#no one catches hold of him when he's in the streets of london or paris or when he's in Glastonbury or in all the holidays they've been in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

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De Amore

My fic for @aceomenszine is finally available on AO3!

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy. Full text below!

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.

“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”

“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”

“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”

“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”

“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”

“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”

“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”

“So, we might enjoy things as humans do, but never desire them the same way,” Aziraphale mused, smoothing his hands down the front of his stolen jacket. “But is love the longing for a connection with another, or the pleasure of that connection?”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to us, does it?”

He waited for Aziraphale to respond, but the angel simply continued walking, hands folded behind his back, eyes more distant than usual.

“So?” Crowley prodded after nearly a block in silence. “What brought this on?” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let me guess. Reading novels again? Sappy poetry? Getting…ideas?” He stepped ahead of Aziraphale and walked backwards, to ensure the angel saw his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. No response. Crowley shrugged, falling back into step. “Look, f’you want to try falling in love with a human, s’your business. Let me know how it goes. Just do it back in London, I don’t need that…drama getting back to my bosses.”

“That’s not it,” Aziraphale snapped, wringing his hands. “It’s not — it doesn’t even work that way, Crowley. Humans don’t just decide to fall in love!”

“They don’t cross an ocean and charge through a revolution for a snack, either.”

“Oh, never mind. Clearly you’re the expert here.” Aziraphale froze, glaring at a shop just ahead, and threw his hands up in disgust. “And now they’ve closed my favorite creperie! Why do I even bother? Might as well return to England and feast upon whatever lumpy brown bread the first tavern I pass serves.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Crowley hissed, turning down a side street and gesturing for Aziraphale to follow. “If you get locked up again, I’m not rescuing you a second time.” The angel’s lips twisted sourly. “Look, gourmet crepes aren’t really in demand right now, but I know a place. Might still be open.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and glared at the sky, thin grey clouds veiling the sun. He should probably just let Aziraphale stew in his own sullen displeasure. Might even give him an advantage — a distracted angel was easier to outsmart.

But Crowley hadn’t been in the business of thwarting Aziraphale for over a thousand years. Why oppose each other, when they could work…not together, but in tandem? Ensuring all their duties were fulfilled, their paperwork properly filed.

It was better this way. Less fuss all around, less inconvenience. Pleasanter conversation. More time for trips to the theater or quiet meals, either of which was a far better way to spend an evening than any sort of elaborate espionage.

He’d been looking forward to griping about his job over a mug of cider while Aziraphale worked his way through a plate of crepes, smiling and wiggling in his seat. Watching Aziraphale get excited over something was, in Crowley’s opinion, one of the best ways to pass the time.

Only the conversation had left Aziraphale annoyed, pouting and…Crowley studied him carefully, dark glasses imperfectly hiding his eyes. More than anything, Aziraphale looked hurt. A sight that always made Crowley’s stomach twist painfully.

He sighed, tossing back his head. “‘Love is an inborn suffering, proceeding from the sight and immoderate thought upon the beauty of another, for which cause above all other things one wishes to embrace the other and, by common assent, in this embrace to fulfil the commandments of love.’”[1]

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I don’t know. You asked me—!” Crowley walked faster, face growing hot. “It’s from some old treatise, right? Love, he says, is seeing someone beautiful and wanting sex. Then, when you have your fill…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“I see.” Aziraphale adjusted his sleeves. “I suppose that…makes sense.” But he still looked grim.

Up ahead, not quite along their path, stood one of Paris’s parks, gates now open to the public. Apart from some rubbish cluttering the entrance, it seemed well-maintained. Crowley tipped his head, inviting.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face. It always made Crowley feel light, that smile, however briefly it appeared.

They wandered in silence up the path, lined by trees here, flowerbeds there. Leaves had turned yellow and the grass was edged with brown, but the roses were still in bloom. Crowley paused to pluck a particularly well-formed bud.

As they crossed a bridge over a small watercourse, Aziraphale suddenly said, “Do you think it’s true, though? That — that treatise? Because it rather sounds like he didn’t see any difference between lust and love.”

“Mmh.” Crowley paused, gazing downstream, where a group of ducks swam contentedly. “As a demon? Yeah. Fits the party line. Humans don’t think of anything but their own pleasure, always wanting what they don’t have. Jealous, possessive, until something better comes along. Then it starts all over. If love and lust aren’t the same, well, they’re pretty close, right?”

“I see.” Aziraphale stepped beside him, holding out his red cap, now filled with grains of barley and cracked corn. They each took a handful and tossed it down. The ducks swam over eagerly, bobbing to catch the seeds before they drifted away.

“But as a being who’s been in the world nearly six thousand years?” Crowley threw another handful, then leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “Not so sure. Humans do too much that can’t be explained by simple pleasure. Besides, I’ve seen what they do when overwhelmed by lust, and what they do when overwhelmed by love and…dunno. S’not the same.”

More handfuls of grains as a second group of ducks approached.

“What d’you think, Angel?” Crowley prodded. “Must be something in all those books you read.”

“Oh, quite a lot,” Aziraphale assured him. “Much of it contradictory. Many poets will only talk about their beloved’s face, or eyes, but if it were simply a matter of beauty, surely everyone would fall in love with the same beauties.”

“Sometimes they do.” Crowley rolled some seeds between his palms. “S’where the jealousy comes in. But yeah. Gotta be more to it than that.”

“I hope you’re not planning to make those poor ducks sink.”

“What? Nk — no. Course not.” He threw the grains down and the ducks quickly swarmed, turning bright shades of pink and blue and violet as they ate.

“Crowley.”

“Oh, it’s not hurting anyone.” He glanced sideways to see Aziraphale pressing his lips together, struggling not to smile. Grinning, Crowley tossed down more enchanted grains. “Go on then.”

“Hmm? Ah, yes. Well, the overall impression is that love is…transformative. Changes the way one thinks and feels at all times. They speak of, oh, the sun shining brighter, foods tasting sweeter, winter blossoming into summer. Metaphors. Others speak of — of attraction, quickened pulse, sudden heat and so on, but that’s a passing thing, part of a — a particular moment of closeness. Surely, no human could maintain such a state for an hour, never mind weeks or years!” Aziraphale offered Crowley the last handful of grain in his cap. “And once that moment passes…”

“Back to the metaphors.” The ducks below were now spotted, striped, every color of the rainbow. One bore pure white wings, beside another with midnight black. Aziraphale chuckled, very softly, which made Crowley feel immensely satisfied. Dusting off his hands, he circled the angel and continued walking.

“Yes,” Aziraphale hurried to catch up, cap twisting in his hands. “I get the sense that the feeling is so obvious, so…universal, they never think to describe it.”

“How inconsiderate.” Crowley thought it over. “So, flash of heat, racing heart, sun gets brighter, then ten pages about the color of their eyes? That about it?”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale rubbed a finger across his lip. “Not always beauty, though. Some appear drawn by their partner’s clever mind, or acts of kindness. Some praise stories of bravery or great deeds, others fixate on meaningless symbols of wealth. But still, those only tell why one falls in love, not what it feels like.”

“Sounds like a sort of obsession.” Crowley furrowed his brow. “That treatise had a list of…sort of rules of love. Mostly about jealousy, really, don’t think the author thought much of women, but… ‘Every action of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.’”

“I see…so that, together or apart, one cannot help but think always of the other. That certainly aligns with the evidence.” He started to replace his cap, then paused, looking inside. “Anything else of use?”

“‘Love can deny nothing to love.’” Beside him, Aziraphale turned pink and a brilliant smile broke across his face, like the sun after a storm. He pulled from the cap the bright red rosebud Crowley had hidden within.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale slid the flower into his buttonhole, drinking in the way the delighted shiver ran across his shoulders. Then the angel looked up, hitting Crowley with the full force of his smile.

Stunning. Blinding. It stole Crowley’s breath away, wiped every thought from his mind.

One day, that smile would destroy him, and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“So, this creperie — are we close?”

“Ngh. Smh. Unh. Nearly. Another block or two.” The park’s gate stood just ahead, half shut, the bustling street beyond. Crowley quickly stepped ahead, pulling it open for Aziraphale. “You, ah, find the answer you needed?”

“I…think so, yes.” He rested his fingers on the gate — so close to Crowley’s he could feel their warmth — then quickly pulled away, folding his hands behind his back. “I’ve been trying to work out…well…whether I’m in love with you, Crowley.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that? “Oh.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale’s eyes darted nervously and he began to pace. “I-I want you to know, I don’t desire you. I’ve never felt that sort of attraction. And I’m not jealous by any means. I’m not even certain who I’m meant to be jealous of. But…” He turned back, tugging his jacket. “I think of you. Constantly. Every action, every experience reminds me of you. I go to a concert, and I can’t concentrate on the music, only whether you would enjoy it. I hear a joke and I imagine how you would laugh, or roll your eyes, and I can’t know a moment’s peace until I’ve shared it with you. And last month…when I was reprimanded…for days afterward I could think of nothing but how I wished you were there. When I finally found the strength to venture out, it was only from my determination to come here.”

“For…crepes?” Crowley offered stupidly.

“No, you silly creature, for you.” He stepped forward, reaching up as if to straighten Crowley’s lapels, but once again his hands dropped. “I hear your voice and no matter how dark my situation — no matter how absurd you look in the current fashion — I just…feel happy again.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and lifted his eyes — hopeful, fearful, vulnerable — to meet Crowley’s.

“Oh.” Something more was probably needed. “Yeah.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

“Well.” Aziraphale’s eyes dropped and he turned, trying to hide his expression. “Yes. I thought you should know.” He ducked his head and hurried through the gate. “Where — where is this creperie? We should try to arrive—”

“Me too.”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say anything. His mind was still ten minutes behind, struggling to catch up, but the pain on Aziraphale’s face hurt him like a blow to the chest.

The two words stopped Aziraphale in his tracks.

“I…I think about you, too.” Crowley stepped halfway through the gate, gripping the bar so tight it began to bend. “When I wake up, or fall asleep and…and away from you, here, I just…I miss you…but you — you idiot, with your crepes and your — your execution and…and then you smile and I just…” Blast! How could Aziraphale be so eloquent? Crowley swallowed and started over. “Look, m’trying to say…don’t think I can deny you anything. And. If that’s love…yeah. Me too.”

All this time, Aziraphale stood perfectly still, his back to Crowley. But now he turned, blue eyes furiously blinking. “That’s…ah…thank you. I know y-you hate being thanked but…” Aziraphale took one step closer, then another, until only inches separated them. “Thank you.”

“Nh.” He could so easily reach across that last bit of distance. Crowley didn’t know what that would accomplish, what he’d even do, but he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s gaze fell. “It…doesn’t change anything, does it? You’re still a demon, and I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley hissed, shocked at the fervor in his own voice. “We don’t need to play by their rules. We could — run off, or—”

“We can’t. Crowley, both our sides would — they’d find us, they’d destroy you.”

“I’m willing to risk it.” He reached for Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m not.” The angel jerked back, putting more distance between them, eyes wide. “Crowley that’s — that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I’m sorry, but no.”

“Fine,” Crowley growled, pulling away. “What do you want?”

“I want…” Aziraphale shut his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I want a shop in London, where I can surround myself with books and foods and everything I enjoy. I want my superiors to trust me, let me bring good into the world my own way, without sending me all over Creation at a moment’s notice and — and punishing me for a few miracles to make my life easier. I want us to go to plays and gardens and balls together, not for clandestine meetings but because we enjoy them. To be openly in each other’s company, without fear of reprisal. And…I’d like you to visit my shop and bring me flowers or sweets. I’d serve my very best wine and…we’d talk all night about…everything and nothing. And laugh together.” His eyes fluttered open and for the first time Aziraphale looked sure of himself. “I want what we already have. Only I want more of it.”

This time he didn’t move as Crowley reached out. Long fingers carefully adjusted the rosebud, standing it straighter in its buttonhole. “Yeah. I…I’d like that, too.”

“And you don’t want anything…physical?”

Crowley snorted. “M’not a human.” But he wondered if Aziraphale’s cheek was as soft as the rosebud’s petals. “I’d like to touch you. Your hand, your face. Your wings. Hear your voice as I fall asleep. Feel your fingers in my hair. Is that…too much?”

“No.” Aziraphale smiled gently. “That sounds perfect.”

“Maybe…” Crowley fidgeted with his glasses, shuffled his feet, but refused to step away. “If we’re careful…”

“The Arrangement is already dangerous enough. You must understand…”

Crowley closed his eyes. “I do. Nothing changes.” Except there were words now, to the feeling he had when he thought of his angel. And that changed everything. When he looked again, Aziraphale nodded, as if he felt the same.

“Right then.” Crowley circled around Aziraphale, sauntering back to the main road. “Let’s see if these crepes are worth risking the guillotine.”

“My dear fellow,” Aziraphale easily kept pace. “One bite of true Breton crepes will silence your doubts forever.”

“Breton, huh?”

“Oh, yes, far superior to any others.”

“If that’s so,” Crowley smirked, remembering Aziraphale in his cell, “s’a wonder you came to Paris. Particularly in such a…controversial outfit.”

“The city has…certain other attractions.”

Something warm and heavy wrapped across Crowley’s shoulders, invisible to his eyes, though he could feel the individual feathers tickle his neck. Aziraphale strolled beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, as if nothing were amiss.

Carefully, trying to look natural, Crowley scratched his shoulder, brushing his knuckles down a long flight feather, softer than any mortal bird’s.

Aziraphale smiled ever so slightly and flexed his wing, holding Crowley a little more tightly. An embrace that no one could see, no one could know about, except them.

“Dunno,” Crowley said. “Still seems pretty risky.”

“Yes. But I’m an incorrigible old fool. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Suppose I can understand,” Crowley said as he extended his own wing, wrapping it around Aziraphale’s waist. The angel’s composure broke as he wiggled, burying himself in invisible feathers. Crowley smiled, heat running through him, a warm spring day after a long cold winter. “After all, we’re not so different, you and I.”

[1] De Amore, Andreas Capellanus, c. 1190

So happy to finally share this!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ace omens #ineffable husbands #asexual ineffable husbands #ace omens zine #aziraphale #crowley #love confessions #feeding the ducks #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves his angel #what even is love #ace fanfiction #qpp #banter #my writing #ao3 link

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theshelbyclan · 4 years

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Childhood Sweethearts

Summary: You and Finn had been together for a while now and it was all going great. The only problem was, all of the brothers didn’t know yet

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon: hey can i request a Finnxreader where Finn got her pregnant and her brothers come in the Garrison with guns and all and are like "We dont care who you. That you're a shelby, but you got her pregnant and you're gonna marry her" and than Finn has to explain to his bros that he is kinda dating her for a year and some fluff please??? I got so many requests for my baby Finn and I’m ignoring how they changed him in season 5. Hope you like it!

Words: 2605

***

When you’d first met Finn, he’d been boxing. You had only been fourteen at the time and he was only thirteen, but he was a Shelby, so there were expectations. “Call yourself a Shelby?” the owner had kept on shouting out at him. And you could see Finn was really trying, but he just wasn’t that type of Shelby.

Your brothers were at the gym as well, which is why you were there. Women weren’t allowed, no exceptions. Well, except little sisters. You were let in when you came to pick them up and the youngest Shelby sister couldn’t be kept away, but apart from that, no women allowed.

And then it’d happened. Arthur went feral, everyone went crazy and Finn reacted like no one else could. And you watched him, calmly, but with interest. Afterwards, you handed him a towel. He suddenly looked young, not at all like he had seemed while fighting, and he’d said: “No women allowed.” You had smirked and replied, “Then go.” *** And so the two of you had become friends. First it had just been talking on the streets about brothers and life in general. Because if there was one thing the two of you had in common, it was the burden of having too many older brothers. While the Shelby’s had big plans with young Finn, yours seemed to want to keep you ‘sweet and innocent’ for as long as possible. Neither fit the pair of you really.

“What would you do?” Finn asked you one day, “You know, if you could do anything.” “Hmm…” you thought out loud, while trying to balance on some forgotten piece of scrap, “I could open a salon, or make ice-cream all day, or I could fly a hot-air balloon to Paris!” You were always the one making up stories and Finn would just sit there and listen. He was definitely the quiet one. In his world of chaos and violence, he could do with a bit of imagining. “I could buy a camel!” you laughed out loud, “Go to Egypt dressed as a man and raid one of the pyramids. I’d become the richest woman alive and no one would ever even know that it was all stolen, including my fake name.”

Finn grinned, “You’d probably get away with it too…” “Or, I could steal some expensive jewels and seduce the man guarding them,” you spun around a lantern post feigning seducing it, “I’d kiss him when he’d catch me and tell him I’ll split the profit with him. I’d say to meet me in Paris at midnight, but never show up. Then, years later, after I’ve come back from Mexico…” “Mexico?” Finn called out, enjoying this story way too much. “Mexico, obviously, where I’ve been hiding?” you replied with a face like it was obvious, “After Mexico, I’d go back to find this man and tell him to follow me. He would, of course, and I’d tell him to meet me in London. Then, and this is the best bit, I go back to Paris to get the jewels and blame it on him!” Finn grabbed your hand and spun you around, both laughing, “Y/N? Ever thought of becoming a Peaky Blinder?” “That!” you joked, “If I could do anything, I’d take over the Peaky Blinders and…” “Move to Mexico,” he finished. “Move to Mexico,” you said softly, because the two of you were suddenly no longer dancing. Standing closely, noses almost touching, you were, for the first time, lost for words. “Ask me,” Finn practically whispered. You raised your eyebrows slightly in question. “Ask me, Y/N,” he repeated, “What I would do if I could do anything.”

You indulged, “What would you do, Finn?” “I’d marry you.” “But we’re only fourteen,” you blushed a little. He was completely serious however. The two of you were always laughing and playing, but his eyes were no longer sparkling with childhood joy. Something else had settled in there, “Then I’ll wait, for now.” After that one evening, the two of you became inseparable. ***

Sneaking out at night was easy, especially after the two of you just watched how Ada did it. As you got older, your games of truth or dare became more and more dangerous. Late at night, you met in dangerous places and together, you grew up at midnight. Making love under the bridge, kissing quickly in the Garrison when no saw and holding hands under the table, it was all still a game to you. But the love, that was real, and it only kept on growing. How no one found out about it was a miracle and a tragedy at the same time. You’d grown up with five older brothers and a part of you now wondered if they even acknowledged your existence. Surely, you two were not that subtle? And besides, you had the horrible habit of talking too much and had often divulged a little, but they never picked up on it. Guess they were too busy with their own lives, which was just as well, because loving a Shelby was not a preferable situation. But sneaking off to secret rendezvous was easy, concealing love was also manageable, but hiding a belly with a baby inside of it? That was going to be hard. “They are literally going to kill me, Finn,” you sobbed. Why did you even sob? You never cried before. “Don’t worry,” he put his arms around you and spoke soft and lovingly, “They’ll kill me, not you.”

“That is not fucking helpful!” “I know,” he looked down, “Sorry…” The two of you were sitting in a closed Garrison. Luckily, the pub was never truly closed for a Shelby. Here you could find some peace at least and no one there to disturb you. “A baby though, Y/N,” you could see the sparkle in his eyes, “Our little baby!” You sighed deeply, “I don’t think you understand how serious this is.” “I don’t think you understand how wonderful this is!” “Finn…” “No,” he interrupted you, which he never ever did, “We made that.We did. Like, I loved you so much and you put up with me for so long and then this happened. Can you imagine? That’s amazing, isn’t it?” You couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness and excitement, “Someone did tell you where babies come from, right?” He smiled broadly and kissed you suddenly. “Finn?” you asked, a little unsure, “I think my mum knows I’m pregnant.” “How would she know?” “She knows these things,” you shrugged, “She had seven kids.” Finn frowned, “What do we do?” “Well, if she knows, we’ll find out soon enough.” You hadn’t even finished your sentence properly, when a loud noise came from the door of the Garrison and five big men walked in. They didn’t look pleased. “On your feet, boy!” one of them bellowed. Finn had no idea what to do, so he decided it would be best to get up.

“This him?” one of your brothers now turned to you.

You nodded solemnly, “This is indeed Finn Shelby.” Another asked, “This the one that knocked you up?”

“That’s a charming way of putting it…” you protested. “Well, how do you want us to put it?” “You could ask me if I’m alright?” you suggested, “Or: is this the boy of your dreams? Or: is this the man who will take you to Mexico? Or…” “Alright, we get the fucking idea, Y/N,” your eldest brother interrupted you, “No need to get poetic about it.” From the corner of your eye, you could see Finn had sat back down again. While you and your brothers continued arguing, he started downing whiskey. Did you blame him? Not really, what else was there for him to do but wait really.

And suddenly one of your brothers turned away from you and pointed at Finn, “Right, now I know you’re a Shelby and we know how you do things!” “Do things?” Finn genuinely didn’t understand. “You’ll not be taken our sister to some fucking doctor.” “Finn wouldn’t,” you quickly said, “He’s not like that.” Finn still didn’t understand though. “You don’t even know him,” your brother said, “Just because he fucked you…” “Oi!” Finn called out suddenly, lifting one hand to his cap. But your brothers were big and annoyed, so they picked Finn up like it was nothing and simply placed him outside the pub. If you weren’t pregnant and miserable, you could’ve died of laughter.

“Okay, listen…” you started, but they didn’t let you finish. Through the door they started shouting at Finn about taking responsibility and pretty soon you decided it was no use trying to get them to listen. So you rolled your eyes, sat back and waited for the storm to be over. And then there were more voices coming from outside the pub and you sat up to try and get a look at them. An angry voice seemed to be reprimanding Finn and a calm, low voice kept on interrupting the other. Without warning, the three oldest Shelby brothers barged in. Now, this was all you needed: more brothers in the room. There were eight now, all yelling, and slowly, you could see Finn moving back in through the door. You two exchanged glances, admitting defeat and decided to just wait.

“I don’t give a fuck who you people are…” one of your brothers was now actually screaming. “Let’s not play games, eh?” Tommy replied calmly, “You know exactly who we are.” “He will do the fucking right thing!” “And he will!” “That little rat may have thought he could just have his way with her and not carry the consequences...” “WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU CALLING A RAT…” Finn crept down next to you and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Should we tell them?” “How?” you mouthed back, “They’re kind of busy right now, wouldn’t you think?” “Let’s wait,” Finn suggested. So, the two of you got back to watching eight grown men bicker like small children.

“This was never her idea!” “Wasn’t Finn’s either, he doesn’t even know how to spell his own name, isn’t that right, Arthur!” “She’s nineteen! She’s just a child!” “She might be your sister, but she’s a grown woman.” “Okay, why the fuck are we talking about Y/N? Heis responsible and he is going to marry her.” “I agree,” Tommy suddenly said. So, Finn decided this was the best time to try again, “Actually, if you’d all listen for a second…” “I think you’ve done enough, mate,” one of your loudest brothers interrupted quickly. “But, me and Y/N…” Then Arthur was the one to push his little brother back in his seat, “Shut up Finn and let us handle this. Full of frustration, the youngest Shelby sat back down, only to stand back up again. He picked up another bottle of whiskey and started pacing the room a little. “Stay off the whiskey, Finn!” one of his brothers scolded, “Here, eat this,” and he handed him an apple. With eyes wide, he stared at the sudden piece of fruit in his hand and exclaimed, “I’m not a fucking child anymore, John.” But his brother just winked and said, “Apparently,” and went back to arguing. So Finn walked and bit his nails and paced and pondered and decided there was nothing left to do, but eat the apple and jump in the Cut.And you couldn’t help yourself. A small giggle escaped you mouth and soon after you could no longer contain yourself and burst out laughing. “What’s the matter with you?” Finn hissed. “Don’t know…” you hiccupped, “but by the time they’ve finished I’ve already given birth probably!” And out of nowhere, all the brothers fell silent. Tommy, as always, took the word, “Right, this is how we’ve decided to do it…” “You’vedecided?” you repeated angrily. “Shut up, Y/N, you’re in enough trouble as it is,” one of your brothers bit.

But the great Thomas Shelby held up a hand and silenced the room with a gesture, “We’ve decided that the two of you are getting married. Now, you might hardly now each other, but the damage is done, eh?” “Actually…” “Finn, shut up, I’m still talking. Now, don’t worry Y/N, Finn will take good care of you. And Finn, you do the deed, you pay the consequences. The marriage is in a fortnight. Congratulations.” The room went quiet again and all eyes were on the two of you. You could now actually taste blood and realised you’d been biting your lip to keep from laughing a little too hard. Finn looked like he was either going to explode or just disappear. Almost inaudible, he muttered, “In a fortnight…” “Yes,” his brother confirmed, “Gives you a chance to get to know your bride.” “I’VE KNOWN HER FOR FOUR FUCKING YEARS, TOM”

So he did explode. “EVER SINCE SHE WAS FOURTEEN AND I WAS THIRTEEN, WE’VE BEEN TOGETHER.” “Finn, babe,” you put a hand on his arm, “Calm down.” He turned to you, his eyes still hilariously wide, “Why the fuck do they never listen? Pinch me or something… can you even see me? Am I real? Am I a ghost?” So you did as any woman would and slapped him in the face, “Stop the dramatics. You’re here.” “Ask her,” one of his brothers urged him, “Ask her properly.” Finn sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, “I did ask her ABOUT FOUR YEARS AGO.” You nodded wisely, “He did.” “Well, what did she say?”

“That we were too young?” ‘Too fucking right!” one of your brothers shouted out. Within seconds, eight men were once again yelling without listening to each other, and the Garrison became chaos for a second time.

“Okay, wait!” you held up both hands and much to your surprise, everyone stopped talking. Guess there really was power in being pregnant, “This is good news, right? We both want to get married! Yay?” And then they all started again! New subjects for arguments were found in the fact that you’d been sneaking out, that they let their brother be with you, where the wedding would be and who with, and there seemed to be no end to it. So, Finn put the apple in his pocket and with a sudden certainty to it, grabbed you by the hand and marched you out the door of the Garrison. There, in the filthy streets of Small Heath, he kissed you long and deep. “How about it then?” he asked. You smiled back at this wonderful boy and said, “No, let me do it. You already got to do it when we were kids.” “Okay,” he agreed at once. “Finn, if you could do anything, what would you do?” “I’d marry you in a fortnight!” he almost shouted out. And you deeply into his eyes, wondering how you’d even managed to find such a soft, sweet and still strong man, and finally said, “Will you marry me?” “Yes,” he said almost before you could finish the question. After another long, long kiss he got this sudden twinkle in his eyes and suggested, “Let’s go home.” “Home?” you laughed. “Yeah,” he pointed to the Garrison, “They’re all busy in there, right? The house is empty…” You looked down at your bulging stomach and joked, “Damage’s already done.”

Hand in hand you walked through the streets, feeling like the king and queen of Birmingham.

“Mexico then?” a small smile was tugging at his mouth now too. You nodded, feeling more in love than ever, “Mexico.”

*** Masterlist

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

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Too Late: Marianne (commission for miner249er)

Chapter 9 of the commission for @miner249er

Previous Work

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Summary: Marianne wanted to be back in Paris as a shoulder to cry on, as a friend, not a warning.

Marianne stepped out of doors of the train with a hesitation that felt like weights attached to her ankles. Those that saw her probably thought it was because of her age, she wished it was due to her age, but no. Her hesitation stemmed from the reason she was back in Paris at all and because of how much Paris had changed since what Fu was calling, ’the incident.’ What happened was no mere ‘incident’ and to call it that was a horrid understatement, but she supposed she understood why her love referred to it as such. Fu did what he did best, he felt guilty, and it was something she wished she could help shoulder but in the end he never let her. But this was not something he could just shoulder and deal with himself, this was bigger than them, bigger than Paris and she came to warn Fu. She just hoped he listened to her. Wang Fu was a kind man but he was a man haunted by his failures to the point that they are all he saw. He was blind to anything that wasn’t his redemption for the longest time, and it broke her heart.

Hopefully with age and everything that has happened, he was willing to have an open heart and ears. Marianne honestly didn’t know what she would do if he was drowning in his guilt and was too focused on his mistakes to listen to her warning, probably smack him upside the head like she used to do in their youth but still. She loved the man but he was stubborn when it came to self sabotaging himself, she was always the level headed (and best looking) one. As she walked the streets of Paris she couldn’t help but think of the young Ladybug she had become acquainted with the last time she had been in the City of Love. She had been a wonderful, brave, young girl. Yes she made a mistake but she owned up to it and she didn’t let the mistake weigh her down. Yes, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been an astounding Ladybug, which made what she needed to tell Fu all the more worrisome.

Truthfully she was worried what his reaction would be the closer she came to the location they agreed to meet at. When she saw the stone steps that would lead her to the Jardin de la Vallée Suisse she almost hesitated following their path, but she simply took in a deep breath and walked. It was a beautiful park that was no doubt, but whatever joy she would have felt getting to bask in the park and the statue it housed was dampened by the pressure to share the danger she had come across and the prophecy it held. The thought made it easy to pick up speed until she saw Fu standing by the artificial pond that housed carp. The sight of him brought a smile to her face and a pang of worry to her heart.

“Hello dear.” She said softly as she moved to join him beside the pond. She noticed that they were thankfully alone in the park, though that wasn’t all that surprising given it was a bit difficult to find if you didn’t know where you were heading or were not a local.

“Marianne, hello, how was your travels?” Fu greeted with a small smile before giving her two brief kisses, one on each cheek, a gesture she returned happily.

“Well. How are you my dear Fu?”

The man beside her was silent for a while, like he couldn’t quite find the right words but eventually he did answer. “I am doing as well as I can be. It’s hard, I see her everywhere. Marinette...she truly was an extraordinary girl, I only hope she accepts my apologies when we find her.”

“It’s good you haven't lost hope.”

“It was not easy I will admit, but I see kids standing up, being heroes in her name, I see the way she touched everyone she ever met, there was no way I could give up or wallow in sadness. Not when I know I am not the only one hurting.” Fu watched the carp in the pond swim as he spoke. Marianne politely ignored the tears she saw in his eyes.

“She was a remarkable young woman.”

“Yes. I do not doubt she is still being remarkable...wherever she is. Now, what have you come here for my friend?” Fu asked as he looked at Marianne. She ignored the pang in her heart at the ‘friend’ even if she knew she held his heart and affections, she did her best to look unaffected as she looked over the swimming carp.

“Well, with Hawkmoth and Mayura dealt with I no longer have to hide, and as much as I would adore this to be a date and catch up moment, I fear I bring unsettling news to say the least.” She answered honestly, her cheeks a little warm at the admission of the date, no matter how old time told her she was, she was still that young headstrong, lovestruck girl she had been when she and Fu had met. She was sad and hesitant to break the ease of the air around them, but they would have time for pleasantries later she reasoned.

“I figured that was the case. Come, let’s sit my dear Annie.” Fu gestured over to a bench that was almost as hidden as the park itself. It was obscured by surrounding trees, just enough in the shade to be comfortable, but enough in the sun to not be chilled by the shadows. Having heard the old nickname, she happily followed and let him help her sit.

“I think it goes unsaid that even while I had to be hidden, I did not stay still.” She started after a while of them both just sitting there, letting themselves breathe in a moment of peace.

“You never could stay still. Even back then.” Back when he ran and left her behind.

“As my mother used to say, I am as stubborn as a bull, and as my old teachers would say, I can not sit still when there are things I want to be done.” Marianne chuckled fondly at old memories. “When I went into hiding, I must admit I did not want to stray far just in case you ever needed me. I did leave France, as I didn’t know the depth of Hawkmoth’s powers or if he had found ways to grow said powers. I decided to hide in London. It’s a good spot for an old bird like myself to go unnoticed.”

“You are many things Marianne, old is not one of them.”

“Flatterer.” Marianne chuckled even if she felt herself flush at the comment. “That is beside my point and you know it.”

“Perhaps.” Fu mused with a strained smile. “Perhaps I am trying to avoid the conversation we have to have, given your words and body language, it is not something that will bring joy in these trying times.”

Marianne took a moment just to look at the blue of the sky and breathe in the air before she looked at the man beside her. “It is not, but you can’t run from every bad storm that comes on the horizon. It’s better to be prepared and have shelter you know will help against the storm.” She took a hold of Fu’s closest hand in both of hers and gave it a squeeze. She could feel the tremble of his hand, no doubt mirrored by the other.

It took several moments before Fu no longer trembled, it took longer before either was ready to let go of the other’s hand, but there would be time for that later. Hopefully. “You are right.” Fu said once he found his voice.

“I always am.” Marianne quipped softly making Fu chuckle in response before his eyes found hers. She could tell he wasn’t happy, but he was as ready as he could be to hear what drove her out of hiding besides Hawkmoth’s defeat. What drove her back to him other than their romantic feelings. “I am also not one to beat around the bush. While in hiding I had to keep myself busy, as you know I am not one to dawdle. I asked the spirits around me if they needed help or if they knew of anything...sketchy, going on in London.”

“Marianne! That’s incredibly risky of you, especially when you were in hiding. I know you can’t help communicating with the spirits part, but to purposefully seek out trouble…” Fu fretted and admonished all at once. As much as it irritated her, it also impressed Marianne. Ever since she was a young girl she had been able to sense, see, and communicate with spirits, apparently this was something that all women in her family possessed so it was no surprise to her mother when a young Marianne was found to be speaking to what others only saw as air. It was around then that her mother taught her how to hone in her skills and how best to use them, of course her mother also warned her about her gift and what it could bring, but their family never ran from something and they never left someone who needed help. Even if that someone was a spirit. Especially if that someone was a spirit. It was kind of their unspoken job to help spirits out, whether to accomplish any unfinished business or simply help them pass along a message to a loved one. Some instances she even had to pass on messages not for loved ones...those ones were always the most interesting.

Sure, in her quest to help spirits she always did run into the more dangerous ones, but she never backed down. That was not how she was raised, and that was just not her. She saw a problem and she met in head on, and in that way her and Fu would always differ. “I have always been this way Wang Fu, and I always will.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you meant and my response remains the same. Now, to continue, the local spirits of course asked for help passing on messages, finding a missing item, but a couple spoke of something that intrigued me. Something that resulted in their deaths. A group. They never gave this group a name, but they all spoke similarly about it. It consists of a lot of not so nice people, people who do not have good intentions, people who purposefully seek the demise of others. It worried me that such a group was meeting and apparently it wasn’t even known by local authorities, or if it was then it was operating under the blindness of the people and the willfully negligent back of the authorities.” Marianne began as she looked out over the park, she hadn’t noticed them before but she could see wandering souls, spirits who stopped to listen to her, and she could see the spirits of the animals that once lived there going through the motions of their once-lives.

“I was worried, understandably, but the spirits merely wanted me to retrieve their belongings from this group so they could be sent to their families or wherever else they wanted. Of course I agreed,” Marianne paused for a second at Fu’s noise of indignation, “it was the least I could do for the poor souls. They showed me where this group liked to meet up, where they met them and their respective ends. It was an unassuming film studio, very professional looking, not at all the type of place you would expect a basically evil cult to meet. So I did what I did best, acted like an old woman who just found a favorite place to feed some birds. I staked the place out.”

“They...the group didn’t suspect anything?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Marianne answered honestly. “Their meeting place was in the basement, I will admit it was difficult finding a way down there without alerting anyone or being caught on camera. I say finding the hidden room was more difficult, that, that took several days. Thankfully the spirits were more than willing to lend a hand. Once in the room I took my time looking around, I had some of the more...sentient spirits on watch should anyone come down and try and enter the room. To be honest it looked like a fancy conference room more than anything my mind conjured up when I thought of some evil group lurking in the underground of a business.”

The mahogany round conference table and the red cushioned matching chairs that surrounded it while the LED lights shined off it was something imprinted in her mind. The whiteboards on the walls were more of a shock than the altar in the corner, it looked like it was made from the stump of a tree, cut tall for its purpose, the top of it was an oval shaped plate of prophecy stone. On the prophecy stone was a long tapestry that was falling off both of the wider sides, it had pulled Marianne in. The energy, sometimes it felt like it was still pulling at her, even here in Paris when she thought of it too hard. The tapestry was the whole reason she reached out and made the trip to Paris, more accurately what was on the tapestry and what it meant. Of course she took photos on her phone, and she did help the spirits get their personal items back but that was another story. Marianne took her phone out of her purse and pulled up the pictures from the hidden folder on her phone before passing the device to Fu.

At the sharp intake he made, she resumed. “Besides the spirits' belongings I found that tapestry on a pedestal of sorts that was made of prophecy stone. By the name I bet you can gather what exactly this tapestry is supposed to be.”

“A prophecy…” Fu breathed out.

Marianne nodded her head before looking forward, she knew Fu would look at the rest of the pictures as she spoke. “Not just any prophecy. One that speaks of darkness and chaos. Brought upon not only Europe, but the world by one named Jörmungandr. Fu...this group seeks the secrets of what I could translate and make out to be some sort of secret tribe of.”

“Vikings…” Fu cut in with wide eyes.

“We both know the Vikings had many tribes, many hidden and not known to us, many that knew magic, and from what I see on that tapestry there and the documents I managed to take pictures of as well, this specific tribe can summon and control daemons, demons.” Marianne clarified.

“The demons...on the tapestry, that is what the creatures are supposed to be?” Fu asked in a small voice. She could hear the dread.

“Yes.”

“They look an awful lot like...well like dragons…” Fu’s voice was tight, and honestly Marianne couldn’t blame him, when she saw the tapestry she nearly threw up from the shock and the panic. If this prophecy came true, if this secret tribe was found, the world was doomed.

“My thoughts exactly...I...I will be honest, I believe in many things, Wang Fu...but dragons had never been on the list. I have heard of people summoning daemons of many designs, but never dragons. This is...this is bigger than Paris. Bigger than France.”

It was quiet for a long time, how long? Marianne didn’t know, but it felt like an eternity. “This...this will need the help of the Miraculous.” Fu said gravely.

“I agree, which is why I brought it to you...and, well, there is more, the prophecy, this Jörmungandr...She is said to command an army of dragons, one so big it would blacken the sky as they flew. She is too bring the fire rain, the toxic smoke, the thunderous roars loud and shrill enough to crack the earth. Jörmungandr is to devour the very world.” Marianne shakily announced and Fu looked down at the pictures of the tapestry in dawning fear.

“...This will require Ladybug.” He grew paler and paler as the seconds passed. Marianne followed to do the same as she realized he didn’t truly see all that was being shown to him and her heart was squeezed painfully in an iron grip as it dawned on her she would have to point out the heartbreakingly bad news he did not see, or refused to see in his grief. But he did not recognize her guilty panic as he continued to ramble. “I will have to double down on my efforts to find Marinette! She is one of the strongest Ladybug’s in history, we will need her! I will have to study the Grimoire to see if there are any spells that can locate her and work harder with Tikki to do so. And we will create a team! Bigger and better than the past one, this will require every Miraculous I believe, and Marinette has always been such a good judge of character it probably won’t take long to form the team. I’ll have to speak with the Kwami about this as well, as well as Adrien and-”

“Fu.” Marianne didn’t shout but she said his name with such authority and urgency that he stopped his ramble and looked over at her, she wished he hadn’t because she could no longer hold in her guilt ridden tears.

“Marianne? What’s wrong? I...I understand this is a daunting thing to learn but we know now and can prepare. It will be okay, everything will be okay as soon as we find Marinette and get started on the preparations.” Fu said as though his words brought the most absolute soothing powers. It made Marianne swallow around the lump in her throat.

“My darling Fu, don’t you see? Jörmungandr is Marinette.” Marianne finally was able to announce. It didn’t make her feel any better, especially as she watched Fu look back down at her phone, up at her, back down, before he zoomed in to the figure on the tapestry and lost any color he had regained from before.

“No. No! No it can’t be her! It can’t! She is too pure to ever...to ever..”

“I think past circumstances show anything can happen, and anyone can break. But not all is lost! This is merely a prophecy! It is not written in stone, it is not written in the stars, this doesn’t have to happen...but I do agree with your earlier idea. We will need to double down, pull out every stop, every resource, and find Ms. Marinette...before what is prophesied comes true. We will need to prevent this from happening, no matter the consequences.”

“Come. I think we have much to plan...and...and I will need help telling Tikki all of this. I do not believe she will take it well if it is me who tells her of Marinette’s...possible fate.”

“I can do that. I’m here to stay, and I’m here to help. Let’s go.”

Marianne politely looked away as Fu wiped the tears off his face, they had been so silent she hadn’t even noticed them before. “Let’s.”

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isthisthingeven0n · 3 years

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you’re still here : s.r

spencer watched you die in his arms, believing you were gone forever. but when he learns the truth that you’re alive in london, he can’t help but wonder why you’ve hidden away for so long. (2.4k)

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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

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Salem, Oregon

“No, no, no Y/n, please,” Spencer pleads as he holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as your body becomes weaker by the passing second. “please don’t go,” His cries intensify as his arms shake, watching as your eyes begin to close. “no, please.”

“I’m sorry,” You manage to whisper as tears fall from Spencer’s eyes, the last sight you ever saw as your eyes closed, and your head fell back.

“No,” Spencer mutters, shaking you lightly. “no, you can’t be, no!” His cries turn to yells as Morgan approaches him slowly, resting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as it shakes violently.

“Reid,” Morgan sighs, afraid to look down and see you lifeless in Spencer’s arms. “it’s over, I, I’m sorry.”

Looking over his shoulder, the rest of the team with solemn faces walk over and shield around Spencer whilst the police take care of Jason Lodgings; your murderer.

“Come on, Spence,” JJ speaks softly as she kneels beside Spencer as tears fill her eyes.

“I’m not leaving her.” Spencer states firmly, still not letting you go from his embrace.

“Reid,” Hotch calls out, his voice firm as he stands tall, watching as Lodgings walks away in handcuffs, glancing down with sorrow at the blood oozing from your cream jumper, dripping onto the wooden floorboards. “we have to go.” Hotch tells the team as they slowly rise to their feet, not wanting to start an argument with their superior.

Closing his eyes, Spencer releases a shaky breath as he gently lowers you to the ground. He pushes your hair out from your face and brushes his fingers across your cheek for the last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” Spencer whispers to you as he stands up and turns around, ignoring JJ’s open arms and walks out.

London, England - Two years later

It was always going to catch up with you, this life was a mere facade for your sake to have a sense of normality, but normality was never something you wanted.

Nearly two years had passed by since they last saw you. You hadn’t seen Garcia flirting with Morgan, heard JJ talk about Henry with such joy or avoided the stern looks Hotch shot over when you joked with Rossi and Emily for two years. But the one thing you’ve missed more than anything was seeing Spencer smile. You missed everything about Spencer, but seeing his smile brought a sense of indescribable joy.

This was never going to last forever, and you knew that coming into the situation. Hotch and Emily helped you figure out what to do, where to go in order to keep you safe. But keeping you safe meant everyone believing you were dead in the eyes of Jason Lodgings and his team, otherwise, they’d kill your team, your family off one by one just to get to you.

Having experienced the trauma from Emily’s ‘death’ you knew this wasn’t going to be easy on the team. You were lying in Spencer’s arms, close to death as you heard him cry for you. Every part of your body screamed to react, to tell him you’d see him again soon. If only you could have, just to provide him with some sense of relief in the long term. Yet if you did, it would’ve ruined the entire plan.

Wandering through Hyde Park, you knew he was close by. Maybe he had seen you already and was too afraid to believe it. The last time you spoke to anyone you knew was a year ago in Paris with Emily.

* Paris, France - One year Ago *

“How are they all?” You question as she sits down opposite you, files in hand as she places them on the table.

“They’re healing,” She answers, sliding the files across as you grab your bag, putting them inside without any hesitation. “it’ll get easier, but they’ll always miss you.” Emily sighs knowingly. “That contains everything you’ll need to get to London and set up a life there. But please, don’t trust anyone easily, Y/n.” She warns you as you nod.

Rising to your feet, you shrug your bag back onto your shoulder as you look down to one of your oldest friends for the last time. “Thank you, Emily.” You smile to her, wishing you could say more.

“Stay safe, okay?” She tells you, unable to form more words as thousands hover behind her lips. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

With a nod, you turn on your heels and walk down the street, not daring to look back as you’ve got to carry on.

Exhaling deeply, you bury your hands further into your coat pockets. Autumn was approaching as the Summer nights came to an end. You can’t help but kick through the piles of leaves that line the pathways as children giggle with their parents behind you.

“Did you know after June 21st, the Summer Solstice the sun’s direct rays will begin to shift southward from the Tropic of Cancer toward Earth’s equator?” You can’t help but tense as you hear his voice, filled with pain behind you. “As a result, the summer days become shorter, but that isn’t noticeable for a few weeks until late August when we near Fall.”

With a heavy heart, you begin to turn around and face the one person you owe the most to.

Your eyes remain locked on his feet, an old pair of sneakers lined with dried mud. Slowly, you raise your gaze past his trousers and toward the knitted sweatshirt vest, one you remember vividly even after all this time. As your eyes reach his shoulders, you can see his hair is long again and you can’t help but want to reach out and run your fingers through it like you once did.

“Hi,” You breathe out, unable to meet his scared gaze. “hi, Spencer.” You mutter, tearing apart the tissue in your left pocket as your nerves spread through your system, igniting undiscovered anxieties about this situation.

Spencer remains silent, taking in the sight before him. He never thought he’d see you again, the last time he saw you he held your lifeless body in his arms as he cried for you to stay with him. Yet you’re here, in London, alive.

“Do you wanna sit down?” You motion to the nearest vacant bench, and Spencer walks alongside you without saying a word.

Sitting down beside him, the gap between you feels too big. You’re used to the times of sitting together on the jet, resting your head on his shoulder and drifting off peacefully.

“Been up to much whilst here?” You ask, unsure what else to say. You can see out of the corner of your eye he’s looking straight ahead at the squirrels scaling the trees like buildings in the city.

“Why?” Spencer breaks his silence, his voice firm with you which takes you back by surprise.

“I,” You pause, lowering your head in defeat as you stare at the faint scar on your hand from the initial knife wound that Jason struck you with. “I had no choice.” You admit, hearing the gunfire as you blink away the memory.

“Everyone has a choice, Y/n, always.” He reminds you and just hearing him say your name causes your heart to drop. “You could’ve told us, we would’ve kept you safe, you know I,” Spencer pauses as he exhales his frustration. “we could’ve protected you.”

“I know, Spence,” You mutter, now turning to look up at him for the first time. “but I couldn’t do it, Hotch and Emily assured everyone would be safer this way.” You try to explain as you see the pain that lines his eyes, the heartache held in his gaze as he focuses on you.

He looks older, still sleep-deprived, but there’s a hint of happiness in the lines that surround his lips. A reassurance that he does have good days, the one thing you wished he'd have since you left.

“So you just left knowing we thought you died in my arms? Do you have any idea how I felt?” He’s angry, and rightfully so. “I, I thought I meant more to you than that, Y/n.” His anger subsides as his voice softens, his defences down.

You can’t help but reach out as you look at your hand on top of his, not daring to move it as you study his reaction.

“You’re the most important person to me, Spencer.” You reason, feeling his hand take a hold of yours, resting it in his palm as he curls his fingers over your hand, refusing to let go. “That’s why I had to let you believe I was gone, as Lodgings’ team would know, they’d always know and you would be in danger because of me.”

Spencer shakes his head. “We would’ve found a way, we, we,” He stumbles over his words as you squeeze his hand.

“You think me faking my death was plan A, Spence?” You chuckle, noticing a faint smile crossing his lips. “That was plan Z, actually version 3 plan Z if we’re being specific.”

“Did you ever plan on coming back?” Spencer quietly questions as his words linger around you for a moment as you slip your hand out from his.

“What did Emily tell you, Spence?” You ask, looking up at him as you hide your hands in your coat pockets, picking at the tissue once more.

“Besides the fact you’re alive and in London?” He nervously chortles, catching you rolling your eyes playfully. “She said you were doing okay, and that you were safe here.”

“I am, with Lodgings’ team having been sentenced, I’m no longer a target to them. My life is my own again, I can finally carry on living it.” Looking up, you watch as pigeons fly overhead, swarming down on the chunks of bread left for the swans. “But I made an agreement with Hotch, I’d stay away for at least three years. Three years to ensure my safety and for Lodgings’ team to be dismantled and dealt with.”

“Three years.” Spencer repeats, and you nod along. “You’re not planning on coming home, are you?” Your silence answers his question without you needing to respond. “I understand, Y/n. Three years is a long time to be gone from us all, and people change.” He reasons to himself more than to you. “I, we all thought you were gone, and finding out you’re alive I,” His voice trails off as he clenches his jaw, fighting his emotions that have been pent up for so long.

“Spence,” You mumble his name as tears fall from his eyes. “I want to come home, I do. I just don’t know if it’s home anymore.”

“Home is where the heart is.” Spencer comments.

“Elvis Presley.” You chuckle, lifting your hand up as you wipe away his tears, feeling him tense momentarily from your touch.

“Please don’t go, Y/n.” Spencer whispers as he lifts his hand up, resting it on top of yours as you cup his cheek. “I want to be selfish, I don’t want to lose you again if I don’t have to.”

Tears glaze your eyes as Spencer scans your face for any uncertainty. “Six months, Spence.” The words are barely audible for anyone passing by, but you know he heard you.

“One hundred and eighty-two point five days.” He nods as you lower your hand from his cheek, but he still keeps his on top of yours. “Then you’ll come home?”

“I can’t promise, Spence.” You know lying would be useless with him, you were never the most confident liar around him. “But before I go, I just want to tell you something.”

“Anything.” Spencer responds in a heartbeat, his entire body facing you now as you lower your gaze and take a steady breath.

“When you held me in your arms as I was,” Even after all this time, you still struggle saying the word. “well, fading, there was one thing I couldn’t help but think as you pleaded for me to stay.”

Spencer edges closer, your thighs touching as the previous gap between you both on the bench is gone. “What was it?”

“I wanted to tell you how much I care for you, how much I love you. And I wanted to thank you for being there for me through everything.” Your eyes remain locked on his as you pour your heart out to him, knowing if you don’t say it now, you never will. “But I didn’t have enough life in me to say all that then.” You nervously laugh. “So I thought I’d say it now, as it’s still true. You are a wonderful person Spencer Reid.”

A comfortable silence falls between you both as echoes of children's laughter surrounds you. And for the first time in years, you feel perfectly content.

“You know, Rossi once told me something,” Spencer speaks up, looking down at your hand as he brushes his thumb over the scar Jason caused. “scars show us where we have been, they do not dictate where we are going.”

“Wise words from a wise man.” You comment quietly as Spencer pauses.

“I know you have scars, Y/n. Externally and internally. But I’ll always be here, wherever you chose to be.” A small sweet smile lines Spencer’s lips as you focus on him, wishing there was so much more you could say. “And I’ll always love you, I’ll always miss you. But if I know you’re healing, then that is all that matters.” He lifts your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly before lowering it back to your lap, unaware of your heart-shattering in your chest.

“I’ll see you soon, Spence.” You tell him as he stands up, hands resting in his jacket pockets as he sways back and forth on his heels.

“One hundred and eighty-two point five days, Y/n.” He reminds you, and you can’t help but laugh and Spencer joins in too for a moment and everything feels okay again, just for a second. “I’ll be holding you to it.” He smiles to you one last time as he sees the glint in your eyes falter. “Bye Y/n.”

“Bye Spencer.” You wave to him as you turn around, walking down separate paths once more, unsure when you’ll next reunite.

314 notes · View notes

parkers-gal · 3 years

Note

Reader meet Tom during a Meet and greet for the first time. She’s European (like Belgian perhaps. You can choose that) and she catches his attention. They start as close friends and whenever she gets to London, they meet up. After a while they start a relationship (can be long distance) and they just adore eachother a lot.

a good story

wc | 3k (SORRY i rly went off)

i chose france because i heard they have a bit more diversity...? i hope that makes it a bit more universal :) plsss i didn't proofread — hope u like it ! <3

—

You try to wipe the sweat off your hand for the fifth time in the last two minutes. Your pulse picks up while the line moves up again. You’ve been waiting for about an hour and a half, but you really don’t mind. Not when that mop of curls and pile of muscles is so close. Besides, you get to fangirl with the rest of the fans in line around you.

You’d been in deep conversation with a girl and her girlfriend for a good while until one of them went off to get coffee and the other asked to use the bathroom. The security guard assured them that they’d return to their exact position in line, ensuring they wouldn’t have to wait all over again. You missed them, though, because they weren’t back within seven minutes so you preoccupied yourself with the lanyard around your neck with your VIP Access pass attached to the end.

You play with the strings of the Spider-man hoodie; it’s the midtown hoodie that Peter Parker wears in the first movie. You wore it to be cute — and it is, especially with these jeans — but now you’re afraid you might die of heat exhaustion. As the security guards usher yet another fan through the curtains, your feet move forward a couple of feet until the movement stops and you’re stuck waiting again.

The girl and her girlfriend return not a minute later, one of them offering you a bite of their croissants from Starbucks. You ponder the offer before politely declining; you don’t want your breath to smell, or something to get stuck in your teeth. You know you’re overthinking this entire situation, but you can’t help but be nervous when you’re about to meet the one person you’ve spent so much of your time gawking over — and through a screen, at that. It’s pathetic, you admit, but you can’t help it. There’s just something about him.

Another fan goes through the curtains and suddenly you’re less than five turns away from meeting the beloved Brit. You can’t help but feel a little more connected to him, knowing that you’d flown all the way from Paris, France for this London Meet-and-Greet. It’s a wonder how you got your schedule to work so well.

You move forward another spot, tapping your index and middle fingers on your hip while tracing the lines of the tiled floor. You try to distract yourself — counting every prime number you can think of, naming all the superheroes in the Marvel Franchise — until you’re one spot away from going through the black curtains.

“You’ll be in in less than three minutes,” the girl smiles while informing you of the estimated time frame. You thank her, taking note of the tag attached to her uniform.

You take a deep breath, shaking away all nerves and last jitters before wiping your hands one last fateful time. And then all at once, the curtain opens and allows you to step through and into the room where a young actor awaits your arrival. It’s so surreal that you have to watch your feet to ensure they don’t trip and cause you to stumble.

“Hello, love. How’re you?”

Your breath hitches and when he finally takes a good look at you, his breath does too. Your eyes lock for a beat, the two of you lost in a trance before you finally spit out a response.

“I’m… really good. How’re you?”

He smiles, eyes crinkling and face lifting up. “I’m great, thank you.”

You nod, the tip of your tongue playing with your front tooth. You shake out of it, though, setting your bag and your lanyard down on the provided table before stepping a little closer to him.

“Ah, the Midtown hoodie,” He points out, holding your wrists out so he can examine the sweatshirt himself.

“Yeah,” you smile bashfully. “It’s… stylish.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, something that eats away at your shell and causes you to join his chuckling.

“What’s your name, darling?”

You bite your lip, inhaling sharply at the term of endearment. “Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tom,” he offers a hand, something that makes your face scrunch up with a laugh.

“Can we hug instead?”

“Please?” He insists, realizing how embarrassing his last move was. The two of you embrace strongly, and you inhale the scent of Tom Holland while you can.

When you separate, you grow a little more courage, and pick up the conversation. “I loved you in The Impossibly. Obviously in the Spider-man movies, too, but your other movies are really good, too.”

“Thank you, love. That means a lot,” he scratches his neck with a sheepish smile, a blush rising from his neck and onto his cheeks. He smiles, an action you mirror. “Is this your first Meet-and-Greet?”

You nod, “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous.”

He nods in understanding. “Are you from England?”

You shake your head, “I’m currently living in Paris.”

“Ah, the country of romance,” He looks as if he’s thinking of what to say next — as if he shouldn’t say it. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” You smile again, and the glint in Tom’s eye changes just a shade, as if he’s just unlocked a new level. He looks excited for a different reason now.

“How long are you staying in England?”

“Till the end of the week,” You can’t help but feel giddy because it’s only Monday, which means you have until Saturday night to explore the great country of Britain, home to Tom Holland and Tom Hiddleston and Benedict Cumberbatch and basically every celebrity you’ve ever been a fan of. You can’t anticipate what Tom’s to say next, because you don’t want to turn your experience into a Wattpad story, but you hope he’s about to offer something in relation to sightseeing.

“Would you want to… could I show you around? Show you all the best places?” He looks shyer than you, almost, and you swallow your heart so you can answer calmly.

“You’d do that?’

“Of course,” He smiles softly. “You look like a lot of fun.”

You’re taken aback at the compliment, and you stumble out a reply as best you can. The two of you are reminded to take the picture so the line can move forward again, and you will yourself not to frown at the coming end of your encounter with the famous Brit.

“Could we do this?” You show him a picture from your phone and he nods excitedly.

The two of you link hands, standing close together while you smile into the camera. Your encounter comes to an end, and though you’re disappointed, Tom asks for your number, giving you his phone for the occasion. You’re giddy as you wave goodbye, leaving the tent with your picture and his lingering energy.

A day passes, giving you time to recover from your celebrity-interaction and time to get settled into your comforting hotel room on the seventh floor. You’re a bit wary that Tom won’t ever text you, and seeing as you don’t have his number, you realize you have to wait it out. You don’t want to risk waiting for the entirety of your stay here, though, so you grow worried. But alas, Tom texts late on Tuesday night, apologizing for the radio silence that came when he had to finish up the Meet-and-Greet event. You’re relieved, to say the least.

He exchanges details, telling you to meet him at a corner cafe at ten in the morning tomorrow. You comply, promising to get a good night’s rest before saying your goodnights and sleeping the hours away. You’re promptly awoke but your eight-thirty alarm. With a groan, you get up to shower, and the cold water wakes you right up.

An hour later and you’re ready for some quality, top-notch sightseeing. You grab what you need, locking your hotel room door before going down the elevator with a sweet elderly couple. You follow the map on your phone until you arrive at a small shop on the corner, just as Tom had said. You pull the door open, the smell of coffee beans entering your airways. You exhale the familiarity of it all, smiling to yourself before searching the shop. You spot Tom in a corner booth, and as you make your way over, he sets his phone face-down on the table with a smile, waving at you. You take a seat across from him.

“This place is cute.”

“Right? Best tea in London.”

Your stomach grumbles, loud enough for the both of you to hear and then share a laugh about. “I suppose I should eat breakfast.”

“I suppose I should join you,” he replies in the same tone, the two of you sharing tender smiles before someone comes over to take your order.

The conversation picks up and all tension and awkwardness wafts away in the air, leaving you in Tom’s comfortable aura. You talk until the check is paid, and as you step out on the crisp air of the city’s streets, you turn to Tom for the agenda.

The day goes on like that. The two of you go all around the city, visiting The British Museum, the Tower Bridge, Big Ben the clock tower, the Buckingham Palace, the Portobello Road Market, the National Gallery, and even the London eye. Tom knows everything like the back of his hand, and the ancient city makes you feel so significant. Your last stop is Cambridge University, something you’ve always wanted to see in person.

Tom’s been taking your picture all day. On polaroids, your iPhones, and even some of the tourist-profiting workers who beg for sales. He claims it’s so you can start scrapbooking, a conversation the two of you had covered during your many word exchanges.

The two of you have been all over the city since the end of breakfast at almost eleven o’clock. Now, it’s almost eight o’clock and you’re hungry as fuck. After some debate, the two of you decide to take a big red bus back to your hotel for some room service or hotel-restaurant food.

Tom sits in the seat beside you on the bus, the two of you up top and enjoying the city. You get lost in conversation again, the two of you going through today’s latest pictures and video-memories. You end up goofing off, so much so that you almost miss your stop.

The two of you stumble to the entrance of your hotel. Tom smiles, grabbing the door for you. You reply with a sheepish “thank you,” before waving hello to the front desk women.

“Do you want room service or do you want to dine in the restaurant?”

“Would you mind if I joined you for room service?”

You shake your head with a gentle smile, the two of you racing to the elevators. After hitting your floor number, the elevator goes up and the two of you talk again and again. Tom excuses himself to the bathroom when you get into your room; it gives you the opportunity to change out of your clothes and into a pair of sweats and a loose tank. Tom comes out ready for room service but is grown flustered at the sight of a different outfit on you.

“Getting comfortable?”

“Duh,” you lean back on the queen sized bed, back hitting the headboard. “Stay for a movie?”

He smiles, “Hand me the menu.”

He ends up staying until ten o’clock. You promise to go clubbing with him, for a full London experience, and the two of you schedule to do just that on Friday night. You book the entirety of Thursday to finish your sightseeing with him, and before you know it, you’re spending every day in London with Tom.

On your last day, Saturday, you eat breakfast with him at that first fateful cafe. He tells you he can’t take you to the airport — he’d probably get mobbed by fans — and you understand, promising to call him once you land. He promises to come with you to France one day, so the roles can reverse.

You finish your final cup of coffee just as Tom finishes his tea. He smiles sadly, one you mirror.

“I’ll see you soon, you know. And you can still drop me off at the airport.”

“I know,” he smiles sheepishly, hand reaching across the table for yours. “But I’ll miss sightseeing with you. I forget how amazing my own country is, sometimes.”

“Well,” you smile, “I’ll be back, so don’t worry too much, Tom. It’s not like I’m going across the world.”

“Yeah,” He chuckles, “And besides, I can come see you sometime.”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s just so weird to have friends in France and shit,” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Like you live there and I can just go and visit you whenever.”

“I’m still a call away.”

“And thank god for that.”

You exhale after a beat of silence. “This is so fucking crazy.”

“What?”

“This. You, us hanging out. Just four days ago I was paying to see you, and now I’m having breakfast with you for the third time?”

“I promise, I’ll refund that Meet-and-Greet money.”

“Why?” You look at him quizzically and he bites his bottom lip.

“Well we’re friends, so you don’t really need to waste that money and I can get it back so-”

“Don’t,” you look up at him. “It makes for a good story.”

He nods, and after the two of you pay the check, you’re standing from the booth of the quaint little shop one final time, making your way to your door and settling in the passenger seat of Tom’s car. With your luggage in the backseat, he drives all the way to the airport, the loud sound of plane engines filling your ears. He drops you off at the terminal with a hug and a watery smile.

“See you soon!” He waves until you’re out of sight and the security guard is threatening to give him a ticket.

Half a year goes by, with quick three-day weekend trips back and forth, to London and to France even. You’ve seen Tom a total of seven times in the past six months, and you’ve grown closer than ever.

About a month goes by after your last trip, until your boss is telling you that you’re getting a week off for the upcoming paid break. You’ve already confirmed your flight and hotel plans to London, wanting to surprise Tom.

You decide to do it the night before you’re due on the airplane to the country of Brits.

You can’t help but grin at your phone, eventually laying down to sleep while you can before your early morning flight. Tom’s on your mind, in your future, and in your dreams. The last month of FaceTimes and text messages have been amazing, but unbearable because you miss his presence. The extreme amounts of flirting, however, have definitely picked up over text. Your week long trip to London marks the eighth time you’ve seen Tom since that first fateful Meet-and-Greet. You can’t help but feel like the dynamic is changing a bit, though. The two of you have upped the levels a bit, and now you’re more cuddly, more flirty, and definitely more interested.

When you land, you text Tom but frown when the usual immediate response doesn’t come. Moving past a crowd of waiting people, you head to baggage claim to get your luggage. After excruciatingly lifting it off of the conveyor belt, it lands with a thud on the ground and you start wheeling it towards the exit.

The building is extremely less crowded thanks to your early flight booking. When you look up, you see that familiar head of precious brown locks, and you squeal. Tom never leaves the car when picking you up or dropping you off at the airport, for fear of paparazzi and fans catching him. But this time, he’s out and in the building to come get you.

Abandoning your luggage, you drop your carry-on on the floor as you run over to him as fast as you can. He can sense you’re about to jump into his embrace, so he prepares for the bone-crushing hug.

Your arms go around his neck while his hands settle on your waist. He smiles, chin settled in the crook of your neck while he inhales the scent of you.

“Tommy, oh my god. I missed you so much.”

When you pull apart, you’re each a jumbled mess of excitement and tears, so much so that when Tom’s hands grip your face to pull you in to a passionate kiss, you’re immediately calmed. Though you’ve never kissed before, it feels so right.

Your lips chase after his, deepening it as your hands go to his hair and his to the small of your back. When you separate, your foreheads lean against each other while you pant.

“That’s new.”

“Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

You chuckle, “I would’ve said yes.”

He interlocks your fingers, smiling. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

Suddenly, he’s reminded of the fact that the two of you are in public, and when he looks up, he sees a group of girls holding their phones up and capturing the moment he’s just shared with you. Quickly, he pulls you into his chest protectively, hiding your face in your neck.

“We need to hide or else they’re gonna know it’s m-”

“Don’t,” you settle him. “It makes for a good story.”

258 notes · View notes

jaedore · 4 years

Text

BINDING BONDS | 11

< prev

parings: jung jaehyun x reader

genre: ceo!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, asshole Jaehyun, swearing

[ ☽ smut | ◇ angst (mental health, therapy) | ☼ fluff ]

note: BB deals with themes of mental and physical abuse, which can be upsetting for some readers. If you feel uncomfortable reading these types of plots, you are advised to not continue. MINORS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, but I advise you to skip the sexual parts.

[ 10.7 words ]

The brisk winter wind pierces your cheeks and flows past your hair as you look at the view in front of you, the door to your balcony slightly opened. The distant image of the Eiffel Tower illuminates the city below your feet bringing bittersweet memories from long ago. It’s been five years. Five years since you felt his touch, funny how you could still feel his fingertips between other men you decided to indulge yourself in. It made it hard to stay until the sun rose. You hated yourself for it, but how else were you supposed to forget about the man who didn’t want to marry you? His ghost never left you, though. It followed you wherever you went, making you go crazy. That’s why you left the town where the love bloomed and broke, settling down in the city of love, how ironic. Your actions were always contradicting and it still is to this day.

In those five years, you quickly took over the CEO position of Audace, giving your mother the gift of early retirement. Into your first couple of years, you were listed Top 20 in Forbes Magazine, immediately gaining attention for your designs. You always reminded yourself to be humble whenever someone praises you for your work, you weren’t the only one with the hands behind the designs, of course.

Everything was the way it was supposed to be, you felt like the timeline had finally restored itself like it was your job to do so. You haven’t heard much about Jaehyun, you tried to avoid all news outlets about him as much as you could. But it was hard when the image of him would be spread across magazines, you figured that he did dip into the field of modeling, he was bound to with that beautiful face of his. You were roaming the streets of Paris when your eyes brisked over the stand that sold magazines, his face immediately catching your attention. You were proud of him, he looked like he was doing well, better. As you said, you steered away from the topic of him, afraid that maybe you still weren’t over him even if it’s been a couple of years.

News also came out that Jaehyun’s father was finally kicked out of Jung Corporations for his conviction of abuse, no matter how long ago it was, Jaehyun finally grew the courage to stand up to his father. Of course, the stocks plummeted, but with Jaehyun’s quick words of persuasion and work ethic, they soared the next year, earning Jung Corporation a spot on the Forbes Top 20, also. You remember smiling when you saw his company’s name on the same list as you, he did it.

As for the contract of your marriage, it was currently on hold, creating dust in its existence. As time moves on, your mother hopes that you can reopen the contract, but she knows that it’s more than that now, so she leaves it to you, since you’re presently the CEO of Audace and made all the decisions. You’d think that you’d shred that contract by now, but you haven’t. What’s been stopping you?

Jaehyun has made sure to spread his face on every single cover on a magazine, hoping that you’d come across it and come home to him. Ever since you left, he’s gotten no trace of you. He’d call you, text you, but got nothing. He quit trying the third year, thinking that you had blocked him or got a new phone number because he never heard an answer back. Jaehyun even reached out to Haewon and Mark, but they never got the answer he wanted because you never told your closest friends. Were you selfish to do that to them? Too bad that Haewon knew you too well to find out where you were, but trustworthy enough to seal her lips.

It took Jaehyun a long time to accept that you were gone, the memory of you felt like a dream to him. Waking up alone every morning brought anguish to him, the sun telling him that you never came back and that you probably never will. Sometimes he thinks he’s going insane because his memories of you are so distant.

That’s why he traveled to every possible country he’d assumed you’d be in, New York, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Shanghai, London, and even Paris. So when you heard the word of the newest, hottest bachelor was coming to Paris, you knew you’d have to go into hiding because the newest, hottest bachelor was your ex. Being on the cover of dozens of magazines sure had its perks, but for Jaehyun, all he wanted to do was find you. That’s why he left Paris after three weeks, thinking that you had for sure resided there. Which you had, you just didn’t have the courage to come out and face him. You sure did a hell of a good job erasing your existence from his world. You were stubborn, he’s always known that he just didn't know he’d have to go to these lengths to come to that conclusion.

Life went on like that, you two lived your separate lives like there wasn’t a string attached to your fingers, you felt like you two were always meant to say goodbye. Jaehyun has never dared to touch another, for you, and only you solely have his heart. He’d give it to you over and over again if it means getting hurt again. Of course, he didn’t know about your short-lived rendezvous because while you found your lust in other men, begging yourself to be open and find someone, it was never them that refused your love, it was your own doing because you could never find yourself to stay the night. Goodness, you just wanted to feel again. You wanted to love, love like how the sun goes down for the moon every start of the night.

“You’re not staying the night?”

“Not tonight, Yuta.” you gave him a small smile as you picked up your discarded dress on the floor.

The Japanese model propped himself on his elbows, whistling at your figure as you slip your dress on. You narrowed your eyes at him until you realized a few buttons to your Versace Sweetheart Cady Single-Breasted Blazer was missing.

“Really?” you sighed, falling on your knees to search the floor for those stupid buttons.

“What are you looking for?” Yuta sat up, watching you crouch below the bed.

“You ripped this too hard that the buttons popped out, Yuta,” you snapped.

“It’s fine. Go, I’ll find it. It gives me another excuse to see you again,” he smirked at you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, glancing at him, “that’s very unlikely.”

“And why is that?”

Spotting the lost buttons under the bed, you snatched them in your hand and stood up, giving him a sly look, “Because I never give a man a second chance.” Grabbing your clutch, you smiled at him before shutting the door, seeing him chuckle to himself in denial as he fell back on the bed with his hands behind his head.

That was a lie, you do give men a second chance, but the only man you’d give it to is Jaehyun. No matter how long it’s been, how old you were, how forgotten your relationship was with him, you know that he will always have you, be a part of you.

Tomorrow you were leaving to go back home. It’s been a while since you’ve been back and your parents dearly missed you. It was the annual charity ball your family always attended and they wanted you to come to create social networks with others to build Audace. You were a little hesitant because you knew Jaehyun was going to be there, you just didn't know if you were ready to face him or even to just see him.

You leave early in the morning so you could land back home by sunrise. And with your bags already packed, you wondered if tonight would finally give you the rest you needed. You spent countless nights unable to sleep, you think it’s insomnia, but your heart tells you differently. You’ve invested in useless doctors that only tell you to just take those ludicrous melatonin gummies. Of course, they never helped.

You throw your bag onto the chair next to your bed, everything was set for you to leave for tomorrow. Your passport, luggage, duffle bags were all in place at the door and for the slightest second, you felt excitement electrocute through your body.

Maybe it was just you, but the smell of home brought you wistfulness. Should I have stayed? Would everything have been better if I stayed? You had no idea where Jaehyun was or if you’d ever see him on your little trip back home. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t see you, you didn’t even bother coming out of your shell when he did.

“Y/n!!!” A familiar squeal was heard from the echoes of the airport.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh with a smile on your lips. You turn around to see Haewon running to you with a lovely smile on her face, “Hey,” you embrace her in a tight hug, wafting the same perfume she wore when you two were younger.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” Haewon pulled you away by the shoulders, examining your face. You’d beg to differ, but she’d disagree, “I mean, you aged backward! Your skin is glowing and you look so beautiful and youthful. Paris must’ve done its justice on skincare!”

You laugh at her witty remarks, “No, no, no! If anything, you’ve changed! Look at you, you still look like how you did 5 years ago!

“Stop,” Haewon waves at you in disagreement, “come. Let’s get you home,” she grabs onto your arms and heads to the car as her assistants drag your things behind you two.

“So tell me all about Paris!” Haewon blinks at you with wide eyes, like a child excited to receive their favorite candy.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything! From fashion to food to the monuments. I want to know everything, y/n,” she begs.

You tell her everything. From the fashion shows that you were able to manage, to the sweet and savory meals, even to the fountains in Paris, you told her everything that your fingers brushed past. Haewon sat in envy, wishing that she visited you more often. There was a snip of a moment where regret weighed in your heart, maybe you should’ve called her to come. As you finished telling her about your adventures, you two sat in silence, the hum of the car filling the car. It’s been a while since you saw her and she looked so satisfied to finally have you home even if it was just for a few days.

“How’s Jaehyun?” Your voice barely meets a whisper that almost misses her ears.

Thinning her lips, Haewon looked at you with sincerity but with a little pity, “he’s okay, I think. With modeling and the company, he’s been busy so he hasn’t hung out with Mark a lot. Mark says that he’s doing a lot better, he’s been going out a lot the past couple of years, but he doesn’t talk to anyone or bring them home. We both think that it’s because he’s still not over you, he also still doesn’t talk to Chaeyoung anymore.”

You nod, you weren’t necessarily expecting anything, you just wanted to check up on him, but his name still makes you miss the happier times with him. You hold Haewon’s words like a string in front of you, I hope he is doing better.

The car rolls up to the familiar view of her apartment building, more trees were added around the rectangular architecture bringing out the bareness of it due to the cold weather. As your feet patted the snow, the way up to her apartment was almost unfamiliar. You always thought you’d know the steps to specific places with your eyes closed, but it raised a question to your mind. What if you forgot the most important things? What would you do then? Would they even be important if you had already forgotten them in the first place?

When Haewon opened the door to her apartment, everything about it had changed. The couch was on the opposite side of the room, the dining table that used to be horizontal was now vertical, giving it more space, and the color scheme that was once in hues of pink and greens was now white and browns.

“Wow,” your eyes widen, taking in all the changes, “love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thank you,” Haewon smiled proudly, “the pink and greens were getting old. Plus, I feel like this is more mature for me.” her laugh rings in your ears as you scan her kitchen, she’s even got new dishes.

You smile back at your best friend, “It’s nice.”

You sit comfortably on her couch as she makes you some warm tea. Your eyes skim through her walls, pictures of you remained nailed to it but in different frames, she’s even added new ones from when she visited you in Paris. Below them, there were green plants in grey vases, giving it the earthly vibe she always had in her.

“Here,” Haewon hands you your cup of tea as she sits beside you, “so you’re gonna stay with your parents?”

“Yeah, they miss me a lot and I miss them too, so it won’t hurt to stay.”

She pouts a little bit enough for you to notice her bottom lip jutting out, “Aw, that’s okay. Just promise that you’ll say goodbye to me before you leave. If you leave like last time, I’m gonna tell Jaehyun where you are,” Haewon threatens you.

“Hey!” your eyes enlarge in seriousness. You hope she doesn’t and you know she won’t but there’s a sliver of desire that you want her to.

“I’m just kidding, I won’t. I know you don’t want that,” she holds your hand after seeing how serious you were, “You and your little game of fate.” Haewon laughs as she strides to the kitchen to retrieve some snacks.

By the time you’ve binge-watched a series, finished a whole meal of Chinese takeout, you were drained and out of it. You know it’s getting late as the stars are the only source of light in the sky, other than the street lights.

“I should get going,” you grabbed your jacket that draped over the couch, but when you didn’t hear a peep from Haewon, you turned your head to see her asleep with her mouth opened to the ceiling. You chuckle at the amusing sight of your best friend knocked out with deranged hair and a little drool at the corner of her mouth. You turn off the tv and cover her with the cotton quilt before you kiss her forehead, “goodnight.”

As you quietly shut the door, you call for a cab knowing that you’re on the brink of almost being too late, but since no one’s out, by the time you reach the entrance, the driver is already there and waiting for you.

The night winter air hits your cheeks, turning it a crimson red along with the point of your nose. Home was always the coldest in the wintertime and hottest in the summer, there was no in-between. Puffs of grey smoke escape your mouth as you sit in the heated car, rubbing your hands together for more warmth. You tell the driver your address as you lean back in the seat, letting the drive paint your window with the outside scenery until you see the familiar sight of your home. When you do, you tip the driver with a heavier tip because it’s late at night before striding up to the front gates.

When you walk in the mansion, the lights are off darkness pooling into the large vacant home, echoing your heels. You’re quiet in your steps that lead to your room, afraid that you’d wake your parents up. The empty hallway that leads to your room is still filled with the same pictures, the smell coming from the same candles, the same flowers in the same vases, nothing has really changed around here. It’s as if you never really left, it makes your mind drift to your former shared apartment with Jaehyun. Has he changed anything since I’ve left? Is everything still the same? Does he still even live there? It’s a bittersweet memory, it really is, but you hope for the positive, your heart silently wishing things hadn't been the way it was. That you stayed that night in his arms, hearing his silent breathing as you comb your fingers through his soft, floppy hair. To have his head laying on your chest, hearing your heartbeat go at peace because he was in your arms. You got the good side of him.

You strip off your clothes, discarding them on the cream rug, and letting the warm water spill on your body. Life is a series of choices and if you are lucky enough, miracles. Your youthful mind would have disagreed and thought that you’d do things based on choices, but now, you’re convinced that if fate allows it, it shall be. Miracle or not, you will welcome it with open arms, you’ve grown accustomed to detachment and self-growth. Maybe you were saving yourself for Jaehyun because maybe you truly weren’t over him. Either way, you detach yourself from every man you’ve met because you had a sliver of hope that fate was going to lead him to you. But were you wasting your time in doing so? What if in the end, he wasn’t even yours? You dip your head, letting the water swim through your hair, giving it slight weight. I’m thinking too much. You rub your eyes, not knowing if the sting was from your developing tears or the water. Suddenly, you reach to turn off the water and give yourself a quick dry ahead of pulling your pajamas on.

And now you’re on your bed, your eyes still light as a feather. Your nights always consisted of this, unclosed eyes, frequent gazes at the ceiling or the window by your side, and sometimes tear-stained cheeks. The theory of possibly seeing Jaehyun crossed your mind the entire night, you know you were bound to see him soon so you needed to mentally prepare yourself for the moment. Thankfully for the long night Haewon provided for you, the thought of Jaehyun finally left his home in your mind and you found yourself slowly falling into slumber, anticipating another visit from him in your dreams.

“Honey, honey...honey,” Shaken awake by the sweet voice of your mother, you woke up to the image of her sitting on the edge of her bed. Just like the home, she looked like she didn’t age a day. She was as beautiful as you last remembered her.

“Morning, mother,” you yawn, stretching your limbs towards each side of the wall.

“More like afternoon,” she scoffed, pulling the sheets from you.

You instantly curl your body into a ball, cursing yourself for only wearing a long t-shirt and shorts. You peered at the clock by your bedside seeing 12:30 glancing right back at you. “Sorry, long day yesterday.”

“That’s okay. Get up now, get ready, go eat, and let’s go find a dress for you. The ball’s in a few days.”

Obeying your mother, with stiffness in your body, you were able to brush your teeth, comb your hair, and put on a presentable outfit. As you walk down the stairs to the dining room, you see your mother and father holding hands, laughing as they eat. You stopped in your tracks, standing still on the stairs as your hand gripped on the rail, watching them enjoy each other’s company. A little bit of your heart envied the sight in front of you, all you wanted was to love someone. To care for them, love them, and grow old. Most of all, you wanted to do all of those things with Jaehyun, but-

“You’re here! Come eat, we have to hit the stores before traffic gets heavy,” your mother waves you, immediately cutting you from your thoughts.

You greeted your parents as you sat down. Everything in front of you was luxurious, there were fancy sandwiches, bowls of freshly washed fruit, and cut out aged cheese, along with the bottles of wine scattered across the table. You didn’t even know where to begin, you missed everything from home, especially the food.

“Hurry, eat! I have a ton of places we have to check out,” your mother is persistent in finding you the most extravagant dress, a present for your return home for the couple of days you were here. It’s been 5 years since you’ve been back, of course, she wanted to go all out for her only daughter.

“Okay this,” your mother points at the lake green colored dress that hugs your body, the silken fabric falling at your feet, “is the one,” with wide eyes she slowly stands up and walks to you with arms open.

“Really?” you tilt your head to the side, observing your reflection.

“Pair it with some clear heels, signature earrings to elongate your neck, leaving the chest open, and voila, the perfect outfit.” the employee persuades you, as they should because that’s what you ended up purchasing.

“Oh no,” the employee waves his hand at you, dismissing your mother’s card, “that gentleman already paid for your entire attire,” he points behind you and you snap your head in his direction.

Like the time had slowed down, the most handsome man that has ever come into your life, stood across the store from you. His gentle gaze sits on your shoulders, but it embraces you instead of piercing through you. His tall physique has become lean, more muscular yet toned. His signature dark hair was styled like the last time you saw it, it was always your favorite.

“Jaehyun,” your whispered tone comes out as a gasp at the man who stood several feet from you.

A friendly smile sits on his face as the air returns to your lungs and as your brain begins to function again. What a sight you desperately missed. You longed to run to his arms and to hug him, kiss him, love him like the old times, but your feet remind you to stop as soon as you see a pair of arms slither his arm. A woman, just around your age interlocks her hand with his and smiles brightly at him. She’s as gorgeous as you can imagine, probably a model, for her body and frame compliments his.

You clear your throat, regaining poise, and give him a slight nod, careful to not look at him again as you turn yourself around to thank the cashier and scurry out of the store.

“That was Jaehyun, wasn’t it?” Your mother cautiously asks, quickly catching up to you.

“L-let's just goes mother, p-please,” you stutter as you reach the car and attempt to open the door, begging her to unlock it.

Cranking up the air conditioner, you rest your head between your hands as they rub your temples. You ask yourself again and again what just happened and if you actually saw him, but your brain knew better than your heart, you did in fact see Jung Jaehyun standing just a few feet from you.

“Are you okay?” she rubs your back as you try to steady your breathing.

“I’m fine, can we just please go home now? We have my dress,” you beg.

Your mother starts the car right away, aware of your little episode. You think that maybe you’re overreacting a little bit, but this was all physical. If you could control it, you would and you wouldn’t be in such a crouched position feeling this way.

When you finally feel your heartbeat becoming steady again, you sit up and lean back into the seat, you stare out the window, completely dazed. You feel like you didn’t even experience seeing Jaehyun. For the first time in five years, he still tugs your heart and how stupid you feel for thinking that there could be the smallest room for you in his heart when you were the one who left him, ignored him, written yourself off from his story. Of course, he already had somebody, somebody that loves him, cares for him, far better off than what you could’ve done. You were the one that left, what were you truly expecting at this point?

As the car drives up to your home, you’re quick to strip yourself and bury under the covers. The room is dark and silent, the most dangerous time for your mind to wander. Fear settles under your skin when the thought of ending up alone crosses your mind. You’ve been alone all of your life before Jaehyun even showed up, who knew how hard it’d be to go back to the forgotten feeling of being alone.

You hadn’t noticed that you’ve knocked out when a faint knock sounds from your door. Your eyes slowly open, but along with your head, it’s too heavy from your thoughts to lift itself. Slowly as the door opens, Haewon peeks her head through and suspects that you’re still asleep when she sees your body calmly fall and rise. Haewon tip-toes to your bed, lifting her heel, afraid that the clanking noise would startle you awake. Without a word, she sits on the edge of your bed and combs her fingers through your hair, removing the loose strands from your face. She hates seeing you like this, so broken. You’ve worked yourself until you were unable to stand, you’ve dismissed all opportunities to feel something from any man and anyone, most of all, you’ve denied your existing love for Jaehyun. But she knows that you know all of that, you just choose to brush it off your shoulder because that’s what you always did. You’d dust things off and shove them down until you’d combust. Five years of shoving things down have resulted in this.

You stayed that for the next few days, curled up in a ball under the mountain of blankets. You despised yourself for not spending time with your parents with the few days you had, but you could barely get up, you didn’t have the energy to even sit. Your mother brought you soup occasionally and stayed there, making sure you finished it to the last drop. She reassured you that it’s okay, to stay in bed and take your time to heal. She also told you to make time to walk around, talk to the workers in the house, or take a walk in the greenhouse, which you did when you could. Heartbreaks were never easy for you anyway.

Before you knew it, tonight was the night for the Annual Charity Ball. There you stood in front of the mirror in the Marchesa Crystal-Embellished Velvet Gown observing how the dress nestled against your body. You always wore expensive gowns like this, but you felt rather insecure for the first time in a while, maybe the reason was that you were finally home after years of never showing up and felt like you had to prove yourself.

Everyone was gathered in the dimly lit room, waves of laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses filled the massive ballroom. One of the biggest events for the biggest international companies and here you were, not even reaching ten years of CEO experience and now forced to network with those that have been.

“You’re going to do fine,” Haewon rubs your back, “just don’t look intimidating and you’ll be fine,” she winks at you, but you playfully roll your eyes and push her towards the bar where she was already making her way.

A low voice clears behind you, “Ahem-”

You turn around to reveal an old friend, “Mark!” you jump into his arms, missing the embrace from him.

He pulls away from you with a bright smile shining on his face and carefully eyes you, “You look stunning tonight.”

“Wow,” you smiled, “you clean up very well, I must say Mr. Lee.” you gently punch his arm.

Mark playfully winces, but offers you his arm, “Come on, let me get you something to drink.” you happily take a hold of his arm as he leads you to the bar that was elegantly built, chandeliers decorating the area with white marble counters in addition to the handsome bartenders mixing the most luscious refreshments.

“I’ll have an Old Cuban please, and-” Mark glances at you, waiting for your answer.

“And I’ll have a Gin and Tonic, please.”

“Classy,” Mark cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Always have been.”

As you wait for your drinks, Mark and you take your time to catch up. The need to network and talk to others completely dissolves as you two catch up five years of each other’s lives. You avoid the opportunity to take another drink as Mark orders his second one, but time is lost when you two are immersed in each other’s stories. It makes you realize how much you’ve missed him and how much you missed everyone’s life when you left.

“So where have you been?” The burning question leaves his mouth and you hope that he’s too tipsy to even hear or wait for your answer.

“Just-” you hesitate, seeing his state of giggles and blushed cheeks, “around the globe, traveling here and there.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head, “No, but like, where have you been? You left without saying goodbye and you were gone for five years, y/n.” even though it held humor, you knew Mark enough to know he was being serious.

“I was...I was in-”

“Come on, why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? I thought we were friends.”

“We are Mark, we are!” you repeat to the male, “but I just needed to get away from all of this, I needed to leave.”

“Leave because of what? Because of Jaehyun?”

And like a fever dream, your eyes meet with the owner of the name. He’s across the ballroom, this time his gaze piercing through your chest. It’s intense and possessive, yet also holds a longing for you. A whispered gasp rolls from your throat and your eyes scatter anywhere on your lap, avoiding to look up.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, “I have to go to the bathroom,” you leave a tipsy Mark behind as you race for the bathroom.

Dashing to the nearest bathroom, there’s a ring in your ear against the thumping in your heart, and it’s the only thing you can hear because it’s so loud. You push open the door and slam the stall door shut as you lean against the stone stall. You clutch your chest and play with your collar as you catch your breath, a gust of heat coating your body.

“Y/n?” It’s Haewon.

“Y-yeah?” your voice breaks.

“I saw you run in here, you okay, baby?” you can hear her voice becoming louder as the ring in your ears tunes out.

“I’m fine,” you slowly open the stall to see Haewon standing in front of you with a worried expression.

She gives you an absurd look, fully knowing that you are clearly not okay and she brings you into a hug. “Everything’s going to be okay. Do you want to leave? We can go back to your place and just hang out.”

Haewon’s offer sounds tempting, but you had to remind yourself you were here for a reason. You were here to talk and network, yet you let your emotions take over you. Once again. You give her a compassionate look, a small smile stretching your lips, “No, I’m okay now. Thank you for checking up on me, though. Let’s go,” you rub your forehead as she holds onto your hand, leading you back out to where everyone is.

Your eyes scan everyone in the room, seeing who’s here and who’s who, but they scan over certain someone. Someone who chased you away. Jung Jaehyun stood just a mere few feet away from you. His tall, lean physique would still tower over you if he came closer, his eyes still gleamed against the chandeliers, and he still looked handsome as ever. As soon as you see the familiar arms that belonged to the woman you saw at the store a couple days ago, wrap around his, you’re convinced that you’re just a distant memory for him now. You quickly turn your head, making sure to keep your chin lifted as you follow Haewon, who’s already talking to a bunch of businessmen. You step until you're beside her and join the conversation. Several of them were handsome, bachelors, some your age, a little older, and some a little younger.

They were all polite enough for you to jump in, they included you in their jokes, making you clutch your stomach in laughter. They were good at keeping your mind away from straying.

“So, Y/n,” Johnny Seo, a corporate bank owner speaks up, “how’s the CEO position of Audace treating you?”

“It’s great. You know life is kinda fun when you love what you do,” you reply, earning groans from a bunch of them.

“You’re lucky you were born into such a life like that,” a car enterprise CEO named Ten, speaks up.

You quickly laugh before the conversation turns into a serious one, “you’re always welcome to dream a life that you want if you have the drive for it.” You smile at him before turning your back and heading out to get air.

Outside the ballroom leads to a greenhouse, the lush trees and vibrant-hued flowers compliment the sunset that sits on the horizon outside of the warm, glass structure. Making your way on the stone steps that lead to the edge of the greenhouse that overlooks the city below you, you inhale a deep breath and slowly let it out as you gaze at the orange and pink sky.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” A voice expresses behind you.

“Yeah,” you simply reply before your eyes widen. You knew that voice, you could pick it up from anywhere at any time because it always brought you peace of mind.

The owner of the voice walks until he’s beside you, his body coming in your peripheral vision. At that moment, the familiar smell travels to your nostrils, the warmth from his body embraces your cold one, and that’s when you knew you had nowhere else to go.

“I was talking about you,” Jaehyun replied, his eyes glued to the view in front of him.

You slightly drop your head to the ground, staring at your shoes. There’s a dreading feeling that sits in your bones, anxious if he was going to ask you a series of questions of where you were or why you were gone for such a long time. You weren’t expecting him to approach you but little did you know, he’s been waiting all night to.

“Thank you,” you whisper, keeping your gaze stuck on your shoes. In the corner of your eye, you can see him shifting until he’s fully facing you, but you’re good at doing what you’ve been doing.

“Y/n, where have you been?” Jaehyun asks, his voice is tainted with sadness, yet tinted with a little bit of frustration. “You’ve been gone for five years and I haven’t seen you, talked to you ever since you left. You haven’t picked up any of my calls, you haven’t answered any of my texts. I know I blew up on you and we broke things off, but I-” he slightly pauses to calm himself down. You’re next to him, eyes on your expensive shoes and you look absolutely breathtaking to him. You haven’t aged one bit, you still look like your younger self when he met you, still youthful and beautiful. Like always, you were a literal angel. Instead of continuing to speak, Jaehyun clutched your shoulders and pulled you in his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around your frame.

You let out a surprised gasp when your body collided with Jaehyun’s. The tightness of his arms constricted you like he was trying to tell you to stay. He holds you in that moment, afraid to let you go, knowing that you weren’t going to come back for the next couple of years. Tears begin to grow in his eyes as he feels your arms wrap around his body, your gentle touch brings him to his knees, brings him to tears.

“Jaehyun, please,” you bleed, your voice broken.

He instantly pulls away to see you crying and brings his palms to your cheeks, “Please don’t cry.” he begs you because he knows that if he continues to watch you cry, he would also cry. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean a word back then. I wanted to marry you, I still do. I just said those words out of anger and I know I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry. Please, y/n, will you ever forgive me?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, closing your eyes, letting the tears stream down your face.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “I am. I am sorry,” a tear leaves the corner of his eye and he rests his forehead against yours, letting his emotions take over him.

You two stay like that for a bit, holding onto each other, basking in each other’s presence with the sun setting behind you. You gently pull away, holding onto his hands, the ones that became stronger over the past few years, the ones that always set your skin to flames.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, looking at him with bloodshot eyes. Jaehyun gives you a questioning look, “but I have to go.” you bring his hands together, pressing them against your lips before you set them beside his side.

“Please don’t leave me again.” his voice cracks, his heart is unable to bare life without you again.

Your innocent eyes catch him and before you know it, Jaehyun’s proximity is so close you can feel his breath float on your lips. Functioning on your emotions, you close the distance, gently pressing your lips on his. And it’s like you haven’t forgotten the feeling of his lips, you’d never forget it whenever you kissed, it’s like water after a marathon. It’s like sleep after a hard day, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. But you could no longer have this kind of luxury.

You cup his face, pulling yourself from his lips, “I’m sorry Jaehyun,” you give him a sad smile before backing away, leaving him once again, alone.

As Jaehyun watches you leave, he doesn’t chase after you. He knows you still love him and he still loves you, if fate allows it, you’ll come back. You always do.

Saying goodbye was harder than you thought, but it was the hardest with Jaehyun. You never said goodbye to him, you just left him there as you did before. You were always leaving, always shoving your emotions down, never facing them head-on.

Life wasn’t always easy, but you tried to make the most of it. You missed Jaehyun dearly, although there was a big part of your heart that longed for him and wanted to go back home to him, a larger part of yourself knew that your clocks were no longer in sync. You both have given each other love and growth and taught each other how to forgive, whether it was silent forgiveness or verbal. Every day you hope that you’d have the courage in yourself to let him back in your life, you know it’s there and you’re ready, you just needed the extra push.

It’s been months since you returned home. The brisk, winter wind finally cooled you down whenever you opened your windows. The trees were a lush green, blooming with yellow flowers on the tips, and there were chatters from below your window. The people of Paris always loved coming out in the summer to attend the town marketplace, picking fresh produce and bundles of colorful bouquets to bring to their loved ones. Every Saturday you made sure to also go, it was a good way to make friends and grocery shop.

In your stay in Paris, you made a small group of friends. The five of them were always good at bringing you to tears with their jokes and spontaneous stories, it was like being a careless teenager again. Since everyone was always busy with their own lives, you guys made sure to schedule a time of the month to get dinner and catch up. Tonight was one of those nights. Since they’re more on the extemporaneous side, the reservations were always bounced around within the city, giving you the gift of tasting every fine cuisine. Tonight’s reservation was at the Le Jules Verne, the second floor of the Eiffel Tower. That place holds a special place in your heart, heck, this entire city did. You would be lying if you didn't miss Jaehyun every time you’d pass a place you passed long ago on your visit here with him.

“Hey! Y/n, you’re here!” Julian greets you from the table.

“Hi,” you hug her before sitting in your seat, “Adalene isn’t here yet?” you scan the seats as one sits vacant.

“No, you know how she is,” Estelle rolls her eyes from across the round table, “always late.”

“It’s okay, we’ll order wine first,” Diane chirps, raising her hand to the waiter.

You sit yourself down, shifting in your seat to make yourself comfortable. Conversations and giggles are exchanged from across the table, from the hottest gossip to old stories, everything was always such a good memory with these ladies. The food that was brought was slowly chomped down throughout the night, making the night go by a little faster than usual, but you weren’t complaining, you always had a good time with your friends, but something about this place just brought you nostalgia and slowed time down. After a while, the wine bottle was sipped and emptied, while blinded smiles were painted across everyone’s faces with a slight blush.

“Ma’am,” your waiter came to your side of the table.

“Yes?” You glance at him, with a questioning look, your eyes curiously staring at the beverage in his hand.

“The man from the bar brought your drink,” he nodded at the bar, but you were too busy already reaching for it and sipping it.

The glass of red wine looked all too familiar, you knew the texture of it, the smell, and the taste. You memorized on melancholy nights where you locked yourself in your apartment and looked at pictures of Jaehyun or read articles of him. It was the wine that you two had the first time you two came to Paris. It was always hard to forget several little puzzle pieces of him.

As your friends ogled at your bizarre behavior of quickly downing the drink, you finished it in a couple of gulps and set the glass down. Your eyes skimmed the bar, but no sight of Jaehyun was there. You sighed and excused yourself from the table, you were completely losing it that you needed to get fresh air. But as soon as you opened the doors to the balcony of the Eiffel Tower, there he was. His eye-catching self leaning over with his hands clasped before him.

Your forehead creased, “Jaehyun.”

He turned to you, and boy, was this man very dapper in his dark suit with his hair gelled back. You always loved that look on him and now that he’s illuminated in the moonlight, it was a sight you never thought you’d be able to see.

“Love,” his nickname makes your heart skip a beat, “you got my drink?”

You nodded, slowly making your way to him, “what are you doing here in Paris?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he mumbles under his breath, head falling forward following with a little chuckle, “but I think I know the answer.”

You stay silent beside him, looking at the dark sky that’s littered with stars. With Jaehyun by your side in Paris, it feels as if he’s always been here. It feels like your first time here with him again.

“Congratulations on your successes by the way,” he says, a sincere smile across his lips.

“Thank you, you too.” you return, “Being on Forbes list, especially. That’s a big achievement.”

“Thanks, it was hard after- all of that,” he implies to the incident of his father and how everything went crashing down after that.

“But hey-” you turn to him as he does the same to you, “-you did it. I always knew you could.”

Jaehyun smiles at you, “I got help too,” he whispers, fumbling with his fingers. He lets out a quiet chuckle, “I still am.”

“That’s good, I’m proud of you. I understand how helpful that can be, let me know if you need anything.” you silently say the last part, quietly shunning yourself because you haven’t been present in his life.

Jaehyun thanks you, but looks at you, his gaze peering at your face. Oh how much he’s missed seeing you, having you this close to him. “I’m still in love with you,” he blurts out. Your breath pauses as you turn his way. Your eyes scan his face and it tells you that he genuinely means it. “And I mean it. There hasn’t been a day where I don’t miss you, where I love you less. Hell, having you not by my side makes me love you even more. It makes me crazy.” He confesses.

You’re dead frozen in your stance, the wind gushes through both of your hair, messing yours up more. Maybe this was a sign, a sign that the world is telling you that the time is now because a large part of yourself knows that if it’s not now, it’s never. The look on his face tells you how much love the man in front of you holds for you and you know that it’ll be there forever. There’s not a question of doubt that crosses his face and nothing will stop him from leaving because he knows you feel the same way. He almost knows you more than you.

“I love you, Jaehyun. I never stopped,” you reveal, your voice slightly breaking from the river of tears you were now producing.

Jaehyun brings you into a hug, his arms find his place around your body and it feels like the last puzzle piece has been placed. He sniffles with you in his arm, he’s dreamt of this moment every night. That you’d be back in his arms and that your love is still there for him. Feeling like this is almost too good to be true, Jaehyun pulls back to see you. Your makeup is almost smeared, but your eyes are delicate as he gazes into them.

Just as you felt the wind dance through your hair once again, Jaehyun pulls you to him, his lips settling on yours, letting the familiar feeling of comfort take over him.

(a/n: lol listen to kendrick lamar’s love [slow + reverbed] it’ll set the mood hehe)

You struggle to lock your apartment door as you both enter with fumbling feet, tangling your shoes with your fingers as it pleads to be taken off. Once the last shoe hits the ground, Jaehyun pushes you against the wall, fumbling with the buttons of your blouse as he sucks onto your bottom lip. You envelop your hands over his and put it on his chest to let him take his clothes off so you can take off yours smoothly. You can feel a small smile growing on his lips and you pull slightly back.

“I just can’t believe that you’re here with me right now,” he whispers against your lips.

“And I’m here forever,” you coo, reaching for his hand. You lead him to your bedroom, occasionally looking back at him to give him a sly smile. As soon as you’re about to turn the lights on, Jaehyun stops you.

“Leave them off, I love looking at you when the moonlight is shining on your glistening skin,” his voice lowers and it makes your legs go weak.

And just like that, clothes were shed like a second skin and now Jaehyun towered above you. What a wonderful sight to see after a few years. Your fingers trailed from his chest, down to his abdominals, feeling each straining muscle against your fingertips, until it was met with his manhood. Your eyes innocently glanced up at him when you gently grabbed his cock, pressuring the tip just a bit before bringing your hand to it, rubbing it in your palm.

“Oh, baby, you always know how to make me feel good,” Jaehyun lowers himself until he’s groaning in your ear.

You know you’re doing a pleasing job when you feel the tough grip on your hips and when the other hand comes to your core. Jaehyun lets out a little scoff when he realizes how wet you already were.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers in your ear.

“Only for y-you,” you stutter, “oh shit,” your back arches when Jaehyun plunges two fingers in without any warning. Both of your hands shoot up to hold onto his arms as he finds a quick pace for his fingers, occasionally circling his thumb on your clit.

“Baby, baby,” Jaehyun hums as he lowers himself onto his free elbow to litter you with hickies across your neck, later leading to your chest.

Everything is blurred and everything is going so fast, you’re almost convinced that this isn’t even happening, that this is just another dream of yours. You struggle to relax as Jaehyun stops in his tracks, which results in you shooting up to prop yourself on your elbows to only see Jaehyun lowering himself down to your dripping, wet core.

This is definitely not a dream. You let out a loud moan when Jaehyun presses his hot tongue against your core, letting his teeth gently nip at the lips of your pussy.

“Tell me, angel,” the vibrations of his voice shoots pleasure through your spine, “did you fuck anyone while you were here?” You wince when he doesn’t hear an answer from you and harshly pats your pussy. “I don’t like being ignored, you know that, don’t you?” a smirk stretches across his face seeing you sexually frustrated, but you persistently nod.

“I-I did,” you let out another wince when he carefully slaps it again. Jaehyun shakes his head, almost in disappointment, but you pay no attention to it because you’re so aroused at this point that you just need to feel him in you.

“Bad girl,” he shakes his head as he lowers himself back down. His hot breath fans across your clit, making you involuntarily clench around nothing, and Jaehyun notices it but shakes his head.

“Please,” you groan, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“So you’ve been a busy girl, huh?” He mumbles against your pussy.

“Yes, yes, I have been. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you’re in a frenzy. Five years and you haven’t felt his touch, at this point, you feel like he’s just mocking you at this point, “please let me feel you.”

The ability of his tongue is superior to every man you’ve decided to entangle yourself with, no one could match how well Jaehyun could make you feel. And tonight, you were ready to give all of you to him.

“J-Jaehyun,” you drag out, “I’m-”

“What do you want, baby?” Jaehyun asks, looking at you from below.

“E-eat me out.”

Jaehyun lifts himself until he’s hovering over you, there’s darkness in his eyes, foreshadowing that he won’t be gentle. “You have to ask nicely.” he snickers, bringing a hand down to rub your clit, fast.

Your eyes widen from the surprise feeling, a gasp comes out of your mouth and your back arches, your perking nipples touching his chest. Jaehyun seems to notice because he brings his other free hand and pinches it, rolling it between his fingers. You close your eyes, blinded by the feeling and the power he has over you. You’d let him ruin you any way he wants.

“Want...you to...eat. Me. Out, please, please, please,” you’re impatient as you finish your command, sounding snappy, but Jaehyun gives in because he enjoys how needy you sound.

He lowers himself until he’s face to face with your sex again, the wetness and clenching of it arouse him and he doesn’t hesitate to bring his mouth to it, instantly sucking your pussy. You release a loud whine, your hands shooting to his hair. You didn’t expect him to be so rough on you so soon. But he is and as he licks the wetness, drawing circles on your clit simultaneously.

“You taste so good, angel,” he coos, pulling away for a split second before lapping onto your sex again, this time thrusting his tongue in you. The feeling of his tongue fucking you has your stomach tightening, so close to snapping. He lets his tongue explore your walls as he pinches your nipples, forcing them to perk up more than they could.

Jaehyun knows you’re about to climax when your hips begin to rise and your legs start to close in beside his head, but knowing how sensitive you are, Jaehyun gently presses your hips down and pries your legs until they’re as far as your flexibility allows it to go before returning to his deed.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse, sweat beading down your temple. Soon, your coil snaps and you’re shaking in Jaehyun’s grasps, but he gives you no time to come down from your high as he instantly thrusts his cock into you. You gasp, eyes widening as you hold onto him, your hands searching for any kind of leverage on him.

Jaehyun lowers his head into the crook of your neck, kissing it as he thrusts harshly against you. He hears your loud winces above him and he supports himself on his elbows, seeing tears on both sides of your face. “I can stop,” he whispers, afraid that he might’ve been overstimulating you too much.

You persistently shake your head, the pain is a bit overwhelming but the pleasure is worth it. “Please don’t,” you croak, bringing Jaehyun back down to you.

He fucks you like the angel you are, praises fumbling from his lips, “you’re so good, baby. You feel so fucking good.”; “No one feels good as much as you do.”; “God I fucking love you and your tight pussy.” praise after praise has you in a trance as he fucks you dumb.

Jaehyun pulls out and you whine from the empty feeling, cold air reaching your sensitive sex. But he lifts you by the hips, his grasp tight on you as he turns you over, lifting you until you’re on all fours. Jaehyun brings his hand hard on your ass, “promise me you won’t fuck anyone anymore unless he’s me,” he commands with a growl in his voice.

“I promise,” you whine, voice desert dry.

Content in your words, Jaehyun thrusts into you from behind. You let out an elongated cry, his tip reaching farther into you, hitting that sweet, sweet spot repeatedly. His grip on your hips tightens as you look forward to the bruises in your hips the next day.

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” Jaehyun hums, “still tight for me after all these years.”

You moan when he reaches for your breast, kissing your back in doing so. A moan escapes your throat, “only for you. Only for you,” you repeat, closing your eyes.

Jaehyun knows you’re dazed, your words are barely coherent, your pants are almost louder than your moans, and he knows you can barely hold yourself up, noticing at your shaking limbs. So, he wraps his arms around your hot, sweaty body and brings you up until your back is pressed against his chest. You groan from the new position that he puts you in, almost as satisfying as the previous one. Jaehyun gently kisses your shoulder and the place where it meets your neck while he rams into you, his actions contradicting. Nonetheless, it holds so much love. Vulnerable, naked bodies pressed together in the moonlight from Paris that illuminates your bedroom. You’re making love with the love of your life and how much of a roller coaster it took to finally get to this point.

“I love you,” you bring your hands around to his hair, combing your fingers through it, earning a groan from your tugging, “I love you so, so much. I love you and only you” you don’t know if your cry comes from the overwhelming feeling of your emotions or the fact that he’s vigorously ramming into you, reaching so far into you, making you feel like you could crumble in that instant.

“I’m close angel,” he moans in your ear.

“In me, come in me,” you beg, squeezing your eyes closed because you know you’re almost there too.

Jaehyun reaches down to your abused sex and draws circles around your sensitive bud, making you arch away from him, but he’s close to bringing you back to his sweating body. Soon you can feel that coil in your stomach snaps. Both of you let out a series of moans and curses and after staying like that for a bit, Jaehyun brings you down on the bed. He lays next to you catching his breath while holding you as you gasp for more, your body twitching from time to time as it calms down.

“You did well, my love,” he kisses your forehead, staying there for a few seconds, “and I love you too.”

Jaehyun doesn’t know whether or not you finally fell asleep, but he slowly pulls back to get a glance at you. In such a time like this, he thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, hair sticking out in various directions as some stuck to your forehead, your swollen lips that sit plumply on your face, the rare beads of sweat that sat on your temples, and the red flush that blushes your face. Everything about this, about you, is perfect for him. It’s a familiar feeling for him when he holds you, kisses you, makes love to you and it takes him a while until he finally realizes that you are his home.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up, but you know it must be around the early afternoon from the fresh sunlight that sneaks through your curtains. You remember the events from yesterday, going out to dinner with your friends, seeing Jaehyun, making love with Jaehyun and that’s when you feel the pair of arms around your waist move just a bit, which confirms that yesterday really wasn’t just another fever dream. With a smile on your face, you turn yourself until you’re facing him. What a beautiful man you managed to get involved with, again. You giggle a little bit when he stirs in his sleep, slightly pouting and you can’t help yourself but peck his lips a couple of times to wake him up.

Your fingers comb through his hair as he struggles to open his eyes, “Hey, sleepyhead,” you laugh.

“Good morning, my love,” whenever Jaehyun calls you that, it makes your heart flip. You felt ridiculous that such a word can make you feel like you're back in high school, experiencing your first, real crush.

“It’s the afternoon,” you mumble, reaching for your phone but he’s quick to wrap his strong arms around your body to keep you close to him.

It’s just like you never left like there wasn’t a whopping five years of nights where you missed being held by him. For you, everything fell back in place. For you, it felt like you were finally back home.

“Hey,” Jaehyun clears his throat and you back away because for a split second you could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Yeah?”

With those dark chocolate orbs of his, Jaehyun looks down at you and you’ve never felt more alive in your years of living. He was only two years older than you, and you’re both still considered young, but he’s convinced that you’re the love of his life. You hope that what he says is something good, because after all of this, what would be the point?

“Will you marry me?”

You shot back, completely shocked with your mouth opened and your eyes wide. You really weren’t expecting such a proposal so soon, especially after seeing him for the first/second time in five years. You’re taken aback and completely speechless, you’re stunned and you think you’re losing it until Jaehyun calls out your name.

“Yes,” you reply, “yes, yes, yes!!! Let's get married!” You gleam, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight embrace.

Jaehyun pulls away from your waist and gives you a sincere look, “I know it’s not the ideal proposal, but I promise when we get back home, I’ll do it right. I’ll do everything right this time,” he declares.

“Oh honey,” you cup his cheek, “there’s nothing you did wrong, we all make mistakes and go through hard times. I’m just glad it all led me back to you.” you lean forward to kiss his forehead as he embraces you again.

It’s time, you were finally getting married to Jaehyun. And for real this time, no contract, no business, just love.

“By the power given to me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss each other. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Jung!”

Cheers throughout the venue fades as Jaehyun leans into your lips, a smile adorning his face as he places a gentle kiss on your lips. Flower petals are thrown in the air and smiles are exchanged between each side of the family.

And after the reception, dinner, first dance, cutting of the cake, bouquet tossing, and after everything fate has put you through, everyone bids you goodbye as you and Jaehyun run out of the reception hall. With the sparklers in their hands, complimenting the sunset in front of you, the cheers of encouragement sing through your ears as Jaehyun opens the car door for you. As he gets in, he gives you a teasing chaste kiss, before waving off to everyone and riding into the sunset.

You always had faith in fate, each decision has its own consequences and leads you on different paths. You often think to yourself if you had chosen a different path, where would it lead you? Would it lead you to the same ending? Or would you end up in a different place? And would the person you love the most be there? Yes. The answer is yes, wherever you go, you’re convinced Jaehyun will always be there. He will follow you like the sun and the moon, he will love you like how the moon leaves to let the sun breathe. Jaehyun will love you to the best of his abilities because you taught him to love himself. He’s almost convinced that you saved his life and he couldn’t be more grateful to have someone like you by his side.

Life was always good at never going the way you wanted it to. Like your mother said, “life isn’t fair,” yet at the time she said it, you were too young and only took it as a grain of salt. Little did you know, the world will throw you in several different directions, the world will bash you, judge you, and sometimes make you feel like it hates you. But when you find love, kindness, and forgiveness within yourself and others, everything that brought darkness will complement the light, showing how sometimes bad things happen so you can grow. Life is hard and no one said it was going to be easy, but right now, life is good. Life is great when you’re with Jung Jaehyun.

Fin.

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rinadragomir · 3 years

Photo

Here's the thing: our precious @666-notsatan is leaving us for an indefinite period.😿 She’s safe and sound, but she said that she will not be able to be on tumblr again and create content until she is 18 years old. She told me that she wants me to post the second part of our collaboration.💥

💓She was very upset that she had to leave us, but she hopes that you will appreciate this work and will wait for her.💓

Story belongs to our little @666-notsatan

↠𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐫

The last place Thomas had thought he would be in for winter or for shadowhunting business was back in Paris, but here he stood, Alastair by his side, gazing over what everyone claimed was ‘the most romantic city in the world’. The claim was rather anticlimactic when you were there with someone who hated your guts, cleaning up their exe’s mess.

The breeze blowing through the streets was bone chilling, and Thomas pulled his cloak around himself tighter, shivering. Alastair seemed entirely unbothered by it, his dark hair blowing around in silky strands, his face thoughtful and not sneering for what seemed like the very first time. Thomas only had a second to admire him, because then Alastair turned, face back to stern neutrality.

“Alright Lightwood,” he announced, “You know why we’re here. The goal is to be in and out as soon as possible and fix bloody Charles’ mess. Clear?”

Alastair put emphasis on spitting out Charles’ name, and Thomas raised an amused eyebrow, but nodded.

They moved through the streets in silence, the locals of Paris rushing past in a monochrome blur, everyone’s clothing in the same shades as the dull sky above. The energy of Paris was the opposite of London’s - nobody was in a rush, and the streets were clear, showing clean cobblestones. Thomas remembered the very first time he’d been here. It had been summer then, and rather hot. It had not been as it was now - it had been bustling with a sense of purpose. Now, everyone was collectively just enjoying a stroll.

“You can’t admire Paris all day,” Alastair looked up at Thomas, looking annoyed. “We have business.”

“Tessa and Will were meant to be doing this, the Clave won’t have much expectations for them to be home soon,” Thomas said, but Alastair just looked away, ignoring him completely.

It was going to be a long trip.

—

Alastair hated this. Even the hotel that had been chosen for them to stay in was the same as what he’d stayed in last time, with Charles. This whole blasted city was one, big reminder. Even Thomas.

Alastair stole a quick glance at his companion, and had to catch his breath. The light had caught perfectly on Thomas’ features, making the planes of his face smooth and elegant, a handsome beauty unique to only him. It felt odd sometimes around Thomas - sometimes, Alastair wanted to run away from him and never look back. Other times, the only person Alastair wanted around was Thomas, a steady and comforting light in his dreadful life.

“Your staring.”

“Am not.”

Thomas chuckled and pushed the door to the room they had to share open. “You’re in a rather difficult mood, aren’t you?”

Alastair ignored this and pushed past into the room, which was spacey and had a light feel to it, the curtains blowing onto the open balcony which overlooked the Louvre, a rather convenient view. A shame the hotel wouldn’t be getting any money from their week long stay - the glamor they had on meant that everyone thought this room was closed for maintenance.

Setting down his bags, Alastair set up camp by one of the beds, making it to his taste as Thomas looked out from the balcony, not bothering to be as organised.

The afternoon sun was already going down, the winter coming to take hold of the night.

“We should probably get some dinner,” Thomas yawned, and looked down at the street, then up at the sky. “But we can’t go out: it’s going to snow.”

“How can one be so sure of the weather?” Alastair joined Thomas out on the balcony, following the other boy’s gaze.

With a quick look at Alastair, Thomas shrugged and moved back into the bright room. “Sometimes, you just know some things everyone else doesn’t.”

Alastair couldn’t help but think the words were directed at him.

—

After two days of fixing up Charles’ mess, everything was finally back in right orders.

But, that also left them with another four days to kill.

They returned back to their room, covered in ichor and utterly exhausted. Alastair left to wash up, and Thomas stripped off his gear and hastily changed back into trousers and shirtsleeves. He changed as quickly as possible, so as to avoid the awkward situation they’d encountered yesterday.

Thomas had been in the middle of changing his shirt when Alastair had barged in, dark wet hair dripping onto the carpet and mouth open as he’d beheld Thomas without a shirt. Both had avoided the topic like a plague, but Thomas couldn’t help but remember the way Alastair had gawked and blushed. It was horribly awkward.

They’d fallen into a routine early on - each morning, Thomas would wake first, wash up and make breakfast. Alastair was a late sleeper, and it was usually ten o’clock before he awoke. Every morning without fail, he’d scold Thomas for not waking them, claiming they’d lost a good three hours of what could’ve been used to work.

Most of the day, they were out in Paris, visiting local haunts and talking with the downworlder residents of Paris. Lucky for the both of them, Alastair knew a great deal of French, learnt from his brief times in the great city.

On the first day, they had visited a small cafe, which was bustling with people, and Alastair had suggested Thomas order, using some simple French. They’d also decided this was the best cafe to go to for their week here, and had decided to introduce themselves. Unfortunately, Thomas’ ability to learn languages quickly had not worked, and the introduction had gone sideways.

“Repeat after me: Bonjour mademoiselle, je m’appelle Thomas. Comment ça va?”

Thomas had claimed he could recite the phrase, but had ended up saying something that roughly translated to; “what a horrible day, goodbye.”

Their nights were spent wandering around the small, forgotten parts of Paris; the places that were hidden in alleyways with bright window displays, the other shops with crowded store fronts no one ever bothered to look in, and many, many bookstores.

The unanimous conclusion had been everyone back in London at least deserved a souvenir, which had been turned into a book each. Indeed, a small pile sat on a desk in their room now.

The routine was a simple and steady rhythm both had followed to the letter and now that they were simply getting time off, it was about to change.

Today was a sunny day, and Thomas snatched up one of the books, moving out onto the balcony and taking up a spot on one of the small, lattice work metal chairs. It was far too small, but there weren’t any other choices.

“Thomas,” Alastair came out onto the balcony, in a white shirt, suspenders and a light coloured pair of trousers. “What are you doing?”

Thomas held up the book and smiled lazily, letting his head loll back. “Relaxing, you should try it some time.”

Alastair shook his head, and sat down opposite Thomas, catching the afternoon sun. It seemed to highlight Alastair’s features perfectly: add a golden sheen to his cheekbones, make his brown skin glow, and his hair shimmer like droplets of water in the light. Catching himself before the other boy caught him looking, Thomas began to read again, but only to appear busy.

“A Tale of Two Cities? Isn’t that the one Herondale’s parents are obsessed with? What the younger Herondale’s named after?”

“Do stop calling them all ‘Herondale’ Alastair, ‘Herondale’ has a name too.”

Alastair scoffed and crossed his arms stubbornly. “One of them’s marrying my sister. I have a right to act indifferent towards them.” Thomas just shook his head.

“They claim it’s one of the greatest love stories, you know,” Alastair said, gesturing towards the book. “I don’t think it is.”

“What makes you such an expert upon the topic of love?”

“A great deal more than you could ever imagine.”

Curious, Thomas shut the book and looked up. “What do you mean?”

Alastair sighed, and gave Thomas a long look. “Do you want to hear about why we’re actually here, cleaning up after the supposed future Consul, and not someone else?”

“Is that even a question?” Thomas laughed. “Of course I’d like to know. Tell me everything.”

—

By the time Alastair finished his tale about his and Charles’ relationship, it was midnight. They’d missed dinner, talked about Alastair’s relationship, and then moved onto the topic of love in general.

The opinions each of them posed were opposite to the others - Alastair believed the only way you could love was by sharing your heart fully, giving everything you had and showing everything you were so that the person truly fell in love with you, and felt comfortable enough to give everything back.

Thomas argued that love had to be a shared thing, a shared realisation that you couldn’t live your life if the person you loved wasn’t there for every day of it. Alastair had watched Thomas the whole time with an odd expression, but had never interrupted, nor pushed the topic any further. Now, the conversation had dropped to a companionable silence, Thomas gazing at the moon, and Alastair - in secret - at Thomas.

It wasn’t the first time that Alastair had been stealing glances, Thomas had noticed. It was always in the quiet moments, when it was just him talking. The feeling of knowing that Alastair was watching him always made Thomas nervous. You shouldn’t have felt the way you did around a good friend.

“What would you do if someone said they were falling in love?”

Thomas brought his mind back to the present moment and tore his gaze from the moon. “What?”

“What would you do if someone said they were falling in love?” Alastair repeated.

“It’s not Charles again, is it?”

“No, someone with a steadier presence, someone trustworthy and reliable. Kind and fair.” Alastair bit his lip and smiled to himself. “Some might say they’re even handsome.”

Alastair was so beautiful. The thought hit Thomas like a train, seeming to knock every other thought from his mind, the overwhelming desire to know everything about Alastair, not just the past, but to make his future, to be his one last love and only true love. But there was no way Alastair could have meant Thomas. There were many good men in the world, ones who would hold no past grudges, or who could probably ruin Alastair into pieces like he had been in before.

“But who?” Thomas asked carefully.

Instead of replying, Alastair got up, and went to the far edge of the balcony, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, putting pressure on the balcony railing as he pushed on it, and then pulled back on it. The words he was mumbling seemed to coincidentally rhyme with ‘duck’.

“It’s you.” Alastair finally said, voice barely audible.“It’s you, Thomas, and it just feels so right.”

Too shocked to speak, Thomas let out a strangled sound. “Me? You mean me, of all the people in this world-“

“Yes!” Alastair threw his arms wide, laughing. “Yes you Thomas! But you’re too good for me, and I have insulted you before this. I don’t deserve to love you if you’ve never done me any wrong. It is I who needs to atone for the past.”

“I don’t care if you were a total ass in the past anymore,” Thomas said, keeping a firm voice as his heart beat sped up. “I’ve come to know this Alastair, the new one, the one who is caring, and hurt and easy to love. The one who has guarded walls, who has a kind heart hidden by the mind of a protector and defender. I know you said a lot in the past, and they are not things to be proud of, yes. But I really don’t want to dwell on what has happened.”

“What are you saying then?” Alastair whispered.

Thomas stood up and came over to where Alastair stood at the railing, moonlight the only illumination. “What I’m saying,” Thomas whispered back, “is just this: what if I loved you too?”

—

Alastair felt like every breath had left his body.

Thomas loved him too?

Neither of them seemed to have words anymore. Thomas stood stiffly in front of Alastair, and the latter was gazing up in surprise at the former. What was meant to be said now?

“I love you,” Thomas seemed to just be saying the words now, as if to just reassure himself. “I love you Alastair.”

“And you mean it?”

“Yes, yes I do mean it. I truly do.”

“Then prove it,” Alastair said, voice low. “Prove to me you love me.”

Thomas looked sheepish as he replied; “how?”

Gently, Alastair guided Thomas’ hands onto his waist, and looped his hands around Thomas’ neck. “Kiss me, Thomas, and I will know you love me.”

Thomas leaned down, but didn’t kiss Alastair. “How could you possibly tell from one kiss?”

“When Charles kissed me-“

“Let’s not talk about him,” Thomas muttered, and finally kissed Alastair, holding onto him tightly. Even being tall himself, Alastair found that he had to rise onto his tip toes, trying to gain a bit of height between them.

Thomas’ lips were soft and gentle on Alastair’s own, a whisper of a kiss, barely a brush of lips.

But Alastair wanted more - it was an incoherent wanting, overwhelming but pleasant. He didn’t feel off as he had in the past, with that sickening feeling of dread. No, this made Alastair feel like he was finally at peace, that he’d found his place in life.

“Alastair,” Thomas whispered, stroking Alastair’s cheek. “I never thought…”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Alastair drew Thomas back into the room, directing them to the couch. “As long as you stay, it is all that matters.”

“I have been yours since the first time in Paris,” Thomas’ voice was low and gravely, desire taking over. “This is us, now and forever.”

@magnus-the-maqnificent @livvyheronstairs @kit-12 @stxr-thxif @runecarstairs @22herondale @yesimsufferinginside @itsdaughterofthemoon @herondalesunsetcurve @silvenys @too-many-aspirations @megs-readstoomuch @fair-but-wilde-child @thewolfnephilim @emablckthrn @lucieeblackthorn @cupcakesandkittens @fictionally-fantastic @dustandshadowsdtj @dustandshadowsworld @clockworkprincess19 @tsccreatorsnet @asphodelmeadowss @lucian-evander @textrovert-01 @youngreckless @lxcieherxndale @luciestale @lunalitha @lunar-martini @grass-m8 @rosewines-world @dianasarrow @panicatwallmaria @my-archerboy @dirigibledinosaur @dreamofmysoul-tsc @shadowhuntertrash @jesse-blackthorn-is-the-best-boy @tscfangirl-blackstairs

#thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #tsc #cassandra clare #shadowhunters #tlh

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trixxiephantomhive · 2 years

Text

August Minific Challenge day 04!!

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers

Today’s prompt is “How don’t you know the difference between your left and right?”

(Prompt list: )

WC is 693

Fugitive!Luka and Mari are making their way to London this time.

It’s the dead of night, and Luka and Marinette are running down the silent streets of Paris, trying to catch a ride on any bus that hopefully won’t call the cops on them.

They stop by a bus and Marinette and Luka go to board it. After getting on, the driver immediately yells for them to leave or he will call the cops, and in the heat of the moment Luka draws the gun Anarka had forced him to take with him when he started packing up to run. “Drive us to the Gare du Nord and don’t call the cops.” Luka sits in the frontmost seat facing the driver as Marinette takes the spot next to him.

The driver spits at them and curses. “Always knew you Vigilantes were freakazoids. I bet you’ve always been working with Hawkmoth.” Luka feels an almost predatory hiss climbing his throat but holds a straight face and just gestures to the gun.

The driver shuts up and takes them to where they wanted to go and Luka quickly pulls Marinette off the bus. “He’s gonna tell the cops where we’re going. We should transform to be safe then throw clothes over top.”

“Okay… and Luka… you wouldn’t actually shoot anyone… Right?”

The boy stares at her and almost drops his gun. “Of course not! It's just… we’re already criminals… It… seemed scary… I’m sorry Mar.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiles and quickly transforms and throws clothes on as they board the train, Luka having done the same. “I haven’t ever seen that side of you.”

“It’s the part of me I never want to be.”

“Mysterious.” The couple starts to giggle, some of the adrenaline fading away, as they’re already another step to safety.

After a bit of a trip, they carry their few things to the small residence in a quiet part of town and knock on the door. A slim woman seeming to be almost an exact copy of Sabine appears, quickly pulls the two weary travelers inside and gives them some tea.

“Hello there. My Name is Shu-Yin.” The curt woman says to Luka. Throwing him off, mostly because he expected the calm and happy personality of Marinette’s mother. Which he then criticizes himself for being so dumb, knowing how diffrent heand Juleka are.

“Oh… Uh, this is Luka,” Marinette says, glancing at Luka and snapping in his face to bring him back from having zoned out.

He snaps back and looks at the ground “Apologies. I started thinking about my sister.”

The older woman nods. “Well you both could use the sleep. So let me show you where you can sleep. I assume sharing a bed isn’t something new for you two?”

“Are we that obviously dating??” Marinette exclaims in her usual jumpy nature.

“I only meant that most one bed hotel rooms are cheaper and that I assume you’re trying to save your Limited cash.”

“Uh… that too.” Marinette groans, feeling like she’s embarrassed herself. Luka silently wraps his arm around her as they are shown their newest bedding.

The couple sits down and they start to chat as they change into more comfortable clothes, and finally detransform. Luka collapses on the bed and Marinette crawls in next to him “Hey Mar, I think I scraped my hand getting off the bus.”

“Do you want me to put some cream on it to help the burn?”

“Please do.”

They both sit up and Marinette pulls out her first aid kit, a necessity when you’re a wanted criminal. She glances at him and smiles. “Which hand?”

“Left. Guess I’m not playing guitar for a day or so.” He smiles at Marinette kneeling in front of him. She starts to lift her hands and make L shapes, along with scrunching up her face to figure out which hand is which, after giving up she looks up. “Just give me the hurt hand.”

“Do you not know which is left?”

“Nope…”

“How do you not know the difference between your left and right?”

“Never learned. Now just give me your hand.”

16 notes · View notes

astriefer · 3 years

Text

Just Let Me Breath With You

Pairing: Thomastair

Word count: 3033

Warning: CHAIN OF IRON SPOILERS, injury, blood, mentions of trauma

It all happened in a swift blink of an eye. The demon attack, the fighting, it all passed in a great swipe of Thomas's boleadoras.

The attack was surprising - not because it was an attack, but because it was close to the stronghold of London's enclave- the London institute. Demons lurked in the road, near Fleet street. A get-together at the institute was held that gray, hazy day in London. What precisely they celebrated was beyond Thomas; what mattered was that old and young Shadowhunters as one joined the battle against the horde of Achaieral demons. Their numbers were the larger he has seen ever since the Mandikhor. It didn't pass smoothly - some injured, although Thomas hadn't registered who. During the fight, Henry or Christopher threw at the demons one of their newest innovation. He noticed only a blur, a small grenade-like object, thrown close to where he was fighting one of the demons. He tried to stop the nasty-looking Achaieral demon from flying - with Thomas himself- when smoke swirled from the thrown grenade. There was a hollow thud of metal hitting something, an explosion followed afterward, and the demon disappeared. Maybe it was better not to inhale, but he was surrendered by the weird, thick smoke. He wasn't blown up from his inside out, so he considered it safe enough. As for now, the gates of the institute were behind him, hanging open to carry wounded and hurtling carriages.

Thomas's hands were sore and calloused as he rubbed them against his neck. He swayed slightly, an expression of a fool sprawled over his face. He surveyed his surroundings in bewilderment. Soon enough, worried and relieved faces gathered around him. His friends and family crowded him, mumbling altogether to make no sense at all. It felt utmost importance to note to himself not all of his friends and family truly were there. Matthew wasn't, and so was Cordelia. He heard the word "overwhelmed" in all the havoc. He didn't understand what they were talking about - surely they had been fine if they were running around the way they did.

He kept his eyes on them, trying his best to decipher what they were saying, but his gaze inevitably slipped away from them. He caught a brown blur of torn red jacket, grey pants, and tousled dark hair. That instant, the world turned down, and all left was him and this man in another corner of the institute. Even the voices surrounding him ceased to exist.

On the spur of the moment, he briskly departed from his family and friends and walked to him, barely restraining himself from storming toward him. A hand rested on his forearm - an attempt to stop him - but he shook it off without glancing at whomever it was. Sensing his intensive look, Alastair stared at him with a puzzled countenance. The short man was sitting against a wall, letting another Shadowhunter draw an iratze on his left arm. Thomas remembered Alastair charging to battle, now and in other battles they fought side by side, and relief I've washed him because he didn't seem to be wounded. By the time he reached them, It didn't matter who the other person was. The moment he captured Alastair's forearm, he broke into a run, not bothering to look at anyone as they hastily evaporated from the forecourt. Bad-mannered indeed, but Thomas was sure whoever that was would've understood urgent matter to talk with Alastair if he had known.

The tall man led the other through hurrying servants and leery eyes. Thomas almost knocked over a few people, but he did not find himself to care much more than mumble a half-hearted 'sorry'. He hadn't let go of Alastair, just loosened his grip slightly so he could slip his hand into Alastair's. His hold was firm nonetheless.

"Thomas!'" Alastair called out and caused him to turn his head over his shoulder. By the look of annoyance on his face, Thomas assumed the other man called his name a few times. Or perhaps, it was a result of being publicly dragged by Thomas for no apparent reason. Then he understood. Alastair had to run in order to follow him at this pace. For the first in entirety, Thomas cursed Alastair's shorter legs; but he quickly took it back because Alastair was, of course, the most beautiful the way he is. e slowed down his pace enough for Alastair to walk beside him, still dragging him after him. He felt a jolt of surprise Alastair didn't fight him about that, that he just let him take him to wherever he had in mind. Perhaps he was too stunned to really do anything else but stare at Thomas.

Thomas hadn't stopped to ponder over his good luck and no fuss from Alastair's side. He navigated through the maze of rooms and corridors, guiding Alastair to a casual unused guest room. He thrust the door open, let Alastair and himself enter before releasing his hand and shutting it close. He couldn't quite catch his breath.

He spun around to confront Alastair. Beautiful, he thought. The man in front of him was beautiful. Alastair - with torn clothes and dirt on his face - looked as charming as ever. In the last rays of the London sun, Alastair's eyelashes cast shadows upon his face. His cheeks seemed a bit red - was it because of Thomas or because of the previous fight? - and he chewed his lower lip. Thomas had the sudden urge to raise his hand and separate his lip from his teeth, pass his thumb on the soft mouth of Alastair Carstairs. The older man clearly tried to look expressionless, but he could see he studied him with concerned eyes. Thomas saw the question in them as well. Out of self-awareness, he looked down at his own clothes; they were rumpled and he lost his waistcoat in the fight, leaving him with trousers, a jacket, and a white shirt. All stained Ichor. He peered at Alastair, his clothes, and Alastair again. He must have looked like a corpse. Alastair, however, kept his captivating eyes on him, endearing-looking with his normal composed facade slightly off.

Alastair's stopped biting his lip and opened his mouth to talk, yet before he could voice a word, Thomas stepped closer and buried his face in the soft hair of Alastair Carstairs. He relished the feeling of Alastair close to him, of his smell and heartbeat and warmth. "You're here. You're fine."

His voice was just above a whisper, but it filled the quiet room. "I wanted to talk with you for days now." Alastair's breath hitched. He hadn't pulled away. He hadn't tried to push Thomas aside. It was Thomas who backed away from their position. Alastair tilted his head up to look at his face and gasped loudly when Thomas crushed him in a hug. He groaned in pain, and it struck him Alastair had been injured.

"You are hurt." Thomas's voice was almost offended. He loosened his grip on Alastair, whose hand came to rest protectively on his side, where his bruise must have been. Thomas recalled all of sudden he had been given an iratze. Was his wound worse than just a bruise?

"It's nothing," Alastair wheezed and took a careful breath.

Their gazes met for a long moment. Alastair didn't squirm. Thomas leaned forward leisurely, testing his boundaries. When his lips collided with Alastair's forehead, he let out a sigh against the soft skin. Alastair stood strained at first, then slowly relaxed. it had not even been a week since the sanctuary, since Belial and his schemes, since Cordelia and Matthew disappeared to Paris. Alastair was avoiding him like the plague, and Thomas couldn't blame him much. He wished he could. It hurt seeing Alastair and knowing he could not be with him the way he craved to be. He suspected Alastair would back away soon, leave him alone in this room, disappear without a second glance. Come and leave like in a dream. Like in their time in Paris.

Then, "I am glad you are okay as well."

Thomas's heart skipped a beat. Or a few. He abruptly ducked his head into Alastair's neck, close to his pulse. His body lost its tense as he devoted all his heed to the marvelous sound of Alastair's heart, beating strong and fast, addicting to Thomas's mind. Not a minute later he felt small palms pushing against him gently. He drew away begrudgingly.

His eyes were unclear, while Alastair's were shining brightly. Too brightly. He lifted his arm to touch the side of the fair hair on Thomas's head. When he lightly caressed it, Thomas winced. Letting his arm fall to his side, Alastair said, "You are hurt too. You need treatment."

Alastair dismissed his injury because he didn't want to worry Thomas and make it about him; Thomas dismissed it because he didn't want to be away from Alastair. His head was throbbing; it didn't matter. "It's nothing." he tried to enfold the small figure in his arms once again, but Alastair didn't let him. Thomas didn't try again, just silently observed Alastair. The dark man's eyes were conflicted as to if debating over himself what to do now. He sighed. "We can't, Tom. Please."

It was like a heated knife to his heart. He swallowed tightly. "I know," he forced himself to speak. "I am - I keep remembering all you are. All I love about you. Your hair," he counted and planted a kiss on his damp hair. Alastair looked at him, surprise written over all his face. "Your haughty smile, your dark colors, your eyes-" sparks of gray in a pool of black that reminded him of a starry sky. "Your lips," He closed his eyes. "your heart, so wide and loving, despite how much you try to conceal it. Your stubbornness, kindness, and selflessness. Your love for mundane movies and history and art. All of it. The feeling I can twirl around you for hours without getting a tad bit tired."

"Thomas," Alastair whispered.

"You deserve to be happy. I wish you would let me show you some of it," he continued tentatively. The man in front of him stood rigid, and it made sprouts of doubt rise in Thomas's chest.

"Thomas. No. No. We cannot. Don't act like we- as we could ever happen. Don't say those things to try and convince me we can be more than heartbreak for each other."

The knife twisted. Thomas blinked. "I am not telling this to try and win you over, Alastair," he said slowly. "I am telling you this because you deserve to know. Because I want you to know how much you mean to me," he inhaled, feeling a bit lightheaded, and went on. "With my friends, I always hide this part of me. The part you take in my life, in my heart. I can be all I am with you. You understand me so easily, that it takes my breath away. I- I am not as good at words as James is. I am not as wild or charming as Matthew. I am not as talented as Kit. I am me, and with you, I feel it's enough."

"Tom, it always has been enough."

Thomas sucked in a breath. How could he say this and expect Thomas to keep his face straight and his heart in control? He tried to push Thomas away but didn't let him think less of himself. He didn't let himself what he deserved, what they both did, because he believed they would both end up hurt. "I know so many things are - complicated," Alastair snorted at that. "But right now, everything is lucid, with you here."

He gazed deeply into those dark eyes. They held depths inside them he wanted to learn off by heart. Depths he wished to explore but could not reach.

Alastair shook his head and stubbornly kept his gaze at his dusted shoes. "You think we have reason by our side, but all we have is the burning yearning and stolen time." He knew if he let himself fall this time, he could not stand back. He would lose himself those kind hazel eyes, his deep voice, his brave heart, in everything that is Thomas Lightwood.

"We have more than this," Thomas declared. "I trust you."

Alastair piped his head up, "What?"

"I trust you," he repeated."And I want you, Alastair. I know you do too. But I want you to trust me as well. Trust me when I say I will never say those things just to make you give in and be with me. I am saying them because they are the mere truth and because I care for you."

Alastair glanced away hastily, eluding his eyes. "You are in no condition to make this decision. You- We can't -"

"But do you want us to be? Do you wish us to be together? "

Electricity filled the room, and both couldn't take their eyes off the other. Thomas knew it wasn't fair of Alastair to ask such a question. He knew on his flesh what it is to admit- even simply to oneself - you want something and believe you would never have it. That is how Alastair seemed to perceive them - a false fantasy, a feverish dream that would never come true. Thomas knew as well that Alastair had made it clear he didn't think they had a future, and making him fumble with those pieces of broken fantasy could hurt worse than words could. Yet, a part of Thomas couldn't help but wonder what the other had been through to be so hesitant to let himself be happy.

Do not say it's not possible on my behalf, he wanted to shout. If you wish to break my heart, do it because what you want is not a future with me in it.

"Yes."

Relief came so fast he felt abashed. His heart pounded ear-piercingly through his body. "Tell me," he asked gingerly. " Will you allow me to kiss you?"

Alastair drew in a sharp breath. Color flooded his cheeks. "Thomas..."

Thomas searched his face, which for so long was emotionless when he saw him the past week. He saw the hurt - how much it must be for Alastair? he pondered - and the fear. The dark-eyed gentleman wouldn't believe Thomas's words. He wasn't sure he could trust him with his heart. For now, he shall have the certitude for both of them. There was a voice telling him he wouldn't have come to Alastair after the fight if he could think clearly. He pushed that part away, locked it in a cage, and threw away the key.

He swallowed down the odd, stinging feeling of being rejected. "Will you allow me to embrace you, then? " Just let me breathe with you. Let me hold you in my arms, to reassure us both, to know you are here. "You don't have to. I swear to it." He took a step back to prove his statement.

The judicious decision was to ignore the offer. To turn away from Thomas and all the comfort he had to give. Alastair was on the verge of tears. Thomas hated those tears were because of him. Because of them. Alastair opened his eyes and hummed acquiescently, soft and low.

The shreds of resistance left Alastair's body as Thomas swooped him into a hug. His big hand passed his head on Alastair's back, between his shoulder blades, and to his lumbar. He absentmindedly caressed Alastairs's side, touching Alastair's wound lightly. The smaller man shied away from the contact but immediately calmed back into the hug. He stifled a whine, and in the back of Thomas's mind, he knew they both had to get checked on. Thomas put his cheek on the other man's forehead. He closed his eyes and let out a pleased noise. Alastair's arms slowly cloaked Thomas's waist, holding him close.

"We should return," Alastair whispered. A few minutes had passed. They were alone, far away from anyone who might hear, but the moment was so dreamlike and tender both were afraid to break the air around them. That alternate reality they formed in this godforsaken room, for a glimpse of a moment.

"I find it so tremendously difficult to do," his breath felt heavy; so did his heart. "Because I don't want to ever let go of you."

He heard Alastair gasp, and Thomas's own breath was quivering. The pulse beating deep in Alastair's chest raced, and Thomas was sure he could listen to it forevermore. The hug felt more private than a kiss, more overwhelming and welcoming and warm and protecting and trusting. "I missed you."

"Tom," Alastair's voice was suffocated, and thick from emotion, as if he was a boat that slowly sank because it's full of water. Thomas tried to retreat, suddenly fearing he passed the line. He must have passed it long ago, and yet Alastair let him, despite his own warnings. Thomas was about to apologize when he felt Alastair's hands tightening around him, and then the blazing understanding hit Thomas that It was Alastair's way of telling it was fine. Haltingly, he returned to their previous position.

They were hugging, nothing more. But the proximity made Thomas feel a sense of internal peace, like a calm wave hitting the sand lightly. It made his lungs protest because he was out of breath. How could he ever let go? It was better than nothing at all, better than air and staring long at the wall of his room. It was Alastair, and he was ready to take every drop given to him. Yet, because it was Alastair, he could never get enough. It was hard to capture it - the soft looks, the thumping hearts, the yearning and the hurt. Thomas's cheek was still pressed against Alastair's forehead. He shifted to hide his face in his strands, dark like the night, soft as a feather. Alastair's smell was intoxicating. The words slipped his tongue before he knew it. "I am glad I am here with you."

There was a beat of silence. The voice of the man he loved - Thomas almost startled himself by the heedless use of the word love - barely reached his ears.

"I am, too."

116 notes · View notes

secret-ssociety · 4 years

Text

Behind the scenes

Pairing(s): Aaron Tveit x Reader, Les Mis (2012) cast x Reader

Warnings: This is just fluff. Like one curse

Summary: It is never intended for Enjolras and Eponine to fall in love in the original story, but a lot of things can happen when the cameras are turned off

A/N: I know everyone is waiting for more of the Let Me Down series but I have wanted to do this for a long time bc I am utterly in love with this man and I've always said I don't want to just write Peter Parker's stuff. Might make this several parts, who knows, I like things with parts.

masterlist

requests are open!!

For the first time in the whole day, silence fell upon the set of Les Mis, being only vaguely interrupted by the quiet chatter of everyone else who, unlike you, still had energy to talk. It's not like it was your fault, though, you had no idea of how much running around implied to play Eponine.

Huddled in a quiet corner of what had been built to be the Café Musain, you pushed your knees against your chest and hid your face between them, hoping to catch some rest before Tom decided he wanted to do a scene again. Was it maybe two in the morning? Three? You didn't even know anymore, you weren't allowed to carry a watch around your wrist and your phone was charging in your trailer, but the last time you had checked it was midnight and that had been a few hours ago.

Doing a movie, you had come to learn in your first few days of filming, was quite different from putting up a show. Interacting with your surroundings, going over scenes and even directing your eyes to a certain place while saying your lines was a world away from your common place on stage. You'd had to repress a loud squeak on your first day on set when you saw just how real everything looked, and when you started to try on your garments... you might as well have been a street urchin on Paris, 1832.

A small finger touched your shoulder timidly, waking you up from your fragile sleep and making you lift your head from its place. Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the light and you even had to squint a little to recognize Daniel standing next to you, looking just as tired, but with a small flame of caffeine dancing in the back of his eyes. Who the fuck gave the kid coffee? You wondered.

"How long do you think they'll keep us here?" he asked sitting next to you. From all your cast mates, Daniel was probably the first one you had grown fond of, but then again, so had everyone.

"Maybe not much longer, unless they want us to be here at noon tomorrow," you answered raising an eyebrow. Being the youngest person on the whole set, you could tell he was trying to hold his own like the adults, drinking coffee and doing his best to stay awake.

The problem with that, you knew, was that caffeine reacted differently on kids and adults: when an adult drinks coffee, it gives them energy for a long period of time, the caffeine is distributed in order to serve the body for good while. When a child drinks coffee, on the other hand, the caffeine gives them a rush of adrenaline that gets them jumping up and down and running circles around the adults, very much like Daniel was doing a while ago, thus burning all the energy they had acquired as fast as they had engorged it.

"You want to rest for a minute?" you asked him, stretching your legs so that he could rest his head on them. He shook his head tiredly, but didn't put up a fight when you grabbed his shoulder and started to lay him down.

Softly, you caressed his hair, while carefully trying to undo the tangles the dirt had made onto his hair to give him that street gamine I-live-in-the-elephant-of-the-Bastille look. In a matter of seconds, he was fully asleep, snoring quietly against the fabric of your skirt.

You heard some of the boys approaching, laughing loudly with cups of steaming coffee on their hands, and were quick to lift your finger up to your lips, to let them know of the resting boy that would be quickly awaken by their laughs. They apologized in whispers, handed you the cup they had brought for you and sat around you.

"Helena is trying to convince them to let us go to the hotel," Alistair commented, although he didn't look tired at all, more like he was amused by everyone else's exhaustion.

You sighed in relief against the cup, which was held close to your lips, making the steam hit your face in a warmth that made you aware of how cold your nose was. Only one gulp of the bitter liquid was enough to warm the blood flowing through your veins and take you back to life, you could open your eyes properly and the first the landed on was one of the most distinctive of your cast mates: Aaron Tveit.

Was there something special about him that made you think of his full name instead of just the first? Yeah, everything. He was the embodiment of the Enjolras Victor Hugo had wrote, the one that had been nicknamed Apollo by his friends. Maybe it was the way he held himself, somehow taller than everyone else, with that revolutionary fire in his eyes and walking around the set like he was actually going to get the people to build a barricade.

Wherever he happened to exist, you couldn't help but feel the presence of an olden god amongst mortals, the time go slower and light to travel in a bliss. There was just something so ethereal about him...

"He's talent, isn't he?" Alistair commented, having followed the direction of your eyes. "Among other things," Eddie joked, perhaps having caught on on the repressed smitten nature of your gaze. Stubbornly, you rolled your eyes.

As if saved by the bell, your director announced that everyone was allowed to go and get some rest, under the condition that you had to be back the next day before lunch. You were so tired, you almost forgot you were on your costume, being remembered by Eddie when you walked straight to the exit.

Up until that day, you had followed you stylist's skincare routine religiously every day after finishing filming, but once you found yourself in your sweatpants and Alistair's sweater, you simply poured water in your face and wiped all the makeup away with a paper towel.

Outside of your trailer, you found at least half of the Amis waiting for you to go grab some pizza while forming a wall to shield a newly caffeinated Daniel from your accusatory eyes. "I just left my cup unattended for a second!" George said quickly. You didn't know if you should laugh or yell at them, but you decided you were too tired to do either, so you simply took his hands and walk with the boys to the minivans the studio had hired for your transportation.

Eating pizza after having barely washed the makeup off of your face and only having a few hours to sleep after? You knew you were going to break out, but that was a tomorrow's problem.

Perhaps it was the magic that gravitated around Aaron that made you look back to see him, walking several feet behind the lot of you and clearly immersed on his thoughts. What you did next wasn't exactly a conscious decision, but it felt as natural as if it were.

"Hey, Tveit," you smiled, stopping before him. He looked surprised for a second, since he hadn't heard you approach him, but then smiled softly at you.

"Hello, Y/L/N," he said back, looking at you with those piercing eyes of him.

"We're going to grab a bite, wanna come?" You asked with a bright smile, one so cute that made it hard for him to say no.

"I don't know, it's late..." he said with half a smile.

"Did you know that pizza wasn't invented until the late half of the 18th century," you said, persistently, making him raise an eyebrow at the random fact, "that means all of our characters died without having ever eaten pizza. Shouldn't we, in order to honor them, do the things they never got to do?"

Aaron tried as hard as he could to fight back a smile at your argument. He had heard from the other guys about your occurrences and funny yet charming way with words, but he still hadn't had a chance to delight himself with it all too much. Maybe you were both too busy, maybe he wasn't as good as he liked to think to break the ice and Alistair had beat him to it.

He was practically convinced already, but still you added, "come on, Enjolras is still going to be here tomorrow morning... er, today a little less morning." You corrected checking the time on your wrist watch.

He was tired and not really hungry, but sill he nodded and followed you to the exit, where the rest of your friends cheered upon his joining.

Thankfully, the place Fra Fee knew was not too far away from the hotel, because none of you would have managed to walk too much after the day you'd had. Pulling a couple of tables together with the help of a waitress who pretended not to be a little starstruck, all of you sat down and ordered. You personally tried to ignore the way Eddie gave you his sit so that you would end up sat next to Aaron.

After ordering three large pizzas and some lemonade, and having grudgingly remembered that you couldn't order a beer or anything of the sort, you resumed your chattery. You soon found that, while you weren't the only theatre actress on the room, you were the only one who had never been on a film before. Still, that didn't mean your previous work had gone unnoticed.

"I was really excited to meet Y/N," Eddie commented on Daniel's side, "because I went to see her in The Phantom of The Opera, in London and I was" he made the gesture of his head blowing up, making you laugh.

"Yes, I knew I had seen you somewhere! You're Christine Daaé!" George exclaimed, interrupting the bite he was about to give to his pizza.

"Didn't you say on the first table reading that your dream role is Esmeralda, from the Hunchback?" Aaron perked up, making you blush a little.

"Esmeralda, Christine and Eponine," Alistair numbered, only giving you time to nod, "are you planning on becoming the Holy Trinity of French Theater?"

"I'll be able to say the Holy Trinity of French Theater died in my arms!"

You almost spilled your lemonade at the exclamation, unable to contain your laughs, very much like everyone else on the table. You didn't mean for your face to be as red as it was in that moment, but you couldn't help it when everyone seemed to be so interested in your past work. Despite attention being your line of work, you didn't know how to handle it that good.

It was when Daniel's adrenaline burnt off, as you had predicted, and he was found too tiresd to even keep his head up that you came back to the hotel, with the quiet company of Aaron, who had also offered to take the young boy back to his room. You were both in silence, though it was not an awkward one, it just wasn't necessary to talk to enjoy the other's company.

"We're getting a cow," he said suddenly, when you were approaching the entrance of the hotel.

"What?" You asked with a confused smile.

"We're getting a cow, on the set, tomorrow," he clarified grinning, "she will be there for the scenes of the barricade."

"Why would a cow be on a barricade?" You questioned with a laugh, opening the door for Aaron, since he was carrying Daniel, and receiving a little thank you in return. "Not that I'm complaining."

He laughed in return and followed you to the elevator, making sure neither the young boy nor the jacket he had put over him fell from his embrace. The cow thing had just been to start conversation and be able to ask what he really wanted to know, although he was a little pumped up about the cow.

"Do you want to do what Alistair said?" He asked curiously, "About being the Holy Trinity of French Theater, it is."

"I had never thought about it that way, but it sounds quite nice," you answer thoughtfully. "Though, I believe I would have to play Eponine on a stage, rather than a set to really earn that title."

"You're not liking movie making so far?" He asked somewhat amused, specially when you whipped your head to look at him with wide eyes.

"No! That's not what I mean," you talked so fast you nearly stumbled through your words, but the kindness on his eyes made you sigh and calm down. "This has been amazing so far and I would never underestimate the huge effort it takes to make one of these. I mean, I've only been doing this for a couple days and I'm already beyond exhaustion. And yet it has been wonderful, the set and the preparation and just seeing all the work it implies is... unbelievable."

You knocked three time on the door, to see Daniel's mother not two seconds later. Aaron had been worried that maybe she would be concerned and even a little mad at how late her son was coming back, but you had been texting her throughout the extra hours of shooting and to let her know you were going to take him to eat something before coming back to the hotel.

She kindly thanked you both, took Daniel (who was still sound sleep) on her arms and gave Aaron his jacket back, to then close the door. Without saying much, he walked you to your own room, prompting you to continue.

"Where was I? Oh, yeah! So filming a movie is... I'm running out of adjectives, but it's really great," he chuckled slightly, "but I don't think it can top the feeling of being on the theater," you sighed dreamily.

"On stage, there is no take two, the things you're doing can only be done once. There's..." your tongue ran through your lips, an action Aaron found almost mesmerizing, as you tried to find the words to describe the thing you loved the most in the world. "There's this feeling, when the show is about to start, the lights dim, the overture starts and you get goosebumps and you heart starts thumping at the moment you come on stage, there's something about that moment being unrepeatable and having the eyes of the crowd on you, the adrenaline is just... is like the identity line that divides the actor from their character disappears and in that moment you're not quite them, but you're not you, you're just..." you let out a breath at the inability to find the word and, for a moment, you worried you might have bored him with your rambling, but he had that bliss over his face, the one only a theatre actor knows and has, that told you he knew exactly what you're talking about.

The next morning, back on set and with your costumes again covering your backs, Aaron found himself so hypnotized by the sight of you rehearsing with Amanda his tea got cold and was utterly scared when Eddie's palm fell onto his back, dragging him out of his day dream.

"Is this the part when the Phantom is stalking Christine?" George asked jokingly, making Aaron roll his eyes.

For someone who made so much fun of him for becoming Enjolras, he had certainly developed Grantaire's mocking nature.

"She's really talented," the blonde man answered nonchalantly, drinking from his tea and making a face when he found out the drink was cold.

"I see," Eddie said handing him his tea, "are you seeing our dear Y/N under a new light?"

Was he? It would be a lie to say he didn't come back to his room with you occupying every single one of his thoughts, his heart fluttering who had managed to put his passion for theatre in words. Had his hands always became a little shaky around you? Yes. But today it was even worse.

Today, your voice giving life to Eponine's thoughts and emotions could make his cheeks blush or bring tears to his eyes in a matter of a second. Today, you walked around with a strange light over you, one that didn't allow him to look away while, at the same time, reprehended him for staring. Today, you were more than an artist, an actress. You were something more than human.

"Nonsense," he replied stubbornly, "I have always known how talented she is."

Before he could get a sarcastic comment or a snide yet friendly remark, the three men's chatter was interrupted by the two previously mentioned ladies rehearsing The Robbery, one of the scenes you planned on filming that day.

"It's the police! Disappear! Run for it!" Your strong soprano voice cut all chattery in one swift motion. "It's Javert!"

He probably held his breath for as long as you held the note. Once you opened your eyes, you seemed a little embarrassed at all the eyes on you, but Aaron didn't understand just what did you have to be embarrassed about.

Eddie shook his shoulder, "breathe, mate!"

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