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dreamkidddream · 4 years

Note

Hi I love love LOVE your blog would you maybe do all the obey me brothers x reader yandere wise?

Hi anon! Thank you for the love I really appreciate it!! I know I sound like a broken record, but I was so nervous to start this blog and I’m so happy that people are enjoying my writings. So this request was kinda vague (and it’s my first yandere request!), so I’m assuming you mean general headcannons being in a relationship with the brothers (separately) being yandere. If I’m wrong, just send in the request again with some more details and I’ll be happy to redo it. Reader is gender neutral and I hope you enjoy!

Sidenote: Beel’s and Belphie’s part is a little bit short. Sorry!

TW: Unhealthy relationships, toxic behavior, yandere behavior but not too graphic is mentioned

Spoilers for Lesson 9-11 (mentioned in Satan’s) and Lesson 16 (mentioned in Mammon’s, Beel’s and Belphie’s)

Yandere HC’s with The Bros

So let me begin by saying this: I think that all demons are very territorial and even more so possessive. The brothers no doubt all love you, but you couldn’t help but realize that their way of love was starting to get just a tad bit worrying. I mean, you knew that they were demons and that they wouldn’t dream of hurting you (again), but it was starting to feel...intense. After all, they were just starting to express openly how they feel. You tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, but it was scary. They were determined that you were going to know just how much they love you...

And you were going to accept it, whether you wanted to or not.

Lucifer

Very controlling

You thought he was strict before, please, you haven’t seen anything yet

It went from telling you when to eat to downright constantly being in his presence. You were pretty much living in his room at this point, with the exception of leaving for school where he was your only escort

He was the embodiment of Pride, he took in pride in everything that he does, which included you. He was the reflection of perfection, and he were going to make sure that you and your relationship with him would reflect that too

He couldn’t help it. He was the oldest and the brother in charge, and that control transferred into your relationship. There was no room for backtalk or disobedience with him, it was his word, and his word was final

But, it was coming from a good place (in his eyes). He only wanted the best for you, because you deserved the best. And you’re a human, one of the weakest beings to ever exist that demons wouldn’t hesitate to rip limb from limb for fun. And he already lost you once due to his negligence. If he was there, if he knew what you were up to, if he knew your every move, then it wouldn’t have taken place. If he takes control, you would be safe. Sure, you would complain about wanting your “freedom” back (relax MC, he didn’t lock you up yet), but this was the best course of action.

Being the Avatar of Pride and the oldest (and most powerful) of all the brothers, Lucifer was intimidating. He knew the power and the weight that his name holds in the Devildom, he wasn’t Diavolo’s right hand man for nothing. So with that being said, he didn’t have to worry about any lesser demon even thinking about trying to take you away.

He didn’t see anyone as competition. Psh, do you see who he is? If anything, he sees these “competitors” as nuisances. Annoyances that didn’t know how to go away when they noticed that they weren’t welcomed. They weren’t going to take you away, they won’t even get the chance to be physically close to you, but...

He didn’t have a problem in making an example out of one or two people, as a matter of fact he relished it in. Have them on display for the whole Devildom to see. After looking at their disfigured and nearly destroyed bodies, the message is made clear: to make sure that it’s known that you are off limits completely

He loves you MC, and you may not understand that when he hovers over you, demanding that you never leave his sight, when he makes it to where none of your friends talk to you anymore (when they see you both walking, they immediately turn the other way like they haven’t seen you at all), and even when your time with the other brothers is limited to the point where you see him and only him, but he truly does love you

Lucifer loves you. He let his walls down and even swallowed his pride when he admitted this to you, and he doesn’t want to regret it. Which is why he had to be the dominant force in this relationship. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he refused to. No one was going to take you away from him, lest they incur the wrath of the firstborn

Mammon

This demon was already clingy, so just amp it up to an 1000

Mammon already gets picked on by demons, witches, and even his own family. So when you started to defend and comfort him, he was smitten. You, a mere human, making the Great Mammon feel butterflies in his stomach? Had you told Mammon this 100s of years ago that he would fall in love with a human, he would have laughed in your face and blew you off. But here he was, head over heels in love with you

He was already following you, since he was deemed your protector, and he took that title very seriously.

“Oi MC, stay close with me, that creep’s walking too close.” “Human, ‘ya need to let me walk with you every class, what if some no-good demon’s plannin’ something and I’m not there?!” “MC, stay away from that scumbag, I don’t like him being near you...”

Your safety wasn’t a game, it wasn’t a risk he would be taking like he’s playing a game of poker. No. He loves you, and he hasn’t felt this kind of warmth since his days in the Celestial Realm. If it means that he would never leave your side (and trust me, he’s not complaining), then he was happy about it. Ecstatic even. You were a pure soul and you made him smile everyday, he wasn’t willing to lose you by a longshot

He escalated from being a puppy to a growling rabid demon, baring his fangs at anyone he deemed a threat (which was starting to be an alarming rate of people, even people that you both personally knew). Mammon would always have some sort of grip on you, ready to pull you away under the guise that he was defending you. It got to a point where it just seemed like he was always on edge, just picking fights for no reason, and it got to the point where you confronted him about it. These people were your friends! They weren’t random demons trying to eat you alive, they weren’t trying to torture you for entertainment, and you are your own person! You’re not just some possession, and you’re not a child! You can take care of yourself-

He didn’t like that at all

You didn’t understand it, you’re a weakling compared to everyone here, and you wouldn’t make it by yourself (was Belphie not enough proof of that statement?!). You needed Mammon, and he was going to be there protecting you, whether you wanted it or not. He failed once, and got a second chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. And if you didn’t want his protection, that’s okay. You’ll grow to live and love him soon enough

Many people forget that while Mammon does act childish and does rather stupid things at times, he is the second born. The second most powerful brother right after Lucifer himself. He won’t (or at least tries not to) do these acts in front of you, no. He knows how vulnerable you can be, you’re not used to seeing vicious acts like these in front of you, but he is. Your classmate that wanted to do a study date for a big test? He’s trying to curse you so he can hurt you Canceled last minute and unenrolled from the class next day. Beel’s teammate that asked you for your number? He obviously wants to get some inside info to harm you Bones broken beyond repair to the point where he couldn’t play Fangol anymore and left in despair (you were only trying to plan a surprise for Beel since he’s been working so hard). The demon that accidentally bumped into you on the street? He tried to attack you and Mammon stepped in before it got worse You personally saw what he was capable of before you begged him to stop.

All in all, he’s the Avatar of Greed, it’s in his nature to be selfish. Before, he hated himself for how low his sin would make him feel, but damn did it feel good to indulge in it with it came to you

Leviathan

Out of all the bros to go yandere, he would be one of the worst to encounter. Good luck MC, cause you’re gonna need it dealing with his yandere side

Being that his sin is jealousy, it’s just a disaster waiting to happen. Why were you ALWAYS talking to his brothers and not him?! It’s not fair, it’s not fair!-

On top of that, he can be very manipulative, and he knows it. Whenever he talks down on himself, saying that he can understand why you would want to talk to other people instead of him. After all, he’s just a icky otaku who’s a worthless excuse for the third strongest brother-

Whenever he has this spouts, he knows that you’ll drop everything and come reassure him. You can always reschedule, he needs you now

With Levi, he knows what he’s doing is wrong, but he can’t help it, and he doesn’t care to. It took him so long to find real affection, and even then he still had his suspicions. You don’t really care for him if you keep trying to leave him, you don’t! Clearly, your love was just an act. If you really did love him, then wouldn’t you spend all of your time with him and no one else?

He knew that you couldn’t physically be with him forever, you weren’t immortal after all. But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t spend your remaining time with him. You could switch to online classes like him, constant anime and TSL marathons, and you could even watch him stream live! That sounded like heaven (ironically) to him and it would make him beyond happy, so why aren’t you agreeing with him? You would do this if Mammon asked or even if your hex classmate begged you too, so why not do it for him?? Was he not enough for you?! He knew that someone would try to steal you, and there will be hell to pay

Another thing, Levi was smart. Granted, not as book smart as Satan, but he was smart and sly. Always being stuck in his room, it gave him the chance to be stealthy since no one ever expects him to leave (unless it was for a rare appearance at RAD for student council meetings or something he was actually excited for and wouldn’t shut up about it). This gives him time for what needs to be done: collecting some “personal souvenirs” for himself and getting rid of some scum

Levi is like Mammon, many people forget that not only is he the third strongest, but he is the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. They just don’t see him in this position of power because of his image as the shut-in otaku who fanboys over Ruri-Chan. But when he breaks out of that mentality, people should worry...

He doesn’t like to be super messy, his route is silent but quick. Doesn’t mean that it would be painless though, just quick and without much of a mess. Being an reptile/aquatic demon does have its perks, especially when it comes to using his venom

Levi, while he struggles with openly expressing his feelings, won’t have that much of an issue showing you how he feels. He may not be able to say it with words confidently, but he can definitely show you how he truly feels by never letting you go

Satan

Another one to where if he went yandere, he would be the worst to deal with

Satan, while he had a better handle on his emotions, still struggled from time to time. He is the Avatar of Wrath, and yes, you all didn’t feel like you had to walk on eggshells when conversing with him, it didn’t mean that you could just say or do anything

He still reacted in his angry ways, but it wasn’t nearly as ruthless as how it was before. For example, if you spilled something on him by accident, he’ll be just a little irritated, but after looking at your guilty expression, it would slowly drift away. He knows that you aren’t idiotic like some of his brothers , and it was you, he couldn’t stay mad at you no matter how much he tried. It would eat at him, anger turning into sadness, then clarity and understanding. And you were to thank for that

After the whole body swap fiasco, he gotten better with understanding emotions other than the usual fury that flowed through his body. And the ones that you would make him feel got him addicted, to say the least

Like Levi, he starts to understand that what he is doing can’t be right, but he doesn’t understand why. Satan, one of (if not) the smartest of the brothers, could not figure out what you were making him feel, until it finally hit him when you said the three words he desperately didn’t know that he needed to hear:

“Thank you so much, Satan! Seriously, I love you.”

This feeling became much clearer now. This...was how true love felt? Like the ones that he read so much about? This was like a dream come true then. He, a demon that born from literal wrath, was receiving genuine love. Someone loved him, and he refused to let that go.

He would occupy your time and space more, always offering to help you study for some tests or completing assignments, and even inviting you to come read with him. This was fine, it wasn’t an issue.

What was the issue was how territorial he was getting of you. Whenever someone else wanted to hang out or just be in your presence, Satan would lose his cool. It would start out slowly building with him making snarky comments out loud, saying that they were boring you and wasting your time when you could be with him. Then it would lead to him lingering around, sticking close to your side by either grasping your hand or, if he was feeling extra possessive, an arm wrapped tightly around your waist with him giving a threatening look at the offender. If none of these things were working however (Diavolo forbid if the person was ignoring him or even acting smug), he was ready to explode.

He didn’t want to scare you anymore than he already had. Satan knew that in the past that he used his reputation as the Avatar of Wrath to strike fear into people, including you when you first arrived here. But he was a new demon! He couldn’t make his anger or wrath go away, but he could control it and find new ways to release it instead of the usual rampages. And he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t just the rage-filled demon, but a man that was more than capable of loving you

But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, let this person get off scot-free. You noticed how tense he was getting, and before you could even blink he already had them dangling by their neck. You could make out some of the things he was saying, “How dare you think you can take MC away from me?! I won’t hesitate to end your pathetic existence if you so much as glance at them-”. He could feel you tugging at him, pleading at him to please calm down and that you could both just leave-

Well, why didn’t you say so earlier MC? All of this could have been avoided if you were just with him this entire time instead of this filth. As long as you kept giving him this euphoric feeling and have him feeling like he’s on Cloud 9, then everything will be fine. A non-rampaging Satan is a happy Satan, and a happy Satan is good for you and everyone around. Just stay in his presence, just give him love, and everything will be peaceful.

Satan is not a merciful demon, and when he acts on his wrath it gets very gruesome. If you want people to keep their body parts attached and not scattered across the Devildom (and not find their bloody heart at your door since they wanted you to have it so much), then don’t stray away from him. When Satan is with you, he feels content with everything, and he doesn’t want that to change. He wants you to be happy with him like he is with you, and he won’t let anyone get in the way of that

You were the beauty to his beast, and he was going to get his happy ever after, even if he had to tear through and rip apart every single person in the way, one by one

Asmodeus

Getting the Avatar of Lust to fall in love with you is a feat that was rarely (if not ever) obtained. It was both a blessing and a curse

A blessing to where you got the treasured fifth born to show you just how much he appreciates you for you, and only wanted your eyes set on him. A curse to where he only wanted your attention, and was furious if your eyes wandered off him for a millisecond.

You knew how Asmo was, he lived for the attention, the spotlight on him and only him, with people announcing their undying love and affection just for him. But there was a glaring problem with this

Asmo wanted you announcing your undying love and affection just for him. He loved his fans, but he didn’t love them like he loved you, and that was a problem for him. You made him fall in love with you, so it’s only fair that you deal with it, right? It’s only fair to love him as much as he did you right? Really, you were the one that was suppose to be madly in love with him, not the other way around

It doesn’t matter what you answered, loving him was the only choice that you had. Your head should be filled with thoughts of Asmo, your attention only set on him, your pretty lips only speaking praises and “I love you” just for him, you should dedicated to Asmo and only Asmo

What did you do to make him fall so hard for you? He’s no stranger to having flings and the feeling of love in general. In the past, he’s convinced himself that he was in love with certain people, but it would never last, the “love” that he felt fleeting. So for you to make him feel this emotion, to feel this true love for so long and it not leave him yet frightened him so much. He wanted you to need him, to feel like he’s your very reason to breath, to live.

And he hated it when other people took your attention away

Asmo definitely wasn’t the one to be messy (he still has to look his best and some pieces of trash was not about to change that), so he lets his charm do the job, literally. Who could deny his request when he tells them that they should just leave MC alone forever, and that maybe they should go pay Cerberus a visit if they’re so desperate for some attention.

All in all, Asmo is borderline delusional that loving him is by giving him your attention, always and forever. He loves you, and the bare minimum that you’ve been giving him (in his eyes) isn’t enough anymore. He deserves your love and affection at all times, even if it means that he would be the only person in your life, then that was even better. Your love was only fitted for perfection, and he was perfection, no one else

Beelzebub

Okay, so Beel is already the nicest brother out of the bunch, so I think he would be the least concerning yandere to worry about

He’s already soft when it comes to you and his family, and he’s protective of you

He’s very, very protective of you

Beel, although he’s among the youngest, is one of the strongest physically. He’s muscular and the tallest out of the family. He doesn’t even need to open his mouth to threaten anyone, he can just stand there and stare menacingly in the background, and whoever was there would run for the hills

He’s always around you, which isn’t a bad thing. All he does is eat (which he offered to share and even feed to you), make small talk, and walk with you to wherever you needed to go. Besides, to you Beel is a big cuddly teddy bear (just with really sharp teeth). He wouldn’t hurt anyone without reason. As long as no one was trying to take you away or hurt you, then everything was fine.

He is willing to share you, but only with Belphie. He’s used to sharing with his twin, and he loved the both of you too much to be completely selfish with you. Plus, he knew that Belphie loved you too. This was the perfect reality for him: having you, his twin, and food. It makes him and Belphie happy, and they’ll make you happy along with keeping you safe

Now, if someone did have the courage to try anything with you, Beel would have no problems eliminating the issue. He’s a nice guy, but he won’t tolerate anything if it deals with his family. He’ll be conscious enough to where he won’t handle it in front of you, if anything he won’t even leave a trace. He’s the Avatar of Gluttony after all, he always has an appetite.

Beel is a very understanding, but also very wary, guy. After the Fall and losing his baby sister Lilith and having Belphie taken too, he’s terrified that something can and is bound to happen to you again. He will be ready this time, he won’t take anything else as an answer. You’ll still have your freedom, and you can still hang around some of your friends (at least for now), but just know that Beel will always be around. He’ll be like your second shadow, and always on the go. He loves you, and he refuses to lose anyone else that he loves.

Belphegor

This man was already yandere, let’s be real

After the whole situation happened and he was given a second chance to build a real relationship with you, he wasn’t going to screw it up. Believe it or not, despite his laziness, he was going to try his hardest to create a genuine bond with you. Actions speak louder than words after all, and he wanted to show you how much he’s changed. He was indebted to you, you gave him the chance to be with Beel again, and to get out of that cursed attic (even though he did kill you afterwards and was playing you like a fool)

Very possessive and very selfish. If he had to share, it would only be with his twin obviously. No one else was going to have you, and he would make sure that was a fact. After all, all he needed was you and Beel, no one else

Also like Levi, very manipulative. He doesn’t want to be that way, but if it keeps you by his side and no one else’s then oh well, he’ll get over it. If it has to be done, it has to be done

You don’t need to go to that party with Asmo, it’s time for your nightly cuddle sessions. Don’t go with that idiot Mammon, he wants his cuddles now. Why are you going with Diavolo and Lucifer? Are you forgetting what they did to him, what his dear older brother did to him to save face? See what you did, you made him sad, maybe if you take a nap with him and forget about everyone else he’ll start to feel a little bit better...

He’s lazy, but don’t take his laziness for weakness. If someone is really starting to become a bother, he’ll happily eradicate the threat. He’ll leave the body behind too, he wouldn’t feel like cleaning up. Plus, he would be proud of his work. Many people think that just because his sin is Sloth is that he’s a puny demon, but they also forget that he’s one of the most powerful demons to even grace Hell. And like Satan, he’s not very merciful. He won’t be as savage and bloodthirsty like him, but he’ll make sure that the problem goes in an agonizing way.

MC, just know that Belphie loves you for you, and not because of the Lilith revelation. His words may not come across like he does, but what he doesn’t say with his words, he makes up for in action. I mean, you don’t have to worry about other demons being a pain because he’ll make sure that they’ll go away, and plus you can just stay in their room! Studies show that sleeping next to someone you love is super healthy and helps you sleep better in general, and who else is better for the job than him?

He’s going to prove to you that he really loves you, he’s not going to make any more mistakes, and he’s not going to have any more regrets when it comes to you, he’s going to make sure of that. No one is going to get in the way of the ideal dream: just you, him, and Beel. Not random demons, not the other exchange students, not even Diavolo. No one was getting in the way, no one.

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kim-seungmine · 4 years

Text

moonlit

title: moonlit

characters: fem!reader x lee minho (lee know) of stray kids feat. bang chan, kim seungmin, hwang hyunjin, kid!yang jeongin

genres: exes to lovers au, romance, angst, based on eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, chan’s one sided love if you squint real hard, bff!seungjin.

warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking and food, mentions of insecurity/emptiness, minho is lowkey a flirt (and smooth af), this one is WORDY, sometimes nonlinear (flashbacks marked in italics, phase 2 completely happens in the past), lots of inner conflicts, watch me repeat the same words again and again.

word count: 14k

synopsis: after a nasty breakup, you have lee minho clinically erased from your mind... only to be reminded that while memories can be erased and forgotten, feelings will always demand to be felt.

Phase 1: Awakening

You clamp your shaking legs together, desperately trying to look like you’ve got it all together. The carton box on your lap feels heavier with each passing second as you wait for your name to be called. When the receptionist finally tells you to enter the consulting room, your head is full of him. His laugh, his voice, his touches, his smile, his empty promises, his lies, his last words…

This is why you’re doing this. You want him gone.

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” The doctor, Seo Changbin, motions at you to sit at the back of the room. A nurse places a tripod in front of you, setting the camera so it will capture your whole body. “Your sessions will be recorded, and we will keep all the recordings as archive. These recordings are confidential unless they’re needed for national security purposes. And, of course, if you wish to get your memories back in the future.”

Dr. Seo smiles, the calming tone in his voice doesn’t match the weight of his words. “You… you can restore the memories back?”

“I can’t,” he answers. “Patients are usually able to remember some past memories when triggered. And at least you will be reminded of why you want to do the erasure procedure in the first place. There are a lot of patients who regret doing this, and the last thing we want is to get sued because people make the wrong choices for themselves. I’m sure you have already read that part on the consent form.”

Great, you’re going to stop him from messing with your head by letting strangers literally damaging your brain.

“I won’t sue you. Let’s get this over with.”

“Sure.” Dr. Seo points at the camera. “Now, tell us everything, starting with who you want to erase.”

You grip your box tighter, as if to check if all the things inside still cause you pain no matter how many times you’ve seen them. You could have done this the normal way—crying, cutting your hair, even turning to God for help.

The thing is, one of these days the pain is going to swallow you up, and then you’ll be left with nothing. Nothing but an empty shell.

You should have been able to do this the normal way, but you’re too weak. Can’t you be weak for once? You can, right?

Clearing your throat, you stare at the lens. “Lee Minho.”

“Lee Minho,” you repeat. Louder. Clearer. “I’d like to erase Lee Minho.”

Chan finishes his beer in one gulp while you’re still struggling to open yours. It’s a shame, really—you drink almost every week, he drinks twice a year. He tosses the now empty can to the trashcan before opening another with ease, handing it to you. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you take a sip and watch him tear a pack of dried squids open.

“You’ll never go to those parties again,” he says. “I didn’t know my parents invited you because of that.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. They meant well.”

He pulls his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe they said that in front of everyone! You must’ve been so shocked. I’m sorry.”

You grimace, the unwanted attention was indeed quite embarrassing. Enough to make you politely reject the next time Chan’s parents invite you to another gala. Mr. and Mrs. Bang have always been supportive of their eldest son, letting Chan started his own business instead of taking over the family business. Chan’s mother had called you a few days prior, asking you to accompany her son since it would be a good opportunity to “build connection and expand your business.”

You and Chan did exactly that, so it wasn’t like they were lying. But Chan’s parents also used the opportunity to try to convince the two of you that you’re match made in heaven.

“Can we drop this?” You glance at your watch, stretching your limbs before rising from your seat. The traffic light turns red and you signal at your best friend to walk faster. “I keep getting flashbacks of CEO Kang’s son laughing at us.

Chan follows suit, placing his hand at the small of your back before crossing the street. You let out a relieved sigh when you reach the warm subway station. “Kang Younghyun has more embarrassing incidents than ours combined,” he scoffs. “This is nothing compared high school. No worries.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asks as you train is arriving. “I should’ve brought the car instead of letting my parents drive us to the party.”

You click your tongue at him. “Then you’ll miss the last train.”

“I can take a cab home. You always fall sleep on the train it’s giving me headache!”

“Bang Chan.”

The train stops and opens its doors. “Fine,” he mumbles. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“No promises!” you tease, stepping into the train a second before it closes. You wave at Chan until he disappears into a small dot before choosing the seat beside the door. The train is almost empty; standing near the door is a high school student listening to an online lecture and sitting across you is…. the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. He meets your eyes for a second before shifting his attention back to his phone again, leaving you slightly disappointed.

You despise socializing at parties but you want the Hottest Man Alive to talk to you? Y/N you’re so pathetic.

The sight of a bundle of name cards inside your purse is what gives you a reality check, various names and faces are popping up in your mind. Only now you feel how exhausted you are, parties and talking to a bunch of strangers have never been your thing. You take your platform heels off just as the train makes its stop, one of them almost hitting Hottest Man Alive as a result.

Apparently God has decided to make you the embarrassment icon of the day.

“I’m so sorry!” you panic, about to reach your flying heel when he stands up and picks it up. He silently places it in front of you before pulling out a card out of his pocket.

“It’s okay, just check out our café when you have time.” Hottest Man Alive slips the card into your palm, rendering you speechless with his bashful smile.

Oh, you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

You run your eyes over the black embossed letters once more, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat as you mentally convince yourself that he does want you to pay his café a visit. Your whole life has always been normal, so alarmingly calm and peaceful it makes you question your whole existence. Sometimes it feels like you’re living in someone else’s dream, foreign and temporary. Uncertain and insecure.

Last night was… weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt that attracted to someone before, not even your ex-boyfriends. In that moment, you felt unstoppable, carefree, happy… everything that wasn’t you.

Sadly, that moment didn’t last long and now you’re back to your overthinking self. What if he was just playing with you? Will he find you desperate or, God forbid, easy if you actually show up at his café? But what café owners don’t want a new customer? Besides, you’re bringing Chan, so Hottest Man Alive (or Lee Minho, according to his name card) is getting two new customers. If anything, he will be thanking you and hoping you will come again, just like any normal business owner.

“Hey,” Chan calls out to you, knocking on the car window. “We’re here, daydreamer.”

You shove the card back into your wallet, met with Chan’s confused eyes when you finally open the door. “You okay?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You look so out of it.”

Chan knows nothing about your encounter with Hottest Man Alive; he would’ve freaked out if he knew you wanted to visit a café because a random (handsome) stranger told you so. “Just thirsty. It’s so hot,” you mumble.

Eat Here Café gives off the homey atmosphere that immediately calms your nerves. You quickly scan the whole building, looking for any sign of Hottest Man Alive. You feel lighter yet bummed that he’s not there, except for some photos of him with a group of children pinned on the wall.

You choose a table near the cashier. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

Chan shrugs. “Any kind of cake.”

The puppy-like part timer greets you with a smile when you reach the counter. “Good afternoon, what would you like to order?”

“Injeolmi bingsu and Coke, please. Oh, and a vanilla cake!”

He repeats your order politely and you decide that you like the boy, taking a glance at his nametag that says Kim Seungmin. You never really pay attention to part timers before, but this one is remarkably efficient, polite, and very very cute (in a “I’d like to adopt him!” way).

You drop some cash into the tipping jar, the twinkle in Seungmin’s eyes feels so rewarding that you’re ready to put it into your “little things that made my day” on your journal later. He hands you the buzzer with a bright smile. “Please wait for your order!”

“Your stingy ass never gives such a generous tip. Did he flirt with you or something?” Chan marvels—loud enough to get Seungmin’s attention—when you return to your table. There are times when you regret being Chan’s business partner, but you realize that you’ve invested so much of your time and energy into building the company. That, and Chan is actually a dependable friend when he’s not trying to ruin your image.

Chan gets your order after the buzzer vibrates, digging into his cake right away. “Whoa this is good!” he exclaims. “How did you find this place?”

“…Instagram.”

“Do you think they hired a branding consultant already?”

You shake your head. “They post pretty regularly but I don’t think so.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle. “Do you think we should ask to meet the owner or something?”

“Hey Seungmin, iced Americano please! And remind me to pay your bonus later.”

The faintly familiar voice stops you from answering, your eyes wildly searching for the source. And there he is… the one you’ve been dreading to meet and also the one you’ve been yearning to meet. Lee Minho saunters into the café with his charming bunny smile and soft eyes, earning everyone’s attention except for Seungmin who’s still taking orders.

Seungmin only replies with a short hum, not taking his eyes off the cash register. You glance at Minho, mentally surprised by the way he doesn’t seem to be bothered with how Seungmin treats him.

“Quit staring before you start embarrassing yourself,” Chan warns you in the most boring tone. “I think he’s the owner.”

You almost spit out your drink. “I’m not staring!”

Minho exchanges some words with Seungmin before focusing his attention to all the customers. Your bingsu is melting, but you still follow his every move through your peripheral vision, not knowing whether you want him to recognize you.

“You really came!”

Chan points at himself, then at you. “Us?”

Minho shifts his gaze to Chan like he didn’t even notice the dimpled man was there whole time.

“Ah… y-yes,” you stutter. “This is very a nice café.”

One look at Chan and you know there’s no way for you to hide anymore. “He invited me!” you quip. “I mean, us.”

“Do you have anyone handling your social media accounts? Planning the digital marketing? Creating ads?” You have bombarded Minho with questions before Chan says anything, skipping the whole small talk step in “how to smoothly intrigue clients” manual.

Seungmin arrives with Minho’s iced Americano, putting the tall glass in front of him with no words before smiling at you and Chan. “Does any of you want anything else?”

“Yes, please,” Minho interrupts before you can refuse. “Please order whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“Pulling the boss card, huh?” Chan jokes. “Then I’ll have orange juice.”

“Y/N?”

You didn’t have a chance to try the vanilla cake Chan ordered because he inhales food instead of digesting them, but the chocolate ice cream looks beyond tempting—

Minho chuckles. “How about our vanilla and chocolate ice cream?”

“Did I say that out loud?” you mumble to yourself, but proceed to thank Minho for his suggestions and tell Seungmin you’d like to have those. Minho flashes you a soft smile, almost making you melt on the spot if it weren’t for Chan’s leg kicking yours.

The conversation continues without any embarrassing incident. Chan lets you do all the talking, only adding further details when necessary while Minho asks you challenging but intriguing questions you answer passionately.

The so-called meeting ends with Minho promising to sign the contract by next week and Chan shaking your hand under the table, both confused and impressed.

“Is that why your employees are so relaxed around you? Because you just want everyone to eat and live well? I swear Seungmin didn’t even try to curse discreetly when you told him to wipe the counter for the 5th time,” you ask.

Minho laughs as the said boy exits his station, backpack slung across his shoulder. “Yes I’ll transfer your money after our guests leave. Don’t you dare remind me again!” the former yells playfully before the part timer opens his mouth. Seungmin bows to you and Chan before scowling at his boss. “You’re the one who told me to—nevermind. See you tomorrow, hyung.”

“I really like that boy,” you coo when Seungmin closes the door.

“I treat them as my friends,” Minho says. “I decided to do this because I just want to help everyone, including my employees. I don’t want Eat Here to be one of those expensive, pretentious cafes. I just want everyone to eat what they want, that’s why we have all sorts of things here. Combination of Eastern and Western, stuff like that. But this is still business, I have to do things to keep it running, right?”

You’ve met a lot of people with beautiful visions, but you’ve never met someone who wants something so simple yet complicated like Minho. It’s been quite a long time since you’re genuinely excited for a project, and now you know why Chan didn’t freak out upon knowing that you met Minho on the train.

“You guys can do whatever you want,” Minho adds, waving to a pair of part timers clocking in. “Are you going back to the office?”

Chan stretches his limbs. “Yeah,” he groans. “Gotta make sure our intern doesn’t jam the printer again.”

Your phone rings the moment Chan finishes his sentence. ”You jinxed it! Hyunjin is calling.”

“Whatever it is, wait until we’re back!” you whisper-yell at your intern.

“But noona, the printer—”

You give Hyunjin no chance to blabber about one specific printer and end the call. Minho giggles at your antiques, and you don’t have the energy to stop yourself from admiring his pretty features in the most obvious ways possible.

Chan pats your back before grabbing his phone and stands up. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

“Take these.” Minho writes your name on one of the paper bags, handing them to you with a big smile. “For everyone at your office. Thanks for reaching out to us.”

You peek inside the bag that has your name scribbled on it, not surprised to see both vanilla and chocolate ice cream inside—it’s the clear bottle that you’re curious about.

“Bye! I’ll send you the gym’s contact later!” Your best friend slash business partner waves at your new client slash crush from the driver’s seat. You take out the bottle, it’s filled with sikhye.

Your favorite drink, but Minho isn’t supposed to know that.

“Everyone deserves a fresh start. Don’t let anyone from your past haunt you. Start Erasure now.”

Minho mutes the television, heaving a sigh as he recounts his fateful meeting with you yesterday. The world has always been rather weird, he would say, but nothing defeats meeting his ex-girlfriend—his first love—who has no recollection of your time together. He heard from his former classmates that you sent them a message a few years ago, informing them that you would undergo the erasure procedure. According to his friends, you specifically told them to “never ever mention Lee Minho’s name or ask you about the procedure.”

You’re back in his life now, happy as ever, and the last thing Minho wants is breaking your heart all over again. He no longer owns that special spot in your heart, you owe him nothing. He left you insecure, disappointed and soulless, and now it’s his turn to be haunted by all the questions and what ifs in his mind.

His phone vibrates as soon as he flips the signage open, your name flashing on his screen. “Hey Y/N what’s up?”

“Minho I can’t multitask so please give me quick and accurate answer. I’m at the traffic light in front of Lotte now—”

“You need to turn left.”

“Okay… didn’t know my non-existent sense of direction is that obvious — damn, let me change lanes.”

Minho suppresses a chuckle. You’ve always been bad with directions.

“Turn left once more, and you’ll find us. We’re right across the first G25 store on the street.”

He steps out the café to welcome you when he spots a white Kia arriving. In contrast to his horrifying memories of teaching you to drive, you manage to parallel-park your car smoothly in 10 seconds, stopping Minho from offering to help you park your car.

“Sorry,” you grimace. “I suck at directions. Last week was the first time I went here and Chan was the one driving so I wasn’t really paying attention… and before you ask, no I can’t use GPS while driving. I barely managed to dial your number.”

Minho lifts his hands. “I was just going to say hello.”

“Oh, good! People always judge me for that!”

You don’t let him respond as you point at the photos on the wall. “Tell me about them!” you request. “Our photographer Hyunjin is going to be here any minute, and we’ll give this corner a special attention. Your customers need to know this.”

Minho scratches his head bashfully, the glint of admiration in your eyes is making him a bit dizzy. It’s been a long time since you looked at him like that. “Uhh, okay. These are the kids I’m supporting, they live in Africa,” he starts. “I hope I can visit them someday, but they’ve been sending me letters, saying thank you... telling me about their days and all.”

“Wow!” you marvel. “How does it feel? To receive such lovely letters?”

“Honestly, it kinda makes me feel like a parent,” he replies. “It feels wonderful.”

Moving onto the next set of photos, his smile grows wider. “I teach these kids dancing, sometimes taekwondo. They’re all very sweet, especially the maknae, Yang Jeongin.” Minho points at a boy with contagious smile. “He can be a brat sometimes, but everyone loves him.”

“Is this an orphanage? Can I meet them?” you blurt out.

“Of course! You’ll love them to bits.”

“You have to come back with Y/N noona!”

A few weeks later, Minho took you to the orphanage. You played with the kids all day and watched him teach them dance. You thought the kids wouldn’t like you as much, but now they’re trying to persuade you to stay the night.

“Aww, of course I’ll come back. Be a good boy, and we’ll be back sooner than you thought!”

Yang Jeongin, the youngest boy in the orphanage, has done everything to make you stay. If it weren’t for your “adult responsibilities,” you would have caved in because nothing could beat his puppy eyes and hopeful smile.

“Alright, go back inside, everyone. All of you need to sleep.”

The kids grumble at Minho’s command, slowly walking back to the main hall. After making sure no one sneaks out to follow you, the two of you make a stop at a nearby park that Minho claims to be the perfect place to admire the moon.

“Okay, you’re not lying. The moon does look pretty from here.”

The man sitting beside you smirks in satisfaction. “I never stay too long but I always like spending time here. Now that I think about it, you kinda resemble the moonlight.”

The switch of the mood has you cackling. “Aren’t everything about the moon associated with werewolves and murders? You’re expecting me to fall for such a lame pickup line?”

“That’s not how I see it.” Minho disagrees. “I think you’re radiant, bright but not blinding. Take it as a compliment.”

The word radiant strikes you light a lightning, forces you to face the harsh reality that you’re doing a really good job in hiding the hollowness inside—all the lingering questions and uneasiness. You’re far from being the light Minho admires.

“Trust me, I’m not radiant whatsoever.”

Minho stiffens, observing you carefully until you feel brave enough to look at him. At first, you see pity in his eyes, but it morphs into something that feels too good to be true. You find tranquil in his gaze, so serene that you nearly let your tears fall.

He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together before pulling you up from your seat. “I’ll tell you whenever you’re being the moonlight that you are,” he promises, his voice is a perfect mix between sincerity and mischief. “Prepared to get sick of me because I’ll remind you everyday.”

Just because most people often cross the line doesn’t mean that being able to exert self-control when needed is something to be proud about, but Minho has always thought of it as his positive trait.

He’s going to cross it out of the list today.

His hand is still holding yours tightly, chatting away with a lopsided smile on his face. And yours. This wasn’t what he intended to do, but life loves to play God and tests him the moment he thinks he knows what he’s doing. Giving you his name card on the train has spiraled into taking you home hand-in-hand, peppering kisses on your temple when you become too cute to handle (which is almost all the damn time) and falling in love with you all over again. What happened in the subway impulsive and dumb, but he couldn’t control himself. He wanted to see you again, he longed to talk to you.

Minho just wanted a second chance to be good to you, but will things ever be enough? How will he make things right again? Providing you free coffee and say thank you for your visit? It was a selfish wish he shouldn’t have acted upon.

“We must’ve crossed paths somehow. There’s no way that we’ve never met before!” you say, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

It’s too late. History repeats itself, but Minho’s too far gone to stop. He’s trying to feel it, the need to exert self-control—he can’t.

“I didn’t come home often,” he lies, every word feels like knife stabbing his heart. You hum in response, a yawn escaping from your mouth as both of you are nearing your unit. Minho watches you enter the door password, mouthing the numbers silently, 2 3 0 9. Your grandma’s birthday. It’s always been your password for everything—phone, laptop, even Minho’s old apartment since you were the one who set it for him. It stays with him until this very day although he no longer lives in the same apartment.

You tug at his sleeve. “Come on in.”

Your stuffs are pretty much the same, if not exactly the same as a few years ago. The only things missing were those related to him. Polaroid photos of you together, the umbrella he left at your place, the mug he…. wait.

The purple mug Minho bought for you is sitting on the kitchen counter, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. Did you forget to get rid of it before the procedure?

“Let me go change first,” you tell him. “Feel free to grab any snack. There’s cold water and beer in the fridge.”

He can barely answer as you disappear into your room. Memories start flooding his mind, it feels as if he finally finds all the folders with your name on them that he tried so hard to bury, stashed in the deepest part of his heart.

Those memories were so painfully beautiful he has to bite his lip to prevent his tears from falling.

“Oh that’s my favorite mug!”

You’re back, dressed in the black loose T-shirt you always wear during summers. Minho’s eyes automatically dart to your left shoulder, spotting the hole on the shirt that exposes a part of your shoulder.

Another thing that hasn’t changed. Another thing that makes you the you he knew. Another thing that diminishes his self-control into nothing because you have no idea how much he loved to—

“Minho?”

You cradle this face softly, wiping the tears he didn’t know he shed. Confusion and panic reflected in your irises. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” He touches his cheek before attempting to laugh. “Something probably went into my eyes...”

“Let me see.” Before he refuses, you’ve taken a step closer, gently blowing into his eyes. “Better? Want some eye drop?”

Minho shakes his head, removing your hands from his face and plants a kiss on your forehead. Another mistake that feels so right. “I guess I’m just tired. Is it okay if we chat some other time?”

You mumble an okay, following him to the front door. When he turns the door knob, you reach for his hand. “Hey,” you murmur, slowly examining his face. Minho tries to read yours in return, sensing your hesitation. He waits for a good minute patiently, letting you form words in your head.

“What are we? These things we’ve been doing… what do they mean to you? Does this mean we’re…”

You let out a frustrated sigh, more directed to yourself than him, and Minho understands what you’re talking about. He tightens his grip on the knob, desperately begging himself to stop all of this. You don’t deserve another heartbreak when you’ve done everything to continue living.

You’re a whole new person, yet you remain the one he adored. How can you be so different yet familiar? How can you be so… dearly you?

“Minho, does this mean that we’re—”

Minho throws his arms around you, burying his head into the crook your neck before slowly trailing his lips towards the exposed part of your shoulder. You have no idea how much he loves leaving kisses there, on that particular spot. As strange as it sounds, it gives him the strength and hope he needs. Minho never told you this; you’ll never be able to imagine how happy and relieved he currently feels when he plants one, two, three, countless kisses that set his whole being on fire.

“We are,” he whispers, dropping one last kiss before pulling you even closer, enveloping your body in his embrace.

There’s only one thing in Minho’s head now: love. He can only think about loving you better than before, and in this moment nothing can stop him from doing so because whether he likes the old you or the new you doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho just loves you, and he doesn’t want to think about anything else. Not even his selfishness. And especially not your future heartbreak.

“You’re so precious, Y/N. You’re so precious to me.”

Hyunjin is the only one at the office when you arrive. He’s busy with his camera, changing its setting every now and then before capturing random things on his desk. You and Chan were on the fence about hiring him at first since you’re just a small company and he’s a student with high expectations. However, Hyunjin turns out to be the one of the most eager apprentices ever, and you’re going to bawl your eyes out when his internship ends next month.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, only earning a distracted “Huh?” as an answer.

“Hyunjin, don’t forget to go over the photoshoot details with me before we leave later, okay?”

He lifts his head a little this time. “Okay. Let me just finish trying out this new technique Seungmin taught me.”

You chuckle, snapping a photo of your intern yelling at his camera when he messes up. Sending it to Chan, you write, “We should give him a raise.”

Your phone rings a few seconds later, frowning when Chan’s urgent voice greets you. “I’m inside my car. Can we talk?”

“Whoa, relax. What happened?”

“Y/N, please. Just come out for a sec.”

No one wants to start a fight with Chan when he’s talking in that tone, so you inform Hyunjin you’re stepping out for a bit. Chan’s sedan is parked right in front of the building, his conflicted face prompts you to enter the car right away.

“You told me there’s something weird about Minho but now you’re dating him? And you’re hiding it from me?” he deadpans without waiting for you to close the door.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” you murmur. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

Chan sighs in exasperation. “Why do you think you owe me an explanation? I’m your best friend, not your mother. How is Minho different from any other guy you’ve dated that you really tried to keep it a secret from me?”

You gulp. “Things between Minho and I… it’s different. I thought I knew what liking someone felt like, but after meeting him I realized I knew nothing about it. Everything feels so overwhelmingly wonderful and insanely intense I think I may fall apart if I start talking about it.”

Your best friend gives you a knowing look, but says nothing as he stares at a random stranger walking down the street. “And I know you’re not really fond of him so I was trying to look for the perfect timing to tell you. Sorry.”

“I just want to keep you safe. This guy knows small details about you that even I didn’t know. Are you sure you never met him before?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath before adding, “Did you do that erasure procedure?”

“How am I supposed to know?” you snap. “Isn’t forgetting about the whole thing the point of the procedure?”

“You love him, don’t you?” Chan’s voice is soft this time, but his words hit you right in the gut you have to stop yourself from flinching. Hearing someone say that they love you is scary, admitting that you are in love is a hundred times scarier.

Taking your silence as a yes, Chan turns on the engine. “Look, the last thing I want is seeing you sad. It breaks me, more than you know. So please consider trying to find out the truth. How are you going to love him if you don’t trust him? How is he going to love you if he keeps you in the dark?”

You lean your head against the window, watching your best friend dialing Hyunjin’s number to tell him that both of you will be back after lunch.

“We better be quick,” Chan says. “Hyunjin’s terrified he will have to answer Mr. Song’s call again.”

“We should definitely give him a raise.”

“Oh we will,” he snickers. “If he survives Mr. Song’s call.”

“You’re cruel.”

For the first time in your life, you feel like a ruling queen inside your island instead of a trapped princess. You know every nook, every secret passage, every hidden treasure that nobody else has ever explored. Everything feels real for once, you’re in control and you want to stay here forever.

Eat Here has gained more regular customers since you and Chan started handling its social media accounts, and the face-splitting grin on Minho’s face whenever a new customer pushes the door open makes you feel proud and giddy at the same time.

You weren’t able to witness your Hottest Man Alive greeting his customers happily today, but you promised to pay him a visit at the café. It’s a few minutes past 10, meaning the café has closed for the day, so you were prepared to see everyone cleaning up. To you surprise, there’s nobody inside when you arrive.

“Minho?”

Your boyfriend waves from inside the pantry. “Coming!”

Moments later, he comes out with a tray of food. Gesturing at you to take a seat, he places a bowl of potato salad, a pot of kimchi jjigae and some side dishes. “Wait, let me get some more.”

You recall your phone conversation 2 hours ago, vaguely remembering telling Minho that you haven’t had dinner. When he serves the last batch of side dishes and a bottle of sikhye, you tease him for being so sweet.

“I’m not being sweet though?” He pulls out a chair for himself, watching you eat with content eyes. “You said you were starving, so I prepared you some food.”

You shrug, letting him pour sikhye into your glass. “I just never expected that you’re someone who…”

“… cooks?” he finishes for you. “I just did the bare minimum. Do you really want to see me being sweet?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Minho clears his throat, the way he stares at you makes you fidget in your seat. Only God knows what’s inside this man’s mind. One second he’s nonchalant and cool, then he’s Mr. Flirty and makes you all swoony.

Patting his thigh, he smiles at you. “Come here baby.”

You shake your head in fear of completely losing your sanity. “No. What are you trying to do?”

“Being the most romantic boyfriend ever. Come on.”

Minho tries his best to suppress his laugh as you finally settle yourself on his lap, not sure whether you should rest your head on his shoulder or peck his lips or marvel at how firm his thighs are... damn it Y/N, what are you? 17?

Although you’re just sitting there like a log, Minho looks unbothered and reaches for the chocolate cake. He slices it into smaller bites, taking a piece of it with the fork before telling you to open your mouth. “If you still want ice cream then we can get some on the way home.”

“I’ve had enough ice cream for today. I went to this cute ice cream parlor with Chan.”

You take the plate from him, stuffing yourself with the rest of the cake. Minho’s soft pats on your shoulder and the sweet taste of chocolate seem to flush all the initial awkwardness from your system.

Another hour passes with you curling up on Minho’s lap, the latter listening to your little speech about how grateful you are for vending machines as if you’re talking about world peace. Your back hurts and his thighs ache but the way your head nestles in the crook of his neck and the way he pecks your cheek every few minutes are enough of a spell to trap both of you in this exact moment, where lies, doubts and regrets cease to exist.

You wake up with a jolt, reaching for your water bottle on the bedside table. It’s surreal for a dream to feel that real—it almost felt like a memory, something distant but present nonetheless. You’re sure that was the younger Minho you saw in the dream instead of the one you know, and before you come to a realization that it’s currently 2AM, you’re already dialing his number.

He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hmmm my moonlight, missed me?”

His sleepy voice causes you to blush, definitely not seeing that coming. “Nothing.” You wince at your parched voice. “I just had a dream.”

Minho lets out a low laugh, you can hear him sitting up on his bed. “About me?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

You sink into your bed, heaving a sigh you forget to hide. “It’s complicated.”

“Was it a bad dream?” Minho’s voice is firm but oh so calming that you start recounting every detail you can remember. He listens to you attentively, humming once in a while, and your muscles are all relaxed now. Minho is here, listening to your bullshit in the wee hours of the morning. Minho is here, calling you his moonlight with the most caring tone ever.

“I miss you,” he declares the moment you finish talking. “Can I come over?”

“All of sudden? Minho, it’s 2AM.” You glance at the clock. “Wait, it’s 2:18 now.”

“Then I’ll be there at 3AM.”

“But—”

He hangs up, and you just sit there until Minho enters your room at 3AM sharp, taking in your dumfounded state before plopping himself onto the bed and pulling you close. “I’m here,” he sweetly says and you can only nod, eyes boring into his as he runs his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I like you, exactly the way you like me. I like you more.”

You shake your head, burying your head in the crook of his neck to hide your red cheeks. “It was just a dream,” he adds, enunciating each word like a mantra. Closing your eyes, you repeat his words again and again inside your head, traces of pain from the dream still crawling up your skin as Minho’s sweet praises lull you to sleep.

“I’m sorry but that’s classified information. We cannot mention anything about our patients.”

“But she did the procedure because of me! I’m the one she erased!”

“That only gives us more reasons to forbid you from obtaining any information. It’s our policy to protect our patients, especially after the procedure is done.”

Minho wonders how this sullen kid managed to land the job, but bites his tongue before he really gets kicked out. He takes one deep breath before pleading at so-called receptionist (his name is Kim Seungmin but he could care less) once again. “May I at least know whether she was in so much pain?”

Seungmin fixes his glasses. “People her age mostly spend their money on traveling or whatever cool things they want to do, but she chose to have her memories manipulated so she wouldn’t have to remember you. I think that’s enough of an explanation.”

It’s no big deal, Minho tells himself. It’s normal for people to have the Erasure procedure thesedays. In fact, it’s become so normal that no one bothers to talk about it anymore. Erasure is simply another way to move on, just like Love Alarm is another way to detect love. If you decided that your memories together weren’t precious enough to keep in your heart, so be it. If he hurt you that much but you chose to erase him instead of confronting him, then it’s your loss.

Exactly. Was he that bad? Did he hurt you that much?

“Excuse me, Sir?” Seungmin is already standing by the door. “I think it’s better for you to leave.”

“Alright.” Minho lifts his hands in defeat, starting to feel bad for the poor boy who’s just trying to keep his job. “Hang in there, kid.”

“Congratulations, you just earned a VIP pass to Hell.”

Eat Here is doing well, the kids he’s supporting are starting school soon and he finally gets to return the feelings of the girl he loves the most but yes, Seungmin is right. The gates of Hell are open for Minho.

“Right,” he scoffs. “As if you didn’t greet people with a smile and convinced them that erasure was the best solution for all their problems.”

Seungmin grits his teeth; talks about Dr. Seo Changbin’s Erasure Centre are never easy for both of them. For Seungmin, it reminds him of all the pain, rage and guilt he thought he was used to seeing. For Minho, it reminds him of his selfishness and failure to make you happy.

“The erasure did help a lot of people though,” the puppy-eyed boy trails off. “It’s been years yet I’m still torn between wanting the procedure to perish and thanking it for saving lives.”

“Maybe it does save people. But then there’s Y/N.”

“And you,” Seungmin adds.

Minho chuckles. “And you.”

“Are you just gonna wait until she realizes that those dreams actually happened?”

A long silence looms over them until Seungmin slides a clear CD case along the counter. “I guess it’s time to reveal how I risked my life for you the day I quit my job there.”

A label with your name is plastered on it along with the logo of the centre. It’s the answer to all his questions when he first met Seungmin. The sole proof that everything between the two of you happened.

“I can get sued anytime,” the part-timer warns jokingly. “So use it well, and don’t cry. She said some hurtful things, but you deserved it anyways.”

“Do you think it could last another hour?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo and tells the models to get a 5-minute break. “Do you want an honest answer or an intern-can-make-anything-happen answer?” he whispers at you while checking his shots.

You’re currently at a photoshoot in Gyeongju with a client you desperately need to impress, but your clumsiness just had to choose today to get in action. Chan was almost furious when you told him you left all the cameras’ charging cables at Minho’s apartment.

“So we’re fucked up,” you conclude. “How many outfits are left?”

“Including this one… three.”

“We’re so fucked up,” you correct yourself, approaching Chan to relay the expected bad news when a familiar car arrives at the villa. You barely hear Hyunjin muttering, “God is a male… for today…” before rushing to take the black duffel bag from Minho’s hand. He only smiles when you tell him he’s getting all the hugs and kisses later.

The photoshoot continues smoothly; allowing you, Chan and Hyunjin actually breathe after 5 hours trying to make the cameras’ batteries last as long as possible.

“I’m so sorry Chan,” you sigh.

He lets out a weak chuckle. “It’s fine. The problem’s solved anyways.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Thanks to you.” Chan glances at your boyfriend who’s leaning on his car, watching you from afar. “Minho brought the chargers, but you were the one who made him drive all the way here. You need to stop underestimating his feelings for you.”

You let Chan’s words sink in, eyes meeting Minho’s in the process. For a split second you forget about everything’s that’s been bugging you, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in his affection for you.

“Do you trust Minho now?”

Chan puts his hand inside his pocket, exhaling softly. “I know he’s crazy for you Y/N, I’m not dense. But does that mean he’s being honest with you?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo that marks the end of the shoot, giving you a reason not to respond to Chan, jogging towards the models instead. “Thank you, everyone!” You bow to them. “There are some snacks left inside so please eat before you go, or you may take them home.”

You can still feel Minho’s eyes on you, following you wherever you run with the sweetest kind of fondness that makes it hard for you to question him. He’s like a prince who comes from another kingdom after crossing the long bridge and fighting in the wild forest. He stands there in front of your castle, waiting for you to deem him worthy of your love, of you.

How do you say no to that?

But how do you know if he sees you the way you feel he does?

After that night, you’ve had other dreams—the ones you never told him—each dream etched itself into your mind, filling in the empty spaces slowly but surely. They become a part of you so naturally that you’re convinced you somehow lived them.

“What are you thinking about?”

Minho has just finished loading the last box of props into Chan’s car trunk, now waiting for you to break your train of thoughts with an amused smile. You barely hear Chan and Hyunjin saying goodbye before they enter the car, leaving the two of you alone.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Minho’s smile is long gone, his expression mirroring yours: confused, lost, a bit scared. “Are you okay?”

Even your 18 year-old self knew what to do then. A bit late, but she did it. The thought of embracing her as a part of you is making you nauseous, the acknowledgement of having a past you don’t remember is disturbingly scary.

“Those dreams... they were real, right? Those are my memories.”

Your stomach churns when Minho nods, surprisingly calmer than you expected. He pulls out a CD out of his bag, carefully slipping it into your hand. The thin plastic feels heavy in your hold, the world as you know it crumbling at the realization that this Lee Minho was the same boy who had your heart in his palm and broke it.

“I tried to picture this situation in my head every single day, but never had the courage to actually tell you. I’m so sorry Y/N. For everything, then and now.”

Lee Minho, the one who sees you as his moonlight, was also the one whose heart could never be yours.

“I’m Lee Minho. We’re both from Gimpo, and we met at high school. We were best friends, then sometime during 11th grade we started dating. You were this amazing, lovely girl who wore your heart on your sleeves, and I was the asshole who failed to realize how blessed I was to have you.”

Minho pauses to look into your eyes, the sorrow in his orbs triggers the tears you refuse to shed. “I became your boyfriend because I didn’t want to lose you,” he continues. “I was stupid, wasn’t I? Stupid and inconsiderate. All I had to do was tell you how I felt…”

"B-but why?” you sob. “Y-you l-lied to me, Minho. Again.”

“I did. Fuck. I did,” he admits. “You have every right to never ever forgive me. But Y/N, I never meant to play with your feelings. I was too late, but I loved you then. I love you now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to love anyone else even if I try.”

Phase 2: Forgotten Days

“A mug?”

Minho hums as an answer while copying your English homework in a speed of light, failing to answer your questions about why, out of all things he could buy in Japan, he decided to gift you a mug. You let out a huff when he leaves your next question hang in the air (“How did you know that I needed a new mug?”), but lets him be since the bell will ring in 15 minutes.

The purple mug is quite heavy and somehow that makes your heart flutter. Minho gave all the other classmates green tea Kit Kats and keychains, but he was willing to fit the bulky mug into his tiny suitcase for you.

You don’t know what’s going on inside his head most of the time, for all you know he could’ve bought the mug because he forgot to buy something for you and decided to grab the first thing in sight. It’s just a little gift, something you should just appreciate without thinking too much about it, but you can’t help but wonder. Sometimes you feel sorry for yourself for overanalyzing Minho’s every little gesture, trying to guess how much he likes you.

“I’m done!” Minho exclaims, returning your book before grabbing his wallet. He finally looks into your eyes, smiling at you as he ruffles your hair. “Gotta grab some snacks. You want anything? Strawberry milk? Chips?”

When he comes back with both although you told him you only wanted chips, Minho argues that he knows you’ll get hungry in the middle of lessons. Again, it shouldn’t feel so special, but he’s looking at you now, you and no one else. Lee Minho is like an enigma, but at times like this, you bask in his bright smile and everything is forgotten.

Summer is the enemy you’ve managed to beat every single year, but combine the scorching heat with excruciating cramps and you don’t stand a chance. You peek into the practice room once again, but Minho is still practicing his dance routines, his phone laid neglected at the corner of the room. The supposed-to-be 30 minutes practice turns into an hour, and you decide to just wait outside since you don’t have energy to go home on your own.

The door opens when you’re on the verge of passing out, luckily someone has caught you before you collapse on the floor. “Y/N,” Minho’s voice forces you to open your eyes. “What happened?”

“… cramps…”

He lifts you and dashes to the infirmary without saying anything else, yelling at some other students to “fucking move!” while trying not to trip over his undone shoelaces. You try to tell him that you’re alright, just a little tired from enduring the pain but he gives you no chance to talk.

Minho finally stays still after kicking the infirmary’s door to no avail. He makes no other attempt to open the door, slowly making eye contact with your drowsy eyes. You love seeing fire in Minho’s eyes, especially when he dances or plays with his friends. This is the first time Minho sees you with such intensity, but this is not the passionate flame you’ve been craving to see. This fire is destructive, painful. It breaks your heart that he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the source of all unfortunate events that happens in his life.

You feel like you’re the unfortunate event in his life, and the thought is enough to make you break free from his bruising grip, pushing the door open yourself.

“Go back to practice,” you tell him, sitting on one of the beds. “I’ll lie down for a bit then go home.”

Minho rummages through the medicine cupboard, taking a painkiller pill and fills an empty glass with warm water. “Drink this, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine, Minho…”

He shakes his head. “You’re sick and I’m taking you home.”

Too weak to argue, you swallow the pill and let him walk you home. Minho keeps his hand around your shoulder the whole time, not even bothering to check his ringing phone. He doesn’t talk to you either, and at this rate the silence is more concerning than your cramps.

“Can you go up on your own?” he murmurs when you reach your apartment building. “I have to go back to school, but I’ll stop by later.”

You only nod, about to wave him goodbye when he reaches for your arm. “Wait.”

Minho cups your face, pressing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. Soon, he starts kissing you harder, but his lips still feel cold against yours and he still feels so faraway even when he’s gripping your waist like his life depends on it.

“Minho,” you manage to rasp, cradling his face to stop him from planting another kiss on your lips. He opens his eyes, staring at you with those beautiful eyes that, sadly, never really shine for you. “Your friends are waiting.”

Still panting, Minho gives you a nod before pulling away. The fire you saw in his eyes earlier has died out.

As you watch him walk away, you finally realize that you’ve been asking yourself the wrong question. It’s not about how much Minho likes you, it’s about whether he likes you at all.

If Minho could choose only one person to be with for the rest of his life, he would choose you. He enjoyed watching movies with you, he loved sending his silly selfies to you, he always wanted to end a tiring day by talking to you all night long.

He can still do that, you’re still his friend. The only difference is that he can hug and kiss you and tell other people that he’s yours. Minho doesn’t know why he lets the words “boyfriend and girlfriend” change the dynamics between the two of you, but it’s too late to undo everything.

“Can we just be friends again?” he repeats the question in his head over and over, yet he can never voice it out. The look in your eyes will be too devastating for him to bear, and he will you lose you forever.

“I’m outside,” he tells you over the phone, trying not to flinch at your excited “Oh!”

A few minutes later, you step out of the elevator, walking towards him with big steps.

“Feeling better?” he asks, noting the way your eyes light up at the question.

“Hmm. I took a short nap and it’s gone.”

Minho sighs. “Don’t wait for me next time. If I take too long, you can just go home. I’m sorry that I let you wait around like that.”

The last sentence causes you to lower your gaze, seemingly self-conscious with the fact that he forgot you were waiting for him. “Bought you some ice cream,” Minho says, trying to distract you from your thoughts. “Chocolate, vanilla, mint choco, it’s all there.”

“As an apology?” you half-tease, the tinge of sadness in your voice causes Minho’s heart to clench a little.

He quickly pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Yes and no,” he murmurs into your hair. Part of him is relieved when you don’t question his answer, only humming against his chest before wrapping your arms around him. It’s so easy to make you happy and it angers him. You’re too kind. Too patient. Too loyal. You’re too in love with him, and it hurts not being able to feel the same.

But as the warmth of your body starts to comfort his senses, Minho realizes this is where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, no matter what the labels are. “If you miss the last bus you’re gonna have to walk all the way home,” you remind him, voice muffled since neither of you wants to let go.

“One more minute,” he replies, fingers playing with the hole on your shirt. He places one feathery kiss there, a silent promise that he’s going to try his best loving you. The one promise that could have made you stay, but it remained unsaid until the day you left him.

“Surprise!”

Minho lets out a yelp, coughing up confetti that you pop right in front of face. His parents, standing a few steps behind you, are giggling at their son’s reaction. “I thought you had to go somewhere with your mom!” he exclaims, the surprise in his eyes is now replaced by confusion and… annoyance?

You quietly step aside, letting him shake off the confetti as you’re trying to find your voice. Minho’s parents don’t seem to notice the tension, laughing and explaining that they invited you over for the family birthday dinner.

His mother ushers both of you to the dining room where the feast awaits. “After all this time you still haven’t introduced Y/N to Soonie!” she protests jokingly while the said cat is purring at you. Coming over to Minho’s house without his knowledge sounded like a terrible idea right from the start, but now you really wish you had turned the offer down. The birthday boy only pats you on the back before telling you to sit down, and you spend the rest of the dinner conversing without ever looking at each other in the eyes. That’s no surprise, what surprises you is the fact that you don’t even bother trying to get him look at you.

After 2 years, you’re finally tired of waiting for Minho to love you.

“Soonie doesn’t usually like strangers,” Minho says as you’re walking to the bus stop. “But he really likes you.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like me. Do you like me?”

Minho chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

Words are bubbling inside your head, all emotions threatening to spill out you have to literally swallow them down. It feels like the world has come to a stop—the realization that your world has been revolving around Minho all this time makes you feel queasy.

“Y/N?”

You want to explode. You wish you can explode. There’s nothing you want more than taking out every piece of your broken heart, count all of them and show him how much you’ve been hurting. You thought your love was enough for both of you, but the bigger your love grew, the farther the distance between the two of you became.

Minho keeps his gaze on you as you’re mustering up courage to ask the most heartbreaking question. “Why?” you quiver. “Why do you pretend that you like me? Why do you bother doing that for 2 years?”

“I-I like you. So much,” he stutters. “Just not in the same way you like me…”

Blinking your tears away, you return his tormented gaze. “Then why did you let me like you alone? Every fucking day you let me wonder how much you like me, if I mean anything to you… I wait for you, convincing myself that you must’ve liked me if you chose to be my boyfriend. But it’s just a game to you, isn’t it?”

Lee Minho has always had his own way to love. You’ve seen him showering those around him with love in ways that seem so ordinary that people often take it for granted. But you see and feel everything, including hints that your feelings have always been one sided. You bury all those hints, telling yourself that he only needs time.

That time never comes, and you have run out of lies and excuses and hope to cover up for both of you.

Phase 3: Chasing Moonlight

The Queen lived under a spell all this time, believing that the foreign kingdom was her whole world while she didn’t even have a home to begin with.

But the ruins of her castle—the only thing that’s left of the kingdom she tried to understand her whole life—will become one. She’s going to build herself a new kingdom, one that she knows by heart, and call it home.

“Noona!!! I’m going home!!! Don’t stay there too long!!! You’ll get sick!!!”

You tear your gaze from the cloudy sky as Hyunjin shouts at you from the ground. You dismiss him with a little wave, forcing a small smile so that the boy will leave instead of going back to the rooftop.

“He’s right,” Chan adds. “You’ve been here for hours.”

After showing up at work with puffy eyes and hoarse voice, Chan attempted to send you home, but you insisted to complete some of your tasks before breaking down during lunch after Hyunjin accidentally revealed that he would meet Seungmin at Eat Here.

So here you are, finally sated after crying all the tears you had left at the rooftop during the remaining working hours.

“I’m fine,” you croak, cringing at your own voice. “You can leave.”

“And let you stay here until you’re all stiff and frozen?”

“Just let me be pathetic for one more day.”

He furrows his brows. “You’re not being pathetic. After what he’s done to you, weeping is the least you should do.”

You let out your first laugh of the day. “I surely wept.”

Looking incredibly relieved that you haven’t lost the ability to feel other emotions than sadness, Chan continues, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Do you know what hurts the most?”

He takes the longest time to think, but shakes his head at the end.

“The fact that I’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, but go on.”

“Should I give him one last chance? Or should I just hate him until I die? What’s the right thing to do? What should I do to heal? What should he do to heal? All these questions are driving me insane.”

Those questions are the easiest to answer, so you expect Chan to sigh and tell you to snap out of it, but he just smiles at you. “What do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Have you tried answering your own questions? What you want to do is what you’re supposed to do. It’s easy, my dear friend.”

“I want to…”

Your mind wanders to last night, recalling that agony on Minho’s face that mirrors your own. A small part of you wants him to suffer for the rest of his life, consumed by guilt and the sheer horror of being erased from someone else’s memories.

“I want to curse him out.”

Chan playfully smacks your head. “You didn’t do that?”

“My mind went blank, then I started crying. That wasn’t cool at all, I know,” you huff. “I should’ve told him to go to hell or something.”

“After that? What do you want to do?”

You bury your face into your palms, ignoring the teasing tone in Chan’s questions. “The last time we talked, you were Lee Minho’s #1 hater. What happened?”

“I just wanted him to be honest with you. I never hated him,” he tells you softly. “Do you?”

You may never get all of your memories back, but the ones you can remember are enough to know that being with Minho used to be a silent torture. He was a thorny rose, beautiful yet unattainable. You wanted him so much you refused to look down and see your bloody fingers. The thorns were stuck there for the longest time, eventually infecting your soul until you were too weak to heal yourself.

But he’s not that boy anymore. He’s just Minho who listens to all of your rambles and actually keeps all those details in his mind. He gives you the warmest hugs and the most sincere kisses. He stays by your side, and you will always want him to stay.

When you finally lift your head to answer Chan, he gives you his reassuring smile that never fails to make you feel better. It’s the first time he’s talking about Minho without a frown, and you hope it’s a good sign. “Like I said,” he sing-songs. “Do what you want to do.”

The sound of footsteps approaching prompts you to curl yourself into a ball, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible under the dining the table. Jeongin manages to push the heavy door open after a few tries, mumbling that you’re not going to take the “king of hide and seek” title from him. You can’t help but giggle at his determination, waiting for him to find you while he’s scanning the whole room.

“Minho hyung!”

You stay still, not wanting to fall into the 5 year-old’s tricks so easily… until you hear Minho’s voice calling the little boy’s name. “What are you guys playing? Where’s Y/N?”

“We’re playing hide and seek,” Jeongin answers, his eyes still as sharp as a hawk. “I’ve found everyone, only Y/N noona is left!”

Minho hums. “Want me to help you find her?”

You don’t hear Jeongin responding, but the next thing you see is a pair of pretty eyes staring into yours. “Found her,” Minho murmurs.

Jeongin pulls you out with a huge grin on his face. “I knew you were there! Thanks for helping me, hyung.”

Minho ruffles the boy’s head before gazing back at you. “If you’re thankful, can I borrow her for a second? We just need to talk, then she’s all yours.”

You can’t find the strength to say no, hoping Jeongin will somehow be clingy this time. “Are you guys fighting?” he asks instead.

“Do you think we’re fighting?”

Jeongin nods, his sparkly eyes turn gloomy. “If I let you talk, will you make up?”

Minho glances at you. “I don’t know… I made a huge mistake.”

“Did you make her cry?”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms, voice thick with remorse and you’re not sure how long you can pretend to be okay in front of Jeongin.“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

You crouch down, pinching the boy’s pout with an endearing smile. “I promise nothing bad will happen. Can we go outside now? I’m sure everyone is waiting for you.”

Still a bit sullen, he links his hand with yours and lets you lead him out, Minho trailing behind the two of you. Once you’re back at the garden, Jeongin whispers into your ear, “I’ll always be your friend, noona. I won’t hurt you.”

“Of course you won’t,” you laugh. “I’ll join you soon, okay?”

Minho turns to you as soon as Jeongin goes back to his friends, studying your expressions carefully. You want to tell him so many things, yet the only words you can produce are, “Fuck you, Lee Minho.”

You feel slightly lighter when Minho says nothing to defend himself, sitting on the grass before gesturing at you to do the same. It fuels your need to let out the pain you previously sealed inside your heart, ironically basking in his comforting presence as you do so.

“The whole time I felt like something was missing. You knew that, then went on hiding the rest of the puzzle pieces and left me there, incomplete. Just like that.”

This isn’t your first time baring your heart to Minho, the last time you did it you were left with such immeasurable pain that erasing a part of your brain—your soul—sounded like a better choice. You wait for the sadness and rage to take over your mind, but the storm never comes. You wonder what makes it different until Minho shifts to look at you in the eye.

Minho is looking at you with those pretty eyes like you’re the only one he can see. It’s not just a sweet dream you tried to dream of every night when you were 17. You’re no longer the only one who’s wearing your heart on your sleeves.

“Am I doing this because I feel guilty or because I genuinely want to be with you?” he begins. “Believe me Y/N, I spent months trying to find the answer and justify what I did, but I guess you can never exactly separate those two feelings.”

His confession is bittersweet; you know it won’t end all your personal battles. You still have to fight them, help yourself to understand why you are thinking and acting the way you are. The gaps have been filled, and now you have to be the one who define yourself.

“I thought I could just treat you better for the rest of our lives. I was sure my love would be enough to heal you. That was very stupid and selfish of me, and I’m sorry. You’re free to hate me, push me away, ruin my life… the decision is yours. But I don’t wanna hide how I feel anymore. Not from you.”

You’re still pondering his words when Jeongin comes to check on you, making sure Minho isn’t making you cry again.

“No, Jeongin, I’m fine. Look? I’m not crying!” you reassure the pouty kid.

He beams at you with his toothy smile. “Really?! Did you make up? Friends have to forgive each other!”

“I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “And yes, we made up. Friends forgive each other.”

Minho shoots you a surprised look, but you ignore him until you convince Jeongin that he can continue playing. “I don’t know whether we can go back to what we were,” you tell him, gazing at the clear sky. “I still need time to process everything, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t ever see you again. So we can be friends, if you want.”

He chuckles, eyes sparkling and hopeful. “Hi. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I’m Y/N,” you reply. “Anyways, Lee Minho my new friend, how did you know that I’m here?”

“Your scary friend Bang Chan told me you’d be here.”

“So you think Chan is scary.”

Minho does something that’s between a shrug and a shudder. “He’s always shooting daggers at me how do you not notice?!”

As you and Minho spend the rest of the day laughing and enjoying the sun, you rediscover the magic of following your heart.

It’s heavenly.

To Minho, there are only okay days and good days. Bad days almost never happen, but today is a bad day. Everything started from Eat Here’s fruit supplier sending them the wrong strawberries, then Seungmin called in sick minutes before his shift started, and now he has to deal with a couple whose order hasn’t been processed since 40 minutes ago.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. We’re processing your order now and it will be on us. Jisung, we need another 2 glasses of lemonade—”

“We need our food, not—”

Minho’s lips stretch into a thin smile, the kind of smile he hates because you once said you could sense that he was faking it. His business smile is the only that can save him now, so he ignores the fact that you’re watching the whole chaos and says, “It will be on us. You’re going to need more drinks while waiting.”

After making sure that he’s appeased the angry customers, Minho goes back to the small table at the corner where you’re waiting for him. He can no longer mask his fatigue and annoyance when you lay your eyes on him, all he wants now is to hold you in his arms and sleep everything away. He knows he can’t ask you for more, he’s already getting more than he deserves since you agreed to be friends with him again.

He’s undeniably the luckiest man in the whole galaxy, but it’s human instincts to always want more. There are days when his longing for you is too much to handle, and today is one of those days.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when a cold glass is pressed against his cheek. “Minho?”

“Huh?”

Your eyes crinkle knowingly when he focuses his eyes on you again. “I want to listen to you ranting but I really need to go now. Chan needs me back at the office.”

“Okay,” he answers rather brashly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Minho almost pouts the way Jeongin does (that pout always gets him) whenever the two of you are going home, luckily he stops himself just in time, opting to wonder what will happen if he tells you that he wants you to stay just a minute longer instead.

You make your way to the door, but not without stopping to give him one last advice, “You better not complain that everything is annoying every 5 seconds if you want that new guy to last more than a day. He’s been looking like a lost quokka!”

Your “warning” came out a bit too loud than you expected. Of course, it reaches Han “that new guy” Jisung’s ears and Minho hopes he remembers to give the poor kid a slice of cheesecake for free after his shift ends. You flash him an apologetic smile, turning to Jisung to convince him that his boss isn’t as bad as he seems before your phone rings.

“He’s harmless, Jisung, just make him iced Americano everyday, praise his cats, and you’re good. Okay, I have to go now or I’ll be jobless in an hour! Byeee!”

Minho’s mouth has curled into a lovesick smile at your antics, waving at you until you close the door of your car. The way you naturally calm him down surprises him everytime, it’s like you’re unaware of how much power you have over him.

God, you really own every inch of his heart, don’t you?

Second chances are overrated.

People change, but once you pay attention to them a just a liiiitle more, you realize that they’re still the same. Lee Minho believes he doesn’t deserve any second chance from you, yet he finds himself seeking forgiveness the moment he looked into your eyes again. As selfish as it sounds, Minho wants your love. Nobody else’s, just yours.

He tried to fill in the empty space you left with other people, but none of them fit. It was always too much or too little, punching him right in his gut for ever thinking that what you two had was too much, that you were too much.

Seeing you fast asleep in his living room with Soonie, Doongie and Dori is another reminder that you were never too much.

You were, and still are, his everything.

Dori opens her eyes before jumping out of your arms, making you stir. Minho quietly strokes your hair to lull you back to sleep, but soon your eyes flutter open as well. “Hmmm look who’s here… the hottest man alive,” you mumble.

Minho points at himself. “Not that I’m surprised, but thank you.”

Your sleepy smile and the breathy chuckle that comes after make his stomach flip. It’s just a simple reaction, something you probably didn’t realize doing, but it feels breathtakingly intimate and loving to Minho. A small part of you that only him can see, something that will cross his mind sometime during work, making him wish time to pass quickly so he can rush back home. To you.

Damn, he promised himself not to let him picture a life with you as the love of his life, but look at his defense crumbling right in front of you because of a mere smile.

You seem to notice his dilemma, lips forming another smile. Opening your arms, you whisper, “Come here.”

The voices in his head are drowned by your request, it’s echoing inside his head like a deathly spell. You have him in your embrace nanoseconds later, curling your hands around his neck as he completely succumbs to his longing.

Minho’s head buzzes with the need to tell you that he loves you, wants you, and misses you to the point that he almost asks you to please please please please forgive him and take him back.

“Okay.”

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, eyes flickering to yours. You chuckle at his reaction, cupping his cheeks with your warm hands. “Say that again.”

“Say… what again?”

Minho blinks up at you, tiny groans of regret escaping his lips when he realizes that he just spilled everything out loud. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. I know this isn’t about me, but—”

“Did you mean it, though?”

“Of course I did,” Minho says. “But I want to go according to your pace.”

“If I didn’t want the same thing I wouldn’t be here, Minho.” Your voice is as sweet as honey, hypnotizing him into dropping his hopeless pretense. “I’ve built a new home that truly feels like home. It’s probably just a small house, filled with everything that makes me me. But it feels like a beautiful kingdom, and it’s not complete without you in it.”

You don’t have to say it; the way you hold his gaze with such a raw, pure sincerity and the way you asked him to be with you as if he’s the best person in the whole world are enough to let Minho know that he’s all forgiven.

Feeling a tug at his shirt, he meets your expectant eyes once again. “Are you going to continue staring at me like that until we fall asleep?”

The last traces his fear for disappointing you melts away as you start stroking his hair. “I love you,” he rasps, unconsciously leaning in until his lips brush over yours. “My precious moonlight, I’ll do my best so you won’t ever have to erase me again. I love you, Y/N, please don’t leave me.”

You barely manage to nod before Minho finally crashes his lips against yours, not giving you any chance to steal a breath as he lets his feelings overtake himself. He explores every part of your lips like a madman and you accept whatever he gives you, trying to keep up with his feverish kisses and letting him know that he doesn’t need to hold back.

The sudden urge to see you encourages him to pull away. Minho says nothing for a while, only looking into your eyes with silent adoration. Still breathless, you prop yourself up to reward him with a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, the sweet gesture causing Minho to attack you with a series of playful smooches.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask in between kisses, giggling when Minho switches your positions, you’re now lying on top of him.

“This?”

You pinch his cheek. “I gotta admit it feels kinda nice to hear you saying please so many times.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at your cheeky remark. “Is that so? Wait until you find out how much I like hearing you beg.”

“Minho!” you exclaim, dropping your head on his chest to hide your flushed cheeks. He wraps his arms around you, ready to make you even more flustered before accidentally locking eyes with his cats. You lift your head when you feel his body stills, following his gaze.

“Oh no,” you murmur. “The kids saw that, didn’t they?”

He smiles sheepishly at each of them, somehow feeling like he’s gotten caught by his parents. “This kind of thing happens when you love someone,” he attempts to joke. “So get used to it, okay kiddos?”

You nudge his chest with your chin. “God, you’re shameless.”

“They’re cats!”

“Then why are your ears so red?!”

Minho tuts. “That’s it. We need to do this more often so they’ll get used to it.”

As he silences you with another searing kiss, Minho almost malfunctions at how addicting and comforting it is to have you as his again. It’s impossible to fathom all of his feelings for you into words, yet he still hopes you’ll feel every single one of them.

And you do, because Minho is yours. Entirely yours.

“How did you pass your driving test? Did you bribe them or something?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to answer Seungmin’s accusation, eyes glued to the road.

“Watch it,” Minho warns monotonously while you’re gripping his hand, too scared to witness the younger trying to drive. Seungmin shrieks in horror when Hyunjin hits the break almost too late. He glares at the passenger seats where you and Minho are seated. “Hyung can you just take over? Or at least switch seats with me?”

“I can’t.” He points at you. “Y/N is scared as hell and I’m not gonna let you hold her hand.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath when several other cars pass him. “Give me a break! This is my first time driving at the highway,” he argues. “And I was supposed to borrow Chan hyung’s car! Driving your car makes it even ten times scarier!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my car?!” your boyfriend protests.

The three men continue talking over each other, causing you to roar, “SHUT UP!! Hwang Hyunjin, if you take your hands off the wheels you’re gonna die before you even scratch the car!”

Twenty painful minutes later, Hyunjin succeeds in parallel parking the car with the help of a very frustrated Seungmin. The two boys are heading to the orphanage right away, leaving you and Minho alone for your little date.

Minho opens the trunk, setting it up quickly before pulling you to sit beside him, handing you one of the toasts he packed this morning. “Whoa, the moony park is even more beautiful during the day,” you muse, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “Should we come here more often at this hour?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with me.”

Minho snorts at your cheesy answer, but you still sense his wary from the way he keeps glancing at you from time to time. “Is this about the erasure recording you found in my room yesterday? Is that why you took me here?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re still keeping it. I thought we agreed to destroy it,” he says, doing his best to conceal his uneasiness. You initially thought it was a great idea to forget it ever happened, but no, you’re not running away. You want to accept all the consequences of the decisions you have made, especially this one.

“We did, but then I realized I didn’t want to. I don’t want to erase anything anymore, Minho. I want to live life as it is. It’s a memento from the most important period of my life, and while it hurts, it’s a part of me.” You throw your arms around him, squeezing his body until he turns to you and return your hug. “It’s also a reminder that what we have is stronger than anything, don’t you think? I erased you and I still fell in love with you again. Like an idiot.”

Relief washes over you when Minho chuckles, carefree and amused. “You’re not an idiot,” he teases. “You just have an exceptional taste, and I’m way too irresistible. Let’s face it, you were already crazy for me even before I gave you my card.”

“No I wasn’t! I just thought you were attractive!”

“I am the hottest man alive.”

You sigh. “You’ll never let me live it down.”

“No,” he affirms. “Because you’re right. It’s time to stop trying to forget our past. I’ll never forget the fact that you’re calling me the hottest man alive, just like I’ll never forget how much I’ve hurt you. And how much I’ll always try to make it up to you.”

You laugh at his comparison. “I honestly can’t tell whether we’re having a serious conversation or just trolling each other.”

“It’s my talent, baby. Life is always fun with me.”

Although the park has become more crowded and your boyfriend is never big on PDA, you have no choice but giving him a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” you whisper. “Just love me.”

“Hmm.” His lips stretch into a loving smile, the one smile reserved for your eyes only. “That I do.”

Minho isn’t a prince charming who sweeps you off your feet. He is your wandering prince and you’re his moonlight, illuminating his gloomy world. You show him that he doesn’t have to wander for the rest of his life, that he can call you home and stay.

And Minho will always be with you, showering you with the love you deserve. He’ll be the one who fight the demons for you and with you, he’ll be the one who reminds you over and over again how strong and precious you are whenever you lose faith in yourself. Together, you are moonlit. Together, you are complete.

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silverarmedassassin · 3 years

Text

Clandestine Meetings - One

Actor!Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 2488 | Warnings: None

A/N: Listen, I know I said this would be posted in "about an hour," but I have no self-control and it must be posted NOW.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was having a bit of block. Thank you for reading and, if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!❤️ If you want to be tagged, please send me a message or enter your url here!

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

[ Previous | Masterlist | Next ]

It’s 10:30 by the time your boss stumbles into the office. Pepper Potts is usually the embodiment of poised and put together - sleek strawberry blonde hair either falling over her shoulders in beautiful waves or tied in a high ponytail; black pencil skirts and white blouses tucked neatly inside. But not today.

While the ponytail still sits high on her head, dark circles taint her usually smooth, pristine complexion. She’s fisting a to-go mug in one hand and her office mug in the other, already steaming with a fresh round of caffeine.

You hated days like these; mornings after Tony keeps her out late - either business or pleasure, you never know as you prefer not to pry into your bosses’ personal lives - were always interesting, to say the least. Pepper was never mean, and you were almost positive there wasn’t an unkind bone in her body. She was just off. And if she was off, it means you were off, resulting in your job being about one hundred times harder as you often had to play the roles of both assistant and editor.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” you finally greet as she sits down at her desk. She’s rummaging through her bag, growing more irritable as the seconds pass. She sighs before stopping to look up at you.

“Y/N, please. It’s been six months. Just call me Pepper.” You internally scoff at the insistence of being anything less than professional towards one of the smartest women you’ve ever encountered in your life, and she turns back to her treasure hunt. “Don’t tell me I left my laptop at home,” she whines to herself as she slumps down into her large executive chair.

You clear your throat as you shuffle forward, computer in hand. “You had me take down to IT to get your files backed up, remember?” you smile as you deposit the device on the cherry-oak desk.

Pepper returns the smile and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t understand how I functioned before you.” She slides the laptop across the desk and opens it. While she waits for the software to boot up, she starts her typical morning rapid-fire session. “Did I miss any calls before I came in?”

“No, it’s been pretty q-word this morning.” You vowed never to say “quiet” while in the office. It somehow always jinxed your days, resulting in everyone and their mother calling within twenty minutes.

“E-mails?”

“The chef you’ve been in contact with sent over his schedule for the next few months. It’s looking like the best time to meet is early next month if you want to get the feature done in time for the winter edition.” Pepper opens her mouth to fire another question, but you’re one step ahead of her. “I’ve already blocked out a date in your calendar and sent the invite to his team.”

A soft smile graces the woman’s face as she scribbles notes in her daybook. “And what does my schedule look like for today?”

You sort through the mental files that contain minute-to-minute information regarding your boss’s workday. “You’re pretty booked. You have that photoshop with James Barnes at noon, and after-”

“Shit,” Pepper mummers, cutting you off. Panic quickly settles into her features. “Why does Tony do this? Barnes is impossible to book for anything. I can’t miss this….”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” you practically screech as you fix your boss with a wild look. “This photoshoot has been on your schedule since before I even started. And the time you have set up with him next week doesn’t allow for a full interview, photoshoot, and get material for the short online feature.” You try not to let the panic come out in your voice, but this is precisely the kind of incident you were hired to prevent.

Pepper gently closes her laptop and sets her features in a serious look. “Listen, I think you’re doing a great job here, and you’ve grown so much within the few months you’ve been on the team.” You eye her suspiciously, wondering if this was your ‘you’re fired’ speech. If so, it was definitely coming out of left field. “Why don’t you take my place at the shoot today? If Tony hadn’t promised I’d be in attendance for this investor meeting today, I’d have you go to that instead. But,” the blonde sighs deeply before continuing, “Tony has no regard for anyone’s schedule, and this is an important meeting.”

Your stomach drops from the 44th floor you’re currently on down to ground level. You’d never been on a set before, let alone one with someone as big as James. Plus, you’d only been on a handful of mid-sized interviews. How did she expect you to do this by yourself?

“Pepper, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to try and tell me that you’re not ready and that you can’t possibly clear your schedule for the afternoon. But if I didn’t think you were capable of holding your own, you wouldn’t even be sitting here with ‘assistant editor’ in front of your name. You have the skillset; you just need to show that you can use it. I know you don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

You anxiously bite your lip, feelings of inadequacy and anxiousness filling your senses.

“I don’t even know this James guy…” you say, defeated.

“Well, the car doesn’t arrive for another,” she looks down at her phone, “forty-five minutes. You better get reading.”

“We really need to bring you into the twenty-first century,” Natasha, Bucky’s manager, says as the first notes of My Funny Valentine start dancing through today’s set.

Following the too-bright flash of the camera, Bucky blinks the starbursts out of his eyes and tries to set the redhead with as stern of a look as possible. “Don’t you dare diss Mr. Sinatra. He’s a classic. A legend!” He watches as a stylist runs up and begins fussing with his hair.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and goes back to scrolling through her phone. As much as she acts annoyed with him - and his insistence of having at least two dozen 40’s songs on every photoshoot playlist - he knew she wouldn’t trade him for the world. They had a long history pre-dating the entertainment industry, and she was damn good at her job. If it wasn’t for Nat, Bucky’s not sure his current agency would have even signed him.

As the stylist finishes up her poking and prodding, the photographer - who Bucky has already forgotten the name of - begins shouting out directions from behind the camera. Pose this way. Turn that way. Make it look like you want to be here. It takes everything in Bucky not to grimace - both at the consistent reconfiguring he has to do to his body and the loud rumble that echoes through his stomach. The shirtless pictures they were shooting today caused him - against his better judgment - to forgo breakfast and, with nothing but too-weak black coffee in his system, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little agitated.

“Just a few more shots, and then we can break for lunch,” he hears the man behind the camera shout before dragging the camera back up to his face.

Bucky contorts himself into a position that shows off the abs he’s worked incredibly hard to achieve and maintain and masks his face in the perfect moody smolder these magazines love so much. Three more pops of the shutter, some grumbling and direction by the photographer, and one more position change, and he’s finally free.

As he’s looking at the pictures and throwing a robe over his bare torso and boxer-clad bottom, Bucky’s attention is pulled from the camera’s tiny screen to the back of the spacious room by Natasha’s stern, Russian-lilted voice. The accent only came out when she was agitated, so the sound alone is often used as a warning sign to those closest to her to stay away.

“How did you even get up here? Is there no security in place? I swear-”

Bucky turns to find his manager - all five-foot-three inches of her - standing defensively in front of whomever she’s cornered by the elevator.

“As I said, I’m here in place of Ms. Potts.” Bucky perks up at the second voice; is almost positive he recognizes the sweet melody despite having only encountered it once several months before. “Here, look, I have my badge.”

Sure enough, as Bucky scurries over to the duo, he sees a familiar face anxiously looking at his manager. He might be terrible with names, but Bucky Barnes rarely forgets a face.

“Natasha, why do you insist on harassing every person who sets foot within a five-foot radius of me while on the job?” Bucky jokes as he approaches the women.

He watches as your attention shifts from the annoyed redhead to him; a look of shock and maybe a hint of mortification flashes across your face.

“I wasn’t harassing. This is a closed set, and randos from the street can’t just walk on up,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “And it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s...you. But you know what I mean!”

He does. After all, protecting his privacy and work is one of Bucky’s most significant concerns. That doesn't mean he isn’t going to tease Natasha any chance he gets. He playfully scoffs and turns his attention to you. “I see you got the job. I told you everything was going to work out.”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the way you anxiously tuck a non-existent stray hair behind your ear and bite your lip. “You were right. Mr. Stark isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Although,” you playfully roll your eyes, “he is a menace. He promised Pepper’s attendance at a meeting, so now you’re stuck with an inexperienced interviewer rather than the queen of journalism.”

“Bah!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Plus, you’re not the one half-naked in the situation. If anyone embarrasses themselves, it’ll be me.”

Natasha chortles at the comment, mumbling something the sounds a lot like, “ever the charmer,” before walking away. At the same time, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your gaze slowly skims down his cotton-clade body before snapping back up to his face.

“Come on. We just broke for lunch, and Stark spares no expense when it comes to the spreads.”

It’s well past six-thirty in the evening when you finally make it back to your building. Despite the exhaustion flowing through your veins and the grumble in your stomach reminding you every five minutes that you haven’t eaten since lunchtime, there’s a festive air to your being, a proverbial pep to your step that could only be the result of a successful first interview experience.

Yeah, you were a nervous wreck before and during the interview, but you walked away feeling amazing about yourself - and with three pages worth of phenomenal, touching, and personal quotes from the one and only Bucky Barnes.

You try to ignore the butterflies that erupt low in your belly at the thought of the blue-eyed god of a man. Despite having no other experience interviewing someone with as large of a celebrity as he, you’ve concluded that Bucky is an angel of an interviewee. He was polite, answered all of your questions, and flirted just a little. Or, at least that’s what you would call it if you were anyone but a lowly editorial assistant who still purchased from bargain bins because that’s all you could afford. In all reality, Bucky was a very smooth talker with the confidence to back it up. It explained the incomprehensible hype surrounding the man you had no idea was such a big deal less than twelve hours prior.

The rumble of your stomach pulls you back to reality as you unlock your apartment door. You push the thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind, settle for finishing unpacking the day for when you’re unwinding for bed. Right now, all you want to focus on is fo-

“Uh, hello!” your roommate Wanda screeches as you push open the door. The redhead is standing, arms crossed, in your entry, a look of disdain on her face. “When were you going to tell me, your best friend and roommate, who pays half the rent and utilities, mind you, that Bucky Barnes followed you on Instagram. James Bucky Barnes, Y/N!”

You freeze at the mention of the man who has taken up every inch of your mind since you left the shoot earlier that day. You deposit your keys onto the small table next to the door and try to act as nonchalant as possible. “What are you talking about, Wanda?”

Your roommate starts wagging her phone in front of your face before pulling it back so she can read off her screen. “Well, I follow these gossip blogs - just for fun, of course. I like to stay up-to-date with all the celebrity goings-on.” You fix Wanda with an unamused look as you pass by on the way to the kitchen. “And I was scrolling through, catching up on today’s gossip, and all of a sudden, I see a screenshot of your Instagram account!”

You freeze mid-reach for a saucepan and turn to look at her. “What?”

“Yea, see,” Wanda holds her phone out so you can see the screen. Low and behold, there your account is; questionably composed landscape shots of the city and poorly-lit food pics in all their glory. “It started to circulate this afternoon after someone saw he followed you! Why did he follow you?”

You slowly resume your task of reheating last night’s spaghetti as you answer her. “I...I don’t know? I met him at work this afternoon. He probably just followed me because of Stark.” You shrug despite the thrill that runs through your body.

You halfheartedly listen as Wanda blabs on about the crush she’s apparently had for years despite never having once mentioned it to you, too focused on running through the day’s events to care much about how she’s seen every single one of his films at least a dozen times.

Maybe he had been flirting with you? His manager did mention he flirts with anything with a heartbeat, so it was most likely just part of his personality. Or at least the role he played in public. You weren’t naive enough to think that who Bucky presented himself as to the media, fans, and others not in his inner circle was the real Bucky. After all, he was likely just trying to win you over so you’d write something good about him.

Still, you can’t help the giddy smile that creeps across your face as, when you finally lie down for the night, you open the Instagram app to find Bucky’s name and verified status among the several notifications awaiting you.

@redbarn1995 @juenenfeu

#bucky x reader #actor!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #actor au #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic

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hazelhalfpint · 3 years

Text

Closing the Distance

Surprise another Inu/Kag one shot because I have zero will-power lmao. I just can't stop myself they are so fun!

Based on a prompt you can find here

You can also read this one-shot on AO3 here

For @fawn-eyed-girl, the main inspo behind my return to writing.

Closing the Distance -

The city is quiet, the click of her small law firm office door almost seems out of place as she closed for the day. The normally busy streets of Akasaka had lulled to a quiet hum around her. Kagome sighed, glancing down at her phone. The time glared up at her, nearly 12:00AM. She made a noise in discontent, “Poor Buyo probably thinks I abandoned him this time.”

Her heeled suede boots clicked on the pavement hurriedly toward Akasaka station hoping to catch the last train to Meguro. She sighed in relief, stepping onto the train right before departure. Kagome let her body sway with the motions of the train, opting to close her eyes as she stood, fingers gripping one of the over-head handles. She felt grateful her ride was a short one, only taking her 15 minutes total trip time.

When the train pinged its arrival to Meguro, Kagome smiled stepping onto the concrete platform. She waved to the train staff, a younger man who usually worked the evening train route in Meguro.

“See you tomorrow, Hojo-kun.”

He smiled in return, waving cheerfully, “Have a good night, Higurashi-san!”

Kagome tightened her scarf, once again glancing at her phone as she walked the distance from Meguro station to her apartment building. She scrolled through her notifications, pursing her lips as she read them aloud. “Email, email, another email,” she rolled her eyes but kept scrolling,” text from Sango, (2) missed calls from Kaa-chan, two new Instagram likes.” She let out a loud whine; not a single message from the one person she had been hoping to hear from.

Kagome opened a message thread, the name ‘Inu’ glowing at the top with a red heart emoji. She typed a message as she continued her path, just like she had done the last three nights. She knew he was outside the reach of cell service, somewhere in the mountains of Washington, USA, attending a business conference with his father.

<New Message to: Inu ♥

I miss your voice. ☹ I hope your trip is going well; call me when you can! ♥>

She clicked send, tucking her phone into her jacket pocket. She wasn’t trying to be clingy, truly, but her and Inuyasha had spoken nearly every day for almost a year and a half. Kagome smiled fondly at how their relationship had started, “Hah!” She snorted out a laugh, ‘if you could even call it a ‘relationship’ at first.’

They’d met in an online anime forum, both looking for recommendations to fill their generally boring day to day routines. She’d recommended Bleach, one of her all-time favorites, and Inuyasha had roasted her alive in the comments about the length of the series. She’d retaliated hard though, noting that in his bio he had One-Piece listed as top favorite, and that if he were going to be a hypocrite to at least try to hide it. They bickered incessantly in the forum comments, and eventually moved to private chat, the conversation taking on a more playful tone as time went on.

After that they had pinballed anime suggestions back and forth, building a repertoire of anime they both could enjoy, either together via Zoom or separately. It wasn’t long until their conversations turned more heated, and affectionate. She’d learned what he liked and didn’t like (curry being at the top of that list alongside Bleach) and that unfortunately for their budding relationship they lived on opposite sides of the world. He worked for his fathers growing tech corporation as head of marketing, and Kagome worked full time at a law-firm as a child advocate lawyer.

She had also learned that like her, Inuyasha had grown up in Japan, in a prefecture close to where she had grown up. He’d only moved to New York with his father after high school to get a head start working for the family company, and now he was in Washington laying groundwork for the company’s’ north-western sect. She blushed remembering a previous conversation they’d had six months into talking, and four months into dating.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back to Japan?”

It wasn’t meant to be a loaded question, they hadn’t known each other for long, but Kagome couldn’t stop herself from chewing on her lip nervously. She drew in her knees, letting them tuck underneath her on the couch.

She could hear him chuckle into the phone, “Do you want me to come back to Japan?” Kagome felt her cheeks tinging pink.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” She defended, “I mean of course I wouldn’t mind seeing you but…” She continued to babble on when he interrupted her.

“I would come back for you.” The words were quick and effective, going straight to the butterflies in her stomach, her heart rate increasing.

“You would?”

“In a heartbeat.” He offered the words to her like they were second nature.

“Inuyasha?” She smiled into the phone, waiting for his response.

“Hm?” he hummed a response, followed by a yawn.

“I really, really like you.” She could picture him smiling now, “I really like you too.”

They both had busy lives, but the part she loved most was that even in the mundanity of their daily lives they still managed to find time for each other. Except for the last three days.

“Keep it together, Kagome. It’s only been three days. He has no cell service,” she reminded herself fishing in her pocket for keys as she approached her unit.

Kagome pulled out the apartment keys, flipping through them easily to the correct one. The door opened with a click, and she shuffled into the genkan. She dropped her small purse onto the entryway table calling out into the dark as she always did, an inside joke to herself.

“Honey, I’m home!” She flipped on the entrance light and slid out of her jacket, chuckling, “Oh yeah that’s right...I live alone.” Well, not exactly, she did have Buyo after all. The fat cat normally came running as soon as she called out her inside joke, making it even more hilarious to Kagome. Buyo her fat sort-of roommate cat.

Her body stilled when this time instead of the mewling of her cat, a male voice called back out to her from the kitchen, “Oh good, you made it home,” the voice purred.

” I picked up some pizza,” the entry way to the kitchen was dimly lit, but Kagome didn’t need the lights on to know who was standing in her doorway holding a pizza box. A tall figure with silver hair swept into a bun, golden eyes gleaming with amusement and an undeniably familiar voice. One that she’d been hearing the last year and a half.

Kagome kicked off her boots in the genkan, launching herself across the apartment. Her arms locked around the figure’s waist, “Inuyasha!” She cried out his name, tears mercilessly streaming down her face as she hugged him tighter.

Inuyasha dropped the box of pizza onto the closest counter, tucking the crying woman into his arms more securely. He dropped his lips to her hair, placing a tender kiss to the top of her head. He was committing her scent to memory, lavender and soft vanilla. He inhaled deeply, letting out a content sigh.

“What are you doing here? How did you find my apartment? What about Washington?” Kagome managed to croak out the questions through tears. His fingers moved to tilt her face up to him, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He smiled a lopsided fanged grin, “I told you I’d come back to Japan for you.”

He said it with ease, like it was the most logical thing in the world. Kagome couldn’t stop herself as she pressed onto the tips of her toes to reach him. Her lips found his, and she pulled him closer, afraid he may vanish if she let go. He didn’t resist but instead melted into her touch, cradling the small of her back with his hands. After a few moments, Kagome released him with a pant, her chest heaving as he braced them against the closest kitchen wall.

Inuyasha dropped kisses onto her exposed shoulder, and Kagome stopped him with small hands fisted into his shirt. She had to tell him.

“I love you.” She blurted out the three words, cheeks flushed from their heated encounter and her confession. They had danced around the subject, but she’d known for a while. Kagome loved Inuyasha. She chewed on her lip, pulling it between her teeth but was stopped when he lowered to pull at her lip himself, sucking it against his mouth, and kissing her again sweetly.

“I love you too,” he said softly, cupping her face with his hand, “even if you like bleach.” Kagome let out a loud laugh at that, shoving his shoulder but then pulling him back for another kiss, just one of many more that would come now that she was truly home.

#inuyasha #oneshot #fluff #chat #90s anime #romance #inu/kag #inukag #writing #writing prompt

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

Text

Fateful Friends

The surprise part 2 of my Steggy Secret Santa gift for the very cool @sagesiren/@theeleganteuropeanwoman - a Peggy POV modern AU avec Bucky and Angie because they wouldn’t allow me to fit them in last time. A somewhat belated Chanukah gift for you - or I guess a very early one for next year?

Summary: An afternoon of helping out Angie leads Peggy to a chance encounter.

Read on AO3

“Carter,” Angie says, tapping a finger against her wrist even though she isn’t wearing a watch. “I love you, and it’s because I love you that I don’t mind telling you that you’re a big liar. You promised 11:30.”

Peggy sighs but saves the document she had been working on. Angie is right. Peggy had said they would leave at 11:30 and it’s already 12:15.

“We can stop at the bakery on the way,” Peggy offers, swiveling her chair around to reach for her purse and coat. “My treat to make up for delaying us.”

“Perfect,” Angie says brightly. She’s a bit flushed: she had refused to remove her parka since she got here nearly an hour ago as a pointed reminder that Peggy had promised only five more minutes, though she had unzipped it after about a quarter of an hour, and she’s also wearing a beret she keeps adjusting even as she insists that it makes her outfit. Still, she hops to her feet readily, hooking her arm with Peggy’s. “And this won’t be a drag, I swear. Just a girl’s day out, the two of us on the town, cleaning out my dead grandmom’s place.” She considers as they stop in the doorway to let Peggy flip off her office lights. “Okay, maybe we’d better get extra of the lemon pound cake to keep things fun.”

Peggy sighs. “Lead the way.”

There had been a bit of extortion involved in the whole business. Six months ago, Peggy had agreed to allow Angie to start setting her up. But after multiple mediocre dates (and one which ended in a well-deserved black eye for the man in question) she had begged off and refused to be convinced otherwise, even when Angie complained that this would ruin her credibility as a romance columnist and swore over and over that she had actually found the absolute perfect guy this time, the one Peggy would truly regret not meeting.

It isn’t that Peggy doesn’t want a relationship. She isn’t being too picky, and she hasn’t decided that her career should be her focus just now. But planning, the precise thing which has served her well her entire life in so many areas, seems to have failed her now. Online dating, singles mixers, allowing herself to be set up by friends, all the tried and tested strategies - nothing has led her to anyone she would even consider as a lifetime companion, and just this once, she has decided that she will leave things up to chance.

Standing firm on the dating question, however, apparently meant that Peggy was required to join Angie whenever requested and to do whatever favors she required in exchange for reneging on their original agreement.

In the end, though, spending a Saturday with her best friend is always enjoyable, even if they’re sorting the belongings of a recently deceased ninety-eight year old woman who Angie refers to as “the old bat.” They try to one up each other for the oddest item found in their cleaning, and eat their way through altogether too many pastries. As they trade off picking playlists, Angie even provokes Peggy’s competitive spirit enough that they both end up showing off their dance moves.

After eight hours of work, Angie decides that they have done enough for one day, even though they’re nowhere close to finished.

“Sixty years of crap isn’t going to shift itself in one try,” she shrugs cheerfully, searching within one of the scattered “keep” boxes for her other glove. “And I was forced to do all this out of oldest granddaughter sexism. I’ll come back next week and make my cousins help.”

Peggy laughs, retrieving the missing glove from beneath the once-fancy living room settee. The two of them gather the rest of their belongings, making certain the lights are turned out before they weave around the boxes to get to the front door.

On the threshold, Angie digs for the keys to lock up the brownstone, a beautiful Brooklyn property which her family couldn’t have bought with the help of a fairy godmother if they had wanted to try today. Peggy breathes in the sharp cold of the night air, turns to comment on it to her friend, then spins immediately back around as a snowball whizzes past her ear and explodes on the façade of the house just beside her.

A man’s voice from somewhere out on the darkened street shouts, “Bucky, what the—” Cutting himself off before actually verbalizing whatever curse he clearly wants to, the man changes tone, calling, “Peppermint hot chocolate for anyone who hits Bucky in the next five minutes.”

In the next second, the street comes so alive with childish chatter that Peggy can’t believe she didn’t notice the apparent army of little ones nearby. Over their whoops and cries, another man yells, “Not my fault that your shot went out of bounds. I just ducked - self preservation instincts, Rogers, if you’ve ever heard of them.”

Squinting into the dim streetlight, Peggy pinpoints where the second man’s voice is coming from, just as the thickly swaddled shape of him is tackled by several smaller forms and pelted with snow from all sides. Another shadow breaks away from the place on the street where last night’s half foot of snow has turned into haphazard forts on either side of a snowy battlefield, jogging toward where Peggy and Angie still stand on the steps.

“I’m sorry about the snowball attack there,” he apologizes as soon as he’s close enough. “We don’t usually drag strangers into our fights, or at least not before we’ve learned their names.”

Peggy hasn't been in a snowball fight since she was twelve - well, fourteen, if she’s being honest - declaring war on her brother Michael back at their house in Hampstead when they were both home from school for the term holiday. Perhaps she's been a bit infected by the lively afternoon or the stress of the past several weeks is finally catching up to her, but she finds herself turning and saying to a man she has never before met, "My name is Peggy Carter, and I'd be delighted to be recruited if there's room for one more, considering that hostilities have already been accidentally declared."

Apparently he didn’t expect a response like this, a strange woman deciding to take a chance. His eyes widen, but only for a moment before he says, "Well, sure, there's plenty of snow."

Glancing back at Angie, Peggy tells her, "There's no need to wait for me while I indulge myself in a bit of winter warfare, of course. Go off home and put your feet up."

But Angie instead looks delighted in a way that's almost outsized for her best friend taking her recommendation to relax a bit. "Oh, I'd never miss this," she says. "I'll just watch our things and spectate from over here." And she unhooks Peggy's purse from her shoulder and shoos her off toward the battlefield.

"Steve," the man says as they set off up the street together. "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. By the way."

"Lovely to meet you," she says politely.

She isn't particularly prepared for this sort of activity - her boots are fairly practical for walking from apartment to subway stop to office though clearly are not meant to do much heavier lifting - but she ventures that it can be forgiven considering how spur of the moment the entire thing has been. However, Steve is not, Peggy notices, exactly dressed for the weather either. It’s a bit too cold for a waist length peacoat, thin gloves, and a loosely hanging scarf, and he seems to have half soaked through everything. When they pass under a streetlight, she looks up toward him and observes that his cheeks are flushed red, though it actually suits him quite well, making the blue of his eyes shine.

"Were you pulled into this under similar circumstances?" she asks.

He laughs a little shyly. "No, Bucky—My friend, Bucky - you'll meet him in a minute—Anyway, his mother invited a bunch of their family over for the afternoon, and between all the cousins there are a dozen kids running around these days. We just volunteered to keep them occupied."

She wants to ask exactly where he fits into the structure of his friend’s family, but they are nearing the place where the children are still shouting and pelting Steve's friend.

"I've brought someone else to even out the teams," Steve calls, and the kids leave off, coming to surround the newcomer instead.

After introductions have been made - Steve's friend Bucky gives Peggy a look which is strangely appraising but completely without objectification - Peggy is informed of the rules (no faces, no sand or rocks mixed with your projectiles, ten seconds of reprieve after you've ducked behind the walls of your team's fort) and assigned a team (Steve's, which sends a thrill running through her which she doesn't care to examine, settling for a decisive head nod and a small smile in his direction).

She had forgotten, in the years since she had last participated in a snowball fight, exactly how exhilarating it could be. Her careful plans for methodical stockpiling and adherence to ideal technique are soon thrown out the window in her haste to simply get the next missile prepared and launched at the opposition. As she and a small girl named Iris fling nearly loose snow at the other side of the street, she finds herself laughing more freely than she has in ages. At one point, she and Steve end up huddled against the wall of the fort next to each other.

"Your hands must be freezing," he comments, and when she looks down in surprise at her red fingers, she realizes that he is right. He strips off his sodden gloves and wraps his hands around hers, trying to press some heat back into them. It’s futile, considering that his hands, while larger, aren’t any warmer, but she doesn’t stop him. When he tries to pass his gloves over to her, however, she declines with a smile.

"Oh, I could never allow anything to interfere with my process."

"Right." He unwraps his scarf instead, offering it to her. "Maybe this way at least some of you will be warm, and you won’t lose your edge either."

She won't swear that it's feeling the wool still toasty from his neck which allows her to jump back into the fray with renewed vigor, but she certainly wouldn't swear otherwise.

Her watch and phone are buried within her coat, but it cannot be much later when the door to what Peggy guesses is Bucky's mother's house opens and a group of people starts to stream out, each member gravitating over to collect particular children. Peggy stands at the sidelines as Steve and Bucky are kissed on the cheeks and thanked for their babysitting efforts. Angie ambles over just as the last of the kids, little Iris, is taken off with a wave of her cheerfully red mitten.

“Enjoy yourself, English?” she calls, grinning as she picks her way down the sidewalk around the disarranged clumps of snow. “Haven’t seen you have this much fun in ages, although it’s also reminding me why I’m never playing laser tag with you again.”

“My skill doesn’t only apply to snow. I’m a bit of a laser markswoman,” Peggy tells Steve who has returned to her side, apparently having finished being showered with familial affection by Bucky’s relatives.

“Laser sharpshooter,” Angie corrects. “Laser sniper. Laser no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners—”

“Angie?”

Bucky has joined them, looking at Angie with surprise which turns quickly into a smile and a hug.

“Bucky Barnes!” Angie says after they’ve broken away. She’s still framing him with a hand on each arm but she lets go to give him a friendly whack on the shoulder. “I should have known there couldn’t be that many Buckys in Brooklyn.” Stepping back so she can face Steve and Peggy fully, she says, “Bucky and I are...I mean, Bucky’s mom and my mom are...Well, we’re...We must be—” She glances up, clearly trying to mentally map out a family tree.

“We’re cousins, somehow,” Bucky fills in smoothly. “Just like me and half the neighborhood.”

It occurs to Peggy that the situation might be awkward - they had just seen a number of Bucky’s relations leaving a gathering to which Angie clearly hasn’t been invited - but Bucky says, without apparent unease, “I guess you’re in the area to clean out your grandma’s place?” and then adds as an afterthought, “God rest her.”

Angie rolls her eyes, though not, Peggy suspects, at Bucky’s insincere tone. “My mother kept making noises that Jersey was too far to come for just the day and couldn’t I just take care of it, so I finally gave in.” She loops her arm through Peggy’s. “Carter here has been the perfect assistant - without her, I’d have either tried to keep everything or just backed the garbage truck up to the front door and set up a funnel.”

“You’d never - you might miss out on some heirloom to hold over everyone’s heads,” Peggy says with an affectionate elbow to Angie’s side. “And I certainly had my fill of fun sorting through objects from decades gone by, along with that snowball battling which capped things off perfectly. But I think it might be time that I started making my way home.” She truly has had a wonderful afternoon, the sort which will live fondly in her memory (including the feeling of Steve’s hands wrapped with such gentle and precise strength around hers), but the idea of a steaming bath and freshly laundered pajamas sounds absolutely heavenly at the moment.

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He extends a hand. “Well, it was nice to—”

“No,” says Bucky, shaking his head, and “No!” Angie adds with hasty vehemence.

“I’m sorry?” Peggy angles herself to try to see Angie’s face, but it’s Bucky who answers.

“You’re soaking wet, and I’m guessing that you don’t live on the next block. My mother would kill me if she found out I didn’t at least give you something dry to get home in.”

“It’s a lovely offer—” Peggy starts to demur, although she is now noticing that she’s quite chilly and it is going to be a bit of a slog home. Before she can get any farther, however, the door to Bucky’s family home opens up and a woman stands silhouetted in the spilling light.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I hope that you weren’t thinking of leaving these two young ladies out here in the cold without inviting them in to warm up.” She walks carefully down the steps, arms crossed over her chest, but she throws them open as she spots who is standing there. “Angie Martinelli, is that you? Wonderful to see you, sweetheart, come here!”

Angie releases Peggy to submit to a hug and a rapid-fire back and forth of greeting. Peggy suspects that their chances of making a smooth escape have just decreased rather dramatically.

“I’ve known Mrs. Barnes all my life,” Steve says quietly from over Peggy’s shoulder. “She’s never going to let you get away with leaving before you at least have on dry socks. And anyway, I promised hot chocolate to whoever managed to hit Bucky, and I definitely saw you paste him at least once.”

She smiles despite herself. “I believe it was peppermint hot chocolate which was promised.”

He laughs as their eyes meet, though his flick downward just after, a new flush filtering through his cheeks that she suspects has nothing to do with the cold.

“And who do we have here?” Mrs. Barnes asks, clearly finished cooing over Angie.

Peggy turns, smile still on her face. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Barnes. I’m Peggy Carter.”

“Get out of here while you can,” Bucky whispers fifteen minutes later, and Angie nods, telling Peggy, “If I ever need you to take a bullet for me, I expect you to remember this moment.”

“Why on earth would we be standing beside each other with bullets flying?” Peggy asks, eyebrow gracefully arched.

Before either of the others can reply, however, Steve takes Peggy’s hand from behind and tugs her away, whispering, “They’re not wrong,” as Mrs. Barnes returns with arms stacked with twenty-year-old photo albums.

“I promised Peggy something hot to drink,” he tells Mrs. Barnes more loudly. She waves them off, probably half from good hostess instincts and half eagerness to force the remaining two into a walk down memory lane.

It doesn’t escape Peggy’s notice that Steve doesn’t relinquish her hand until they’re safely in the kitchen, although it’s quite apparent where it is. She can’t say that she minds, however. With neither of them wet and frozen any longer, it’s much easier to appreciate the gentle solidity of his fingers, the press of their palms against each other.

Too soon for her to have cataloged the sensation entirely, Steve lets her go and starts moving around to the pantry and cupboards. Peggy stands watching him, curling her toes against the floor in the borrowed socks she is now wearing along with an absolutely divinely plush gray cardigan loaned to her by Mrs. Barnes. The lady of the house had insisted on adding the wettest items to the dryer - “As if I would let you back out into the street like that to freeze. My mother would come back and haunt me!” - which had included Peggy’s blouse and coat, though luckily not her singlet or her jeans (damp, but dark enough to have avoided scrutiny, so Peggy hadn’t needed to strategize a polite objection to wearing someone else’s trousers).

“I hesitate to offer considering my skills in this area, but can I do anything to help?” she finally asks.

Steve shakes his head as he sets a saucepan on the stove. “This is about the only thing I can make, but I can do it with my eyes closed.” He gestures her over to a seat, which she takes.

“Why was peppermint hot chocolate the one recipe you ever learned?” she wonders as he lights a burner and adds together milk, cocoa powder, chocolate chips, and a bit of sugar.

“I learned plenty,” he says, angling himself to see her and stir at the same time. “This was just the only one that stuck. My mom worked a lot, and plenty of night shifts. It was just the two of us, so I wanted to make sure she would come home to something warm and good after all of that. She passed a while back, but I still make it for Bucky’s family when I’m around - they’ve always been great to me.”

“Ah,” Peggy says, trying to sound normal and satisfied with his answer instead of a bit overcome by his factual sweetness, the way he seems completely unresentful of the multitude of Barnes relatives while he apparently has no family left. She clears her throat. “And what is it you do, other than distribute homemade hot beverages?”

He flashes a bit of a smile at her, tucking his hands into the pocket of the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Bucky’s old bedroom upstairs. His hair is adorably mussed from pulling it over his head, and Peggy can’t quite tear her eyes away.

“I run the art program over at the community center,” he says, turning to add a few drops of something to the chocolate mixture. From the scent which suffuses the air, Peggy guesses that it’s peppermint flavoring. “Afternoon classes, activities with the schools, workshops. My under-twelve group just put up a display at the local library if you want to go visit.” He sounds absurdly proud.

“How wonderful.” The words come out even more softly than she had thought they would. She tries to pull herself together with the crispness of tapping straight a stack of papers, but doesn’t quite manage it. The soft smile won’t leave her face and she wonders if it might be a permanent fixture now. Oh, they’ll certainly go their separate ways shortly, but she feels that there was some amount of luck involved in her having had the chance to meet him in the first place.

Blinking a little, he turns away and unwraps a few of the peppermint candies Mrs. Barnes has set out in a dish on the counter. “What do you do?” he asks, crushing the candies with the handle of a knife.

Feeling her smile fade a bit into something more businesslike, less touched by gentle joy, Peggy says, “I’m the policy director for a non-profit.” It’s her standard response, the beginning of a slow wade into the more detailed answer. It is also, she has to admit, the beginning of a test, one which nearly all the potential partners Angie had tried to set her up with ended up failing.

“Which one?” Steve asks, gliding unknowingly through the first level of scrutiny as he scrapes the crushed peppermints into a palm and deposits them into the pot, beginning to stir again. (Peggy still sometimes finds herself surprised at how many people are so eager to turn the topic back to themselves that they accept the most simplistic answer and move along.)

“The INRJ,” Peggy says. It seems that she’s holding her breath just a bit as she gives her usual pause. She finds that she does not want Steve to make a misstep in this. She thinks she might forgive him if he did.

“The International Network for Reproductive Justice, right?” The way he gives her a look, double checking, deferring to her knowledge: if there were truly points, he would have earned himself a bonus just then. “Back when it was the International Pro-Choice Network, my mom used to bring me along to play under the table while she was stuffing envelopes or phone banking.” He tilts his head to the side and adds, “Bucky actually reminded me of that a few weeks ago - he saw an ad for the symposium you were holding and thought I should check it out.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, using the reminder of work to shore herself up a bit from melting. “I was meant to speak about the effects of the global gag rule, but I ended up sitting on the tarmac at Heathrow instead.”

He makes a commiserating face. “They did say that the talk about adoption and foster care in eastern European countries was a last minute replacement, although the speaker was really good. I hadn’t realized that was supposed to be your spot. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to speak; I would have liked to hear what you had to say.”

“Yes,” she says, slightly dazedly, the word nearly lost in the sound as he snaps off the burner. “Natasha is quite talented. She always gives a good presentation.”

“The community health initiatives to reduce parent and child mortality in Sierra Leone sounded like amazing stuff too.” He’s still talking as he reaches into a cabinet for a pair of mugs, apparently not noticing her reaction. “I ended up donating to the hospital building fund after I got home.”

She’s told dozens of men over the years what she does for her job, and the responses have run the gamut from indifference to confusion to polite questions, from furious rants about the sanctity of life to pompous assurances of allyship. This is the first time she’s heard one of them discuss her organization’s projects with true interest, the first time everything seems to have been said genuinely and unprompted and without the aim of impressing her.

Which is why it does all the more.

“I was glad Bucky suggested it,” Steve tells her, setting her mug in front of her. He takes a seat across from her, his own mug in hand. “He’s been trying to get me to go to all of these random places lately, and the symposium was one of the more interesting.”

“I’ve actually been experiencing the same thing with Angie,” Peggy says, seizing on the topic as a way to keep her equilibrium. “In the last month she’s taken me to a wine and cheese tasting, a Broadway play, and an art showing at the Sage Gallery, which I actually think I would have enjoyed if I hadn’t needed to spend most of it in the stairwell on a conference call.”

Steve, who had been about to take a sip from his mug, lowers it back to the table. With care, he says, “Bucky tried to get me to go to a wine and cheese night but I had to fill in running a watercolors class at the senior center. We went to a Broadway play but ended up switching seats with mom and little kid so they could be on the aisle.” Voice dropping a bit, he adds, “And I had a showing of some paintings at the Sage Gallery three weeks ago.”

They glance in unison toward the living room, as if they might establish some facts by merely turning in the direction of their friends, but all they hear is the low sound of chatter and laughter.

“Angie has arranged so many dreadful dates for me in the past,” Peggy says, leaning over the table to speak to him quietly. “I told her she wasn’t allowed anymore.”

Steve nods. “When Buck sets me up, they always think I’m going to be just like him, and it’s awful to see their faces when they realize I’m not. I just wanted a break from having to sit through dinner with someone who was disappointed that it was me there.”

The mug is hot against her palms, and she finds herself taking in deep breaths of peppermint-scented steam. “One of these days, he’s certain to find you someone who isn’t an utter bloody fool, then,” she says, and though she truly means the words, they come out soft instead of sharp, an outstretched hand.

“I sort of think,” Steve says, tipping his chin up so his eyes catch the light even as they lock with hers. “I sort of think that he’s been trying.”

Later that night, once she’s tucked away in bed, she thinks about fate and design, the overlap between them, and decides that it doesn’t matter how the moment comes to be if she doesn’t do anything with it. She takes a deep breath and texts him: Your hot chocolate was quite good. Perhaps we could meet sometime so you can show me how to properly prepare it?

Not even a minute later, he responds: I think we can come to an arrangement.

Angie only gloats a little when she hears that a hot chocolate making lesson and a week of texting has led to the arrangement of an actual date. Bucky is not as gracious. Peggy can’t quite bring herself to care, and by the undeniable flicker of Steve’s smile, she suspects he feels the same.

#steggysecretsanta #Steggy fic #Peggy Carter #Steve Rogers #sagesiren

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bijvoorbeeldja · 5 years

Text

HERE SHE IS

The full enemies-to-lovers, “You’ve Got Mail” Sobbe AU, sprinkled with a few little surprises ***

I was NOT playin around when I said I was going to write ALL the fics during this quarantine y’all ain’t ready

Hope you enjoy! <3 I’d love to know what you think (even if you hate it)

……

Robbe’s phone buzzed on his nightstand.

earthlingoddity: good morning

He smiled into the screen, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

sterkerdanijzer: already awake?

earthlingoddity: yep

earthlingoddity: had some early morning inspiration

sterkerdanijzer: r u gonna let me see what you drew this time?

earthlingoddity: nope

earthlingoddity: against the rules

Robbe sighed, shaking his head.

Rolling out of bed, he contemplated what to type in response. This back-and-forth had been going on for months now, always coming back to this: the rules.

Clearly, they could text all they wanted. But that was it: just text. No voices, no photos showing their faces, locations, or anything else personal. Like drawings, for example. Nothing personal.

But really, everything they had been doing, all they had been talking about, felt personal to Robbe.

Screw the rules, Robbe thought. Even just through texts, he’d gotten closer to this person than anyone else in his life. Their conversations often started at dawn and spread throughout the day, lingering into the night until one of them fell asleep.

Of course, he’d agreed to the rules at the beginning. Hell, he’d made them. It was just talking, nothing else. But the more they talked, the more he wanted.

….

In a weird turn of events, Robbe had met Earthling in the comments of an Antwerp street art Tumblr, where teenagers flocked to share and comment on their latest masterpieces. Masked by alias handles, no one involved in the group knew the identities of the others. When they met up to tag at a location, everyone wore masks, hoodies, and dark clothes. Then they rehashed their work online, sharing photos and comments before planning their next meetup.

Robbe, using his disguised handle, had commented on a photo, when a stranger named earthlingoddity had commented back. Robbe had laughed and responded. The two passed banter back and forth before finally moving to DMs.

earthlingoddity: so you’re an artist, then the stranger had written him.

sterkerdanijzer: no, definitely not

sterkerdanijzer: I’m just in it for the vandalism

earthlingoddity: Hahahaha fair enough

earthlingoddity: u live in antwerp tho right?

sterkerdanijzer: pretty sure we’re not supposed to share details, STRANGER

earthlingoddity: ;-)

earthlingoddity: youre right. but i mean, we are talking now. and we’ve probably already seen each other

sterkerdanijzer: yeah maybe

earthlingoddity: I probably would have recognized a vandal tho…

sterkerdanijzer: not a chance. you’re probably one of those uppity art hoes who makes his masterpiece and doesn’t even acknowledge the little people

earthlingoddity: so you’re short then

sterkerdanijzer: enough! no personal details

Earthlingoddity: ok, so no names, no locations, no personal details. Any other rules?

sterkerdanijzer: uhm

sterkerdanijzer: no phone calls. And NO pics of your artwork. I might recognize it

Earthlingoddity: so definitely no dick pics, then

Robbe had nearly choked at this. Even though their chatting had started as nearly nothing, it had rapidly become...something. At least for Robbe. The past few weeks, their conversations had grown from occasional back-and-forths to constant communication, nearly-endless banter, and then...not-so-subtle flirting. Whatever was going on with this stranger, Robbe couldn’t bear to lose it.

…..

Once he was finally ready for school that day, Robbe grabbed his skateboard and headed out to the street. Before mounting his board on the sidewalk, he opened his last chat with Earthling, trying to muster the courage to send him the message he’d been wanting to for days.

sterkerdanijzer: what if we said screw the rules….and met up? Like IRL?

Robbe’s fingers hovered over the keys, trying to gather the courage to hit send. It was stupid, he knew, but he was so terrified of scaring this stranger away. For reasons he didn’t fully understand yet, he needed him. Assuming it was, in fact, a him. I guess it was bold of him to assume Earthling was a boy. And gay. He took a breath and kicked off, starting to roll down the street.

Then, out of nowhere, he was crashing, thrust back off his board and onto the ground as he collided with something. Or better, someone.

Ugh, he groaned. Slowly rising up, he grabbed his phone and bag, which had been expelled violently from the impact.

“What the hell, Robin?” the boy said, picking himself back up off the sidewalk where he’d fallen. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?! Do you even know how to ride that thing?”

Brushing the dirt off his hands, he looked up, already feeling stiff aches form in his joints from the fall. Looking up, he groaned again.

Of course, it was Sander Driesen. He should have known immediately. No one else had the nerve to call him Robin.

Robbe rolled his eyes. “Maybe you shouldn’t be meandering in the middle of the sidewalk,” he threw back. “Pick a side and stay out of the way of people who actually need to get somewhere.”

Sander scoffed, dusting himself off and grabbing his bag, rearranging the now-disorderly contents inside. “Right, I forgot. You’ll be late for class,” he said, the words dripping with disdain. “Ahh, to be young and only concerned with high school drama.”

Oh, how Robbe hated Sander Driesen.

Clad head-to-toe in black, with a noisy leather jacket, combat boots and a shock of (badly) bleached-blonde hair, he was a walking cliche.

The two had grown up together, coexisting side by side in school and social circles. But the two could not be more different. Because of this, their relationship didn’t amount to much more than swapped insults in passing, tense confrontations, and merciless teasing. Now that Sander had graduated high school, their interactions were fewer. But for Robbe, that was still too often.

“So tell me, O Wise One,” Robbe shot back. “If you’re so above all of us children, why are you still dating Britt? She’s not too ‘high school drama’ for you?”

Sander grimaced. “I’m not with Britt,” he said, almost clenching his teeth.

“Right, whatever,” Robbe said, ready for this encounter to be way past over. “I don’t give a damn about your personal life. In fact, I don’t give a damn about anything involving you. I have to go.”

He turned to leave, realizing he skateboard was still on the ground, rolled out of his reach, an end tucked under the heel of Sander’s boot. He smirked at Robbe.

“Oh, right. Your toy.” Sander rolled it back to Robbe, staring him down with an obnoxious smile. “See you around...Robin.”

Robbe grabbed his board and walked off in a huff, flipping Sander off as he passed. “Screw you, Sander.”

Rounding the corner, he stopped to steady his breathing. Why must his day be tainted with the influence of that fake blonde, edgy wannabe pyscho? Inhaling deep and taking advantage of his high tide of emotions, he pulled out his phone again, returning to his chat with Earthling. Do it, he told himself. Do it before you lose your nerve. Typing fast, he wrote:

Sterkerdanijzer: what if we said screw the rules….and met up? Like IRL?

He hit Send, waiting breathlessly.

Within seconds, three dots appeared. Earthling was typing.

……

The music was blaring, thumping against Robbe’s heartbeat. The crowd at the party was so thick that he was pressed up against Jens and Aaron, their combined heat making him slightly nauseous.

But all he could focus on was the neon glow of the screen in front of him, and in his mind running over and over the words Earthling had texted him hours earlier: Earthlingoddity: probably not a good idea.

Robbe had stared at it again and again, feeling that same nosedive in his stomach as he had when he first got it that morning on the street. He didn’t want to meet Robbe. So all of it had been...nothing after all. Deep down he’d known that. It was just talking. But it still felt like rejection. How could he so intensely have misread their connection? Even virtually, Robbe had felt the magnitude of it. Or so he’d thought.

All of this considered, he hadn’t been a very good wingman for his friends tonight. They’d dragged him to this party at Noor’s, scanning the room intently, looking for girls to pursue. Robbe just stood by, slumped and sipping lukewarm beer that just made his stomach turn.

Earthlingoddity: probably not a good idea he read again. Ugh. He was going to be torturing himself all night.

“Dude,” Jens elbowed him suddenly, or maybe just shifted, their proximity making it impossible to tell. “Dude, ten o’clock. That guy is totally checking you out.”

Robbe scoffed, not even bothering to look up. Gay guys at this party? He doubted it.

“Seriously, Robbe,” Jens pushed again. “He’s definitely staring. And he’s actually pretty hot.”

“Yep, totally,” Aaron agreed, nodding as he took a swig of his beer. “Definitely your type.”

“I don’t have a type,” Robbe sighed, finally tucking his phone back in his pocket and looking up. Shifting his gaze to his left, he looked in the direction the boys had indicated, trying to find a pair of eyes seeking his.

Whoa. Okay, so he was pretty hot.

Tall with messy brown hair, a boy with blue eyes was meeting his gaze. When the corners of the boy’s lips lifted in a smile, Robbe blushed, looking down. Now he looked desperate. Super.

“Go get another beer,” Jens said, shoving him forward. “See if he follows you. And act cool!”

“What? I—” Robbe protested, but the two were now pushing him together, forcing a parting of the crowd in front of them.

Robbe swallowed, palms starting to sweat. He wove slowly through groups and couples dancing, making his way to the kitchen. Inside he sought out more drinks among the counter full of bottles and cups. It only took a few moments before he heard it.

“Hey,” the voice behind him said, deep and raspy.

Robbe turned slowly, trying to swallow the dryness from his throat. The tall boy stood behind him, his beer dangling from two fingers. He leaned down to Robbe, putting his mouth close to his ear.

“I’m Nathan,” he leaned back again to look Robbe in the eyes.

“Uhm,” Robbe stammered. “I’m Rob-Robbe.”

“Hi, Robbe,” Nathan said, smiling. “Do you dance?” He took a step forward, dangerously close.

“Not if I can help it,” Robbe laughed nervously. The boy laughed too, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth and dimples. Robbe wiped a hand across his mouth, worried he was drooling now.

“Maybe another drink, then?” the boy asked. Robbe just nodded.

Nathan smiled and reached around to the counter, searching through the bottles. When he finally found an unopened one, he popped off the top easily, making Robbe’s stomach flip. So hot.

Nathan handed it to Robbe, smiling. As Robbe took it, their fingertips brushed together. Robbe looked down, blushing. Then, again, the boy’s face was leaning down. They were cheek to cheek.

“Want to get out of here?” he whispered, sending a wave of goosebumps down Robbe’s arm and spine. With a small nod, Nathan grabbed Robbe’s hand, leading him through the crowd.

…..

Outside, the air was much cooler, and Robbe felt like he could breathe again. The music blared from the door of the apartment building onto the street, but now it was just a dull throb instead of a deafening pulse.

Deep inhales of the outside air made his head feel lighter, his thoughts clearer...that is, until Nathan would brush his arm. Then he felt fuzzy again. With one arm leaning against the brick of the building, the other was casually touching Robbe’s every few minutes and Robbe could feel his knees going weak.

They had been talking for almost forty-five minutes and Robbe forgot how nice it was to talk intimately with someone he could actually be face to face with. Why had he even been bothering with Earthling? Clearly, that was going nowhere. Nathan, on the other hand, had potential. He was interesting, asking Robbe about his life and sharing details about his own. They talked easily, their touches getting progressively more frequent. Then, Nathan went silent, his gaze flicking down to Robbe’s lips. Robbe’s stomach was fluttering, licking his lips in anticipation. Nathan was leaning in, the hand against the brick sliding down to Robbe’s waist….

“Well, well well,” a loud voice behind him announced, breaking violently through their moment, causing the two to pull apart quickly. “If it isn’t my pal, Robin!”

Sander Driesen, in dark jeans and a white t-shirt, appeared next to Robbe, followed by Britt in tow. He looked from Robbe to Nathan, smiling widely.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Robbe muttered under his breath. Nathan looked confused, glancing from Robbe to the bleached-blonde boy.

“Robin?” he asked, biting his lip in bewilderment.

“Ignore him,” Robbe said, grabbing his shoulder. “C’mon.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Robin?” Sander replied, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows at Robbe.

Robbe groaned. “Seriously, Sander,” he said, “Not now.”

“Oh, c’mon, buddy,” he gave Robbe’s shoulder a soft punch. “Introduce me to your friend,” the last work thick with implication.

Robbe rolled his eyes as Sander stuck a hand out to Nathan, who took it with a polite smile.

“I’m Sander,” the boy said. “Robbe and I….well, let’s just say we have a looooong history.”

Robbe glared at Sander. “We’re going now.”

As he was leading Nathan back down the street, Sander called out again, louder.

“We didn’t mean to interrupt the moment, love birds,” he said, smirking. “Carry on!” With a chuckle, Sander threw an arm around Britt’s waist and walked into the apartment.

A few feet down the sidewalk Nathan turned to Robbe. “Who was that?

“Nobody,” Robbe answered quickly, trying to turn the conversation anywhere but on Sander.

“It didn’t seem like nobody,” Nathan said quietly, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Is he...an old boyfriend, or something?”

“What?!” Robbe near-shouted, stopping to look right at Nathan. “No. No. Not even close. He drives me crazy.”

Nathan bit his lip. “Look, Robbe. I should probably get going.”

“What?” Robbe said, his face dropping. “Because of him? You can’t be serious—”

“I was probably moving too quickly,” Nathan said slowly. “I’m sorry.” He gave Robbe a quick kiss on the cheek and walked away, turning the corner out of view.

…..

Robbe didn’t care who was spilling drinks or getting their feet stepped on. Plowing through the crowd with his elbows, he found his way into the party and back to Jens and Aaron, who were in the middle of telling a story to two girls bearing plastic cups and bored expressions.

“Uhm, hey guys?” Robbe said, tapping Jens on the shoulder. “I’m going to take off.” Jens turned, quickly motioning a be right back to the girls, who nodded vaguely.

“Wait, what happened with the guy?’ Jens asked eagerly. “Are you going to his place?”

Robbe frowned. “No. It didn’t exactly...work out.”

“Sorry, man,” Aaron said, slapping Robbe’s shoulder. “Want us to come with?”

Robbe shook his head. “Nah, you guys stay. I’m going to call it a night anyway.”

Finishing his goodbyes, Robbe ditched his bottle and stepped back out in the night air, now considerably cooler. Finding his bike, he started unlocking the lock when a voice behind him again shook him out of his thoughts.

“Headed home already?” Sander. Again.

Robbe whipped around on him, finding him alone this time.

“Seriously, Sander? Can you please just leave me alone?” Robbe said, almost whining now. “You already managed to ruin this night for me once.”

This sobered Sander a little, who swallowed and took a step forward.

“Robbe, I—”

“No, I mean it, Sander. Go back to Britt, who’s apparently not your ‘girlfriend,’” Robbe did air quotes, making Sander clench his teeth again, “and leave me the hell alone.”

There was silence for a moment before Sander spoke.

“I’m sorry, Robbe.”

Robbe shook his head and turned back to his bike lock.

“I was doing you a favor, okay?” Sander spoke, his voice insistent. “That guy seemed like a real douche.” Robbe scoffed. Seriously?

“I mean, did you see his hair?” Sander continued. “Total poser.”

Robbe laughed to himself. “Yeah, like you’re one to talk,” he mumbled back at Sander.

Sander smiled at this. “Touche.”

Robbe had his bike unlocked now and he started to wheel it down the street.

“See you around, Robbe.” Sander called out.

“Yeah, don’t count on it,” Robbe replied.

As he mounted his bike, his phone vibrated. A message.

Earthlingoddity: You know what, forget what I said. Screw the rules. Let’s meet. When? Where?

………

Robbe didn’t respond to Earthling’s message for several days. When he did, he wanted to come off cool, casual. He drafted and redrafted the same message in a hundred different ways. Finally, he sent back:

Sterkerdanijzer: Yeah, okay. I guess we can. I can do Friday at 18h. Drinks at Jardim Antwerpen?

He got a reply almost immediately.

Earthlingoddity: Absolutely. I’ll be there. Without a mask ;-)

So there he was, sitting at a table watching the sun go down, turning a near-empty glass in his hands over and over again in his hands. Even with the condensation from the glass, Robbe’s palms were clammy. He was so nervous he had to occasionally reach down to calm his shaking legs.

Milan had helped him pick out an outfit, a white linen button up and jeans. Zoe had mussed his hair until she insisted it was “perfect.” But he just felt ridiculous. Why was he even doing this? If he’d learned anything from the past few weeks, it was that he knew nothing. And he was probably going to be single forever. And for all he knew, Earthling would turn out to be a serial killer.

At 18h15, Robbe started to get antsy. He messaged the boy:

Sterkerdanijzer: I’m here. White shirt, brown hair. U close?

But he got no response. He bit his lip anxiously, checking his phone constantly. At 18h45, after he had downed one more drink than he should have, he got up. Leaving a tip on the table, he shoved his phone in his pocket and headed to leave. This was a ridiculous idea, he scolded himself. So stupid. Of course he wouldn’t show.

As he neared the exit, he saw a flash of white in his peripheral. Turning, he saw a boy sitting at a table alone, phone in his hand. Sander.

As if he’d spoken his name out loud, Sander looked up, green eyes glowing. He smirked. “Small world,” he called out to Robbe. “What are you doing here?”

Robbe glared at him. “None of your business. What are you doing here?”

Sander just looked at him for a minute. “I’m, uh...waiting for Britt. She’s supposed to be here soon. Were you waiting for a date?” His knowing smile made Robbe’s insides twist.

“Right,” Robbe said, nodding. “Well, I’m going to…” he turned again to leave.

“Uhm, actually, Robbe?” he called out. Robbe turned back slightly. What was he going to say now?

“Do you think I could borrow your phone to text Britt? Mine is dead.”

Robbe hesitated. Gone from Sander’s tone was any hint of teasing. He sounded genuine. He sounded desperate, almost.

“Yeah, fine,” Robbe seceded, walking over to Sander’s table and handing over his phone.

“Thanks,” Sander said, giving Robbe a small smile as he met his gaze.

Robbe stood there as Sander typed, concentrating hard on the screen. Waiting, he glanced around again. No sign of anybody new. No sign of anybody looking for him. He was so stupid.

“So, were you supposed to meet Nathan here?” Sander asked, not looking up as he continued to type.

“Why do you care?” Robbe asked.

Sander looked up. “I’m just making conversation. I hope it wasn’t him, though. You could do better.”

Robbe scoffed. “Okay, thanks for the tip, Sander.” He turned away again. ‘Cause Sander cared SO much about him. Right.

Then Sander stood, downing the rest of his drink. “Look like she’s not coming.” But as he handed Robbe back his phone, he didn’t look sad. He was smiling. Walking toward the exit, he turned back toward Robbe.

“You coming?” Sander asked.

“What, me?” Robbe asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah you, Robin,” Sander laughed. “Let’s go.” Walking away again, Robbe stood there, mouth open.

“Come!” Sander’s voice reached Robbe again. He was probably too drunk to think straight because next thing he knew, he was following Sander’s silhouette into the sunset.

…..

“Sander, you cannot be serious,” Robbe stood obstinately away from the door, shaking his head at the boy, who was jiggling with the lock on a door, labeled boldly with a “No Trespassing” sign. “I assumed your plans were more drinks, not jail.”

Sander kept his hands on the door handle, but turned to face Robbe, a teasing grin on his face.

“Would you chill? We’re not getting arrested. I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that makes me feel better,” Robbe retorted.

Sander just laughed and continued jiggling until click. The door squeaked open. He turned and raised his eyebrows at Robbe. “Come.”

Robbe shook his head again. He could not believe this. Not only was Sander trying to ruin his social life, he was trying to get him arrested. But Sander had disappeared behind the door, and finally, reluctantly, Robbe followed behind him.

Illuminating the stairs inside with the light on his phone, Sander led Robbe to the top, where he held his hands out in a ta-da! motion, so clearly pleased with this reveal.

Reaching the top and taking in the scene, Robbe’s jaw dropped. A large, open-air pool laid out before him, neon blue water rippling with the cold wind.

“No,” Robbe started, his voice escalating. “Sander, no. We are not—”

But Sander was starting to shrug out of his jacket, then reaching down to undo the laces of his boots.

“C’mon,” he whisper-yelled. “We’re doing this!”

“You’re insane!” Robbe yelled. “There’s no way I’m getting in that pool. We will die!”

Sander laughed as he lifted his shirt over his head. “We will not die, Robbe. Just come!”

Robbe just stood there in disbelief as Sander kept shedding clothes, not stopping at his briefs. In a blink of an eye, he was completely naked and running towards the pool, jumping in with a yelp.

Robbe’s jaw dropped. Sander was actually insane. And was his skin always that golden? And did he have abs?

Emerging from the water with a screech, Sander called out again.

“Robbe, come! It’s amazing in here!”

“No,” Robbe said defiantly. “No way.”

“You’re missing out, Robin,” he called out to him in a sing-song voice.

Robbe shook his head. “It’s freezing cold!”

“Yeah, it’s freezing cold,” Sander said. “But you have to do it. Get in! Now!”

Treading water, the light from the pool making his blonde hair glow neon, Sander waited for him, smiling.

Before he could think, Robbe started unbuttoning his shirt, dropping it on the concrete. Stepping out of his jeans, he watched Sander’s eyes roam across his bare chest. He swallowed hard.

Down to his underwear, Robbe started toward the pool, berating himself for giving into the demands of a pretentious — but weirdly captivating — boy.

Okay, that was clearly the alcohol talking, he thought, shaking the idea from his head.

“Hey, hey!” Sander yelled, stopping Robbe in his tracks. “All the way or no way.”

Robbe balked at him. Was he serious? He exhaled, biting his lip. Reaching down, he stripped off his underwear, now completely bare in front of Sander Driesen. He was going to regret this. But for now, he jumped into the pool.

He had been right. It was freezing. Easily the coldest water he’d ever felt. When his head exited the water, he yelped.

“Oh. My. God.” he squealed, teeth chattering. “I am going to kill you, Sander!” He splashed around violently, trying to keep his limbs from going numb.

“Dude, can you even swim?” Sander yelled, laughing.

Robbe splashed water Sander’s way. “Are you kidding? I can swim better than you any day!”

“Was that a challenge?” Sander quipped, circling around Robbe.

“Well, yeah, I think it was!” Robbe answered. “You scared Driesen?”

Sander smiled at him. “You’re on, Robin! First one to that opposite side of the pool wins! On three!”

“One….” Robbe started.

“Two….” Sander echoed.

“Three!” They yelled in unison, taking off for the pool’s edge.

Robbe stroked, gasping deeply as he tried to find his stride. He was not going to let Sander beat him, no matter how drunk he was.

But when he reached the ledge, cheering in victory, he couldn’t see Sander. He wiped the water from his eyes, and looked beneath the water for Sander. He couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Sander?” He called out. “I totally kicked your ass!”

Still, nothing. Now, Robbe was starting to panic.

“Sander?!” His yelled, desperation creeping into his voice. He was about to call out again when Sander popped out of the water directly in front of him, so close, stealing Robbe’s breath and pinning him against the ledge.

“Sander, what the hell? What are you—” Robbe started, but before he could finish, Sander grasped the ledge behind Robbe, covering his body with his. Robbe felt Sander’s chest rise and fall against his as he tried to catch his breath.

“You won, Robin,” Sander spoke deeply.

Then, he was kissing Robbe, keeping one hand on the ledge, the other sliding down to Robbe’s waist, holding him in place. Sander’s hand was firm, making Robbe melt beneath him. Robbe reached back a hand to hold himself to the ledge and the other found the nape of Sander’s neck. Using his fingers, he pulled Sander towards him, then let those fingers tangle themselves in Sander’s hair. Feeling his pull, Sander kissed Robbe deeper, grasping at any part of Robbe’s mouth he could find, sliding down to his jaw and his neck, sucking the skin there. Whining, Robbe’s eyes rolled back. Sander found lips again, tugging on them gently. Robbe licked the soft skin of Sander’s lips and heard a gentle moan escape the boy’s throat. It was happening so fast. Their limbs and breath were tangling, mixing together in explosive energy that made them both weak.

He was kissing Sander Driesen. He was kissing Sander Driesen. When these words came together and made sense in his mind, he startled, shoving Sander off of him.

“What are we doing?” Robbe spoke, trying to catch his breath. “What are we doing?! This isn’t….we’re, we’re drunk!” His voice was rising, filling with disbelief and exasperation.

“Robbe, I—” Sander said, water dripping off his golden skin, tempting Robbe more than he wanted to admit. He approached Robbe again slowly.

“No, no,” Robbe said, reaching for the ledge and hefting himself out of the water. “This was a huge mistake. I’m drunk. We’re drunk. We shouldn’t have—”

“Robbe, wait!” Sander called, swimming towards the ledge and following Robbe out.

Robbe ran and gathered his clothes. “I have to go, Sander. Let me go.”

Sander stopped, a look of confusion and hurt painting his face. “Robbe, don’t….”

Robbe spun on him, his voice rising. “Don’t follow me, Sander. And don’t you dare tell anyone about this. Swear it.”

Sander just looked at him, lifting up his hands in submission. “I’m sorry, I swear I won’t—”

Then Robbe ran down the stairs, struggling to pull his clothes on over his soaking-wet body as he left Sander behind him.

……

Robbe had hoped that when he woke up, the whole night would have been a dream. A ridiculous dream that would have made him blush...and probably need to take a cold shower. But still, a dream. A dream he could forget about. But the pile of wet clothes on the floor and phone full of messages from Sander proved otherwise. He groaned, aching from the memory and the hangover.

His phone vibrated again and exasperated, he turned to silence it when he saw it — a message not from Sander, but from Earthling.

Earthlingoddity: Hey….I know that there is probably nothing I can say to you right now that will make up for what I did last night. I didn’t mean to stand you up. I promise. Something just...came up and I couldn’t make it. I promise it wasn’t you, okay. Please, please forgive me?

Robbe just stared at the message. As he did, another message from Sander came.

Sander: Robbe, please answer me. I’m sorry about last night. Can we please talk, face-to-face?

Robbe rubbed his face. What was he going to say to either of these people? Why was everything such a mess?

Kissing Sander last night...that had been the biggest shock to his system. Sander hated him. He hated Sander. That was their relationship. But in an ice-cold pool they’d entered some alternate universe and crossed a line. They were drunk. That was it. Right?

Robbe went back to the message from Earthling. Typing slowly, he sent:

Sterkerdanijzer: you were right. We should have never agreed to meet.

He got a response back almost immediately.

Earthlingoddity: No! No, it wasn’t a mistake. We should meet. I promise, something just came up that I couldn’t say no to. I want to meet you so bad. Please, can you give me another chance? I’ll do anything.

Robbe closed the message. Not now.

Taking another deep breath, he opened Sander’s message.

Robbe: Fine, we can talk. Come to my house in an hour.

Sander: I’ll be there.

……

After Robbe had showered and straightened up his room, he took a deep breath. He had no idea how he was going to survive this interaction with Sander, after all that had happened between them. They’d kissed. ALOT. They’d been naked, for heaven’s sake. Robbe groaned, flopping back down on his bed. What was happening to him? The world was turning upside down.

With that, there was a knock on the door. He could hear Jens shuffling to get it, but he raced to the door, sliding past Jens.

“I got it, I got it.”

Jens just looked at him, yawning. “What the hell?”

“It’s...it’s uhm...for me. I’ll get it.”

Jens stared blankly. “You’re being weird.” But he just went off towards the kitchen, yawning again.

Taking a breath, Robbe opened the door.

Sander stood there, his hair also wet, clearly brushed into submission. He had on a cream-colored sweater, which shocked Robbe. He looked good.

“Robbe. Hey.” He smiled, taking a deep breath.

Robbe just stood there, unsure of what to say.

Sander smiled again. “Soooo….can I come in or….?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, come in.” Robbe opened the door wider so Sander could enter.

Glancing towards the kitchen, where Jens was making coffee, glasses clinking, he motioned to the hallway.

“Let’s go to my room and talk,” Robbe spoke quietly.

“Sure, yeah,” Sander nodded. “Lead the way.”

Robbe walked hesitantly toward his room, opening the door for Sander. He entered, looking around.

“Nice place,” he commented, looking at Robbe with a wink. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Robbe smiled, feeling flushed all of the sudden.

Sander went and sat on the edge of the bed. Robbe followed.

Sander cleared his throat. “So, I know what happened last night surprised you. I know it surprised me.” He smiled to himself. “I just wanted to say that….I’m not sorry.”

“What?” Robbe looked up at him, confused.

Sander was firm, sure. “I said, I’m not sorry. For what happened. For kissing you.”

“You’re….not sorry….” Robbe repeated slowly, trying to understand.

“I wanted to kiss you and I did. And I don’t regret it. I know we were drunk, but I think you wanted to kiss me, too.”

Robbe felt heat rise to his cheeks. He spoke quietly. “Sander…it doesn’t make sense. We don’t make sense. At all. We are at each other’s throats constantly.”

“So what?” Sander asked, laughing. “Maybe what we thought was hate was just passion.”

“Passion?” Robbe choked. “Passion? We can’t stand each other! We drive each other completely crazy!”

“Well,” Sander began, biting his lip. “That, I guess, is true. You do drive me crazy. But not for the reasons you think.”

What?

“Sander, what are you—” but Robbe stopped as Sander turned towards him, sliding a hand to cup his jaw.

“You do drive me completely insane, Robbe,” he said gently. “But in a way I want to feel all the time. That kiss was….” he put his hands together over his head, imitating a mind-blown gesture, “pppppffffffeeeewww.”

Robbe’s lips were curling up in a smile he couldn’t hide. He felt warm. But something nagged at him.

“Sander, I can’t do this,” he admitted quickly, before he could stop himself. “I know this sounds silly and stupid, but….there’s someone else.”

Sander sat back. “Who, Nathan?”

Robbe shook his head. “No, not Nathan. You ruined that one, remember?” He slugged Sander’s arm.

“No, it’s….” Robbe put his head down, embarrassed. “It’s someone I don’t even actually know.” He covered his face in his hands. “I know, it’s so stupid. But I think I really care about this person.”

To Robbe’s surprise, Sander didn’t laugh. Or come up with some stupid insult. Or even seem surprised by his revelation at all.

“Okay,” he began. “So, who is he? Where did you meet him?”

“Well,” Robbe said, blushing again. “We met online. On a stupid street art blog. We talk through DMs all day, everyday. Yesterday, when we ran into each other, I was waiting for him. We were supposed to meet each other for the first time in person. But….he stood me up.”

“Hmmm,” Sander sounded. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

Robbe laughed. “He’s not, though! Sure, I was devastated that he ditched me...and then, we kissed...and, everything is just a mess.” He fell back on the bed again, hands over his face.

Sander was silent for a minute. “So did he apologize? For last night?”

Robbe sat up slightly. “Well, yeah. He messaged me again saying he was sorry, and that it wasn’t me.”

“So?” Sander asked, probing for more.

“So what?” Robbe asked.

“So, what are you going to say? Are you going to forgive him?” Sander asked.

“Well...I don’t know,” Robbe admitted. “I want to. You’re going to insult me mercilessly for the rest of time for saying this, but...I think Earthling is my soulmate.”

Sander grinned. “I’m sorry, who?”

Robbe laughed, embarrassed again.

“Earthlingoddity, it’s his handle. I just call him Earthling.”

Sander looked down at his lap, biting his lip to hide a grin.

“I knew you would make fun of me!” Robbe shoved Sander. “I knew it!”

“No!” Sander held his hands up innocently. “I’m not making fun of you! I think it’s cute. I mean, it’s a Bowie reference, he’s obviously got good taste.”

Robbe smiled. “Yeah, he does,” he said.

“So,” Sander continued. “If you think this guy is your soulmate, I think you should talk to him. Give him another chance.”

“What should I say?” Robbe asked. “Do I ask him to meet up again?”

Sander thought for a minute. “I think you need to give him an ultimatum. His last chance.”

“An ultimatum?” Robbe asked.

“Yep.” Sander said, scooting to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Take out your phone.”

“What, now?” Robbe asked incredulously.

“Yes, now!” Sander said firmly. “C’mon. Get your phone.”

Robbe shook his head. Of course, his rival, the guy he’d made out with last night, was now helping him attempt to snag a man. He officially understood nothing.

Taking out his phone, he pulled up Earthling’s message.

“So what do I say?” He looked at Sander.

“Just say….” Sander began, looking off in thought. “You hurt me yesterday. This is your one chance to make it up to me. Meet me tonight or we’re done with this. No more talking, no more messages. This is it. Your last chance” Damn. Looking at Sander once more, he typed it out. Taking a deep breath, he hit Send.

“Oh no, oh no, I sent it. What now. What if he doesn’t answer? What if he thinks I’m desperate?” Robbe rattled off, starting to hyperventilate.

Then, Sander’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out.

“Sorry, hold on a sec,” he said. “I gotta respond to this.”

“Sander!” Robbe whined. “Focus! I need you! If he responds, you have to help me!”

“Don’t worry. Robin,” Sander said with a smirk. “He will. And I will.”

Sander typed quickly, then put his phone back down on the bed. He was hiding another smirk.

Robbe glared at him. “Sander! Are you texting Britt right now? Should I remind you that we’re focusing on me right now? Or should I remind you that you kissed me last night? What is wrong with you?!”

Sander shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t texting Britt, Robbe, calm down.”

But Robbe ignored this as his phone buzzed again.

“Oh my god, okay, it’s him,” he cleared his throat. “This is what he said.”

Now, Sander was laughing. Loudly.

“Sander!” Robbe whined again.

Sander tried to stifle a laugh with his palm. “Okay,” he tried to turn the laugh into a cough. “Right, I’m focused. Well, what did he say?”

Robbe swiped and opened the message.

“He said...I choose you, Robin. Always, one hundred percent, forever.”

Robbe’s phone fell in his lap as he looked up at Sander.

“Sander…..what kind of joke are you—”

Sander just shook his head and grinned. “Don’t call me, Sander. From now on, you have to call me Earthling.”

Then, Sander was crawling over to Robbe, pushing him back down on the bed.

Hovering over him, he spoke gently.

“When I saw you with Nathan at the party last week, I got jealous. You looked so hot and I knew I was starting to want you. It scared me. I knew you hated me. But I did. I wanted you. Trust me, Britt and I aren’t together. I just wanted to make you jealous. And that obviously backfired,” he said, laughing.

He continued to Robbe’s breathless stare. “Then I found out it was you I had been messaging when I borrowed your phone at the bar yesterday,” he said. “I saw the messages I’d sent you as Earthling. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe Robin was the boy I’d been talking to. The boy I’d been falling in love with, online and in real life. I was going to tell you right there, but you were so mad at me and so cute and I couldn’t resist trying to see if I could get you to fall in love with me, too. As Sander. And after that kiss, I knew what we had was real. Whether over text or in a freezing cold pool, it was real.”

Robbe blinked in disbelief. Was he really hearing this? It wasn’t some colossal joke Sander was playing on him?

“Sander….” he said carefully. “Is that true? Is that really—” but before he could finish, Sander was kissing him again, winding a hand into his hair, immersing him completely, deeply into him.

It was true.

.....

So, telling their friends about their relationship had been interesting.

First, Jen had walked in on them, sloshing coffee all over himself when he saw Sander pulling off Robbe’s shirt. That had been a hard one to explain.

But the weirdest part was that no one had really seemed surprised. Sure, Jens was taken back initially, but as they sat in the kitchen sharing coffee (after Robbe had reclaimed his shirt and gotten dressed), Robbe sitting on Sander’s lap, Jens had smiled at them like a proud dad.

You’re like yin and yang, he’d said. Somehow you two just fit.

And they did. In so many ways. Their minds, their souls, their bodies...

They just fit.

#wtfock #wtfock fanfic #wtfock fic #sobbe #robbe x sander #enemies to lovers #you've got mail #this was a trip

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kiarcheo · 4 years

Text

StepBother

'I’d say that we have to thank Mary for the suggestion.’ ‘I’d rather die.’ The disgust on Kat’s face makes Cathy chuckle.

AKA

The one where Kat and Mary have an interesting relationship and Parrward get together.

A/N: Mary’s portrait in this fic is positive and totally ignores her doings as a queen but if it bothers you, you can skip to the Parrward part starting with Kat waiting at the cinema: Mary is mentioned but I think you can understand what is going on without having read the first part of the fic.

With that out of the way…I’m not sure exactly what this is or where it came from, but it started with 500 words of Mary&Kat banter (actually I know where that part came from, from Hidden Stories and their dynamic in the last chapter) and then ofc Parrward had to get involved and it got out of hand and now I have almost 4000 words??

This is 1/4 Mary&Kat and 3/4 Parrward, I guess. Also can read on Ao3 as usual.

When you’re a 16th-century queen living in the 21st century, things are bound to be confusing. From language to social conventions, the changes are endless, without even talking about the technological progress. Motion sensor technology, from bells ringing when you step into a shop to doors opening themselves, still catches them by surprise, especially when things start to move or turn off and on without any prompt.

Home is an oasis of familiarity and certainty, if they don’t dwell on why they and their children had been brought back, how, or even simpler questions like why they came back aged as they had. The order from older to younger goes: Catalina, Anna, Jane, Anne, Cathy, Kat. They had tried to figure it out, of course. Was it according to their original date of birth? No, because then Anne would have been the second oldest one. Was it according to their age when they died? No, because Jane would have been younger than Anne and Cathy. Their age at the time of their marriage to Henry? Catalina and Anna, at 24 and 25, had been the youngest besides Kat, so that made no sense either. The length of their reign? Pitiful as most of them had been, Cathy and Anne would have followed Catalina. The kids at least had come back in the order of their birth: Mary is still the oldest, followed by Elizabeth, Edward, and then toddler Mae. Everyone came back younger, with the notable exceptions of Katherine and Mae who returned at the same age they were when they died. Perhaps it was possible to make them younger but not older than they had ever been in their first lives?

Just small questions to ignore, right? But once they decided that their return was the work of an inscrutable higher power and they learnt how to use modern appliances, with their shared past, knowledge and experiences, home became an oasis of familiarity and certainty in a new, confusing world.

Except for one thing. Which was actually one of most baffling matters the queens had encountered… and that they kept seeing, right in the house they shared: the relationship between Katherine Howard and Mary Tudor.

According to history books, that should have been Katherine’s most fraught relationship: unlike the first three queens, she didn’t have any issue with her predecessors or successor, Elizabeth and Edward had fond memories of her, and she had never even met little Mae. And if age had been a sore point between them – for Mary at least, who had been displeased at her father marrying someone several years younger than herself – them returning pretty much at the same age, seemed a recipe for disaster.

With time, most animosity among the queens had been squelched and scores had been settled, and the idea of them all living together had been put forward. It took a while, but they finally managed to find a suitable house to everyone’s liking. Still, being cordial during an occasional meeting was different than living together. So the queens had expected, if not explosive confrontations, at least tense interactions between the youngest queen and the oldest ‘kid’. But they never came. Instead, as they all moved in together, they were witnesses to a dynamic that they struggled to fully understand, but that seemed to work well for the two girls.

****

‘I think we can all agree-’

‘That I’m the ten among you threes?’ Kat interrupts her.

Mary glares at her. ‘That my father was an asshole.’

‘That too.’

Catherine raises an eyebrow at what she hears as she enters the room. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I didn’t really mean that, you know.’

‘Just curious. Trust me, not going to defend him.’ Nobody in their house would, and she thought Kat would know it.

‘No, I mean, you’re not a three. You’re totally a ten too.’

Catalina chuckles. ‘Aren’t you charming today?’

****

‘You’re lucky you got your mom’s looks.’

Cathy wonders if they realise she is the kitchen and if she should make her presence known. She doesn’t particularly wish to witness their flirting either.

‘Actually, my father was quite handsome in his youth.’

‘Wouldn’t know, he was like thrice my age and twice my size when I met him.’

‘Same.’ It slips out. Not really. She had been 31 when they got married and he had been twenty years her senior. But Cathy understands the sentiment.

Mary looks from Kat to Cathy, apparently not at all put out by her overhearing them. ‘Fair enough.’

****

‘No offence to Anne but divorcing your mother should have been a sign that something was wrong with him.’

Hearing her name, Anne starts to pay attention as Kat continues. ‘I would have never done it.’

‘What?’ Mary echoes Anne’s thoughts.

‘If I had been married to Catalina, I would have never divorced her. RIP Henry but I’m different.’

‘I don’t know what’s more disturbing. That you find my mom attractive or that you would have been my stepmother.’

Kat chuckles. ‘I am your stepmother.’

‘Stepbother, that’s what you are.’

****

‘Ehi, Mary, do you call your mom mami?’

‘No?’

‘Can I?’

Mary gives a saccharine smile to Jane, who is looking between her and Kat confused. ‘Jane, we’re going to need one less seat at the table today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some murdering to do.’

***

‘Mary, Mary,’ Anna is ready to point out to Kat that there is no way Mary can hear her calling if she is whispering her name like that, when Kat yells. ‘MARY!’

‘You bellowed?

‘See? Call three times and she will appear; you don’t even need a mirror.’

‘I’m going to kill you.’

‘Not really helping your case.’

Anna chuckles. She doesn’t understand their relationship, but it certainly makes for some entertaining times.

***

The queens are in the living room when they hear the front door opening and the distinctive voices of Mary and Kat getting closer.

‘I said that objectively speaking.’

‘And then I’m going to tell her that you objectively think she is hot.’

‘Don’t you dare.’

‘Don’t be ashamed, Mary!’ Kat enters the living room, eyes on her phone. ‘Embrace the gay!’

She gets the wind knocked out of her by an unexpected hug. ‘What?’ Mary squeezes her more. ‘I’m doing as you said.’

‘Kat, are you gay?’

Everyone stops at Jane’s question.

‘Am I gay?’ Kat laughs. ‘I’m ecstatic!’

Mary can’t help to notice that Cathy is the only one chuckling at Kat’s quote.

So. Yes. If asked about Kat and Mary’s relationship, the consensus is that they seem to live to bother each other. Mary lording being older over Kat and Kat constantly reminding Mary that she was and still is her stepmother as her marriage to Henry had never been annulled. Mary threatening bodily harm and Kat mentioning how much she likes Catalina. It’s just harmless flirting and Catalina finds it amusing as much as Mary finds it annoying. She knows perfectly well that Kat hits on her mom just to rile her up…and it works every single time.

‘You know, for once, you could actually focus your attention on the Catherine you actually like…’ Mary says once her mother leaves the room, eyes not leaving the sketchbook on her lap.

‘What? I do like your mom. I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Sure you don’t.’ Mary rolls her eyes. ‘You should have been Catherine with a C.’

‘What? Why?’ Kat asks genuinely confused.

‘Then your name would have fit you better.’ She raises the sketchbook to show it to her. A blank page with a single word in capital letters: C(h)oward. ‘Since you’re a coward.’

Yet, for two people who loudly proclaim all the time that they cannot stand each other and whose contact name for the other is ‘stepbother’ (Mary claiming Kat had stolen it from her but it made no sense, Kat retorting that daughter and bother sound similar enough to make sense), they sure spend a lot of time together of their own volition.

That’s how Kat finds herself waiting outside the cinema for Mary. Who is late. Despite being the one who had wanted to see the movie – Kat still doesn’t know which one, but her and Mary have a similar enough taste that she usually trusts her choices – and had organised the outing. She looks at her phone again to check if Mary had replied to her text. Nothing. She doesn’t know why she even bothered to try since the phone didn’t buzz. She is slipping it back in her pocket when the awaited sound stops her. She opens the chat: Mary sent her the code of her ticket, telling her to start heading in. Seeing no reason for both to risk missing the movie, she does, but not before writing back that Mary better get some snacks when she arrives to make up for her lateness.

She easily finds her assigned seat. She sits down and looks at the ticket stub again to double check. Portrait of a lady on fire. She contemplates whether looking it up online. She has never heard of it, but the way the girl at the till had smiled at her while handing her the ticket made her feel like she is missing something.

‘Look who decided to show u-’ she greets the person who just sat down next to her. ‘Cathy?’

‘Kat? Hi!’ Cathy sounds as surprised as she is to see her there. ‘I didn’t know Mary had invited you too.’

‘Mary?’

‘Yeah, she told me to go ahead and get in without waiting for her. Why?’

Kat shakes her head lightly. ‘She told me the same.’ She takes her phone out, quickly opening their chat. Her fingers hover over the screen. Should she stick with the evergreen ‘I’m going to kill you’ (she should really make a shortcut for it) or be more creative and get into details of how she is going to make her pay?

‘I feel slightly out of place.’

Kat looks at Cathy, who just juts her chin and tilts her head slightly. ‘Take a look around yourself.’ She adds very quietly.

Lots of small groups of elderly women. Or elderly couples. Kat doesn’t turn around to check the rows behind her, but from what she can see they are the youngest people in the room. Perhaps that’s the usual audience for a mid-week afternoon show?

‘It’s so nice to see some new faces!’ Apparently they are not the only ones who took notice. A lady is smiling at them, holding out a pamphlet. ‘In case you’re interested in more.’

Cathy takes it, thanking her. It’s a list of foreign movies with the details of the screenings.

‘How is your French?’

Kat takes a moment to think about it. ‘Rusty?’

She has never been as good as Anne, for obvious reasons. They had retained their language skills from the past which left her (and Jane) at disadvantage compared to the others. With five languages each, Cathy and Catalina are the polyglot queens, with the three older kids on par with them. It is actually a point of pride for the queens. They might be lacking some common general knowledge, but their household can speak English, French, German, Spanish, Italian and Greek, even if some slightly antiquate forms of them at times.

Kat knows that she will never be the most well-versed in languages in their group, but it doesn’t mean she is not going to take advantage of her multi-lingual family and learn as much as she can. But lately she might have been neglecting French a bit to focus on learning Spanish. Admittedly it had started as a way to annoy Mary by talking with Catalina in what Mary considered ‘their own private language’, despite most people at the house speaking it. But then it became the gateway for a better relationship with the first queen, replacing the cordial but distant one they had before.

Anne and Jane were family and family had been everything in the past, despite how crappy she had been treated by her own blood. She still values it above most things, so it gave her an instant connection to them, despite past experiences…or perhaps thanks to them. Surprise, surprise, their extended family had not been much nicer to her cousins than they had been to her, so there was bonding over terrible families. Anna was a friendly face from the past and they almost seamlessly picked up from where they had left. And Cathy…they had an immediate and quick connection. At first it was because they were the youngest queens in this new life and also the ones who could relate the most to each other about their past one. They had to put up with the same Henry. Anna’s married experience had been short before moving onto a cordial if not friendly relationship as the ‘King’s sister’ (and besides, Kat knew she still harboured guilty feelings about her divorce opening the way for Kat’s marriage and consequent death, so she tried to avoid the topic). Jane had supposedly been ‘the only one he truly loved’. And Catalina and Anne had known a younger Henry who was, apparently, quite a different man from the one the last two queens had been saddled with.

All in all, Catalina had been the queen Kat had struggled the most to connect with, and learning Spanish helped. But not in this occasion, with a French movie about to start.

‘It should have subtitles, right?’

The credits end. The lights come up. They remain seated. Most of the audience does, almost if shell-shocked by the movie that just ended. Cathy nudges Kat’s elbow lightly, offering a tissue. Usually Kat would make a joke about her being such a mom (she has taken care of Mae enough to know that you can never be overprepared with a toddler), but she wordlessly accepts it. They both dry their eyes.

‘I think,’ Kat croaks out, ‘this is the best movie I’ve ever seen.’

She is not an expert cinephile, it goes without saying; none of them are. But they did look for lists of iconic movies and watched them. While their usual excuse of having grown up without a tv works relatively well when they need to explain their lack of pop culture knowledge, nobody likes to feel always left out. They still have movie family nights, usually with a ‘must-watch’ title, but by now everyone just watches what they like. In Kat’s case, she tends to stick to ‘light’ movies. She doesn’t care if it’s fantasy, comedy, action, animated…she just doesn’t want to be scared or cry too much. But sometimes the crying is worth it.

‘Yeah.’ Cathy agrees. It seems like she has been left speechless too.

Both lost in their thoughts, no words are exchanged until they are out of the cinema.

‘Want to go and eat something?’

‘What about Mae?’

Cathy smiles at Kat’s thoughtfulness. ‘Everyone but us is home.’ Perks of living all together. Built-in babysitter service basically 24/7 in case of need. ‘And Jane said that even if the others go out, she will stay.’

As they sit at a Chinese restaurant nearby, the conversation returns to the movie.

‘I mean, I wished the ending was different, you know? Happy. With them together. But…the more I think, the more I understand it, I think.’ Kat says, twirling her noodles with her fork, using chopsticks a skill she has yet to master properly. ‘I get it. Marriage being unescapable. Men intruding in women’s spaces and lives ruining everything…’

‘Oh?’

‘Not like that.’ She realises what Cathy thought she was implying. ‘Just…the happiest period of my life had been the first months as Anna’s maid of honour. Just being around her and the other ladies. And then of course Henry had to ruin everything…’ Kat shakes her head as to dispel the thought. ‘What about you?’

‘I think I still need sometime to fully process the movie. But I’d say that we have to thank Mary for the suggestion.’

‘I’d rather die.’ The disgust on Kat’s face makes Cathy chuckle. ‘How did that happen, anyway?’ She has never seen Mary and Cathy spend any significant amount of time together.

‘She texted me, something about wanting to taste,’ Kat starts choking, ‘which I assume was meant to be test, the waters. We’re not as close as the others, so I thought spending time together could be good…You okay?’

Kat, still coughing, waves her concern away. ‘Just a bit too spicy.’

‘Yeah, you look flushed.’

‘I’ll pop to the loo and splash some water on my face,’ she rasps out, standing up.

Cathy follows her with her eyes, making sure that she is okay, until she disappears behind the toilet door. Then she grabs the menu, wanting to check the desserts. Her eyes fall onto the noodles section and…Kat’s dish has no red chili pepper next to it.

A vibration distracts her from her thoughts. She immediately checks her phone in case the call is about Mae, before realising it comes from Kat’s phone, ‘Stepbother’ flashing on the screen. The vibrating stops. Then starts again, this time shorter ones. Instinctively she looks at it.

A notification pops up.

* Don’t be a K(h)oward like usual *

Others follow in quick succession.

* Tell her *

* You’re not going to like the next step of my plan *

* I will get you two together *

* So you stop hitting on my mom *

* Not because I want you to be happy *

* Ofc *

‘So…going back to Mary,’ Cathy starts once Kat is back. ‘Do you think she did it on purpose?’

Kat looks intently at the menu, shrugging.

‘Because that would be…going to some length.’ She continues. ‘Organising. Getting two separate tickets but for seats next to each other. Paying for them…Any idea why?’

Kat sighs. ‘Any chance you’re letting this go?’

‘Any chance Mary is going to let this go?’

Kat puts her elbows on the table, closed fists against her forehead. A groan is all Cathy gets.

‘I’m sure it’s not that bad.’

Kat rubs her eyes in frustration. Cathy is starting to think she won’t get a reply when the younger girl straightens up in her chair.

She takes a visibly deep breath and rushes out ‘She has been pushing me to ask you out for…’ she hesitates, ‘some time.’

‘How long if she had decided to take matters in her hands?’ She is teasing but also genuinely curious.

‘Not like she is known for her patience.’ Kat grumbles. Looking at Cathy she can see that she is not convinced, but she is thankful that she seems to let it go. And smiling. ‘You’re not upset?’

‘Why don’t we continue this outside?’ Cathy nods towards the exit. ‘But no,’ she adds before Kat could misinterpret it. ‘I’m not upset.’

As they go towards the till to pay, Cathy tries to order her thoughts. That was not what she had been expecting from today. Kat was interested in her. It’s not like she had never thought about it. They get along very well. Besides her godmother, Kat is the queen she feels the closest too. She is great with Mae. And she is undeniably beautiful.

‘What are thinking?’

Cathy has not even realised they had left the restaurant. ‘Wait! I didn’t pay!’ She makes to go back inside but Kat grabs her arm.

‘I took care of it.’ Kat shrugs. ‘You were clearly out of it and it’s my fault.’ She jams her hands in her pockets, eyes downcast.

‘None of that,’ she bumps against her hip, trying to get a smile. ‘I was just surprised.’

Kat peeks at her, cautiously hopeful.

‘I didn’t think you liked me. As more than a friend.’ Cathy specifies before Kat can say anything in that regard. ‘Well, maybe sometimes? But I sort of convinced myself that it was wishful thinking.’

Kat stops walking at that. ‘What?’ She hurries to catch up with Cathy.

‘I thought you and Mary…’

‘Eww. She is like…was going to say sister but that would make it really weird to hit on her mom.’

‘That’s the other thing.’

‘You didn’t really think I fancied Catalina, did you? I mean, she is a beautiful woman, but it has always been about annoying Mary.’

‘I really don’t get your relationship.’

Kat just shrugs. She is used to hearing that.

‘Hey! I know you!’ a loud voice interrupts them. ‘This a step-daughter too?’ The man takes a step closer to Kat.

Cathy doesn’t know what possesses her, but she puts her arm around Kat’s waist. ‘Actually I’m her girlfriend and we’re on a date.’

‘Is that so?’ The man looks between them.

‘Yes.’ Kat puts her arm around Cathy’s shoulder and Cathy snuggles into her side.

‘Freaks.’

‘What?’ Cathy tries to take step forward.

‘Don’t.’ Kat grasps her closer to her, keeping her still as the man walks away. ‘It’s not that.’

‘Then what was that?’ It clearly looked like that to Cathy.

‘So…sometimes when me and Mary are out, guys hit on us. Best way to shake them off? Even better than saying we’re girlfriends, since some dudes takes it as an invitation to ask for a threesome? Saying that I’m her stepmother. It tends to weird them out or at least throw them off long enough that we can get away.’

Cathy thinks about it. Mary and Kat are quite close in age and they look like it, so she can see what it would surprise people. ‘Wait…did he think…’

‘That you are Mary’s mom? That or that we’re in some role-play stuff, I guess. That’s why I stopped you from trying to beat him up.’ Kat chuckles at the idea of Cathy, who is even shorter than her, although not by much, squaring up with that guy. ‘It was not because of the gay thing. Also from the smell, he was not exactly sober. I didn’t want you to get hurt.’

‘Awww.’ Cathy coos softly. ‘Still can’t believe you and Mary do that.’

‘Don’t say it like that. You make it sound like something weird.’ Kat steps away, dropping her arm from around Cathy’s shoulder. They both immediately regret the move. ‘Besides it’s the truth. I didn’t lie.’

‘Wouldn’t want to make a liar out of you now, then.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Maybe we could make this a real date? We went to movie. We had dinner…’

‘Yes!’ Kat shouts enthusiastically. ‘Wait! No!’

‘What??’

‘We’re not going to have a first date organised by Mary.’ Cathy relaxes at Kat’s explanation. ‘She’s going to be unsufferable. What about tomorrow? Oh, wait. Creative writing class. Uhm…when do you prefer? I’m sure we could find someone to look after Mae.’

‘What about Wednesday?’

‘Oh, Pasta day at The Tucan! If you’d like it, I mean.’

‘It’s a date.’

They stare at each other smiling until a couple of tipsy girls walk into them.

‘Home?’

‘Yeah.’

They walk side by side, hands brushing against each other. Kat glances down after her hand knocks against Cathy’s harder than usual. ‘Can I…’ she extends her fingers, now lightly tickling the back of Cathy’s hand.

Cathy turns her hand over and takes Kat’s without saying a word. As they keep walking, she twists her hand a bit and entwines their fingers.

‘What?’ Cathy asks with a smile after hearing Kat giggling.

‘It’s just unreal.’ Kat looks at her, beaming with a giddy expression plastered on her face.

‘What? That we watched a breath-taking movie, had dinner together, agreed on a date and we’re now going back home together and all because we were set up by our shared stepdaughter?’

‘I was more thinking about holding your hand and you liking me back, but that too.’

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jae-canikeepyou · 5 years

Text

| cloud nine | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: alternate universe

a/n: agh i really like this request because i’ve seen an edit of him in a pilot’s uniform :< tbh i re-wrote this three times before i was satisfied with it. hope it meets your imagination 💕~j.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

captain jung jaehyun.

once everyone heard that name or saw it on their monthly roasters, whispers of yeses and scoffs of disappointments were normal in the department. some were contented with only being in the same paper as him. and then there were some who were very lucky enough to trail behind him when they made their way to the aircraft.

one time when jaehyun was running late, his existence alone acted as if the entire airport was his own model runway. a little speed walk or even fixing the folds of his sleeve cuffs sent crowds upon crowds trampling over each other about that rumoured hot pilot; taking pictures of him like he was a famous celebrity. people’s comments have spread and hit the articles as well, more frequent and mentioned in any social platform online and it was titled several times.

‘this captain has the visuals to be a celebrity.’

‘captain is a living character out of a manhwa?’

‘a pilot caused a storm at the arrival hall of xxx airport due to his good looks.’

‘mr. viral pilot’s even has a handsome rbf.’

jaehyun gave a forced smile that melted the eyes of his ‘assumed’ fanbase. not again, he thought. it was just a normal gesture to greet them, yet they saw it differently. other than a pool of sakuras and pink hearts, his smile was equivalent to ‘i love you’.

“attaboy jung!” his co-pilot lee seokmin, caught up to him at the departure hall. “do a finger heart next time!”

“don’t reveal my name.” he gestured him to keep quiet. “finger hearts are for idols.”

“i will reveal it because you’re basically a celebrity pilot now. don’t be so stiff, jung” his sunshine smile also caused an uproar after shooting the ladies with many hearts. “it’s simple. just put your thumb and pointer like an x- wait what do you mean for idols? can’t you see how famous you are after that viral picture floating around the country? if you’re not convinced, the world? jaehyun, even the legendary IU agreed you’re attractive-”

seokmin’s words were stopped by jaehyun’s documents in front of his purses lips. he put the blocking papers down with his fingers and still continued with sending finger hearts. “fine. you can reveal my name but not my fanboying side please. and dude i’m having second hand embarrassment right now because of you.” jaehyun gritted his teeth.

“you gotta get used to it.” seokmin said, now doing a heart with his arms.

the crew went through security screening and soon reached the bottom of the flight of stairs connecting to the plane. it was the norm, or maybe not, that the whole crew took a picture before the flight.

jaehyun stood at the middle with seokmin when he noticed a familiar face by his side. based on her side profile, he was sure this was definitely her.

he observed her ever elegant posture; natural make up that wasn’t too heavy, something he always liked. the way her eyelashes flutter due to the wind’s breeze and gosh her gorgeous and gentle smile-

“you’re staring, captain.” you cleared your throat, snapping him out of the trance. a small grin curving by your lips at his aloof response.

“my apologies if i have been rude..” he bent down to whisper, eyes lowering down to see your name slightly on the document paper you were holding. heh, i was right.. “..y/n.”

“if there’s anyone who’s rude..” you trailed off, turning to him face to face now. “..wouldn’t that be you, mr. celebrity?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, referring to the recent articles about the handsome pilot visual. you then twirled still with a small smile as you headed up the flight of stairs.

seokmin nudged the tall male, lips agape at his interaction with you. “wow you just talked with the y/n!” his voice sounding softer than usual. “she’s just new to the airline and everyone has a crush on her. i think i’m falling for her too.”

“you fall for every girl you encounter with, lee.”

as they walked up as well, jaehyun’s eyebrows arched at the compliment seokmin gave you. they took a quick glance at you, now talking with the rest of attendants. it didn’t take long for them to realize that other men were awe-struck by your beauty, just like he did. even the senior attendants seem very smitten whenever you would bring out the enthusiasm from others for the flight. entering the cockpit, the two pilots sat at their seats in preparation for take-off.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ten hours into the flight, you double checked the passengers, wherein you gave assistance, especially those with children.

at the corners of your eyes, you spotted a couple with three kids. and based on other passengers who seemed to not get any sleep or have broad understanding, were bothered with the continuous cries. the parents seemed new and they were ultimately blessed with triplets. two were already a handful for them and the other baby was left slight unattended, so you politely asked to step in to help.

you could feel that mobile phones were directly pointed at you, filming the moment as they planned to maybe make the gesture viral. you pat the baby’s back and managed to make her sleep.

since shifting airlines just four months ago, you were aware of the attention you’ve been getting from other staffs, passengers and even locals. as much as you didn’t want the spotlight onto you, your occupation somehow paved the way.

the parents thanked your service and as you bowed, the chief flight attendant called you to rest. you finally sat at the post where you were assigned at. out of heavy exhaustion, you massaged your neck to sooth the pain away. deciding to freshen up a bit, you used the service cart to block aisle and went to the lavatory before heading to the plane’s upper rest compartment.

the way you twirled around got stuck in jaehyun’s mind. he couldn’t seem to take you out of it. he would close his eyes for awhile and your smile would appear. it got him feeling so giddy to the point he felt his ears heat up.

“is she marked in your heart?” seokmin placed his legs up as the plane was on auto-pilot.

“no not really.” jaehyun said, removing the headphones.

seokmin noticed the fidgety movements jaehyun had been acting since the take-off. it was as if he was itching to leave. “jae, you’ll get your turn to rest, just let me finish my food.” he munched on his sandwich before gesturing his friend to leave.

now that he finally would get his rest, he exited the cockpit with a hammering heart. he wasn’t the type to reveal himself during the flight, but urgently needed to go for a break. other crew reminded him that he should sleep too, given the prominent dark circles around his eyes. as he waited for his turn to use the lavatory, the door slid open revealing you, whom maybe he, or might have growing heart eyes toward you.

your hands held the door as the grip on it tightened at the sight of the captain. you looked to where his hands were and he held the door’s outside handle. his dimples deepened the more he flattened his lips, and he too seemed shocked at your appearance.

even after hours into the flight, he thought you still looked the same like you did at the photo taking. “hi.” he chuckled, obviously feeling a mix of awkwardness and embarrassment in meeting you.

“hello. may i pass through?” you asked, almost taking jaehyun aback at your straight-forward question. the rest of the crew witnessing interaction made them giggle.

“oh, i’m sorry.” he turned his body 90 degree and you shyly nodded for the gesture.

idiot, jaehyun. you’re an idiot. he told himself.

jaehyun went back to the cockpit and retrieved his coat and he soon got down the steep ladder steps, where he spotted you reading a book you were so immersed in. the sleepiness in his eyes were long gone and this time he wanted to have a proper conversation with you. unlike in the previous two short ones where you seemed to brush him off.

you noticed his presence and closed the book, giving them the attention he sought for earlier. he stood opposite to you, leaning against the ladder. “do you have something to tell me?” you asked, placing the book in your bag. “i’m a pretty good listener.”

a smile from you had jaehyun head in the clouds. “oh, well captain lee said you’re new here.” he fixed to loosen his tie and unbuttoned the first bud. “so how long have you been in the airline?”

“i transferred four months ago.” you replied, putting a strand back with a bobby pin.

“i see. no wonder. i was probably busy at the time. lots of schedules and flights here and there. our paths never seemed to cross if you’ve been here that long.” he crossed his arms.

he was hesitant to ask because it would make him look full of himself. screw it anyway. “you’re not one of those who moved airlines just to see me, right?”

his question made you silent. “ i just thought maybe this airline is more suitable for me.” you lied. in fact you moved because you weren’t convinced enough from your co-workers, that this ‘jaehyun’, apparently your ex, could swoon the ladies.

oh heavens, it has been five years. and this man certainly did swoon you and definitely sent your chest aching again, in a good way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the city the airline was designated at filled with bustling people and chirping of the birds. the sun shone as its rays peeked through the little gaps between leaves. traditional music played publicly at the common and main street, some tourists lined up for the city’s landmark. it really seemed like a perfect picture.

you sat down at an outdoor café, legs crossed and memorised the scenery in front. glad that you were blessed with photographic memory and began a quick sketch on the blank paper. as much as you didn’t want to touch your new pocket-sized watercolor painting set, you had to dab the first droplet of water on the tabs.

the faint ash lines soon faded completely at the droplets and as you began to paint the first layer, the paper met a shadow figure that blocked the sun. you looked up to see jung jaehyun; with two coffees in hand, a sunshine smile, perfect dimples and in casual clothes. you didn’t want to make him wait long and invited him to sit with you.

“great day today huh?” he asked, leaning closer to look at what you were doing then shifting his eyes towards you. “it’s.. pretty.”

“thanks, but it’s only the first layer. you’ll see the details after i’m done with the fountain.” you brought up your sketchbook to let him see.

“have you been to the city before?” taking a sip from his cup. you shook your in response, still concentrated on the painting. “c’mon, i’ll tour you around.”

he grabbed your hand and you had no choice but to follow. street stalls filled with souvenirs and its people encouraged their ranges, and jaehyun spotted something that might suit you. it was a necklace. he gestured the man so he could pay for it. taking glances of you and stall, the man waved at him. “sir, this comes in pairs.”

“hm?” his eyes looked at the item. “oh then i’ll get a pair.” he gave the cash and as the man took it, he grinned at jaehyun for his hearty eyes; already catching the purpose of the quick decision.

“it is for the lady, am i right?” he asked.

jaehyun scratched his neck, mentally cursing to himself for being too obvious and transparent. “oh. she’s just- uh, we used to date.” jaehyun chuckled, taking the resin designed necklace in his hands.

“you both look good together.” the man winked like he was about to give the pilot a piece of advice. “she must be that special to be making you feel things.”

“well she still makes me feel i’m in the clouds.” jaehyun looked at you choose an souvenir with furrowed brows. “it’s kinda sad that we didn’t make it like most couples.”

the man’s loud laugh startled jaehyun. “you’re in the city of love. anything can change and anything is possible.”

jaehyun smiled at his remark and left with a contented, little hopeful heart. he went up to you who was still indecisive with the souvenir.

you felt his presence on your right. rising up to see what he was up to, you were shocked at the item he had dangling in his fingers. this certain gesture reminded of your first date; he waved a keychain he won through a carnival stall. you stared into his eyes like you saw the universe in them; the beauty continuously expanding, the stars shining and sparkling when it boasted its twinkles.

the smile on your face faded, but it was quite obvious to jaehyun. he brought down the item and bit his inner gums. “i got this for you.” he chuckled softly, eyes averting from you with reddened ears.

this was strange, awkward, how you both used to be a thing in the past and now meeting each other through work. it just didn’t seem right, to you at least.

“what happened to us?” your sudden question caused jaehyun bent even lower towards your face, sending you to step backwards at his action.

jaehyun knew what you referred to. in fact he asked himself the same question every day since losing contact with you after high school. a small grin curving by his lips disappeared, then mirroring the same expression as you did. “we were both young, carefree. we didn’t know what to prioritise and used each other to make people think differently of us.” he trailed. “we were pretty immature. we just stopped talking after our graduation and distance widened before we had the time to talk it out.” he cracked up slightly, beginning to walk slowly to continue touring you around.

you kinda bursted out in giggles, agreeing to every reason he had just said. the way you saw how much he changed physically and mentally, something in him seemed to draw you closer to him; like you wanted to go back to square one. because all you feel towards him at this very moment was the same as back then.

“couldn’t agree more. we were like those try hard couple goal wannabes that we annoy the heck out of our friends.” you put your hair strands behind your ear. “anyway, i feel the same-” you paused, realizing what you just said.

“uh-huh.” he now looked at you from the map.

“i shouldn’t have said-” you laughed and feeling panicky. the heat creeping from your forehead downwards.

“you mean ‘feel the same like before’ or ‘feel the same as me’?” he asked with a challenging grin. such a tease.

you rolled your eyes at his childish behaviour, not wanting to be caught in his web. “what do you mean by ‘feel the same as me’, hm?” your voice almost breaking to a laugh.

jaehyun inhaled and exhaled sharply because he did not know what else to say. his fingers waving everywhere to look for answers, but to no success, he could only smile awkwardly. you both stared at each other for a while before he spotted some people who recognised him from afar. he grabbed you and went for a run, pulling you with him and led you away from the main circle of the city.

how you wished you wore proper footwear. running with ballet flats on uneven ground brought more discomfort than it did with jaehyun’s company. but as you watched the way how his hair slowed with the wind and his smiling side profile turning towards you, all memories from back then came flooding in like waves. though you didn’t want them to, there wasn’t anything you could do because you knew that somewhere inside the deepest parts in your heart, there was still room for a second chance with him; there was still space for him to fill that missing gap that was left empty before.

now your body was pulled aside at one street, just by the edge of an outdoor neighbourhood home. jaehyun gestured you to keep quiet and he turned slightly to check on them. as you both hid, it was something similar when flynn rider and rapunzel hid from the patrolling royal guards. “remember how we were just like this when we hid from our homeroom teachers?” he asked, crossing his arms in reminisce and a grin from ear to ear.

“of course, it was your idea and we had to mop the whole gymnasium as punishment.” you tiptoed to take a peek behind him. “it’s clear now, let’s go-”

“let me do this for a while.” jaehyun pulled you to him for a hug. “i kind-”

“kinda missed this?” you finished his sentence.

his chuckle tickled your ears as his palms tightened around you. “you took the words right out of my mouth.”

“i know you too well, jae.” you pinched his cheek and he let go of you.

“too well that you figured i’m starting to fall for you again?” he licked his dry lips as he waited for you answer.

you exhaled a breathy air from your nostrils, turning around to walk around the city and giggled internally for leaving him unanswered.

jaehyun scoffed with reddened ears. “should i take that as a yes?”

“whatever you wanna think of, jae.”

he recalled what the salesman said. maybe something will change in this city of love and your words just now created a ray of hope in the sky. this inexplainable anticipation he felt in his chest got him realizing that, yeah, he actually, still is in love with you.

—

you bowed to the last batch passengers exiting the plane with jaehyun and seokmin on your side, along with other crew. finally on the way to arrival hall, all you wanted was to feel the soft sheets of your bed. grabbing your luggage, you slowed down your pace knowing that jaehyun was behind.

jaehyun’s hand laid on your shoulders, catching his breath slightly. “i’ll meet you at the carpark.” he bent down to a whisper.

“and what makes you think i’ll agree with your request?” you hummed, legs dragging your exhausted self to the walkalator.

“i’m gonna make my signature marinated spicy fried pork. i know you miss that.” he winked.

“mhm.” you singsonged, “more than i miss you.”

he groaned like a child and you could tell he purposely whined in a persuasive tone. “join me for dinner at least.” he nudged that you were lightly shoved to side, creating imbalance on your feet.

“fine i will.” you rolled your eyes as he cheered in soft ‘yeses’. “in one condition though.”

jaehyun lifted a brow at your habit and he should’ve seen it coming. “what is it?”

“live cooking. i’ll sit by your breakfast table, observing how you cut and hold the onions wrongly. i don’t want you to make me wait elsewhere of your apartment.”

“i didn’t invite you just so i could be bickered by you.” he held your head, sending vibrations for a second before you poked his armpits. “ow! okay you’ll get the live cooking in one condition, alright?”

you continued to walk towards the arrival hall, already noticing banners of jaehyun’s name and long lenses of cameras pointed at your direction. “that’s my word, but fine. what’s your condition, captain?”

a large hand find its way to interlock yours, then bringing it up to be visible to the public. “a pilot and a flight attendant dating.” his wink caused you to fluster in all sorts and now you were aware of the cameras. “it’d be a good topic, wouldn’t it?”

his lips seemed to inch closer towards you but it wasn’t a kiss since he refrained himself from doing so. your heart stopped for a moment before a certain camera flash blinked in front of the both of you, later hearing a voice of the photographer asking his mates to name the newsletter;

“captain jung is on cloud nine with y/f/n.”

#nct 127 #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct #nct jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fanfics #jaehyun au #jaehyun oneshot

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moongazer606 · 4 years

Text

Who Are You Calling Old? Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1914

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Summary: Part two!! It’s been a few weeks, but you finally have another run-in with Bucky at the bar.

Part One

Tags: @palaiasaurus64 @thenewlarislynn @calspalkira

In an effort to not feel like a stalker, you decided to actively avoid looking up Bucky Barnes online. You didn’t want to see any paparazzi photos of him and the other Avengers, you didn’t want to know which small country they had saved now, or what restaurants they were visiting or what clothes they were seen buying. You just wanted Bucky to be the cute guy you had maybe kind of flirted with at the bar a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t seen him, or Captain America, at the bar since. A small part of you missed him. Or at least missed being able to glance over at him as you played darts with your friends. He was easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. You supposed if you did happen to look him up, you’d find some explanation for his absence. Maybe the Avengers had moved back down to New York City, or maybe he was in Europe somewhere. However, no matter how tempted you were, you never did look him up.

Every so often Jess would catch you scanning the bar for the man and tease you. None of your other friends really knew about your interaction with the celebrity. It had only been a brief encounter really, yet somehow, almost a month later you were still thinking about him.

It was just another Friday night. You and your friends had already been here for a few hours and you were many drinks in. Your cheeks were flushed and you were laughing a little too hard at everyone’s jokes. You were standing with your friends, your gin and tonic in one hand, and a dart in the other. You had just thrown your first two darts and were lining up to take your last shot.

Just as you released the dart, Jess leaned in and whispered in your ear, “Don’t look now but someone is checking you out from the bar.”

Before the dart had even met its mark, you whipped around to look for him. Your eyes landed on him almost immediately. He was sitting on the same stool at the bar, though this time he was turned to face the dartboards, his elbows back on the bartop.

“I told you not to look!” Jess hissed.

You were too busy smiling at Bucky to notice Jess now. You turned around briefly to check that your last dart had hit center before announcing you were going for another drink. You heard Jess suggest that maybe you had had enough to drink, but you just kept walking.

Bucky’s eyes were on you the whole way as you focused very hard on not tripping in the heels you were wearing. While you walked you realized that he had his hair pulled back tonight with the barest hint of 5 o’clock shadow. No matter what, you’d find him attractive, you thought. Especially because with his hair back it gave you an even better view of those steel blue eyes. When you got to the bar, you hopped up on the stool next to him and he turned to face the bartop.

“What’s a girl gotta do to buy you a drink?” you asked with a grin.

“And here I was going to buy you one,” he smiled back, crooked and boyish.

You scoffed jokingly. “So old fashioned. This is the 21st century you know, old man.”

“Do men in the 21st century usually buy drinks for girls who haven’t introduced themselves first?” You could see him smiling into his glass as he took a sip of the clear liquid.

“Might I point out you haven’t introduced yourself either? In fact, the first time you spoke to me you were making fun of my drink order.”

He turned his body slightly to face you, and held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky.”

“I know,“ you smirked, putting your hand in his. His hand absolutely dwarfed yours, somehow making you feel even smaller next to the super soldier.

“And yet I still don’t know your name.”

You thought about teasing him some more, but decided to just introduce yourself instead. He gave your hand a solid shake, repeating your name out loud. You liked the way it sounded in his deep timbre.

At that moment, Max finally made his way over to the pair of you. It took your alcohol muddled mind a moment to realize you still had your hand in Bucky’s. You quickly snatched it away and turned to smile at Max.

“Another gin and tonic, please,” Bucky ordered. You were about to protest when he nodded his head towards you, continuing, “And for the lady?”

“I think it’s time I switched to water, Max. Thank you.”

As soon as Max was out of ear shot you turned back to Bucky, giving him a shit eating grin as you leaned your chin on your fist. He looked at you before facing forward again. “What, doll?”

“I thought only old people drank gin these days,” you mimicked his words from the night you met.

Before he could answer, Jess came up to you. You could tell she was trying to remain perfectly casual in Bucky’s presence, her eyes darting to him every so often, as she told you they were all going to head out. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“Max is bringing me a water as we speak, I’ll be just fine, Jess.” You saw her eyes dart to Bucky again. “Bucky, this is Jess. Jess, this is Bucky,” you quickly introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Bucky told her as they shook hands. You noted that their handshake was significantly shorter than the one you had shared.

For a moment you thought Jess was going to say something more to him but instead she turned back to you, gave you a quick hug, and went to rejoin the rest of your friends where they waited near the door. You raised your hand in farewell before they all filed out.

When you turned back around, you noticed that Max had brought your drinks. You took a few large gulps of your water before spinning in the stool so you were fully facing Bucky. “So?” you prompted.

“Still on me about the gin?” he questioned taking a sip of it.You nodded your head with a grin. “I know you know who I am now. Which means you also know I wasn’t lying when I said I was old and didn’t look it- unlike some people.”

“You have to admit it tastes better than a scotch and soda though, right?”

“It sure does,” he winked, raising his class to you. You gently bumped your water glass against his, before you both drained their contents. When he called Max over you thought he was going to order another round, but instead he paid both his tab and yours.

“I was supposed to be buying you a drink!” you protested.

“Maybe next time, doll,” he assured you, tossing a few extra bills on the bartop for good measure. You raised your eyebrows at the prospect of a “next time”. “Let’s get you home.”

“I live just down the road,” you told him as you both stood from the stools.

“Let me walk you. It’s late.”

He gave you a crooked smile that you couldn’t help but return with a nod. As you both made your way to the door, he gently guided you with a hand at the small of your back. Once outside, he pulled his hand away, but stayed close beside you. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him and part of you wished he’d touch you again. Between the water and the cool night air, your head was starting to clear a bit.

Even in your heels you had to tilt your head up to look at him. You could see him scanning the surrounding area as you walked in a comfortable silence. At this time of night there was no one else around. You had never felt unsafe walking home from the bar, but it was nice to have the security of a hulking super soldier next to you.

Your apartment, which was above a place that claimed to buy and sell gold, was only a few blocks from Shade’s, and you were there faster than you wanted to be. You stopped in front of the door that led up to your apartment, and turned to face Bucky.

“Thank you for walking me back.”

As you looked up at him now, alone on the empty street, the only light came from a nearby streetlamp and a neon sign in the shop window. You became hyper-aware of just how alone the two of you were now, and just how quiet the street was after the bustle of the bar. You could hear Bucky’s shoes scrape on the pavement as he took a hesitant step towards you.

He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and then left his hand there to cup your jaw. Without thinking you took a step forward, closing the distance between you. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself as he brought his lips down to yours. The kiss was gentle and soft, like he was afraid of breaking you. He pulled back after just a moment, those steel blue eyes meeting yours. Your eyes flicked down to his lips before making eye contact once more.

That seemed to be the only que he needed before leaning back in for another kiss. He seemed more sure of himself now, your lips moving together in perfect sync. He wrapped his arms securely around your waist as you clung to his shoulders. This time when he pulled away you were both breathless and grinning. You rested your foreheads together as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for weeks,” you admittedly shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You felt more than heard him chuckle. “Yeah, me too, doll.”

After a few more moments you let go of each other so you could fish your keys out of your purse.

“I’d invite you up, but I don’t think your old fashioned sensibilities would allow it,” you joked as your shaking hands managed to unlock the door. You turned back to face him.

“I’ve got work in the morning anyway, but maybe we can grab dinner sometime this week?” he asked, a little bashful. “I’ll even let you pay if you want.”

Having a sudden thought, you reached your hand back into your purse, pulling out a Sharpie. You held your hand out expectantly to him. He looked a bit confused before placing his hand in yours. As neat as you could, you scrawled your number on his forearm. “Call me sometime and we’ll set it up.”

He gave your hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Alright. Well goodnight, doll.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

With a grin, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to walk back in the direction of the bar. When he was about a block away he turned and raised a hand in farewell. You did the same before finally going inside. You were still grinning like an idiot as you climbed into bed and fell asleep.

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coppicefics · 3 years

Photo

Masked Omens: Week Five

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 23rd January 2021. Full image description and transcript below cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

The Capital Herald - Saturday, 23rd January 2021 Entertainment, page 15

Top section: Stream of Consciousness: Shows To Make You Think A whole host of great documentaries, old and new, have just been added to streaming services Who doesn't love a good documentary? You can learn all sorts of things, and you don't have to do any of the research for yourself. Over the last couple of weeks, loads of people seem to have been tuning into the wealth of documentaries available on various streaming services; here are a few I particularly enjoyed. Green Planet (2020) is not your standard nature documentary; while there are some extremely cute shots of animals (including gorillas, whales, and giant squid) the main focus is on sustainable practices people are experimenting with in all sorts of industries and contexts, and the way they allow local wildlife to flourish. It's thought-provoking stuff. We're As Folk (2019) takes a look at the contemporary folk movement, interviewing figures from the second British revival right through to the present day; contributors include Seth Lakeman, Frank Turner, Anathema and Bellowhead. With folk-festival anecdotes aplenty, the documentary explores the intricacies of the genre and culminates in all the contributors performing a once-in-a-lifetime rendition of 'She Moved Through The Fair'. Gadget If You Can (2015) might be a little outdated now, but that's what makes it such a compelling watch. From watches that tell the time in 21 capital cities concurrently to hoverboards that actually, well, hover, this is a fascinating look at the new devices that seemed to be just on the horizon when it was released more than five years ago. Some have since appeared; some remain pipedreams. All are interesting! Making Fast Friends (2012) is the oldest documentary on this list, and the narrowest in scope. It was released alongside the SEGA charity single 'Fast Friends' and gives us a behind the scenes look at what happened when Sonic the Hedgehog teamed up with a whole bunch of children's TV presenters to make the record. Although largely factual in nature, it does also feature animated 'interviews' with Sonic and Knuckles, so it's entirely suitable for watching with your family. And P-White fans, in particular, will not want to miss this a second time around. A War Without War (2021), by contrast, is both up-to-the-minute and extremely disturbing to watch. It is composed of a mixture of expert analysis of the situation developing on the ground in Celestan and grim footage allegedly smuggled out of the country by fleeing residents. Moreover, with more episodes promised, it forces the viewer to acknowledge what is happening as the country breaks apart, and asks us the difficult question: can you have a war without war? Dinosaurs: The Punchline (2013) is frequently mistaken for a mockumentary thanks to its tongue-in-cheek title. It is, in fact, a thoughtful exploration of how religious groups respond to apparent conflicts between scientific facts and the tenets of their faith. Without shying away from the realities of science as we know it, this film takes a surprisingly sensitive approach to investigating how science and religion intersect in the modern world. By The Numbers (2018) looks back at the history of the televised National Lottery, along with its competitors on other channels and the entertainment chosen to appear directly after it. Featuring clips and interviews with stars from Marjorie Potts aka Telepathic Tracy, whose show aired after the draw for over a decade, to Marvin O. Bagman, whose sports-based quiz show had, at the time of the documentary’s release, the corresponding Channel 4 slot. It’s not groundbreaking, but it is very entertaining. CITRON DEUX-CHEVAL Have I missed any amazing documentaries you think I should be talking about? Drop me an email at [email protected] or leave a comment on our website and I might feature your recommendations in a future issue.

Centre left: Memory Lane: Kilcridhe Now there’s a vicar I’d have loved to meet at the altar Ask any male-attracted person of a certain age – well, my age and up, really – if they remember Kilcridhe, and you'll be met with flushed cheeks and a glassy expression. We remember Kilcridhe, all right – or perhaps it would be fairer to say that we remember Father Jacob MacCleod. It's hard to believe that heartthrob Jacob was Anthony Crowley's first major role on television, and harder still to believe that he was also one of his last. The show ran for only two six-episode series, between 2005 and 2006, but in those twelve hours I think it's fair to say a fair few of us fell irrevocably in love. Kilcridhe was named for the fictitious Scottish village where it was set, and largely revolved around the goings-on of the local church and its new minister. Much of the series' drama centred around Father MacCleod's ongoing attempts to fill the pews, which saw him trying everything from hosting a bake sale – for which he ended up baking everything himself – to arranging a community talent show, with predictably bizarre results. But during the course of these adventures, each episode also introduced us to one or more of Kilcridhe's residents. We got a glimpse into the little struggles and joys of their lives – most of which quickly became Jacob's struggles and joys, too. My main memory of this show is that it was pretty. Not just Jacob, but everything about it, from the location they chose for the exterior shots, to the tone added in post-production; everything was just slightly more saturated and colourful than real life, not enough to be jarring but enough to give the whole thing a strangely dreamlike feel. In fact, as Jacob remarked as he prepared to leave for Edinburgh at the end of series one (not knowing if he would return or if the show would be cancelled), “leaving [Kilcridhe] feels like waking from a dream, like going back to reality somehow”. It was, perhaps, for the best that Kilcridhe was cancelled after only two series. Shows originally envisioned as limited series rarely keep their charm past a second extension, and the central actor was to encounter personal problems not long after the end of the show. That's not to say that a revival couldn't work, perhaps with a completely new protagonist. But Father Jacob MacCleod lives on in the hearts of his many fans, smiling that enigmatic smile of his, and when that's not enough, there's always online fanfiction. So much fanfiction. SARAH JEUNE Memory Lane is our regular feature, looking back at the books, shows and films of yesteryear through a nostalgic lens. Do you miss something you’d like to see featured? Just send the show name (plus channel and airdates if you know them) in an email to: [email protected] - your prayers might just be answered!

Centre right: Correspondent’s Corner Stop talking about it Anathema is making waves again as she does the talk-show circuit to promote her new album, Narrative Devices. It's a very pretty album from a very lovely girl, but she does keep getting hung up on one point. Every time somebody describes her music as country, she interrupts to tell them it's folk. Well, I'm no music expert, but even I know that folk is a very European genre, and the United States' equivalent is country, or country and western music, to give it its full name, and to continue to argue to the contrary is simply courting controversy for controversy's sake. It is unbecoming of a young lady – even, or perhaps especially, a young lady with Anathema's obvious talent – to continue to argue with her elders on the subject, and even to correct the likes of Graham Norton and Giles Brandreth. These sage bastions of broadcasting deserve more respect, and they couldn't be more gracious in accepting their 'mistake'. But surely a young musician in the first flush of success should take the time to learn about what she's actually doing? It doesn't seem very much to ask. It’s not entirely her fault, of course; the youth of today are given far too much freedom by their parents and, on top of that, are often propelled to disproportionate success with no chance to prepare for it. Is it any wonder that it all goes to their heads? But there is no excuse for not making an effort to keep their egos in check and defer to their betters on matters of terminology and best practice. Naturally, we all hope that Anathema will enjoy a long and successful career making the music she enjoys the most and , more importantly, music we can all enjoy too. And I also hope that she will, eventually, acquire the humility so rarely found in young people these days and accept that she does not always know best. If she listens to the counsel of older and wiser heads than hers, she might even learn something. ANDY SANDALPHON What can’t they do? If there's one thing that's becoming apparent with every passing week of The Masked Singer UK, it's that celebrities are no longer to content to stay in their lane. No, these multi-talented marvels seem determined to push themselves to the limit in every possible field. So far, we’ve seen sergeants become singers, rugby players become rockers, doctors become divas and authors become, er, audible. And with weeks still to go in this competition, we still have eight masked celebrities to guess. Eight people whose day jobs probably don’t include getting on stage and belting out pop standards are still waiting to impress us with talents that aren’t even their thing. I mean, if I could sing and dance like the contestants on the show, you can bet your life I’d be making a living from it. It would be my number one talent, and I’d be rubbish at anything else, because most of us only get one main skill. Not these jammy gits, though. For them, this is a sideline. It's not just The Masked Singer, of course – from proving their talent for trivia on Pointless Celebrities and their wordplay wisdom on Celebrity Catchphrase to demonstrating their culinary qualities on Celebrity Masterchef and The Great Celebrity Bake Off, it seems that wherever you look someone is adding a new string to their bow. Being a phenomenally talented actor, singer, or footballer is all well and good, but more and more stars are now keen to show us that they really can do anything and everything. And why shouldn't they? It's phenomenally entertaining television to watch. And for those of us who sometimes feel inadequate compared to our famous idols, it can be very reassuring to watch, for example, a comedian weeping into his cupcake mix on Bake Off or an Oscar nominee fall on her face on Dancing On Ice. When they do well, it's amazing; when they do badly, it's life-affirming. That said, I've been blown away by the talent of the contestants on The Masked Singer this series. It's so inspirational, in fact, that I might take up watercolours. EDWARD BIGGS Bottom right (in blue box): Citron’s Quick Picks Fast favourites from Citron Deux-Cheval Look: Sea Change by Hastur LaVista There's never been a journey to to the top quite like P-White's. This authorised biography charts a course from children's presenter to global superstar through interviews, pictures and anecdotes. While the research sometimes seems a little slapdash, the story at the heart of the book is more than interesting enough to hold it together. And since it's authorised, Maputi themself has contributed plenty of private insights and observations. [Image description: A book, its cover featuring a blue-green gradient with black, dripping lines spilling across it. The title reads ‘Sea Change’. End ID.] Listen: Narrative Devices by Anathema Anathema's first album was well-received both within the folk community and beyond it. Now her second album, backed up by an obvious increase in resources, looks set to enjoy similar mainstream success, and deservedly so. The theme this time seems to be the act of telling stories, but it's also a story in itself. You'll have heard the singles, but it takes on new meaning when you play it in order! [Image description: An album cover featuring hands holding a book. The words “Anathema” and “Narrative Devices” are printed on it. End ID.] Laugh: Newtral Stance by AutoTuna on YouTube It's not the first time beleaguered commentator Newton Pulsifer has had his words edited into a supercut. It's not even the first time his frequent disagreements with the VAR have been autotuned – including by YouTube user AutoTuna. But this new edition adds an extra dimension in the form of a flat, robotic voice duetting – and duelling – with the frustrated human, taking the hilarity to a whole new level! [Image description: A screenshot of a young woman wearing a call centre headset (specifically, the woman who cold-calls Crowley in Good Omens and gets Hastur instead). She looks extremely bored. End ID.]

Advertisement, bottom right: IS THIS YOUR CARD? [Image Description: Two business cards with a white-to-yellow gradient, overlapping so that they are slightly fanned out. Printed on the left-hand side of each is ‘This is to certify The Amazing [blank] as a [blank] training under Mr A.Z. Fell.‘ The one behind is filled in with ‘Your Name-’ and ‘Sorcer-’. The front card is filled in in a more child-friendly font, with ‘Your Name Here’ and ‘Junior Magician’. Below this is space for a start and expiry date, filled in with ‘08/20′ and ‘08/21′ respectively. On the right-hand side of the card, a logo shows a rabbit emerging from an upturned top hat, and below it are the words ‘Harry’s Junior Magic Academy’. The word ‘Junior’ is in the same child-friendly font as before. End ID.] IT COULD BE. Membership is open to under 12s and 13-18 year-olds at www.harrys-magic.com

End of transcript.

#masked omens #mo week five #very much fake news #good omens fic

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years

Text

Love Me Anyway - Tyler Seguin - Part 2

Word Count: 2463

POV: Both (starts with reader then switches to Tyler)

Warnings: Language

Notes: Alright so here is the second part to my first every writing attempt. Glad you guys enjoyed the first part. Happy reading! Peace, Love and Hugs all!

Pic credit:

READER POV

"Do you know who you were just talking to?" your friend Becca asked.

"Tyler fucking Seguin that's who!" Jenna blurted out.

"OMG he is sooooo sexy!" Mimi said dreamily.

"Yeah, he spilled water on me……Twice" your hand was wet from when he took hold of your wrist. You somehow just realized that.

"So why are you here talking to us," Jenna asked.

"Guys, its Tyler Seguin, king of one night stands. He literally has women falling in his lap with their mouths open" you chuckled. Taking your fist and making like you were sucking on an air dick. Everyone burst out laughing. Once you caught your breath you continued, "seriously, I'm not out for just a roll in the hay. I want something more than that. I'm not going to say I'll find it here tonight. I just know that he's not the type to settle for just one woman."

Just then you saw Mimi's boyfriend Bryan come grab her around the waist. He dipped his lips down to kiss her on the neck. It was so adorable, considering he was like over a foot taller than her. "Hey ladies" he greeted the rest of you.

"I thought this was a girl's night Mimi" Becca questioned.

"Yeah, no boys allowed," you teased Bryan.

"Back off bitches" he taunted back. "I can't help it, I missed my woman."

That right there, that's what you wanted. A guy that wanted to be around you, the same way Bryan always wanted to be with Mimi even after they'd been together for 3 years. It was something you and Kyle never really had. Well maybe in the beginning, but it had faded away quickly. You looked over and saw that Bryan had come with his friends Derek and Chris. Derek was great and you were pretty sure Jenna had the hots for him. From the looks he was giving her, the feeling was mutual. They'd make a cute pair. Chris however; he creeped you out. He always felt like he was undressing you with his eyes. It wasn't something that just you thought either. You, Jenna and Becca, had talked about it before.

"Alright, enough of this lovey-dovey shit. I came here to party. Let's hit the dance floor." You urged grabbing Becca's hand and heading out to dance.

The dance floor was crowded but you didn't mind. You guys all started grooving around to the music, drinks in hand. You were singing along with the words and moving to the beat when you felt Chris grind up behind you. You were trying to move away nonchalantly when you felt him grab your hips and pull you back against him, moving his hands to the front of your shorts. You took your free hand and moved him away, but that didn't deter him. He just did it again. You only noticed then that your friends were swallowed up in the crowd away from you. You could feel his erection against you and were repulsed by it. You pulled at his hands to move off you, dropping your glass in the process. Which only made Chris pull you harder against him.

"Come on (Y/N), you know you want it" he breathed against your ear.

"Get off me you creep" you spat back at him.

It was then, that you heard a low growl. "Let her go, or you'll have to deal with me."

You turned as Chris's grip eased on you to see Tyler, grabbing the back of his neck.

"What the fuck man?" Chris yelled. "I wasn't doing anything."

You rolled your eyes stepping fully away from Chris. You could see the anger emanating off of Tyler. He was just waiting for Chris to say something stupid so he could beat the shit out of him. Part of you wanted to let him, but that wasn't good for anyone. You lightly touched Tyler's arm causing him to look at you. His dark brown eyes softened. "I could really use a drink," you said to him. He let go of Chris and grabbed your hand leading you off the dance floor to the bar.

Once you got there Tyler didn't let go of your hand. "Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Thanks for stepping in though. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem. So what can I get ya?"

"Oh, you don't need to get me a drink. I just figured it was a way to get out of there."

"Honestly (Y/N) I think we both need a drink after that."

You chuckled and told him what you wanted. He turned to the bartender, who an hour ago you were drooling over; but right now you didn't even know he existed. "So, we were never officially introduced. I'm Tyler," he said.

"Um…yeah I know" you replied. "I knew who you were before."

"Really? So you just dismiss every guy that tries to be nice to you and buy you a drink?"He enquired.

It was your turn to blush now. "Sorry I wasn't trying to be rude. It's just….." you let your voice trail off, not really knowing how to put into words everything that was going through your mind.

He raised an eyebrow at you quizzically urging you to continue. You lifted your head up hoping for divine guidance but knowing that you weren't going to find any. So you just blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. "I'm just not the one-night stand type of girl." Phew, you said it. Just like that. It kind of all seemed like one word as it came out in a rush and you hoped you didn't offend him further after he'd just rescued your ass from that dickhead Chris.

He smirked at you. "And you think I'm the one-night stand type of guy?"

Just then your drinks came. You took a big gulp, looking for some liquid courage and then proceeded. "Well…..ummm…."

Tyler stopped your suffering by saying "Look I get it, I have a reputation and sometimes not a good one, but I'm not that guy that they paint me out to be in online chats and stuff. I mean I was. It's just….."

This time it was you that stopped him. "I get it too. Don't believe everything you read. I'm sorry I labeled you into that box. How about we start the night over?"

"Gladly" he sighed.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N)," you held out your hand for him to shake.

"Nice to meet you (Y/N), I'm Tyler. So you come here often?"

You both bust out laughing. You knew he had said it on purpose, but you had to say "You really have no game do you?"

"Apparently not around you," he chuckled.

TYLER'S POV

You moved back to your circle of friends, still somewhat stunned by your encounter with (Y/N). Did she feel that same spark you did? You needed to know more, but first, you needed a plan. You'd really fucked up that first meeting with her and you were not going to do that again.

You sat back amongst your friends watching (Y/N)'s every move, not paying any attention to those around you. You saw some guys walk in and had to wonder if one of them was her boyfriend or maybe fiancée. You hadn't noticed a ring but then you really never looked down to check either. They all seemed very friendly with each other. She laughed at something the really tall guy said; you were immediately jealous that he got to hear her laugh and not you. They seemed to chat a bit and then headed out to the dance floor. Maybe you should head there? Start casually dancing with her. Show her some moves. Oh hell, who were you kidding? You didn't really have any great dance moves.

You continued to watch her body move to the music when you saw one of her male friends start to dance up behind her. He seemed to be pulling her away from the rest of the group. Because you were so laser-focused on her, you saw her hand trying to brush him away. You didn't realize you were standing up walking towards the dance floor until you saw a slightly panicked expression on her face. It seemed like she was miles away. You saw her struggle against the scumbag again this time dropping her drink in an effort to get away from him. He was whispering something to her and she looked repulsed. You could feel the anger bubbling up inside you. You finally made it to her, grabbing the guy by the back of the neck and telling him to let her go. All you wanted to do was just punch him in the face. You weren't really known for your hockey fighting skills, but right now you could lay this guy flat out in a second. Then she touched you. That soft caress bringing you out of all the anger that was seething inside you. It was all you needed. You knew she was safe. She looked at you, her hand still on your arm and said. "I could really use a drink." You let the douchebag go and slid your hand down to entwine with hers, leading her to the bar.

You officially introduced yourself, finding out that your initial instincts were right. She did know who you were, which therein lies the problem. Your past. God, it came back to haunt you so many times. You'd made some dumb decisions in your life and right now you were regretting every one of them. All you wanted was a chance right now to show her you weren't always that guy. The one that slept around, that deep down inside you were craving to find that one person, just like everyone else. But it was hard to say all that. Thankfully she understood the direction in which you were going and offered to start the night all over again.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N)," she held out her hand and so you took it.

"Nice to meet you (Y/N), I'm Tyler" and then you added the one thing sure to make her laugh. "So come here often?" you asked with a wink. You both laughed and from there, things went so much smoother.

You talked about your dogs, Cash, Marshall and Gerry. She told you what she did for a living, and that she loved music. You found out that she was a hockey fan but she didn't really question you a whole lot about it. She was more interested in what you did in your spare time. You told her about fishing at the lake in the summer and how the dogs loved to swim. She mentioned how she planned on getting a dog soon, but that she traveled a lot for work.

"You should come over and meet the boys. They love any attention they can get."

"Hmmm, guess they got that from their dad" she teased.

"Hey now, nothing wrong with getting a little attention. Especially if it's coming from you," you flirted back.

(Y/N) blushed a little. It was really attractive on her. You two kept up a light conversation for a while, but then someone bumped her as they were trying to get a drink at the bar, making her off balance. You instinctively reached for her waist to steady her; as her hands came to rest on your chest. She felt so right in your arms; almost like she was made for you. You were staring into her eyes and then your eyes traveled down to her mouth. All you wanted to do was kiss her. You had to know if she tasted as perfect as she felt. Your heart was beating out of your chest, she could probably feel it under her palm. You'd never been this nervous to kiss someone in your life. You tilted your head slowly.

"TTTTTYYYYYLLLLLEEERR" you heard Mike slur in your ear as he grabbed your shoulder, causing (Y/N) to step out of your arms. God, he was going to pay for ruining this. "Afterparty at yyooouurr house. EEEvverryyyone is going nowwww." Mike was drunk, it was obvious and the blonde hanging on his arm was no better. You rolled your eyes. This is not where you saw the rest of the night going. Normally you were up for any kind of party at your place, but tonight, all you wanted to do was go huddle up in a corner with the girl in front of you and learn more about her. Knowing Mike he already had half the party at your house pulling beers from the fridge.

"Give me a minute," you told Mike.

Mike looked over at (Y/N) "you should coommmee tooooo."

"Yes, you should. Save me from these drunks," you said. "I don't know if I can deal with this guy's shit all night."

"Ummm...Thanks for the offer, but I should probably get back with my friends." (Y/N) answered back.

"They should come too. Well except for that one scumbag."

"I don't know…" She was trying to make an excuse and you wouldn't let her get away again.

"You never know until we ask them. Come on I'll go over with you. Go grab an Uber and I'll meet you out front." you told Mike. With that, you and (Y/N) started towards her friends.

"Hey guys, this is Tyler," she said.

You held your hand out to shake everyone's hand as she introduced you. Luckily the guy, whose face you still wanted to punch; wasn't there.

"So we're having a little after-party at my house. I was just telling (Y/N) you guys should come."

The girls all looked at her, while the 2 guys were already saying "sure." You could tell she was hesitant. She looked back at her friends and then finally answered. "If you guys want to….then sure, let's go."

You hadn't realized you were holding your breath until she said she would come. "Excellent. Did you guys drive or….."

You didn't get to finish that sentence when her friend Mimi blurted out "no we can just uber there."

"I just need your address," (Y/N) said looking up at you as she grabbed her phone. She handed it over to you and you quickly put in all your information. You also shot yourself a quick text so you'd have her number.

"We'll just finish our drinks and settle our tab," you heard Jenna say.

"Great I'll see you guys shortly" you replied. You bent your head to (Y/N)'s ear and whispered, "see you soon beautiful." With that, you turned to go meet your own Uber.

#Love Me Anyway Series #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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blurry-fics · 4 years

Text

Between the Lines

Pairing: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2209

Request: a bookstore fic where they meet reaching for the same book orrrrr they’re both too into their books that they aren’t looking and run into each other. idc as long as they’re in a powell’s living their best lives 😪 -@blackbeanietyler

Author’s Note: For anyone who doesn’t know what Powell’s is, it’s a bookstore in Portland, Oregon (where I’m from) that has all sorts of used and new books (and I highly recommend going if you ever have the chance). Anyway, I really enjoyed writing Tyler as a book nerd and I hope you enjoy it too :) (picture credit)

Your arm started to ache as you walked down the steps that led to the fiction section. Although your original plan had only been to stop in the bookstore to pick up a new release from your favorite author, you had inevitably ended up finding three additional novels that you wanted to take home. Before you knew it, you had spent the better part of the stormy afternoon wandering through aisles of books before even finding what you had come for.

You managed to find an unoccupied bench nestled between a couple of bookshelves where you could sit down and let your tired arms rest for a bit. Not wanting to be in the way, you tucked your knees up to your chest and leaned against the side of the shelf, keeping your books safe in your lap. You had managed to snag a special edition of your favorite book for a good price and you didn’t want to risk losing or damaging it. People hardly even gave you a second glance as you rested on the bench; it was a common occurrence to find someone who had been nestled in a corner for hours reading a book that they had still yet to purchase.

When the circulation had finally returned to your arm and you felt ready to venture down the aisles once again, you got up, collected your things, and started your slow crawl along the shelves. Sure, you knew the author of the book you were looking for, but what was the fun of being in a bookstore if you didn’t also look at what else they had to offer? You would get to the book you needed eventually.

A couple other people were hovering around the section you needed to get to, so you hung back for a little while until they eventually walked away. You didn’t really feel like pushing through a crowd of people, even if you knew exactly what you needed. Thankfully, they only stuck around for a minute or so before growing bored and moving on to the next shelf. After a final adjustment of the books already in your arms, you made your move and started to reach for what happened to be the last copy of the novel.

Unfortunately for you, someone else had the same idea.

Your hand brushed against the stranger’s before either of you were actually able to reach the book. Embarrassed, you recoiled your hand and tried to make peace with the fact that you had missed out on a fresh copy of a novel that you had been looking forward to reading for months. At least you would be able to order a copy online.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were going for the same book,” they said.

You turned to face the stranger, not having expected them to actually talk to you. Most of the people you encountered in bookstores were more than willing to keep to themselves, or steal a last copy away from someone else.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “You can have it, if you want.”

“You should take it, I insist.”

You took a moment to get a good look at the stranger. He couldn’t have been much older than you, a year or two at most, though the deep bags under his eyes made him look older. The hood on his sweatshirt was pulled up nearly to his ears, casting shadows over his thin face and nearly blending into the mess of dark hair on top of his head. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he just rolled out of bed. You also took note of the fact that he was only carrying a couple other smaller books in his arms.

“I really don’t think I need another book,” you said, holding up the stack in your arms for emphasis. “You should take it.”

“The only thing that tells me is that you’re a more avid reader than I am, so by all means you should take it,” he smiled. He had a nice smile.

“I’m really not going to take a book that someone else wants. I can just come back in a few weeks when they get the next shipment in. I live close. Please, just take the book.”

“You’re from around here?”

“Are you not?” you asked.

The stranger shook his head. “I’m in a band. We’re currently on tour, which is why I’m even here. All my friends were saying that I needed to check this place out if I had a chance and I figured it was a good opportunity to pick up some books for the road.”

“So what you’re saying is that you really should be the one to keep the book,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” he laughed. “That’s not why I brought it up.”

“I know, I know,” you smiled. “But still, it really doesn’t matter if I wait a little longer to get it. Like I said, I have all these books to keep me busy until I can get my hands on a copy.”

“Ok, what if I make you a deal?”

“I’m listening.”

“You can have this copy of the book if you pick out a different book for me.”

“You want me to pick out a book for you?”

“Yeah.”

“What if I have terrible taste in books?” you laughed.

He laughed along with you, “I looked at the books you’re carrying and I can assure you that you don’t have bad taste in books.”

“And I can pick out any book for you?”

“Yep.”

“Deal,” you smiled, holding out a hand.

The stranger shifted his books to one side before reaching out and shaking your hand. Your mind was already running over an endless list of potential books you could give to this stranger.

“I’m Tyler, by the way,” he said as he pulled his hand away.

“Y/N,” you said, trying to ignore the newfound sense of nervousness you felt after shaking his hand. “So, I’m going to go grab the book real quick. Are you going to stick around here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in this aisle or the next.”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll hold onto this until you get back,” he said, grabbing the last copy of the book. “Just to make sure you hold up your half of the deal.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And how do I know you’ll hold up yours and not just run off with the copy of the book?”

He held the book over his heart, “You have my word, Y/N.”

“Alright,” you said. Before he had a chance to see the dorky grin on your face at his cute remark, you turned and quickly walked out of the aisle.

After some thinking, you had decided to give him a copy of your favorite book in hopes that he hadn’t already read it. Even if he had, maybe he would enjoy rereading it as much as you did. You shook your head, hardly believing the thoughts that were running through your head. How had you gotten yourself into this position, picking out a copy of your favorite book for a complete stranger?

Not a stranger. Tyler.

The mere thought of his name was enough to make your stomach erupt in butterflies. You pressed your lips together, trying to push the thought from your mind. There was no use in getting yourself worked up over what was going to be a brief encounter at best. He had already told you that he was in a band, meaning that he would probably be gone by tomorrow morning. Never to be seen again.

You were quickly distracted by your arrival to the correct aisle. It was one that you had been in so many times that you already knew exactly where the book would be from memory. There were a few copies to choose from, and after some debate you eventually settled on a new one. It was a bit more expensive than the used ones, but it would give Tyler a chance to make it all his own, if that was even something he enjoyed doing. You knew not everyone enjoyed writing in their books the same way you did.

Enough thinking. Time to find Tyler.

You eventually did find him curled up on one of the benches, already flipping through one of his books. He looked up when he heard you approaching and tucked the books back into the crook of his arm.

“Did you find something for me?” he asked, once again standing up to his full height.

“Yep, a copy of my favorite book of all time. Hopefully you haven’t read it,” you said, passing it to him.

He took a moment to look over the cover before flipping to the back and reading the synopsis. You chewed on your lower lip, waiting for his reaction.

“This sounds amazing,” he grinned. “I can’t wait to read it.”

You almost said something about being excited to hear his thoughts, then remembered the situation the two of you were in. Instead, you stayed quiet.

“And here’s your book, as promised.”

You took the book from him and added it to the top of your pile. Between the tiredness of your arms and the darkening of the sky, you figured it was about time you got home to make yourself dinner.

“Well, I should be getting home. It was really nice meeting you, Tyler.”

“Wait,” he said, “do you mind if I walk with you to the registers? Might be nice to wait in line together.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

You started to walk towards the front of the store and Tyler quickly fell into step with you. The butterflies had returned to your stomach, but this time you didn’t try so hard to push them away. With this new development in the story, there was still a chance for something to happen before you said goodbye for good.

“So, you said you’re not from around here?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m actually living in Ohio right now.”

“Ohio,” you repeated. “How is that?”

“It’s alright, but I like having a chance to tour and see the whole country. It leads to some pretty cool experiences.”

You were sure that Tyler had cast a glance at you when he said that, but you were too shy to meet his eyes.

“How is being in a band?”

“The best,” he smiled. “And the other guy in the band, his name is Josh, is my best friend, so that’s really awesome. I mean, I’m essentially traveling and doing what I love with the closest person I have in my life. It doesn’t really get better than that.”

Normally you were relieved when the line at the registers was short, but today was different. You wouldn’t have minded being in line for half an hour if it meant more time to talk to Tyler.

“That sounds amazing. I would love to hear some of your music.”

“It’s on iTunes and Spotify and all that. We’re called Twenty One Pilots.”

“Oh, like the Arthur Miller play?”

“Yes, exactly,” Tyler grinned.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What about you? What’s your life like?”

“That’s a loaded question,” you exhaled. “I guess the short answer is that I’m working and trying to figure out what I want to do in life.”

“I’ve been there,” Tyler nodded. “I’m still kind of there, if I’m being honest.”

“Next!” the cashier called.

A frown passed over Tyler’s face, “I guess this is goodbye.”

You tried to hide the disappointment that he hadn’t asked for your number, or maybe you had read the entire situation wrong. Perhaps his remarks hadn’t been anything other than friendly.

“It was really nice meeting you, Tyler. Maybe we’ll run into each other in another bookstore sometime,” you smiled.

“I hope so.”

He waved before turning and walking up to the open register. You had just started to relive all of your interactions with Tyler when the next register opened up. Setting your books on the counter and digging through your bag for a card became a quick distraction.

“Do you want a bag?” the cashier asked.

“No, I have my own. Thank you.”

She finished ringing you up before handing you the receipt and sliding the books your way. You grabbed them and stepped out of the way so that she could begin to help the next person. Before tucking all the books away, you opened up the one on the top so that you could slide the receipt inside.

“What is that?” you muttered, noticing some pencil marks below the title page. You picked up the book and brought it closer to your face, only to realize it was a note.

Sorry for writing in your book, I know not everyone likes to mark up their books like I do. Also sorry for being too embarrassed to do this in person. -Tyler

Beneath all of it was a hastily scribbled phone number. You couldn’t help but smile as you closed the book cover and tucked all of them safely into your bag so they wouldn’t get soaked by the rain.

Maybe you hadn’t misread things after all.

#tyler joseph #tyler joseph x reader #tyler joseph fluff #twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots fluff #tyler joseph imagine #tyler joseph drabbble #tyler joseph fanfiction #twenty one pilots x reader #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots drabble #twenty one pilots fanfiction #fluff #skeleton clique #blurry-fics

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simplyyeol · 5 years

Text

what happens in paris

genre — soulmate! au, fluff, angst-ish

pairing — baby boy pcy x reader

word count — 10.085 what the fuck

warnings — language

description — you find yourself going on a trip to paris with your soulmate. it’s not too bad if you manage to overlook the fact that he hates your guts.

author’s note — hello! i don’t really know if i did this au well or not, but you know. me. back at it again with the cliches. sorry in advance, there is alot of cliche i hope it didn’t drag out too long i tried to incorporate a lot of thought bc character development! idk. also this might be my favorite thing i’ve written so far gahhd! yeah. anyways, enjoy! this took way longer than it should’ve

A smile bloomed on your face as you hopped out of the taxi, the driver coming around to help your excited state grab your luggage from the trunk. You politely said your thank you, bowing, having already paid in the car before practically skipping inside the terminal.

Checking your phone, the online check-in page of your ticket confirmation shown before you double-checked the text. You were at the right terminal, you thought. Nothing had gone wrong so far. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before entering the airport.

The line for the online check-in was thankfully short as you passed through that with smiles. There was still two hours until your boarding time you noticed, stopping in the middle of the crowd, not certain on where to go next. Baekhyun had said he would meet you at the airport—you'd forgotten to ask him where and when.

That was when you saw Chanyeol.

Or he saw you. There was something in the air that made your eyes tear away from your screen, your finger hovering over Baekhyun's contact. Something made you drawn towards his broad figure, that made you catch his eye when his wardrobe was nothing special—it wouldn't have caught your eye given someone else was wearing the same thing. Then again, you pondered, he is your soulmate. Maybe he felt whatever it was too as his step faltered, taking you in, with no one surrounding you. If it weren’t for the mop of striking silver hair he’d dyed it earlier in the year, or his long limbs, or even his pointy ears that stood out from under his beanie, you would’ve never guessed it was him. Or you would’ve. Only because of the sixth sense you get when you meet your soulmate.

Not many people meet their soulmate. It’s a fact. You’d had to do a research paper on it once in middle school and if you remember correctly, only 8% of the world’s population find their soulmate. And you happened to be in that 8%.

You’d seen him at the beginning of freshman year, during your first week, when you felt something wash over you as he made eye contact. Like someone poured a ton of warmth and covered you with a blanket while giving you some hot cocoa. You’ve only ever heard of soulmates with happy endings so when he’d turned away, a frown etched on his handsome face, the fantasies running through your head broke like a dam.

He wasn’t in any of your courses last year, or your first year, but this year he was.

In your Statistics course to be exact. You’re honestly not that bad at statistics. The concepts are fine. You do pretty well on the tests too. However, you still despised Statistics with a hatred that ran deep. Obviously due to him, if that wasn’t clear enough.

Chanyeol doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t go out of his way to annoy you, tease you, or pick on you. He’s not particularly fond of you either. Maybe he knows you. You don’t know if he knows your name—although there is attendance so you could beg to differ—he acts as if you aren’t there. That his soulmate isn’t there.

The only possible honest to God answer you’ve gotten as to why he doesn’t talk to you, acts like you are nothing, like a piece of gum on someone’s shoe, is because he doesn’t like you. You’ve even overheard him telling Baekhyun that you aren’t his type. You weren’t there to hear anything else as you fled from there, eyes glassy with tears. Chanyeol is very handsome. You’d begrudgingly admitted that when you actually noticed how many girls flank his sides while he merely walks through the campus corridors. He’s tall, sporting a modelesque face, thin but you were sure he packed in some muscle underneath, and he has an amazing sense of fashion. Girls are lining over for him, left and right.

And you—you’re just lacking. In your eyes at least. And Chanyeol’s as well.

He really took one look at you and deemed you not pretty enough to be his soulmate. He is the guy that dates the girls in the modeling and acting majors with a body and face that rival any female celebrity. You couldn’t possibly beat any of them.

If you thought about it frankly, it was pathetic. How horribly he treats you. How you look at him from the sidelines with a spotlight shining over him when he doesn’t even glance your way. How you know--even though fate literally attached you to him--it’ll never happen. You’ve gotten mad and ranted with Baekhyun about it as well (he got mad with you and claimed to come and beat him up for you, but you quickly declined not wanting to ruin his face because you just knew he would lose--and you didn’t want him to fight his friend. Yeah, your soulmate who hates you and your best friend are friends. Lucky, right?) and you said that you’d show him a piece of your mind. But the next day, your entire demeanor deflated. The voice in the back of your head started its whispering. Don’t bother him, you already know how he feels about you. And the anger left you.

You’ve come to terms with it now—only sending the back of his head in class a few sad smiles from time to time and other than that you ignore him. If he ignores you, you should ignore him. Why should you pine over someone who barely knows you exist? (Your tiny crush on him says otherwise and acts accordingly.)

You were surprised to see him here of all places and with the luggage too. Apparently, Chanyeol was traveling for the holidays as well. He narrowed his eyes and suddenly you felt like he was analyzing you. You felt small and almost like you were about to suffocate. You tore your eyes away from him and back to your screen. Just a coincidence, you thought. No need for any bad thoughts, Y/N! Can’t let that trouble you and ruin your big, big day! Or well week since you were going to paradise for a whole five days. Too short, now that you think about it.

At the thought of why you were at the airport suddenly came crashing back on you, your previous jitters returning, you quickly pressed on your roommate's number, the calling screen popping up before you pressed it to your ear.

“Y/N? Are you here yet?” Baekhyun asked. You and Baekhyun went to the same high school and had bonded over your similar love for SNSD. You would skip class together to watch the comeback showcase and your friendship only grew from there. It wasn’t that much of a surprise when you and Baekhyun ended up going to the same college. Not many of his friends were keen on living alone, leaving the two of you on one side. You decided to live together seeing no problems arise.

“I am. Checked in my bag and I’m kind of in front of the entrance?” You said, scanning the mass of people to see if you could spot him.

“Okay, one sec, Cha—my friend is checking in his bag right now...can you meet us at the Starbucks?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

You cut the call and made your way over to the Starbucks you spotted earlier.

You and Baekhyun were supposed to be going on a trip of the lifetime—to Paris of all places! It was a dream that both of you had had. He’d gone and done everything, his excitement to the max at the thought of finally being able to go traveling with you. However, in the end, he couldn’t come. He’d gotten a promotion at a radio, something he couldn’t miss. It was a big step in his singing career--people would actually be hearing him now—and you’d sadly accepted the fact that you wouldn’t be able to go with him.

He still didn’t want you going alone, the best friend he was and somehow managed to convince a friend of his to go with you. You asked which friend of his (he had too many) but he stubbornly told you it’d be a surprise. You were okay with anyone except for one person, but you had a bad feeling that crawled up your spine after your previous encounter.

You tapped at your phone, sipping your drink while playing a game that your 9-year old cousin had demanded you download as it was a must by her standards.

“Y/N?” You looked up to see Baekhyun standing over your table. You dropped your phone, practically tackling him and squealing, pulling him into a hug, the excitement rolling off you in waves.

“Well, aren’t you excited.” He mused.

“So much, you don’t even know.” You voiced, pulling back before pouting. “Now you have to tell me. Who is it?”

He smirked before cocking his head to the side. Your head whipped to where he was gesturing.

“No—” you spluttered seeing the familiar face.

“Chanyeol!” He called waving his arms, motioning for him to come here, while you had your mini panic attack.

You looked at him, something akin to fear displayed on your face. You almost threw up half the macchiato you downed just a few minutes before seeing Chanyeol rolling his luggage with him.

Baekhyun smiles, beaming, before leaning closer to your ear. “You'll thank me later.”

The excitement form your face has fully washed off, as you purse your lips. “I don’t think so, Baek.”

“See this is why I didn’t tell you! I knew you’d act like this.” He pouted before turning around and pulling Chanyeol to you.

“Hi.” Chanyeol starts, slowly, cautiously, as he sees you looking anywhere but at him. Was he okay with this? Going to another fucking country with you? Was he not freaking out? Did Baekhyun tell him that it was you he was going with? No— did Baekhyun bribe him? You felt small under your soulmate's eyes, and you hated it.

You almost feel like crying, and you don’t even know why as you wave a heartless wave back. You can’t deal with this right now. Nope. No way. You choose not to.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and heading towards the bathroom. You head into a stall and give yourself ten seconds. Ten seconds to cry before you put on a smile. A tiny sob racks out of your chest and you thank God your relationship with Chanyeol hasn’t progressed enough for him to feel your feelings. You’d actually die if that was the case.

You take a deep breath when you hit one and quickly dab at your eyes with your over-sized hoodie. At least you didn’t wear any mascara. You press the tips of your fingers, which are slightly cold, to your eyes, afraid of the puffiness before walking out of the stall. You give yourself a smile seeing no trace. You can do this. This is nothing. If anything, maybe you can try and get to know him on the trip, and maybe learn more about him and why he doesn’t like you. You paused glancing at your sparkling eyes. Nothing can ruin your first trip abroad, by yourself. Not even him. The smile you sported suddenly felt a lot less heavy from before your pep talk. I can do this, you repeated like a mantra. You whisper to yourself a small ‘fighting!’ before you walk out of the bathroom to go meet your doom.

Chanyeol frowns when he sees you, as a small thank you passes from your lips when you see your backpack on his shoulder since they’d moved from the cafe. You shoulder your backpack, ignoring the stare that you could literally feel on you from a certain giant.

“Great!” Baekhyun announces, not seeming to notice the tension between you to. Or maybe he chose to ignore it. Or it was just your imagination. “Now that you two are energized and ready to go, I’ll be taking my leave—"

“Wait!” You interject. A blush settles on your face when you realize you sounded a little too panicked to be considered cool, calm and collected. Not freaking out on the inside. “Uh...goodbye hug?” He chuckles at your excuse and opens his arms. You give him a small smile and walk in, glad for the warmth that the man practically radiates. You’re actually going to miss the annoying idiot. Even though you were going to Paris, he had wanted to go too. It was on both your bucket lists and you felt sad that he wouldn’t be there to experience it with you.

“We can always go next time,” he mutters, practically reading your thoughts. “Don’t be sad.” He let’s go, smiling down at you, and you pout as he pats your head in a teasing manner. He gives Chanyeol the more masculine hug, bro-hug you like to call it, and says his last words, turning around to leave, two of you now alone.

Well, you both were still in the airport where hundreds of people surrounded you but still, alone.

You spoke up, not sure of what to do next. “I guess we should go too—" Chanyeol turns seeing Baekhyun exit, the airport giving you one last dramatic wave, not sparing you a glance before leaving. “Or not,” You mutter, dejectedly, hurrying to follow behind him. You didn’t know if you should follow him, but the two of you were technically traveling together, right? Couldn’t hurt if you annoy him a little more.

You got on the plane with no hassle. It was a long flight, 12 hours to be exact, the longest you’ve ever been on a plane—and it wasn’t until you boarded, and put your backpack overhead, Chanyeol helping you put yours as he saw you struggling when you realized you were scared. Well, a scared type of nervous. A nervous type of scared. You forgot about the jitters that always seem to crawl up behind you when you take off. Something about the plane tilting so weird made butterflies flutter in your stomach. And not the good kind.

Your hands gripped the handlebars a little too tight, your knuckles turning white. Your eyes were shut closed as the plane lifted and you missed the glances Chanyeol sent your way seeing your frenzied state. You should really get rid of this stupid fear.

One thing you’ve noticed is that you can never sleep on planes. Well, just the first part. Trying to sleep right after taking off? Yeah, you could never. You saw Chanyeol pull an eye mask from his bag and put it on and mentally made a note to maybe try that sometime. Maybe it’d help.

The time on the tiny TV in front of you said there were almost six hours left. Halfway there. You turned from listening to music to watching a movie, and you were scrolling through the new Disney movies that were released this year when you felt something land on your shoulder.

You managed a peek and froze. It was Chanyeol. He’d wiggled out in his seat, legs awkwardly spread as they were too long from the cramped up seat and he somehow came to your height, head lolling on your shoulder. You glanced at the person sitting next to Chanyeol, an old man in his late 40’s. At least he didn’t land on him.

You let go of the breath you were holding not feeling him move and continuing to find another movie. The position looks as comfortable as it gets for an economy class ticket to Paris. You’d spare your shoulder if it meant his comfort any day.

Maybe it was after the third movie you fell asleep on Chanyeol’s head that was still resting on your shoulder.

So when he woke and found you sleeping on his head, it was the hardest minute of his life to move you comfortably to his shoulder without waking you up.

He looked at your face, a pout lining your lips. He wanted nothing more than to smash his lips on them.

When Baekhyun had asked if he'd wanted to go on a trip with you, cautiously of course (he knew your relationship with him), he'd accepted thinking that maybe he should try. He should try this whole soulmate thing with you when Baekhyun explained to him that his parents were just horrible. Not at all like what soulmates become.

He started to regret it after seeing you at the airport and now all he wanted to do was wrap you up in his embrace and smother you with kisses. The stupid soulmate bond getting in the way of his rational thoughts. It didn't help that the hoodie you were wearing was over-sized, practically swallowing you making you look even more adorable.

He looked away, groaning, his head falling back against the seat. This is not good.

He saw the movie you were watching still playing and lightly chuckled seeing as your headphones were still on. You must’ve been really tired to have slept through that noise. He peeled them off, carefully, and turned off the screen before resting his head on yours again. He found that it was much more comfortable than the seat behind him as his eyes fluttered shut, sleep overtaking him once again.

When you woke, Chanyeol was already awake and your chest tightened, hoping beyond belief he didn’t mind you leaning against him. You couldn’t have him hating you any more or getting the wrong idea. But what could be the wrong idea? You were simply sleeping. Even if he did, his face was void of emotion so if he did care, he shrugged it off—maybe saying something your unconscious body had done, so it wasn’t your fault. You blew a breath out, thankful to spare the embarrassment that would’ve come if he had questioned you before the seat belt sign had turned off. You’d officially landed.

Chanyeol had gotten your backpack that you’d gratefully taken from him as you boarded off the plane.

The Paris airport was bustling to the brim and you could only look with wide eyes at everything surrounding you. It intrigued you, how everything looked so similar. All the elements of the Seoul airport were there, but it was so different at the same time. The feeling of Paris seeped through the small cracks as you saw everything laid in front of you.

How instead of Korean and English, it was French and English printed on the signs overhead. A voice in the back of your head said the language of love, and you couldn’t help but think how ironic it was, in your situation.

No mishaps had occurred as you got to the hotel you’d be staying at for the next week. You’d checked in, both you and Chanyeol having separate rooms, although they were next to each other. You’d quickly said no when they asked if you’d like to change to a single room. The blush that stained your cheeks had stayed up the elevator until you scrambled into your room and muttered a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ to Chanyeol.

You spent the rest of the evening washing up and organizing the events you’d already booked for tomorrow. You wondered if Baekhyun was still awake and were reaching for your phone to text him when your stomach growled. You groaned remembering that you’d slept through the in-flight meal and the last thing you’d digested was that measly drink from Starbucks. Maybe you should go and get dinner.

You looked at the menu booklet that you’d found on the sleek coffee table in the corner of the room, that showed the items for room service but blanched at the price of each plate. The hotel Baekhyun reserved was exquisite, to say the least. You counted the money that you’d exchanged earlier at the airport and deemed that you’ll exchange some more tomorrow morning. It wouldn’t hurt to skip dinner if you just slept now.

A knock at the door had made you freeze in your spot, sprawled on the floor. You got up, not expecting anyone and looked through the peephole, curiously. Chanyeol was standing there, his eyes cast downwards as he scrolled through his phone. You’d scrambled back. Why was he here? Was there something wrong? Did he lose something? You peaked again and noticed his casual stature. It doesn’t look like anything is wrong…maybe he just forgot something trivial and needed to borrow it for you. You popped your hood, thinking your hair was probably a mess, hoping that nothing was actually up before opening the door.

“Oh, you’re still awake.” His eyes raked your figure up and down, and your feet shuffled, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. “I was just going to grab some food—you didn’t have dinner yet, did you?”

You shook your head. “I’m not that hungry—”

The rumbling of your stomach interrupted you. A blush settled on your cheeks as a small smile painted his handsome face. You managed a nervous chuckle before saying you’ll be out in ten and softly shut the door behind you. After you were sure the lock had clicked, you’d stumbled to your bed and dived head first before thrashing a little, heart soaring through the clouds. Did Park Chanyeol just ask you to go out with him?

You settled for a small diner that lined the streets next to your hotel. The aroma when you entered the restaurant made you salivate at how good it smelled.

You were excited for the food until you saw the waitress practically waltz to your table. She was blonde, tall, with long legs, and big breasts. You couldn’t help but think she was pretty even as she gave a very inappropriate look to your soulmate. She leaned over the table, showing off even more cleavage and you rolled your eyes.

And then you saw Chanyeol. And where exactly he was looking. You scoffed as she sent you a smirk and a tiny part inside of you died remembering when he had said you weren’t his type. Maybe she was his type. You glanced at your chest and suddenly felt small in comparison.

His eyes fluttered to yours as you quickly looked back at your menu, embarrassed as you’d been caught staring at him. What’s wrong with you? You’re not his type and nothing can change that.

The waitress had walked back, a bounce in her step, knowing the effect she had on Chanyeol, after taking your orders and you’d been down in the dumps since.

Dinner was silent until you tried breaking the silence. It couldn’t possibly hurt to try and know more about your travel buddy if not soulmate, could it?

“What are you majoring in?” You chanced, eyes wide as you took another bite of your pasta, eyes focused on him.

He looked up at you and swallowed. “Music.”

You hummed. It made sense. Chanyeol seemed like...a free spirit. He doesn’t seem like the person who would want to major in something sturdy like law or medicine because his parents told him to. A content smile spread over his lips and you realized that he must love what he does.

“What about you?”

“Oh, um, business.” You gave him a small smile. “Boring, right? I’ve always wanted to learn guitar.” You said, sadly. “Seems fun.”

“Business isn’t..boring.” He mused, questionably you’d add, and then. “Why didn’t you?” He questions, lips down-turned.

“My parents thought it was a waste of money.” You played with the pasta on your plate, fork scratching the glass. You’d never gave it a second thought. If your parents used that excuse, that usually meant it would never happen. Money was a touchy subject in your family, as you didn’t grow up in a lavish environment. “Never got the chance.”

“I could teach you.” Your head shot up, confused at his words. “Maybe when we get back.”

“Why?” You said, cocking your head. Why would he want to teach you guitar on top of his classes and probably extracurriculars? He also had his own social life.

“What do you mean why?” He questioned back.

“I—um, never mind.” Gosh, why did you have to ask that? You don’t even know what you were saying anymore. “Thank you,” you quickly added.

It’s silence until you speak up about the thing that’s been bothering you. “Baekhyun said that he convinced you to come with me—is that right?”

“Yeah. He said it when all of the guys were out. I’ve always wanted to go abroad.”

“Did you know you’d be coming with me?” You asked, hesitantly, looking at him with big eyes.

“Yeah.”

You wondered if you should bring up the part about how he treated you, but a voice in the back of your head told you to just go for it. You’re on the topic already.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“What?”

“I mean, you don’t even talk to me, and you can’t possibly be clueless as to the fact that we’re soulmates.” His eyes widen, as you realize this is the first time you made it known. Sure you knew it, thought about it, practically every day, and you’re sure he knows it too. But this is the first time the both of you are actually discussing it. You scoffed inside. You’d known him for almost three years and this is the first time it’s come up between the two of you.

“I don’t hate you,” he mutters.

“What?” This is, what you'd call frustrating. “Well, I know I’m not your type but that doesn’t mean you have to reject me being your soulmate. You didn’t even give me a chance—” you choke, halting your tirade.

He cocks his head. “I never told you, you weren’t my type—”

“I heard,” you interjected. “Freshman year, you told Baekhyun in our apartment and I heard. And I get that I’m not what you want, but you never even gave me a chance.” You look at him, pleadingly, before sighing. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I—I don’t hate you,” he splutters.

“You don’t have to lie.” You state, standing up from the table. Where all your confidence is coming from, only God knows. His hand shoots out to hold your arm and you pull it away, goosebumps rising, when you felt a small shock from that touch.

You glare at him. “If you don’t hate me, then it’s okay to say you don’t like me being your—”

“I just never wanted a soulmate, okay?” He interjects, eyebrows furrowed at you. “It’s not you.” You falter. It wasn’t you he didn’t want. It was the fact he never wanted what you were to him. “I don’t hate you, okay.” He looked at you, eyes big and soft before confessing. “I kind of wanted to go on this trip with you.”

You slowly sat back down, mouth effectively shut up for the rest of dinner, thoughts consuming you as you finished off your plate. He never wanted a soulmate? So when he said he wanted to go with you, he meant to get you know you as a friend? Were you just friend-zoned by him? Something in your gut didn’t feel right and you remembered how you had a tiny crush on him. Totally not platonic feelings. Is this really what your future will be? You mentally slammed your head against the table. Maybe you should get up and leave his forever, because you just know that you’ll fall for him even more, if you started this. But there was still a small part in your heart that just said, take what you could get. Maybe it’ll work in your favor. You glanced at the man in question, chomping on a bread stick while scrolling through his phone seemingly unaffected. He still is your soulmate. Just the thought of leaving him seemingly made your heart break into pieces that could never be put back together.

“The food’s really good,” was all you could manage, trying a light tone.

“Yeah, it is.” He replied.

When the bill came around you rummaged through your purse for the right note but Chanyeol had already handed the correct amount.

“Wait, no, it’s fine I can pay half, what are you doing—”

“I pay this time and you pay the next?” He offered, already handing over the money. You frowned at him huffing an okay not really seeing a choice before waiting for him at the entrance.

As you strolled the Parisian streets next to Chanyeol, you realized that he said the next time also. Did that mean he wanted to eat with you, again? Your heart couldn’t help but flutter a smile growing on your lips at the possibilities that swam through your mind. And then you remembered. He didn’t want a soulmate. The smile was gone.

Maybe you should’ve just skipped dinner.

In the past few months, you’ve visited every top tourist attraction website you could find on the whole internet including Paris and finally, after the very long wait, you got to experience it.

Today marks the first day of your trip in Paris. You’d be going to the Moulin Rouge before taking a cruise on the Seine.

You were getting ready, having just gotten out of the shower and settling for a pair of jeans and a hoodie with your long coat over from the chilly weather forecast of today, when you felt it.

A searing pain on your forearm pulling a shriek from you. You ran towards the sink feeling tears prick at your eyes because that really fucking hurt. And based on previous knowledge that was a burn. You had gotten a burn when you were nowhere near anything hot. Which meant only one other thing.

It was Chanyeol. You'd been bonded. You laughed heartlessly as the cold water washed over your skin. He said he didn’t want a soulmate and the very next day you get bonded to him. How amazing.

You’ve figured out over the day that Chanyeol is very clumsy. You’ve got bruises on your knees, elbows, and finger when you think that he slammed his finger on a door. He was literally going to be the death of you and it hasn’t even been one fucking day, you think.

You decide to bring it up to him, even though you knew you’d probably forget. You have low pain tolerance. If anything else you’ll go into shock living with this bond for the rest of your life, you thought.

The Seine left you absolutely awestruck. You’d boarded a cruise for the evening, the tour guide explaining that it was the prettiest during sunset. And she wasn’t wrong.

The pinks and orange hues faded into the blue as you saw the sunset far off. The purple and black of the night took over the sky and you couldn’t help but sigh at the beauty it held. It was almost time to get off and you, Chanyeol and a young couple--you guessed in their early 30’s sat at a table. You’d ordered a soda and Chanyeol a tea.

A big mistake you liked to call it. The boat rocked just as Chanyeol’s lips were to taste the matcha and the piping hot burn seared on your chest right where he had spilled it. You’d spilled the coke you were holding over your shirt as well from the shock, on your white button-up shirt, before you huffed setting down the empty glass. He can’t possibly know that you’ve been bonded when you were taking the brunt of the hits.

“Are you always burning yourself or what?” You barked, turning to Chanyeol who was sporting a similar stain to your own. He had tissues in his hand when he looked down at your shirt, then back to your face as a blush coated his features.

“What?” He called.

“This morning, you burned yourself on something didn’t you?”

“Yes, but how did you know—?”

“Are you fucking stupid or—" you rolled up your sleeve and pinched the supple skin there, and he yelped.

“No...” He breathed.

“Yes. So please, try and be more careful from now on.”

The couple which Chanyeol found had an adorable kid took their seats on the chairs across from you. He looked around only now noticing that the deck was packed, many lingering around the edges of the deck, not having a seat. Thank God, you’d grabbed a seat beforehand and told him to keep his stuff so someone wouldn’t take your seat. He couldn’t fathom standing for a whole two hours with sore legs, if only from strolling through Paris in the afternoon.

Chanyeol watched the couple bicker, lovingly, before one of their kids spilled scalding hot tea over the father. He chuckled. That just happened to him as well. But what came next shocked him.

The mother turned to the child who looked upon his parents, bottom lip trembling, tears spilling out. “I’m sorry, did it hurt a lot?” He cried.

Chanyeol thought he only spilled the tea on the father before he caught a glance of an angry red on the mother’s forearm. Right where the father was wiping it with a tissue.

“It’s okay, it was only an accident, don’t cry. It doesn’t even hurt that much.” The mother soothed the child, shushing him.

He realized. The couple was bonded. With a child. His mind was in a frenzy before your voice next to him pulled out from his thoughts.

“Are you two soulmates?” You asked, eyes sparkling and lips pulled into a smile.

The couple nodded as a small, dreamy sigh left your lips and only Chanyeol could see the tiniest motion as you deflated.

“That’s lovely.” You spoke before your eyes met Chanyeol’s.

Chanyeol looked straight at you, gaze unwavering as he thought of how maybe this whole time he’s seen it wrong. You were surprised, quickly looking away from his eyes, a sudden blush rising in your cheeks.

Maybe it really could be different for him.

You’d woken up the next morning absolutely ecstatic for the busy day to come. The prospect of seeing the Palace of Versailles—all the greenery, the history hidden behind each stone placed, the architecture—something you’ve only dreamed of seeing in person sent jitters all over again through your body. This is exactly what you wanted when you planned to travel.

You checked the time and remembered that you forgot to remind Chanyeol last night that the bus would arrive earlier. A voice in the back of your mind told you not to tell him but then you remembered. He was in Paris because he wanted to travel. You know how excited you were—you couldn’t possibly do that to him. You figured that you should go right now but quickly chickened out, deeming it too awkward for you to go to his door and knock. Sure, your relationship has gotten a little better (he did want to be friends with you)—and he doesn’t treat you like dirt anymore but nothing like the dreams you’ve dreamed of.

You picked up your phone and clicked on his contact--having gotten his number for emergencies. Both of you had gotten international plans for the trip as roaming charges were never pleasant.

chanyeol?

are you up?

Even after ten minutes, he didn’t reply and he couldn’t possibly be ignoring you. He wouldn’t stoop that low. You hesitated before thinking, fuck it, and pressing the call button.

It rang a few times before he picked up his groggy morning voice filling your ear. “Y/N? Is there something wrong?”

Your stomach leaped at how his words slurred and you thought of how adorable he would look. No, bad Y/N. Don’t think like that. “Um, no, are you awake yet? The tour bus we're taking leaves at 9:30—”

“That’s today?” He interjects. “Shit, I should probably get ready—thank you, God, if you weren’t here—“

He hung up the call then and you lowered the phone a small smile playing on your lips. He’s glad that you’re here with him.

Later you hit your head against the wall of your bed because you are not supposed to be thinking those thoughts over what he says. He probably doesn’t mean how you think it means. You’re looking too into things, Y/N. You have got to stop.

You showed up at his door later, his promise of you paying for the next meal going through your thoughts. You don’t usually eat breakfast, but the thought of trying actual French croissants in France made your mouth water.

In the end, you made your way to the breakfast buffet at your hotel and took everything you thought look good in a to-go box for Chanyeol and you to share.

You'd rung the doorbell and after you heard a door shut inside and some more shuffling he opened the door. You yelped before turning around. He only had a towel on.

He smirked. “There’s still half an hour,” he remarked.

You lifted up the bag, now looking at the floor. “I brought breakfast.”

He tentatively took it from your fingers before sniffing it and moaning in pleasure. He walked inside to his room leaving the door open and you took that as permission to enter as well. “You are literally a godsend, Y/N, this smells amazing.”

Your blush darkens. “Should I wait, until you’re done dressing or—?”

“You can wait, I’ll be a minute,” he says and you hear what you think is the bathroom close before letting out the breath you were unknowingly holding. You flop on one of the chairs near the coffee table, identical to the one in your own room. That was way too much exposure for you at only nine in the morning. Did the universe hate you? Is that why your life is like this? You take your orange juice and chug it suddenly feeling a little too hot when you hear Chanyeol’s phone ring.

You look at the phone number with ‘Mother’ written and then to the bathroom. Is it nosy if you pick up? But what if it’s important? In the end, you pick up the phone, seeing as a few rings already passed. “Hello?”

“Hello, Chanyeol? Are you home, right now? Remember that book—”

“Um, Ma’am. This is Y/N, Chanyeol’s--um, friend.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Where’s Chanyeol?”

“He’s in the bathroom, right now.” Your eyebrows furrow, repeating what she said in your brain. Home? Did Chanyeol not tell her about being in Paris? You don’t say anything as you only hear static on the other side.

“Oh,” she finally replies, and you’re shocked at how uninterested she is. Does she really not know?

You hear the door open and Chanyeol sees you with his phone as you look at him.

“Who is it?” He asks across the room, hanging up his towel on the clothes rack to the side.

“Your mother,” you mouth. His eyes widen and it only takes him two strides to reach and snatch the phone from your hand. His face turns cold and you feel as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I’ll call you later, Mother.” He says, before hanging up.

You keep your lips closed as he sighs and looks at you. “Why did you pick up?”

“I—um,” you splutter.

“Whatever, just don’t do it again.” He snapped as you curled in yourself wanting nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Apparently, you were being nosy.

He sprawls over the other chair, silently and unwraps the food. You watch him practically inhale the food, not making any move. He looks pissed.

“Sorry.” You both say simultaneously. You hold eye contact with him for an exact five seconds before he looks away.

“Did you not tell your mom that you were going to Paris?” You try. “Are…you not close with her?”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. And then,

“My parents are soulmates.” Your eyes widen, microscopically. Well, this is big news. The fact that you even found your soulmate was huge. You don’t even know anyone close to you that has found their soulmate. And have a kid too.

“They treated me like a stranger and only cared about themselves and I—” he stopped, a slight tremble in his lips. “I thought that that was what the soulmate bond does to people. It makes them into parasites who don’t care for those around them.” He looks at you, eyes just the tiniest bit teary. “I never wanted a soulmate because of them. She couldn’t care less. Whether I’m in Korea or across the world.”

You put yourself in his shoes. The people in his life who were supposed to love you, take care of you, comfort you, cry with you, were absent in his life—his parents were nonexistent in his life. You went over what he said in your head. He thought it was because of the soulmate bond? That’s why he doesn’t want a soulmate?

“Chanyeol? I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s because of the soulmate bond.” You blurt. He stops chewing on a sausage, looking at you. “I think they’re just assholes.” Your eyes widened. Wait, you didn’t mean to call his parents assholes! “Shit, that’s not what I—”

His boisterous laughter cuts through the room, bouncing off the walls, making it feel much livelier than what two—practically strangers—could do. “That’s what Baekhyun always says,” he chokes out between laughs. Is he one of those people who laugh at the stupidest of things? Because if he is, then you wouldn’t mind looking up the lamest dad jokes to get him laugh—no! Y/N, you can’t do that!

You find your resolve fading, though, as you can’t help but chuckle along with his never ending laughter.

The Louvre felt like a dream that you’d unnervingly stepped into. A tour guide was assigned to you, Chanyeol and a few other cute elderly couples wearing matching tourist shirts. You couldn’t help but wonder if they were soulmates too who’d grown old together—just like all the children stories said, the revelation from yesterday affecting your thoughts.

Your phone’s battery was quickly depleting if only from how many pictures you’d taken. You haven’t even reached half of the tour before your stomach is grumbling and to your embarrassment, Chanyeol, who has been walking next to you, hears it.

He calls to the tour guide and asks when they can stop for a lunch break and you all decide after you see the most famous exhibit: the Mona Lisa.

It didn’t take you long to stray from the group. Seeing as you’d go back after taking a closer picture, you’d used your height (which you’re usually very self-conscious about) to your advantage, passing through the hordes of people.

You’d gotten out of the crowd, finished with your admiration of the painting while you looked at the pictures you managed. They were pretty good if you said so yourself. Pocketing your phone, you looked up and tried spotting your group. You walked around a little, going back to where you’d parted before the realization hits you when you didn’t see them.

You quickly call Chanyeol, not knowing who else to call on this situation. He doesn’t pick up and you see that your battery is currently at 6%. This could not be happening to you right now.

You walked to a less populated part of the room suddenly feeling panicky at the hordes of people. There was probably a hundred people in this room right now and yet you knew none of them. You tried calling him again, afraid that your battery would die.

“Please, please, please, pick up,” you muttered like a mantra. Maybe God had sent you a gift when he picked up the phone.

“Chanyeol! Where are you right now, I can’t—“ your phone buzzed and you groaned seeing the screen go black. Your stupid phone with its stupid battery. Why did you take so many pictures again?

You tried looking on the bright side. He couldn’t be far, at the very most in another room. If anything he probably noticed that you aren’t by his side anymore (the both of you stuck together like glue today seeing as none of the other people in your group seemingly fit into people you could talk with). Hopefully, he’d find you soon enough. You’re a grown adult. You can’t be scared in broad daylight over nothing.

It’s been an hour and you still haven’t seen any sight of Chanyeol, and yes you were a grown adult who is totally capable of traveling alone, but you were scared. You could always go back to your hotel, but you left your money with Chanyeol as he’d brought a bigger bag and you didn’t have enough for a taxi fare back. So technically you couldn’t. Not being able to resist your hunger you’d managed to figure out where a nearby cafe was and used the rest of the money. You barely had enough for it too. You sat at one of the tables, munching on a sandwich and playing with your still dead phone. If only you had a charger.

And that’s when it hit you. This is the 21st century. Everyone had phones. With this many people, there’s probably one person with a charger—you sprung up and went to the counter hoping beyond belief your statement was correct.

“Hello? What can I get for you?” The women asked, shooting you a smile.

“Actually,” you started, “you don’t happen to have a phone charger on you, do you? My phone died and I lost my friend, and I need to call them but I don’t know his number.” You explained, a meek smile on your face.

She eyes your phone before her eyes lit up. “Oh! Yeah! You’re lucky that you have the same phone as me.” She gestured for you to come to the back through the opening on the side. You almost cried at the realization that you weren’t doomed.

“Thank you—" you paused, glancing at her name tag, “—Mia. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no problem, really, but, I have to get back to the counter, so...”

“Oh yeah, totally go ahead. I’m not going to steal any mugs if that’s what you’re saying.” You shooed her off, sending a smile before leaning against the counter, a sigh leaving your lips.

You wanted to go back to your sandwich, but an inkling in the back of your head told you not to lose your phone as well. So you stayed, keeping an eye out just in case. When your phone lit up again, it was at 20% and you’d harrumphed in excitement, unplugging the cord and making your way back to your table. You’d quickly finished the last of your sandwich before clicking the call button when someone grabbed your arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N, what the fuck—” they said and you pulled away in shock.

You looked startled glancing at the young man breathing harshly beside you, hands resting on his knees as he takes a deep breath—you guessed--from running. It wasn’t until he raised his head that you realized you weren’t lost anymore.

“Chanyeol!” You exclaimed, and before you knew it you were tackling him in a hug. Maybe it was the fact that you’d gotten lost in a foreign country with a foreign language and you’d had no idea what to do. But seeing his face, a familiar face made tears prick at your eyes. He’d froze under your touch and you realized you were hugging him before you quickly let go. “Shit, sorry,” you rambled and pulled back, trying your best to blink away the tears. Why are you crying? What the hell? Is there something wrong with you?

He looked down at your weathered state and pulled you back into his arms in the middle of the debate in your head. You couldn’t help the tears that started rolling down your face, feeling the warmth emanate from him. You’re sure you soaked his hoodie as you wrap your arms around him, ear pressed against his heart as you heard the calm thump thump thump of his heartbeat that made you feel safer than ever before.

He refused to let you out of your sight for the rest of the day leaving you confused. Frazzled. Extremely concerned because where did the old Chanyeol go? Well, he had confessed that he kind of wanted to go on this trip with you. Technically that meant he wouldn't treat you horribly. This is what friends do for each other right? They look out for you. Well, you weren’t really complaining (even with how much he made you question yourself when he steered you closer to him when you'd strayed, his warm hands placed on your shoulders) as you were about to go take an angled picture of the Flying Carpet structure in the middle of the courtyard but was stopped by Chanyeol grabbing your hand.

You look back glancing at his hand in yours then back to his face, blushing. “I’m just going to go and take a picture—”

“Tell me,” he interrupted, “when you go somewhere else, okay?” His tone was soft, and all you could do was nod before he let go of your hand. You couldn’t even take a picture, his camera that you borrowed slipping out of your hands every time you thought of his warm hand clasped over yours.

Chanyeol watched as you stood underneath the Eiffel Tower, looking above you at the massive structure, a smile displayed lighting up your features.

“Will you take a picture for me?” You grinned. He nodded, taking the phone from your outstretched hand. And while you turned around he quickly took a few pictures on your phone, before he realized that he hadn’t taken any pictures himself. His camera was over on the bench so he patted his pocket to get his phone, as he always kept it there but froze not feeling the familiar weight.

His eyes widened before he strides towards his bag and hurriedly checked all the pockets. You’d walked over to him now, silently taking your phone from where he placed it on the bench next to him.

He groaned, after taking everything out of his bag and still not finding his phone. He couldn’t possibly have…lost it, could he? This is something big even for how forgetful Chanyeol is. He really went and lost his phone abroad. He looked at you and took in your concerned eyes, and then,

“I think I lost my phone.”

Maybe it was after ten minutes, twenty minutes—Chanyeol wasn’t sure because he didn’t have his fucking phone, but you already left his side after he broke the news—when you came back, silently taking a seat next to him.

“So I asked the tour guide,” you announced garnering Chanyeol’s attention as he looked at your calm stature. “And he said he’ll take us to the nearest police station.” You turned to him. “Can you try to retrace your steps, to see where you could’ve dropped it?”

He looked at you. He really looked at you as you blinked back at him, patiently waiting for him to answer. Over the days, over the days he spent with you, he’s realized something. You’ve been nothing short of amazing to him.

You were thoughtful, patient, you never got mad at him (except for whenever he gets an especially painful bruise--you have low pain tolerance, he’s noticed), and you laughed at the stupid jokes he tells you. He realized that he wanted nothing more than to keep that laugh on your face for the rest of your life. He wanted to make you laugh for the rest of your life. His heart stopped when he realized this isn’t what he wanted. When he had told you that he didn’t want a soulmate, he saw that loving glint in your eyes leave. He saw when you find yourself staring at him before looking away when he noticed. He saw how you restricted yourself, hesitating just the tiniest bit before doing something that friends don’t do. And over the days he realized. He was such a stupid idiot. And a hypocrite. And an asshole. He realized that he wanted you to be his soulmate. Even after just a few days ago he stated the exact opposite. Chanyeol groaned inwardly. He really fucked up, didn’t he?

You were for sure going to blow up in his face when he told you. You were shy sure, but he saw that you speak your mind when things get out of hand. Oh God, what if you say you didn’t want him as a soulmate anymore? Then what would he do?

“I think in the last taxi we were in.” He muttered as he saw you in another light, almost as if a halo was shining a top of you.

“Oh! Then if you didn’t put it on silent, maybe the driver will pick up!” You exclaimed, hurriedly pulling your phone out. “I’m so dumb, I should’ve done this earlier.” You tapped for a few seconds on your phone before pressing it to your ear.

You frowned when no one picked up.

After the third time, your face lit up, as you spoke an excited ‘hello!’ and that’s when Chanyeol realized, inwardly smiling to himself.

He liked you. Maybe even loved you.

But he was stupid. So maybe he couldn’t.

“I told you we’d find it!” You squealed, skipping to Chanyeol before handing him his phone with the familiar phone case. He took it from your hand, welcoming the sparks that followed when your hand brushed his.

“I have no idea what I’d do without you.” He remarked.

“I know right,” you joked, a knowing smile present on your face. Chanyeol noticed; you smile a lot.

Maybe he’d begun noticing all the tiny things in the few hours passed that he realized his feelings for you. His true feelings. His true feelings that he couldn’t fucking confess because he messed up, big. (Even his conscience reminded him and Chanyeol wanted nothing more than for his conscience to fuck off.)

“Y/N,” he started, not knowing if he should say it now, but your attention fluttered back to the tour guide who was waving the both of you over. Chanyeol deflated as you turned your back on him before he made himself a silent promise. He wasn’t sure if you hated him yet, but he wanted you to know how he felt. He wanted to know if you still wanted him as a soulmate, even after everything he’s done to you. No time like the present, right?

The breeze fluttered through Paris, sending shivers up your spine as you leaned against the cold metal railing, gazing over the streets lit up underneath you. The people looked as small as ants from the top of the Eiffel tower.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You enquired, not looking at Chanyeol who sported a similar stance to your own.

You didn’t notice how Chanyeol turned to you, taking how the Parisian lights reflected in your eyes. “It is,” he replied (not totally taking a line out of a fairy tale and referencing to you, not the city below him).

You looked at him now, feeling his eyes boring into your side profile.

“Y/N, do you hate me?”

Your eyes widened at his statement. You know you’ve said that you thought he hates you, but you? Hating him? If anyone hated him you’d wonder if they were in their right minds. How can one actually hate him? First of all, his looks, you’re surprised that no agency has scouted him to be a model or actor. His voice, that stupid deep timbre that sent butterflies through your body whenever he started humming along to the radio, silently singing all the words. His personality was practically close to angelic. If you thought about it, to everyone else he was nice, so nice sometimes he stood up against Kim Jongdae—you realized it that one time you were crossing the street and he went to help out an elderly woman who was struggling with her groceries. He was just a lovable, extremely nice, idiotic giant, with big eyes and adorable pointy ears. How could you not like him?

“Th—that’s absurd,” you splutter, heat rushing to your cheeks, at how he’s staring at you, and you’re afraid that he could’ve heard your earlier thoughts, even though that’s impossible.

“So you don’t?” He continued. You nodded before he smiled a small smile to himself. “Good,” he confessed. And then, “that means you like me, right?”

The question was so out of the blue, and at the same time not, that you ended up choking on your own spit. He helped you recover, his warm hand sending goosebumps through your jacket as he rubbed your back. You narrowed your eyes at him seeing how he was so close to laughing at your hacking.

“How can you just say that so carelessly?” You declared, huffing, not looking at him, as he so was doing to you.

“You do, don’t you?” He grinned, taking your silence and avoidance of his question as an answer. “Because I think I like you.”

When you turn and meet his eyes, a series of events that you saw as the future flashed through your eyes. Chanyeol getting down on one knee, a box in his hand. The two of you sharing a kiss sealing your love for each other. A child with pointy ears and wide, doe eyes that you knew so well running around a house with chocolate smeared over his face.

And you realize that that is the future you have with him.

“I—” you falter. Mouth opening and closing. “You saw that too, didn’t you.”

His smile is beaming as he answers. “I did.” And he takes a step closer to you, closing the distance that was previously between the two of you.

And then he’s leaning closer, and closer, and closer, before pressing his lips to yours in the most gentle way you thought possible. Your lips move against his in a fluidity that you've never noticed before. You fit perfectly against him—as if you were made for each other. His lips are velvet as they move against your own, his hands hot as they pull you closer, placed on your hips.

A smile breaks through your lips as you kiss him, arms coming around his shoulders, fingers playing with the baby hairs on his nape and only when the two of you part, you see the brightest of smiles displayed on his face like a piece of art that you wouldn’t mind staring at for the rest of your life.

He leans down to swoop you off your feet again when you pull back, confusion laced over your features. “Wait a second. You said you didn’t want a soulmate, right? If you like me—your soulmate—how is that supposed to work—”

He cuts you off with a chaste kiss that has your head spinning. He chuckles. “I don’t not want a soulmate anymore, stupid.” Another kiss. “As long as its you.” And another. You kiss for a few more minutes, thankful that no one else was on the top of the Eiffel tower that you had forced Chanyeol to climb up with you. They weren’t going to risk the hellish flight of stairs to get to the amazing view.

After a while, he pulls away again. You’re glad as you take a breath. This man takes your breath away, literally. “You didn’t answer my question,” he breathes against your lips.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “What question?”

“Do you like me?” He questions, forehead resting against yours.

“I like you, Chanyeol,” you whisper.

He cradles your face and you see the spark of emotion glazing his eyes before he crashes his lips on yours once more.

It’s love.

As you enter the familiar Seoul Airport hand in hand with Chanyeol, you spot Baekhyun, your best friend, waiting for you, sporting a shit-eating grin.

He welcomes you with a hug before leaning down to whisper something only you could hear, “Where’s my thank you?”

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