornness. How could she ridicule your question like that? You weren’t the only one that was seeing a spark between Moonbyul and her. There were several fans that would back you up on your theory. Of course, they didn’t know either of them privately like you did. But honestly, sometimes you felt like you were third wheeling Moonbyul and Yongsun when you were together with them, instead of the other way around.

Therefore, you didn’t stop as you ran downstairs to escape another verbal jab by your girlfriend. You definitely needed some time to get a clear head again. As soon as you had left the building tears streamed down your face and you stood on the sidewalk like a lost puppy. You couldn’t go back to your apartment anymore, but where else were you supposed to go now? Therefore, you dialed the first number that came to your mind.

“Chae? Yongsun and I had a fight, can I crash at your place?”

Your best friend was the only person that you wanted to see right now. And as reliable as she was, it was no wonder that she immediately ordered you to come over.

As soon as you had knocked on her door, it swung open and she wrapped her arms tightly around you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

She mumbled against your head, while slowly pulling you inside the apartment.

Together you sat down in the living room where you started to tell her everything. Chaeyoung listened attentively and gave you several tissues throughout your monologue, because your tears only stopped rolling down your cheeks at the very end. You looked at her desperate for any advice, so she patted your shoulder lightly.

“Hm I think there is only one solution for that.”

She said once you were done talking, causing you to look at her expectantly.

You expected her to say a some encouraging empty phrase, but instead Chaeyoung leaped to her feet and held out her hand for you.

“We have to get your mind off things.”

She announced with a big grin and you looked at her in confusion.

“I wanted to go partying tonight anyways, so I’m just going to take you with me. What better way to forget things than to drown your worries in alcohol?”

Chaeyoung continued and you defensively held up your hands. You definitely weren’t in the mood to celebrate or to dance right now.

“Forget it. I’m not leaving the house looking like this. Besides, I don’t even have the right clothes with me.”

You tried to save yourself, but when you saw Chaeyoung’s smirk, you knew that you had lost the debate.

“Let me worry about that!”

She winked at you before pulling you off the couch and into her bedroom.

You didn’t even have time to protest before you looked at yourself in the mirror with some tighter clothes on and some makeup to conceal your puffy eyes.

“Ready to rumble?”

Chaeyoung asked cheekily and you sighed in desperation, because you truly didn’t want to go to a club. But your best friend didn’t want to see you sad like this any longer. Therefore, she took your hand in hers and dragged you out of the apartment.

The two of you made your first stop at a bar where Chaeyoung put you up to drinking almost a whole bottle of Soju by yourself in only a short amount of time to loosen you up. She reached her goal rather quickly, because you were a lightweight and suddenly, you couldn’t even wait to go to the club. Therefore, you quickly pulled your friend out of the bar and into the place that you hoped could numb your misery.

It didn’t take you long till you got accommodated to the buzzing chaos in the club. People were bumping into your body from left and right and the music was so loud that your eardrum felt like it was close to bursting. You didn’t mind one bit though and instantly jumped right into the crowd.

Chaeyoung, on the other hand, had decided to babysit you tonight, because she knew about your drunken vices. Whenever you went past your limit, you were extremely hyper and could seemingly teleport yourself to places where you shouldn’t be. One second you were on the dancefloor, the next one you were getting yourself another drink at the bar, the next second you were stumbling out of the club, because you needed some fresh air. And to worsen everything, you were extremely clingy too.

“Come on, Chaeyoung. Dance with me!”

You slurred over the loud music while throwing your arms around your best friend’s neck and dragging her to the dance floor. Chaeyoung chuckled because of your behavior and let you clumsily move your body to the beat while she only moved from one foot to the other to be able to block any gross drunks from getting too close to you. As long as you had fun and didn’t think about Yongsun, Chaeyoung was happy to be your babysitter.

“I love that song!”

You suddenly yelled before pulling out your phone and starting to film yourself.

“Rosé!!”

You slurred before almost crashing into her body and starting to dance with her.

Chaeyoung giggled because she was already used to your drunken antics. Nevertheless, she slowly took away your phone, because she didn’t want this video to convey a wrong impression. While she knew that this was nothing more than drunken affection for a friend, others might think that you could be more than that. You pouted shortly when you realized that you weren’t holding anything in your hands anymore, but then the next song came on and you forgot about your phone.

Your drunken behavior held on for the next two hours but then your batteries slowly died down and you started to weave like you were halfdead. Eventually calling it a night, Chaeyoung ordered the two of you a ride and decided that it was best if you stayed over at her place. The way to her apartment turned out to be a bigger challenge than thought, but eventually you were laying in her bed dead asleep.

For you, this night had been the best in a while. You had forgotten about your fight with Yongsun and actually enjoyed every minute to the fullest. On the other side of town, however, a new crisis started to form.

----

Yongsun tossed and turned in her bed. She hated to sleep without you, but at the same time, she was still mad at your accusation. Moonbyul and her? That was ridiculous. All the members were like family to her and she thought that she had made it clear that she only loved you.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t unwind. The fight was still replaying in her head and she couldn’t even think about sleeping. Therefore, she grumpily picked up her phone from her nightstand and opened Instagram to distract herself. But her plan failed when she saw that you had posted something in your story.

She was laying here, pondering about your fight and you were out there, having fun?

Yongsun scoffed, but immediately opened your story.

When she saw the content, she abruptly sat up in her bed.

“What the...”

She mumbled before replaying your story.

You were dancing closely with Chaeyoung and were throwing yourself at her. Yongsun couldn’t believe her eyes. You were accusing her of cheating and now you did the same to get revenge? Although her heart ached, she couldn’t stop replying the short clip over and over again. Every time you slid your arms around Chaeyoung’s neck, it felt like someone was ramming a dagger into her heart. Yongsun closed her eyes to avoid seeing the pictures on her screen, but then her imagination started to run wild. She didn’t want to know, what the two of you were doing right in this moment.

Suddenly tears sprung to Yongsun’s eyes. This couldn’t be. You drove her insane, but she had never actually considered losing you.

“Y/N... Please don’t.”

She whispered as if you could hear her.

She could forgive you for your ridiculous jealousy, but she couldn’t forgive you if you ever cheated on her. Her tears fell at a rapid pace when she thought about you moving on from her and she hugged her own body in need for comfort. Her tears streamed down her cheeks until she eventually passed out in exhaustion. In her dreams, she was haunted by the pictures of you storming out the apartment and dancing with Chaeyoung. Yongsun wanted to escape her nightmares, but her body was too exhausted to stay awake, so she kept being trapped in all the torturing scenarios that her mind could make up. Eventually, it was the sun that freed her from her misery and forced her to jolt awake.

It needed Yongsun a while to open her eyes, but after almost falling back into the same dream, she quickly sat up in her bed. Her gaze automatically wandered to her side and although she had known that you wouldn’t be laying next to her, her heart broke a little when she saw the empty space. Not being able to stand the loneliness any longer, she quickly got out of bed and rushed into the bathroom to move on with her day, in hopes that she could forget about you.

When Yongsun looked into the bathroom mirror, she almost jumped in shock. The traces that your fight had left were clearly visible. Her whole face was puffy and dark circles were decorating her eyes. Even a blind person could see that she had cried all night. Quickly she averted her gaze and pulled out all the makeup in her possession to fix her appearance.

After almost two hours, she looked like herself again and someone who didn’t know her, would never guess that she had experienced the worst night of her life. Satisfied with the results, she left the bathroom. But as soon as she stood in front of the bed and saw your side untouched, the pain in her chest grew again while her anger flared up. Makeup could maybe fix her appearance but not the hole in her heart.

“What you can do, I can do as well.”

Yongsun mumbled to herself while staring at the empty bed.

If you avoided her by running away, she wouldn’t just be waiting here for your return. Especially not after what you had done last night. Therefore, she packed a bag with her essential things and decided to move to Hyejin for a while. The maknae had just gotten a new and big apartment that was good enough to house her until she had figured out what to do with you.

After Yongsun had packed, she checked her appearance one last time in the mirror before leaving the apartment with the intention of not coming back today. Big sunglasses were covering her dark circles and the coffee to go in her hand was supposed to make her feel a little more alive. With her head held high in hopes to fake a good mood, she walked into the practice room of RBW Entertainment, but her members immediately realized that something was wrong.

“You look tired.”

“Haven’t you slept well?”

“What’s bugging you?”

Yongsun was bombarded with questions after not even five minutes. However, she wasn’t ready to talk about the events of the day before yet, but she knew that her members wouldn’t let loose. Therefore, she had to promise them that she would tell them everything after their schedule of the day had ended. One meeting followed the other and the hours dragged on endlessly because Yongsun neither had the energy nor the concentration to do anything at all, making even the staff notice that something was off.

“Ya Yongsun. What’s wrong with you?”

Their producer scolded her after she had sung the wrong line three times in a row.

Her members came to her defense as often as possible, but eventually the producer decided that this session was a waste of time and let them go early.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We all have our bad days. We’re just going to eat our worries away later.”

Wheein tried to cheer her up with a wink while patting her shoulder encouragingly.

But Yongsun still felt like a failure. Her relationship was a mess and now she had managed to ruin her reputation at work as well. She wished that she could just rewind the past 24 hours. Maybe talking about her problems would make everything better. Therefore, she dragged her feet out of the company and drove to Hyejin’s apartment where all the members ordered some food and immediately sat down in the living room to be able to hear about the reason for their leader’s bad mood.

Confidently Yongsun started to tell them about the fight. Only thinking about your accusation made her chuckle bitterly and she searched for her member’s support. They would surely agree with her on how ridiculous this whole scenario was. Her confidence slowly faded, however, as her members stayed dead silent throughout her narration and looked at each other insecurely.

Yongsun expected some kind of reaction after she was done talking, but all of them kept avoiding her gaze.

“Is nobody going to say anything? You agree with me that Y/N was wrong, right?”

She asked nervously, but when her members remained quiet, an unsettling feeling started to rise in Yongsun’s stomach.

Eventually the youngest member ended her torture and finally voiced her opinion.

“Honestly, I don’t. I would have left you ages ago.”

Hyejin chuckled while munching on her food, not realizing that Yongsun’s stern gaze had fixed on her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She asked annoyed and the youngest member finally realized that she might have said the wrong thing.

With wide eyes, she glanced at the other members, searching for help.

“Come on Yongsun. Can you really blame Y/N? It’s hard enough to date an idol as a non-idol. But then you have to flirt with Moonbyul all the time to the point that our fans actually think the two of you are married?”

Wheein came to her defense and Yongsun looked at them perplexed.

“But that’s ridiculous. We’re basically family.”

She responded, but all her members shook their head.

“Maybe for you. But how is Y/N supposed to know that?”

Moonbyul stated, causing Yongsun to be at a loss for words.

“So are you on Y/N’s side now?”

She asked in disbelief, but her members instantly denied her accusation.

“We’re not on Y/N’s side. But maybe your initial fight hasn’t been completely unjustified. I mean, I would have kicked my ass a long while ago if I was in Y/N’s shoes...”

Moonbyul explained causing Yongsun to become pensive.

Had she been too harsh with you?

If you truly had been right to voice your concerns, then her reaction must have been hurtful, and you had had a good reason to storm out the apartment.

Slowly realization began to sink in.

“Guys, I think I have messed up.”

Yongsun said in shock and her members instantly hugged her from all sides.

But despite the comfort of her members, Yongsun knew that this night would be another one that she spent tossing and turning.

----

“Good morning sunshine!”

When Chaeyoung entered the room while yelling loudly and opening the blinds, you groaned in annoyance and tried to hide your face under your pillow. But your best friend immediately took away your shield.

“It’s time to wake up. It’s already 2pm.”

When you heard the time, you quickly jolted awake in shock, regretting your action soon after though, because a stinging pain shot through your head.

“2 pm?”

You asked in disbelief while clutching your head in hopes to lessen the pain.

“Yes, I wasn’t even sure whether you’re alive anymore.”

Chaeyoung chuckled, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes.

Slowly the events of the day before started flooding your head, causing regret to grow like a bad gathering. You regretted drinking so much that you felt like a truck had run you over. You regretted fighting with Yongsun. And you regretted running away from her.

“I think, I need to puke.”

You suddenly choked out before sprinting to the bathroom.

As you were hanging over the toilet while Chaeyoung stroked your back to make you feel better, you thought about everything that had happened yesterday. You were finally able to think clearly again as your anger had ceased.

Did you really think that Yongsun would ever cheat on you? Or did your jealousy get the better of you?

Maybe Yongsun hadn’t reacted correctly to your accusation, but nevertheless, you trusted her with your life. You shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. If you had only talked calmly with her about your worries, instead of accusing her, this whole catastrophe might have been avoidable.

Hopefully it wasn’t too late to fix things.

“I think, I have to go home now.”

You mumbled after you had emptied your stomach and Chaeyoung looked at you pitiful.

“Are you sure that you can face Yongsun again?”

She asked worried, but you instantly nodded in response.

“This isn’t the first fight we have had. And maybe we were both wrong and it’s time to be the bigger person.”

You tried mustering a smile to express your positivity. Your head, however, quickly started hammering as you lifted it and so you decided to start your day slowly.

After having a rather cold shower and drinking some coffee, you were starting to feel like a normal again and were ready to behave like an adult in front of your girlfriend. It was already late afternoon, when you drove back to your apartment, but you knew that Yongsun was still at work anyways.

Therefore, you started preparing some dinner after you had arrived, hoping that you could appease your girlfriend with good food. But the hands of the clock took their steady turn without you hearing your girlfriend ever entering the apartment. Flashbacks of that disastrous night came back to you as it was almost 10:30 pm again.

Was this relationship just not meant to be fixed?

You came with the intention of doing your bit for the reconciliation, but it seemed like Yongsun wasn’t ready yet. Desperation and loneliness brought tears to your eyes and you crawled into your bed in hopes that the arms of your girlfriend would wrap around you from behind like always when she came home late. But not that night. The bed was still empty the next morning and tears started pooling in your eyes. Where was Yongsun? Had she already moved on from you and was out there enjoying her single life again? Or had she been seeking comfort at a friend’s house like you did? You were hoping for the latter case and so you dialed Moonbyul’s number once again.

Your heart beat faster with every ringing of the phone until you were greeted with the person’s voice that had taken a crucial part in all this chaos.

“Y/N?”

Moonbyul’s voice sounded a lot less relaxed this time and you guessed that Yongsun had talked with her about your fight.

“Hey, Moonbyul.”

Your shaky voice was giving away that you had cried, and you gulped thickly in hopes to conceal your miserable state.

“Is Yongsun with you?”

You asked, not knowing whether you’d rather be sure about your girlfriend’s whereabouts or if everything would become more complicated if she’d with the person that you had accused her of cheating with.

“No... she’s not here.”

Moonbyul answered hesitantly, indicating that she probably knew more than she was telling you.

“Do you know where she is?”

You probed, causing your girlfriend’s best friend to sigh on the other end.

“Just that we are clear: I’m not on your side, but I feel bad for causing your fight and I don’t want you guys to break up. Plus I don’t want to believe that you have actually cheated. So I’m telling you this in good faith. Yongsun is at Hyejin’s.”

Moonbyul revealed, but you were taken aback by her statement before that.

“Cheated?”

You asked perplexed.

“Yeah, Yongsun saw your Insta story.”

She responded reproachfully and you ended up being even more confused.

Quickly you thanked her for her information before hanging up the call to be able to check your Instagram.

You opened your old stories and realized in shock that you truly had uploaded one the night before yesterday. There wasn’t a lot that you remembered from back then. Therefore, you were assuming that you hadn’t done a lot of rational things. Hesitantly you clicked on your story and ended up watching it with wide eyes. You were closely dancing with Chaeyoung and were practically throwing yourself at her.

For you, it was clear that you would never start something with your best friend, but you weren’t so sure about Yongsun.

The irony of the situation was truly unbelievable.

You had been accusing your girlfriend of cheating on you with her best friend because they were awfully close and now, she was probably pulling the reverse card. But you couldn’t let your relationship come to an end because of some misunderstandings.

Determined you leaped to your feet and rushed to the door after grabbing your keys. This hide and seek had to end now. Without thinking about a plan, you rushed to Hyejin’s apartment to finally clear things up. Only when you stood in front of the door, your nervousness had caught up to you. What were you supposed to say? Would your girlfriend even open the door? Anxiously you rang the doorbell and waited for the door to open, while taking glances at the camera that was installed above the door. You couldn’t know for sure, but you assumed that Hyejin and Yongsun were discussing whether to let you in or not right in this moment.

After what felt like an eternity, the door eventually swung open and revealed your girlfriend that was looking at you sternly.

“What do you want?”

Yongsun said annoyed and your heart clenched because of her harsh tone.

“I-I think we need to talk.”

You stuttered insecurely while looking at your girlfriend with pleading eyes.

Yongsun barely met your eyes and shifted her gaze nervously from one point to the other. You hated to see her this anxious. Her eyes were puffy just like yours and she didn’t seem like she had gotten much sleep either. All you wanted to do was to step forward and wrap your arms around her. But you knew that you weren’t on hugging terms yet. Therefore, you kept awkwardly standing in front of her, waiting for her sentence.

Eventually she stepped to the side, barely noticeable and you sighted in relief. Sheepishly you followed her into the apartment where Hyejin was standing in the kitchen, looking at Yongsun and asking her silently whether she wanted her to stay or not.

“It’s ok.”

Yongsun whispered and Hyejin nodded before looking at you warningly and leaving the room.

A cold shudder ran down your spine and you made a mental note to never hurt Yongsun again because you were sure that her members wouldn’t shy back from slashing your tires or throwing eggs at your house.

“What do you have to say?”

Yongsun asked once you sat down on the couch and you gulped thickly.

Your words would significantly decide how the rest of your life would look like, but you had no idea how to start. What if she wouldn’t believe you?

“Um... I don’t really know how to start.”

You admitted while tugging at your sleeves nervously. Yongsun seemed to be equally on edge as you as she was shifting in her seat and avoiding your gaze. Silence thickened the air around you, and you felt like suffocating. Someone needed to make the first step.

“Did you cheat?”

Yongsun suddenly blurted out and although you were already prepared for her accusation, you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Of course not! I would never cheat on you, Yongsun. I know this stupid video looks bad, but Chaeyoung and I are just friends.”

You tried to justify yourself, but Yongsun’s eyes slowly filled with tears and your heart broke.

“So I’m supposed to just believe you, but you’re allowed to doubt my loyalty, because of Moonbyul?”

Yongsun asked agitatedly causing you to lunge forward and grab her hands reflexively.

“Please believe me, jagi.”

Her pet name left your mouth effortlessly, causing Yongsun to snap her eyes up to look at you.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to snap at you two days ago. But your constant flirting with Moonbyul had really gotten to me and I was so insecure. I don’t know why I accused you of cheating, I never even believed my own words.”

Tears suddenly started streaming down your cheeks while you poured your heart out and Yongsun tightened her grasp on your hand. When you felt her touch, all your dams broke, and you started crying uncontrollably. You would do anything to keep Yongsun in your life.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you.”

You sobbed and suddenly, you could feel arms wrapping around your body.

“It’s ok Y/N. I was wrong too. I should have never discarded your worries like that. But I have never even thought about cheating on you, especially not with Moonbyul, so your accusation really caught me off guard.”

Yongsun explained and you clung to her arms, because for a moment you had doubted that you would ever be able to feel her embrace again.

Relief washed over you as Yongsun kept kissing the top of your head and although you knew that it was unlikely, you hoped that the two of you would never fight again.

“Can we please never fight like that again?”

You begged and your girlfriend vehemently nodded.

“I guess we’ll always fight, but please don’t ever run away again.”

She responded, making you realize that you hadn’t been the only one that had suffered from the separation.

“Can we call the others now and watch TV?”

Hyejin’s voice suddenly cut through the silence and Yongsun and you both jumped in surprise.

“Have you been standing there the whole time?”

Yongsun asked perplexed when she realized that the maknae was lurking behind the half open door.

“What? This was better than every Kdrama.”

Hyejin answered nonchalantly while shuffling into the living room and plopping down beside the two of you.

Yongsun looked at her scandalized and immediately leaped to her feet to scold her. You definitely had enough drama for the day though, so you quickly pulled your girlfriend back into your arms and pressed a kiss on the crown of her head.

“You can call yourself lucky because Y/N is here.”

She grumbled under her breath in defeat, causing Hyejin and you to laugh loudly.

“I’m glad the old Yongsun is back again.”

The maknae chuckled and you pulled your girlfriend even closer.

Maybe you made each other lose your minds when you were together. But you’d rather go crazy with her than to ever live without her.

#mamamoo scenario #mamamoo #yongsun scenario #yongsun #solar scenario #solar #girl group scenario #girl group #kpop scenario #kpop #imagine

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jaeminlore · 5 years ago

Text

Amor Libertatis | Mark

summary: the freedom of love.

words: 12.4k+

category: fisherman!mark x princess!reader, FLUFF, angst, a lot of wordbuilding i got carried away

warning(s): death mention, war mention, blood mention, mark smells like fish, repetitive writing

a/n: alternate title is The Multiple Confessions of Two Dumbasses Who Don’t Get It™️

The ballroom is a grand flourish of shiny hardwood floors and high ceilings. The firelight of the chandeliers reflects off of blue quartz stones, sending a blue haze around the room. White roses hang from the doors, leaving every guest with a shoulder of rose petals by the time they enter the room.

It's genuinely beautiful, and it seems to put the staff of the palace in good spirits. The cooks set out fluffy miguelitos and bubbly rosé cava over cream-colored doilies. The servants fake-fight with the leftover rose stems, shrieking in laughter when one of them gets pricked.

The guests will be here any moment. You, as part of your coronation celebration, invited every fisherman and sailor in the kingdom for a night of repose. Though many of your noble friends were apprehensive about it, you have found favor with the staff, and together, you worked out a special night for the main exporters of your kingdom.

The royal band is rehearsing in the corner; the sound of a bandurria tuning echoes throughout the room. Someone plays a sour note on their guitar, and it sparks a jolt of laughter throughout the room.

The tall windows are unlatched and open wide, sending the sound of waves crashing and fishermen shouting up into the cliffside castle.

You feel elated, amazed at the joy that runs throughout the room. Looking out the window, you can see a bunch of fishermen bringing their boats into the harbor. The men are joking around and laughing, and you can't help but selfishly think they're all excited for tonight.

"Anna," you call one of the servants over.

She slips her arm around yours and peers out of the window with you. "They look happy."

"Yes," you say, following the form of one small child as he races up and down the docks. "Has the transportation been set out for the families? With outfits from the measurements we took?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Anna sounds almost as excited as you. "By tonight, we'll have a ballroom full of families. The entire west wing has been cleared for the children to sleep in as well, should the parents drink too much calent."

You giggle at her words. "Yes, that's very smart. Remind me to thank the nannies for all they're preparing for the children. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Anne sighs wistfully, eyes locked on the faraway docks. "Do you think any fishermen our age will come by?"

"Are you on the lookout for a husband, Anne?" You quip with a remarked stare.

The girl elbows you gently. She lifts her nose into the air indignantly. "I'm of age. It's proper."

"Oh, it's proper alright," you giggle, hastily avoiding Anne's next, not-as-gentle elbowing to the side.

The castle looms over the docks like an ominous shadow. Mark peers up at it, wondering why on earth any fisherman would feel welcome there. "We're going to stand out like sore thumbs."

"It's for us, you buzzkill," Jaehyun shoves an empty bucket into Mark's arms. "Take this to the lower deck."

Mark can't help but wonder if Jaehyun ever thinks about how bad they smell. He wonders how many royals will be at this ball, and he wonders how many will laugh at him. He ignores Jaehyun's instructions. "Do you think it's a set up?"

Jaehyun sighs and uses the bottom of his already-dirty shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He's obviously tired of Mark's worrying, but he'll never say it out loud. "I think the princess is doing her best to make allies after what the last monarchs pulled."

Mark still remembers it: the day many fishermen were taken from their homes and forced to fight a war that wasn't theirs. They became a navy of untrained soldiers against pirates and merchants with no morale and a lot of weapons. He remembers the last day he ever saw his father and brother. He remembers wanting to fight, too, but being too young. He remembers becoming a fisherman as young as ten years old, because he had to provide for his grieving mother. Then she couldn't handle it any more, and he had to attend a funeral for three people instead of two.

He remembers that no one ever let him grieve, and the castle feels ominous all over again. "I don't know if I'm going to go."

"Aren't you curious?" Jaehyun asks. "Don't you want to see if the princess is going to apologize? Or if she's just as fake as her parents before her?"

Mark wonders if the princess ever got to mourn.

"I don't know if I want to find out," Mark admits. He adjusts the heavy bucket and goes to do the job he is getting paid to do. He turns to shout over his shoulder, "But if you go, bring me back some castle food!"

Mark, of all people, knows what it feels like to be alone. He must be the only fisherman not excited about the party, and it's not all for shallow reasons. Mostly, he's the only one without a family to take.

He thinks of Jaehyun, bringing his brothers, and Kun, bringing his family — a wife and two daughters. He thinks of Lucas' little son, who can't stop talking about the outfit he was measured for.

There is such joy in sharing with others, and Mark knows he'll feel extremely alone if he goes. He'll just burden all of his friends, who want to be with their families.

He checks all of the boats and makes sure they're secure at the harbor. The night is warm and windy. The party is surely starting soon, or perhaps it has already started.

He looks up at the castle. Light pours from the large windows. If he listens close enough, he can hear the sound of music and laughing.

He wants to climb on a boat and sail away for the night, just to forget all of it.

"Are you not going to join the festivities?"

Mark jumps at the noise. He turns around and sees a girl, dressed in turquoise-colored silk. There's a split down each side, so that when she walks, Mark notices the knee-length sandals. That's normally a tell that someone is royal, but then again, he wonders if the princess gave everyone royal-grade clothing. He wouldn't know.

He realizes he hasn't answered. He's just been staring for an odd amount of time. "Er, no. I'm not exactly a dancer," he lies, thinking it's easier than belting out his own personal sob story.

"I can't either," the girl says. She gives him a bright smile. "Something I think that makes dancing more fun."

Mark shrugs. He feels warm, but he brushes it off as the mugginess of the night. "I have to secure the boats, and I smell like fish."

"The entire ballroom smells like fish," she says, and Mark thinks for a moment that she's being insulting. Then, he receives another bright smile. "It's wonderful! It feels like we're right on the docks, dancing and laughing. One of the lovely fishermen is teaching my– er– the ladies about sea shanties. They're rather dirty in verse, but it's fun to sing them! I'm sure we'll be hearing the words down the corridors for weeks to come."

She says everything nearly out of breath. Her cheeks are red, and she seems to always be on the verge of a laugh. Every word that comes out of her mouth seems spoken in prose, so much so that Mark wonders how anyone could find life so rewarding.

"I suppose you're a noble, then," he says.

"I am."

Mark risks another look at her face (though he had never actually looked away) and notices her hair is gathered into a braid. It cascades down her chest and ends with a seashell clipped to the bottom. Her eyes reflect the moonlight.

He feels self conscious all of a sudden. "Well, have fun then."

"Won't you come?"

Mark stills the moment her hand comes into contact with his. She's close now, clasping his hand like it will change his mind. Maybe it will.

"I don't really belong there."

"Everyone belongs," she says sternly, eyes suddenly hard. "I won't let anyone tell you different. This ball is about coming together as equals and apologizing for past grievances. This is a new start. You should be a part of it."

Mark isn't sure why, but he lets her pull him all the way up the cliffs, straight into the castle.

The boy does look out of place, you notice. "Here, let's get you into some regal clothing."

You desperately hope he doesn't ask what type of noble you are, because you would really hate to lose the trust of this young fishermen you've found. Something about his hesitance makes you think he wouldn't want to meet the princess. He wouldn't want to meet you.

You bring him into one of the spare rooms and leaf through the wardrobe. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Uh. Mark."

You toss a black shirt and trousers at him. "Change into these, Mark. Behind that screen."

The top of his head can be seen over the screen, so you focus on his black locks while you wait. "My name is Y/n. It's a pretty common name, I know."

"I haven't heard it before," Mark comments, struggling with a piece of clothing.

When he comes out from behind the screen, his shirt is tucked in and rolled up the fisherman way. You find it adorable, because it's how every man showed up this evening. Still, you can't help but want to see what Mark would look like dressed as a noble.

You approach him and pull his sleeves down, clipping the seashell cufflinks where they belong. Then, you grab a turquoise cummerbund and wrap it around the black attire, tying it in the back so that it's the only pop of color on his body.

You step back and look at him. "Very handsome. Oh! I'll get some oils so you don't feel self-conscious about your smell."

He doesn't smell that bad. Honestly, it's obvious that a fisherman would smell a little funny: it's part of the job. So it's nothing to make fun of, really.

Still, you find some lavender and lemon scented oils in the vanity and sprinkle them onto his shoulder and neck. "Now don't rub it in. Just let it set."

Mark still looks out of place. Not in appearance, he just has this look on his face that says "I don't want to be here."

"I promise you'll have a nice time," you say. "And if not, we can sneak out a jug of cante and get out of here, yeah?"

Mark's face softens with relief and he smiles. "Okay."

"Great! Now let's go!" You grab his hand and pull him down the hallway, into the grand ballroom.

Mark lets out an audible gasp of surprise at the decorations, and the people. "It's... It's really nice."

"Thank you," you say. "It took forever to plan."

"You planned it?" Mark asks, eyeing you confusedly.

The base of your neck feels hot. "I helped, I mean. It's impossible for one person to plan a grand display like this."

"Right. Oh, there's Jaehyun." Mark points to the tall man talking to Anne. "He's my friend."

"He's talking to my friend, Anne. We should go talk to them!"

Jaehyun looks surprised to see Mark at the party. He looks even more surprised to see his hand in yours. "You work fast, don't you, Mark?"

Mark jerks his hand out of your grip. "She uh, she was just helping me find something to wear."

Anne eyes you. "Was she? Were you given no clothes?"

"I found him on the docks," you say quickly, trying to telepathically talk to Anne with your eyes. "I thought he might like to join us."

"I tried to get him to come along," Jaehyun says, smiling. His smile is sweet, soft like fluffy icing. "If I had known all I needed was a pretty girl to convince him, I would've done it sooner."

"Ah, it wasn't like that," Mark says. He fiddles with the cummerbund, hooking his thumb under the seam and running the pad across. "She just said you guys were having fun. So I thought I would try it."

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say more, but he hides his smile behind a gulp of rosé.

Anne greets Mark. "Is it just you?"

Mark bristles. "Yeah," he says, a warning laced in his voice. "For a long time now."

"No wife?" Anne presses, and you notice Mark keeps tensing.

"Anne, that's enough," you say. "I'm going to show Mark around."

You pull the reluctant boy over to the closest table of food and hand him a fluke of pink liquid. "I'm sorry about her. She doesn't mean to be as invasive as she is."

Mark downs the entire thing in one gulp and stares down at his shoes. "Yeah, it's fine. I just. You know, not all of our families survived the war."

Your heart softens, and your chest burns with the sort of empathy one gets when they've experienced grief. "From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. If my— if the king and queen had known what they were truly doing—"

"It shouldn't have even crossed their minds," Mark snaps, cutting a cold glare across the room. "Where is the princess anyway? Isn't she supposed to apologize for their mistakes tonight?"

Your voice feels watery in your throat. "She already did. That's how she opened the night."

"Huh," Mark furrows his brows. "What did she say?"

You swallow down your urge to get upset. He's only asking for closure. "She apologized for her parents' actions. Said she hopes to rule better than them, and never have to put the lower class in danger like that again. She reminded everyone that you are just as important as she is, and that you deserve the same rights as her — you should get to choose if you want to fight."

Mark looks torn. "Okay," he says, and drops the subject for the night.

Mark goes home pretty quickly after that. He feels pain in the depths of his stomach, and he knows he shouldn't take it out on you, so he leaves.

He walks home, since his home is just a simple shack right under the cliffs near the ocean. He unties the cummerbund and rips the cuff links off of his sleeves.

With the moon as his only light, he sits on the beach with his feet in the tide. He watches the moon until it becomes hard to keep his eyes open, and then he goes to sleep, the smell of lavender and lemon still on his skin.

He's on net-making duty the next day, so he sits in the same spot on the beach. His hands burn from the amount of times he's pulled on the ropes, making sure they're tight and secure enough to hold hundreds of fish.

The waves lap at his ankles until midday, when the tide retracts, and he's left hot and sweaty under the sun.

That's when you arrive.

You look different from last night, dressed down this time in a pair of cotton trousers and a simple white shirt. Your boots crunch over the sand and pebbles as you walk over and hand him a package. "I had your clothes cleaned."

Mark eyes the package for a moment before he sighs, drops his net, and takes it. "Thanks."

"Sure." You point to the net. "Did you make that by yourself?"

Mark accidentally lets out a laugh. "Well, nets don't just appear, you see."

You shove his arm, and Mark finds that your hand feels almost cool against his hot skin. "I know that. I was going to compliment you, but I think I'll take it back now."

"Oh no," Mark says. A teasing smile makes its way to his face before he can stop it. "How will I keep going, now?"

You giggle. It makes Mark feel abnormally proud, as if he's suddenly the funniest person on earth. Which he certainly isn't. He knows it's weird, so he tries to bury it down in the same place he buried the memory of your hand in his. "Shouldn't you get back to the castle?" It comes out more harshly then he intends it to, but he really can't be around you for too long without feeling weird things. Odd things.

"I suppose," you shrug. "I don't want to though. I spent all morning helping clean up and I just want to rest now.

Mark feels a blister forming under his thumb. "Sounds rough."

"Sorry," you manage to look bashful. "I know I have it good. I shouldn't complain. Hey, maybe I could help you!"

"I don't need help," Mark says. "Besides, you wouldn't know how to tie these knots."

"I would if you'd teach me." You catch Mark's gaze and hold it until he looks away, shaking his head softly. You begin to plead. "Look, I'm a really quick learner! And I don't make my tutors repeat things! I can help!"

"You have a tutor?" Mark scoffs. "Aren't you learning a lot more interesting things than how to tie knots?"

"I'm learning about foreign policies," you roll your eyes. "And while it's important, it's tragically boring. I think the life of a sailor must be much more fun."

Mark can agree with that. In fact, he plans on one day having his own boat, and spending his enter life on the water, away from people and families and the castle and any other reminder of his loss. "I'm going to sail away one day. No one will ever see me again."

You stay quiet for a moment, and Mark begins to wonder if he somehow offended you. Surely not. You've only known him for a day; you wouldn't care if he left. Then you say, "You're quite sure no one would miss you, then?"

"Why would they? Everyone has their own lives. Everyone has moved on already."

You sit with Mark in silence while he finishes his net, and then you bid him goodbye just as Jaehyun invites him to his house for supper.

Mark sort of wishes you would have stayed, and he could've spent the night sitting beside you.

The castle feels empty more than full most nights. You suppose it's just your heart, reaching around corners for a parent that no longer exists. You remember when they both came down with tuberculosis. You remember not being able to see them during their last few months. You remember living in a little cottage with your advisor as the castle was inspected and cleaned.

Sometimes you think the castle is haunted by the souls of your parents. There have been many nights when you feel someone stroking your hair the way your mother used to. Maybe you're just making it up, but you like to think she's still with you, as well as your father.

You love them dearly. Though everyone says the tuberculosis was karma for sending so many innocent people into battle, you can't help but want to ask what other option they had.

The pirates had been closing in on all sides. The castle's knights were already on the sea, fighting, and they needed reinforcements. Who else could've been chosen? No one else knew the sea as well. And in the end, it worked, and many of the fishermen returned home to their families.

You figure Mark is one of the unlucky ones.

If you could, you'd take it all back. No one would fight at all, and you'd fix it some other way, whether diplomatically or not. Definitely not by sending innocent people into battle. That was never the goal.

You kiss your mother's rosary and tuck it against your chest. Maybe she would be proud of the steps you're taking. Maybe she would desperately disagree with getting so close to the lower class.

But they aren't disposable. That had been proven in just one night, when you met every fisherman and their family personally. They are all important. They are all real. They are alive, and they won't be used as pawns ever again.

Your bedroom is just as empty as the halls. But here, the walls don't echo, so you freely recite a prayer to your mother, asking her how to do this. How to make hard decisions and save people at the same time. How to rule a country without losing your heart.

You don't see Mark until a week later, when he's seen helping sell fish at the market.

There's a scarf tied around his head to keep the sweat out of his eyes, and it's rather cute the way his wavy black hair falls over it. You approach the smelly booth and shoot Mark a wide smile. "How have you been?"

"Me?" Mark's eyes widen, and he uses his gloved hand to point to himself.

"Who else? The mackerel?" You point to a random fish.

"Actually, that's a bream." Mark says with a smile. Then he frowns. "I don't know how I've been. My hands are burning from making nets all week, and all I can think about is dipping them in these ice buckets. But there are fish guts in those, so I've been able to contain myself."

You laugh, catching the eye of another fisherman. "Oh, hi, Jaehyun."

"Hey, Y/n. Come to take Mark away from the torturous life of a fisherman?" He rests his hand on his forehead dramatically.

"Can I do that?" you ask, looking from one boy to the other.

"He always eats at my house anyways," Jaehyun says. "And it's my boat he works for, so sure. Just don't make him use his hands," he winks.

You cough out a laugh, sure your cheeks are just as red as Mark's.

Mark quickly unties his apron and shoves his gloves off of his hands. You notice his palms are pink and raw, and it makes you think of the healers back at the castle. "Hey, I know you're not a big fan of the castle, so I can go by and get it, but I have a balm that can heal your hands a lot quicker."

Mark looks up towards the faraway cliffs, where the castle stands. "Maybe... if we don't take long... I can go back in."

Mark kind of wishes his hands weren't messed up. Not because they would hurt less (though that would be nice) but because now you aren't trying at all to hold his hand, and that makes Mark just a tad bit sad. Okay, maybe a lot more than a tad bit.

You bring him into a healer's room, where the walls are draped in herbs and random flowers that probably have some sort of healing properties. He sees a boiling cauldron in the corner, and shelves upon shelves of vials.

"Ten is quite the hoarder," you say as a way of explanation.

He sits on the cot while you grab the balm and some bandages. Then, you sit beside him and take his left hand first. You place it upturned on your lap and rub the balm into his skin using small circular motions, the way Ten taught you awhile ago.

He hisses in pain, and it's quite obvious that the blisters are infected.

"Should I drain them before I bandage them?" you ask, mostly to yourself.

Mark whimpers, and then he huffs like he's heard Lucas' son do many times before. "It's probably better if you do."

"Just don't watch," you say hastily. "It'll hurt less."

Mark keeps his head hidden in your shoulder the entire time, refusing to look until both of his hands are drained and bandaged. He focuses on the way your skin smells like the sea salt, but in a sweet way. Like you've somehow only extracted the good parts of the ocean.

When you officially announce that your done, Mark looks up. His senses are overwhelmed by both the pain, and the smell of your skin, so when he finds himself nose to nose with you, it's hard not to lean in.

Just before his lips touch yours, he hears the door open.

It breaks his trance, and he blinks, backing up a short distance. He brings his hands back to his own lap.

A man — Ten, Mark supposes — walks in. "Oh, Your Highness. What's wrong?"

Mark almost laughs. Who would mistake someone for the princess? But then your face pales, and you look like you've just been punched in the gut.

"Your Highness?" He says quietly, hoping he somehow heard wrong. "You told me you were a noble."

"I am," you say, folding in on yourself timidly.

Ten sees that he's made a mistake, so he quickly grabs a bundle of rosemary and runs out of the door.

"Princess Y/n? That's your name?" Mark asks again, feeling his bones go cold. He can't like the princess. He can't have almost kissed the princess. He can't fall for the girl who's parents inadvertently got his family killed.

He stands up. "I have to go."

"Mark, wait—" you reach for the boy, but he backs away from your touch, reaching for the door. "I'm sorry."

He opens the door. "I have to go," he repeats, shaking his head and escaping the room.

Your coronation is in two days, and all you can think about is Mark and his family.

You can guess what happened, as it happened to a lot of families during that time. Of course, Mark is one of the only ones who kept the fishing trade after such a tragedy.

You want to go see him, but something holds you back. If he blames you and despises you, he wouldn't want to see you under any circumstances.

But you can't help but think about him and all of the others who lost family due to your parents' poor decisions. Sure, you could throw a ball for present-day fishermen, but that doesn't cover the families of the passed.

They could be struggling or alone, and you don't want any of them to feel lost. You want them to find closure apart from a lavish party.

So you set your coronation back, and you get together with a few architects in the kingdom.

And as soon as the plan is set in motion, you head down to the docks, hoping Mark will be the first to know about it. He may reject you, but you want him to know. He deserves to know, as the one who inspired the project.

You find Jaehyun first, untangling a net at the end of his boat, feet hanging over the side, against the hull. "Hey, Jaehyun. Is Mark here? I really need to talk to him."

Jaehyun looks remorseful. "He left a while ago. Took his shabby sailboat and left for who-knows-where. 'Said he might come back. 'Said maybe not."

"Oh," you say. Your mind feels burdened, but you accept it. You have to. "Okay. Well, if he comes back—"

"I'll send him your way," Jaehyun gives you a pity-filled smile, like he knows what you're both thinking.

Mark probably isn't going to come back.

You focus on the project.

One section of the kingdom courtyard is cleared, and now a tree stands, with a sign in front of it. The plaque reads off the names of all the deceased, and all the families affected. It reads off the history of the decision, and the conscious choice not to let history repeat itself.

You invite every family mentioned and offer them enough resources to keep them afloat for the remainder of their lives. You take the money out of the savings your father held aside for war and your mother held aside for your coronation, wedding, and honeymoon.

Surely, this is more important.

You can't think of why a coronation would have to be anything special enough to hold back resources that should have been gifted as soon as the war ended.

You know firsthand that the scars of grief won't heal completely, but this is certainly a start. This is a step in the direction of closure, and you do your best to prove to your people that you are genuine in this decision.

You sign a declaration stating that no one will be forced to fight again, and all procedures to prevent a war will be taken. War will be a last resort, lest anything happen to your people. God forbid.

That night you fall asleep feeling lighter than you have in years.

You still wish Mark had been there to see it. To see that he has never been alone.

You want to tell him that there's a room in the castle with his name on it, if he wants it. You want to tell him that he can stay here forever, and you'll do your best not to bother him.

Most of all, you just want to know that he's safe.

Mark finds himself on a small island, and decides to stay for a few days.

He'll come back, he knows that deep down. But it's only because he has something to come back to. Someone.

It's impossible to deny that he has some kind of feelings towards you. However weak they are, they're there. However platonic or romantic they may be, he wants to be around you. He doesn't want to go a long time without seeing you; talking with you.

The fact that you're the princess has him at a standstill. Because, yeah, your parents made a horrible decision. But he knows you were only a child when it was made. You were his age. And when the king and queen were overcome by their illness just a few years later, you were left alone to rule.

Mark is beginning to think you know just as much about feeling alone as he does.

He sleeps on the beach beside a campfire. His stomach is only half-full, but he doesn't feel like eating any more of his rations.

He looks across the vast horizon and imagines that you're in the castle, looking out. Maybe you can see the smoke, or maybe he's simply becoming a vapor in the wind.

Maybe you don't miss him, or care that he's gone. Maybe you're angry for the way he left.

Mark figures he should work on the whole impulse thing.

He'll come back one day, he knows. Just not yet.

You are crowned as queen a month later, when the sea is chilly and the air is biting. Your breath turns into frost as often as you breathe, waiting in anticipation for a boat that may never return home.

Days are filled with meetings and discussions over keeping the peace, and while you adore your country, you can't help but wish you were back on the docks that night, meeting Mark again for the first time.

You stay up late, nightmares eating at your mind. Your mother's ghost still lingers around, but she feels less comforting now, and you don't know why. Her presence makes the room cold and dark. Even her rosary doesn't feel as good as it once did.

Still you clutch it, and say a quick prayer to whoever will bring Mark home the fastest.

And when you look up, you can see a small sailboat, making its way towards the light of the lighthouse beam.

You hastily pull pants over your nightgown and throw a jacket over your shoulders before racing out of your bedroom, fingers still clutching your mother's beads.

You forgot to put on shoes. This would be fine, if the cliffs weren't so sharp. So, you slow your pace and pick a smoother path, not wishing to get any serious injuries.

The wood of the dock is cold. It's wet, too. The slimy kind of wet that makes you want to take a bath as soon as you feel it. But still you stand, eyes focused on that little sailboat, hoping it's Mark on his way home.

Your knees are aching, and you're shivering by the time the boat finally docks. But it's all worth it when Mark walks out, his clothes dirty and messed up.

He starts when he notices you, but once he realizes you are not, in fact, a ghost, he quickens his pace until he is right in front of you. "You're not mad at me."

"No," you say. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," Mark breathes. A laugh of relief leaves his lips and he reaches forward to wrap you into a hug. "I'm sorry I did that. I acted impulsively and I shouldn't have."

"No, you shouldn't have," you scold, squeezing him as tightly as you can. "I was afraid for your safety every night."

Mark awkwardly pats your back until you let him go, and then he gives you a crooked smile. "I'm extremely tired. Do you think we could meet up in the morning?"

"You don't sleep in that shack during the winter, do you?"

Mark seems confused. "Yeah, why?"

"You'll get sick," you protest. "Won't you just come to the castle with me? I know you don't like it, but there's a room with your name on it if you want it."

Mark covers his mouth as he yawns. "You know what? I might take you up on your offer. Just for tonight, though."

He seems set on his decision, and you're just thankful that he's alive, so you grab his hand and pull him up the cliffs, excited to have him with you once again.

Mark submerges his head completely under the water. You had a bath drawn for him, and you even filled it with lavender and lemon oils. Though the scents make Mark even drowsier than before, he's thankful that you remembered the scents.

They make him think of that night when he first met you, and that makes his heart warm.

He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the fluffy pillows. After being so used to sleeping on the ground, this feels like a cloud.

He gets the best sleep he's had in ages.

You wake up in a cold sweat, visions of Mark caught in a shipwreck wracking your body in waves. Shivers race down your spine, so you sit up and look around, counting the things in your room the way Ten told you to do when you feel on the verge of a panic.

Once the room stops spinning, you get up and begin to dress, excited to show Mark around your home. You want to show him the garden, and the memorial.

You put on a yellow sundress and race out of the door. You knock incessantly on Mark's door until he finally opens it.

The sight that greets you makes your heart flutter worse than the dream. But it's in a different way. It's a positive and lovely flutter that zips all the way down to your toes.

Mark is still in his nightclothes. One hand still on the door, the other goes up to rub his eyes. His hair is messy, shooting up in all different directions. His skin has gotten a lot darker since his voyage, and the stark contrast to his white shirt warms the pit of your stomach. "Morning," he mumbles.

You suddenly want to reach over and kiss him, just to capture that innocent look on his face. However, you mask that feeling with a smile. "Do you want to have breakfast? Or, if you're still tired, maybe we could just hang out here."

Mark looks longingly back at his bed. Then, to the still-dark sky outside the window. "Uh, what time is it?"

"Four in the morning," you say, heart skipping a beat.

"Four?" Mark gapes at you. "Shouldn't you be asleep still? Why are you dressed?"

You pout. "I had a nightmare and don't want to go back to sleep."

Mark rolls his eyes and reaches for your hand. He pulls you into his room. "Get dressed into something comfier and let's go back to sleep."

You find a long nightshirt in his wardrobe, but you don't like the second part of his plan. From behind the dressing screen, you slip the silky fabric over your body. "I don't want to sleep. I'll have bad dreams again."

"What are they about?" Mark questions. He's lying on his bed, arms stretched out behind his head. The shirt he's wearing rides up at the hips the more he stretches, and you nearly get caught staring at the sliver of skin that shows.

"Um. People I care about in dangerous situations," you say, not wanting to reveal that most of them are about him. It's just that your brain can't seem to catch up to the present. Maybe it hasn't caught on that Mark is here, safe, and not lost out at sea.

"But you have to sleep," Mark says. "We didn't get in until, like, midnight. You need more than that."

"I'll just lay beside you," you say, hoping it appeases him. "And we can get breakfast when you wake up."

Mark looks annoyed, but he doesn't say anything else. He shifts into his side, facing you, and closes his eyes.

You mirror his actions, burying yourself under his covers that already seem to smell like him. Like the sea and lavender and lemons. You take a deep breath and watch him fall asleep. You take note of the way his eyelids begin to flutter, and the noiseless mumbles coming from his lips. He's beautiful (and he falls asleep really fast, you notice.)

You reach out and clasp his shirt, fisting the loose fabric. Anchoring yourself to him makes this feel more real, and you hope your brain is finally catching up to the rest of you.

Sometime within the next thirty minutes, you fall asleep. And there are no nightmares. In fact, there are no dreams at all.

Mark wakes up with his arms around somebody's waist, and for the life of him he can't figure out if he went to bed with anybody last night.

What was last night? His mind floods back to him sailing back to the mainland and finding you waiting for him.

It's you. He groggily opens his eyes and sees you, curled against his chest, fingers clutched around the front of his shirt. And his arm is only holding you there, keeping you in his embrace until he wants to let go.

Mark loosens up his arm and settles for lying next to you, listening to the sound of your breathing. Soft snores emit every now and again, and a piece of his heart pinches with endearment.

He's thankful you waited. He can't imagine how upsetting it would have been to come back and not have you greet him. He takes it a step further and wonders how he would have felt if you were betrothed; promised to another. Not that you were ever promised to him, but still.

There's always a future possibility, he likes to imagine.

Though, to be honest, he has no idea what it means for you to be a queen. He wonders if there are rules against favoring a fisherman. Maybe you'll wake up and tell him that the two of you have to stay six inches apart now that you're queen. He has no idea.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" you snap him out of his thoughts.

Mark watches as a sleepy smile paints your lips. "Just... is this scandalous?"

You cover your mouth with your hand and giggle. Your eyes seem to twinkle at him, and it makes Mark glad that he coaxed you into going back to sleep for a few hours. "Don't you know we're a matriarchy?"

Mark gapes. "The line goes through the women?"

"Essentially, yeah," you say. "I can be around men as much as I please, so long as I one day have a female heir. Though that will not be any time soon, I'm very sure."

Mark remembers Lucas and his son, and he wonders what it'd be like to have a little one of his own. It's a comforting thought, like he might one day be able to find a family again. "Oh. Cool."

"Yeah," you say. "I mean, not that I normally find myself in the bed of different men, just... you know."

Mark clears his throat. "Yeah. Er, yeah."

"I didn't have any nightmares," you say. "So maybe it was good that I went back to sleep."

"You do need your sleep," Mark says. "It's important."

You change the subject. "What should we do after breakfast?"

"Well, I really have to go see Jaehyun and ask for my position on his boat again." Mark feels sheepish for cutting his time with you short, but he needs to make an income. "I can visit you soon, though."

"Maybe we could sail together one day," you say. Mark can tell you're masking your disappointment, and it makes his heart clench.

"Definitely," he says, if not just to watch your eyes light up.

Jaehyun kept Mark's spot open while he was gone, hoping he would return. "Why do you look so nice?"

"Oh," Mark runs his hands through his hair and avoids Jaehyun's gaze. "I spent the night at the castle."

Jaehyun snickers knowingly, and when Mark tries to deny whatever it is he's thinking of, he only gets louder. "I can't believe you spent the night with the queen and you want to be humble about it."

"It wasn't like that," Mark says, defending you. "Don't be weird about it. We're friends."

"Fine," Jaehyun rolls his eyes. "If you don't want to be the future king, fine."

"Actually, it's a matriarchy, so I wouldn't even be king. I'd be like, the consort or something." Mark grunts as he lifts a fishing net onto his back. "Which is kind of cool when you think about it."

"You don't want power?"

Mark scoffs, looking back at his friend. "Imagine me running a country. I can't count a million ways that would go wrong. Y/n is better suited, obviously."

"Yeah," Jaehyun matches Mark's stride. "I was kind of on the fence about her reigning instead of a regent, but then she set up the monument and signed that treaty. I think that's the most badass thing I've ever seen anybody do."

"What monument?" Mark shifts the weight of the net and dumps it on the deck of Jaehyun's ship. They begin to untangle it and spread it out to get ready for tomorrow's voyage.

"Are you kidding me? The one inspired by you? I thought Y/n would've told you as soon as she saw you."

"I kind of left as soon as I woke up. And last night we were both so tired..." Mark fiddles with his sleeves. "What is the monument about?"

"It's a memorial," Jaehyun's voice carries a more somber tone. He lost his father in that war, too. "It's literally engraved in stone, the mistakes her parents made, and the promise not to repeat it. And it has the names of the deceased and the affected. It's basically a shrine; people leave things for their loved ones who have passed. It's a great sentiment. Oh, and the treaty. She signed a treaty with the people that she'd never force anyone to fight in a war. She's essentially risking the entire country for the lower class. It's amazing."

Mark's heart softens towards you. "She did all that?"

"Held back her coronation to finish it," Jaehyun confirms. "Then, each family of the deceased got compensated. You know, like her parents promised they would do, and then never did?"

Mark does remember, but he also remembers that being the year both monarchs died. They never had the chance to fulfill their promise. "Wait, so we both got compensation?"

"Yeah," Jaehyun said, dimples showing. "The bookkeeper has yours. I put most of mine into savings, since I don't mind the business I have right now. But I figured you'd want a new boat to take out and live on."

Mark eyes the water, and remembers how lonely he felt being the only one for miles. No one had been there for him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to agree to that again. "I'll put mine into savings, too. For now."

"You could take Y/n on a trip," Jaehyun suggests.

Mark shakes his head. "She wants me to take her sailing, but how do you charm a girl who has everything?"

"Give her the one thing she's never had," Jaehyun says, as if the answer is obvious. "Freedom."

Mark doesn't ask you to, but you bring a picnic basket with you the day the two of you go sailing.

You figure Mark probably only knows how to prepare a small number of things, and it might be nice to bring him something of a royal caliber to snack on. Besides, you have to bring something to thank him for taking you out with him.

Mark's boat is extremely small: just big enough for a crew of maybe six people, but small enough to be controlled by one man alone.

You watch Mark hoist the sails and set the boat towards the horizon, the wind doing most of the work.

The wind plays with Mark's hair, as well as his shirt, and you aren't sure which is nicer to look at. He's smiling towards the sun, the sharp rays casting somewhat of a halo around his face and you realize this is exactly where Mark belongs. He belongs with the wind and the sea.

Mark belongs where he can be free.

He anchors the boat once the two of you sail out far enough. You lay the picnic blanket out and extract the miscellaneous food items you thought Mark might like.

He tastes the watermelon first, and nurses the fruit throughout the meal. "So, uh, Jaehyun told me about the memorial. And the compensation."

"Oh," you say. "Well, I thought they deserved to be remembered."

Mark nods. "Thanks. It meant a lot to visit it and find my family's names. I felt a lot of closure. As if they were finally at rest."

"Good," you take a sip of water. "That's good."

"You know," Mark pauses like he's about to say something troublesome, "your parents deserved to be remembered, too. They deserve to rest."

You glance up, and your head all of a sudden feels heavy on your neck. It's as if Mark said the words you so desperately needed to hear, whether you knew it or not. Heat pricks the backs of your eyes and you feel both a headache and tears coming up. "Thanks, Mark. I think so too."

"I thought we could do a small memorial service here. Just a little one. We can burn a candle and forgive your parents together. Then they can rest."

"Yeah," you sniffle, feeling an unbearable amount of gratitude in your heart for the boy sitting across from you. "Okay."

"We should go swimming," you say, just as Mark blows out the candle.

"It's freezing out here," he says, looking at you like you're crazy.

"I'm going in," you say, backing up towards the edge of the boat.

Mark watches you jump off of his boat, then he hears a splash, and then a joyful shriek. He sighs and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. He toes off his shoes and socks and stands at the edge of the boat. "How cold is it?" He calls down to you.

"It's super chilly," you yell back, teeth chattering as you smile in satisfaction. "But it feels good."

Mark takes your word for it and dives in head first. His bones chill immeasurably and he feels every muscle in his body wake up for what seems like the first time today. When he reaches the surface, the wind bites at his ears, and he begins chattering, too. "This is a terrible idea," he laughs.

"I know," you say gleefully. You swim over to him, and Mark catches that familiar glint in your eyes. It looks like you're truly happy, and he thinks in this moment that he'd freeze himself a thousand times over again if it kept that stupid smile on your face. "Also, how do we get back onto the boat?"

"There's a ladder on the other side," Mark says. "We're good."

"Okay," you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, and hook your ankles together at the front of his navel. "Carry me there?"

Mark dips at the sudden new weight, but it isn't unwelcome. He swims to the other side of the boat, a bit lazy because he really likes the way you're clinging onto him.

He lets you go up the ladder first, and he keeps his eyes on the ocean so he won't accidentally look up your skirt. As soon as you yell that you're clear, he begins to climb as well.

When the two of you return to the castle, you're placed in front of the fireplace in Mark's room by a very angry Ten. The two of you take whatever soup he made to warm your insides, and snicker at the obvious annoyance in the man's face.

"To be fair, it's only because he doesn't want us getting hurt," Mark supplies. He wraps the wool blanket tighter around his now-dry shoulders. The two of you are wearing new sets of clothes, having washed up in lukewarm water like Ten advised you to.

"I know," you giggle, scooting closer to him. "He's just so funny when he starts complaining." You shiver as you speak.

"C'mere," Mark mumbles. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to him, against the warmth of his body. "This is why I said we shouldn't go swimming."

"I'm fine," you say, shivering in his hold. "I'm getting warmer."

Mark runs his hand up and down your arms to try and create some kind of extra heat. Once you finally stop shivering, he checks on you, only to find that you've fallen asleep against his chest.

His heartbeat quickens — for absolutely no reason — as he gathers you in his arms and places you on the side of the bed closest to the fireplace.

You let out a sigh of contentment and curl into the sheets. When Mark tucks you in, he swears he hears you mumble a quiet thanks.

He wonders if he should sleep in here or try to find another room to sleep in. Obviously he's slept beside you before, but he wonders if it's weird now because of how much he likes you. He wouldn't want you to think he's taking advantage.

But then Ten comes in and quite literally shoves him into the bed. "The two of you are getting a lot of sleep, because tomorrow I will have you both up drinking a very disgusting brew that prevents serious sickness. It'll be ready in the morning. So, get to sleep."

Mark obeys, too afraid to explain his predicament to Ten. It's a bit stupid anyway, he figures.

So he climbs into bed and falls asleep under the warm covers.

Mark is untangling nets on the beach, toes buried in the sand. The wind has been picking up, causing his hair to annoyingly waft into his eyes every now and again.

He can hear the shrieks of laughter from Lucas' son as the boy runs up and down the dock. A moment passes where he pictures having a son of his own to teach at the docks. But maybe that isn't the life for him.

He's been spending his nights at the castle, staying up to talk to you. The majority of the time, you both fall asleep together, either intertwined or just in each other's presence.

Mark doesn't want to admit that he's falling for you, because that would mean he's falling for the queen. And while that doesn't sound too bad, Mark wonders how much of his freedom he'll have to give up. He wonders if he'd have to pay a price to be officially wed to you, when he likes the way things are now. He likes just being around you, as a friend, safe at a distance.

But he can't deny that there are times when he would love to kiss you and touch you in ways friends are not supposed to. He tries to keep these thoughts buried with the rest of them. In the things-that-will-never-happen pile.

He wonders if you like him too, and just as much. You certainly seem to enjoy every moment you're with him, but you're also just a generally joyful person, so Mark isn't sure he could differentiate the two if he tried.

He focuses on the net, hoping to keep you out of his mind for at least a day.

The universe has other plans.

"Hey," you sit beside him. You wiggle your toes into the sand and grin at him. "Whatcha doing?"

"Working," Mark says, bumping his shoulder with yours. "I'm untangling nets."

Your face suddenly softens. "Are you going to get hurt again? Maybe you should wear gloves."

"I'm used to it," Mark says, shrugging off your worry. When he can sense that you aren't appeased, he swings his head to the side and gives you a long glance. "I'm serious."

You huff. "Just because you're used to it doesn't mean it has to keep happening."

In the end, you win. Mark begrudgingly puts on the pair of work gloves that you steal from Jaehyun. He has to admit that it feels a lot better, and he untangles the net a lot faster when he isn't trying to avoid getting any cuts. "Thanks, Y/n."

You grin. You follow him as he drags the net up to Jaehyun's boat and help him lay it out. Mark notices the bottom of your dress is soggy with whatever grossness dresses the dock. He also notices that you don't seem to mind, and you do your best to keep up with him as he works.

Eventually, the two of you get into a small rhythm of Mark briefly teaching you, and you picking up the trade rather easily. You help him pack bait, secure knots, and clean the deck of Jaehyun's ship.

By nightfall, the two of you are covered in a thin layer of sweat. Mark is suddenly extremely thankful that you've given him a room in the castle, and he can take a proper bath tonight.

Jaehyun and his brothers are going on a trip for a few weeks, so he won't have much to do on the docks as far as working goes. He wonders if he'll stay at the castle, or feel more comfortable by the sea.

Mark tucks the light brown cotton vest into his pants. It covers the white dress shirt he took out of the wardrobe, and matches the dark brown belt fastened around his waist. He slips his sock-clad feet into his worn leather boots. He sits on his bed and fastens the straps of the boots.

It's raining, hard. There's no way anyone is going down to the docks today, and since Jaehyun isn't going to be there anyway, Mark refuses to brave the harsh rain. Instead, he makes his way to your bedroom door and knocks.

You call for him to enter. He walks in to see you hunched over your writing desk, reading some kind of letter. Your eyebrows are knitted together and your lips are pursed. An upset sigh escapes them. "It's from my aunt."

"What does she want?" Mark takes slow, hesitant steps towards the desk. "Is it bad?"

You rub your temples, looking more stressed than Mark has ever seen. "She wants me to have an heir. A daughter. Which is fine, but I don't need one now. I'm young and I'm unmarried. But she's talking about sending a few suitors over."

Mark's blood runs cold. "Oh? Um, did you agree to it?"

"It wasn't a choice," you say, slamming the parchment down onto the desk. You reach up and grab fistfuls of your hair, resting your elbows on the wooden surface. "I just... I made so much progress, you know? And she assumes it's not enough. She assumes I'm nothing without an heir."

"What happens if you don't get married and have a daughter?" Mark asks, wincing more with every word.

You sigh. Your smile is extremely forced as you look at him. "Well, then she would have to take the throne, as apparently I wouldn't be fit enough to rule."

Mark can see the beginnings of tears in your eyes. "She can't do that, right? She can't keep you off the throne?"

"Technically, since she's the only female on my mom's side with a daughter of her own, she can." You begin to crumple up the letter. "She wouldn't be able to rule this country like I can. She won't have empathy for my people. She won't be gentle or kind. She won't throw parties for the lower class... Mark, what am I going to do?"

Mark wants to remind you that he is only a fisherman who has no idea how royalty works. However, all he can do is look into your eyes and realize that you're all alone. You're all alone and you're looking to him for help; for an anchor; for something to cling to so that you won't drown.

"Mark, please..." and immediately, he pulls you into his embrace. He tucks your head under his chin and holds you close, doing his best to still the violent shivers that run through your body. "I don't want to marry someone I don't love. I don't want to be forced into a union."

"Shh..." Mark runs his palms up and down your back. "We'll figure it out, right? You'll prove that you can rule without an heir, right?"

"I don't know," you sob into Mark's chest. "But I have to do it because she can't be on the throne. I won't do that to you. I can't. Not to my people—"

"Okay, okay, okay," Mark shushes you. "Alright. You do what you have to do. But tonight, let's just rest. Let's just pretend nothing is happening. Can we do that for tonight?"

You look at Mark and nod. You use the ends of your sleeve to wipe at your nose, leaving the skin red and raw. "Can you stay with me?"

Mark sits on your bed, and you crawl into his lap. He feels your forehead press against the side of his neck. Your hands clutch at his now-untucked shirt. You're still crying — he can feel a few stray tears slip beneath his collar — but you're quieter now. Your heart isn't racing as fast.

"Mark," you whisper, almost sleepily. "I love you."

Mark's breath hitches in his throat at your words. He finds that now he's the one with tears, pricking the back of his head like the painful reminder that this is all he'll ever be able to be to you. "I love you, too."

The rain continues to pour outside. Mark runs his fingers through your hair, and tells you quiet tales of the sea until you fall asleep, looking far too small and vulnerable in his arms.

He wonders just how much a queen has to sacrifice. He wonders if he would ever be able to steal the weight off of your shoulders.

For a quick moment, Mark closes his eyes and imagines a world where it's just the two of you, and you mean it when you say you love him. It's not just fever-fueled words.

He kisses the top of you head. "So much."

The coffee is bitter on your tongue, but it's a lot sweeter than your aunt's arrival.

She comes in a carriage far too large for a single person. Her dress is too thick for Ora's climate, and yet she walks with her head held high, as if she can't feel the drops of sweat along her hairline.

Her hair is hidden beneath a large bonnet made of wire and something else. The atrociousness of it all just makes you want to laugh. Though the reality of the situation isn't funny in the least.

Mark is at the docks today, but you take comfort in knowing that he's on your side. Part of you wishes he would confess to you, and the two of you could get married. Wouldn't that be everything you've ever wanted?

Mark is, however, your dearest friend, and you doubt his affections towards you are romantic. He's never really been that affectionate anyway, save when the two of you are sleeping.

Sometimes you wonder how it would feel if he just decided to kiss you one day. If he decided that he loved you, truly. That he is in love with you, and the two of you can carry on in life together.

That's another thing you despise about this decision. What will happen to you and Mark if you wed another? Surely you'll have to stop sleeping in each other's beds. You'll have to spend more time with your husband. The thought breaks your heart.

What a tender and vulnerable love you have for the fisherman at the docks. It's something no one could replace.

And that's when you decide to lie to your aunt. You can't stand a life without Mark. Not now. So you pretend you don't have to. "Actually, I'm betrothed to someone. His name is Mark."

Your aunt purses her lips. Her entire face is puckered like she just ate something sour, and yet she somehow still looks beautiful. It irks you. "Is he of noble birth?"

"No," you say, straightening your shoulders. "but that isn't important, is it?"

Your aunt meets your daring gaze. She sighs. "No, I suppose it doesn't. Will you have an heir, though?"

"I do hope you aren't suggesting infidelity before marriage," you quip.

Your aunt balks. "Now you're just putting words into my mouth, Y/n—"

"Your Majesty," you correct, clasping your hands together. "and I do believe I am asking the appropriate questions. You wanted me to get betrothed, and I am."

There's a fire in your aunt's eyes. She blinks, settles for a calculated grin, and leans on her palm. "Of course. I only think it's peculiar that your people do not know of the engagement yet. Are the two of you waiting to announce it?"

"Well..." You clench your fists beneath the table, "I have been waiting for the right time..."

"I will host a ball." If you didn't know any better, you'd say your aunt is calling your bluff. And if you say no, she's got you right where she wants you.

You aren't letting her have any say in ruling your people. "Wonderful! I'll tell Mark right away!"

The look on your aunt's face is almost enough to make up for the bile that creeps up your throat.

When Mark comes into his room that night, hair still wet from his bath, you're pacing back and forth in front of his bed.

You're already in your nightgown, and your hair is braided with that familiar seashell pendant tied to the bottom. "I did something bad."

Mark watches the way you take your ring on and off of your finger. "I'm sure it's not that bad, right?"

You stop and face him. "We're getting married, Mark."

The air knocks out of his lungs, and he feels as if someone just punched him in the gut. He clears his throat; blinks. "Pardon?"

You laugh incredulously. "I just– she was getting under my skin, and I thought about how if I get married, we won't be the same, and I couldn't let that be a reality, so I just blurted it out thinking she'd drop it but now she wants to throw a ball and announce it to the people and I can't say no because she'll call my bluff—" you pause to take a deep breath. "Mark, I'm so sorry."

Mark thinks the worst part of this entire ordeal must be you thinking he wouldn't want to marry you. He wants to know when his life got so confusing. He manages a smile. "I guess I should learn how to dance, then, huh?"

"Yeah," you manage a giggle, the worry lines evening out in your forehead. "Yeah, but I can teach you."

"Good," Mark says, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. He wonders if you'd be opposed to this being a real thing. He's too much of a coward to ask. "Good."

You've figured out why Mark tied the knots so many times that he received blisters, and why he's always the last one to leave the docks. He's a perfectionist, and he needs everything he does to be done without a single flaw.

This is what it feels like teaching him how to dance. The two of you repeat the same routine over and over again, sometimes seriously, and other times with laughter stopping you in the middle. But each time, Mark insists that he made a mistake. No matter how many times you assure him that he's perfect, he asks to try again.

In the end, it's nearly midnight when he feels somewhat satisfied. The two of you are just swaying back and forth, letting the rest of the record play on. "Are you always so diligent in your tasks?" you ask.

Mark laughs nervously, his shoulders tensing as he shrugs. "I don't like making mistakes."

"You make a lot of them to get where you are, though," you remind him. "You're determined, I'll give you that."

"You have to remember that I'm going to be dancing with the queen in front of everyone," Mark says, eyes searching yours. "They're going to be waiting for me to make a mistake."

"Maybe my aunt," you stick your tongue out in disgust, "but her opinion doesn't matter. As long as we get her out of here, everything can go back to normal."

Mark focuses on your intertwined fingers. He looks solemn, his doe eyes peering. "What exactly is normal? I mean, after we announce a marriage, we can't just take it back. The people will think you're impulsive. It'll ruin your reputation."

Part of you wishes you were back on the docks, the night of that party, meeting Mark for the first time. You still feel the same way; enamored with the innocence of him. An innocence you're ruining with your royal blood. "I don't know, Mark. But I got us in this mess, so I'll deal with the consequences. If you need to break it, I'll help you leave."

Mark dips down and presses his forehead against yours. "Would it be so crazy if we got married for real? Would it be much different than what we're doing now?"

You feel heat rush to your face. Your heartbeat thrums in your ears like the sound of a bongo drum. "I suppose married people do a bit more," you manage to joke.

Mark laughs; shakes his head, and with his face this close, his eyes look like little galaxies. "I mean it. I'm all in if you are."

You nod, liking the way your nose brushes against his. "I want to marry you, Mark."

The night comes and goes; a huge celebration not unlike the one you threw so many months ago.

When it's over, you feel relieved and happy. Your aunt is leaving in the morning, and you're going to marry your best friend. It's sort of a blessing in disguise.

You take off your sandals and get dressed in your pajamas. You step out onto your balcony and feel the wind hit your skin. You sigh. Nothing feels easy anymore, and every decision seems out of your hands. It's enough to make anyone mad, but you hope to hold on to the blessings you've been given.

Specifically, Mark.

You head into his room, hoping to sneak under his covers as usual. Instead of a ready-for-bed Mark, you're greeted with a shirtless Mark.

Time seems frozen as you realize he's just unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it upwards, so that his pants and cummerbund are still intact. He unties the thick sash, and when it falls, you can see the lean outline of his abdomen.

You blink. "Um. Hi."

"Oh!" Mark covers his chest with his hands, which would be quite comical if it weren't for the already-thick tension in the air.

You grab a shirt off of his desk chair and walk over to him. "Here."

Mark's fingers brush against yours when he takes the shirt. Heat radiates off of his naked torso, and you wish he would just put on the stupid shirt already so you can stop thinking things you aren't supposed to think.

Maybe Mark knows what you're thinking. Maybe he's punishing you for getting him into this mess. Whatever the reason, his expression shifts. He takes on a devilish grin and hands the shirt back to you. "Actually, I'm going to keep it off. It's kind of hot in here, isn't it?"

Because he's half naked, you want to scream in frustration. Mark has always been extremely handsome, with his wavy black hair and brown doe eyes. And of course, you've always been curious about what he hides under his shirts, but right now you can't stop staring at him, and things aren't going as you planned at all.

"Should we–" you clear your throat. "Should we sleep?"

Mark hums. He leans his shoulder against the bedpost and looks you up and down, slowly enough for the tension to charge. "Alright," he says abruptly. "Goodnight."

You burrow under the covers and decide not to ever come out again.

The tension is extremely palpable. It feels like a coil, wrapped around the two of you. Neither of you know when, or even if, it's gonna snap.

Mark has tried to focus on his work at the docks, but then Jaehyun is congratulating him, and he's reminded of everything all over again. He wants to ask Jaehyun for help, but he knows he'll sound crazy if he asks how to win his betrothed's heart.

So he tries to do it himself. He attempts to read your expressions when he talks to you for any indication that you're falling in love with him.

Because tension or not, he can't do this if your feelings aren't real. He can't put his heart on the line like that.

Right now, you're safe. Even if the two of you get married, it's still a friend thing. No lines have been crossed, and Mark is afraid that's going to change soon.

But what if it's for all of the wrong reasons?

He ends up sitting on his windowsill, eyeing the lighthouse beam as it shines over the calm sea. He unhinges the latch and opens the window, allowing the ocean air to fill his senses. It's been so long since he sailed away on his boat. Everything has changed.

Mark lets his head fall back against the wall. He closes his eyes tightly and emits a frustrated sigh. Maybe he should just tell you. Maybe it's time to put everything on the line, and if you get weirded out, he can just leave on his sailboat again. Right?

He chuckles to himself. Truthfully, when it comes down to it, he wouldn't change a thing about his predicament. He's thankful for your friendship and love, and he's content enough. After all, your happiness comes first.

You storm in, startling him out of his thoughts. "Someone destroyed the memorial," you say, eyes red from apparent tears.

"What?" Mark manages to stand up. "Who would do that? Why?"

"Noble rebels who don't want me marrying a man of lower class," you hiss, rubbing at your nose. "As if any of that matters when I'm in love with you."

Mark's heart stutters in his chest. Did he hear you correctly? "We— Uh— What do we do?"

"Ugh, nothing," you groan. "Not tonight. Tomorrow I'll address everyone and we'll begin looking for suspects. I'm just... I don't want anyone against us."

"Your aunt is against us," Mark points out.

"Screw her," you mutter. "I wish people saw you the way I did. They wouldn't doubt my decision for a second."

Mark stills when you close the distance with him and rest your palms against his chest. "W-What are you doing?"

"I mentioned that I'm in love with you and you haven't said anything. Does that mean you want to forget it?" A pout forms on your lips, and it takes everything within Mark not to just kiss it off right then and there.

Instead, like an idiot, he stumbles over his words. "I... uh... well..."

"What?" Your eyes are wide and beautiful, but Mark can see the hesitancy in them.

He can see the vulnerability and nakedness. He can feel the coil in his stomach warm when he finally finds his voice. "I've been in love with you since the blisters."

"Ew," you giggle. But still, you drag Mark's face down to meet your own.

He feels your lips on his before he can actually register what's happening. Once his brain catches up, he furrows his brows, determined to give you the best kiss you've ever had.

He cups your jaw and tilts your head just slightly, allowing him better access to your mouth. He feels your fingers trail down his chest and rest atop his hips. The coil in his stomach burns hot, and when you gasp against his mouth, it snaps.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and drags it out, ears ringing at the way you whine his name and clutch his hips more tightly than before. He chuckles and goes back to slower, sensual kisses, focusing on the way you feel and taste and sound. When you smile against his lips, he thinks he's found true freedom.

#freedom au #<if i start a series idk #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #mark lee scenario #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenario #destwrites #i feel like this doesn’t make any sense BUT i’m getting back into writing scenarios i’ll be better soon!

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