#their faces seeing him interrupting their dance would’ve been gold

[kat-rose-griffith]

What I would’ve given to see Violet, Portia, Benedict, Lady Danbury, and the Queens reactions to Colin ruining Penelope’s engagement to Debling

[thinkingboute]

would you? | harry styles x model!oc

summary: The show goes off without a hitch, but Lina's interaction with Harry before clouds her mind. At the after party, she takes one for the team when Gigi tries to get in with other One Direction member, Zayn Malik. Ironic meetings lead to a first date. Part 3 of the Masks series.

part 1 here! part 2 here!

warnings: mentions of drugs, disordered eating, vomit, anxiety, alcohol, allusions to sex

a/n: This one was so much fun to write! The parts are getting longer from here.I hope you like it!

word count: about 2.4k

Holy shit these were some high heels. 

Lina danced in place, shaking the nerves that wracked her body as she prepared to walk the stage. Sweat accumulated beneath the bra and underwear---if you could even call them that. Gilded Angels was the theme this year and, goddamn, did Lina feel absolutely gilded. 

The set she wore was less fabric and more faux metal. It appeared that gold had been molded to cup her breasts, pushing them up beyond what she ever thought possible. Her wings were white, like Biblical angel wings, with gold dusted tips. Gold heels wove their way up her calves like Greek sandals. She felt holy. And really fucking hot---in both ways. 

Taylor Hill, who was opening the show, shimmied behind the curtains, lost in the heavy fabric. It was clearly go time, which usually spurred Lina to focus and quit her nervous movement. Today, she couldn’t calm herself down. Pictures of that messy haired Brit flooded her mind. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little excited to walk past him in this outfit. 

You look good. 

That’s what he said to her just an hour ago. Her head was covered in curlers, robe disheveled, eyes closed. She was giddy at the thought of him seeing her all done up. I look better than good now.

Lina squealed as two strong hands shook her shoulders from behind. “Let’s fucking go, Li!” Gigi shrieked, smacking a kiss to her cheek. The girls laughed, jumping up and down. Gigi had a way of making everything seem like just a game.

“Don’t fuck up my hair, Gi,” Lina said, giggling. Gigi’s hands spun Lina to face her. 

Ignoring her comment, Gigi grabbed her face. “I don’t walk until Taylor’s on stage,” she said, clearly excited to walk while her friend performed. Lina had become quite used to being surrounded by stars, but she was a little too excited at the thought of talking to Taylor Swift. She and Gigi had become close since the Oscars earlier that year, and Lina was hoping that would give her and in.

“I walk in…” Lina searched the room for a clock. “Four minutes.”

“I saw you talking to Harry Styles earlier,” Gigi whispered, wiggling her brows. “You seemed to be laughinggg and smilinggg and…” she lowered her voice even more, “flirtinggg…”

“Ugh, leave me alone,” Lina rolled her eyes. “We met at that masquerade thing in October.” Gigi covered her mouth with a hand.

“Why didn’t you te---”

“Because there’s nothing to tell.” Gigi started again but Lina put a hand up. “Really, it wasn’t my best moment. He was just teasing me about it earlier.” Gigi wiggled her brows again. “I was puking in the men’s bathroom, Gi. If there was ever a chance in hell he would be into me, it’s long gone.”

“I’m going to pretend that’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard today,” Gigi said, a crease appearing between her brows. “Anyway, if he really thought you were that weird, he probably would’ve stayed far away from you today. But he didn’t.” Her laugh was more of a hehe.

“I can barely look him in the eye. God, that was terrible, I---” Lina was interrupted by her name being called by the show’s producers. “Time to go. I talk to you later, baby.”

Lina’s hand was pulled towards the curtains. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to center herself as hand flew all around her, adjusting her wings, tousling her hair, and freshening her gloss. 

Lina recognized the song she was set to walk out to. Rock Me. She didn’t think One Direction would have songs that would fit a VS show. They were so…teenage girl. But this song was a bit dirtier, and it had a nice beat. She put on her super sexy and poised model mask and stepped out from behind the curtain. 

The band members were scattered about the runway. Her eyes found Harry at the end immediately. Her shoulders thrown back, she began her walk, smiling and winking at the boys she passed by. She thought one of her wings may have wacked Niall in the face, but she tried not to think much about it. 

She reached Harry after what seemed like a decade of walking. She was too nervous to look him in the eye. She wondered if, when he looked at her now, he still saw the puking corpse he saw a few months ago. 

Harry was certainly not hurting for confidence. He grabbed her hand and spun her around, leading her to walk back down the runway. Lina, as hard as it was, kept up her flirty persona, looking back over her shoulder to wink at him before slowly letting go of his hand. The walk back felt a bit like flying. 

The rest of the show went by in a blur. It was Gigi’s first time walking the show, but no one would’ve been able to tell. Her confidence oozed through every pore of her perfect face. When she got off the stage, she was bouncing off the walls, ready to find some sort of shit food to consume ASAP.

But there was an after party to attend. Lina peeled herself out of her outfit, carefully handing it to the women who surrounded her, ready to rip it from her hands. It wasn’t strange to be naked in front of so many people anymore. She’d been doing it since she was 16. She tried not to think about that part too much. 

Her new outfit consisted of a vintage VS slip, of course, with some artfully ripped tights, and heeled boots that cut off just below the knee. With her hair thrown back loosely into a pony, she felt sufficiently prepared to face her first celebrity party since the ball. 

Darren congratulated her on (his words) another fantastic show. She smiled, mind elsewhere, and got into the car, whose door he held open. 

The ride to the venue was not more than 15 minutes, but for all Lina knew, it could’ve been hours. Her mind was set on exactly what she would say to Harry when she saw him, because she knew she’d see him. His band was full of a bunch of 20 something boys. They would not pass up the opportunity to go to a party full of drinks and models. 

Darren noticed her not-quite-on-Earth-ness and waved a hand in front of her face. She swatted at it, rolling her eyes.

“Thinking about that One Way kid?” he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Darren?” Lina snorted. 

“Whatever, the British kid with the hair. I don’t care to know more about him that I have to.”

“You don’t have to know anything.”

“When he comes to your room tonight, or you go to his, it will be my job to know about him.”

Lina blushed and buried her face in her hands. “Darren, you perv!”

“Trust me, I wish I didn’t have to think about these things. But I saw him leaning on that table earlier, like he’s some sort of Elvis. It was embarrassing how hard he was trying, honestly.”

“I told you about our…run in in October, right? He was just making fun of me,” She said still not looking at him. “And, not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t make it a habit of going to any guys room before I’ve been taken on a proper date.”

It was Darren’s turn to cover his face. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can we please stop talking about this? It feels like discussing my sex life with my father.”

Darren winced. “I’d love nothing more.”

The car pulled up to the hotel the party was taking place in. Although it was dark, it was hard not to spot it. A massive crowd of paparazzi was piled on the steps to the entrance. 

“Fucking perfect.”

Darren slid out of the car, opening the door for Lina. She stepped out, careful not to let any of them snap a picture underneath her dress. She smiled and waved, but didn’t stop for pictures. Darren cut through the crowd, leading her to the door. 

The bar and room surrounding it was strangely reminiscent of the hall that held the masquerade ball. This time, thankfully, Lina was sure she was not going to puke on anyone. She was sure to stop Darren from grabbing her bag before she stepped closer to the bar. She wanted a Cosmo. 

“Liiiiinaaaaaa,” a singsong voice called from behind her. Gigi appeared at her side, face flushed. She seemed to be a few drinks in already. Lina was excited to catch up. “We’re gonna be sisters-in-law!”

Lina’s eyes widened at that. “My brother is 14, Gi. That’s a little gross.”

Gigi snorted, limply swatting at her shoulder. “I didn’t even know you had a brother, idiot. I mean that I have my eye,” she used two fingers to gesture at her eyes, “on tall, dark, and handsome.” She pointed at Zayn Malik, who chatted with a couple guys across the room. 

Lina laughed, “Oh, do you?” 

“Yes, I do. And you’re gonna get with the other one, right? Then, we’ll be sisters! Metaphorically, anyway.” Lina didn’t bother dismissing Gigi’s suggestion; she just laughed. “C’mon, c’mon!” 

“My drink---” Gigi pulled Lina across the room before she could finish her protest, not too close to Zayn, but near enough that they could see him. They leaned against the corner of a wall, observing. ��Do you plan to summon him with your mind?”

“No, no, I’m just waiting for my moment,” Gigi whispered. Lina laughed, glancing around the other corner of the wall. There were a few doors lining the walls, but it was otherwise pretty empty. A gasp had her turning her head back to her friend. “He’s walking this way! Go, go, go!” Gigi pushed Lina around the other side of the wall and followed her. “Wait, wait, you can’t be here! Get in there, just for a minute before I get him to come with me somewhere else.” Lina didn’t have a second to say anything before she was shoved into one of the rooms. 

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Lina turned around, taking in the room around her, her eyes catching on the pearly urinals. 

Harry was looking at her, paper towel clasped in his hands as he dried them. He laughed at Lina’s widened eyes. 

“Are you planning to keep your head out of the toilet,” he asked, tossing the paper towel into the bin. “The sink too, I supposed.”

Lina groaned turning to brace herself on the cool, wooden door. “I swear, this was not my idea.”

Harry laughed from behind her. “I should hope not.” He made to move towards the door to leave, but Lina whipped around, placing a hand on his chest.

“We can’t leave,” she whispered. 

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, this isn’t the most sanitary place, and I don’t have a condom but---”

Lina made an ‘ack’ sound before lightly pushing him away from her. “Don’t be weird.” Harry put his hands up in defense. “My friend is out there…with your friend.”

“I’m sure we can come up with a reason other than sex to explain us leaving the bathroom together.”

“Harry, I’m being serious!” Lina said, exasperated. “She pushed me in here because she wants to…talk to your friend.”

“Which friend?”

“Zayn.”

“He doesn’t say much, so that conversation should be over now.” He moved towards the door once again, but Lina grabbed his wrist this time. “She’s pretty drunk, and she’d be pretty pissed if I interrupted her shot. She said she’ll try to get him to go somewhere else as soon as she can.” Harry stifled a laugh. “We can leave soon. Just, I don’t know, be quiet and don’t, like, do anything weird.”

“Me? Do something weird?” he exclaimed, faux defensiveness causing Lina to roll her eyes. “I’m not sure I’m the one to worry about here, woman in the men’s bathroom.”

Lina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Not on purpose.”

“Last time, sure it wasn’t,” Harry said lowly. Lina was keenly aware of her grip that remained on Harry’s wrist. “This time…I think you just wanted to get me alone.” He was closer now, breath fanning her face, alcohol and mint filling her nose. 

“I could get you alone in a less…strange way if I wanted to.” Lina couldn’t look at him, so she examined the holes in her tights. 

“Would you, though?” His voice lowered even more. She wasn’t sure how much lower it could get before it was more of a growl. 

Wow, these tights really were artfully ripped. The perfect place for a tear really is just above the knee. She liked her knees, she supposed, but knees were a little weird overall---

“Carolina.”

“Lina.”

“What?”

“I prefer Lina.”

“Alright, Lina. Wanna answer my question?”

Lina’s breath hitched in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She would not sleep with him tonight, especially not in this bathroom. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about it. She was starting to feel a little warm. 

Harry made to ask her again, but the door banged open, causing the both of them to stumble back and away from one another. Gigi’s eyes widened before she smiled mischievously.

“I am leeeaving, LiLi!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Gi.” She was maybe a little too drunk to go anywhere with any man. 

“No, no, I don’t mean like that,” she giggled. “Zayn said that if I got some rest tonight, he would see me tomorrow.” Lina was a bit surprised at that. “So! I’m leaving!” 

“Why don’t I go with you? Just to be sure you’re alright,” Lina asked, hopeful it would get her  out of answering anymore questions tonight. 

She felt Harry’s eyes on her as Gigi replied, “Oh, sure. Only…” her eyes flitted between the two of them, “If you want to.”

“It’s no problem, really, honey.” Lina felt a little guilty for leaving like this, but really, she was nervous. She’d had a few flings here and there after her rise to fame, but she never had the time to pursue them further. She was a bit rusty, now.

“Alright!” Gigi turned to leave the bathroom as Lina looked in the opposite direction, towards the man behind her.

“I’ll answer your question after dinner, Styles.”

He smiled a small, amused smile. “It’s a date.” 

[thestarfilledsea]

I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ASK I’M REALLY SORRY BUT HERE

ENJOY

(686 words)

Familiar — adjective

well known from long or close association.

Every so often the kid would use his magic and Wukong would be thrown off by how familiar it was.

He couldn’t place it, no matter how hard he thought. But nonetheless each time MK so much as shapeshifted, the luminous pulse of magic that drifted over to the sage made him feel ill with a looming feeling of unease.

So he started having MK hammer at the walls he’d been meaning to knock down. Anything but magic.

He knew this wouldn’t last forever and he knew MK would eventually get impatient but he had no idea that Macaque would be there to take advantage of it.

Since the fight with Macaque. Wukong had been following MK more frequently in an attempt to keep him safe.

What really didn’t scream ‘safe’ however, was the smiling shadow in Wukong’s peripheral vision.

He was perched on a telephone cable watching MK drive home from a shift now very aware of the presence of an old friend.

“So. How’s the training going?”

Macaque smirked from behind him, the shadows twisting and molding into his form.

Wukong said nothing, the only response he gave the shadow monkey was shifting back to his normal form without sparing him so much as a glance.

“Deja vu much?”

Wukong sighed, running his hands through his hair. The dying sunset bathing the two equally in light and shadows

“I’m tired. I don’t have time to dance around what you’re trying to imply.”

Silence. Followed by an annoyed snort from Macaque. “Please. I just thinks it’s weird that your training him of all people.”

Wukong said nothing, standing up from his crouched position overlooking the town with a small stretch.

His arm extended about to summon his cloud when Macaque’s bitter voice quietly interrupted.

“Shame. I guess I underestimated your obsession with that monk. To think centuries later your still holding on to the very thing he leashed you with.”

With that the sage froze. The only movement Macaque could see was a minute twitch of his tail and the sage’s fist tightening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Macaque. There’s a lovely sunset, and I intend to enjoy it so if you don’t mind—“

“Do you not know? Hell even I figured it out and I just met the kid. It’s why I trained him.”

Wukong tilted his head towards Macaque, facing him for the first time that night. His expression confused but he was obviously attempting to veil it with indifference.

“Spit. it. out.”

“That kid is the circlet.”

If Wukong had been holding anything short of his staff in that moment it would’ve splintered.

The only movement between them was the gentle breeze swaying the short marigold blossoms in a nearby window.

“No. No, you know what? Leave. Now.”

“Aww are you just finding out—“

“leave.”

Wukong spat out. The feeling of fire and smoke growing within him reminiscent of the roaring furnace.

He must’ve let some glamours slip or maybe it was the smoke drifting out of his mouth that made Macaque back down.

Macaque doesn’t show fear, but it was there. Wukong knew. Macaque’s expression remained smug but with the flick of his ears and a twitch of the eyebrow he relented. Stepping back, Macaque turned away from Wukong and the days end.

He only looked back once. Met with the sight of Wukong’s flaming gold eyes and red smoke now pouring from his clamped jaw in puffs.

“Have a lovely full moon Sun Wukong.” Macaque hissed before returning to the void.

Wukong hadn’t moved after Macaque left.

The remnants of the sun are all that remains of the meeting.

That and a feeling of dread that gripped the sage. The dread of knowing that for once in his life, Macaque was right.

Wukong stayed on the rooftop that night. Trying to soothe the feeling of fear, fire and smoke that threatened to suffocate him by looking at the night sky above him.

The next morning MK would be greeted with Wukong packing his bags for a ‘vacation.’

[bakugohoex]

“you come here often then?” “well considering i work here, yes”

pairing: satoru gojo x female reader

cw: fluff and language

word count: 2100+

information: the great conjunction collab masterlist by @suna-reversed

a/n: ugh yeah have fun reading this, it’s probably crap because i waffled a bit and made gojo become an idiot

summary: in which gojo can’t help but have an infatuation with you as soon as he sees you through the glass window of a restaurant, now finally meeting you he can’t help but become an unaware teenager in front of you

↞ back to jujutsu kaisen masterlist

Gojo would hate to admit it but seeing the way you swerved past the customers at the restaurant was a dance in his eyes. The way you easily carried three plates on your arms and still had a calm and collected face. Even if he was a powerful jujutsu sorcerer the ability you had to still chat to people even when you were on your knees picking up the glass one of the customers happened to drop infatuated the man.

It wasn’t like he was busy, Yuji, Nobara and Megumi had decided to go out into the city and being the responsible adult he was he tagged along. Even if he had no idea where the three had gone, he had better things to watch as he stared through the window, any person inside would have noticed him. He was almost gawking but the way they either dismissed his wide mouth or genuinely couldn’t see him was an issue they could handle.

He continued watching you speak to the customers, the black blouse hugging your form as you took another order. The restaurant seemed busy, even if it was the lunch rush, the way you easily handled it with that perfect pretty smile. How could Gojo not stare at you, with those bright eyes that filled him with a passion he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe it was stupid to go in, to ask for your number, he was a Jujutsu Sorcerer for one thing but the fact he didn’t even know your name would make it seem creepy.

He stook to watching through the window, occasionally going on his phone to not cause any disruption with his clear blue gaze at your form. He looked up watching how you continued to skim past customers, talk to the customers, even cooing at the babies.

Hearing a loud crash behind him, he turned to be met with the three delinquents, the three-looking confused at why Gojo had been standing all doe eyed. “What’s wrong with him?” Megumi muttered.

“He always looks like that?” Yuji was barely concentrating as some shop nearby had caught his eye.

Nobara understood where he had been looking, could see that he had seen something he wanted. Her eyes went to the restaurant seeing your form taking plates away from an empty table. “He has a crush.” Her voice was loud as the two boys whipped their heads to give a confused look, Nobara pointed through the window as both her and Yuji went straight up to the glass staring right at you.

“Get away from the window.” Gojo spoke, grabbing their collars as he pulled them away from the window. “I don’t have a crush, that’s not my thing.”

“Sure, sure.” Yuji laughed as Gojo was clearly flushed from the way his ears became red and how his voice cracked as he tried to form words.

Megumi rolled his eyes as he spoke out loud, “leave him alone, even if he did have a crush that’s not our business, and it’s not like anybody would go for him.”

Gojo turned to face Megumi with his eyebrows raised, Megumi’s tone had been calm and without any malice but the way Nobara and Yuji laughed at the comment made Gojo roll his eyes. “I liked it when you weren't here.”

They dismissed his comment as they decided to head back home, Gojo gave one more look back through the wide window. The way you move your finger to brush your hair behind your head talked with the customers. You’d just be another woman who he had never gotten the chance to speak to, another woman who probably had a life that didn’t need the disruption of sorcerers and curses.

Turning back around he walked behind them, hands in his pocket as they all hurried back to the Jujutsu High.

It had been a week since he had seen you through the window of the restaurant, the three had been sent on a mission on their own as Gojo had found himself stuck inside after the incidents had occurred. Finding boredom through texting Nanami irritable messages, he got a reply he never expected from the blond, a meeting place for lunch.

It was highly unusual for Nanami to ask for something but whatever the issue was Gojo would be there without a second question. His eyes fixated on the address which sounded so familiar, he didn’t realise where he was until he stared directly at the restaurant. The restaurant you worked out, it had to be a coincidence. It couldn’t be that Nanami knew from Nobara or the others clearly wanted to have a conversation with you.

But just as he walked through the doors, the gold bell ringing, your head beamed from the doors of the kitchen watching to see who it was. The restaurant was empty as the lunch rush had finished and the only one’s left were regulars or the mysterious white-haired man.

He walked straight to one of your tables as he went to the blond, “Y/n, I don’t pay you to talk all day.” The manager said as you rolled your eyes laughing, you shook your head as you grabbed your apron staring at the two men.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” You muttered as he shook his head, even if you brought in a lot of customers and got the highest paid tips he questioned how you had gotten the job in the first place.

You walked straight to the table, a happy smile on your face as you undid your pen and flipped the notepad open. “Hi, I’m Y/n, I’ll be your server today, can I get you any drinks to start off with?”

Gojo eyes stayed fixated on your form as you gave the two men a happy look, “coffee.” Nanami spoke as the two of you turned to face the white-haired man.

“Not…nothing.” You nodded as Gojo had paused at how close you were to him, you stared back at them as you wrote the single drink down.

“And can I get you any starters?”

You barely looked up at them as Nanami spoke out some food items Gojo couldn’t comprehend, after scribbling it down you looked up. “Always the hungry one aren’t we Nanami.”

Gojo’s face fell as he stared at Nanami who rolled his eyes, you giving a chuckle as Nanami rolled his eyes at your antics. “Gojo meet Y/n Y/l/n, Y/n meet Satoru Gojo, she’s a friend and he…”

“Was the guy staring at me last week through the window.” You interrupted as Gojo didn’t look up through his sunglasses, you could see a spec of blue come through and he looked different from last week but still the handsome guy your customers had noticed gawking at you.

“You were doing what?” Nanami questioned as you laughed at the blond staring daggers at his friend.

Gojo leaned back on his chair as he tried to replace his embarrassment with another emotion, “I wasn’t staring.”

“My customers called it gawking.” You laughed once more before beginning the walk back to get the two men food.

Gojo’s eyes stayed fixated on your form as you left to grab the food, Nanami clicking his fingers in front of the man's face. He couldn’t help but stare at your form, how pretty you looked in full view, how you laughed off his clear gawking at you and how he knew you had a pretty name to match your pretty face.

“How do you know her?” Gojo spoke after you had gone into the kitchen, Nanami raising an eyebrow before replying.

“Before I became a Jujutsu Sorcerer again, I met her here and we became friends…I do have friends, Gojo.” He muttered as he stared at the menu and what he wanted to eat.

Gojo didn’t bother staring at the menu as all he wanted to do was become friends with you, he thought you were perfect. The way you laughed was even perfect but most importantly if you could handle Nanami he would be able to get along with you easily.

“She gets people handing her numbers every day, you can’t just give her your number.” Nanami hinted as he did want to see you happy and if it meant a date with Gojo then who was he to judge.

Nanami had only picked this place after you had spoken of the weird white-haired man who had been surrounded by three teenagers wearing blue uniforms. In an instant Nanami knew who you were talking about he couldn’t help but see how Gojo would react to seeing you once again.

You came back with the food as Nanami leant back grabbing the food as he wanted to see how Gojo would ask for your number. Gojo had one thing in his mind, and it was how pretty you looked, he barely even knew you but the urge to get to know you succumbed him.

All he had to ask was for your number, that was ask for your number and he could start something with you. But the words that formed out of his mouth was not what either Nanami or you expected.

“You come here often then?”

You let out a laugh as Gojo couldn’t dare look at you, he felt like a child in front of you and Nanami was enjoying all of it. “Well considering I work here, yes.”

Gojo knew he had lost his chance as you laughed once more before walking away to go to your other tables. “That was unexpected.”

“This is your fault; I would’ve never said it if you hadn’t told me she rejects every guy who asks her out.”

“I never said that.” Nanami spoke nonchalantly as he continued to play with the food.

It seemed like the rest of the lunch was going to be awkward as you hurriedly passed their main meal before going to another table. Nanami spoke of Yuji’s progress as Gojo was barely listening, staring off into the distance. It seemed like he had ruined any chance to ever get to know you, rolling his eyes as the two of them finished their meals.

“If there’s anything else you two need just ask, but i'll bring you the receipt.” You smiled at the two before leaving once more, never to chat or make conversation just making simple cordial comments before hurrying away to grab drinks for another table.

Nanami stood up as he stretched sorting his tie out as he looked at Gojo, “It’s on you.”

He didn’t say anything else as he walked out of the restaurant giving a nod goodbye to you as you had turned to see Gojo on his own. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way Gojo’s mouth had turned downwards in anger as you passed the receipt to him.

He was cute enough and funny from what you had gathered from Nanami. His awkwardness or most likely staleness from not flirting in a while had been cute. You bit your lip questioning if you should do it, but you grabbed your notepad as you wrote down a time and place on it. Slipping it inside you walked over placing it to the side of Gojo as you gave a smile before leaving.

His eyes went down as he opened the booklet, grabbing the receipt and seeing the cost, already cursing out Nanami. Grabbing some cash he slipped it inside before he noticed the note, seeing a time and place, he turned to see you staring at him from the register.

“Really?” He mouthed as you chuckled at him.

Walking closer as you wanted to talk to him properly, “really? I can’t let an attractive guy who can’t help stare at me, walk away from me?”

He chuckled lightly as he leaned back, glasses on the bridge of his nose as you saw his crystal blue eyes. The passion and lust felt through his warm gaze as he smiled at you, “you saying I’m attractive.”

You lean forward having taken Nanami’s seat, “I guess I am.” He leans forward himself, faces a mere inch from each other as you give a light chuckle. Feeling your warm breath fan against his face, “if you’re even a second late then I will get Nanami to beat you up.”

“You wound me.” He laughs as you roll your eyes at his comment, “I would never be late for a pretty girl.”

You give one last smile before standing up with a happy glee, he watches you take the money as he takes the note. He couldn’t help but not stare at your form as he stood outside the window once more, the way you worked with customers with such love for them all. You noticed him staring as you turned to the window smiling once more.

You had acknowledged him and that was all that he had ever wanted since last week. Waving a goodbye, you waved back as he finally walked away from the store. Ready for a whole new world with you at the centre of it.

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[ddarker-dreams]

Contractual Obligations II. Yan Childe x Reader

Warnings: Unwanted physical contact, general yandere themes. Word count: 2.2k. →Part I. 

The sound of heavy, wooden doors shutting behind you feels like a premonition of what is to come. 

Fiddling with your skirt, your eyes dart around, taking in Liyue’s signature rich architecture. Fatui building or not, they still must abide by Liyue’s aesthetic. You thought being surrounded by your home’s design would bring solace. Warm shades of mahogany with gold motifs are illuminated by paper lanterns, giving a glow that would be otherwise pleasant, if not for the circumstances. 

You had anticipated a long wait. Ekaterina, upon hearing your name, informed that you would be seen without delay. The others in the lobby of Northland Bank grumbled at this, much to your embarrassment. It’s no secret that getting appointments here is a time-consuming endeavor. Sailors, business owners, and Qixing’s personal assistants alike had to wait. 

For whatever reason, you were allowed to skip ahead of the queue. The glaring special treatment is bound to spread rumors. Now, here you stand, unable to quell your nerves. This is no different than strolling into a ravenous lion’s den. The vulnerability you feel now makes you wish you were facing a carnivorous beast, at least then you might have hope to defend yourself. 

Even with the unexpected privilege of not waiting in the lobby, you’ve been standing here in this private room for a while now. Thirty minutes is your guess, impatience creeping up on you. Your shoulders slump, a sigh leaving your lips. There’s lots of work to be done when you’re done here, time a precious resource. Wasting it to get answers from the blight on your life is infuriating. 

Figures, the one time you need to speak with Childe, he’s nowhere to be seen. Every other time he’d show up at the least opportune moments. He has a habit of appearing uninvited and ruining what would’ve been a pleasant day. Lost in thought, you consider all that must be done when you return to your parent’s shop, too occupied with your thoughts to notice a looming figure. Two hands go out to cover your eyes, the world suddenly going dark. Heart pounding against your chest, the touch is too unexpected, heat rising in your body as protection.

“Guess who?” Childe hums into your ear with a singsong tone. His scent reminds you of the ocean, fresh and light. 

You frown, noticing how close he is to you, his chest pressed against your back. Does Childe not know what personal space is? “The source of my problems.” 

He lets out a scandalized gasp and slinks in front of you. Childe boasts a lighthearted demeanor, mirth dancing in his eyes, and a tight-lipped smile on his face. Inauthentic as ever, you note. You’ve seen what lays dormant behind the thin veil of boyish charm. The infinite darkness that you never wish to see again. He’s still closer to your person than you’d prefer, but pointing it out won’t do any good, so you decide to overlook it. Picking your battles wisely is vital when speaking with Childe.

“Is that the greeting I get, after rushing all the way here?” Childe sighs. Before you could respond, you notice a new scent in the air, unmistakably leather. It takes you a moment to identify the source. A thin, wispy trail of smoke rises from Childe’s leather gloves that had been touching you just prior. Does that not hurt? Childe catches you staring and laughs. 

“So you didn’t notice,” Childe sounds amused, lifting his hands to inspect them. Raising his hands to his mouth, he bites the tip of his gloves and pulls them off. “Looks like I caught you.” 

He nods to your necklace which is tucked beneath your blouse, scarlet light shining through the fabric. Instinctually, you cover it with your hand, the jewel warm to the touch. Childe’s abrupt physical touch had activated your Vision. It’s only when you take a few deep breaths that the telling glow fades away, but the damage is already done. Did he plan this on purpose? Whatever the case may be, Childe is the last person you want having this information.

Sensing your apprehension, he speaks up. “Relax, I already assumed as much, but my interest is undeniably piqued. Why hide your Vision? This isn’t Inazuma, I was under the impression Visions were revered in Liyue.” 

You don’t owe Childe an explanation, but your intuition tells you he’s not going to let this go anytime soon. This isn’t what you came here for, you remind yourself. Don’t let him distract you.

“It’s a long story,” comes your dismissive answer, glancing around to see if anyone else had seen, even though it’s only you two in here. “Can I talk about what I came here for, please?” 

Childe closes his eyes, humming while considering your proposition. Instead of walking behind the desk in the room, he sits on a bench against the wall, motioning for you to come over. At your blatant hesitation, he decides to pester you, which doesn’t come as a shock. 

“What’s up with that look? There’s plenty of room,” Childe pats the spot next to him for extra emphasis. A dangerous twinkle shines in his eyes with a mischievous smile to match it. “Though, I wouldn’t complain should you come to sit on my lap instead.” 

Your cheeks flush brightly, a weak glare being sent his way which he laughs at. “I would never…” 

“Sure, sure. Come over already, it’s the least you could do, considering you just scorched a pair of my favorite gloves.” Childe’s carefree tone doesn’t match his scolding words, stretching out his arm on the back of where you were supposed to sit. Gingerly stepping over the smoking gloves on the floor, you wonder if it’s somehow a fire hazard, but assume Childe’s Hydro Vision could put it out if need be. You stop just short of sitting down, gnawing on your bottom lip at this new internal dilemma. Glaring daggers at his outstretched arm doesn’t seem to faze him. 

“The offer still stands.” He teases, leading you to huff and take your seat by him. You try to ignore the close physical proximity, but it’s rather difficult, as your thighs are touching. Is this a common theme for Snezhnayans? Why is Childe so needlessly touchy? Maybe you don’t want to know. Childe drums his fingers, staring at you with dangerous intent. 

You’ve wasted enough time here. Hoping to move on to the pressing issue, your lips part without further delay. “So, as I was--”

Childe places a finger to your lips, in an act that leaves you speechless. What is his problem? Furrowing your eyebrows together, you have half a mind to scorch the finger in front of you, but dismiss the thought when remembering his strength. Damn him for getting you riled up with such ease. 

“Uh uh uh,” Childe chastises with a shake of his head. “Not yet. Business can come later. First, you’re going to tell me about that.” 

You don’t need to look down to see he’s pointing at your hidden necklace. “It’s... personal. I have no reason to tell you.” 

“Oh, sweet [First]. I wasn’t asking. You did just burn my gloves, didn’t you? Instead of charging you Mora, which -- no offense -- you don’t have enough of to replace it, I want an explanation. I think that’s a fair deal.” 

So he is going to hold that mishap over you. Messing around with a debt collector and money seems counterintuitive, giving a quick explanation the plausible option. Whatever it takes to get him to drop the sensitive topic. Childe must have a semblance of tact to have made it this far in life after all. 

“Fine, fine. It’s not really that remarkable a reason. I have a younger sister, Chunghua. We used to be inseparable as kids. More than anything, I just wanted her to be happy. You’d do anything to accomplish that, y’know? It was… all my fault, really. She wanted a Vision like mine more than anything -- hair accessories, Mora, pretty outfits -- she never cared for that. 

I had no idea why I was given a Vision and not her. She was the one who prayed to every Archon at night for it, the one who burnt incense and gave offerings, not me. I could see her gradually losing hope every day that she woke up without one, like a piece of her was breaking off. At meals, she’d just… stare, silently, at the Vision around my neck. I don’t blame her for starting to hate me. I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

Taking a deep breath, your eyes fall to your lap. “I only wanted to cheer her up. To see her smile like she used to. When I first got my Vision, Chunghua would ask me to do these little tricks. Forming animals or whatever, stuff kids like. Anyways… I tried doing it again one morning. Needless to say, it didn’t go well, she practically screeched at me. I had no idea that was how she felt. But, yeah. That’s why I hide my Vision. See, not that interesting, right?” 

Childe’s expression feels impossible to read. You’re not sure why you even shared so much, especially with him, but his lack of interruption made you keep going. Maybe you weren’t expecting him to sit perfectly still and listen to every word. Whatever the case, you clear your throat, desperate to clear the gloomy atmosphere. 

“She would’ve reacted the same eventually,” Childe says after a moment of deliberation. You tilt your head, the serious answer was unexpected. “That’s what I think, though only older siblings could understand.”

There’s a brief tenderness in his words that leaves you speechless. If he’s acting, you have to commend his abilities, because right now it almost feels like he’s being genuine. Playing with a strand of your hair, you look past him and clear your throat.

“Yes, well, I suppose you’re right.” 

Childe’s somber appearance twists into a more impish visage. “Why don’t I give Chunghua a talking to? It’s a shame seeing your cute face so sullen.” 

Mortified, you shake your head. “There’s no need for that.” 

“Hmm… a shame. I could really take care of everything if you just let me.” 

“Somehow I doubt that,” you shrug with a frown. “What you could help me with is this ridiculous situation at the shop! Why are there Fatui guards outside the front doors? It’s scaring away customers.” 

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” 

Unbelievable. Childe continues to test your patience at every turn. After your previous conversation outside Liyue, which you’re still hoping was a bad joke, you’d noticed an increased presence of Fatui around the shopping district. That was bad enough for business. Now that they’re stationed right outside your parent’s shop, it’s far worse. Rumors have begun to circulate that you’re somehow involved with the Fatui. This has Childe’s doing written all over it.

“Why else would I be here?” 

He smiles and you immediately regret the rhetorical question. “Because you missed me, of course.” 

“I missed when there weren’t Fatui around the shop. Please, I don’t know what you did, but it’s going to be harder to get money for...” you gulp as if saying it cements the reality of your situation, but power through. “Paying off the loan with this drop in revenue.”

“Tempting as that is, I’m already happy with the results. I got you to come to me and learned more about you. From my position, this is a sizeable gain.” 

Everything from your head to your toes feels hot as if molten lava is stirring inside. He’s not taking you seriously, like the time at the stream and all the times before that. Memories flash in your mind. Your father hunched over letters containing bills, frowning, hair going greyer by the day. Your mother, sneaking out when she thinks you and your sister are asleep to pawn off her old jewelry. Even Chunghua, who offered to take time away from her education to help at the shop. It hits you like a pile of bricks, heart twisting painfully and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“What do I have to do,” Your voice is so low that Childe has to careen his head to hear it. He blinks, incredulous, waiting for further clarification. Each breath you take feels like a losing battle, your composure threatening to shatter. “For you to stop… whatever this is. I’ll do anything. Give anything. Please, just leave my family out of it.” 

Childe crosses his legs and leans in closer to you, arm secured tight around your shoulder.

“Didn’t I tell you already?” 

His breath is warm against you, lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. He presses his lips softly against your pulse. Smiling, he notices how it quickens underneath his touch, all too pleased with your physical reactions. 

“That what I want to take is you.” 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

falling.

pairing: carter baizen x reader

warnings: angst, cheating (sorta?)

part 1 / part 2

and it kills me 'cause i know we've run out of things we can say. what am i now? what am i now? what if i'm someone i don't want around? i'm falling again, i'm falling again, i'm falling. what if i'm down? what if i’m out? what if i'm someone you won't talk about? i'm falling again, i'm falling again, i'm falling and i get the feeling that you'll never need me again ...

Stay away from me. I don’t want to see your face.

Those words were burned and scarred onto his mind and no matter how much he drank, how much he smoked, how much he slept, he could still hear her voice echoing those same words which hit him like daggers. She’d meant those words, he knew her well enough to know when she meant something and she had meant every single letter of every single word she had muttered. He couldn’t escape them and the worse thing was, he couldn’t escape her face. He hadn’t seen her in the last three months but he couldn’t forget the look on her face, the look of disappointment and hurt. He was used to disappointing his family, that’s all he could do but he’d never disappointed her before. She’d been upset at him, he’d been upset at her but they’d never been disappointed at each other. They’d always been there for each other but now she was just gone and he daren’t even try approaching her. He knew her threats weren’t empty and he knew way too well not to mess with Y/N. She was sweet but at the end of the day she was a Vanderbilt heiress and if you got on her bad side, you could easily see it. Yet, that didn’t mean he didn’t miss her.

How could he not when she had been around since the very moment they were introduced for each other? He couldn’t really explain what they were and he didn’t want to dwell on it, he’d rather think to himself that she was gone rather than admit he was the one responsible for it. After all, wasn’t that what he always did? Run away from his problems and avoiding them, instead creating even more issues. It was easier after all. However, what he did not expect was to find her doing the exact same and he couldn’t help but admit how angry he was to see her with someone else. At Cotillion, with Chuck, it was easy to know it was nothing; after all, everyone with a pair of eyes knew all Chuck Bass was interested in was Blair and once Nate was off the picture, the two immediately became a thing. But now? Now he couldn’t convince himself of it, he couldn’t tell himself that she was trying to make him jealous as she stepped into a MET exhibition accompanied by someone whom he didn’t know. A Kennedy, he had heard, and how could Carter compete with a Kennedy? He could not but seeing his Y/N with someone else made his blood boil and his grip tight around the champagne glass. Clearly he had forgotten he was here with someone else as well, yet, that didn’t mattered. What mattered was that his Y/N was with someone else. 

He hadn’t even want to come to this exhibition in the first place, he’d even tried to argue it out with Serena yet it was no use, he was here now and he could see it; he could see them. He could see the man pointing to his Y/N introducing her to everyone in the room as if she didn’t already know them. And that smile, that smile that always got him to do anything she wanted. A smile that was for him no longer yet looked his way and faltered. He downed the cold champagne in his glass, staring back at her before she moved her gaze away, hand wrapped around her date’s arm. Carter shoved the champagne glass on one of the floating silver trays before making his way through the crowd like a wolf hunting its sheep until she reached her. Whomever she was with had left her alone, probably to get some drinks but he didn’t care.

      - We need to talk. 

      - No, we do not. - she grabbed a canape from a passing tray, a habit she had whenever she was uncomfortable at parties. 

      - Can you at least give me that? You ruined my family’s appearances at social events, you made your point. You owe me a talk.

      - That’s rich. - she looked over her shoulder, hoping her date would come and interrupt their interaction. 

      - Please. - his eyes scanned hers for any softness which still laid for him, yet he couldn’t read her eyes. They were hooded and hidden by thick black shadow and dark eyeliner which took away from how watery and bright they usually were, from how happy he remembered them. It’d been a long, long three months and part of him hopped all the care she had once held from him hadn’t died. He still held her in high regard and while he didn’t expect her for even care for him anymore, part of him still hoped she wouldn’t let him bleed out if she found him wounded. However, Y/N was much too smart to let her own emotions take over her in public situations and so she walked away.

Her gown dragged away all her insecurities and all the faltering which still seemed to dance around her whenever he was around, yards and yards of fabric dragged all that was bubbling all the way to her throat and she found herself walking faster and faster to the bathroom. Her hands flew to the porcelain sink, holding herself up as if the weight of all she had ignored for the past three months was pushing her down into the centre of the Earth. Her head snapped up, watching her reflection in the golden mirror; she thought maybe if she could see how pathetic she looked, she would snap out of it. 

     - Y/N. - her grip on the porcelain tightened up as she turned her head to see him against the closed door.

     - I hate you. - she almost barked those words at him, voice filled with poison as if she had wanted to say them a long time ago. His eyes softened, corners looking down, a far cry from how unreadable he always was. - With every fibre of my being, I hate you. 

     - Fine. - he made his way towards her, standing by her side. - I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to hurt you.

     - You humiliated me in front of everyone. - her eyes looked into his for the first time that night, old wounds still not completely wounded. - You kissed me in Santorini when you were with Serena. You are a bad person, Carter. 

     - I know but I wasn’t with her like I was with you.

     - Details of your relationship do not interest me, Carter. If you wanna talk about your relationship, I’d suggest couples therapy. 

     - We weren’t a couple in Santorini, Y/N. Did you seriously think I would’ve done that to you?

     - I don’t know you. - she spewed those words, letting go of the sink and walking backwards, away from him. - I don’t even trust you, Carter.

     - I hope you know I’m not asking for forgiveness from you. I’m just apologising. 

     - I don’t need your apology, I need you away from me. I want you away from me.   

     - You’re spoiled, you know that? - he pointed his finger at her. - Just because the whole world revolves around your family does not mean I’ll stop going places just because you don’t want to see me. You don’t get to decide what I do!

    - For someone who hates this lifestyle, you seem so bothered. - she stood there, not completely happy with the adjective he’d just placed upon her. Y/N Archibald was many things, but spoiled was not one of them. No matter how many riches she had, she did not expect the world to bend to her will.  - Why are you here if you’re just going to criticise me anyway? 

The two of them remained in that match, almost to see which one of them could hurt the one the most, as if hurting each other would somehow make the fact they weren’t together hurt any less. The truth was, both of them were stubborn individuals and while Y/N had been the most forgiving of the two, seeing the man she had always hoped would someday be hers with someone else had almost erased all of that. Maybe she was spoiled for expecting him to someday magically want her by his side but he was spoiled too. They were two flawed human beings staring each other, waiting to see which one would break apart first until he realised one thing; he did not want to see her break apart. He was bitter, angry at her even but deep down he knew there was no one to be angry at but himself. He had caused this and he was lashing out at her, hoping that by hurting her, he’d feel better about her hating him so much. However, he did not want to hurt her. At least no more than he’d already done, either willingly or unwillingly. 

    - You win. - he lowered down his hands in defeat. Y/N, however remained still yet if one were to touch her arm, they could feel she was trembling. - I can’t fight with you any longer.

He almost left her there standing, not sure of what to say. He really was going to leave, he was going to disappear for a while yet his decision faltered as his eyes almost too quickly scanned her, noticing the thin gold bracelet around her wrist. He had given her that bracelet, something he’d got from one of his first travels to Europe. It was nothing too special, in all honesty, compared to what she was wearing, it was probably the cheapest thing she had on her person but he remembered that bracelet way too well. He remembered giving her the small little bag, her little argument about how he shouldn’t have gotten something for her, how she promised she’d never take it off. She still had it, she still wore it. 

     - You’re wearing the bracelet I gave you. - he pointed towards her wrist and she immediately covered it, looking at it for a bit before looking up at him.

     - Fine. - her voice almost broke as she tried to undo the clasp.

     - Don’t. - his voice however broke down as she found the clasp. - You promised. 

Her aura softened, shoulders lowering to a neutral position as her hand unwrapped from her wrist, her eyes gazing the shiny gold metal before she looked up and at him. Whatever fire her anger had ignited within her went down, washed away like the waves onto the sand and for the first time she moved forward until she was close enough to feel his breathe on her face. Her eyes heightened up to his, lips half parted as her hands cupped his face, the same face she had seen grow older over these years yet remain the same blue eyes which were so typically his. Her finger grazed his cheekbone, the mere action making him nuzzle his face against her warm. She always had warm hands and the both of them no longer wanted to fight. She was tired and Carter was deadly afraid of not ever talking to her again, he could not lose her. He did not want to lose her. 

There was no sound, not even the soft music outside seemed to break the silence, all that was around was their breathing, soft and slow. Her eyes moved from his to his lips, pink tinted, tainted with the taste of champagne which she could smell from his breathe. Soft emotion filled eyes looked his for a second before she moved closer, closing the distance between them. Her hands moved from his chest to rest against his chest as she tasted the champagne on his lips. His hands held her waist flush to him, before he two broke off the kiss, foreheads leaned against each other.

    - Don’t leave.

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 09 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 5.5k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Moonlight bellows in the background of the warm, golden-lit room—crashing and seceding, crashing and seceding, repeatedly colliding against the jagged rocks by the cliff like tidal waves out at sea in the deep sway of the black night. Under the hypnosis of the jet-black skies absent of the charming twinkling of the stars, you had somehow stumbled through the retreat to your room. You aren’t exactly sure what you had seen—and perhaps, out of consideration for your well-being, you simply don’t want to nor need to comprehend your sightings—but the glutinous image of the broken boy sticks to your chest akin to a dark secret weighing heavy on a sinner’s heart.

And somehow, amidst the long night looming ahead of you, the spur of emotions sweeps you before the door of his room.

Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat and whisper hesitantly next to the wooden frame, “...Hoseok?”

In the red-carpeted hall where dozens of fellow camp attendees rest until the next sunrise, you stand there wondering if Jimin had mistyped the captain’s room number on the emergency flyers. The overwhelming guilt of having pushed Hoseok to his breaking point, albeit unknowingly, had forced the heavy footsteps of yours to this very spot, but now that you’re faced with silence as an answer, you figure perhaps it isn’t in your fate to confront him tonight; it would be the easier way out, at least, for irrationality had bewitched you and plans on what to even say were the last things on your mind… until now.

Subconsciously, your knuckles meet the cold wax finish of his door once again.

One knock, two knocks, and alas, a sigh.

Your hands drop to your sides in defeat, despite regretting your rash decision which had brought you here in the first place. You glimpse around to ensure that the coast was clear, and when the last sigh escapes your lips and the balls of your feet pivot to your left, only then does the door swing wide open.

“What do you want?”

Whirling around, you find Hoseok standing aside where one arm leans against the door frame and the other hides behind the door, clutching the gold handle. As you gaze at him in silence, too taken aback to make your next move, Hoseok stands there, heavy-lidded and jaws clenched, disgruntled by your late night appearance.

The uninviting glare of his elicits the uncomfortable shift in place of your footsteps. It’s a rare moment for goosebumps to rise and chest to constrict when in the presence of someone as playful and flirtatious as Hoseok, but the sudden cold mien of his persona now conveys to you that you’re not welcome here tonight.

“I… I was just…” your eyes dart to the floor as your mind crashes into auto-pilot, searching for any form of excuse other than the truth too unready to be exposed, “I couldn’t fall asleep. So—”

“—you could’ve texted me,” he refutes, brows furrowing, but all your eyes are fixated on are what appears to be beads of sweat dripping from his damp bangs. And when he notices the softening of your wandering eyes, his voice nearly drowns in the waves of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the buzz of the vending machine which shrills in your eardrums to this very second.

From the tee which drapes his upper body and his sweatpants which masks the witnessed scene weighing heavy in your heart, everything about him now would serve as the perfect facade of a normal captain disturbed from his sleep. But at least he's still up, at least he's still trying, at least he answered your call.

You want to believe he’s okay again, that everything you had seen was just a misunderstanding, but something tells you the sun won't be rising again after tonight, and that very thought plagues you of your sleep.

A few seconds pass as you scan him over in a confusing mixture of both disbelief and relief, when Hoseok half scoffs and half chuckles, frowning at your expression, “is something bothering you? You look like you're almost glad to see me for once.”

“...why are you sweating?” you blurt, his words completely missing you as your eyes fixates on the beads of liquid plastered across his temples and trapped in his brows.

“Sweat…?” Hoseok arches a concerned brow before pressing his lips into a thin line. “This isn't sweat… I just got out of the shower. What makes you think that, though?”

Your lips part, but silence ensues when you realize neither you nor him seemed prepared enough to tackle the true reason as to why you're here.

“Nothing… really. It was just the first thing which came to mind.”

Hoseok nods, eyelids weighing heavier and heavier as the conversation comes to an abrupt end. “So…” he drawls, “what do you need?”

“I didn't need anything, per se,” you emphasize, eyes averting to the side and away from his watchful gaze, “I just… wanted to talk. I didn't get to talk to you much today.”

Usually, at a point like this, Hoseok would tease you; “someone's a bit needy today, and I know you're pure and untainted and all, but shouldn't you at least know not to come begging for attention to a guy's room at midnight”—is what he would've said, but tonight, the tidal waves under the wavering moon dictates otherwise.

“Look, Y/N,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans his entire weight against the doorframe, “I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. I want to be alone.”

But does he? Because the gleam in his softened eyes, the windows to his soul, are begging you to accompany him through the long night.

“Are you… okay, Hoseok?” you ask, brows cinching in concern.

He flinches, but his brows immediately lift to mask the initial response. “...yeah,” he finally says after a long pause, taking a deep breath and sighing, eyes never budging from yours, “...I'm fine. Now go sleep if you're done badgering me.”

“Okay… you should sleep, too.”

“Yeah,” he utters under his breath, eyes glued to the ground as he mumbles, “I'll try.”

“Try…?”

“I have a lot of things on my mind and decisions to make tonight,” he explains with a final sigh, the void in his eyes lifting to meet yours once again, and you don't notice until now the purple-blue dark circles which only emphasizes the absence of his usual vigor. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

And ever so quietly, as if none of the conversation had taken place under the mist of the night perched high up on the mountains, the door closes on you, and the walls between you and Hoseok become thicker than ever.

You can't tell what's on his mind. You can't even tell what's on your own mind. All you can convey is the sheer dejection, the unusual lethargy radiating from Hoseok akin to a captain too prideful to allow his pupils to witness his own cracks and falls.

You're partially responsible for this—no, somehow your mind had convinced you that you're the one completely responsible for this. If you hadn't pushed him to return, maybe things wouldn't have gotten this far. You had reopened a wound like ripping stitches off a gash still in the process of rehabilitation.

And sometimes, wounds of seconds can inflict more pain than its first and leave deeper scars than the past itself.

You're guilty as charged, and you want to fix things now, but the unwelcoming tone of tonight's conversation tells you it might just be too late. If you've acknowledged your mistakes but the other is unwilling to receive your sympathy, what else are you supposed to do?

You had hated the new Hoseok for laying the death of the old, but now that you stand here before his guarded walls and closed door, maybe things would've been better the way they were before.

But that thought finds you as ridiculous, and the very fact that a part of you still wants to aid him in rediscovering your first love at the expense of the person he is now, finds you even more horrendous.

For now, a shower is the only concoction for such a plague.

-

Water beads drip from the ends of your hair to the cottons of the white towel hanging from your neck. A rush of goosebump inducing air envelops you the second your right foot meets the carpet beyond the bathroom tiles. Besides the remaining drip drops of the water draining in the bathtub behind you, all that is left in the sanctuary of your room is what should have been silence.

Because you can still hear the buzz of the vending machine, the familiar squeaks of sneakers, and worst of all, his wincing breaths endowed with despair still echo in the back of your mind—gradually quickening and crescendoing into a chaos of a symphony without its conductor until everything collapses, the squeaks and the huffs replaced by the ominous buzz of the machine.

As you run through your hair and turn your back on the door to further bury yourself in the depths of your sanctuary, a sudden rise of events interrupts the temporary serenity with the strike of fear into your racing heart.

A series of slurred knocks—two loud, quick knocks followed by one hesitant bump of the knuckles—elicits a ring in your ear as you cautiously turn on the balls of your feet to face the door head on.

The numbers 1:15 A.M. blink in red digital font from the desk beside your bed.

Who could possibly be visiting you at this time of the night?

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice strained with lethargy finally announces after a sigh, and as if reciting words to a spell of witch craft, your heart stills and your body freezes… because did you really just hear Hoseok? Outside your room? The one who had just turned you away without a blink of the eye?

Even with the mess of your mental state after finally digging up the answer you had been searching for all along, the only and greatest fear which plagues you now is the thought of whether the victim, Jung Hoseok, had somehow caught onto you preying upon his darkest of secrets.

After half a minute of silence, Hoseok sighs once again with a groan, “I’m not here to mess around with you if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m on duty for patrolling tonight, and I noticed your light was on. Now open up, would you?”

The walk to your door seems to take you centuries, because the second your hand pushes the handle even an inch down, the door swings wide open to reveal the rather irritated, profusely impatient boy standing on the other side.

“Could you be any slower?” he remarks, eyes peering down at you, unamused. “You’re even slower than me and I worked out more than…”

His white tee shifts underneath his crossed arms as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. The intensity of his eyes with bags and dark circles drooping below elicits a shift in your own body of discomfort. Your own eyes retreat to the ground when his brows cinch and you can tell he’s scanning you over, just seconds away from catching you red-handed.

“...w-what? Can you  stop staring at me like that?” 

“What? I’m not checking you out or anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” Hoseok scoffs for a fleeting second before silence befalls his lips—and suddenly, the warmth of his hands radiate from your cheeks. A lock of your hair lies in the palms of his long, delicate fingers just barely grazing your cheeks, and it doesn’t take you very long to hastily cover your reddening ears and cheeks with your dampened towel. He frowns, not at your sheepish behavior, but for the wet strands of hair which are all that he fixates on, “did you just work out or something?”

Shouldn't you be the one asking him that? It's as if the irony of his actions is his own method of begging to be exposed without having to come out and ask for it himself.

“No,” you retort, scrunching your face at the absurdity of his suggestion.

Just as you’re about to pull away from his touch, Hoseok retracts his hands from the proximity of your cheeks before what would usually be another one of his mischievous acts; and as much as his sneaky pecks and meaningless affection had once infuriated you, it’s hard to admit how empty you now feel in the absence of its wake. His retreat made of his own will is a first for you.

“Then why are you showering at 1 A.M. in the morning?” he cocks his head with a raised brow.

“Says you—”

“—but at least I have an excuse. I was busy cleaning up after practice,” he retorts and shifts his weight to his other leg, musing, “you, on the other hand…”

“B-Because…” you cross your arms and shoot him the most annoyed glare you could muster; while meeting and comforting him were all that shrouded your mind just a few minutes ago, seeing him in a completely fine state like this is enough to put you to peace and shoo him away for now. “...I slept through the entire day and forgot to shower.”

“...okay,” his lips pressed into a frown gradually bursts into a large grin plastered with second hand embarrassment. “While you kept nagging at me to ‘attend dance camp’ and pick up dancing again, which I so dutifully obliged to tonight, you hide yourself in the corner of your room and sleep the day away?”

“Oh, shut up. It's not like I'm an actual dancer like you—” you roll your eyes before stopping mid-sentence; was that too insensitive of you to say considering the struggles Hoseok seemed to be going through? Clearing your throat, you lift your head high and sigh, “so what’re you doing here? I thought you were busy thinking the night away.”

“Like I said, I'm on patrol tonight. Are you even listening to me or are you to busy fantasizing about all the things we could've been doing in my room right now?” he teases and gently knocks his knuckles on your head.

His entire demeanor had reverted to his usual self, and as concerning as it is to wonder whether this is all an act too painful to witness yourself, you're glad to see him joking around again, even if it's forced.

“No, that's the last thing on my mind, but I guess it's not the same case for someone here,” you roll your eyes.

In retaliation to your indifferent attitude, Hoseok leans against the doorframe with a scoff, pulling you back in as you pushed him out. “Like I said, Ms. I Like To Break Rules Because I’m Dating the Captain, you’re supposed to be asleep by now.”

“I’ll turn off my lights after I blow dry my hair, Mr. Ex Dance Captain—” you bite your tongue when you notice the twitch in his darkened eyes and hardened jaw “—I mean, I'm not dating you.”

At this point, you’re not even sure how to address his relationship with dance, if you should even do so at all.

“So, if you’ll excuse me,” you continue, giving him one last pressed smile and stepping back to close the door; but before you could do so, Hoseok swiftly juts a foot out to interevene, and a simple question ensues.

“What? You don’t want me here?”

All efforts to protest dissipate when he turns his head to face you and lets out a scoff in disbelief, eyes completely empty, and you nearly have to lean in to catch his next words.

“You’re always so cold to me,” he lets out a soft laugh and cracks the most reluctant of grins. “Why do I even bother being disappointed at this point?”

A few seconds of tense silence goes by before it occurs to you what he had just said.

For once, he actually cares about what you say? He’s taking your meaningless banters to heart?

“I’m turning off my lights now,” you frown at him, but his attention remains elsewhere, “isn’t that what you came here to do?”

“You really...” he scoffs and lifts his head, eyes piercing yours and opening the window to his souls; shaky, colorless, lost and infuriated by the calamity of the world before him, in the world you present him. “...do you really think I came here just for that? I could care less what time you sleep.”

“O-Okay…” you stutter; you know there isn’t anything to be hurt over, because what he’s saying has made you believe is of the utmost truth, but the unusually blunt implications of his disingenuity comes on all too harsh.

His constant switch in demeanor is all too confusing to keep up with tonight, and quite frankly, you don't know how to read him anymore, as if you ever could.

His lips part, words of apology ready to be uttered, and his eyes soften in worry for a swift second, but when the clock ticks twice, his jaw hardens the invisible wall built between the two of you.

And for the first time in a while, he’s actually acting like the infamous reputation he had been endowed; because he doesn’t apologize, and now your guts begin to twist and turn, wondering whether you had done something wrong.

Was he in a bad mood because of what you had seen just half an hour before? Should you confront him about it? Should you comfort him? Would words of encouragement even help? Is that what he’s asking for?

Is that the true reason as to why he’s here? Is he… asking for help?

“I’m here to check up on your ankle.”

His mumbling interrupts the internal war fared between two hidden motivations; defeat is all that reigns in the realm of tonight—you, unable to decipher his code, and him, unable to send you such codes.

The mention of your momentarily forgotten injury brings a crease between your brows, “my ankles are fine.”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is for me, your highness,” he refutes with a pressed, unamused smile.

“But it really is fine—” you stop mid-sentence when you notice Hoseok taking a deep breath, chest struggling to rise while constricting the impatience and whatever else remains buried from within.

Please let me in, his eyes scream.

Your feet stumbles as they shuffle backwards, and in response, he takes one swift, large stride forward. The door shuts behind him, and suddenly, the room seems significantly more lackluster than before.

“What if someone sees us?” your fear translates into words.

“Should’ve worried about that earlier, don’t you think?” he flatly remarks, cocking his head to the side.

“...but,” you frown and shake your head, “what if they spread rumors about you entering my room?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes before returning the look of impertinence to you, “haven’t they already spread rumors about us? We literally made out at the pool last night. And who cares what they say? I’m tired of giving a shit about them. All it does is burden you.”

“Burden…” your mind subconsciously slips the words into formation when your eyes naturally trail from his gray sweatpants and up to his white tee where beads of water drip from his drenched bangs. “...hey, Hoseok, why haven't you dried your hair yet?”

He couldn't have possibly went out to practice again, could he?

“My hair…?” his brows cinch as his hands find their way to twirl the wet locks in between his fingers and his eyes light up before settling into a frown once again. “Ah… but first, why are you so concerned for me tonight?”

“Maybe because I was kind enough to let you in my room and that's the least you could do…?”

“But I’m the captain. I’m the one in charge,” he quickly quips. You can see the tip of his tongue running across the inner walls of his mouth from the protrusion of his cheeks and his hardened jaw, as if preparing for a fight. “So, technically, I do have the rights to be here, because you broke the rules. If you don’t want to see me, maybe you should turn off your lights next time.”

His sudden defense rubs you the wrong way when you scoff, “captain? Huh, funny, because I seem to recall a certain someone getting all pissed off at me because I begged them to come here in the first place.”

“What?” he asks in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at you.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. Why are you being so aggravated today? Are you scared to tell me the truth? That you’re playing around and checking in on me to pretend and act like you’ve been up hard at work all day? So you can continue playing around with me without having to hear me nag at you?”

You just want him to be honest with himself, and more so with you, and maybe you aren’t approaching it the right way, but you simply don’t understand how to fix the dent in Hoseok’s enclosed heart.

“What?” he repeats, the fury in his boiling blood exuding from his step forward and your step back. “I’m doing my job here, aren’t I? I’m guiding us through the camp, I’m teaching you guys how to dance, I’m even out here past midnight patrolling as a captain should! So how am I anything but a captain?”

Buzz, sneakers, collision, and buzz—the entire sequence washes onto shore once again from the back of your mind, blaring at you as if to tell you to back down.

He continues to take steps forward, forcing you to retreat backwards into the depths of your room.

“I didn't mean it like that…” you mumble, taking another step back until your heels hit the drawer and the back of your head bumps into the TV behind you.

Hoseok steps one intimidating stride forward, arms gripping at the drawer on either side of you and entrapping you in his field of control. He gives you one long, hard stare, and as uncomfortable as it is, something tells you there would be serious repercussions if you looked away.

“No, but it sure does feel like it and it confuses me,” he retorts lowly, “so tell me, Y/N, why are you so concerned for me all of a sudden?”

His watchful eyes and parted lips pray for the hopes that you had seen him, that he had finally found someone who knew the true him, but you don't want to and you can't possibly reopen his wound. You know it would hurt him all too much.

So you keep silent, just as he has all along

“...you’ll wake them if you yell any louder,” you mumble, looking off to the side in dejection.

But his warm hands cup the cold surface of your chin damp from your shower, turning you until your gaze has returned to meet his.

“Stop making excuses. You know they can't hear us,” he lowly utters. “What did you even think I was doing anyways?”

“I-I don't know. I was just asking what you’ve been doing. It’s not that hard of a question,” you mumble. “You can lie to me, even, if you want.”

“No,” he shakes his head, keeping his fingertips grazing against your chin. “I want to hear your guesses.”

You gulp, diverting from his piercing gaze, “I don't know…”

“You seemed to have a pretty good guess just a minute ago,” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just say it. I dare you to.”

I dare you to say it, but I doubt you can, because I doubt you even know, his leer screams.

“...maybe you had a girl over in your room or something…”

You know that's not the case, or at least you hope, but that's the most believable guess you could muster other than outright accusing him of his late night practices sessions.

“You think that I'd let another girl other than you into my room? Who do you take me for?” he scoffs, even chuckles. “Ah, you're too cute.”

He doesn't mean it, you tell yourself, you can't believe him and you can't fall for this specific trick because you know that's exactly what he wants to distract you from the pain hidden beneath that flirtatious crooked smile of his.

You frown, “quit playing and let me go...”

“Just one more question,” he laughs for a brief second, silence failing for a tense minute before finally asking in the lowest of voices, “can I kiss you?”

“W-What?”

“I mean, last time I was so congested and upset with these dark thoughts of mine that I forgot to even ask you for permission before I forced myself on you. Two elements of a great kiss are consent and surprise, remember? I think I got the surprise part down judging by the look on your face,” he smirks, but all you can do is stare at him in silence.

It's not like you're opposed to the idea of kissing him, per se, but you're against sharing such an intimate moment when you know he would just be using you like alcohol as a way to temporarily numb the pain.

But should you go ahead and let him? If something as trifling as this could even relieve him of the pain, should you give him what he wants?

“Are you… lonely? Are you upset over something? Can't I help you?”

Several seconds of silence passes by until you hear him chortle with a sigh, his arms dripping from your sides and releasing you from his grasp as he brushes by your shoulder and heads toward your bed. “I was just joking around with you. Don't look at me like that, it hurts me too, you know? I didn’t come here to argue anyways, ” he remarks, lightening up the mood. “I just forgot to dry my hair, that’s all. Do you have any snacks in your fridge?”

Nonchalantly, Hoseok plops onto your mattress without further permission, but all you could notice is the slight limping in his walk; if anyone else had watched his strides, including you from the past, no one would have suspected a thing, but now that you’ve discovered his secret, the uneven footsteps of his are all too glaring.

With his head against his hand propped by an elbow against one of your two pillows, Hoseok grins at you with an arched brow and a hand tapping on the sweatpants concealing the swelling of his leg.

“...no,” you finally answer, walking a few steps forward into the room to lean against the corner wall next to the lower side of your bed. You cross your arms and continue, “why would I bring food for a three night trip?”

“Ah, I forgot this is only for three nights. I see,” he nods, pursing his lips and turning to lie on his back with his head nestled into your pillow. The fingers of one of his hands drum against his stomach as the other props above his shoulders and under his neck.

The buzzing of your empty fridge stimulates you to memories you don’t want to revisit, but the overwhelming silence seems to be the motif of tonight and you just don’t know how to fix it; yet the longer he stares emptily into the ceiling above, the more curious you become.

“Hoseok?”

“Hm?” he hums without budging his eyes from the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about?”

A few seconds pass by before he takes a deep breath and sighs loudly, his chest noticeably rising and sinking underneath his water-drenched tee.

“Truthfully, I actually came here after you left because I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone tonight. I was wrong to shut you out,” he confesses; but when you’re left staring at him in utter, shock, Hoseok finally breaks his gaze from the ceiling to meet your gaping expression with a chuckle. “It’s a joke, Y/N. I’m a lonely person, just like you said, remember?”

“Being lonely isn’t a joke…” you grumble, uncrossing your arms and walking over to gently seat yourself beside him in bed.

You’re expecting some teasing remark for supposedly joining him in bed, but what you don’t expect is what slips from his lips instead.

“Have you ever wanted something so bad that it’s all you come to know, but the second you get it, it turns out to be the only thing you can’t have? It just… it doesn’t love you back. I’m the only one trying at this point.”

“Like what…?” you hesitantly ask.

“Like you,” he swiftly answers, turning his head to shoot you a lopsided grin.

Everything comes crashing down into a full circle once it finally clicked for you: dance; dance is the unrequited love for Hoseok, and you were just one of the many replacements to allow him to forget what he had lost.

The thought irks you the wrong way, and as much as you want to console him, the teasing relationship you two have established does not exactly authorize for such a moment.

“But you never got me in the first place,” you snort.

Hoseok blinks blankly at your words before scoffing in disbelief, turning his head and smirking with the shake of his head, “go dry your hair before you get sick, you cold-hearted woman.”

“No, I can’t leave you unattended in my bed!”

“I won’t stay here overnight, alright,” Hoseok rolls his eyes while cracking a smile. “So stop worrying and go or you’ll get a cold.”

“Psh, fine,” you huff, getting up from your bed; but before you could depart to the bathroom, Hoseok’s hands grip onto your hands only to pull you back into bed beside him. You sigh, turning your back to glare at the blank look on his face, “do you want me to stay or not?”

“Y/N,” he ignores you and proceeds with his question, looking you straight in the eye, “what would you do if I said I still wanted to quit dance? If I said this entire trip only reminded me of why I hated it so much in the first place? What would you do?”

Your eyes grow wide; he’s practically asking you upfront about his inner true conundrums, and this time, you’re going to make things right again.

“I would support you no matter what. If dancing isn’t what you want, then I’m fine with it,” you answer. “I kissed you so you would come to camp. That’s all I bargained for, and that’s all I’m asking for.”

Hoseok stares at you for several seconds in silence before scoffing and tossing your hand to the side, “I came here for an answer, but now you’re just confusing me.”

“What?”

“Go dry your hair already. Your hands are cold,” he states, turning his head away from you. “I won’t be able to kiss you anymore if you get sick.”

Glaring at him from his back, you oblige to his demands and retreat to the safety of your washroom. While drying your hair, you spend all your time scrambling for something to say, to fill in the conversation, to keep you from the pounding white noise of sneakers and buzz, but most importantly, to keep him from the ill reminder of his downfall.

Yet, all is in vain, when you return to your room to find him asleep.

Sighing, you tiptoe your way to lie down in the bed right beside him. With your head cupped in your hands propped on the mattress by your elbow, you lean just a bit forward to catch a glimpse of his dozing expression. Only in his slumber is he relinquished of all worries. The crease between his brows has vanished, and the frown he had constantly worn in the corner of his lips had dissipated along with it. Finally, he is at peace and solace.

“You see, Hoseok, the thing about life is that it constantly challenges us to new obstacles… kind of like what you’re doing to me right now,” you chuckle to yourself and brush the fallen streaks of hair off his forehead and to his temples, “but you’re strong enough to overcome it, and as long as you have someone beside you the entire time, everything will turn out just right. You are loved, you just don’t know it.”

And with that, you lean in to place a chaste kiss on his forehead.

It’s the first time he ever failed to smirk after a kiss shared between the two of you.

With the official set of the sun ironically at the rise of dawn, an epiphany strikes you at 2 AM in the depths of your room where Hoseok lies asleep beside you.

Some secrets are meant to be kept hidden, some wounds are never meant to be revived; and so, instead of hurting and turning him away, you’ve agreed to be his sanctuary for just tonight.

Jimin [2:23 A.M.] Hoseok? No... he’s not supposed to be on patrol. I am.

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Eight: Distractions

Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Nine

@aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas  If you’d like to be tagged, just let me know :) 

Aelin tried to busy herself in the coming days. She would wake just as the sun bathed the palace in its soft glow; when the world was still and all was quiet. She would leave her rooms, and would run for miles, until her lungs were burning and her legs sore. She would bathe and eat breakfast in her room, usually on her own, but sometimes with Aedion or Lysandra. No one mentioned Rowan or their curiosity to what had happened. 

Aelin had not gone back to training with her magic, something always feeling off, like she was missing a piece of herself— it wasn’t hard to figure out what that could be— nonetheless she avoided using it. 

The days meandered on, passing by with little excitement. Her afternoons were spent looking after the other Whitethorn family members or joining Orlon in meetings. Aelin found the monotony of meetings kept her mind from wandering too far into itself— they kept her from thinking of the gaping hole that was left in the absence of Rowan. 

It had been nine days since his departure and she couldn’t deny the ache in her chest. She still did not know the real reason for his leaving. Endymion had said it was urgent business, but wouldn’t state what business, and Sellene wouldn’t even see Aelin alone, only acknowledging her existence at dinners or to deliver glum looks in passing. So Aelin tried to forget, giving herself no time or opportunity to sulk over Rowan or Sam. 

The weekend proved difficult when she couldn’t busy herself with court dealings, but she found solace in Lysandra and their rides through the mountains. Which is where she found herself, bundled up in fur and leathers, teeth trembling at the bitterly cold wind that was blowing against the two of them as they made their way up the steep mountain path. 

“Tell me again why this was a good idea?” Lysandra said. Her voice muffled by the maroon scarf she had wrapped up to her nose. 

“It’s good to get fresh air. Plus the sunsets are beautiful from up here at this time of year.” Aelin could feel her toes going numb, she’d already lost the feeling in the tips of her fingers. 

Lysandra let out a huff, her sandy horse doing the same. “I could’ve been curled up by the fire devouring the almond tart that Aedion got me.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes. She would never admit it to Lysandra, but she too, wanted to be bundled by the crackling fire with a good book and a hot cup of tea. She would never admit it though. 

“It’s only a few minutes longer, Lys.” She could already see the final curve in the road that led to a ruined temple; abandoned hundreds of years ago, but still in good enough condition to go in and watch the sun as it would flood the inside with a golden glow. She imagined the temple was built there for that specific reason. 

“Is there a reason you’re not heating us both up with your fire? I could really do with that right about now.” 

Lysandra was right of course, but Aelin hadn’t touched her magic, and every time she went to use it, she froze, her magic nowhere to be seen. “We’re building character. It’s good for us.” 

“I have plenty of character already.” Lysandra pulled the scarf up higher, her emerald eyes squinting. “Please tell me that’s the top.” 

The temple was in front of them now, the grey stone crumbling in places, ivy and plants swallowing the walls in their green claws; winding their way into the cracks and crevices. 

“This place is so creepy.” Lysandra hopped of her horse, inspecting their surroundings. “I hate it.” 

“Stop being such a baby. There’s literally nothing here Lys.” Aelin followed suit, jumping from her own horse and following Lysandra inside. 

The ceilings were high, a huge dome rose above them as they entered the central part of the temple. The floors were once white marble, the walls covered in markings that had become indistinguishable. Tall pillars of stone circled the outer edge of the room, plants curling around them. Aelin could almost imagine the beauty that this once would have been. Towards the other side of the room a tall window stood, the view looking over the meadows and forests that eventually turned into the sparkling waters of the sea. The sun had started sinking into the horizon and Aelin lent on the ledge of the window, basking in the last rays, watching as the sky changed colours. 

“Okay, so maybe it was worth it.” Lysandra had come to lean next to her, her friend staring out to the world beyond. The two of them silent as they watched the sun sink lower and lower, disappearing for another day. Lysandra broke the silence first. “I have something to tell you.”

Aelin looked to her, curious. 

“I slept with Aedion.” Aelin didn’t reply as Lysandra continued. “We had been into Orynth to go dancing with a few friends. I had planned on leaving earlier, but they all convinced me to stay… so I did.” Lysandra sighed. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. But we were the last to leave, and he walked me to my room and I invited him in; and… you know.” 

Aelin mulled it over. “You know you could’ve told me sooner. You went dancing last week.” 

Lysandra shrugged. “You were preoccupied with Rowan and Sam,” she flinched at the names, but Lysandra continued. “I didn’t want you to think my problems were more important.” 

Aelin couldn’t help but let the guilt rise up. “Your problems are just as important!” She faced Lysandra. “I don’t care if my life is a shit-show right now. I will always have time to listen to you. Always.” 

Lysandra smiled. “I know, but I’m pretty sure your problems trump mine anyway” 

Aelin huffed. “I would much rather not talk about my problems.” She turned back to the sunset. “Have you spoken to Aedion?” 

“We haven’t spoken about what happened, if that’s what you mean. But we’ve talked, yes.” Lysandra twirled a strand of hair. “I don’t think he wants to scare me off. I think he’s worried I regret what happened.” 

“And do you?” Aelin asked. 

“Yes. No… I don’t know.” Lysandra pushed off the window ledge and leant back against the wall. “Everything is so complicated with us. He’s been chasing me for so long… and I’ve finally given in; and now I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” She looked at Aelin. “Does he want it to be casual? Does he want to be in a relationship?” 

Aelin let out a laugh. “Lys, he literally told you he would marry you one day. I think it’s pretty obvious what he wants.”

She groaned in response. “That doesn’t help! He might have been joking!” 

“Gods above. He is in love with you Lysandra! I think he has been from the moment you tried to fight me when we were twelve.” 

Lysandra smiled at the memory. “I would’ve won if it hadn’t been for your father interrupting.” 

Aelin chuckled, Lysandra had been a force to be reckoned with when she was younger. 

The two remained silent for a while longer, dusk falling over the landscape. 

“Have you heard from Rowan?” 

“No.”

“He’ll come around. You’re mates, he won’t be able to stay away for long.” 

Aelin wasn’t so sure about that. “I really messed up. Like catastrophically.” 

“It can’t have been that bad.” 

“I was practically crawling after Sam, bawling my eyes out, begging him not to leave.” She started to pace. “Rowan just stood there, he just watched as I begged for another man. And when he tried to offer some comfort, I refused. I turned down my own mate because— because…” she didn’t know. Pride? Embarrassment? Stubbornness?

“Sam meant a lot to you, and you didn’t want him finding out about Rowan that way.” Lysandra thought for a moment. “Life is messy and unpredictable; and so maybe this didn’t go exactly the way you planned it. But you’re still here, you still have a family that adore you, friends that would do practically anything for you. You just have to give Rowan time, give Sam time. They’ll both understand eventually.” 

“I hope you’re right.” 

“Of course I am.” She smiled. “You know what? I think with everything that has happened we need a night in the city, just us women. We’ll see if Elide can tear herself away from Lorcan and then we can get absolutely plastered in town and forget all of the crap in our lives.” 

“My parents will never let me go out without guards.” 

“They can stand at the doors, or sit at another table making sure you’re fine. I don’t care, we just need to let loose, have some fun!” 

Aelin hesitated just a second before squeezing her eyes together and letting out a long groan. “Fine. For a couple of hours tops. I want to be in bed by midnight.” 

“Anything you wish, old lady.”

Lysandra grabbed Aelin and led her to the horses. The mountains were cloaked in darkness, the night air cold. They rode back to the castle in record speed, Aelin heading straight to her rooms to change. She knew this was a bad idea. Going into the city on the busiest night of the week… going drinking. But maybe it would be a good thing. She could forget about her problems for the night, relax with her friends for the first time in forever. Aelin pulled out the first dress from her wardrobe, an emerald green gown with gold lining the cuffs of the sleeves. She threw off her old clothes and dressed quickly, giving her hair a quick brush letting it fall in golden waves down her back. 

Elide was the first to knock on her door. She looked lovely in a simple blue gown, her hair piled on the top of her head, small silver ribbons running through. 

“Lorcan was adamant about keeping us safe… so he’ll be chaperoning tonight.” 

Aelin barked out a laugh. “He couldn’t bear to let you go?” 

“Something like that.” She smiled timidly, moving to the couch. “He won’t bother us.” 

Lysandra entered at that moment, her red dress low and revealing. “Are we ready? I could do with some wine.” 

Aelin gave a look to Elide, who returned it with her own. The three of them made their way down to the foyer where five guards were waiting, as well as a sullen looking Lorcan, and her parents.

“Remember to stick together.” Her mother said as she fussed over Aelin’s hair. “Don’t drink too much, and please be safe.” She kissed Aelin’s brow. 

“Stop fussing! We’ll be fine.” Aelin swatted her mother’s hands away as she looked to her father who was chuckling at her mother. 

“Just be careful.” 

Elide and Lysandra started to lead the way, the doors of the palace opening to reveal a carriage waiting for them outside. 

“Remember to pay your tab! We don’t need a bill being sent here and then having to explain to Darrow why you spent so much gold on wine.” Her father called out as they were climbing into the carriage. 

“Did anyone bring any gold?” Lysandra laughed as the doors closed.

Aelin couldn’t help herself but laugh too. Gold had been the last thing on her mind as she had hastily got dressed. 

“Looks like we’ll be explaining to Darrow.” 

The carriage jolted forward as it began its journey. The city was close enough that it would take only ten minutes at most to reach it. Aelin was excited to go out, despite her reservations, she was looking forward to spending time with her friends. It had seemed that over the last couple of weeks she had neglected them and she had forgotten how nice it felt— to be with people who weren’t foreign royals or generals or mercenaries. She could feel herself starting to relax as they neared the city. 

The tavern they had picked was not by any means fancy, nor was it the worst that Orynth had to offer. But it was nice enough, and it had enough privacy that they could sit in a booth and not be bothered by people. As soon as the barmaid saw who was entering the tavern a bottle of their finest wine was brought to their table. 

Lysandra lifted her glass. “I’d like to make a toast.” 

Aelin and Elide lifted their glasses in unison, waiting for Lysandra to continue. “To my two best friends who I love and adore. Thank you for putting up with me and joining in with my impulsive ideas. Cheers!” She lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip, the others following suit. 

They remained in the booth whilst they polished off the first and second bottles of wine. They chatted about everything and nothing. Elide telling them about her newlywed life with Lorcan, whilst Lysandra prattled on about Aedion. Aelin mostly stayed silent, chipping in here and there with jokes or comments. By the end of the second bottle she had started to feel tipsy, her body going light and she found the lure of the music and the dance floor too much to resist. Lysandra and Elide refused at first, claiming they needed more to drink; so Aelin had marched up to the bar and ordered their strongest liquor, taking it back to the table and demanding they all drink. 

It didn’t take long for it to kick in; and soon enough they were all up in the middle of the tavern, laughing and spinning to the music. Aelin couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so free… so light. The music changed to another upbeat song, Aelin joining hands with Elide and Lysandra, dancing in circles, her head to the ceiling, smiling from ear to ear. 

They stayed dancing for a while longer, going back to the table a few times to swig some more wine that they had ordered. Not long after that Elide claimed she was going to be sick if she continued, Lysandra agreeing and the three of them going to sit. A guard came over shortly after exclaiming it was late and they should leave, much to the protests of Lysandra. 

So they headed back to the carriage, Lorcan looking relieved that they were finally leaving. Even the guards looked happy at their exit. They scrambled into the carriage, giggling and breathless. 

“I am drunk.” Elide said as the carriage pulled away. 

“I’m hungry.” Lysandra leant her head against the side of the carriage, her eyes watching the scenery pass. 

“We should raid the kitchen when we get back.” Aelin suggested. 

“I still want to devour that piece of almond tart Aedion left me.”

“I want to devour Lorcan.” 

Lysandra and Aelin stared at Elide, at the words that had left her mouth. Aelin could never remember Elide being so cras, the words so alien from her mouth. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing, Lysandra doing the same. 

“Who knew you could say such things, Elide.” The three of them still laughing as the carriage pulled in front of the doors to the palace. 

Elide and Lysandra were the first to stumble out, Aelin following. She didn’t pay attention to where she was stepping, and couldn’t stop herself as she tripped on the skirts of her dress and fell face first into the ground, her head smacking against the hard stone. 

She didn’t hear much as she remained there, splayed on the ground, her head now pounding. The world was spinning and she could’ve sworn she could smell blood. She heard muffled voices around her, alarmed shouts of guards. 

“Someone get a healer. She’s hurt.” 

She didn’t respond as she felt herself being picked up, her body heavy and limp as they rushed her up the steps of the palace and inside. 

“What happened?” She could hear Orlon as he walked beside whoever was carrying her.

“She fell getting out of the carriage, she’s bleeding. We’re taking her to a healer.” 

The words of people around her became hard to decipher as she felt herself going in and out of consciousness, the pounding in her head only increasing. 

She didn’t remember the rest as she plunged into darkness. 

[vanillann]

from stars to the balcony (b.b)

a/n: this is based off the prompt “Either Bucky or Reader are feeling down (in any way, sad, angry, angsty, whatever), there is a power blackout and the other one notices that now you can see the stars, fluff” by @emmabarnes !

word count: 2.3k

bucky barnes masterlist

I could feel my legs burn from pacing the length of my room, my finger toying with the sleeve of my long sleeve. The tea I had made earlier sat on the table but I had long forgotten about it, the conversation from the kitchen was replying too fast.

I was fired, I didn’t have a job. I had bills to pay but no income for the moment. It was because of downsizing, which meant I could get unemployment, but still. I had been working at this job since I was fresh out of college and now I was left to rot in my own self pity.

I pulled my shirt closer to my skin, hoping it would absorb into my skin. As soon as I got the call I turned the heat down, hoping it would save some money. I rubbed my hand up and down my face, trying to think something over in my head but I was too stuck.

The busy street of Brooklyn was calmer than normal, something I was thankful for. I didn’t want to listen to stranger arguments or drunk girl giggles tonight, I didn’t want to even hear my own thoughts. I picked up the tea cup, walking back over the microwave and placing it in the center. I punched in the numbers, turning to lean on. my counter as I rocked on my heels.

I wanted to scream, but I didn’t need a noise complaint either and considering the man next door always got home late, I had only seen his face and I recognized his face immediately but I said nothing, it wasn’t my business.

Suddenly the calming sound of my microwave had stopped, the little lamp in the corner of the was out and I already knew what had happened, This is why this place had 3 stars. I pulled at the shirt to cover my hands, hoping that would change something but I could already fill the cold air rush over my cheeks.

I turned to open the microwave, smiling, then I noticed the tea had a light smoke falling out the top, dancing in the pitch back air with a little heat rushing to my face. I held it closer, finding one of the many candles I had bought forever ago and lit it in the center of the room.

I would’ve scrolled through my phone for a minute but I didn’t need my data bill going up. The soft blanket my cousin had knitted me was wrapped tightly around me and I could already feel myself warming. I looked around the room, trying to find a book I hadn’t read or something to do when I noticed the clear sky. It made me wonder why the power even went out, my curiosity getting the best of me as I pulled the blanket closer and warmed my hands on the tea. I grabbed the metal handle of the door, opening it just enough to slip through before I rested my hands on the edge. I looked down for a second, the sidewalk only had a few people on it and there were only taxis on the street.

“You aren’t jumping, are ya?”

I turned around swiftly, spotting the silhouette of a person on the balcony beside me. He had a hat pulled down to cover his face, he was wearing a thin long sleeve and pants, definitely not bundled up in the cold breeze of Brooklyn.

I had to remind myself who he was, superheroes don’t freeze in New York city.

“Oh no, no,” I repeated the words quickly, finding I had leaned over slightly to look at the city below better.

“Just checking, wouldn’t want to explain that to the cops.”

I winched when I realized what he meant, they would think he did it.

“Your name is James, right?” I decided having a conversation with the man from next door never hurt anyone, although I noticed the book in his lap and I didn’t think he’d respond, I wouldn’t blame him.

“Yeah, but most people call me worse names.”

I frowned, moving to the corner closer to him so I wouldn’t have to talk as loud. This felt like a lot more intimate conversation.

“I’ve been called so pretty bad things, doesn’t mean they're true.”

He didn’t respond, I suppose he didn’t wanna get into it with a stranger.

“What book ya reading?”

“Hunger something,” he moved it slightly so I could see part of the cover. I smiled when I recognized the gold bird across the dark cover.

“The Hunger Games! I really enjoyed that one,” I turned back to look out at the sky, “I’ve watched the movies one too many times.”

“They made movies?”

I was about to yelp but I managed to hold it back, I had forgotten not everyone was obsessed with these things.

“Yeah, four of ‘em,” I could hear my own voice jump a few octavos, he was probably so annoyed with me.

“Oh,” I saw him nod out the corner and I decided I should shut up and let him continue his reading. It was only fair because if someone had interrupted me I’d probably pull a Katniss and shot them with a bow and arrow.

I let my eyes drift over the closed stores, the light around the area was out and it made me feel better. We weren't the only place without power. The few people on the sidewalk were gone and I watched the last taxi drive off with two giggling girls who were wearing those “I Heart NY” shirts. I always loved counting those as a kid, feeling a strange pride from being from New York.

“You must be from around here.”

There was his voice giving me a heart attack again. If he didn’t keep catching me off guard I would admire how rough and powerful it sounded, like he could tell you to sit and you’d do it like a sad puppy waiting for a treat.

“Yeah, Buffalo but I visited Brooklyn a lot, how’d ya know?” I turned slightly so I could look at him when I spoke, since he seemed to actually want to talk.

“Only people from New York would be amazed by the clear sky, I used to hate how you could never see the stars,” I watched him place the book to the side, standing up and leaning against his own railing. The faint light from the few buildings that had power flashed across his face. He was taller than I remembered and his hair was longer, pulled into a little ponytail at the nape of his neck. I watched him tip his hat up slightly, I could actually see his eyes.

“I didn’t even notice the stars,” I turned back to look at the stars in question, smiling when I could see all the consolation that people would point out in chessy movies.

“I was amazed I could see any, kinda glad the power went out.”

He shrugged so carelessly, something about the demeanor suited him.

“I wish I could say the same,” I whispered against the wind, trying to push the feeling I had earlier from my body completely but I knew that was impossible.

It was silent for a second like we both didn’t want to scare the stars from the sky.

“I never learned any of the consolations.”

I smiled this time when he spoke because he was trying to keep the conversation alive.

“Can’t say I have either,” I turned back to admire him, the way he looked at the stars like it was everything to him.

“That one looks like it would be a Latin name,” he pointed to a cluster of stars like he was pointing at a cloud and telling someone it looked like an elephant when it definitely didn’t. Instead of calling him out I smiled, turning and letting my own eyes ranked over the millions of stars.

“That one looks really important, you know like it comes out every two hundred years,” my finger extended to point at a few stray stars that seemed to shine brighter than the rest, but I doubted that.

“Wonder if you’re right,” I could hear a slight chuckle in his voice as if he knew something I didn’t but it was more than likely he did.

“If I am then you owe me ten bucks,” my own laughs filled in behind his own, the once silent streets were long gone as James pointed to a different star.

“That one looks like you.”

“How can someone look like a star,” I kept laughing, looking at the stars he was talking about.

“I don’t know, but you do.”

I felt his eyes watch me but I didn’t have it in me to look at him, just watching the star that apparently looked like me. A large, duller star sat beside it but as it moved it seemed to grow brighter.

“That one is you then,” I pointed, smiling when I heard him scoff.

“That feels like a burn!”

I laughed, smiling as the breeze spread over my body and I couldn’t help but pull the blanket closer. I wanted to go in, because while it wasn’t much warmer it was something, but picking out stars with this man next door was a lot of fun.

I didn’t expect to enjoy the powerless night so much, but I was suddenly just as happy about it.

“I think that is Sirius, the dog star,” the nerd in me jumped out, laughing when I heard him slam his hand slightly on the rail. I said nothing of the mental on mental sound, I knew some things that happen in pop culture.

“I thought you didn’t know about this stuff!”

“I don’t, I just like Harry Potter,” I shrugged, looking back at his face. The few lights that were once on were off down, the only reason I saw any of his face was street lamps and the moon itself. I enjoyed watching his eyebrows raise, disappearing under the brim of his hat.

“I think Banner mentioned that once,” I don’t think he meant for me to hear and I thought best not to talk about his line of work, I definitely wouldn’t want to have to talk about mine if he asked.

“Probably, book and movie series.”

He nodded, both our eyes filtered back to the night sky that hung above us. It was enchanting to say the least, two kids from the city looking up at the sky like they lived in the country.

“You seemed stressed when you came out, do you feel any better?”

For the first time tonight, he asked a question I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to talk about any of my feelings from inside my small apartment, that was too real for the boy next door. Out here was light and airy, no stuffy matter allowed.

“Yeah, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking, just wanted to make sure you were feeling better.”

Anyone else would have been offended. He wasn't planning to ask but I respected it. He understood not to ruin a good moment like this, not now. Keep it light while it can be, because the second things get heavy the feeling is gone, I needed a light moment for this single second. If he wanted to knock on my door in the morning and ask then, fine, but now wasn’t the time and I was thankful we saw the same thing.

Another breeze brushed over my skin, a chill running up my skin and I frowned when the mug was no longer hot. I heard a pop from behind me and I turned to notice my lamp was back on.

The power was back, which meant the moment was gone.

“Well, power is back,” he awkwardly pointed over his shoulder at the building, his own apartment didn’t have much light but I assumed he was out here before the power went out,

“Yeah, I should probably head in,” I knew it would be warmer, but I felt as if my body was so much calmer out here.

“Yeah.”

We watched each other for a minute, I took my last glance at the boy with the beat up hat and the laugh of a Greek God.

“Night James,” I waved over my shoulder, holding the mug to my chest and grabbing the freezing door handle.

“Night (Y/N).”

I slipped back in the apartment, smiling when the little heat crashed onto my freezing cheeks, the contrast nice for the first few seconds. I set the mug down, blowing out the candle as my apartment now smelt like apple cider, which was just as calming. I missed the moments on the balcony but I was happy for the heat. I moved around my apartment, fixing my alarm clock and resetting a few other things after the power outages. I had just replugged the wifi router when I heard a little knock at my door. I assumed it was the landlord to tell me the power was back, obviously. I slid across the floor, swinging it open as I was prepared to lean on the door frame. I felt myself frown, not out of sadness but confusion as I realized who it was.

“James?”

He pulled his hand out his pocket, holding out ten dollars with a little shrug.

“Some crazy eclipses thing is happening tonight, hasn’t happened in two hunder and nine years.”

I couldn’t stop the large smile that graced my lips as I reached out to pull the ten-dollar from his grip, smiling more when he lingered in the doorway for a second.

“The tea you had looked good,” he rocked back and front of his feet, his eyes downcast to his shoes.

“Like a mug of it?” He looked up, smiling as I opened the door wider from him.

“If you insist.”

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[dirt-cup-draco]

Peter Pevensie- Courting

Hi, for your character and love language thing, if you write for Peter Pevensie can you do Peter Pevensie and physical touch as the love language? and if you are still open for love language requests, can i request one with Peter Pevensie and gift giving? i love giving gifts that show how much you pay attention to the things they love and For the love languages thing: Peter Pevensie and physical touch @thegrxywitch

A/N: Peter deserves love :))))) lil grumpy king

Even after nearly a month of courting Peter still couldn’t stop his palms from sweating when you appeared in the gardens that day, eyes bright and cheeks rosy from a secret bashfulness he didn’t understand. Your hands were tucked behind your back as he stood, moving to pull your chair out for you. His hands and feet fell clumsy as he stumbled in the grass, hands clamping down quickly on the back of your seat as he tried to stay upright. 

“H-here, princess,” Peter coughed, trying to cover up the stutter that slipped out. He was mentally cursing himself. Riding into battle was far easier than courting he had told Edmund after his first meeting with you and it had remained true. But his troubles weren’t because he was having a hard time in your company, it was because he had grown to love your company and the sugar sweet smiles you gave him. 

Peter had thought you false at first. Always smiling, always giggling at his jokes, always happily taking his hand when he asked you to dance. He had suspicions you were much like every other woman and princess he had encountered thus far upon deciding he was ready for marriage and deciding having another queen might be beneficial to other lands and his own. Lucy had pouted terribly for days, upset her older brother had tossed love away. Susan had gotten her nose into every lady’s business, making sure Peter would have someone who was worthy of him. Edmund had rolled his eyes and claimed he would never marry. 

He’d been indifferent about the whole process despite his siblings fussing, and lack thereof (that night he had bet with Lucy that Edmund would be the next to be wed). But since that day his feelings had completely changed and you were the culprit for his change of heart. You weren’t false in any way, you were just happy in his presence and it took away his breath to think about. 

He would’ve continued his suspicions thoughts if he hadn’t seen a Lord approach you during one of the many balls that he hosted. Peter had only been seeing you for less than two weeks then but he had already grown attached so he had inched closer to you and the Lord and eavesdropped even if it made his ears burn red with shame as he thought about it. As the man spoke your frown had dropped from your face immediately and your posture had grown more rigid. There was no delicate laugh, no rosy cheeks. You were more icy than the wicked witch that had plagued Narnia once long ago and he felt an odd mixture of pride and fear then. 

Now, he felt only fondness as you laid your hand atop his. “Please, my King, call me Y/N,” You insisted and his stomach flipped giddily seeing as you hadn’t dropped your free hand away from his. Peter was so distracted he didn’t even realize you had a wrapped gift in your other hand that now rested on your lap as you settled into your chair. 

Peter cleared his throat and mind and pulled his hand from yours so that he could take his place across from you. He was hyper aware of every step he took and word he said. You were perfect in his eyes and he had fallen head over heels. You would never use his emotions for your gain nor would you laugh him for how quickly he had realized he wanted nothing more than to be yours however a part of him wondered if you felt the same. 

“Then please, call me Peter,” 

Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you grinned unabashedly at the king who had stolen your heart with the mixture of his maturity and his boyish embarrassment every time you did something as simple as touch his hand. Since your first meeting he had made your heart skip around in your chest and even after youd removed your corset that night for bed the palpitations had continued at the thought of him. Your handmaid confirmed you weren’t being crushed by your clothing and it was likely you had taken a fancy with Peter. 

“Okay Peter,” You winked playfully and his lips twitched upwards in a dopey smile. His shoulders drooped and he leant his elbows on the garden table, the hedges around him blooming beautifully but he was taken with you.

He opened his mouth but realized only when you had interrupted him with an “Oh!” that he wasn’t quite sure what he’d been about to say and you had more than likely saved him the shame of saying something odd like, marry me for the love of aslan you’re perfect for me. 

“I um... Got something for you,” You muttered, hands fiddling with your skirts for a moment before you presented him with the neatly wrapped package. You kept your eyes downcast and thought you did have a shyness about you he didn’t think he’d ever seen you so unsure and it tugged at his chest painfully. 

His hands encased yours, the package nestled between the two of your clasped fingers. “Oh darling, you didn’t need to,” The term of endearment slipping past his lips without a thought but you seemed to gain some confidence from the name, your smile widening back to it’s blindingly bright volume. 

“I know I wanted to,” You insisted, pushing the package further into his hands. “It was just something you mentioned some time ago and when it caught my eye I knew I had to get it for you,” 

Peter wasn’t sure how to respond so instead he took the package reverently, setting it gently on the table as he tried to decide how best to unwrap it so there wouldn’t be a single tear in the paper you had obviously worked so hard at getting wrinkle free. 

“Pete,” You giggled. “It’s just paper, please just tear into it,” 

With that push, Peter let himself eagerly open whatever it is that you thought he must need. His mind was reeling trying to remember what he had mentioned to you in passing that had seemed so important. His stomach flipped and flopped when he couldn’t think of anything. It went to show how closely you had paid attention he realized as he soon had a beautiful leather bound journal in his hands, the pages lined with gold as they shone in the comfortable summer sun, a light breeze shuffling them as he thumbed through the empty pages. 

“Y/N,” Peter gasped. “It’s stunning, where did you find it?” He remembered now on your second meeting that he had mentioned needing to get a journal to keep track of his busy day and busy thoughts and busy everything as he had been feeling particularly overwhelmed that day and you had taken it to heart instead of brushing it off as duties he had to deal with. 

“A market in the town square,” You spoke lightly as if it was nothing but Peter knew how crowded they could get and you mentioned that crowds could sometimes be stifling. It added the gift even more and he felt special. He had always been viewed special in different ways, Peter thought

. As the eldest sibling he was held above others, he had to be the mature and cool one. As king he had duty upon duty thrown in his lap and because of his age difference to his capable brother he felt he needed to take on the higher work load. Those were things that could make him feel special but they held a consequence and a weight whereas you made him feel important, king or not,  eldest brother or not. 

He stretched his hand out for yours and when you placed your hand in his he brought your knuckles to his lips eyes glued to yours as the both of you felt your cheeks growing warm. 

“Truly, this is perfect,” He praised once again, hoping you knew how much he loved the gift.  “Y-you’re perfect,” Peter added, needing you to know, his fingers still laced with yours. 

You nearly squeaked, eyes wide. “I’m far from perfect Peter-” 

“Not to me, you exceed any other person I’ve ever met,” He was feeling oddly sentimental as he brushed his fingers over the gorgeous lettering you had added of his name. 

“Thank you,” Was all you could think to say, squeezing his hand and hoping he knew just what it meant to you, just what he meant to you. 

He squeezed back, a softness taking over his gaze. You were certain then that Peter Pevensie knew just what he meant to you and you were beginning to see that his feelings were very much the same. 

[tooruluv]

Kei Tsukishima x F!Reader ( part 5 )

❝ they were the sun and moon, destined to be together but only ever totally meeting once every hundred years or so. ❞

description: in a world where you only see color when you're in love, you've grown frustrated of the greyscale. but falling in love with someone you barely know was never something you planned. and, him not returning the feelings definitely wasn’t planned.

genre: soulmate au... except not quite. everyone is born colorblind. you can only see color once you fall in love (and it grows brighter until you see full color as the love grows). however, that doesn't ensure a lasting connection. it simply means that love exists in that moment, until it doesn't.

word count: 1,282

warnings/notes: bake sale shenanigans 

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“  i’ll make the most of the sadness ” - slow dancing in a burning room, john mayer

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

Of all the things that you found yourself mulling over, almost kissing Kei Tsukishima was something that you never expected. Yet there you were. Pacing your bedroom by yourself with one hand pressed to your lips chasing the near ghost of his.

You should talk to him about it. 

It isn’t that you were embarrassed, nor were you even upset. You were just confused. 

He was so close to kissing you. He was so very close. And he would’ve, too, if your mom hadn’t walked in. He would’ve done it. 

He would have, right?

Sighing, you flopped onto your bed. Maybe Mai and Haru were right about “baking”. 

You juggled your containers of desserts, struggling to hold them in your arms. The cupcakes and brownies were definitely moving around in the plastic tubs, but you were just trying to get them from your house to the bake sale table.

Tsukishima suddenly appeared at your side, grabbing only the top container.

“Oh. Hey.” You managed to get the others in a stable position. “Hey.”

“You said hey twice.” 

“Yeah.” You were going to talk to him. You were going to talk to him about the almost kiss. Yes. That was what you were going to do. “Actually, I wanted to…”

“You guys made cupcakes!!” 

You were going to commit arson if you got interrupted one more fucking time.

Yamaguchi walked up to you both, smile plastered on his face. He must’ve already brought whatever he made (his cookies, if you remembered correctly) because his hands were empty.

“And brownies.” Tsukki said. 

Yamaguchi looked between you two. He noticed the abnormal distance between you and his best friend, and how you aren’t looking at him in his eyes or making some remark. He is observant if not anything. 

When you met Kei Tsukishima for the first time, you simply wanted to be his friend. You thought he looked cool, and he ordered the last thing someone your age would order. You were infatuated, absolutely and completely.

You remember watching in the black and white, wondering and fantasizing about what color his hair was or what color shirt he was wearing that morning.

And now here you were, seeing color in your friend’s eyes.

Friend. 

That was exactly what you wanted to be.

You ignored the pressure on your chest as you pushed down the fact that you were in love with him. You ignored the pain in your heart as you realized that you could see a little bit more gold in his eyes.

“You guys made these? They’re deli--hey that’s mine!!!--licious!”

You were sitting in a chair with Tsukki, Mai, and Haru around you. None of you were really talking, mainly just scrolling through your phones and laughing about random things as you waited for school to open and start your sale.

But the second you heard Nishinoya, you whipped your head around. Tsukki did, too.

Noya and Tanaka were eating your desserts, faces stuffed with the baked goods you created. You exchanged one knowing look with Tsukki before the both of you jumped up to stop them.

That’s how you ended up shopping at the local grocery store with Tsukishima.

Nishinoya and Tanaka were lucky that you considered them your friends (or at least, friendly acquaintances). Because you could have their head on a stick for eating every single thing you made.

“I cannot believe them.”

Tsukki rolled his eyes as you both scanned the shelves. “I can. It’s typical of them. Nishinoya and Tanaka are… more than enough.”

You chuckle a little. You liked this. Being normal.

He reached above your head to grab a box of cupcakes from the shelf. Okay. So maybe it wasn’t normal. 

You felt your heart skip a beat when his arm stayed above you for just a millisecond longer than it should’ve been.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” You told him as you grabbed one from a lower shelf.

“About?”

“Well, about how we…”

“Are you two finding everything okay?” A worker asked, walking down the aisle. 

“Yeah, yup. We’re doing alright.” 

You were going to do something to end up on the national news.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting you to buy something instead of baking your own.” Ukai said to you when you placed your store bought brownies and cupcakes onto the table.

“We didn’t. Originally.”

“We?”

“Oh, right. Tsukki and I baked for a long time yesterday.” You shrugged. “But someone decided that they were simply too good to put out for the rest of the school.”

“And by someone you mean those two.” Ukai pointed his head towards the two in question.

You smiled, taking a seat next to the coach. Your own coach sat with the baseball coach at the other table, talking to the volleyball third years. 

“Are you and Tsukishima… you know…?” Ukai questioned.

You immediately shook your head. There was no way you were having this conversation with your family friend, someone you see at family outings. Not today and not any other day.

“I’m not having this conversation.”

“Okay, quick question then.” He leaned back in the chair. “Do you think we should wear our black jerseys or should I try to get orange jerseys for home games?”

“Keep the black, the orange is bright. Noya will look good standing out.”

“Hm.”

Fuck. So much for that.

“Coach Ukai” had always been Keishin Ukai to you. You didn’t know exactly how it happened, but their family had always been close to yours. Growing up, they would be at all of your family events and you remember going to volleyball games and Ukai coming to your softball games. 

So, when he came to your house for dinner one night with your parents and he asked “Hey, I heard you want to volunteer. I’m coaching the boy’s volleyball team if you want to help after your softball practices.” you couldn’t really say no.

“That’s perfect!” your mom said.

You kicked her under the table.

The bake sale went as planned. It made the teams quite a bit of money, just enough for the needed buses. 

Tsukishima watched as you sold the random baked goods. He watched you smile at every interaction and mess with Coach Ukai. Once, you caught his eye and smiled directly at him.

You couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his ribs.

“Go talk to him.” Mai muttered to you as you cleaned up some things at the table.

“What?”

“Go fucking talk to him.” Mai repeated. “I know that it’s eating away at you. Go ask him about the kiss. Right now.”

“We’re busy.”

“Oh, no.” Mai took the trash out of your hand. “No. Nope. Go fucking talk to him. Now.”

And you were being pushed.

Tsukki sat on a chair, legs spread and hands crossed over his chest. But the second your eyes met his, he sat up straight and pushed his glasses up.

“Can I talk to you?” you asked.

He gave you a nod and he stood, following you around the corner. Everyone was in class, so there was no chance of being caught unless someone from the bake sale interrupted.

“I would like to tell you something first.” He started. You just blinked up at him. “We’re friends.”

You furrowed your brows. “Yes. We’re friends.” Friends don’t nearly kiss while covered in baking ingredients. 

“Yes. Friends.”

Oh. 

That’s all he had to say. He was emphasizing it. 

So you would too.

“Friends.” You said again, nodding. “Best friends?”

He smiled (something you loved, but you ignored that). “That spot is reserved for Yamaguchi. You can be my second in command, though.”

“That sounds cooler, anyway.”

tag list: @vhskenma​​​​​​ @elianetsantana​​​​​​ @mini-eggs-reads​​​​​​ @ysasian​​​​ @hhwanggu​​​​ @i-stole-your-juice-box​​​​ @definitelynotbianca​​​​ @denkithunder​​​ @smuttyanimeslut​​ @yourlocalbabybird​​ @theydy-madamonsieur @expiredbananamilk​

[girlboss-molina]

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 6: Growing Pains

AO3 Link

Words: 16340

-----

Alex POV

… 

Alex was surprisingly calm. The pressed white dress shirt was cool against his skin, the slim-fitting blue vest with subtle gold embroidery a calming pressure over his chest. He was anxious, of course, but not nearly as much as he would’ve expected, given the situation. He felt free, light…

And then he was drowning.

His lungs closed, refusing the air he tried to gulp down, throwing away a lifeline. Everything burned, like fiery needles stabbing into him at the speed of sound, not enough to bleed but somehow even more painful. His vision blurred, dizziness or tears, he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t hear his own breathing, or lack thereof, over the pounding of his heart in his ears. Everything was wrong. 

Then, the pounding of his heart silenced, his head felt lighter than air. He couldn’t move. He felt like he was in a cloud, no, like he was a cloud, floating in the sky but losing parts of himself as he passed, unable to control what happened, a bystander left helpless to watch havoc. 

Alex tried to move, tried to think, but his brain felt like ice, flaming with shivers as he shook, his lungs leaving no room for air between the panic. 

Something is going to go wrong, he thought. He had a feeling in his gut that fueled his panic, telling him that someone would get hurt tonight, or that something horrible would happen, a feeling he couldn’t shake no matter how unrealistic it might’ve been. He knew Caleb wouldn’t try anything at the ball. It was a huge event, and tons of people would be there. 

He couldn’t sort out his thoughts, though, so he had no choice but to let this panic attack run its course. It felt surreal but painfully there, like when you’re so cold that you feel like you’re on fire. His hands shook, and he barely registered the salty tears coating his lips as he paced across the floor, back and forth until there was a groove in the rug. 

He made his way back to his bed, shaking, barely able to get the breath to fake three sneezes. He almost worried that it didn’t work, but then his door opened, Luke abandoning his post and sinking down next to him. He felt Luke’s arms wrap around him, and the touch immediately grounded him. Rather than a helpless cloud, he was the icy snow crusting the tops of the mountains behind the palace, unable to do anything but laying a foundation for something. And as Luke’s hands traced circles on his shoulder blades, he became the water rushing down the cliff sides, rapid and unpredictable, his breathing quickening but the panic subsiding. And when Luke pressed a gentle, calming kiss to his temple, Alex’s breathing finally slowed, his lungs letting in the air they so craved, and he calmed as the rushing water flowed into a clear pond, each reassuring touch from his best friend like a lily floating on the surface. 

He could hear, finally aware of Luke’s soft whispers of “it’ll be okay,” and “just breathe.” 

“Sorry,” he choked out, seeing Luke shake his head out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t be,” he said. “This is a nerve-racking thing. I’m super nervous too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Alex said dryly, wiping his tears. 

“Really?” Luke challenged, a quiver in his voice, extending a hand in front of Alex, which was trembling. “You’re not alone, I promise.”

“Thanks.” Alex tore a hand through his hair, taking his turn to wrap Luke in a hug and let him let out his emotions. He felt him shake against his chest, but his breathing stayed relatively even. Alex was never great at the whole physical contact thing. His parents were never touchy, to the point where hugs were always a rarity. But Luke was a touchy person, and soon Alex was comfortable with his spontaneous embraces and casual, platonic affection. 

“Okay,” Luke finally said. “It’s almost time. Let’s get ourselves fixed up.” Alex nodded, squeezing him tighter before letting go. They both wandered to the bathroom, gently wiping their faces of tears and fixing their hair. Alex tugged on his sleeves, eliminating any wrinkles, and readjusted his snug vest. 

“Okay,” he breathed. “I’m ready.”

“Me too.”

They both knew it was a lie. But their steps were steady as they walked to the ballroom. 

…

The food was delicious, especially the dessert, and Alex’s cheeks flushed as he wondered if Willie had made it. The expertly piped frosting seemed familiar, and he was almost sure that it was he who had carefully crafted it. 

And if he got emotional over a beautifully piped flower because of the slight possibility that it was made by his crush, no he didn’t. 

Eventually, the dancing started, and Alex had to suffer through. He plastered on an unconvincing smile and did his best to waltz around the ballroom with random Nobility who were chatting non-fucking-stop about how excited he must be for the marriage, and how was he liking it in Dahlia, and did he mind the cold, and what his relationship with Julie was like. Soon, he’d had it, and made some lame excuse about feeling a bit light-headed. Thankfully, he’d been able to ditch them and sit down along the side of the room. 

Reggie plopped down next to him, sitting sideways with his arm draped over the back of the chair. 

“Tired of the Nobles prying?” he assumed. Alex nodded, snorting. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they have no gaydar, but it’s still super annoying being asked about my supposed girlfriend,” he added. “But playing heterosexual is still a pain in the ass.”

“Tell me about it,” Reggie agreed. “Every time I have an interview, it’s all, ‘any special lady in your life?’ or ‘have you taken an interest in any ladies of different kingdoms?’ but never ‘what’s your favorite pizza topping’ or ‘why are you the amazing bisexual that you are?’” Alex nodded sarcastically. 

“Of course.” 

“I know I joke,” Reggie added, “but I feel for you, man. It must be super hard.” 

“Yeah. And I do appreciate the attempts to lighten the mood, too.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” 

…

It was nearly eleven when the screaming started. 

Alex’s heart jumped to his throat, his stomach plummeted, and he simultaneously felt like everything was happening at once, and like it was moving in slow motion.

He remembered the sound of people running. Cries of the few children in attendance. Shouts of furious Nobility. Hushed, terrified breathing of the council members. Caleb’s velvety, disgusting voice as he lounged on Ray’s throne. The pounding of his heart in his ears. 

But what he remembered most vividly was the glint of the daggers pressed against each of the council members’ throats. 

“Why?” someone asked. It took a few seconds for Alex to realize that he was the one who’d spoken. Caleb quirked an eyebrow and gave him the side-eye.

“Why what?” Alex was shocked by his sudden swell of angry confidence. 

“You know damn well what I mean. Why are you doing this? We’ve been allies for a century, and you’re going to try to overthrow us and put daggers at the throats of our council members?”

“You know, Alexander, it really is adorable how you talk about Dahlia as if it’s your country. You are, until the wedding, the Tamborian prince.” Caleb twirled an extra dagger around his fingers. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that what you’re doing is wrong, and you know it. You just want more power, clearly, but do you really think people will stand for this and accept you as their leader? Do you really think that anyone with half a mind will be okay with this?”

“Alexander, the beauty of youth also comes with naivete. I wouldn’t expect you to understand yet. But the fact of the matter is that, in life, you must deal with growing pains. This will all be for the better.”

“No,” Julie interrupted, “it won’t. There is a huge difference between growing pains and whatever the hell you’re trying to do, and you know it.” 

Before Alex could add to what she said, he saw the back door of the ballroom open silently, revealing Lilian - the tall, dark-haired woman he’d met when looking for Willie - stalking in, a gleaming knife in her hand. She was followed by a short, plump woman with purple hair, a line of various chefs and bakers, each armed with metal frying pans, and-

No. 

He tried to hide the fear in his eyes as Willie walked in, his brow furrowed and hands steady, wrapped around the knife in his hand. But when their eyes met, and Alex tried to give him the tiniest of head shakes, Willie mouthed something that Alex couldn’t make out before Caleb spoke again.

“I can see you’re all a bit tense,” he said silkily, “so here’s how this will go. Ray here is going to surrender, and I’ll let your precious council members live.” 

Alex watched as the group behind Lilian - thankfully not including Willie - silently lined up behind the seven Kryptonians holding daggers to the council. They made eye contact with one another before simultaneously bringing their frying pans down on their heads as hard as they could, causing everyone to erupt in shouts and screams, some of joy, some of rage, some of fear. Caleb’s head snapped over, and then Lilian spoke. 

“Or,” she said smoothly, “you could surrender, and go back to your own country.” She had the knife trained on his back, the blade gleaming in the lantern-lit room. Willie was in front of Caleb, popping out from behind the throne. Alex’s heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to pound louder or silence itself completely as he saw the terror in Willie’s eyes that he tried to mask. 

“Don’t hurt these people,” Willie said, his voice steadier than Alex would’ve expected. 

“A few bakers trying to save their precious leaders,” Caleb purred, but the malice in his voice was like venom. “How sweet. Unfortunately for you, I have this”- he pulled a small remote out of his pocket -”and while I would rather not use it, I will if I must.” Alex’s stomach dropped. 

A bomb.

“That’s right,” Caleb said over the terrified screams, people running for the doors. “If any of you here have any sense, you’ll run. You shouldn’t have to, of course, but if your leaders continue to be stubborn, it might be for the best.”

“You’re bluffing,” someone called from the audience. “You’re in this room too.”

“Am I?” Caleb challenged, and Alex’s face warped with confusion, until he saw a flicker. 

A hologram. 

“Yes,” Caleb remarked. “You probably didn’t notice my brief trip to the restroom earlier, but that wasn’t actually a restroom trip. I’m far away by now.”

“But what about your representatives?” Reggie asked. 

“Acceptable losses. These aren’t actually representatives, they’re criminals who have been offered the chance of a full pardon if things don't go south. They have, however, been made very clear of the other possibility.” Alex noticed one of them tremble. 

“You might notice that your king is not in the room,” Caleb added, and Alex’s face reddened with fury. 

“What did you do to my dad?” Julie shouted, her hands clenched in fists, shaking. 

“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Caleb said. “But I guarantee that, should I press this button, he’ll be in the line of fire.”

Furious shouts echoed in the huge room, and Alex watched as Julie stepped up to the royals’ table. 

“Leave my people alone.” The words were cold, harsh, but clear and steady. “Get out of our kingdom. You have no place here.”

“Yeah,” Reggie interjected. “We’re not going to abandon our people, no matter how much you want us to.” 

“You can’t make us surrender,” Luke informed him. Alex nodded, standing as tall as he could. 

“I truly hate to do this,” Caleb said, without an ounce of sorrow in his voice. “But you leave me no choice.” 

“NO,” Alex yelled, his eyes flicking from Luke to Julie to Carlos to Willie to Reggie, trying to find all of them and get them out of here.

“I’m sorry, everyone,” Caleb added maliciously. Everyone was running and screaming, bustling through the doors, 

“Everyone get out of here, now!” Luke’s voice echoed throughout the ballroom, and Alex barely saw him run after Julie. Reggie ran out another door, and Alex searched for Willie. 

At least thirty seconds had to have passed, searching the ballroom and crowded hallways, ushering people out.

“WILLIE!” his voice was louder than he’d ever known it could be, and he shouted a couple more times, finally meeting a dark brown gaze, panicked and full of all the words they’d left unsaid. Everything moved in slow motion, his legs like lead and air as he sprinted towards him.

The shockwave knocked him backwards, leaving him deaf and blind, barely registering when his back hit the ground, not even noticing the air forced out of his lungs. Alex felt like he was floating, every nerve in his body stretched along a cloud of light.

If this is dying, he thought, it’s not so bad. People don’t need to be so scared. 

His mind was trapped in a void of dark brights, blinding and comforting at the same time, like he was hovering in an endless state of between. Between fire and ice, ground and sky, life and death. He floated, wondering just how long it had been. It felt like minutes but it couldn’t have been, because that was only the shockwave.

Because then came the fire. 

The heat licked at his skin, and Alex was snapped back to reality. 

He wasn’t sure if he was burning or if it was just the air around him, which was now thick with smoke and dust. Bits of debris scattered all around, and he only saw Willie’s face one more time before falling into oblivion.

…

When Alex awoke, the sky was dark, twinkling with stars, but the faint light of sunrise teased the horizon. He was on his back, next to a giant slab of concrete, his face covered in dust. He did his best to sit up, a sharp pain on his arm. He winced, grabbing his bicep, grimacing when his palm came away soaked with blood. And his ankle hurt when he tried to stand. He tested it, but by some miracle, it didn’t feel broken. 

He stood, shaking the dust off of him and limping around, searching for other people. 

For survivors. 

Alex’s breath caught when he saw a group of people farther down the hill. He ran to them, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he bounded down. 

He saw Reggie first. His wrist was wrapped in a bandage, and a streak of red adorned his pale forehead, but he was alive. 

“REGGIE!” he shouted, running, tears blurring his eyes. Reggie’s head snapped towards him. 

“ALEX!” he cried, standing and dashing closer. They met in a hug, collapsing in each others’ arms, sobbing into their shoulders. 

“When we didn’t find you with the survivors we thought-”

“Shh, no, I’m okay,” he said. “A little roughed up, but I’ll live.” He turned his head to the palace, hundreds of feet behind him. He had a clear view of the destruction. 

He’d really underestimated the size of the palace. The ballroom was in the bottom right corner, and was blown to bits. More of the palace was scorched and crumbling, but it appeared the left half had been preserved, somehow. 

“Where’s everyone else?” he asked, refusing to give in to the panic rising in his chest. “Are they okay?”

“Julie’s with Carlos and Ray over where I was,” Reggie said. 

“Wait, Ray survived?” Relief washed over him. “But I thought-”

“I’m not sure how, but he made it,” Reggie said with an incredulous laugh, more tears running down his soot-covered face. “And Erik, Mira, Flynn and Carrie are also okay, same with Luke.” Alex sighed, smiling despite himself. They’d survived. 

“ALEX!” his head snapped to Luke’s voice, and he ran to him, once again ignoring the pain in his ankle. Luke tackled him with a hug despite the sling around his arm. “We thought you were-”

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m okay.” 

…

Alex ran through the gardens, offering quick aid to anyone he could. But he was only half-paying attention, which might’ve made him the worst prince ever. But he needed to find Willie. 

He searched, tears blurring his eyes as he made his way to the last place he needed to search, but also the one he was dreading. 

As he ran into the park, he searched the lawn and sidewalks, nearly dying of relief when he saw Willie, sitting in the middle of the field, his knees hugged to his chest…

Shaking with sobs. 

“Willie!” he called, racing over. Willie’s head snapped up, his eyes red and puffy. His face went from shock to happiness to confusion to incredulity within half a second, and he stood, shaking and walking to Alex. 

A swell of confidence, probably tied with a huge rush of adrenaline, sent Alex running forward, wrapping Willie in a hug, who sobbed into his shoulder. Soon, Alex was crying too. 

“I’m sorry,” Willie whispered shakily. Alex shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was doing, I should’ve grabbed you and ran…” His eyes met Willie’s, and he leaned a little closer, his heart racing until he was just a hairsbreadth away. 

Then, when Willie didn’t pull away, he pressed their lips together. 

Willie’s lips tasted like chocolate and salty tears, chapped and warm. He kissed back almost immediately, Willie’s hands tangling in Alex’s hair, Alex’s arms around his waist, pulling him closer. It might not have been a movie-worthy kiss, between the sobs, soot, and blood, but Alex couldn’t think, too caught up in the euphoria of Willie being alive, and of kissing him. 

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds when they came up for air, foreheads pressed together. 

“When you weren’t with the survivors, I-” Willie choked off into another sob. “I thought I’d lost you,” he finally whispered. Alex shook, hugging him tighter. 

“You’ll never lose me.” 

-----

Julie POV

…

Julie smoothed the front of her violet ball gown, letting the layers of tulle float gently to the floor. Straightening the silky bodice, her hands shook with anxiety, but she didn’t let herself succumb to it. The gown was identical to the one she’d worn to the welcome feast a week ago, only rather than navy blue, this one was violet. Otherwise, though, it was the same; a silky, strapless dress with layers of tulle, one layer going over her chest and collarbone in a halter neckline. However, while the blue one had tiny starlike diamonds sewn into the skirt, this one had no jewels, but the tulle halter was embroidered with dahlia designs. 

She walked to her vanity, twisting her hair into two braids, tying them together and letting the rest of her hair poof at the base of her neck. She drew her eyeliner into a small, sharp wing, brushed on mascara, and painted her lips with a shimmery gloss. She massaged a bit of lotion into her arms and spritzed some perfume into the air, walking through the mist so that it was subtle. 

Her low heels made quiet tapping noises as she walked across her bathroom, examining her reflection to make sure she looked perfect. 

Once she’d made sure her dress wasn’t crooked and that her eyeliner was even, Julie sat on the foot of her bed and grabbed her phone. The time read 19:44. 16 minutes until the ball. 

A knock on her door drew her attention. 

“Come in.” She gave a weak smile when her dad walked through the doorway. 

“Hey, mija,” he said, “you okay?” Julie shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I’m nervous, but also just anxious to get this over with. With any luck, it’ll go well, and Caleb will revoke his declaration.”

“That’s the plan,” Ray agreed. A wistful smile spread on his face, and his eyes turned glassy. 

“You look beautiful,” he told her. Julie smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Your mother had a dress just like that,” he added. “You look just like her.” Julie stood, blinking back a tear as she hugged him. He squeezed back, finally letting go with a sigh. 

“Everything will be okay.”

“Here’s hoping. And if not, we’ll make it.” Ray nodded, his expression unreadable as he left, closing her door, almost seeming like he wasn’t sure if it was true.

Right at that moment, Julie decided that it would be. If things went south, no matter what, she would fight to make sure they all made it out alive. She would fight in any way she had to if it meant her family stayed safe.

She would fight, and she would win.

…

As she walked into the ballroom, she found her assigned seat, in the center of the long royal table, just beside her father. To her right was Luke, then Alex, Carrie, Flynn, Erik, Mira, and Carlos. To her left, after Ray, was Reggie, Councilwoman Noah, Councilman Richard, Councilperson Aster, Councilwoman Mei Lin, Councilwoman Anika, Councilman Ryan, and Councilman Trevor. 

The council members weren’t technically royalty, but they were the next tier of leaders in Dahlia, and the royal table was very long, so they got to sit there as well. 

Around the perimeter, circular tables were arranged with white tablecloths draping over them, and as the Dahlian Nobility flooded in, many of the seats filled. Soon, though, King Covington arrived.

He was dressed in a black three-piece, a black and violet cloak over his shoulders. His top hat was still perched on his expertly-styled hair, and his blue eyes pierced Julie’s before travelling to Ray. Ray stood, his face neutral. Covington took off his hat and pressed it to his chest, dipping in an elaborate bow. 

“It is an honor to be here, King Molina,” he purred. “I do hope we can resolve this quickly.”

“As do I. Hopefully it will be easy. We have been allies for over a century, after all.” Covington’s smile morphed into a sneer.

“Indeed.” He flourished to his table, Kryptonian representatives right behind him, as they arranged themselves. Ray cleared his throat, and Julie took a deep breath. 

“Welcome,” he said, “to the ball. This event is a celebration of allyship, a hope for peace, and a symbol of unity amongst our people. I hope all of you in attendance will find yourselves comfortable. Please, do not hesitate to speak up if you are not. Now please, enjoy the feast.”

Soft chatter echoed in the grand room, the clicking of cutlery on plates ringing in Julie’s ears. She did her best to focus on her food, but her eyes kept flicking to Covington. He was very shady. She couldn’t decide if he was always like that, or if something was off tonight, but he spoke in hushed tones to his representatives, glancing furtively around the room. Julie turned back to her food.

“How are you holding up?” Luke’s voice snapped her out of her daze. 

“Alright,” she said after a moment. “You?”

“Alright.” 

It was a lie, of course. Neither of them were alright, but they had to pretend to be. 

Julie noticed Luke’s eyes flicker to Caleb. 

“Something seems off,” he murmured. “I’m not sure if he’s always like this, but my gut tells me something’s wrong.”

“I had the same feeling,” Julie admitted, looking at her food so people wouldn’t notice her occasional glances to Covington and Luke. 

“Hey, dad?” she asked after a moment, her voice hushed. Ray looked at her. 

“Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my gut is telling me that something bad is going to happen. Look at Covington,” she added when he looked skeptical. “He’s glancing around like he expects someone to sneak up on him, and he’s hunched. He looks so secretive, but he’s usually flamboyant.”

“Hmm,” Ray murmured. “You’re right, he is acting strange. But I’m sure everything’s fine, mija.” He patted her hand. “Your dad’s got this.” Julie offered half a smile in reply, but met Luke’s eyes nervously. 

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” he finally said. “He’s probably plotting what ridiculous outfit he’ll wear tomorrow.” The joke lightened the mood, and Julie giggled. Luke smiled, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. 

They finished their dinner, and then, the mingling began. Dessert would be brought up soon, but this was an opportunity for everyone to stand and walk around to see other people. Julie roamed the room, shaking hands and speaking cordially with the Nobility, exchanging a couple jokes with Lady Cadence. 

When butlers brought dessert from the kitchens, Julie gave a friendly curtsy to the people around her before making her way back to the table. The dessert was a mixture of mini red velvet cupcakes, piped with cream cheese frosting, and beautifully decorated cakes. Thin layers of fondant gave them warm pastel coloring, and frosting had been piped into flowers and swirls. 

She helped herself to a slice of cake, but didn’t finish it. Nerves were taking up more room in her stomach than she’d thought. So, she opted to sip her water, scanning the crowd. She noticed Lady Amara holding hands with Lady Sierra and smiled. She’d known they’d liked each other, so that warmed her heart. 

Soon, everyone had finished dessert, and the music volume increased, slow and rhythmic. People made their way to the dance floor with partners, waltzing around gracefully. Julie smiled as Carrie dragged Flynn over, spinning her around and catching her. Flynn protested but laughed. 

Soon, Julie was twirling around the dance floor, making idle chatter as she slowly waltzed with kind Nobility, talking cordially about political affairs. 

As she sat down on one of the free chairs at the edge of the ballroom, she sighed. Thankfully, everything seemed to be going well. She smoothed the tulle of her dress, fixing a curl back into a braid, when Luke’s voice caught her attention.

“My lady,” he said with a grin, dipped in a bow. “May I have this dance?” Julie stifled a laugh. He was such a dork. But she nodded, putting her hand in his and letting him pull her closer, hoping she hid her shiver when he gently placed his hand on her waist, the other holding her hand up as they danced.

“I’m surprised at how well this has gone so far,” he told her. She couldn’t help but nod, making sure nobody was paying attention.

“I half suspected Caleb would’ve tried something by now.” 

“Same.”

“But I still have a nagging feeling in my gut,” Julie admitted. Luke nodded, quiet for a moment. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. They held each other's gaze, and Julie’s hand felt right at home on his shoulder as she swayed. 

“There’s nothing to do about it now, though,” Luke reasoned, and Julie smiled, grinning wider when he twirled her. Her heart fluttered, but sank when Luke frowned. Half of his smile returned.

“We should probably trade off, now,” he sighed. Julie nodded disappointedly. Nobody could suspect that they didn’t want to go along with the arranged marriage. And besides, Luke might like her, but probably not how she liked him. He just cared about people’s reputations. 

She gave half a smile and twirled again, before someone took her wrist. 

“Your highness, may I have this dance?” The sickening voice of Caleb Covington filled Julie’s ears, and she wanted nothing more than to rip away from his clammy clutch and walk away. But this was for diplomacy, so she suppressed her shudder and offered a smile.

“Of course.”

“You know,” Covington said silkily, “this is a beautiful palace.” Julie nodded.

“Yes, I believe your grandfather helped my great-grandfather design it once we became allies,” she pointed out. “It has architectural properties that were inspired by Kryptonian styles, but was also its own thing.”

“Yes, one might say that,” Caleb agreed. “But, isn’t it ironic that my own grandfather, who was the king of the most prolific country in the world, held no reservations against designing a palace for a new ‘country’ that never should have existed?” Julie bit back a sarcastic remark. 

“With all due respect, your majesty”- she twirled, grateful for the moment without Caleb’s hand on her waist -”At that time, Dahlia had already been founded over a century earlier, and relations had stabled. Our resources were significant, and our citizens had settled in an unoccupied land. The Dahlian revolution was a revolution purely because Krypto’s king at the time was too stubborn in the years before his passing to let go.”

“You’ve studied your history, I see,” Caleb remarked. 

“I have been raised for this,” Julie agreed with half a smile, but it wasn’t genuine. “Your grandfather ascended over a century ago, and his goal was always peace, which was why he worked so hard to forge an allyship between Krypto and Dahlia. Relations have been stable between us ever since. We would rather keep it that way.”

“You know,” Caleb said with a click, “the funny thing about running a country is that you must always aim for growth. In that growth lies certain… growing pains, shall we say? Krypto is destined for greatness, and Dahlia is the rebellious teenager who was once an obedient child, and will soon be the respectful adult with familial ties.”

“Or,” Julie countered smoothly, “if you’re so set on growth, you could expand on uninhabited land. More resources means more wealth, and more land means more growth for your borders and space for your people. Holding onto a grudge that was resolved before you were born will only hold you back.”

She knew the words were risky, and might be perceived as disrespectful, but Caleb’s smirk grew into a laugh.

“My dear Julie, you are too smart for your own good. And yet,” he added, “there is still so much you don’t understand. You’re so young, I wouldn’t expect you to understand it in the first place.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I am just as qualified as anyone else in this room.” 

“But you don’t know what it’s like to lead a country on your own-”

“And I’ll never have to, because I have the sense to not distance myself from my people.”

“You’re marching into dangerous territory,” Covington warned, but Julie didn’t care. 

“Like I said,” she said with finality, “our goal is to resolve things peacefully and go back to our allyship. Please enjoy the ball.”

…

Julie had taken her chance to escape Caleb, and she was grateful that she did, because she got room to breathe, and got to hang out with her friends. 

She danced with Alex, chatting idly about the ball, and about a certain baker with whom Alex was absolutely smitten. She grinned to herself, asking questions to make sure that this baker was actually worthy of Alex. She knew he could be a bit… simpy, so she had to make sure she had the brain cell, and then approve of his future boyfriend. But, if Alex was to be believed, the baker - Willie, as she learned - was one of the sweetest people to ever walk the Earth, just shy of Reggie. So, Julie took his word for it. 

She twirled, letting the skirt of her dress flare outwards. 

“Okay, bro, that dress is amazing,” Alex noted. “It looks like the one you wore last week.”

“That’s because it is! Well, the same style at least. It’s a different color.”

“Well, same or different, it looks great.”

“Thanks,” she said with a grin. She noticed Alex’s eyes flicking around the room, scanning the people as if he was searching for someone.

“Looking for someone?” she asked, a shit-eating grin on her face. Alex’s face turned bright red as he stammered in denial. Julie laughed. 

“You know what? We’re done dancing, you can come back after you quit being an asshole,” he decided, flicking his wrist. Julie snorted; his gay panic was hilarious. 

She found herself dancing with Flynn, who gave her The Look, glancing at Luke, who was playfully dancing with Alex. They weren’t even dancing, it was more just… messing around in a rhythmic formation. But when Luke’s eyes caught Julie’s, she quickly looked away. Flynn rolled her eyes as she twirled Julie.

“Jules, I know I can’t yell at you about this since we’re at a ball, but come on. You have to know he’s absolutely smitten with you.” Julie sighed.

“Or he’s just a dork. Which is very, very possible. I mean, have you met him?”

“Then tell me why he doesn’t act like that around anybody else?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But even if he does like me, there’s nothing we can do about it. It would be a disaster.” 

“Jules, you have to go for what you want!” Flynn took a breath as she twirled, giving an awkward smile to anybody looking their way. “Talk to your dad,” she added quietly. 

“What? Flynn, are you fucking insane?” Julie looked around; it was her turn to give an awkward smile. “I can’t tell dad about this.” 

“Can’t tell me about what?” Ray’s voice was in a normal tone and volume, but he looked concerned as he walked towards them. “Mijas, are you alright?” Julie opened her mouth, trying to speak, glancing to Flynn.

“We’re fine,” she said at last. Ray quirked an eyebrow. 

“Honey, you know I would never judge you, right?” Julie sighed, letting Flynn hand her over to dance with her dad. 

“I know. It’s just…” she couldn’t find the right words. 

“Is this about Caleb? Did he do something to you?”

“No, no,” she assured him, “it’s not about that. It’s about something else.” Her heart sank when he looked down.

“The marriage?” he asked quietly. She sighed. 

“Yeah.” 

“I know.” 

“No, that’s the thing, dad, you don’t know. You know that Alex and I don’t want to get married, and I know that you tried to get us out of it, but it just hurts so much more now that…”

“No, mija, I know. You aren’t as subtle as you think.” Julie’s jaw dropped, and she stuttered for words, refusing to glance over to Luke. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally sighed, “I’m so, so sorry. This isn’t something you need added to your plate.”

“Julie, you have nothing to apologize for. I know you can’t control feelings. I’ve tried. Did I ever tell you how your mother and I met?” Julie shook her head. 

“She was about your age,” Ray began. “I met her at a cafe, while she was out in the city taking a break from being a princess. I didn’t even know it was her. But as soon as I did know, I immediately tried to ignore my feelings for her. But every time I saw her, I remembered her smile, and how kind she was when we spoke.

“Well, I would occasionally see her in person. We got to know each other, and no matter how much I tried to repress how I felt and insist that I just wanted to be friends with her, it didn’t work. But it all worked out in the end.”

“Yeah, well, Mom wasn’t in an arranged marriage. Her falling in love with you wasn’t treason.”

“Maybe, but…” Ray trailed off. “I’m still trying to get you out of it, I promise.”

“Thanks, Papá.”

“Of course. But you have my word that, should you choose to stand up and face these feelings, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I can’t promise that if people find out there won’t be trouble, but I’ll do anything I can.”

“Only if you extend the same courtesy to Alex,” Julie told him. “As well as whoever either of us might love.” He nodded.

“Of course, mija.” He pulled her in for a hug. “It’ll all be okay.” She nodded against his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

…

Julie was exhausted. She must’ve danced with everyone in attendance, plastering on a smile and talking about whatever. But now, she could’ve collapsed and fallen asleep. 

That is, until she heard the screaming. 

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her heart pounding in her ears as she ran to the end of the ballroom, stopping in her tracks when she saw Covington dramatically sitting in her father’s thronelike chair. He sat sideways, leaning on one armrest with his legs over the other, looking very pleased with himself. And next to him…

Next to him, all seven council members were trapped in their chairs, with daggers pressed to their throats. None of them made a sound, but the fear in their eyes was heartbreaking. Everyone in the ballroom shouted, screamed, and cried for justice.

“Like I said,” Covington shouted over the din, “you will either surrender peacefully to Kryptonian rule, or we will take it by force.”

…

A bomb. 

Julie could barely think. 

She took a deep breath, her hands shaking as she clenched them into fists and released, finally clearing her head. Normally she worked well under pressure, but this? This was something else entirely. 

The chaos of people shouting and running, trying to escape the ballroom gave her a chance to run for Carlos.

“JULIE!” he shouted, tears running down his face. Julie grabbed his wrist, running out the door of the ballroom. 

“I’m going to get more people out,” she said. “I want you to grab whoever you see on your way and run straight out the front gates as far as you can, okay? But-” Carlos shook his head, inhaling to interject, but Julie cut him off -”No, Carlos, listen to me. Do not try to be a hero. I want you to run as fast as you can, okay?”

Carlos finally nodded, wrapping Julie in a hug and leaving the chest of her dress soaked with tears. 

“I love you,” he choked out before running.

“I love you too,” she told him, never having meant the words more than she did in that moment. 

“Julie,” came Luke’s voice from behind her, his eyes filled with panic. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, traitorous tears finally leaking down her face. “You should be running, you should get out of here, get Alex, get Reggie, get anyone you can and get out!”

“No,” Luke said firmly, “I’m staying with you. But please, just-” 

“No! You need to get out of here! I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” Luke grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a supply closet as more people ran by. Julie gasped in the dark.

“Please,” he said as her eyes adjusted. “Please, Julie. In case I don't make it, there’s something you need to know.” He took a breath, but Julie cut him off.

“No, don’t even go there.” She shook her head, letting her curls fly in the air.  

“Please,” he whispered. Julie couldn’t speak, just shaking her head. More shouts and screams echoed from the hallway. Luke’s eyes met Julie’s, and she couldn’t find the right words to describe the intensity and swirling, indescribable emotions in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Then, Julie met him halfway. 

When her lips met his, they tasted salty from tears, and her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. His hand cupped her jaw, and she sank into the touch. 

“I had to do that,” he told her when they pulled away, another tear rolling down his face. “At least once.” 

Then, he ran out of the closet, nobody noticing within the chaos. Julie chased after him, running back into the mostly-empty ballroom. The Kryptonian representatives - or criminals - had let the council members go, and were running as fast as they could. A few Nobles were also running, but one line of Caleb’s kept echoing in Julie’s mind. 

“I guarantee that, should I press this button, he’ll be in the line of fire.”

Caleb was about to press the button. 

He was about to kill her father. 

“DAD!” she screamed. 

“JULIE!” it was Luke who shouted it, and Julie’s eyes blurred, spilling tears as she sobbed into his shoulder. 

“We have to get out of here,” he told her, and she nodded, running as fast as she could, her hand clasped in his. They’d made it to the front gates before the shockwave hit them, quickly followed by fire which licked at their skin, the heat making it hard to breathe; not that they were able to breathe, the shockwave having knocked the wind out of them. They flew down the steps, and Julie was barely able to roll in time to not break her neck. Luke was behind her, and she did her best to catch him as they scrambled, making it to the hill before blacking out. 

…

When Julie awoke, it was to her father’s voice, blinded by light and grief and hope. 

I’m dead, she thought. But the grass under her back was cold and wet and very much making a bruise form on her spine, and the whooshing air in her ears felt real as well, and the sound of people crying and talking was heartbreaking but brought her back to reality, however horrible it might’ve been. 

She blearily opened her eyes, seeing her dad and Carlos, ashen, dirty faces streaked with tears. They wrapped her in a hug, and she sobbed into their shoulders. 

“Dad-”

“I’m here, mija.”

“But I thought you were dead! Caleb said-”

“I was able to make it out,” he assured her. “I’m a little beaten up, but I’m alive.”

“Where’s Luke?” she asked, choked up with smoke and fear. 

“Right here.” Luke’s voice was choked up, and he wrapped her in a gentle hug. She cried into his shoulder for a moment.

“He’s okay,” Carlos said. “We’re okay.” Julie cried harder, standing and collapsing into Luke’s arms, running to Reggie and Carrie and Flynn and Mira and Erik and-

“Wait,” she said, trying to convince her eyes that she’d seen wrong. 

“Where’s Alex?”

“He’s okay,” Reggie said. Julie hadn’t even noticed that he’d walked away. But now, his face was covered with happy tears, and he had Alex’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, helping him walk with a sprained ankle. Julie rushed to him and hugged him as tightly as she could, finally letting her tears break free.

They were okay. 

-----

Luke POV

...

When Alex’s breathing quickened, Luke had a feeling this would be one of the worst panic attacks yet. So, it was no surprise when three fake sneezes echoed in the room, Luke was prepared to walk in and sit next to his best friend. 

He wrapped his arms around Alex, trying to calm his trembling. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, but Alex didn’t hear him. Luke kept holding him, trying to stay steady for him, letting Alex bury his head in his shoulder. He traced circles on Alex’s shoulder blades, thankful when he calmed a bit, but his breathing was rapid and shaky. 

“Everything will be okay, Lex,” he said. “I promise.”

Luke leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Alex’s temple, tracing gentle circles along his shoulders. 

“Just breathe,” he whispered. “It’ll be okay.” Alex hugged him tighter, and Luke patted his back.

“Sorry,” he choked out, and Luke immediately shook his head.

“Don’t be. This is a nerve-racking thing. I’m super nervous too.” It wasn’t a lie. Luke had always been good at holding himself together when he was scared or anxious, but he was still trembling. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Alex said dryly, wiping his tears. 

“Really?” Luke challenged, hating how his voice quivered, even though it proved his point. He showed Alex his shaking hands. “You’re not alone,” he reminded him. “I promise.”

“Thanks.” Then, it was Alex’s turn to wrap him in a hug, and Luke was surprised but comforted by it. He let himself sink into the embrace, sure he was shaking, but he didn’t care. That was his best friend, and he was warm, and Luke needed a hug. He held him tighter, shaking, finally letting go, his heart protesting the lack of hugs.

“Okay, it’s almost time. Let’s get ourselves fixed up.” Alex nodded, squeezing him tighter before letting go. Luke followed him to the bathroom, fixing his heather grey vest and readjusting his sleeves, fixing a loose strand of hair. 

Neither of them were ready, but they nodded to each other and walked to the ballroom. 

…

Luke was rather surprised when he saw that his assigned seat was between Julie and Alex. It would’ve made more sense for Julie to be next to Alex, since they were supposed to be getting married. Not that Luke was complaining, of course.

“How are you holding up?” he asked quietly.

“Alright,” Julie replied after hesitating. Luke knew it was a lie. “You?”

“Alright.” 

Luke’s eyes flickered to Caleb against his will. Something in his gut was nagging at him that something was wrong.

“Something seems off,” he murmured. “I’m not sure if he’s always like this, but my gut tells me something’s wrong.”

“I had the same feeling,” Julie admitted, confirming Luke’s anxieties. He did his best to calm the swelling bubble of worries in his stomach, taking another bite of his food. He heard Julie whisper to her dad, mentioning that she felt like something was off. Luke kept glancing at her, never lingering for more than a moment before looking away, usually to see if Caleb was still acting sketchy.

Of course, he was. 

Julie caught his eye, and he couldn’t ignore how nervous she looked. He bit his lip, hating how anxious this was all making her. She didn’t deserve this distress. Luke had to fight the urge to reach and take her hand; even under the table, it would be a super risky move.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” he finally said. “He’s probably plotting what ridiculous outfit he’ll wear tomorrow.” Luke grinned when she laughed, for once not minding the butterflies in his stomach and how his heart started doing flips when she smiled. 

When the dancing started, Julie went to the large floor, speaking cordially with Nobles, and Luke was entranced. She flitted around the room like a butterfly. Her sparkly dress caught the light as she twirled, and the violet coloring made her look like she’d been dipped in twilight, with the softness of the clouds but the ferocity of a raging hurricane, the strength of a rushing river but the gentle touch of a feathery breeze. 

Luke stood at the edge of the floor, dancing with many people, including an overeager middle school girl who was both shy and enthusiastic. He gave her a smile and moved on to the next person. 

At some point, he ended up dancing with Mira, whose shimmery aquamarine gown had flecks of gold sewn in, glinting in the light. But he kept trying to subtly spot Julie in the crowd. Mira laughed.

“Dude, you’re killing me,” she said with an exasperated grin. “Go find her and ask her to dance!” Luke shook his head.

“We’re in a public setting,” he reasoned. It definitely wasn’t because of the nerves swelling in his chest. The eye roll Mira gave him was legendary. 

“And? It’s a ball! People dance! Alex has had to dance with a ton of people already, but nobody suspects him of treason, right? So who’s to say you can’t dance with Jules?” Luke sighed. 

“I know, I know, it’s just…” he trailed off, searching for the right words as he twirled Mira. “I feel weird,” he told her. “I’m normally really confident and can just go for things, but for some reason I just… can’t. I hate this feeling,” he added. “Nervousness does not fit me.” 

“It doesn’t,” Mira agreed. “But it is sweet. And I can guarantee you that she wants to dance with you too.” Luke’s eyes widened.

“How do you know? Wait,” he said, a huge grin spreading on his face as he lowered his voice, “do you think she likes me like I like her?” He shook his head, trying to get rid of those horrible, treasonous thoughts.

“I’m not going to betray Julie’s trust,” Mira said, “but I am going to call you an oblivious, pining dumbass.” When Luke didn’t respond, she added, “get it together! Go tell her how you feel!”

“I can’t do that,” he sighed. “Even if I really, really want to. We both know what would happen, Mira.”

“I know, I just…” Mira sighed. “I hate seeing her so doubtful. She’s confident in herself, and she doesn’t need a guy to tell her she’s amazing. But watching one of my best friends wonder whether someone she’s totally gone for feels the same, asking herself why would he be, when the answer is so obvious… I just hate it. You make her happy, Patterson.” Mira twirled, giving him a knowing look. “And I know she makes you happy, too.

“Things are happening, and the situation is awful,” she told him, giving a smile and encouraging nod to the other side of the ballroom. “Make sure it’s worth it.”

And then she was gone, having vanished into the crowd, leaving Luke with a goal and a pounding heart. 

But he wasn’t a quitter, so he made his way across the room, his heart fluttering when he found Julie. 

“My lady,” he said with a grin, dipped in a bow. “May I have this dance?” 

He heard Julie laugh, briefly saw her head bounce in a nod, and then her hand was in his. Everywhere she touched felt warm and cold at the same time, and Luke smiled to himself as he pulled her closer, gently putting his hand on her waist as they danced. 

Julie’s eyes shone in the light, deep brown with flecks of inky black and shimmering gold. 

“I’m surprised at how well this has gone so far,” he said. Julie nodded, glancing around.

“I half suspected Caleb would’ve tried something by now.” Luke agreed.

“Same.”

“But I still have a nagging feeling in my gut,” Julie admitted. He nodded, smiling at her. The butterflies in his stomach were steady but light, and the small pressure of her hand on his shoulder kept him grounded. He had a feeling he would’ve floated away otherwise. 

“There’s nothing to do about it now, though,” Luke reasoned, and Julie smiled, grinning wider when he twirled her. Luke noticed Covington staring at him, a frown on his face and one eyebrow quirked. Luke’s face fell.

“We should probably trade off now.” He hated the coldness in his hand and on his shoulder as she let go, hated Julie’s disappointed frown, and most of all, he hated Caleb’s slimy smile as he took Julie’s wrist, and how pleased with himself he looked when she danced with him out of politeness. Luke could see how uncomfortable she was. Her whole body tensed, and her smile was extremely forced. He wanted nothing more than to get him away from her, to get him to stop touching her when she clearly wasn’t okay with it. But that would’ve caused a huge spectacle, and Julie wouldn’t want him to cause drama. So he walked away. 

…

When the screaming began, Luke’s stomach dropped. 

Then when he turned and saw all seven council members with daggers pressed to their throats, he nearly vomited. 

And when Caleb pulled out a small remote, threatening to detonate a bomb, anger contorted all of his features, his fists shaking, fingers tracing the outlines of two daggers inside his vest. His eyes flicked to Reggie, then Alex, then Julie, all of whom were terrified, confused, and angry.

“You’re bluffing,” someone called from the audience after Caleb made his threat about the bomb. “You’re in this room too.” Luke nodded. 

“Am I?” Caleb challenged, and it took Luke a moment to realize that he was a hologram. A terrifyingly real one, too. 

“Yes,” Caleb remarked. “You probably didn’t notice my brief trip to the restroom earlier, but that wasn’t actually a restroom trip. I’m far away by now.”

“But what about your representatives?” Reggie asked. 

“Acceptable losses. These aren’t actually representatives, they’re criminals who have been offered the chance of a full pardon if things don't go south. They have, however, been made very clear of the other possibility.” 

“You might notice that your king is not in the room,” Caleb added, and Luke gasped, running to Julie, whispering that it would be okay. She barely noticed him. 

“What did you do to my dad?” she shouted, her hands clenched in fists, shaking, a couple tears running down her face. 

“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Caleb said. “But I guarantee that, should I press this button, he’ll be in the line of fire.”

Furious shouts echoed in the huge room, large in part from Luke himself. Jule shrugged his hand off her shoulder, stepping up to the royals’ table. 

“Leave my people alone. Get out of our kingdom,” she instructed. “You have no place here.”

“Yeah,” Reggie interjected. “We’re not going to abandon our people, no matter how much you want us to.” 

“You can’t make us surrender,” Luke added loudly, squaring his shoulders. 

“I truly hate to do this,” Caleb said, without an ounce of sorrow in his voice. “But you leave me no choice.” 

Luke sprinted towards the doors next to Julie.

“I’m sorry, everyone,” Caleb added maliciously. Everyone was running and screaming, bustling through the doors, 

“Everyone get out of here, now!” Luke’s voice was louder than he’d ever known it could be, or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He ran out the door, ushering people away, directing them to the nearest exit and telling them to run as far as they could. But his mind was still on Julie.

He searched the crowd, craning his neck before he found her talking to Carlos and hugging her. He raced towards her.

“Julie,” he said quietly. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. “You should be running, you should get out of here, get Alex, get Reggie, get anyone you can and get out!” Luke shook his head.

“No,” Luke said firmly, “I’m staying with you. But please, just-” 

“No! You need to get out of here! I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” Luke grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a supply closet as more people ran by, hating the way he was shaking.

“Please,” he said, blinking as his eyes adjusted, and blinking back tears. “Please, Julie. In case I don't make it, there’s something you need to know.” He took a breath, but Julie cut him off.

“No, don’t even go there.” She shook her head, but Luke couldn’t think.

“Please,” he whispered. He looked at her, trying to take in every beautiful detail; the deep brown of her eyes, the curls of hair draped over her shoulders, the small gap in her teeth, the curve of her collarbone, the beautiful melody of her voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Julie leaned forward as he did, and then his lips were on hers. The kiss was brief and tasted like chocolate, full of all the emotions he couldn’t find the words for. She kissed him back, and he couldn’t explain how much it hurt knowing that it might be the last time.

“I had to do that,” he whispered when they pulled away, another tear rolling down his face. “At least once.” 

Then, he ran out of the closet, right into the mostly-empty ballroom to get everybody out and search for Ray. Caleb’s hologram smiled maliciously at him. Luke ignored it, running and helping people up as they fell, before Julie’s voice pierced the air. 

“DAD!” she screamed. No! Why was she here? She was supposed to run!

“JULIE!” he shouted, running to her.

“We have to get out of here,” he said, and thankfully she didn’t protest. She took his hand and he ran with her as fast as he could without pulling her over, making it to the front gates when the shockwave hit him. Heat from the raging fire burned the air and made it impossible to breathe, and Luke did his best to land steadily as Julie caught him after rolling. He ran as fast as he could, and everything seemed to move in slow motion as he looked back at Julie, her hand slipping from his, the final shockwave blasting him backwards.

He was blacked out before he hit the ground. 

…

When Luke awoke, he coughed, pain in his chest from the smoke and debris. His head was pounding, a drop of blood rolling down his cheek. As he sat up, a sharp pain in his shoulder told him he’d dislocated it. He grimaced, testing it; thankfully it wasn’t severe, and he bit down on torn fabric of his vest as he popped it back into place, using the rest as a sling he hastily tied. 

He stood, running down the pile of debris as he found Reggie. 

“REGGIE!” he shouted, running as fast as he could. Reggie’s face was streaked with tears, and he ran to him. Luke wrapped him in a one-armed hug, a sob escaping his lips. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. Reggie nodded. 

“I’m okay,” he choked out. “Sprained my wrist, but I’m okay.” 

“Where’s Julie?” he asked, looking around. 

“She’s okay, don’t worry,” Reggie told him, another tear streaking down the dust on his face. “But we haven’t found Alex yet.” Luke’s stomach dropped.

He was supposed to be Alex’s guard. He was supposed to protect him, and now he might not even be alive. Luke’s eyes blurred with tears and his chest heaved with sobs. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s…” Reggie trailed off. “We haven’t searched all of the grounds yet, so there’s still a good chance he’s alright and we just haven’t found him.” The words helped, but Luke couldn’t stop crying. Alex was missing. 

“Ray’s also alive,” Reggie added, and Luke was shocked enough to dry his tears. 

“But I thought-”

“He made it, somehow.” Reggie’s laugh was incredulous. “Everyone else is okay, too.” 

But not Alex. 

…

Luke practically flew down the hill to Julie, who was still passed out, her gown tattered and skin covered in soot and dust. A few streaks of blood marred her arms, but she seemed okay other than that, and Luke was too relieved to explain when he noticed that her breathing was steady. 

Ray wrapped him in a hug, which took Luke by surprise, but he hugged back. 

“I’m so sorry, mijo,” he said. “I should’ve-”

“No,” Luke said. “No, you did everything you could’ve. And we just need to find Alex.” He willed the words to be true, but Ray shook his head. 

“There were four casualties,” he whispered. “Four of my people, gone, because I couldn’t…”

“That was not your fault,” Luke told him sharply. “You hear me? Not. Your. Fault. It was Covington who did that, not you. You did everything you could.” Ray nodded.

“Okay.” He shook more, but stood, patting Luke on the shoulders, looking back down to Julie. Flynn was knelt next to her, holding her hand and whispering for her to please wake up. 

“She’s okay,” Luke whispered to himself. Then, he noticed Reggie was gone, and-

When he looked up the hill, he saw Reggie with a familiar tall, blonde boy in a torn blue suit.

“ALEX!” Luke ignored the pain in his shoulder as he bolted, running and tackling his best friend in a hug. He choked back sobs, but some tears still made their way through. “We thought you were-”

“I’m okay,” Alex said. “I’m okay.” Luke nodded into his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, man, I should’ve been with you, I should’ve-”

 “No,” Alex said. “We’re okay. You have nothing to apologize for.” Luke nodded. 

“Everyone else is okay, too,” he said. “Come on.” 

Luke ran back down the hill, followed by Alex and Reggie. But Luke sprinted as fast as he could when he noticed that Julie was stirring. He blinked back tears, a huge grin on his face.

“Where’s Luke?” he heard her ask. 

“Right here.” He leaned down and gently wrapped her in a hug, helping her up. She was shaky but didn’t fall, finally tackling him in a huge hug, crying into his shoulder. Luke cried into the top of her head, pressing a kiss to her hair, not caring who was watching. He let her to the others. 

“Where’s Alex?” she asked, her voice trembling. 

“He’s okay,” Reggie said from a few feet away as he helped Alex, who seemed to have sprained his ankle.

“We’re all okay,” Luke told her, wrapping them all in a giant hug.

We’re okay. 

-----

Reggie POV

…

Reggie’s hands shook as he fastened the buttons on his silky red vest, adjusting and readjusting the dark sleeves of his shirt. He took a deep breath, stretching and grabbing his bass to calm him down. He ran through the notes for Icarus, sliding down the A string and adding in some extra notes for funsies. He grinned to himself as he spun, tapping his foot with the music. 

Humming to himself, Reggie glanced out the window. The sun hadn’t set, but it was going to soon. It was retreating west, preparing to dive behind the mountains. And the time on his phone told him that he needed to be in the ballroom in ten minutes. He sighed and decided to go now. It was on the other side of the palace, and he might as well go early. 

…

When Reggie had settled into his seat next to Ray, Councilwoman Noah soon sat next to him. 

“Hi, Reggie,” she said with a smile. “How are you?”

“Pretty nervous,” he admitted, “but excited. I love balls. They’re so fun, even if we have to dress all fancy.” Councilwoman Noah laughed.

“Well, you look wonderful,” she told him. Reggie beamed. 

“Thanks! You do too!” 

“Thanks, hon.” She shook her head wistfully. “You’re so young. You shouldn’t have to deal with such a stressful situation,” Noah said. “None of you should.” Reggie knew she was thinking about Flynn.

“Flynn’s strong,” he reminded her. “And she’s Julie’s best friend. Plus, she knows that she doesn’t have to deal with all of the stress. She does it because she can handle it, and because she wants to.” Noah nodded. 

“Plus, she probably likes being able to say she’s best friends with the princess,” he added as an afterthought. Councilwoman Noah laughed, and Reggie felt very accomplished. 

“Thanks. I always have to remind myself that she’s grown up,” she admitted. “It feels like only yesterday her hair was just long enough to braid.”

“I know,” Reggie said. “Even though Julie’s only a year younger than me, every time I see her in the meeting room, I worry that she’s going to get too stressed. I don’t know how she handles it.”

“She’ll make a great queen one day,” Noah said softly. Reggie nodded. 

“Yeah. She will.” 

…

The food was delicious. Reggie couldn’t help but smile as he finished, leaving room for dessert. He might’ve been a prince, but he had his priorities in order. And dessert was very high up there. 

As people began mingling before dessert, Reggie wandered around as well, chatting with random Nobles. Lady Cadence asked how his music was going. Sir Blake quipped about the ironic circumstances of such a wonderful event. Mx. Genevieve brought up some interesting points about constitutional technicalities that Reggie would be sure to bring up when they met with Covington; something about allyship and unnecessary tension. Xe’d suggested that Reggie write it down; xe was one of Ray’s close friends, so xe knew about Reggie’s ADHD. It was probably a good idea, too, so Reggie took xer advice and jotted it down in his notes app. 

Then, dessert was served, and Reggie was in heaven with the mini cupcakes. They were red velvet with cream cheese frosting, and he probably ate more than he should’ve, but if he did, that was nobody’s business but his. 

That’s code for, yes, he did eat too many cupcakes. 

Soon, the dancing began. Reggie loved dancing. Didn’t matter what kind, either; he would waltz in the ballroom, jump around whilst playing the bass, twirl around the studio as Julie played the piano, or dance by himself in the middle of the night with his earbuds in. 

Reggie made his way to the open floor, cordially waltzing with random Nobles who wanted to know more about the current political situation, dancing with Alex to hype him up and reassure him everything would be okay, twirling Julie to give her a break from stuffy Nobles who kept pestering her, and letting Carlos stand on his toes as they danced, chatting animatedly about Minecraft and Star Wars. 

Carlos eventually left to go dance with Nick’s younger sister, Annie Danforth-Evans. They were the same age, and Reggie definitely didn’t miss Annie’s blush when Carlos twirled her. He grinned to himself and kept dancing around the ballroom. 

…

When the shouting started, Reggie’s mind flashed back to the day he ran away.

It was a cold, rainy day in October. Reggie’s parents had been fighting more and more for months, and it had gotten so bad that he couldn’t fall asleep at night without wondering when he would be woken up at some early hour by shouts and screams. A stray piece of stuffing floated in the corner of his eye. It was from a small stuffed penguin he’d had, one that he hadn’t seen in weeks after one of his parents’ fights. 

It was early evening, though the dark, cloudy sky and pouring rain could’ve fooled someone into thinking it was night. His parents were screaming at each other again, and Reggie was wrapped in a blanket and huddled in the corner of his bedroom, surrounded by pillows from his unmade bed, trying to focus on the sound of the rain instead of the cruel words from the living room. 

He blinked back tears and sucked on the inside of his lip. There was a swollen patch of skin next to his teeth. He never bit it, just sucked on it to give him something to do instead of trying to speak. His ear was pressed to the window, sending a numbing chill through his head and making his ear hurt, but it made it easier to let the sounds of the torrential storm drown out his parents’ argument. 

When the sound of a shattering glass caught Reggie’s attention, he jumped and whimpered, his tiny hands clutching into fists. He couldn’t take this. 

Gathering up a drawstring bag, he stuffed in the tattered blanket, a small first-aid kit, his favorite book, and an extra hoodie. It was a little small, but it was warm. He put on his bigger hoodie, a thick grey one with a big pocket over the stomach, put up the hood, and shoved earplugs into his ears. He struggled to tie his beat-up converse and peeked out the door, running out the front door when they started shouting especially loud. He doubted they heard the quick, quiet opening and closing from the entryway, but if they did, they didn’t bother investigating. 

Reggie ran. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but he knew the city well enough to find a familiar bench that was shaded by the roof of a cafe. He sat, grateful for the dry area, ignoring the cold wind on his nose. Huddled with his knees to his chest, earplugs making him deaf to the world, he didn’t notice the old woman handing him a small bag with a cinnamon roll inside of it until she tapped his shoulder. He jumped, flinching but quickly recovering. He mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ to her, digging into the sweet pastry. Looking back on it, it probably wasn’t a good idea to accept food from a stranger, but the pangs of hunger in his stomach said otherwise. 

He’d dozed off, using the drawstring bag as a pillow as he laid across the bench, when a gentle hand on his shoulder startled him awake. 

‘Are you okay?’ the man asked. ‘Where are your parents?’ Reggie looked down. 

‘I ran away,” he whispered. 

‘Why?’ 

‘They kept yelling,’ he sniffed, ‘and I hated it. They never stop.’ Worry and confusion and a little bit of anger showed on the man’s face, and Reggie retracted a couple inches, before the man knelt down. 

‘Is it okay if I give you a hug?’ he asked. Reggie nodded, hesitating for a moment. But when the man’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, his own skinny arms bolted up and wrapped around his neck, and before he knew it, he was crying into his shoulder, letting the man gently pat his back. 

‘Do you know who I am, mijo?’ he asked. Reggie shook his head. He looked familiar, but his head was too muddled to place him. 

‘I’m King Ray,’ he said. Reggie scrambled into a bow, but Ray’s hands immediately steadied him. ‘Everything’s okay,’ he assured him. ‘If you don’t want to go back to your parents, I could bring you to the palace,’ he offered. Reggie’s eyes lit up. 

‘Really?’

‘Yeah! You could meet Queen Rose and my daughter, Julie. She’s about your age. You’d love her.’ He stood, offering his hand. Reggie hesitated but took it, a slow smile on his face.

Ever since that day, he hadn’t heard his parents shouts, because he hadn’t actually seen them. But Ray was the best father he could’ve ever asked for. 

These furious shouts from the ballroom brought back that one memory, and even though it happened in a split second, he felt every effect in its whole, and it struck him like a well-aimed blow. But he was distracted by the sight before him.

All seven council members with daggers to their throats. 

Reggie wasn’t sure what he was feeling at that moment. It was a mix of confusion, anger, fear, and resolve, though that might’ve just been the adrenaline. 

“Like I said,” Covington shouted over the rising screams of everyone in the room, “you will either surrender peacefully to Kryptonian rule, or we will take it by force.”

More shouts echoed throughout the huge ballroom, arguments and cries of fear, anger, and betrayal. Some bakers and chefs snuck in from the kitchens and saved the council members, which was a huge relief. But when Covington pulled the small remote out of his pocket, and revealed that he was a hologram, everything silenced in Reggie’s ears.

Reggie had heard of seeing red, but this wasn’t the passionate scarlet of anger. This was pure, black, hate. Covington was threatening his people, including the people he cared most about in the entire world. Julie and Carlos, Luke and Alex, Erik, Mira, Carrie and Flynn, and the entire council.  His hands clenched into fists.

“But what about your representatives?” Reggie finally asked. Surely Covington wouldn’t be willing to kill his own people of such high ranking. 

“Acceptable losses. These aren’t actually representatives, they’re criminals who have been offered the chance of a full pardon if things don't go south. They have, however, been made very clear of the other possibility.” Reggie’s stomach dropped. Nobody deserved a death penalty, and given his impressions of Covington, he doubted their crimes were even that severe. 

“You might notice that your king is not in the room,” Caleb added, Reggie’s heart plummeted. Tears welled in his eyes.

Ray. 

“What did you do to my dad?” Julie yelled, being held back by Luke.

“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Caleb said. “But I guarantee that, should I press this button, he’ll be in the line of fire.”

Furious shouts echoed in the huge room, and Reggie was one of the loudest among them despite his aversion to raising his voice. Covington didn’t get to waltz into Dahlia, declare war, and threaten all of these people and just get away with it. He didn’t get to threaten Reggie’s own family without facing consequences.

“Leave my people alone. Get out of our kingdom,” Julie instructed angrily, her voice clear and sharp as a dagger. “You have no place here.”

“Yeah,” Reggie interjected. “We’re not going to abandon our people, no matter how much you want us to.” It wasn’t a lie, either; Reggie was a sincere person, but he’d never meant anything as much as he meant those words. He would not give up on his people. Not ever.

And he wouldn’t give up on his family, either. 

“I truly hate to do this,” Covington said, and Reggie was pretty sure his stomach was at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. But he sprinted to the doors, hauling them open and helping people out as they ran. 

“Everyone out!” he called desperately, tears rimming his vision. “Get as far away as you can.”

“Your highness, where should we go?” Lady Sierra asked, her voice terrified. 

“Run out the front gates,” he instructed, “then through the city. It’s late, but it isn’t raining. Just be careful.” He patted her shoulder and rushed past her, picking up a small child, barely older than six, who was struggling to hold on to his mother’s hand in the chaos. 

“I’ve got him,” he called to her, calming her frantic shouts for her son. Reggie cradled him as gently as he could, bearing a few bruises as he guarded the child from the stampede of terrified Nobles. He ran as quickly as he could and handed him over to his mother, sprinting along the side of the hallway and opening more doors, yelling into the kitchens to any chefs still in there to get out. He did the same as he passed the guards’ quarters, gesturing wildly and helping people out as they jumped from their beds. 

Reggie found Carlos as he ran to the front gate, wrapping him in a huge hug and picking him up over his shoulders, his legs carrying him as fast as he could possibly run. Bounding out the front gate, Carlos over his shoulder, he made it down the hill and put him down. 

“Lead the others as far away as you can, okay?” Carlos nodded, wrapping him in a quick hug.

“I love you,” he said. Reggie nodded.

“Love you too. Now go!” When Carlos took off, Reggie bounded backwards towards the hill. 

“Run through the city,” he instructed as loudly as he could. “Just go straight but keep the palace in view, then wait for further instructions.” People nodded as they ran, and Reggie directed them in the way Carlos had gone. 

“It’ll be okay,” he assured a sobbing woman as she jogged past him. But the tremble in his voice probably wasn’t very convincing. 

Neither was the shockwave that knocked them backwards.

Reggie’s ears were both ringing and silent. He couldn’t tell when or even if he hit the ground, though he had to have, if the sudden blast of cold on his back was any indication, same with the sharp pain on his wrist. It took a moment, but he was finally able to open his eyes, quickly shutting them as a tiny piece of concrete flew over him and sliced open his forehead. He groaned, reaching up to test the wound. It didn’t feel that deep, thankfully, but his dusty fingers still came away streaked with blood. And when he looked back up the hill…

He’d been lucky enough to avoid the fire. His clothes were torn but not singed like so many others. Reggie stood shakily, jumping over bits of debris as he raced back up the hill. 

“JULIE?” he shouted, looking around. “ALEX? LUKE? ERIK?” His shouting didn’t seem to be of any use until he heard a familiar voice to his right. 

“REGGIE?” it called. His head whipped around, worsening his headache, but he didn’t care, because Erik’s tarnished but handsome face was visible across the hill. 

“ERIK!” Reggie sprinted to him, tackling him in a hug, trying to choke back his tears. “I’m so sorry, I-” 

“No,” Erik whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Everything’s okay, I promise.” Reggie nodded into his shoulder. 

“Guys?” someone called. When Reggie’s eyes snapped open to a familiar redheaded girl in a tattered aquamarine dress, a grin broke out on his face. 

“Mira!” They both ran to her, picking her up in a hug and spinning. Reggie pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Erik told her, and Reggie nodded his agreement. 

“Me too,” she whispered, smudging the soot on her face as she wiped away tears. “We should look for others.” Reggie nodded, blinking back more tears as he let go, scanning around him. Dozens of battered but breathing Nobles were littered around the field, sitting, standing, and walking, helping each other. 

“Are you okay?” Reggie asked Mx. Genevieve, helping xem up. 

“I think so,” xe coughed. “My head hurts, but I guess that’s to be expected after a bomb.”

“Probably.” Reggie made sure they were steady. “Make sure you’re alright, then try to help anyone else you find, okay? I’m doing the same.” Xe nodded, patting his shoulder. 

As he searched more rubble, he found Flynn and Carrie, clinging to each other and shaking behind a huge piece of debris. They were rattled but uninjured, thankfully. And soon, he found Julie, passed out near the stairs, the violet tulle and silk of her dress torn and dirty. He scooped her up as gently as he could, brushing a curl off her face. She coughed, and Reggie half-hoped she would wake up, but she stayed asleep.

“REGGIE!” His head whipped towards the familiar sound of Carlos’s voice, as well as the voices of the other Nobles who’d escaped in time, rushing back to the palace. He gently set down Julie, leaving her with Mira, and took off towards Carlos, who jumped into his arms. 

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. Reggie nodded. 

“I’m okay,” he confirmed. “And hey, if Han Solo can survive it, so can we.” Carlos laughed, but there were still tears streaming down his face. And they just quickened, until they heard an impossibly amazing voice behind them.

“Mijos?” Ray asked, coughing up dust.

“DAD!” they shouted, running to him, hugging him gently but tightly. Reggie sobbed into his chest. 

“We thought you were-”

“I’m okay,” he assured them. “Just a bit rattled. Where’s Julie?”

“She’s over there,” he pointed. “By the stairs.”

“I’ve been around the back of the damage site,” Ray explained, “which is why I hadn’t seen you yet. Almost everyone is okay, which is a relief, but…” he waited until Carlos had walked out of earshot before adding, “there were four confirmed casualties.” Reggie’s heart shattered.

“No,” he whispered. “No, that can’t be right, everyone-”

“It’s nobody we knew,” Ray added, but his eyes glistened with melancholy. Reggie nodded, hugging him again. 

“Can you take me to see Julie?” he asked. Reggie nodded, taking his hand and leading him to the small, clear patch he’d set her down in. Mira and Flynn were both by her side. 

“Has she woken up?” Ray asked. Reggie noticed the looks of shock on the girls’ faces, but they didn’t say anything, just shaking their heads. 

…

Finding Alex and Luke had been a huge relief, and when Julie woke up, something in Reggie’s heart clicked into place. 

There were shattered pieces of hearts throughout their family, found or blood, but those pieces combined into a beautiful mosaic of people who were scarred but lovely, bruised but kind, and loved each other with a passion and gentle nature that would bring them closer. 

----- 

Willie POV

...

“Okay,” Lilian called through the large room full of bakers and chefs, “get to your usual posts and finish up any extra dishes for tonight. Then, Alyssa, Conley, Ever, Jenna, Mark, Tori, Aaliyah, and CoCo, you’re in charge of distribution and waiting during the ball. Everyone else, be on standby, but if things go smoothly, you should be able to have an early night.” Willie smiled, but his heart fell.

He’d really hoped he’d be chosen to go to the ball and wait tables. He knew it was stupid, but he really wanted to see Alex. Even if they wouldn’t get to interact, it still would’ve been nice. And he’d spent the whole time he was baking thinking through tons of what-ifs. What if Alex noticed him there? What if they got to chat? If he was lucky, what if they got to dance? What if…

Willie shut down the thoughts. It wasn’t happening anyway. 

He redid his hair in the knot at the nape of his neck, sighing and heading back to the kitchens to make sure the cupcakes were perfect. They were, of course; he’d practiced piping cupcakes since he was little. Eva always loved cupcakes. Her favorite of his were the lemon ones, with the yellow and pink sprinkles. He’d made them on her eighth birthday, and her face lit up when he brought them out, complete with striped candles. Willie grinned at the memory of her trying to blow them out with her missing two front teeth, singing, ‘happy birthday to me, I’m a hundred and three, I’m getting tho old and thoon I’ll be wrinkly!’ It wasn’t the same song that a lot of kids sang, but it was Eva’s. She refused to sing it any other way. Of course, Willie still teased her about her then-inability to pronounce her S’s, and any time it was her birthday, he’d say ‘it’th your birthday, Eva! You’re getting tho old, thoon you’ll be wrinkly!’ It drove her absolutely insane. 

Willie missed those days. 

…

The ball seemed to be going smoothly, so Willie took it upon himself to make a batch of key lime tarts. He hummed to himself, letting his mind wander to all sorts of things (Alex, mostly), shaping the dough into the tins.

That was, until he heard the screaming. 

His stomach dropped and he dashed to the other side of the kitchen, where Alyssa was standing in a defensive position as if someone was about to attack her. Willie joined her, before Lilian snuck back in through the back door. She didn’t say a word, but pointed Alyssa to the frying pan shelf and Willie…

To the knife rack. 

Willie’s hands shook and a cold sweat dripped down his back, but he obeyed Lilian’s grim nod and took one, gripping it in his palm and watching light glint on the blade. He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. 

Lilian led everyone in the kitchens to the door, surreptitiously walking out in a single-file line, all the way down the hall to the ballroom. Willie never knew Lilian could be so silent; her steps were completely inaudible. 

As Lilian pushed open the door, eyes flicked their way, and Willie silenced his breathing as he searched for a familiar blue-green-grey pair. And when he finally found them, they were fraught with terror, hope, confusion, and something else that Willie couldn’t quite place. Something lighter but heavier at the same time. 

Alex gave him the tiniest of head-shakes, but he was too far in to stop. 

I’m sorry, Willie mouthed. I care about you, Alex. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d been able to understand what he so desperately wanted to tell him, but Willie did see a resigned nod and a plea for him to be careful coming from Alex’s direction. 

Things seemed to move in slow motion. By some miracle, Covington, who was draped over King Ray’s throne, didn’t notice the nervous glances their way. He shouldn’t have been surprised, though; he was a very self-absorbed person. 

Then, all hell broke loose when Alyssa and six other cooks brought down their pans on the representatives’ heads at once, knocking them out cold and freeing the council members. Willie’s heart raced as he hid behind the throne as Lilian trained her knife on Covington’s back. He was astonished at how steady her voice was, how tall she stood (not just because she was over six feet; she was scarily confident). 

“Or,” she said smoothly, “you could surrender, and go back to your own country.” The knife in her hand didn’t waver, but Covington recoiled. He hadn’t heard her coming. Willie took his chance and got on the other side, his knife pointed at Covington as well. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to use it.

“Don’t hurt these people,” he instructed, proud of how clear and steady his own voice was. 

“A few bakers trying to save their precious leaders,” Caleb purred, but the malice in his voice was like venom. “How sweet. Unfortunately for you, I have this”- he pulled a small remote out of his pocket -”and while I would rather not use it, I will if I must.” Willie’s heart leaped to his throat, and he was achingly aware of the sweat on his back, the curl of hair that had loosened from his bun, the pebble in his shoe.

None of that compared to what he would soon feel if Covington pressed that button, though. Willie had never seen one before, but he knew exactly what it was.

A bomb.

The next minute was chaos. His knife clattered to the floor, heart pounding in his ears, and he jumped backwards, hating his fearful reaction. Lilian, to her credit, held her ground nicely, but the tension in her shoulders had returned in full effect, and her eyebrows creased in the middle. 

“That’s right,” Caleb said over the terrified screams, people running for the doors. “If any of you here have any sense, you’ll run. You shouldn’t have to, of course, but if your leaders continue to be stubborn, it might be for the best.” Willie shook his head. Covington wouldn’t just… do that. 

“You’re bluffing,” someone called from the audience. “You’re in this room too.”

“Am I?” Caleb challenged, and Willie could’ve sworn he’d seen wrong, but he didn’t. A flicker of transparency, proving that Covington was actually somewhere else. 

A hologram. 

“Yes,” Caleb remarked. “You probably didn’t notice my brief trip to the restroom earlier, but that wasn’t actually a restroom trip. I’m far away by now.”

“But what about your representatives?” a man asked. Willie recognized him as Princess Julie’s older brother, though he couldn’t remember his name.

“Acceptable losses. These aren’t actually representatives, they’re criminals who have been offered the chance of a full pardon if things don't go south. They have, however, been made very clear of the other possibility.” Willie’s hands curled into fists. Was he really willing to just… sacrifice those people? Criminals or not, Willie couldn’t stomach the idea of sacrificing seven people. 

“You might notice that your king is not in the room,” Caleb added, and Willie’s stomach dropped. 

“What did you do to my dad?” Julie shouted, her hands clenched in fists, shaking. Willie scanned the crowd, but didn’t find the king. 

“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Caleb said. “But I guarantee that, should I press this button, he’ll be in the line of fire.”

Furious shouts echoed in the huge room, and Willie watched as Princess Julie walked towards the royals’ table, getting in Covington’s face. Willie ducked his head in a bow.  

“Leave my people alone.” Her voice was cold, harsh, but clear and steady. “Get out of our kingdom. You have no place here.”

“Yeah,” her brother interjected. “We’re not going to abandon our people, no matter how much you want us to.” Willie nodded

“You can’t make us surrender,” another man informed Covington. Alex nodded, standing as tall as he could, and Willie tried to do the same, swallowing the bile rising in his throat.

“I truly hate to do this,” Caleb said, without an ounce of sorrow in his voice. “But you leave me no choice.” 

“NO,” Alex yelled, and Willie’s stomach dropped. His eyes darted to Alex, wide with fear. If Alex…

Willie shoved away the thought.

“I’m sorry, everyone,” Caleb added maliciously. Everyone was running and screaming, bustling through the doors, and Willie did his best to get people out. 

“LILIAN!” he screamed, rushing to her. “Grab Alyssa and the others, then get out as fast as you can!” She shook her head. 

“No, you need to leave too,” she told him. Willie shook his head.

“I’m going to try to get people out of here,” he decided. “I can run fast, don’t worry.”

“What are the odds of getting you to listen to me?”

“Slim to none.” Lilian sighed.

“Be fast.” He nodded, patting her shoulder and letting her dash away. 

Willie sprinted to the hallway outside the ballroom, shouting for people to get out of there, searching for Alex. Hopefully, he’d run, and would be far away by the time Covington made good on his promise. 

But, of course, a familiar voice echoed through his ears.

“WILLIE!” Alex sprinted to him, and Willie’s eyes widened. 

“GO! GET OUT OF HERE!” he said, trying to urge Alex out. “You need to get out before this place blows!” Tears streamed down his face but he ignored them, running to Alex. 

When the shockwave hit him, he was a few meters away from the man he was trying to reach. Willie was pretty sure he’d phased into a different dimension when it passed through his head, leaving it fuzzy and burning but also clear, cold, and sharp. 

He felt like he was floating. Maybe he was; there was no way to know. He felt disconnected from his body. The matter making him up wasn’t really his, it was just his turn to use it before he would inevitably die and be reabsorbed into the world, waiting for some other creature to be reborn from the ashes of his demise. 

When his back hit the ground, Willie felt it, but in the way you feel a headache when you’re half asleep. He registered it, knew he was in pain, but didn’t feel it as much as he should’ve. He barely registered the bruises forming on his shoulders, the heat from the fire on his skin, the flecks of concrete bouncing across his face. He was feeling everything and nothing at all, like a frozen fire, a breeze barely detectable as it rushed against a hurricane. 

Willie caught the faint glinting of a few stars in the sky before blacking out. 

…

When he awoke, it was to shouts. They weren’t urgent, but searching, calling, asking, hoping. Blearily, he blinked his eyes open. It was still night, so he couldn’t have been out for long. What had even happened? Why was he collapsed in the middle of a field full of bits of concrete, wood, fabric, and debris?

Then, everything came rushing back in an instant.

Screams.

Knives.

The shockwave.

Fire. 

Alex. 

Willie bolted upright, ignoring the pounding headache between his temples. Standing shakily, he ran to the first person he could find, which happened to be Alyssa.

“Willie? Is that you?” she called, her purple hair caked with dirt. He nodded, tears blurring his vision as he wrapped her in a hug.

“Are you okay?” he asked. When she nodded against his shoulder, he sighed in relief. 

“Thank God. Have you seen anyone else? Where’s Lilian?”

“She’s helping pass out medical supplies to anyone who was injured,” Alyssa explained. “I’m scanning the grounds for others.” He nodded. 

“Has anyone…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Alyssa looked away, nodding.

“Four people. But everyone else was lucky, as far as we know?”

“Has anybody found King Ray yet?”

“No, but we’re looking. It’ll be okay, I promise.” 

“I know, I just… This is horrible.”

“It really is,” Alyssa agreed. “I’m so sorry you had to go through it.”

“You too.”

She reached up and patted his shoulder, and Willie dashed around the grounds, searching for people, taking extra time to look for a certain blonde prince.

He helped a mother and her daughter up out of a ditch where they’d fallen after avoiding a huge concrete slab, assuring them that everything would be okay. After he’d sent them on their way down the hill, he continued his search. But no matter where he looked, he never found Alex. 

Tears blurred in his eyes, but Willie blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time to cry. It wasn’t the time to grieve someone who could be alive. 

He climbed over piles of broken concrete and stone, stamping out small fires along the way, leaving nothing but crumbling, charred ash. 

But no matter where he searched, he couldn’t find Alex. 

He doubled back multiple times, scanning the grounds and looking in every nook and cranny he could find, even going as far as to search the other half of the grounds where the bomb hadn’t affected. But there was no familiar sweep of blonde hair, no sarcastic remark, no eyes that shifted from blue to green to grey, no golden embroidery on a blue suit. 

Then, he found himself running through the gardens again, searching, and ending up all the way at the back end in the park where he’d tried to teach Alex to skate. 

Willie brushed the petals of one of the roses between his fingers, the sweet aroma floating to his head and making him dizzy. The grass was cold and wet with dew, but he didn’t care, embracing the chill rather than the fire he’d been so close to. He sank to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest.

Alex was gone.

And there was nothing Willie could do. 

He was heartbroken. He didn’t know Alex as well as he wanted to. He wanted to get to know every aspect of him, every quirk and flaw and edge, no matter what, but now he was gone, a memory floating away on a wind, gentle but cruel and unrelenting. Willie ducked his head into his knees, letting his emotions flow as he sobbed.

He was always a quiet crier, and it made him feel insignificant and forgettable. For once, though, he didn’t care. Let the universe forget him. Let him flow through the galaxy as nothing more than a speck, a dot on a timeline, a splash of color in an ever-growing sea of humanity. 

He cursed himself for falling in love so quickly, for not trying harder to get Alex to leave before the blast. He cursed himself for ever having met him at all, maybe then they’d both be alive, and it would be better in the long run. But nothing could ever be perfect. Willie knew that. So why, why did it hurt so badly when the one thing he knew would never work out ended so abruptly?

He tugged on the key on his necklace, the familiar grooves indenting his skin. He was shaking, the cold darkness like a blanket, fading as the sky gradually lightened, barely noticeable even as the sun began to paint the horizon with streaks of gold. 

Then, the impossible happened. At least, it should’ve been impossible.

He heard Alex calling his name.

He knew it couldn’t be real, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as his head snapped up, half-sure he was hallucinating. But Alex was running closer, and soon Willie was standing up, walking slowly, tentatively towards him, like if he moved too fast it might scare away the slim possibility that he was real, and not a cruel trick of the light.

It might’ve worked, too, because when he leaped into Alex’s hug, he didn’t phase through him, didn’t collapse back to the ground. Alex caught him, and Willie couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. Probably both, he decided as he wrapped his arms tighter around Alex’s back. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered shakily, feeling Alex’s head shake over his. 

“No,” he said. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was doing, I should’ve grabbed you and ran…” Then it was Willie’s turn to shake his head. His breath hitched as he realized just how close they were. He could’ve counted the faint freckles dotting the prince’s nose, traced constellations into his skin, searched his eyes for answers he didn’t know existed. 

And then, he kissed him. 

Willie had always thought that, when people described sparks flying during a kiss, they were exaggerating, but in that moment he realized that it was incredibly, beautifully real. Sparks flew from his heart, leaving flecks of light and euphoria on his skin. Alex’s lips were soft and warm over his, slick with tears. It was broken and imperfect, but Willie wouldn’t change a second of it.

When they came up for air, Willie was smiling, but more tears were rolling down his face. 

“When you weren’t with the survivors, I-” he choked off into another sob. “I thought I’d lost you,” he finally whispered. Alex shook his head, and Willie delved deeper into the embrace, memorizing every detail that he could, the way Alex’s hands felt on his back, the fabric of his suit, how his shoulder was perfectly level with Willie’s mouth.

“You’ll never lose me,” Alex whispered to him.

A few moments later, Willie breathed back, “I hope not.” 

[otonymous]

Remembrance (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: In a world where strangers abound, friends become foes. Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for Shaw’s identity and the latest chapters in the EN server (up to and including Chapter 24; the rest is pure speculation and imagination on my part as I generally try to steer clear of spoilers on other servers), hints of exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, angst Word Count: ~1500 words (~7 mins of smut & angst) Author’s Notes: This story was inspired by one of the many karmas that recently hit the CN server (please see pic above) and Gavin won out in my poll of which boy to write for first!  As with many things MLQC-related, you know I had to inject a dose of angst with my smut 🤣

SPOILER WARNING: For all my friends that are caught up on the latest chapters in the EN server, this story takes place in a timeline where MC is still unrecognized by the boys, but has developed some of that badassery I’m so looking forward to seeing in the future (I mean, just LOOK at the expression on her face in that karma; it screams “DON’T MESS” and I’m ALLLL for it LOL).  That being said, please note the warnings listed above and happy reading! 😊

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He doesn’t know you.

If there was ever any doubt, it is driven swiftly from your mind by the frost in amber eyes, the gaze that once held nothing but tenderness now tinged with suspicion and distrust.

“Who are you?  How did you gain access to the classified files?”

The grip on your wrists tightens, the leathery smoothness of his gloved hand a sharp contrast to the strength in those long fingers, binding your arms behind you with ease.  Gavin’s breath is hot, dancing on the nape of your neck in unhurried rhythm despite the precariousness of the situation.

What did he have to be afraid of, after all?  He wasn’t the one in a compromised position, pinned against a glass wall in the Archives room - the inner sanctum of the Special Task Force headquarters.

“My patience is wearing thin.  You’d better start talking.”

His voice is hushed, low and dangerous and completely out of place when directed towards you.  A lifetime ago, when the biggest worry you had involved convincing a certain CEO not to pull funding from your production company, Gavin had loved you — completely and unconditionally.

Now you knew what it was to stand on the other side of that fence.

The woman you were before would’ve cowered, limbs shaking beyond control as her blank mind raced in endless circles, trying to come up with something, anything, to extricate herself from the desperate situation.

Scared.

Helpless.

All the things you no longer identified with.

Your breath fogs up the glass, mere inches from the tip of your nose.  Each passing second of silence sees Gavin’s brows furrow even deeper in the reflection staring back at you, his handsome features easily made out against the darkness of the surrounding hallways — dim save for the odd crimson glow marking exits and doors.

Shaw said he’d provide you with cover but apparently even he was capable of miscalculation.  No one was supposed to be here, let alone his older brother.  You wondered if he watched you now through the cameras panning the room; wondered whose eyes, if any, fell upon the pair of bodies pressed so tightly together they might well have been mistaken for lovers caught in flagrante.

Lovers.

In another life, you had called Gavin yours.  

The thought settles heavy in your heart, sinking until it reaches the pit of your stomach.  You knew what had to be done, hoped you had the wherewithal to make it happen.  Physically, there is no contest: Gavin is much too strong and fast for you to take on.  Escape now is contingent on the hope that even if he had no recollection of you, his body would still respond to the things you knew he loved best.

“I bear no ill intentions towards the Special Task Force, Commander Bai, least of all towards you.”

Half-whispered, the tone of your voice is sultry, aiming to disarm.  Taking a deep breath, you step back, moving closer into the curve of Gavin’s body as you ignore the awkward angle of your stance.  The lapels of his overcoat brush soft against your bare shoulders and suddenly…

…you recognize that scent.

Soap on skin.  Windblown hair.  The memories wash over you, relentless like the undertow of a tidal wave: the letter you never opened — bloodied and crumpled.  The boy with the bandaged face, thrusting his jacket over your head as he yelled over the din of pouring rain for you to make a run for the school gates.  Your heart had pounded even then to be close enough to catch the subtle fragrance of his soap.

I’m sorry, Gavin.

You feel the heat of tears rolling down your cheeks, see them glisten in the reflection looking back at you.  And when you crane your neck to face him, amber eyes widen at the sight, Gavin’s grip on your wrists loosening just a bit to hear you say,

“You’re hurting me.”

Feigning innocence, you keep your gaze locked on his, letting your mouth fall open just enough to allow your tongue to sweep out and wet pink lips.

“Don’t you remember me, Gavin?”

Exaggerating the arch of your back, your bottom juts against the plane of his groin, hard even beneath layers of clothing.  And when your hips begin their languid sway — tracing figure eights over his body in an attempt to persuade — the prominent bob of Gavin’s Adam’s apple signals that you are on the right track.

“I…I don’t know who—”

“Touch me, and maybe then you’ll remember.”

You let your head fall back onto Gavin’s chest like so many times before, hear the echo of his heart — racing now — when you peer up at him from beneath your lashes.  Fighting against his grip, you slide your hands down and over the outline of his hardening cock…slow…until you reach the hem of your skirt.

Grasp and pull.  Up, up, up.  Try not to shiver when the cool air hits your bare skin.  Let the memories of the love you shared with this man burn bright enough to melt the ice of this Eternal Winter.

“I don’t care who sees if you don’t, Commander Bai.  You have nothing to fear from me.  I’m unarmed.  Check for yourself…”

Barely breathing now, you maneuver — cautious — until your palm is pressed to his.  Gavin’s fingers twitch and you seize the opportunity before it flees.  It is now your hand that grasps his, bringing it down and around the curve of your hip until it slides beneath the lace of your panties.

“Hm…”

Gavin moans despite himself to feel the heat radiating from your core even through leather, distraught at how uncharacteristically he was behaving.  He was seasoned enough to know when he was walking into a trap and yet, there was something about you that told him you weren’t lying; that he did know you even if he had no recollection of ever laying eyes on you in his life.

Maybe that was why he let himself be led, allowing your touch to ease the disquiet in his chest to feel like he finally found something important he once lost without even realizing it.

Your purse slides off your shoulder when you lurch forward, hands shooting out last minute to prevent your face from kissing glass as your knees shake to feel his gloved hand rubbing circles about your swelling clit.  Each stroke is torturously slow, as if Gavin were patiently getting reacquainted with the body that took very little time to respond to his touch.

You could hear it, after all — the wet sounds that accompanied the movement of his fingers, especially now that the middle and index were beginning to traverse the length of your slit, curving at your entrance to gather the arousal that pooled.

And when he holds up his hand before both of you, the sticky sheen that darkened leather in places makes you blush before all thoughts of self-consciousness are swept away by the sight of Gavin licking from knuckle to tip, white teeth biting to pull the glove off one hand, then the other.

You feel the heat of his skin now, the roughened callouses on fingers and palm sweeping gently along the line of your jaw, eyes of molten gold observing every movement in the reflection of you and him on glass like an intimate portrait.  And suddenly, there is no Special Task Force, no NW, no Black Swan…no Evol.  

Nothing else but you and him.

I love you.

The silent echo of your unspoken words settle in the darkest corners of your heart as your close your eyes, giving over to the touch of Gavin’s hands — one cradling your face as the other conforms to the curve of your breast.

“I don’t know why…”

Soft lips brush against the lobe of your ear en route to dropping kisses along the pulse of your neck.

“…but I’ll trust you this one time.”

There is an edge to his voice as Gavin pulls back, burying the tip of his nose into the nape of your neck and inhaling deep before he steps aside to let you pass.

“Go.  Before the rest of them get here.  Don’t ever let me catch you again.”

His eyes fall on you, scanning from head to toe before he reaches out to retrieve your purse from the floor and drape it over your shoulder.

“Gavin, I—”

You’re interrupted when the doors at the far end of one hallway slam open with a bang, STF agents spilling through with weapons at the ready.  Gavin shoves you towards the exit, shouting “GO NOW!” as he makes to step between you and the approaching brigade.

And as you make your escape, running so fast each breath draws the taste of blood, you fight to keep the tears from blurring your vision, all the while unaware of the amber eyes trained in your direction…watching until you merge with darkness itself.

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Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[e-milieeee]

golden (like daylight)—wings au

Notes: inspired by @celerydays ‘s comic! 

this is for @thechatsmeow and @justaferal-bastard ’s wing au... bc i have become way too invested. no regrets :D and everyone who has contributed to the wing au content.... ily

altho warning: there is description of blood but its not in detail at all!! 

Summary: Who knew getting shot in the side and then thrown off a building would've been the way Ladybug discovered Chat Noir's identity?

Marinette certainly wouldn't have guessed.

Click here to read on AO3! 

golden (like daylight) 

Chat Noir is not present when Ladybug is hit.

It’s a mistake that she’s never made before; somehow, she’d always been able to summon her Lucky Charms in the nick of time, without the akuma’s interference. But this time is different. Chat had been missing the whole fight, not there to watch her back, so when Ladybug throws her yo-yo into the air she is met with blinding pain instead of a magical object.

It pieces into her side, with enough force to puncture through her suit and send her slamming into the wall a couple of paces away.

For a moment, shock is the only emotion Ladybug feels. She understands the pain in a disjointed manner, the sort that promises agony but does not yet register as much—and then it finally hits her.  

A bullet. She’s been shot by a bullet. Her vision is obscured by tears, too blurry for her to see anything more than a meter away from her. The world stops spinning until all Ladybug can focus on is the fact that her side feels like it’s burning, as if the wound is boring deeper and deeper into her body until it steals her breath and her heartbeat. And on top of that, her earrings have started to beep.

Ladybug can hear the sharp cackling of the akuma—Sharpshooter—who flits over to her, inky black wings beating behind him, his gun cocked in her direction still. Her wings drag weakly at her back, trembling from effort yet uselessly, and Sharpshooter reaches down to grab a handful of her suit. She is hauled to her feet.

The triumphal smile on his face does not belong to the akuma so much as it belongs to Hawkmoth. “Ladybug,” he sneers. “Look at you. Nothing without Chat Noir, aren’t you?”

“Put her down.”  

Both she and Sharpshooter turn to follow the voice. Hovering a couple of paces behind them, black wings beating furiously, is Chat Noir. He’s too far for Ladybug to make out anything more than the vague shape of his figure, but the relief that floods through her is almost strong enough to combat the pain. Chat levels the akuma down with a glare, baton in one hand, his cataclysm burning in the other. When Sharpshooter doesn’t move, Chat raises the baton. “Put. Her. Down.”  

For a moment, Ladybug thinks that the akuma just might follow the command. There’s something terrifying in Chat’s voice that chills her, even though his words aren’t directed to her. Perhaps it’s her failing vision, but his eyes seem darker than they usually are, canines elongated.

Then Sharpshooter throws his head back and laughs. “You want me to put her down?” he snarls back at Chat. “Then go get her.”

The next thing Ladybug knows is glass shattering like rainfall all around her. The pain tearing through her wings barely register, because before she can focus on them, the wind is taking its turn to rip them apart, feather by feather, like tiny needles jamming into muscle.

As Ladybug plummets down, she’s lucid enough to understand that she needs to fly. Except the pain in her side is now spreading throughout all her body, turning her movements sluggish. Her wings tremble uselessly behind her, a deadweight. She falls, faster and faster, the ground approaching, terror and pain and helplessness clawing into her throat and choking her with cold fingers.

This isn’t supposed to be how I die, Ladybug thinks, and with some wild, last minute desperation, she forces her wings open.

For a split second it works: her fall slows slightly. But it’s not enough to combat the sheer speed she has been tumbling at, and she can only watch as the ground grows closer and closer and—

A streak of black shadow barrels into her. The air is knocked clean out of Ladybug’s lungs.

She can feel Chat straining to slow their dive. His wings flap fiercely for a couple of short seconds before they envelope her and the impact hits.

A hard, brutal collision greets them—no, not them, him —as the punishment is absorbed by Chat Noir’s wings and body. He cries out when they hit the ground, rolling to a stop.

Ladybug lays there, winded and out of breath, nestled safely from the worst of the fall between the giant, dark wings that still shield her. The wound in her side has stopped its incessant agony, instead turning into a sharp ache that she has learned to ignore in favor of worse things. Her wings feel like they’ve been ripped clean from her back from the sheer force of trying to stop the plunge. Before her eyes, her vision flickers and blackens, and Ladybug struggles to keep her eyes open. Sharpshooter’s dark silhouette imprints against the blue of the sky, his weapon pointed at them, but the warning that rises is interrupted when Chat Noir pushes himself to his knees. With trembling effort, he slips a careful arm under her neck and lifts her head up.

“Ladybug, I’m so sorry,” he breathes. His voice chokes, and Ladybug’s own throat closes at how terrified he sounds. “I was late because I couldn’t get out of the house when I saw the akuma attack and I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I—”

He is cut off by the shrill beeping of her earrings. Without wasting a beat, Chat Noir’s wings rise around them like a slow, laboured breath, until the blue sky is blotted out by inky black and she is cocooned safely inside a sea of feathers.

Her transformation slips when the first bullet hits Chat’s wings.

He doesn’t make a noise of pain; the only sign is the slight flinch of his body. But Marinette can see it: the stain of blood from where the bullet pierces through his wing, then another, then another.

“What are you doing?” she grinds out. “Chat, please, you’re getting hurt!”

“What does it look like?” Somehow, he manages a smile. “Protecting you, M’lady.”

He knows who I am. But her identity isn’t the most important thing, not when Chat’s taking all of the fire, his wings straining to keep her shielded. “Chat,” she repeats. “You have to let me help.”

“Don’t worry.” He winces, one hand moving, and it takes Marinette a moment to realize that he’s reaching for her ears. “I have a plan. I just—I just need to get you somewhere safe, and I need your Miraculous for now. Is that okay?”

“I can help—”

“No, you can’t,” he interrupts. “Can I take your Miraculous for this, Marinette?”

It’s the insistent way Chat says her name that makes her yield. They’ve met plenty of times as Marinette and Chat Noir, but never with this knowledge between them. But the bond between them is still the same; unspoken but strong, full of unconditional trust. And Marinette trusts him with her life.

“Alright,” she whispers.

Chat doesn’t waste a heartbeat. He takes them from her carefully, then, without removing his own Miraculous, slips the earrings on.

“Tikki, spots on.”

The color that rises from the combination of their Miraculous is one that Marinette cannot explain: it’s not Chat’s green nor her pink, but instead, a kaleidoscope of a spectrum much beyond known words. The color streaks from the Miraculous to his wings, which unfurl as black, white and gold interspersed together. Marinette can still see the bullet wounds of angry crimson, but Chat pays them no heed. Instead, still shielding her from sight, he picks her up gingerly. The claws on his fingers are gone, replaced by spiralling patterns of red and black that dance around each other. They share one look of mutual understanding.

Then, with one strong wingbeat, he takes off.

Marinette knows flying and speed. She and Chat have raced, have dived from sky-high, but this— this is another step of intensity altogether. Despite the wounds both of them sport, Chat moves with the same feline grace, even faster than usual. Marinette can practically feel the power of the combined Miraculous thrumming underneath and through his suit, diffusing into her veins as well.

They lose Sharpshooter in the matter of seconds. He dives through narrow alleys, over and around rooftops, until finally, they land on a highrise. Chat sets her down behind a large billboard.

“Stay here, and I’ll come find you after I’ve purified the akuma,” Chat tells her, squeezing her hand lightly.

He turns to leave. Despite her condition, Marinette manages to grab hold of his tail, pulling him to a halt.

“Chat,” she manages out.

His gaze is steady. “I’ll be back.” It’s a statement and a promise at the same time.

“You better,” Marinette tells him. It hurts to smile, but she does it anyway. “I still have to kick your ass for doing something so stupid.”  

He grins, wounded wings stretching open again. “I wouldn’t miss that for the world, M’lady.”

He dives off the building in a streak of brilliant, dying color, and Marinette can only wait.

***

Marinette knows the akuma has been defeated when the bullet wound on her side disappears, the pain in her wings fading until she is able to straighten them fully again.

But she still can’t help but worry when Chat Noir still doesn’t return. She waits, counting the seconds—thirty, sixty, one minute, two, five—but he’s nowhere in sight. He had promised he would come back, but he hadn’t, and given the state she had last seen him in…

The soft fluttering of wings interrupts her thoughts. Marinette scrambles towards the sound, at the edge of the building, having worked herself into a fever of nervous anticipation.

The first thing she sees are the wings.

Bright, golden wings.

It’s not the stygian black of Chat Noir, nor the palette of colors he had sported with both their Miraculous, yet it’s familiar all the same.

Adrien Agreste lands in front of her.

She doesn’t need an explanation. Marinette sees it, as clear as daylight. She understands through unspoken words—she knows , has known deep down, and it’s right. Painfully, wonderfully, right. Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir. Adrien Agreste is her partner.

Of course.  

The nervousness on Adrien’s face melts into shock when Marinette tackles him with a hug.

His wings, healed, brush against her hands softly. Marinette grips the feathers tightly, burying her face into his shoulder. Slowly, hesitantly, Adrien’s hands creep around her to rest on her back as well.

“It’s you,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “It’s you.”  

His body shakes when he laughs. “Does this mean you’re not mad at me? For finding out your identity? And for revealing mine? I thought it wouldn’t be fair if I knew but you didn’t know who I was and it was you so I thought I might as well—” He lets go of her to gesture grandly. “All of this. You’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad at you.” Marinette pulls back as well. “For being a stupid, noble, self-sacrificing idiot.”  

“You can kick my ass for that,” Arien promises, albeit a little nervously. “But everything else…?”

“Getting shot hurt,” she replies. “But maybe ‘everything else’ made it worth it.”

The smile that spreads over his face is bright like the sun, golden like his wings. “Here,” Adrien said, opening her hand and placing her earrings into them. Then, he adds quietly, “I’m glad it’s you, Marinette.”

How can she not smile back, seeing that earnest, open look on his face? Marinette reaches up, carefully and softly, pressing her fingers against his cheeks. He leans into her touch.

“Me too,” she echoes.

Notes: Click here for my fics masterlist! 

[taeminyourmind]

A Christmas Wedding (2019) x Taemin (M)

A Christmas Love Story is a set of 8 short love-filled stories  that follows you and Taemin’s relationship through the years during Christmastime. Each story represents a new year with the series beginning in 2013 and ending in 2020.

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Summary: After 6 years together, you and Taemin tie the knot in a small intimate ceremony and enjoy a steamy evening together.

Pairing: Taemin x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k+

A Christmas Love Story Masterlist: Snowmen & Hot Chocolate | Secret Santa | A Sleigh Ride Confession | You, Me & Ice Skates | Mistletoe Kisses | A Christmas Proposal | A Christmas Wedding | Baby’s First Christmas

2019

The sound of light piano music is muffled behind the closed doors in front of you. Your hands tightly grip your bouquet of Baby’s Breath flowers, their floral scent soothes your nerves as you take deep breaths to slow your pounding heart. Your eyes catch a glance of yourself in the mirror; your long-sleeve white lace wedding dress comfortably hugs your body, the intricate lace design resembles flowers; among your white dress, and flowers, the emerald ring on your finger shines brightly as it twinkles in the sunlight that’s seeping through the window behind you. A soft call of your name makes you turn around where you see Jongil, gazing at you with teary eyes and a gentle smile.

“You look gorgeous,” he says, his voice quivering. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

“Aren’t I the only one you’ve seen?”

He lightly chuckles and nods. “Even if I see 100 brides, you’ll always be the most beautiful. Except for my future wife, but that’s a different story. It’s your day,” he reaches out to link his arm with yours. He takes a moment, deeply breathing out before turning to you. “Ready?”

You nod while trying your best to smile, though a swarm of butterflies releases their nervousness in your stomach. “I’m ready.”

With your hand squeezing around Jongil’s arm, he reaches forward and gives a gentle knock on the door. The sight of the door opening disperses the butterflies in your stomach as your eyes lock with Taemin’s. He stands at the altar sporting a fitted black suit with a deep red tie; his jet black hair is parted to the side and softly swept back to reveal his face, a strand of hair frames his face until he pushes it back. His eyes take in your beauty as Jongil leads you down the aisle.

The once muffled sound of the piano now sounds clear; its sweet melody acting as the transition song as you walk towards the next chapter of your life. Jongil’s whispers are inaudible as you block out the world and focus on Taemin. The softness of his relaxed face, the gentleness of his sweet smile, and the warmth of his eyes engulf you in a blanket of love and protection as you reach the altar. Your cheeks grow warm when you’re close enough to read his lips as he mouths ‘beautiful’.

Letting go of Jongil’s arm, you take Taemin’s hand as he guides you beside him. His touch brings tears to your eyes as you realize your future, which once seemed so far away, is now at your side. Gently, he taps your shoulder and gestures to Clara and Jongil, who are holding framed pictures of your late father and his late grandmother. The sight of your father makes you cling tighter onto Taemin as tears roll down your face.

“They’re always here with us in spirit,” he whispers before gently kissing the side of your head. “And I know they wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

The comfort of Taemin’s words brings a smile to your face as you find yourself smiling at the picture of your father. In your heart, you know that he would’ve loved Taemin and would walk you down the aisle if it’s the last thing he did. Until you meet again, you feel at peace knowing he’s watching over you and proudly smiling at his little girl.

While the minister opens the ceremony with beautiful words, your hand tightly grips Taemin’s as you blink back tears. At the gentle stroke of his thumb over the top of your hand, the tears you’ve been holding back gracefully fall down your face. The overwhelming pressure of love in your chest threatens to explode as you and Taemin turn to face one another, both surprised to see the trail of tears down each other’s face.

Taemin gives a nervous chuckle as he reaches into his suit’s pocket to bring out a neatly folded piece of paper. Slowly opening it, he clears his throat and gives you a gentle smile. “___. My love. Our love story began six years ago in a winter wonderland, two strangers brought together by snowmen and hot chocolate. With you in my life, it’s hard to imagine how I’ve managed to get by without you. And now that I’ve found you, now that I have you, I won’t let you go. Before you, I hated the winter, the cold and lonely nights. But now, winter has a new meaning to me; love. The cold and lonely nights I cursed were replaced with warmth and love as you’ve stuck by my side.” He pauses for a moment, a tear sliding down his cheek as he takes a deep breath. “I can never show you grateful I am to have you or thank you enough for coming into my life, but I can try by being the husband you deserve, your partner, protector, and outlet of love. I love you, ___. And I can’t wait to be your husband.”

Taemin brings your hand to his lips, kissing them softly while you choke back tears. Through your blurry vision, you reach in the center of your bouquet and carefully unroll a sheet of paper. With a blink, your vision is cleared as the tears slide down your face.

“Taemin,” you begin with a smile. His eyes gently urge you to continue as he reaches forward to pat your tears away. “I consider you a gift from above. When you came into my life, a gray cloud was hovering over my head, but you turned my gray skies clear, embracing me with love and words of affirmation. When I look back at us, I remember the story your grandmother told you of the crooked carrot, and she was right. I found true love and I found it in you. With each breath I take, I’m so thankful for you and that our paths, out of millions, crossed at the right time. Now that I have you, I refuse to imagine what my life would have been like without you. To have someone that loves me as deeply as you do is impossible to find because there’s only one person that can do that, and it’s you. As long as I have air in my lungs, I will be your wife, your friend, and your home. I love you, Lee Taemin.”

Bashfully, you and Taemin exchange your written vows, your hands holding the papers tightly before tucking them away. Impatience runs its course in you the longer you stare into his eyes; you desperately want to press your lips against his, but the presence of Clara by your side interrupts your thought as she gently takes the bouquet from your hands and hands you the ring. You give her an apologetic smile before returning your attention to Taemin. Your bodies inch closer together as you place the rings on each other’s fingers and exchange ‘I Dos’.

“By the power invested in me,” the minister exclaims with a bright smile. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!”

Taemin’s fingers gently cradle your face, slightly tilting it upwards as his thumbs softly caress the apples of your cheeks. Leaning up, you close the gap between him and you until you feel his lips press against yours. The warmth of passion and taste of peppermint on his lips make you smile against his lips. The realization of you becoming one causes a tear to slide down your face. Slowly, you pull away and rest your foreheads against each other’s, speaking so softly that your voices were inaudible to those around you.

“I love you, Mrs. Lee.”

“And I love you, Mr. Lee.”

The fireplace crackles and pops as its flames warm the room and illuminate it with hues of gold. The harsh wind blows snow past the window where its corners are decorated with frost. The aroma of s'mores fills the room as you and Taemin devour the graham cracker treats; the gooey chocolate and marshmallow smear on your fingers and faces.

Taemin playfully licks the spot of chocolate from the side of your mouth and delightfully hums at its sweetness. The feather-like glides of his tongue tickle you as you try to pull away from his body, but his arms wrap around and hold onto you tighter. His child-like laugh draws you closer as you give in and allow yourself to be pulled closer. The feeling of his breath against your neck sends tingles throughout your body, making your back slightly arched.

Your laughter transforms into gentle moans you try to disguise as hums. Your body relaxes into Taemin’s chest as his luscious lips tenderly kiss down your neck, his lips branding you with warmth with each kiss. The sensual sensation causes your chest to shudder as you take a shaky breath.

Taemin pulls you into his lap where his arms firmly wrap around your waist. While his lips dance across your skin, you bring your hand up to his hair, your fingers gently gripping it just as he pulls away as an act of disappointment. His eyes scan the trail on your neck where his lips once were and gently blows on it, causing shivers to cascade down your spine. His lips twitch into a conceited smirk as he catches the fire’s reflection in his trail of wet kisses.

You get lost in the heat of the moment. You slowly guide Taemin’s index and middle fingers into your mouth. Your lips gently wrap around them. The sweet residue of melted chocolate and marshmallow makes your mouth water as your tongue circles each finger, pressing them against the middle of your tongue where you begin to teasingly suck on them. 

A moan presses against Taemin’s lips, begging to be let out. He bites his lower lip to suppress its power as he watches his fingers disappear and reappear in your mouth; the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock as you gaze seductively, tauntingly into his eyes gives his moan strength to push past his lips. Taemin’s quiet moan makes you yearn for more. With a “pop”, you slowly remove his fingers from your mouth. They shine under the firelight.

Your body turns until you straddle his lap as your chest presses against his. Your fingertips softly push back his fallen bangs; your eyes lovingly take in the features of his face while you begin to slowly grind yourself against his pelvis. The friction of his growing member causes a quick moan to slip past your lips as you grind down harder. The euphoric pleasure of the texture of Taemin’s pajama bottoms rubbing against your clit teases your sexual hunger. Your hands clasp behind his neck as you inaudibly moan his name.

Taemin’s lips slightly part to allow a whimper to escape. His cool fingertips lightly brush your skin before finding purchase on your hips, squeezing them to halt your rocking. The feeling of his hand sneakily traveling up your red silk nightgown with white faux fur trim sends shivers back down your spine. His hands make a note of the feel of your legs as they travel up your thigh until his palms rest against his ass.

“No underwear?” He teasingly raises a brow, his fingers kneading into your skin.

You lean forward enough for your lips to brush against his ear. “And I’m wet too.” Your low whisper makes Taemin’s body tense. “Don’t you want to be inside me, Tae? To feel my warm wet walls clench around your cock until your cum fills me up?”

Your vivid description causes Taemin to lewdly groan as he uses his free hand to reach down his pants and brings out his cock, slowly pumping himself to the imagination of making love to you. His eyes gaze up at you half-open as precum coats his tip.

“Wouldn’t this feel better?”

Before Taemin can comprehend your question, you slightly lift your hips and reach down to gently take his cock into your control. You slowly brush it between your wet folds, from your aroused clit to your entrance before easing yourself down his length. You collectively gasp when he fills your walls.

For a moment, you remain still and lean forward until your lips softly press against his. The sweet taste of his lips makes you move yours with fervor as his tongue smoothly welcomes itself into your mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss.

Taemin gasps against your lips when you begin to slowly bounce on his length. Your brows furrow in pleasure as your pace slightly quickens. Like tennis, you and Taemin exchange moans when his hands grip your waist and guide your hips back and forth.

Taemin’s lips latch onto the side of your neck as inaudible moans of his name drips from your lips. The lewd sound of your wetness makes his cock twitch in the comfort of your walls. With his head leaning back, his exposed Adam’s apple bobs with each breathless moan. Leaning forward, you create a trail of wet kisses up the middle of his throat, your teeth softly grazing his skin.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Taemin carefully lays back until his back is pressed against the warm floor. Leisurely, he thrusts upward, pulling out enough until his tip remains in before ramming back into your walls. Your breath rattles in your chest with each thrust while his thrusts spread your wetness along the top of the inside of your thighs.

The firelight coats Taemin’s skin in gold while his cheeks flush pink. His skin glistens with a thin layer of perspiration that gives it a dewy glow. Your name tastes as sweet as honey on his tongue as it passes his slightly parted puffy lips. Over and over he chants your name and declares his love for you through breathless whispers.

The immense feeling of pleasure washes over your body. Reaching up to help you, you remove your nightgown and toss it to the side. Taemin’s eyes immediately fall to your breasts that bounce each time he rams into you. He extends his neck upward and wraps his lips around your hardened nipple while his hands spread your asscheeks, occasionally slapping each side. Your hisses blend into moans, making it difficult to distinguish the two.

Your palms rest comfortably on his pecs to steady yourself from Taemin’s quickened and increasingly aggressive thrusts. The rapid rise and fall of his chests hint that he’s nearing his end. Your eyes close when his tip repeatedly rubs against your sweet spot. Your fingernails gently graze his skin, digging deeper with each thrust. Repeated pleads for Taemin to coat your walls with his cum fall from your lips, encouraging him to fall over his edge.

Taemin’s arms wrap around your upper body and press you to his chest while he mercilessly pounds into you. The lewd sounds of your wetness, whimpers, and Taemin’s balls slapping against your ass overtakes the crackle of the fireplace as they bounce off the walls.

Your lips aggressively press against Taemin’s as a fiery knot ties in your core. Together, you exchange yelps of each other’s names. You manage to slide your hand between you and Taemin’s bodies and quickly rub your swollen clit. The mixture of pleasure makes your body jerk as your walls clench tighter around his cock. Your quiet pants turn into an exclamation of his name as a flash of white flashes before your eyes, your body stiffening as your hips buckle.

The tired smile on your face contorts back into one of pleasure as Taemin’s thrusts become arrhythmic. Within a few more thrusts, he loudly grunts your name as his cum spurts inside you, painting your walls with his seed.

The sounds of pleasure that once occupied the room are replaced with the breathless pants of you and Taemin; your chests rapidly rising and falling as your skin sticks to one another. He peppers your shoulder and crook of your neck with soft kisses while he whispers beautiful words of affection against your skin. His somnolent heartbeat lulls you to drowsiness as you take long blinks, trying to keep yourself awake while Taemin’s fingertips soothingly trace shapes on your back.

“I love you,” you mumble as your heavy eyes slowly close.

The feeling of your light breaths makes Taemin quietly chuckle as he wraps his arms around your body.

Gently, he presses a kiss on the side of your head and whispers, “I love you too, my dear.”

[lightbeyondeden]

Weatherman

Weatherman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

a/n: this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins​ ‘s small creators list! My prompt was “reader loses a set of very important papers after they blow away. Spencer, who happens to be nearby, helps collect them.”

this isn’t my favourite but i figured i’d post it anyway :(

This is also in first person, which I am experimenting with so let me know how you like it!

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of schizophrenia/general mental illness and doctor talk, some cursing

masterlist

I am late. I am so, so, so very extraordinarily late. 

What may very well be the most important meeting of my career starts in 3 minutes, and I only just got off the bus. 

I grab onto the folder beside me - which contains over a years worth of research, research that I need for the most important meeting of my career - and take off towards the entrance of the hospital. I’m just about five feet short of those steely sliding doors when I hear a crack of thunder that stops me dead in my tracks, and it would’ve only been that which stopped me if I hadn't have seen him standing there. 

He was tall and he dressed like he had been born in the 1960’s, though he couldn’t have been more than five years older than myself. He turned around and I was caught in these honey gold eyes. His hair had that kind of effortless curly look that was perfect for running your fingers through. I probably could’ve stood there looking in those eyes for the rest of my life if I hadn’t suddenly become aware that the folder in my hand had snapped open with a gust of wind from the storm. 

I watched my work dance away in the wind.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit shit!” 

That was all I could think of the say as I desperately chased after my research papers as they now found a new home on the ground in front of the sliding doors I came so close to entering without incident. I should’ve known that would’ve been too easy, I have never been graceful.

The honey-eyed boy and I both jumped into action, chasing down the papers as efficiently as we could in a stormy, crowded, cement slab. When he turns to hand me the stack he collected, I don’t even have time to think about the words flying out of my mouth. All I know is I need to be in conference room B right now, wooing a table of investors into taking on my clinical trial.

“Thank you! I’m so late!” I could feel myself slipping into his features already, which likely why I huffed out those last few words.

 “You're gorgeous. I’m SO late.” 

With embarrassing sentiment on the table, I turn on my heel and race to my conference room.

--------------------

Once the door shuts behind me I’m finally able to let out the breath I feel like I’ve been holding for the past hour. An hour I had just spent pitching my new clinical trial to the hospital board, or basically begging them to fund it. I could not be more nervous, even now that the meeting was over my mind was still in jumbles and going a mile a minute.

However this career defining moment wasn’t the only thing that had me flustered; I can’t stop thinking about the man from earlier. I can picture his veiny hands, the watch wrapped around the cuff of his shirt, the fact I had called him gorgeous… 

Okay, so that last one makes me cringe a little, but it wasn’t like it was a lie. Plus, I was probably never going to see him again. He didn’t work here (I would remember someone that pretty), and we had interacted for like five seconds anyway.

That’s what I told myself - until I turned the corner and ran right into him. 

“Oh! I am so sorry.” He says immediately, like a reflex, and I want to choke him out right there in that hallway because not only does he look like an angel but he's polite too. 

And I’m so caught up in that thought that he speaks again,

“You’re Dr. Y/l/n.” 

I just look up at him dumbly because yes, I am, but I don’t know where he’s going with this yet and I really, really do not want to embarrass myself in front of him again. 

“I’ve read about your work in the Journal of Clinical Psychopharmacology.” His eyes are darting wildly around the room, and he's talking so fast I can barely comprehend what he's trying to say, “Your research in pediatric onset schizophrenia is really groundbreaking. I mean, the use of Olanzapine Pharmacokinetics during inpatient stays is-”

“Y/n.” I interrupt, reaching my hand out for him to shake. 

“What?” 

“You don't have to call me Doctor Y/l/n. You’re not a patient or an asshole, and those are the only people who have to call me that. My name is Y/n.” I say, trying to put some humour into the conversation. 

He looks at me for a little too long before taking my hand. I can tell he's uncomfortable the second he touches me, and I’m horrified that it’s because my hands are clammy. He must sense my discomfort as I do his, because he looks at me with the first smile I earn from him and says; 

“I’m not really a handshake person. Too many germs.”

I chuckle, but only because I want to see that smile painted across his face for as long as I can, savouring every second of it. 

We stand in the empty hallway and when I breathe in it smells like hand sanitizer and cinnamon, and now it’s my turn to smile because this gorgeous man smells like fall and has read my research and has a smile that could stop wars and I know that I want to know every part of him, let him infect parts of me with his smell and his touch and I don't even know his name yet. 

“Spencer,” He says, reading my mind, “That's my name. You don’t have to call me Doctor either, just for the record.”

I laugh again, and it is much too loud for the amount of funny that statement was. I was a fifteen year old again and he was the cute boy in my math class who I couldn’t talk to without giggling and blushing.  

“You’re a doctor? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Not that kind of doctor, I have PhD’s.” 

He smiles that million dollar smile and my legs are like jelly. Just like that I know I will fall in love with this honey eyed man. It’s now or never, and I don't know where I get the courage to ask him out for coffee but I do it - with shaky hands and a quiet voice - but I do it nonetheless. 

We plan to see eachother again that night and I can’t breathe until I see him. The coffee shop is empty except for us and even if it hadn’t been the world would have fallen away from me anyway. He walks me to my door, and it starts to rain, and I’m not even annoyed that my hair was ruined by the sky. 

I guess the weather works in my favour sometimes.

Tags

@mollygetssherlockcoffee​ @imagining-in-the-margins​