#what a handsome and dashing young lad

[nazurabbit]

tomoya youre so handsome

[angel5ofp0rn]

Young!Price x f!younger!reader

where u and ExHusband!Price first meet 🤭

TW (?) age gap. legal (21&30-something), but still an age gap

got a lil lazy at the end; just a dash of secks

“Jus’ one more.” You giggle to your friends, making your way through the crowd and over to the bar.

Another one more.

The bartender shakes his head when you approach.

For the fourth time.

“What’ll it be this time, kid?”

“Dunno,” You shrug animatedly. You giggle again, your cheeks warm from the alcohol. “How about…”

You turn to one of the men sitting at the bar.

“What’re you drinking?” You point a manicured finger at a tall, balaclava-wearing man with dark eyes.

He glances towards you for just a moment before looking straight ahead again, mumbling a “whiskey” under his breath.

“Eww.” You scrunch your nose. “No, not that.”

You lean over a bit, hands on the bar, looking past the scary masked man and to the man next to him.

The… gorgeous, blue eyed, clean shaven man next to him.

“What’re- whoa.” Your eyes widen for a moment. “You’re, like… whoa.”

The man exhales a small, slightly amused chortle.

“Would you, like, ‘scuse us?” You ask the scarier man.

He stares you down for a moment.

You blink, waiting for him to move.

“F’r fuck’s sake…” The big guy grumbles, standing up from the barstool and disappearing somewhere in the bar.

You happily hop onto the stool once he’s gone.

You extend your arm to the gorgeous man, your tipsiness making you more fearless than usual.

“Hi. It’s m’birthday.”

“Is it, now?” His smooth, English voice drawls out as he shakes your hand.

“Mhm!” You nod, your grin growing.

The man nods, seemingly amused with your young, drunk self.

“Are you, like, an army guy or something?” You ask, glancing up and down at him in his fatigues.

He snorts.

“I am an army guy or something.” He confirms. “John Price.”

“John Price…” You tilt your head to the side, your long hair falling over your exposed shoulder in that tiny going out top you decided to wear.

“Price is cute. Y/N Price sounds good, right?” You ask aloud, not really to anyone in particular.

“Already planning on taking my last name, are you?” He raises his eyebrows at you, entertained by all of this.

Women come up to him all the time. Can’t really go anywhere without a few flirting with him, batting their eyelashes, playing coy about how badly they want to fuck a man in uniform.

But they’re never this bold.

Usually not this young, either.

You’re a good ten years younger than him, at least; the hell do you want with him?

“Y’know,” You continue, ignoring his question. “You have the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

He smirks.

“Y/N!” Your girl friend calls out, waving you over to her from across the room. “Let’s go dance!”

“Oh!” You grab John’s bicep. “I love dancing. Come dance with us!”

John shakes his head, dismissing the idea.

“Don’t dance.” He takes a swig of his beer. “But, eh… Kyle here-“ He pats the shoulder of another, younger, man on the right side of him. “-Kyle likes to dance. Don’t ya, Gaz?”

“I don’ wanna dance with him.” You shake your head with a frown.

“He’s a handsome young lad.” John continues talking up his buddy as if he’s a car salesman trying to sell you the Buick. “Why don’t you-“

You cut him off, rolling your eyes as if that was the dumbest suggestion you’ve ever heard.

“What’f I dance with Kyle and he r’lly likes me?” You slur a bit.

Kyle grins.

John snorts.

“Then he likes ya.”

“No!” You groan.

Drunken you really resembles a fussy toddler.

“I don’ want Kyle’s babies, I want your babies.”

John laughs.

Kyle chokes on his drink.

“You wanna have my babies, eh?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod confidently. “I wan’ a hundred blue-eyed babies tha’ look Just. Like. You.” You poke his chest in sync with the last three words.

John raises his eyebrow at that, taking another sip of his beer.

Your friends pull you to the dance floor by your arm.

You stumble off with them, looking back at John Price and what’s-his-name.

The men don't even glance back at you once you're gone.

They just laugh it off and continue chatting.

But you? You're not giving up that easily.

You let yourself be distracted for a while; dancing, shots, bathroom selfies, whatever.

But when you see John standing up from the bar, slapping some cash down for the bartender and heading towards the exit; you follow.

"John!" You grin, arms outstretched for a hug once you meet him in the parking lot.

"Christ, you're persistent, aren't ya?" John rubs his hand over his jaw.

Your arms hook around his neck, stumbling into him. He places his hands on your waist, steadying you so you don't completely fall.

“Can’t help it,” you sigh. “I go after what I want.”

You tilt your head back to see those crystal blues that made you talk to him in the first place.

John takes a step back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace. His expression is a mix of amusement and something else…

Perhaps a hint of concern.

That’s fair; you’ve just drunkenly followed a strange man outside at night.

"You're a bit too young for me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I think you should go back inside and enjoy the rest of your birthday with your friends."

"But I like you," you protest, your arms crossing over your chest.

He sighs, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, love, but it's best if you forget about me. I'm not the right guy for ya."

Your lower lip juts out. A proper pout.

“Ah, c’mon. Don’t give me that.” John chortles, crossing his own arms over his chest now. “Look, this isn’t what you want. Tomorrow mornin’… you’re gonna wake up without a single thought of me in your pretty li’l head.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, missing the point completely.

John looks as if he could laugh, but he doesn’t.

“I do.” John nods curtly. “I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful… but you’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you? Why don’t you let me get you an Uber, at least. Make sure ya get some safe ‘n sound.”

You reluctantly accept his offer, standing by his side as the two of you wait for your rides.

Ride.

Because you might as well share one, right?

And once you get to your place, he might as well walk you up.

You’d just be plain rude if you didn’t invite him in; he’d be a jerk if he didn’t accept the invitation.

Sure, he’ll help you remove your heels, but then he really should get going.

But then your hand touches his face when his head is near your knees.

He looks up. You rub your thumb over his jaw.

“Look-“

“‘m jus’ looking at you.”

He really, really should get going.

“Stay with me.” You beg.

“I can’t stay with you, love. I’ve gotta go now.”

He pulls the covers over you, brushes the hair away from your face, he has you text your friends to let them know you’re okay, and he’s gone…

…until the next morning, when he knocks on your door bright and early because, wouldn’t you know it, he accidentally took your phone home and he’s here to return it.

(He totally didn’t pocket it so he’d have an excuse to see you again.)

Since you’re both awake and have no plans, you might as well go to breakfast, right?

“I’m not going anywhere.” You groan, rubbing your puffy eyes.

“Go on. Get showered.” He sits on your sofa, hands folded behind his head. “I’ll wait.”

You didn’t even make it to breakfast.

Ended up having him pull over behind some trees along the way, straddling him in the driver’s seat, bouncing on his thick cock while he murmured praises about how well you’re taking him.

<< prev next >>

[givemequeen]

Accidental Confessions: Pedro Pascal x reader

request: What about a Pedro Pascal friends to lovers? He just seems like such a great friend. It would be cute to see an angsty/fluffy friends to lovers. a/n: I’m back bitches? pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader summary: you go to a party with Pedro and accidentally let something slip. warnings: sexy time. slight oral (female receiving). honestly just normal sexy stuff. oh! unprotected sex (remember to wrap it before you tap it, lads) word count: 5409

You stepped into the party already anxious, your hands were slightly shaking as you made your way around the room overfilled with strangers. Pedro had invited you to some fancy actor party of his and you had regrettably agreed. The last thing you wanted to do right now was fake smile at a bunch of people you didn’t know. It would’ve been so much better if you had just stayed home in bed watching TV. 

You shook the thought out of your head, no, you were here for your friend. He invited you specifically. He wants you here.

As you silently chastised yourself for wishing you weren’t here, you found yourself at the bar. The bartender – a young man with healthy, bouncing curls down to his shoulders whose smile revealed two small dimples on each cheek – asked you what you wanted as he prepared a drink for a girl in a stunning dress.

Pedro hadn’t exactly told you what to wear, just something “formal”, so you had landed on a long, thin, silver dress with spaghetti straps that you had bought on a whim. Thankfully, you seemed to fit in with the rest of the people. Though they did seem much more put together than you did.

You told the bartender your order – lemon vodka – and sat on one of the stools. You were about to take your phone out of your small purse when the lady that was sat next to you spoke. She called out your name and you shot up. 

“Is it you?” she said with a dashing smile. Her teeth were perfectly straight and extremely white. She had a tan and a nose that you could ski on. 

“Yeah?” you said, a bit unsure. 

“It’s wonderful meeting you.” She stuck her hand out, of course she had a perfect manicure. 

“Thanks, you too.” You shook her hand; thankful you had at least attempted to paint your nails a colour to match your dress. “I don’t mean to be rude but who are you?” 

She laughed – obviously a perfect laugh, no snorting or high-pitched squeals – and told you her name. “I’ve worked with Pedro.” 

You cringed at the way she said his name. “Oh.” You said with a slightly pang of jealousy. “So, how do you know me?”

“Are you kidding? He talks about you all the time, sweetheart.” She laughed, completely taking you back. “So how long have you two been together?” 

Just as you were about to open your mouth to tell her you guys weren’t together and what a ridiculous suggestion that was, the bartender handed you your drink. You smiled at him and politely took a sip before turning to the woman and again. 

However, this time, Pedro was stood right next to her. 

“Pedro!” you said, a smile light up your face. You stood up, set your drink on the bar, and gave him a hug. His strong, large, warm hands rested on your hips as you tucked your head in his neck and pressed yourself against his warm skin. He smelled perfect. Like the cologne you had seen in his bathroom one too many times and like him. Like his skin and his sweat and morning mist and almonds. 

You stood back before it got too weird. You felt hyperaware of his hands on your hips and how he had kept them there. “I was just talking to-” you turned to face the lady but she was gone. “Oh, she must’ve left.”

“Leah? Yeah we worked together last year, I told you about it.” He smiled and you nearly melted right there. That gorgeous smile that revealed a dimple in his right cheek and crinkled his eyes. “You look gorgeous.” He said as he took a step back and took you in. You spun around in order to give him a full view. “Absolutely perfect.”

“So do you, ver handsome.” You took a sip of your drink in order to hide your blush. 

“Come, I want you to meet some people.” You nodded and allowed Pedro to grab your hand and lead you through the masses of people. You spent the next three hours going from group to group. You knew some of the actors, either personally - well more like from some other party Pedro had invited you to - or because you had seen them in some show or movie. You politely listened to whatever they had to say and then kissed everyone goodbye before moving on to the next group. 

Though sometimes what the actors were saying was interesting, the thing that took your attention away the most was Pedro. Whenever he laughed, he would clap his hand on his chest and lean backwards. You couldn’t stop paying attention to the heat coming from his hand when he would place in on your lower back as he guided you to the next group. 

It was around eleven o’clock when you stepped outside from some air. Pedro had offered to fill up your drink but you refused as you were starting to feel a little light headed. So, instead, he went to get you both a snack and a glass of water. 

You were standing in the apartment’s balcony, it was pretty high up but it had the most breath-taking view of the city. All around you lights from different buildings and streets winked up at you. You took a deep breath in and gripped the railing of the balcony. You were alone and did not hear when Pedro came out. 

“Hey there.” He said, he was holding a bowl of peanuts and a glass of water. “I already had some water; I hope you don’t mind sharing.” He grinned sheepishly. 

“Of course I don’t mind, silly.” You smiled and took the glass. “Thank you.” You said as you popped a peanut into your mouth. 

You sat down on one of the outdoor sofas and, sighing, lifted your legs so they laid across Pedro’s lap. You both quietly munched on the snack and stared at the sky. Pedro moved your dress out of the way, lifting the hem until your knees. He began drawing on your leg and you nearly groaned out loud at how good his touch felt. 

“So, how long are you in New York for?” you finally asked. You always dreaded this answer, he wasn’t here for long, always in one country or another filming. 

Of course, you were happy for him. He was doing what he had always dreamed of doing but a small – or large – part of you was selfish and wanted him to stay in New York so you could see him every day. 

“For a while.” He said. You look up at him and smiled. 

“Really? No show to shoot? No premier or award show to attend?” you tried to hide your excitement but failed miserably. 

“No.” he laughed. “I’m all yours.” He said as his finger glided up and down your leg. 

“Awesome.” You said, unsure what else to say. I wish you were all mine… 

“Hmm?”

“What?” you echoed looking up at him. 

“What did you just say?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, his hand had frozen highway up your shin. 

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” You sat up, pulling your legs away from him. “Fuck, did I say “I wish you were all mine” out loud? Fuck.” you thought. You probably had had more to drink than you had initially thought. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

“Yes, anyway I better get going.” You quickly stood up and before he had the chance to follow, you dashed inside. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

Quickly, you made your way through the crowds of people, carefully avoiding those you knew were chatterboxes, and left the apartment. You looked behind you and nervously began pressing the call button for the elevator. As soon as it opened, you darted inside and began repeatedly pressing the close button. 

Soon enough, the elevator reached the reception and you bolted across it. You waved goodbye to the concierge who had helped you earlier last night and quickly glanced over your shoulder as you stepped outside. Pedro was nowhere to be seen and you weren’t sure whether to be disappointed or relived. You hailed a taxi down, but they all zoomed past you, either busy or completely ignoring you. 

“Hey.” You heard Pedro call your name from behind. “Where are you running off to?” he tapped your shoulder and you spun around. 

“Hi, sorry. Just gotta get home, yknow.” You smiled, trying to play it cool but Pedro saw right past your act. 

“Okay, let me accompany you.” He stood beside you and hailed a taxi down. Of course, they immediately listened to him. He opened the door for you to get in. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. I’ll get home fine.” You said as you got in. 

“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t take you home?” he said as he too got in. 

Reluctantly, you nodded and he gave the taxi driver your address. You spent the ride staring outside and cursing New York’s traffic. Walking or the subway would’ve taken you less and maybe you wouldn’t have been caught up by Pedro. But the subway wasn’t the safest especially with what you were wearing and your feet hurt too much to walk all the way home. 

Pedro sat silently next to you, his hand on the middle seat, and eyes glued outside. When you finally got to your place, you jumped out of the taxi and thanked Pedro. However, he too stepped outside. He paid the driver and followed you inside your apartment’s foyer. 

You couldn’t exactly slam the door in his face, so you let him in and got into the elevator. You expected this ride to be just like the taxi drive, silent and a tiny bit awkward. Pedro surprised you by hitting the emergency button - which caused the elevator to jolt to a halt - and turning to you. 

“Hey, talk to me, why did you run off? And don’t say you needed to get home.” He said, he stood completely in front of you. You glanced up and mustered a smile. 

“I- well- it’s just-” you couldn’t help but glancing down at his lips and back up at his eyes. Those deep brown eyes you could just lose yourself in. 

“Yeah? You just what?” he prompted, taking a step closer to you. You held your breath, unsure as to what to do. 

“I think you know.” You finally said, you pushed your shoulders back and held your hands together behind your back. 

“Oh? I do?” he asked, he was so close you could feel his breath fanning across your face. It smelt like mint and alcohol and you so desperately wanted to put your mouth and his. 

Gently, he cupped your cheek and you let out a breath, your hands went to his chest as his other hand went to your hips. “Please let me kiss you, I’ve been dying to kiss you.” He whispered. 

You nodded and closed your eyes, waiting for the heavenly taste of his lips. Slowly, Pedro pressed his lips against yours, you let out a sigh that sounded almost like a whine, and pulled him closer by the jacket of his suit. You moved your head to the side, allowing him more space to kiss you. 

His lips felt so extremely smooth and soft, almost like what you imagined kissing a cloud would feel like. He groaned into your mouth and that noise made you weak in the knees. Pedro let his hand drop to your waist and you both walked backwards until your back hit the elevator wall. 

He pulled you up so you could rest on the safety rail. You wrapped one leg around his waist, the dress restricting your movement, and he pressed himself against you. Now it was your turn to groan. He was clearly hard; you could feel it pressing against where you needed it the most. 

He rolled his hips and you moaned again. Taking advantage of the situation, he slipped his tongue into yours. You allowed it and let your tongue dance over his. One of his hands move to your behind, he grabbed the soft flesh there and pressed himself even harder into you. His other hand went to your leg, he pulled your dress up, feeling how smooth your legs were. 

“Fuck.” He whispered against your lips as he pulled apart for air. “I want to-” 

“Everything alright in there?” a voice called out from the intercom. 

You jumped away from Pedro, slightly pushing him away. “Erm, yes, just an accident.” You coughed and tried to fix your dress. 

“Alright.” Said the voice. Pedro hit the button again and the elevator lurched into life. 

You let your fingers glide over your lips, reminiscing on how sweet he tasted.  Pedro was now leaning against the back wall of the elevator, not staying anything, as you stood near the doors. 

Finally, they opened and you stepped into the corridor. You could hear him follow you and wait patiently as you took your keys out. Once you found them, you fumbled with them until you managed to slide them into the keyhole. You turned the key and a small click resonated. 

You turned to face him and struggled to meet his eyes. He was staring down at you, his face tense as though unsure of what to do and hands in his pockets. 

“Do you want to come in?” you asked. Smiling, he nodded and followed you in. You turned the lights on and made your way to the living room. 

“Sit. Do you want a drink?” Pedro stood by the entrance of the living room, his body leaning against the door frame, and stared at you. 

“No.”

“Oh… Do you want water? Or some food?” you said as you moved your weight from one foot to another. Your heels were killing you. 

“No.” he repeated, his voice dark and low. He pushed off the door frame and took a step towards you. 

“Oh.” You swallowed and watched in anticipation as he got closer to you. “What do you want then?” you stuttered. 

“I want you.” He said as he placed his hands on your hips again. “And you?” 

“Me too.” You quickly said before kissing him. 

Pedro groaned into your mouth and grabbed you wherever he could. Your hands were on him like metal on a magnet. He yanked you up, hands on your ass. Your heels fell off, making a loud thump when they reached the floor, but you didn’t care. 

“Careful, my dress.” You breathed. He pulled it up, nearly uncovering your ass, and squeezed your thighs. He pressed you to the wall and continued kissing you. His mouth was wonders on yours, drawing out the dirtiest of noises. 

“My room.” You said. 

Wordlessly, Pedro pulled you off the wall and started making his way to your room with you in his arms. You grabbed his shoulders and felt the muscles underneath the suit. Fuck, you couldn’t wait to tear all this extra fabric off of him. Once you reached your room he dropped you onto your bed and crawled on top of you. 

You pushed the jacket off of him as his lips attached themselves to your neck. Like a starving man, he began kissing and licking your neck. His kisses were soft and harsh at the same time, his tongue sliding over what his teeth marked. You moaned his name and begged for more. 

“Clothes.. there’s too much…” you mumbled pushing him back. He laughed and began unbuttoning his shirt. Impatiently, you pulled his shirt free from his pants and undid the buttons at the bottom. Pedro grabbed your chin and made you look up at him. 

“Patience, mi amor.” he said, a smile creeping onto his face. 

“Don’t laugh at me.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I’m not laughing.” He finished undoing all his button. “You’re so beautiful, I’m just happy.” You felt a rush of heat making its way up your neck and down your stomach. 

“Oh shut up.” You covered your face. 

Slowly, he peeled your hands away from your face and kissed you gently. “You are.” He kissed you again. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” 

He was finally done with all his buttons. You pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and sighed in delight. Your hands went to his stomach, feeling the warm skin, and kissed him right above his belly button. There was a trail of dark hair leading down into his pants and for a moment you wandered if that hair grew there just to tease you. 

He kicked off his shoes and let his shirt fall to the ground. You pushed him onto the bed and pulled your dress up, so it pooled at your hips, in order to straddle him. His hands returned to their familiar positions at your hips, and you took in his chest. 

Sure, you had seen him shirtless before whenever you went to the beach or pool – or when you drunkenly searched up shirtless photos of him with your friends – but you had never seen him laying on your bed like this, his hands on your ass and eyes on your breasts. 

“I think now it’s you who has “too much clothes”.” he said, quoting you. His fingers went to your straps, leaving your ass cold, and with a nod from you, he pushed them off your shoulders. Slowly, the dress fell and left your breasts exposed. You though, you would perhaps want to cover yourself, but something about the way he stared at them made you stand up straighter. 

He sat up, pulling you against him, and kissed your chest. He moved to one breast, planting opened mouthed kisses onto the soft skin and held the other breast with his hands. He gently squeezed and let his mouth hover about your nipple. His breath fanned over it, hardening it. You pushed forward, forcing him to make contact. 

He kissed you softly, like he had all the time in world, and gently. But you wanted more, and you want it now. You had waited too long for it to be this slow. You told him so. 

“I have waited too long for it to go too fast. I’m going to take my time.” You didn’t know what was hotter, the fact he wanted to take his time with you or the fact he had wanted this for a long time too. He kissed you harder and took your nipple between his teeth. You moaned his name and grabbed his hair, tugging on it slightly. This earned you a small groan, you did it again and he groaned your name. 

His hand squeezed your other breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple. You sighed in pleasure and grinded against him. You wanted to feel him everywhere and weren’t sure how long you were going to let him “take his time” with you. He was rock hard and you were dying to see him. Completely see him. 

He moved away from your breast and swapped sides, making sure both sides of you got the same treatment. “Oh, Pedro, fuck.” You said, each moan making him go harder and faster. “Please, I need you…” 

Pedro pulled away and tugged the dress over your hips. You lifted your arms, allowing him to completely take your dress off. He threw it off the side and groaned as he took in your entire body. 

“You’re perfect.” He leaned forward and kissed your chest. You arched your back, pushing yourself towards him. He flipped you over and held himself above you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and tugged him down, wanting to feel his weight on top of you and between your legs. 

“Take your pants off.” You said, your hands fumbling with the belt. “Please.” You added after he gave you a cheeky look. 

Pedro rose and quickly took off his pants. You sat up, resting your weight on your elbows, and let your mouth fall open as you stared at his crotch. His erection was extremely obvious, it was creating a tent in his underwear. He placed his hands at his hips. 

“Wow. Okay. Come here. Now.” You pulled him towards you and kissed him, eager to get to it. 

He kissed you hard, taking your lower lip between his teeth and tugging on it. You couldn’t take it any longer, you stuck your hand between you and down his underwear and wrapped your fingers around him. He winced when you touched him and let his head fall onto your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” you went to move your hand away but he grabbed your wrist. 

“Continue.” He begged. “I’m just… really hard.” He laughed, refusing to meet your eyes. You bit your lower lip and attempted to hide the smile that was threatening to jump out. You wrapped your fingers around him again. He was thick and, you quickly discovered, long. You began stroking him and his hips began rolling, meeting you halfway. Some pre-cum leaked out of his tip, wetting your hand. You squeezed your thighs around him, eager to have him inside. 

Almost as though you had requested it, Pedro let one of his hands fall between you. He pressed his thumb against you through your underwear and began rotating it. You moaned, bucking your hips. It felt too good. 

“Please, let’s…” you didn’t have to say anything else. He laid on your side and placed his warm hand on your lower stomach. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, slowly itching downwards. 

“Yes.” 

“If you want me to stop at any time, tell me.” He said as he stared into your soul. 

“Yes.” You looked away, terrified your eyes would betray your deepest secrets. 

“Look at me.” His voice was low and husky, it made that warm feeling in your lower stomach drop lower. You turned to look at him, the hand that wasn’t on your lower stomach tucked your hair behind your ear before returning to its position holding him up. 

He kissed you gently and slowly slipped his hand under your underwear. You gasped as his finger touched you, it was barely anything but with Pedro if felt like everything. He moved his finger in small circles and watched you, entranced by the soft noises you were making. You grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. 

Gradually, he slipped a finger inside of you, just one, and kept it there. You looked at him, mouth slightly open, and nodded. He slipped another finger and curled them. You fell back, unable to support yourself, and squeezed his shoulder harder. Pedro began slipping his fingers in and out, each time he entered you he curled them. His thumb began drawing small circles just where you needed it. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment, and opened your hips, giving him all the space he could need. 

“Fuck.” You breathed as he stroked something deep inside you. 

You arched your back, pushing your breasts into the air. As though by invitation, Pedro placed his mouth around your breasts and sucked. His kisses were harder this time but you welcomed them. Your hand went to his hair, tugging and scratching his scalp. The joint pleasure coming from his hands and mouth was overwhelming. You pushed your hips onto the bed and breasts into his mouth. 

“Pedro… I’m gonna…” you moaned. He picked up his pace and helped you reach the place you had been chasing. You felt that pleasure ripple through you, erupting from between your legs and reaching all the way down to the tip of your curled toes. It then rushed all the way up and exploded out of your mouth as a series of moans, whimpers, and pleas. 

When you finally came down your chest was rapidly rising and falling, as though you had ran a marathon. Pedro had pulled his finger out from you and was holding them in front of his face. You turned to look at him, your vision slightly blurry, and watched in awe as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. 

You pulled him to you, urging him to rest his weight on you, and kissed him. You kissed his neck, his sweat tasted sweet. You licked a line across his jugular vein and felt his rapid heartbeat under your tongue. 

“That was really good.” You said. “Your moans drive me crazy.” 

He rolled his hips against you and you moaned again. “Mmhm, just like that. You like this?” you nodded and he did it again. “What do you want now?” 

“You.” 

“You have me.” You looked over at him and gave him a look. “C’mon, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.” he pressed his hips against you and arched an eyebrow. 

“Well… Okay…” you looked up, not wanting to reveal how flustered he made you. 

“Yes?” he cupped your jaw and kissed you. 

“I want you in me.” You finally said. 

“Lets get rid of these then, huh?” he said, tugging at your underwear. Pedro kissed his way down your torso until he was level with your hips. He hooked a finger around the band of your underwear and pulled it over your hips, knees, and, eventually, feet. He flicked them off to the side before taking you all in. “Fuck.” He said before planting a kiss right between your legs. He licked once before kissing your inner thigh. Then, he kissed his way back up to your lips. 

“Your turn.” You said, a smile tugging at your lips. Your hands went down to his underwear and you tugged it down, making him completely bare. You glanced down and let your mouth fall open. Pedro wrapped his hand around himself and pumped it a couple times. 

“I’m on the pill.” You blurted out. 

“That’s good.” He said, smiling down at you. 

“Are you- like, clean?” 

“Yes, even though I’m an actor-” 

“And a heartthrob.” You interjected. 

“Yes, right.” He laughed as he made his way back to you. “- I don’t go sleeping around with everyone.” 

“No, yeah, right, I didn’t meant that. Just…” 

“I’m messing, I know what you meant and yes I am. You?” 

You nodded. 

You reached your hands out and placed them on his shoulders, they were broad and warm, his skin felt reassuring under your fingers. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. Pedro lined himself up and momentarily pushed his hips forward. You sucked in a breath and shut your eyes, your legs squeezing him. 

“Hey, relax, okay?” he kissed you gently and you nodded, relaxing your thighs. He pushed in a little more and you let out a moan. He was stretching and filling you up in all the right ways. He pushed even more and you gripped his shoulders. His head fell beside yours, his voice was sweet like honey and reaching parts of you that you didn’t know existed. His words were carefully and perfectly chosen. 

Finally, he was all the way in. He groaned and rested his weight on you. He was heavy but it felt oddly reassuring, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and sighed, causing him to inch further into you. 

“Please, Pedro, move.” You urged. 

He complied and slowly pulled himself out halfway before sliding back inside. Each movement causing you to moan his name. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his, as he picked up the pace. Your hands were desperately moving up and down his back, one slid down to his ass and you gave it a squeeze. He didn’t seem to mind so you squeezed again. This time he reacted, he pulled himself further out and slammed into you. The noise of his flesh against yours was almost deafening. 

You grabbed his hair and pulled so he turned to look at you. His eyes were half closed, and mouth half opened. You kissed him and he kissed back with a force to match his thrusts. You felt him go deeper and deeper. His hands went to your face, cupping your cheek. You squeezed your legs around him. 

“Can I go on top?” you asked, pulling your lips away from his. 

“Yes, of course.” 

You both awkwardly rolled over and gasped at the new angle. His hands went to your hips, thumbs slowly drawing circles onto the soft skin. You spread your legs and moaned as you sunk further onto him. That feeling that drove you wild was starting to build up again in your lower abdomen. 

His hands started to guide you, urging you to rock forwards and backwards. You gladly complied, moaning at how gratifying it felt. One of his hand went to your left breasts and squeezed it. You leaned towards him and kissed him. His lips were a taste you could not get enough of. His tongue danced around yours at a beautiful pace. You pulled yourself up slightly and lowered again. He gasped. You did it again. He gasped again. 

“You like that?” you said. 

He kissed you harder and began lifting his hips to meet you halfway. As though this was a dance you had practiced for many hours in order to perfect, the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. His hand squeezed, tongue licked, hips bucked. It was perfect but it couldn’t last long. 

“I think I’m close.” He said, almost apologetic. 

“Please cum in me.” You begged, surprised at how pathetic you sounded. 

In one quick motion, Pedro spun you around, holding you tight against his chest as he did so. He grabbed your hands and pinned them over your head with just one of his and resumed the thrusting of his hips. Then, his other hand settled between the two of you and his thumb began rapidly circling your clit. 

You moaned and moved, chest pressed against his, legs wrapped around him and quickly squeezed. His movements were becoming irregular and sloppy. 

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. I’ve been staring at you all night in that dress. You’re - shit - fucking perfect.” He said as he pounded into you one last time before grunting in pleasure. 

Just then, the overwhelming feeling that had been building itself deep inside of you toppled over. 

“Don’t stop.” You said as you felt him slow down. 

Pedro listened and bucked his hips hard. You pushed your shoulders into the bed, hands tightly gripping his hair, and let yourself enjoy the pleasure. You rolled your hips against him, hyper aware of the warmth shooting into you. You collapsed into the bed, chest heaving even faster that before. 

Pedro collapsed onto you, his weight comfortably crushing you. You stroked his hair as he nuzzled his face into your neck. 

“Was that also really good?” his voice was muffled. 

“Even more.” You said, happily sighing. Pedro pulled away from you as you whined in protest, him leaving your body felt like a betrayal. You were left empty, cold, and bare.

“Gotta get you cleaned up, mi amor.” He laughed. 

He walked into the bathroom and you grinned at the sight. He had an amazing ass. Fuck, you couldn’t look away. You rolled over in the bed to get a better view. Your smiled grew even more when he turned around, his boner not fully gone yet. 

“Damn.” You said. 

“Thanks?” He plopped down on the bed with a towel in hand and helped you get cleaned up. 

Then, you slid under the duvet. He clicked into placed behind you, his arms wrapping around you and dwarfing you. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and let his fingers dance over your thigh. And into the darkness, he spoke your name. 

“I don’t know what that meant to you…” He began. “But that was special to me. I’ve honestly been wanting to do that for a long while.” 

You froze as though remaining as still as possible would also freeze the moment, like any sound would shatter this dream and forcibly pull you back to a cruel and lonely reality.

“And, erm, you?” he nervously asked when you remained silent. 

You rolled around and stared up at him. “Me too, Pedro. I really like you and not just as a friend.” You smiled and kissed him. 

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of him. You gasped when you felt something poking your butt. 

“Put that away!” 

“You don’t want a round two?” he smirked. 

“Pedro!”

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 54: Alexander's Tutor

Prev > Masterlist > Next

December 1815

Despite being wrapped in several layers of wool with hat, gloves, and scarf to match, the winter wind was chilling Lex to the bone. The evening was clear, with a bright moon overhead, and deceptively cold. Lex couldn't fathom why his voice teacher had chosen to hold practice so late in the dead of winter, yet another of his eccentricities. If he weren't one of the finest tutors in the region -- stern but fair and deeply knowledgeable -- Lex would have surely gone elsewhere by now.

But music was his heart's great passion, and he'd already seen such improvement under Master Laurent's tutelage. He really had no choice but to brave the winter and hope that his vocal cords weren't frozen solid by the time he arrived. So he soldiered onward, trying hard not to think about how much more pleasant it would be back in his chambers, curled up by the fire with a good book.

"There you are!"

Lex was suddenly clapped on the back by a strong hand. He turned to look into the grinning face of his close companion Anders. Anders was wearing only a sweater, not even a hat, his unruly mop of blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight. "Aren't you cold?" Lex asked.

"No. I'm made of sturdy stock," he said, laughing. "But you must be cold, seeing as you're bundled up so tight I could barely tell who it was."

"If you ask me, I'm the one who is being sensible," Lex said. "Without a hat, your ears are going to freeze and fall off. What would Master Laurent say if you went deaf?"

"I wouldn't mind. I wouldn't have to hear Thomas's awful squawking right behind me." Anders leaned in to look at Lex's face. "Are your teeth chattering?"

"No," said Lex, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Poor little princeling, can't handle the cold."

"I'm certainly not a princeling."

"A little lordling, then. Don't worry, my lord, if you can't make it to your practice, I'll have to carry you."

"What --" Lex had no time to protest before Anders scooped him up in his arms and began to dash down the street, laughing at the top of his lungs. He couldn't help but cling to Anders's sweater. "Anders! You're going to slip on the ice!"

"And drop my lordling? Never."

"I hope your ears do fall off."

"What a rude thing to say to me, while I hold your very life in my hands!"

Anders looked down at Lex with that beaming smile, and Lex couldn't stop his heart from fluttering. He was a handsome lad, and Lex had been struggling with feelings he'd rather not entertain for some years now. Stunts like this were certainly not helping.

When Lex and Anders arrived at their lesson, cheeks red with cold and laughter, the choir room seemed strangely colder than usual. Master Laurent had a roaring fire in the hearth, as he always did -- it wasn't the temperature that was different, exactly, but the atmosphere. Master Laurent himself was standing behind his podium, busily arranging music sheets. Some of the other young men were huddled in the corner, whispering amongst themselves.

There was a strange man standing near Master Laurent, tall and thin and dressed all in black, with a foreboding nature about him. He was looking at the students with an expression that somehow conveyed both indifference and disdain, and seemed to be the source of the frigid mood. Something about his sharp gaze made Lex feel uneasy -- but thankfully, he barely paid Lex and Anders any mind as they took their places for practice.

"Quiet and take your places. It's time to begin," said Master Laurent, standing up straight. "Today, I've invited… an acquaintance of mine to observe the class, one who also happens to be an excellent music tutor. Now, let's begin our vocal exercises…"

Lex thought it a bit strange that Master Laurent hadn't introduced his acquaintance by name, but that thought was quickly driven from his head as he concentrated solely on his music. He had the finest voice in the choir, and it wasn't mere boastfulness for him to say so -- he had been told by respectable men, even Master Laurent himself, that his voice was unusually clear and arresting, effortlessly capturing a listener's attention with its rich tones. His voice, his skill at the piano, and his carefully curated collection of books were his chief joys in life, and it was easy for him to become lost in the music as he sang, feeling almost driven by a power greater than him.

That is, it was usually easy for him to focus. Tonight, however, he was becoming all too aware that he was being observed. A nervous glance revealed what he suspected -- the stranger in black was no longer regarding the group of boys with detachment. Instead, his gaze was trained on Lex and Lex alone, piercing as an arrow.

Lex swallowed hard and steeled his determination. Well, if this man wanted a performance, he would give him one. He'd show Master Laurent's acquaintance why he was the finest young voice at the university, and make his teacher proud. With confidence backed by talent, he hit every difficult note in the solo, his voice ringing from the rafters and holding the rest of the chorus spellbound.

Finally, practice was over. The stranger finally left his post to whisper something to Master Laurent, and freed from the weight of his gaze, Lex turned to Anders.

"Impressive," said Anders. "I've never heard you sing like that. You performed that solo as if you were possessed by a muse."

"I felt like I had no choice. That strange man was staring at me the entire time."

"Was he? I was trying to ignore him."

"Alexander?" Master Laurent was waving him to the front of the classroom. "A moment of your time before you leave."

"Yes, sir," said Lex. "You go ahead, Anders. I'll catch up to you once I'm done."

As he walked over to Master Laurent, Lex realized that the stranger was already gone.

"I have an exciting opportunity for you, Alexander," said Master Laurent. "One which you shouldn't refuse."

"What is it?"

"My acquaintance was so impressed by your voice that he wants to offer you private vocal lessons."

"I'm flattered, sir, but I already have private lessons with you."

Master Laurent looked pained for some reason. "His talent surpasses my own, I'm afraid. You won't find a finer music tutor in the country. It's one reason why he's so secretive -- he only takes on students of his choosing, and he chooses very few. He told me that your voice surpasses any he's heard in many years."

"It's kind of him to say so."

"…I don't think he's saying it out of kindness," said Master Laurent. "I strongly encourage you to accept the offer. My reputation is on the line."

Something felt wrong about all of this, but Master Laurent always had a way of setting Lex at ease. Besides, what harm could extra vocal lessons do? "…I suppose I don't see why not, if he's as skilled as you say."

"Excellent! Now, just one thing. My acquaintance is very private. He even keeps his name hidden. What's more, if the rest of the chorus learns that you've received an opportunity they have not, it might create bad blood between you. That's why I'm asking you to tell no one about this, not even Anders."

Lex wanted to protest, but truthfully, he knew Anders probably would be jealous. "All right. May I at least write to mother and father about this?"

Master Laurent looked oddly pained. "He really prefers his privacy," he said. "Besides, won't your parents be surprised when they attend the holiday concert and hear your improved voice? Don't you think that would delight them, if they didn't know beforehand?"

Lex nodded slowly. His parents didn't always take his musical talent seriously, preferring if he went into a more practical trade. It would especially be good to impress his father.

"Good, now that that's decided," his teacher said. He took a slip of paper and scrawled an address on it. "Here. It isn't far. Go here tomorrow evening at eight o'clock sharp, and knock three times at the door. Don't be tardy -- he won't accept tardiness. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Lex said, trying to shake off the odd dread that had consumed him.

"Good, good. Run along now."

"Thank you, Master Laurent, and have a good evening."

"Wait!"

His teacher's voice stopped Lex at the door.

"…You're a good student, Alexander. One of the best. You always have been."

What an odd thing to stop Lex to say. After all, he had another lesson with Master Laurent in just two days, and he always praised Lex when he'd done well. "Thank you, sir," he said, putting the slip of paper in his pocket and heading back out into the harsh winter wind.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Thank you for reading this brief interlude into the past. Next, back to Oliver.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dear Crowley, I heard this dashing and very intelligent fox beastman is looking for a job. He used to work as a manager at a popular theme park, so he probably has a ton of experience! Maybe he'd make a great addition to the staff?

The way I choked laughing when I read this interaction 🤡

I decided to structure this interaction like a job interview between Crowley and Fellow (facilitated, of course, by the Reader/Prefect's written recommendation). I thought it would be funnier this way! (Note: Fellow is definitely sugarcoating, glossing over, outright lying, and laying it on thick in some of his responses, but since this is framed mainly from Crowley's perspective, these inconsistencies are not pointed out.)

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

This is the one recommended for the open teaching position?

Crowley eyed the man standing before him. He was beastman, as per the Prefect's description, with a pair of red fox ears and a fluffy tail.

A crimson-lined violet jacket, half a cape tossed over one shoulder, was secured over an olive vest and a snug waist. Golden embellishments and starry badges dangled from his lapels, and the same sparkles studded his top hat. Fun patterns cut into diamond windows raced up his dark green trousers. His long legs were crowned by knee-length spats, and he held an elegant cane topped with a fox in his gloved hands.

His look was professional yet playful.

The candidate was handsome—no doubt about that—and the keen gleam to his eyes implied a sharpness, a pointed wit, about him.

A horrible thought occurred to Crowley: He's not more dashing and intelligent than me, is he? No, no, it simply cannot be done! There’s no one fairer than I!

The headmaster brushed off his concerns, vanity placated, and cleared his throat.

"Let's see here... You are Fellow Honest, correct?" Crowley referred his provided resume. It was handwritten and contained a number of spelling and grammatical errors.

"That's my name! Don't wear it out," the beastman chirped with a wink and the twirl of his cane. "Fellow Honest, at your service."

“Please tell me about yourself, Mr. Honest.”

“Well! Not much to say, I’m afraid. I’m just a wanderer down on his luck, lookin’ to find his way in the world. I saw your job posting and thought I should shoot my shot.”

“I see on your resume that your last position was as a theme park manager…? Why the sudden shift in career, if I may ask?”

"You see, I've always been a lad of big hopes and dreams. I went into the entertainment industry wanting to spread that positivity to others.

"My park used to attract quite a few families and their children, so I came to know the kids quiiite well! They'd tell me stories of their school days, talk about the things they'd want to become in the future. So full of imagination and wonder. I realized I wanted to be a part of that process. Teaching them, guiding them... so they can be the best adults they can be!"

Fellow chuckled—it slid off his tongue easily, as though his laugh was slick with honey. "I thought I'd be the one inspiring them. Turns out, the kids were the ones to light a fire under my tail."

"My, what a stirring story!" Crowley cried out. "I can tell that your passion for working with children is true~

“Now then, why Night Raven College? There are any number of schools you could apply to if you wish to lend your assistance to the youth."

"It's true. I thought to start my own school before this," he confessed, "but Night Raven College called to me. Its graduates are influential, the school's reach immense, and the headmaster most magnanimous... I figured if I wanted to make an impact, this was the place to do that."

Fellow hesitated.

"... And, as one bright young boy once told me, Night Raven College is a place where everyone and anyone is welcome. Even someone from as humble a background as myself can fit in here."

Crowley found himself nodding along with his narrative. The shower of praise was making him feel flattered and floaty—and the more Fellow talked, the more the headmaster felt himself leaning into his words.

But the interview questions. They were not through yet.

The thought slowly sobered Crowley up. His resolution returned, duty and honor-bound to pick the most qualified candidate for the job.

No time for fun and games, not now.

"How would you describe your own magical capabilities? As you know, NRC is an establishment meant for training tomorrow's mages. To that end, many of our tenured professors boast a strong history of magic themselves."

"Ah, that." Fellow’s smile was wry, playing off the anxious little tug at his cravat. “That is…”

“Answer the question, Mr. Honest.”

“Dire, Dire, Dire—may I call you that?” He paused, but failed to grant enough time for a response. Fellow moved fast, talked fast—his cane spinning fast, fast, fast. “I’ll be the first to admit my magical might isn’t on the same level as that of your colleagues.”

Crowley frowned. “Then I’m afraid we cannot proceed with the interview. It would be rather challenging for the students to learn from a teacher who has yet to master magic themselves...”

Fellow’s face fell. “You’ve already made up your mind?”

“I apologize, but this discussion is over.”

“H-HOLD IT!!” he protested, his polite facade dropping. Anger and upset flared on Fellow’s vulpine features. “Where do you get off, cutting me out the very moment I mention…”

Crowley’s expression hardened, the grip on his staff tightening. “Oh dear, it looks as though this interview is headed south.”

Dark power roiled up from within him. The binds on his strength, snapping. Fellow whimpered like a fox backed into a corner by a larger predator.

“A-Ahahahah… Please forgive my outburst, sir~” he simpered, sinking back into his seat. “I-I’d still like the chance to explain myself, oh-so-generous headmaster!!”

“You may,” Crowley replied. His face was almost entirely shrouded by the shadow of his mask. His expression, unreadable.

“You’re right. I… I don’t have a lot of magic to spare. But…!! Even if that’s true about me, I don’t want the students to think like that, judging their own worth based on what an institution says is desired or not.” Fellow’s fingers curled into shaking fists in his lap. “In an ideal world… everyone can pursue their dreams without discrimination, without being told they’re not enough.”

“The final question for you,” Crowley announced grimly. “How do you plan to instruct if you cannot lead by example? How will you instill the lessons and values of Night Raven College?”

“Magic isn’t everything,” Fellow fired back passionately. “It doesn’t matter how much magic history they can recite or how many fancy spells they know.

“What’s most important to me… is that the students find enjoyment in what they learn and can make use of it. That’s how I’d teach them. Practically, and in a way that allows them to laugh and enjoy life for the fun that it’s supposed to be.”

“Hmmm.”

Crowley stared him carefully, like a crow nestled amid the tree branches. Watching, listening.

For the first time, he felt as though he was witnessing the true Fellow Honest.

His interviewee heaved a deep, dramatic sigh, a hand running through his hair. He barked out a bitter laugh.

“I get it, you bigwigs never want to hear what us little guys have to say. I’ll see myself out. It was a waste of my time to try this again. I knew I should have struck out on my own."

Fellow headed for the exit, stomping unhappily, his violet cape trailing behind him. From the other side of the door, a small cat boy in oversized clothes peered in.

“C’mon, Giddie,” Fellow snapped, “we’re done here.”

The child obediently followed. He stumbled in boots that were untied and far too large for him. Still, the concern in his young face did not waver.

Crowley’s eyes followed them until their figures vanished out of sight—but the applicant lingered in his mind. He returned to Fellow’s handwritten resume, mind wandering to the answers the beastman had offered. Different answers, but nonetheless ardent ones.

“… Interesting,” Crowley mused, his lips pulling back into a smile. “Most interesting.”

He's an applicant to consider.

[geralehane]

Divorce, but Rhaenyra’s still fighting for them and Alicent finally gives them another chance

full disclosure: i listened to taylor swift’s ‘dress’ while writing this

“Mrs Hightower—‘ 

“It’s Ms Hightower, Coleen.”

The young assistant gulps. “Yes. Of course. I’m so sorry—“

Alicent sighs. “What is it, Coleen?” 

“Well,” the man - the boy, really, just a wisp over twenty one - falters, clasping his thin fingers together. He really tries, bless his heart. It can’t be easy being an assistant to them both. Not that Alicent had any say in that. 

“Well?” She prompts him when it becomes clear he won’t follow up. 

Coleen gulps again. “Mrs Targaryen is here for her scheduled meeting.” 

Of course she is. 

Alicent sighs again, glancing at the clock. “You how, technically, she is also Ms Targaryen,” she points out, unnecessarily and largely rhetorically. “Just - let her in, and you may go. I mean it, Coleen. It’s a quarter past six, why are you still here?” 

“Mrs Targaryen - I mean, Ms Targaryen — she really insists on being addresses as Mrs, you know, “ Coleen babbles, his face growing more and more red with each word, and - Gods, she really needs to make it easier for the lad. At the same time, perhaps Coleen would feel more comfortable with a different manager. 

“Fine,” she cuts him off just before he’s seemingly about to hyperventilate. “Please send her in.” 

Coleen barely squeaks out a goodbye as he dashes out of her office. An exact minute later, the self-proclaimed Mrs Targaryen waltz in like she owns the place - which, she will, in a couple of years at most. 

Alicent doesn’t even lift her head from the printed out financial reports. “I would appreciate it if you got right to it, Rhaenyra,” she says, her voice neutral. “I was hoping to finish early.”

Her ex-wife - and current headache - cocks her head to the right, looking very much like a very naughty, very self-assured puppy. “Oh? Have a hot date or something of the sorts?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business since we’ve signed those papers,” Alicent retorts, finally meeting Rhaenyra’s twinkling blue eyes, “but no. The only ‘hot date’ I have is myself.” 

That stupid smirk. “Speaking from personal experience,” Rhaenyra drawls, quietly, “it’s arguably the hottest date you’ll ever have.” 

Alicent sighs. Again. Seems like all she does lately is fucking sigh. “Rhaenyra.”

“Alicent.” 

“Is there an actual point to this charade, or are you simply exploiting another opportunity to harass me?” 

At that, Rhaenyra looks actually hurt; Alicent hates how the look on her stupid handsome face makes something deep within her chest twinge with guilt. 

A second passes, and it’s gone. Rhaenyra clears her throat and speaks. “I do have a work-related reason for this meeting, believe it or not. Spending time with you is just an added bonus.” Before Alicent can scoff and retort, Rhaenyra’s face grows serious. Actually serious. “I need your help.” 

Despite the sincerity of Rhaenyra’s gaze, Alicent snorts. “What could I possibly help you with?” 

“Financial fraud,” Rhaenyra says quietly. At Alicent’s frozen expression, she snorts. “Not committing it, obviously. But.” She glances around, which is honestly ridiculous considering thy are in a closed, very private office. “Look - I have reason to believe the Stepstones documents are… murky, at best. I need a trained eye to take a look at them.” Blue eyes search hers, earnest and serious for once. “You’re the best in the field. And, more importantly, you have my absolute trust.” 

Alicent can’t hold back a scoff. “Wish I could say the same,” she mutters under her breath. 

Rhaenyra hears. Judging by her tense jaw, she hates that remark. Yet, impressively, she lets it slide. “I can’t order a full-scale audit because they’ll just cover it up before it even starts. It can’t be anything official at this point. It has to be quiet. But if I’m right…” Alicent watches as Rhaenyra takes a deep, steadying breath. “That would mean enormous proceedings. Might mean actual sentences for some people. I’m barely holding Daemon back, at this point, but we’re running out of time — ”

“Gods,” Alicent interrupts her, with a roll of her eyes. “Daemon is involved?” 

“I couldn’t very well take it to my father, now could I?” 

“Could have been a wiser choice. Actually, let me rephrase that. Anyone but Daemon would have been a wiser choice.” 

“Well. I’m taking it to you, aren’t I?” 

Gods. She could never truly say no to Rhaenyra’s begging gaze. Unless your marriage was involved. 

Alicent swallows, and pushes that thought back to the back of her mind. “Fine. I’ll take a look,” she half-says, half-warns as Rhaenyra’s whole face lights up. “That’s it. And if it turns out to be a fluke, you owe me.” 

Blue eyes are alight with badly hidden longing. “I’ll owe you either way.” 

// 

Rhaenyra absolutely set this up on purpose. 

“I can quite literally find out if there’s any discrepancies if you get me excel files of all this,” Alicent points out, brow arched as she takes a look at all of the paper folders currently flooding her desk. “It would take me about an hour. Most of the work would be done by my laptop.” 

Her ex-wife blinks at her. 

“We don’t have access to those,” she says, innocently. “If Laena tries to download them, we’ll be breaking the law, too, won’t we?” 

Not really - at least not to any serious extent, Alicent doesn’t think. But it’s the sight of Rhaenyra clutching a folder in one hand and their takeout sushi in the other, suit jacket unbuttoned and tie skewed. 

Don’t lie to yourself, at least. Lie to anyone but yourself, Alicent. 

She sighs. “Fine. Let’s just get to it.” 

//

Rhaenyra starts her old song as early as their second night together, spent hunched over historical Stepstones reports. “You were always a vision in green, you know.” 

Alicent throws a chopstick her way without looking. “Do shut up, darling.” 

//

She doesn’t shut up. But Alicent should’ve known. And she had, really - had known all along what she had signed up for, why she has signed up for it, even. 

She just hasn’t anticipated, in all honestly, for this to blow over this spectacularly. 

“I was willing to work through this!” Rhaenyra all but shouts, jaw locked and fists clenched, top buttons of her shirt undone. Angry, aggressive, attractive. “You were the one who served me papers—“

“—After two years of neglect,” Alicent hisses right back. “Two years, Rhaenyra. Two years I stood by you and watched you self-destruct with no end in sight. You’d disappear for weeks, and then come back looking half-dead. You wouldn’t listen to me no matter how I tried, and so - I stopped trying.” 

For almost a minute, no one speaks. Alicent’s breath is ragged, and heavy, like it used to be back when they’d get into this. Rhaenyra is frozen, unmoving.

Then, she swallows. “I want to try,” she says, quiet and - pleading, almost. The silver of her hair is escaping her simple updo, and Alicent has to fight the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. “I know - I know I was an absolute arsehole throughout this entire ordeal, but - I just,” she grins that self-deprecating grin that never failed to make Alicent want to soothe it with her lips, and really, is there even a point in fighting about this? “I can’t do this without you. Or - really, I can, but I don’t want to. You’re the only one I’ve ever really wanted. The only thing I ever truly needed was being with you.” 

And really, how is a woman supposed to turn that down?

Well, quite easily, of course, if it were simply that. But it’s not. For the past year, Rhaenyra has been consistently stepping up. From rehab to finally taking the rightful reins and accepting responsibility at Viserys’s company - being a pain in Alicent’s arse in the process notwithstanding - she’s been proving herself. 

And even if she hadn’t, Alicent has simply missed her wife too much to say no to this improved version of her.

//

It’s somewhere around round number three that Alicent finally figures it out. 

“The contractor companies,” she all but pants as Rhaenyra slowly nuzzles her neck, revving her up for round four. It's entirely unfair just how well she knows her body. “Rhaenyra. Wait. It’s not the income versus profits. It’s in the third-party payouts.” 

Rhaenyra’s sharp lips form the most textbook pout known to humankind. “Really,” she states more than asks. “You’re thinking about that now?” To further demonstrate her point, she digs her fingers into the flesh of Alicent’s naked hips under the hiked pencil skirt. 

Alicent gasps. And, after a quick yet wonderfully deep and dirty kiss pressed to Rhaenyra’s pout, she pushes her ex-wife off of her. 

“Oh, come on,” Rhaenyra complains, half-heartedly, but Alicent is already on her feet, back to her renewed mission. 

“Hush, you,” she throws over her naked shoulder. “You’ll get to have me as many times as you’d like once we head home.” 

Strong arms circle her waist while she pours over the papers with new determination. 

“Home,” Rhaenyra murmurs. “I quite like the sound of that. Would you like your mushy peas now, my love?”  

She presses a distracted kiss to Rhaenyra’s brow. “Yes, please. Thank you, darling.” 

“Also - see? It wasn’t just a ruse to get you back.” 

Alicent rolls her eyes at that, sparing her - ex? - wife an impatient glance. “As if you’d need a ruse,” she says. “I only agreed because I clearly knew where this would end up.” 

“With me knuckles deep inside y—“ 

“Peas, please. Now.” 

It’s only after another deep kiss that Rhaenyra wills herself to saunter off, a self-satisfied smirk firm on her lips. “I am deeply and irrevocably in love with you, Alicent Hightower,” she says, as they part. “Just so you know. Thought I’d make that perfectly clear.” 

“Oh,” Alicent says. 

“Shall I swing by your favourite chippy, too?” 

“Gods,” Alicent sighs. “You really do love me.” 

That stupid, lovely smirk. “I really, really do.” 

By the time Rhaenyra’s back, Alicent has it all figured out. As a thank you, Rhaenyra keeps her up till sunrise. 

[aalinaaaaaa]

Day 2 — Before the Blue Embers

As part of @rheas-chaos-motivation 's writing challenge!

Word count: 1,326

Synopsis: What Miriyia, Markus and all the ordinary denizens of the city of Waydeirie believe to be just an ordinary celebration of the princess' birthday, turns out to be anything but.

—

They say it is good luck to leave a gift on a birthday.

The windowsill is a prime position for it, a vessel of exchange between a resident and gift giver. From here, romances wilt and blossom, alliances forged over handmade trinkets.

On the night of a royal birthday, local legend says that the royal in question will exchange a gift on one of the windowsills, and potentially change that person’s life forever.

How does one know that a royal has gifted them? People have their assumptions.

Miriyia ventured out for strawberries. Her sister once said a handsome noble told her that they were Princess Estyia’s favourite fruit.

Validity of the claim aside, she thought it befitting to make strawberry tartlets.

The market sellers perched themselves around the Circle of Resilke, the part of Waydeirie that thrived the most. Flowers poured out from boxes and baskets, with vivid ivy overtaking the walls of the city hall, where people gathered to convene and also to dance their lives away.

The seven-spired castle behind it all never failed to catch Miriyia’s attention. It towered over the rest of the city, visible from almost any part.

She wondered what the royals did behind those walls.

“Do you mind holding this for me, love?” A young lad sprinted past her, shoving a glowing, pink thing into her hands. It sizzled and pulsated, getting softer by the second.

“What? No.” She threw it into the fountain, where it burst into pink smoke and magical sparks, turning the water a light pink.

She coughed as she walked away, her nostrils clogged with the scent of all things sweet.

Two other men dashed in the direction of the mystery lad, their path obscured by the pastel smoke bomb.

Miriyia approached one of the sellers, a lady with white flowers in her coiled hair. The green mid-sleeved dress she had blended well with the gentle brown hues of her skin, the one stand-out piece the blue phoenix pendant around her neck.

“Are you alright, dear?” The seller wrapped her branch-like digits around Miriyia’s. “I saw the human shove a smoke spell onto you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, my hands are okay, I think.” Miriyia opened her satchel, ensuring the jam jar was still there. “What was going on with him?”

“I don’t know.” The seller shrugged, opening her hands. “He seemed to be altercating with two others, mentioned something about a weapon.”

“A weapon? Of what sorts? What is he going to do with it?”

“I’m not the one for those kind of details. My trade is fruits and honey, that’s what I know. What can I get for you, miss Kaivje?”

“Can I get these, please?” She pointed to the pot of strawberries, handing the seller the jar of blackberry jam in return.

She unbound the lid for a moment, smiling upon inspection of it. “Ah, this is a fine jam. Did you make this?”

Miriyia nodded, a sudden chill going down her spine. The men seemed to have left…

“Well, is there anything else for you, dear?”

“I’m happy for the moment, bye now.”

Rather than take a browse at the other sellers like she usually did, Miriyia turned straight home, with thoughts of tartlets and pastel bombs on her mind.

—

The sun set in record time, casting the kitchen under the dim glow of sunset.

Miriyia beamed at her creations, a plate full of tartlets with one cast aside near the window.

“Are you ready, yet?” Her lover, Markus, strode in, leaning against the doorway in respondent attire.

She looked to her market dress, covered in white powder with a few red splatters.

Splendid for the evening ball, sure. “What do you think? I have my tartlets done.”

“I see that.” He bridged the gap between them, his hazel-green eye directed towards the plate. “May I?”

“Of course.”

He gave her a cheeky peck on the lips before taking a tartlet, his taste buds singing with each bite. “Miriyia, you are gifted. Are you sure these aren’t spelled?”

“Only to make you love me more.” She kissed him on the cheek before heading upstairs, assuring him she’d only be a few minutes.

More than a few minutes later, she descended the stairs, now fit for a fine evening of revelry.

—

Before she left, Miriyia placed the gift tartlet on the outside windowsill, not knowing what time the princess would show up, if at all.

As the pair walked towards the hall, she noted all the other windowsills adorned in gifts, from jams and breads to statuettes, glassware and jewellery. By night’s end at least one of these things would get exchanged.

For now, the pair joined their fellows in heading to the city hall, hoping only for an excellent ball.

Within the walls of Waydeirie Castle, the official celebration of Estyia Verlova’s birthday unfolded, the castle lit up with light and colour.

—

“I’m going to get a drink, do you want one?” Miriyia asked.

She strode over to the nearest drink maker, ordering a fine glass of lemon, lime, and white wine infused with ice fish blood. At the first taste, she thought the smell resembled ashes and rotten flesh.

Befitting for a fish-blood cocktail, she supposed. She sipped again.

Somewhere in the crowd, her beloved waited for her, dancing amongst the tangle of limbs in the meantime. Her mind pondered going back to him, ignoring the strange tang of ash and bleeding the night away.

No amount of loud music nor alcohol could drown out her instincts, shouting and screaming at her to turn around and go to the entrance.

Chances were of someone letting their fire magic get out of control. Perhaps a stupid prank, or just nothing but her alcohol-tinged senses getting the better of her.

She emerged at the entrance, her eyes drawn straight towards Waydeirie Castle.

Flames rose from the centre of it, burning a hole near the central spire.

A number of others watched in horror, their gazes transfixed on the fire unfolding before their eyes.

Glass shattered, with an enormous plume of blue flames snaking up around the central spire. The flames culminated in the form of a blue phoenix, spreading its fiery wings wide before splitting into blue embers.

“Fate save us.” She said, out of habit.

Some people started screaming, others shouting, and a few crying.

Miriyia found herself wont to do all three. The books, scribes and Recordkeepers warned of this.

No one, however, spoke of Fate’s impending appearance in her lifetime.

Blue, flickering sparks floated through the sky, interspersed with red embers and ash.

Miriyia took a spot beside another reveller, holding her while she cried. Tears formed in her own eyes, clouding her sight.

When her lover brought her into his sturdy arms, the tears streaked down her face.

He stumbled in place, keeping her in his hold. She noted the messiness of his steps, the shock written all over his face.

“Did you see the phoenix?”

“The what?”

Miriyia swallowed a lump in her throat. “Fate’s back. She sent her flames out of the castle.”

“That- That can’t be.” Her feet found purchase on solid ground, though with reluctance.

“Surely you just had too much, right?”

She shook her head. “Look at all these people. Do you think it’s all intoxication? Look at the smoke and ashes up there, look at the castle.”

His demeanour shifted, calming, his eyes wide in horror.

“Now look at me.” He looked down. “I would give my life and the tartlet for this to be a dream. We all would. This is what they talk about in the myths, the legends, the ceremonies. Our world is ever closer to unending ruin, and I just want to go home.”

She dropped into the crook of his shoulder. “Please, just take me home.”

So he did.

When Miriyia woke up the next morning, she found two things beside her.

Markus, and the princess’ tartlet.

—

Taglist (General + Flamebearer, ask/comment/message me if you'd like to be added or subtracted) : @mundanemoongirl @scarletteflamerald @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @ceph-the-ghost-writer @feathers-little-nest @outpost51 @mattresses-and-macaroni @limitlesswritingvoid @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart @thelaughingstag @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @bigboicol-theflamingcol @original-writing

[radiokiran]

The Price of Love

How he wished he could turn back the clock, make the world spin against its motion, and take it to the point just before he had challenged her. Mayank was outside the intensive care unit of IGMC Shimla, praying fervently and choking on guilt.

Parul lay inside unconscious, with all her senses numb with medication.

He recalled his first meeting with this headstrong schoolgirl who would leap at any challenge thrown her way. Mayank had set his eyes upon her five years ago at the Shimla University Campus where he had come to submit his own form for admission in B.Tech. Parul was there too, standing in the queue with her friend Tanya- two young aspirants for the undergraduate Law course. 

Parul felt a gravitational pull towards the sprawling campus and then Mayank overheard her say to her bestie, “What a bore standing in the queue! Let’s pass it on to someone here and go hunting for some tall hunks.”

“What nonsense Parul! Be serious. We have to catch our bus back to Mandi at 2 o’clock.”

“Oh, come on! It's only 10 o’clock. You hold my form here. I’ll venture alone. See you at the University Main Gate after I’m done”, said Parul as she darted off.

Just one sight of this reckless Himachali lass clad in a printed pink salwar kameez with rosy apple cheeks, clear fair skin, two long braids, and almond eyes made Mayank’s heart skip a beat.

With his form submitted, he traced his route back to the sleepy town of Ludhiana where this handsome Punjabi lad, with well-chiselled features and a tall muscular frame, hailed from.

The admission forms found their way to the right place and a month later the successful aspirants, having secured a seat, were back on the campus to attend the new session.  Mayank was placed in Room 26 of the Neer Boys’ Hostel and within a week he was tagged as Parul’s lamb, for everywhere she went, he was sure to follow.

Cheeky but harmless ragging was still on the campus. At midnight, came a knock at his door.

He staggered to the door with drooping eyelids that opened wide in a flash as he saw Parul at the door with an impish smile as she breathlessly hissed, “Good night fifty”, giggled, and made a dash from there, hastily exiting the boys’ hostel. Mayank needed someone to pinch him to tell him it was not a dream!

The next morning, the hotel mess was abuzz with the midnight episode. The daredevil newbie had knocked not just at his door but almost at everyone else’s too all to win a bet of five thousand bucks!

That sure skyrocketed her to fame and popularity and almost everyone got talking to her casually. So did Mayank as luck would have had it when she was chatting with his friend at the cafeteria.

Two months later they were again sitting in the cafeteria, but more closely drawn than before.

“Parul. I want to say something.”

“Yes, go on.”

 “It’s something to do with our relationship. Yes, I mean just that. I don’t believe in friendship. I am not your friend. I never was and will never be. From the day I first saw you, I felt an irresistible attraction. I can’t define it but I was sure I wanted you as mine,” he blurted out with all the guts he could muster and then felt a trifle sheepish.

Parul’s rosy apple cheeks turned crimson, she felt all flushed with fever and tore herself away. From then on, she started avoiding Mayank leaving him feeling so miserable and restless.  He approached her after four days of despondency.

“Why have you turned your back on me, Parul? What’s wrong with you?”

“Mayank, leave me alone. You said whatever you had to. Now let me tell you, I am here with a focus on my studies. So let me be,” Parul blurted and rushed towards her hostel.

The more she pulled herself away from him, the more he hankered for her. His heart teemed with love and pure love for her. He would hang around her hostel for hours together just to catch her glimpse while she appeared unmoved by it. 

One day Tanya approached him rather purposefully.

“Hello Mayank, how are you?”

“I am fine Tanya,” Mayank sulked. 

“Mayank, I really do feel so bad to see you like this. If you are so serious then make Parul understand your love.”

“But how?”

“Make her jealous. Ignore her and go for another girl. If Parul does feel any love for you at all, she won’t be able to take it.”

This sounded good but it left him feeling even more confused.

“But how can I toy some other girl? What would she think about me? And I don’t think anyone will be ready to be part of this crazy game plan, Tanya.”

Tanya smiled, “Mayank, I’ll do anything to help you. Parul is my bestie and I know her better than anyone else. She deserves to have a strong and bold guy like you.”

“Are you serious? How can I thank you?”

 “I kinda feel envious of Parul, now. Anyway, let’s begin our game,” she smiled and left.

The next day onwards Tanya and Mayank were always found together.

“Parul, did you notice that everyone is talking about Mayank and Tanya,” one of Parul’s friends ribbed.

“Why are you telling me?” Parul roared.

“Sorry, actually we all had thought that Mayank loved you. Tanya is so lucky. Everyone knows that a boy’s heart changes with the weather.”

Parul’s face fell.

The next day, Parul spotted Mayank and Tanya sharing a table in the cafe.

“Hey Parul come here,” Tanya screamed.

“Why should I come, you backstabber,” snapped Parul as she slapped Tanya on her cheek.

 “How dare you!” Mayank reacted.

“Mayank, how dare YOU! It’s me whom you love.  Everyone in the college knows this,” she cried.

Mayank was on cloud nine. “Tanya, if true love comes with a price, the price would be all worthwhile if I was spending it on Parul,” he said ecstatically.

 “This was one big act, my dear,” Tanya smiled at Parul who stood confused.

After a year, Parul asked Mayank to quit the hostel so that she could stay with him.

“Are you nuts? Just think what’ll happen if this news reaches our homes?”

“I have thought it over; they will learn about our relationship sooner or later. So why not start living together now?”

Soon they had moved in together in a cosy room near the hostel and their intense love and live-in relationship was the talk of the town. This setup was short-lived as Parul’s elder sister came to know about it and came all the way to pull her away to her native place and make Parul sever all contact with him.  

Mayank sunk into despondency. His heart ached for her and everyone on the campus was concerned about him.  Their second-year final exams were approaching and one day Tanya came to him with a letter.  It recognized Parul’s handwriting.  Grabbing it, he darted towards a secluded place and his head spun as he read.  

“Dear Mayank

I know you must have been badly jolted by the way we were torn apart. Things are bad for me here. I have become the butt of everyone’s taunts. My mother too did not understand and slapped me. But I care for no one except you.

My father wants me to sit for the second-year exams. I’ll let him have his way. But I want you to put an application at the registrar’s office to book our marriage on the same date. I plan to quietly sneak out of the examination hall 15-20 minutes after the paper starts. I will meet you outside the registrar’s office. It’s a matter of life and death for me and the last chance for us to unite, or else my parents will marry me off to somebody else. See you there!

Yours lovingly

Parul”

Mayank thought hard. He knew his family was just as adamant as Parul’s. Had they known, he too would have been dragged to Punjab by now.  too. He saw his world, his future in Parul.  He said to himself, “Love is the true price of love,” and found himself tracing his way to the registrar’s office.

The date came and there he stood with Raj and Tanya, waiting for his ladylove to show up.  

“Hello sweetheart”, she cooed from a distance and rushed to hug him. “I can’t believe this; so we are getting married. Hurry up.”

Mayank was over the moon and his confidence was teeming. Within half an hour they came out of the registrar’s office, a newlywed couple.

This news sure got home to both their families and the daggers were drawn.

Mayank’s father boomed, “You don’t exist for us from today.”

“I’ll believe I had no girl named Parul,” Parul’s mother whimpered, finding it difficult to control her tears.

Mayank and Parul were left with no choice but to go on with their lives in unison. It was a struggle, to carry on with their studies and do part-time jobs to make ends meet. Love held them together and after a bumpy ride of four long years, Mayank got a regular job in the Military Engineering Service; he was posted at Dagshai. Things started to look up for them and they tried again to reconcile with their parents but more curses came their way.

Standing outside the ICU, Mayank recalled how he had planned a grand 5th-anniversary party for Parul.

“Parul, I’ll send Bhanu Bhai by car to Solan to get all the things needed for the party.” Bhanu was a Nepalese whom he had recently employed.

“I will also go”, Parul said.

“Why? There is no need for you to go. You manage the preparations at home,” Mayank said calmly.

“Mayank, you always act arrogant and don’t allow me to be independent.”

“If you had known driving, I would have sent you alone,” Mayank tried to reason. But this enraged her further.

“Are you challenging me, Mayank? Just wait and see, I’ll learn to drive from Bhanu within the next six days.”

“It takes about 6 months to learn to drive properly, and you dream of it in six days,” Mayank laughed.

Parul kept to her resolve and her progress surprised everyone. She had understood the whole mechanism of driving in four days. Bhanu informed Mayank, “Sir, Bhabhi is a wonderful learner. She has picked up very fast.”

Finally, the D-day came and Mayank reluctantly allowed Parul to accompany Bhanu, adding a word of caution. “The way from Dagshai to Solan is very tricky so don’t you think of driving, okay?” He turned to the driver and spoke firmly, “Bhanu, don’t give the steering wheel in your Bhabhi’s hands.”

“Of course, not, Sir”, reassured Bhanu and set off with Parul. It had been only two hours since they had left, and Mayank began to feel restless. He came out of his office and heard some commotion in Dagshai. A voice came from the distance, “A Maruti Zen car has fallen in the gorge.”

“What colour was it,” Mayank shouted.

“Grey, Sir, A lady was driving it”, the man replied and moved away.

Mayank’s heart sank, and he made a quick dart at the accident site with his colleagues. Rescue operations were going on. The Maruti Zen had nose-dived in a gorge 150 meters down. Survival seemed dismal and all Mayank could do was pray.

He learned that on the opposite hill, an Army Unit was on exercise and the moment they had seen the car fall, they rushed to help. The Army was trained for such exigencies; for a civilian, this would have been impossible. After a six-hour rescue operation, Parul was pulled out all soaked in blood, and rushed to Indira Gandhi Medical College (IGMC) Shimla. Mayank told the army personnel to continue the search operation for Bhanu. He was informed that Parul had been found stuck between the branches of a tree 50 meters above the base while the car had gone spiralling down and hit rock bottom.

Mayank had gathered his wits and called up Parul’s father.

 “How dare you dial my number? Parul is dead for us.”

“Sir, please don’t disconnect the phone. I just wanted to tell you that with your blessings Parul is truly on the brink of death”, Mayank cried bitterly.

After a moment's silence, Parul’s father asked,” What’s wrong with Parul? She was so happy with you or so she said. We want to see her!”

Mayank told them about what had happened.

He then called his own father and lamented, “Papa, Parul is dying. How right you were! I will never prosper with Parul. I’ll also kill myself rather than live without her.”

“Mayank, what has happened to Parul? Where is she?” He discerned his father’s concern for Parul for the first time ever.

Parul had been in the ICU for the last 45 hours. It was heart-wrenching for both the parents when they reached there. They prayed feverishly, blessing her countlessly, regretting bitterly the curses they had heaped on her in the past. One of Mayank’s friends came on the scene and took him aside to break the news. Bhanu’s dead body had been brought up after ten hours.

Parul asked about Bhanu as soon as she gained consciousness. “I’ll never be able to forgive myself if something goes wrong with him. It was I who had coerced him into letting me drive the car. I saw a cow in front and tried to avoid it…” Parul began to cry.

“Bhanu is fine Parul. He had some minor injuries and after treatment, he went back to Nepal. And see who has come to see you!”

Parul broke into tears seeing her parents after five long years and received blessings from Mayank’s parents. After a week, she was declared out of danger and doctors recommended one year’s bed rest as she had multiple fractures which would take time to heal.

Mayank thought he would wait to unfold the truth about Bhanu to Parul till the time she could be strong enough to handle that devastating news. He was broken from the inside and begged like a child for forgiveness for Parul and himself from Bhanu’s family. He assured them of all possible monetary help for them till he was alive.

Ever since he first set his eyes on Parul, he had often mused about the price one has to pay for true love. He stood in anguish and remorse and realized, grief was the price love had paid for being in the same world as death.

[windwheeler-aster]

your consequences

summary: after travelling for so long, you and alhaitham are more than ready to get a good night’s sleep in. however, there appears to only be one bed... perhaps now is the time to address your feelings for each other, hm?

masterlist | advent calendar

pairing: alhaitham x reader

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader has been traveling for a while with alhaitham, and reader is not traveler

word count: 770 words (3 mins~)

genre: romance, fluff, confession, one bed trope

format: one shot

warnings: kissing/making out and suggestive if you squint

a/n: hehehewhew, alhaitham💖 a dashing young lad, ain’t he? a nice guy to write for. many thoughts about him. but hope you enjoy this💖

The snow storm had transformed into a blizzard just as you and Alhaitham had checked in. The innkeeper was kind and ushered you two to a spot near the fireplace. They couldn’t do much else, as they had to tend to other guests after they signed you two in, but they did hand you both a warm drink. The kind gesture was still appreciated by Alhaitham and you, though.

Once you two had entered your shared room with Alhaitham, exhaustion overcame you. It seemed to have seeped into your bones, making your movements sluggish and painful, and it caused you to flop onto the nearest bed. You sighed heavily as the blanket’s texture brought a heavenly comfort to you, and the pillow you groped for was just as nice. 

However, your brief moment of bliss didn’t last long as Alhaitham realized something.

“There’s only one bed,” he murmured.

You rolled over so you could look at him, “Do you care?”

“About which part?” Alhaitham began to shrug off his coat. “The room with one bed for the price of two? Or sleeping with you?”

“Sleeping with me,” you clarified for him.

“Obviously, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“‘Obviously’?”

“Yeah,” Alhaitham said, as if he did not just say something so bold and flustering that it made you a mess in the bed. “What about you? You okay with sleeping with me?”

“Of course.”

“‘Of course’?” He parroted.

You flipped over to your preferred side of the bed and began to climb under the covers, “Yeah, now go to sleep, pretty boy. I’m tired— you look tired— so go to bed.”

“‘Pretty boy’?” Alhaitham whispered hoarsly, his cheeks flushing a beautiful scarlet red. He didn’t want to seem desperate, however, all traces of dignity and self preservation were lost in his sleep deprived state. Which led Alhaitham to flip you over, slow enough not to shock you, and face him. “Alright, you’ve got to explain yourself now.”

“There’s nothing to ‘explain’—”

“Yes, there is!” he whispers harshly, lowering his face down so it now hovered only an inch above your own. “You’ve been flirting with me this whole trip! It’s— oh my goodness, it’s so—”

“— does it make you uncomfortable?” you asked, worry and fear eating at you as you stared at the gray-haired man. You had indeed been flirting with him this whole trip, as his responses and reactions always made you smile. However, you didn’t consider that those reactions could be coming from a place of unease and—

“Archons no,” Alhaitham reassured you. “It’s so flustering, that’s what I was trying to say.”

“Oh,” you say, dumbly.

“And I just— I need to know, that this isn’t some screwed up game to you.”

You frowned, your heart breaking slightly at the fearful expression on Alhaitham’s face. Slowly, as you did not want to startle him, you began to caress Alhaitham’s cheek. Then, you slipped it up to his hair and began to part it in a way that made him appear even more handsome to you. 

“Oh, archons above, Alhaitham,” you said gently. Then you met Alhaitham’s eyes and softly smiled, “I would never dream of it.”

“Good, because my feelings aren’t something you can toy with,” his eyes darted from yours to your lips, causing his own to part slightly, “not without consequences.”

“Oh? Consequences such as…?”

He was now only staring at your lips, “May I show you…?”

“Gladly, Alhaitham.”

Your chest burned, with longing so deep it hurt, as he moved his body impossibly closer to yours. Then, his lips came crashing down onto your own. And Alhaitham’s actions were clumsy at first as he positioned himself comfortably over you. However, as the kiss progressed, it became more fluid and passionate with each second you went without air.

Finally, you two did break apart. Alhaitham panted over you, his cheeks a lovely pink now. He chuckled at your equally flustered expression, falling back onto the bed as he regained his breath.

“Good night, Alhaitham,” you murmured, sleep drowning out your excitement as your exhaustion returned. “See you in the morning.”

“What? No good night kiss?” he teased, settling in next to you so that his chest pressed against your back. 

“I just gave you a good night kiss!”

Alhaitham chuckled, “Alright, sweets.”

Then, he leaned over so he could press a kiss to the side of your temple. He also moved his arms so they had a firmer grip on your hips now, giving them a gentle squeeze as he closed his eyes too.

“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning too. Sweet dreams.”

taglist:

@x-zho  @cxlrosii​ @i23kazu​

(send an ask to be added or removed)​​

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

[wistfulcynic]

do you know why we have the sunflowers

Prompted by this:

I refuse to apologise for my excess of italics. 

AO3

-

Stede Bonnet loves museums. 

He always has, from the very first time he visited one as a child, on a school trip. A trip that was, in all other respects, thoroughly unmemorable. The standard ragging from the Badminton twins and their cohort, the standard lonely solitude, just Stede and his books and his thoughts. 

He remembers the painting, though. 

He remembers the two men on the deck of their ship, so vividly rendered in strokes of oil that he fancied he could feel the wind as it whipped through their hair and filled the sails of their vessel. He remembers the way they stood, proud and fearless. He remembers how they stood together, united, joined by an unmistakable thread of connection, palpable even through paint and across three hundred years. He remembers the ache of yearning in his young chest. How he wanted that. That unity. That connection. That someone who would look at him the way the pirates in the painting looked at each other. 

No one ever looked at Stede Bonnet like that. 

No one looks at him like that still. Not his parents, not his ex-wife. Not even his children. He moves through life as he moves through the streets of London, alone amidst the seething crowds of people—families, friends, lovers. But none for him. Never for him. 

He still loves museums, though. 

He’s the curator of the 18th century wing of the National Gallery in London now, a dream post, one he’s worked his whole life for. He should be triumphant and he is, truly. Just... quietly triumphant, and mostly to himself. The fact that he has no one to share it with doesn’t matter, really, he tells himself. Going in to the museum every day, knowing that it’s his place, a place he’s earned, that makes him happy. Happier than he’s ever been. It’s enough. 

When he acquires the painting, the painting, the one he first saw as a lad in Auckland all those years ago, his happiness is complete. Every day he goes to his gallery and stands in front of that painting and just looks at it. He stands and he looks and he feels again that ache of yearning in his chest. 

Gradually he comes to realise something, a most peculiar thing, a thing he’s not sure quite what to make of. One of the men in the painting, the man on the right, the blond man with the short, pointed beard and the dashing mien, the billowing white shirt and the turquoise sash around his waist, that man… he looks like Stede. 

Just like Stede. To the point that it’s eerie. He never noticed it as a boy, of course, how could he have? But now that he’s older—the same age it seems as the man in the painting—the resemblance is unmistakable. 

He grows a beard, out of academic curiosity he tells himself. Just to see if the resemblance is enhanced or hindered by it. He lets his close-cropped hair grow out a bit, more like the shaggy curls depicted in the painting. He introduces colour to his wardrobe, bright blues and cheery greens, even the occasional cheeky yellow. Getting dressed in the morning becomes a treat and not a chore. 

He finds he no longer collides with people in the street because they fail to notice him. Instead, strangers nod as he passes and return his cheery smiles, even on occasion make small talk in queues. They chuckle when he makes a mild joke. He starts making jokes on purpose. When he does, people laugh. They laugh with him and not at him. To Stede, this is a revelation. 

This more confident, more colourful Stede, delighted beyond measure at how perfectly he now resembles the man in the painting, begins to look more carefully at the other man. The one who, even as a child, he found almost too magnificent to gaze upon. That tall, handsome man dressed all in leather, his long hair and beard wind-whipped and glorious, who looked at Stede’s painted doppelgänger with the softest eyes Stede has ever seen. 

His new confidence notwithstanding, still no one has ever looked at Stede Bonnet like that. 

“Helluva painting isn’t it, mate?” 

Stede turns from his perusal of the leather-clad pirate, surprised and delighted to hear the cadence of a familiar accent. It’s rare that he meets another Kiwi in London, despite the fact that the city is full of people from every corner of the world. 

“You know, it’s funny,” the voice continues. It’s deep and resonant and it caresses Stede’s skin like cashmere. “I remember seeing this painting when I was a boy in New Zealand. I think I stared at it for a solid twenty minutes. The rest of the class moved on without me, teacher had to come back and practically drag me away. Can’t recall the teacher’s name but man, I never forgot that painting.” He turns his head so Stede can see his whole face. “This is gonna sound mad, but would you say—do you think that that man, the one on the left… do you think he looks like me?” 

Stede is struck speechless, gaping. Mouth hanging open like a fish. Because yes, he wants to say, yes. The man in the painting does look like you and if anyone can declare that with authority it’s Stede. He’s only been looking at that painting every single day for the past year. The man beside him has the same height and build, the same long hair and magnificent beard. And when he turns and their eyes meet, Stede’s breath catches in his throat. The eyes are the same as well, that soft warm brown, and as they take in Stede’s face they widen first in recognition and then in awe. 

“It’s you,” he breathes. “The man, the other one. He’s—he’s you.” 

Stede knows he must say something, anything really, and so he blurts out the first words that come into his head. 

“Are you real?” 

It’s a ridiculous question and he feels foolish for asking it, but the man’s lovely eyes just crinkle at the edges as he laughs. Laughs with Stede, not at him. Stede knows the difference now.  

“Real as you are, mate. I’m Ed.” He holds out his hand. 

“Stede,” Stede replies, taking it. An electric thrill dances along his skin, from the point of contact clear to the tip of every nerve ending he possesses. He barely holds in his gasp. “I’m the, uh, curator. Of the museum. Well, not the whole museum, just the eighteenth-century portion but that’s not important really, what’s important is that me too.” 

“You too?” echoes Ed. 

Stede nods eagerly. “Me too. I also saw this painting as a boy in New Zealand. I couldn’t take my eyes off it either. And I—”

“Never forgot it?” 

“Never forgot it! Acquired it the first chance I got. Only realised later that it was, er—that the man in it had—” 

“Your face?” 

“Yeah.” Stede gives a little shrug. “My face.” 

“It’s a nice face,” says Ed, and the sizzle on Stede’s skin grows hot. He realises he’s still holding Ed’s hand. 

“Do you know what I like best about it?” he asks.

“About your face?” 

“No!” Stede protests, before he realises Ed is teasing. He can feel his cheeks go pink but he presses on. “No, not about my face. About the painting.” 

“What do you like best about the painting?” 

“It’s the way they look at each other,” says Stede. “The way they’re so connected and the looks on their faces, it’s—” 

“Love,” Ed finishes. His voice is gruff. “They’re in love.” 

“They are.” The words almost choke Stede. He has to force them through the tightness in his chest. “I couldn’t see it as a boy. I mean, I saw it. I felt it. But I didn’t know what it was. All I knew was that I wanted someone to look at me like that. But no one ever has.”

“Never?” 

“No. Not—” Stede breaks off, caught in Ed’s eyes. The look in them takes his breath away.

Ed holds his gaze as he releases Stede’s hand, as he cups his instead around Stede’s jaw, fingers sinking into his hair, curling around the back of his head and tugging him closer. 

“Not until now,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on Stede’s. 

The kiss starts out soft, tentative. Stede’s never much cared for kissing; he’s had little practice at it and none of it great, despite his ten-year marriage. But this kiss, this kiss—it lights him up from within, that electric tingle sinks through his skin and into his bones. He finds himself leaning in to Ed’s body, gripping his waist, giving a small, helpless moan that draws a deeper one from Ed and then the kiss grows hot, wet, completely inappropriate for a rainy Tuesday morning at his place of work but Stede could not possibly care less. 

When it ends they just stare at each other for a moment, wide-eyed and gasping, and then in perfect unison they turn, as though drawn by a thread, to look at the painting. 

The two men in it are smiling down at them. At them, of that there can be no doubt. Ed’s lookalike gives them a wink, while Stede’s nods with a pleased, proud smile. “I knew you’d find him,” Stede hears his own voice say, in his head to be sure but the words are as clear as though he’d spoken them himself. 

He turns to Ed. “Did you hear—” 

“Yeah,” Ed replies. “I did.” 

When they look back again the painting is just as it always was. 

“Come to lunch with me,” says Ed, abruptly. 

“It’s ten thirty in the morning!” 

“Brunch then. I know a great place, not far from here.” 

“Oh?” Stede’s so happy he feels like his blood has been replaced with champagne. “Where’s that?” 

“My restaurant.” Ed grins at him. “Just opened it. Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill, it’s called.” 

“Ooh, fab name. So you’re… planning on staying in London, then?” 

“For as long as London will have me,” says Ed, and Stede knows he’s not just talking about London. “So. Brunch? I have marmalade.” 

Stede gapes at him. “How—how did you know I love marmalade?” 

“Lucky guess,” says Ed. His eyes twinkle, with warmth and affection and interest and yes it’s finally real, it’s really, actually happening. Someone is looking at Stede Bonnet Like That. 

Right here in his beloved museum, in front of his most treasured painting, the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes on either painted or in person is looking at him in the way he’s always dreamed of but never thought he’d know. 

And there’s an ache in his chest again but it’s no longer a yearning one. It’s yearning fulfilled. It’s completion. It’s happiness.

It’s love. 

“Brunch sounds great,” says Stede. “It sounds perfect.” It feels like the start of something spectacular.

And so it is.  

-

[hiraethenthusiast]

"I love you most."| t.h.

pairing: actor!tom x reader

warnings: floof attack.

synopsis: tom gives you the best wedding you could've gotten. he's in love with you madly, that's what he says.

a/n: guess who wants this? i do. i absolutely adore a loving husband no matter what, and i adore heartfelt gifts even more! i hope you all like this fic, this one's really close to me! tpwk everyone!

listen to clinton kane's i guess i'm in love

--------------------------------------------------------------

“So do you, Y/N Y/L/N take Tom as your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest asks you while you and Tom look at him with impatience in your eyes.

“I do.” You say, making everyone cheer and making Tom smile.

“And do you Tom Ho-” “I do!” He shouts before the priest could even complete his sentence, making everyone at the altar erupt into laughs.

“Let him finish bubba” You laugh along, signalling the priest to go on when Tom mutters a small ‘sorry’ to him.

“Do you, Tom Holland, take Y/N Y/L/N as your lawfully wedded wife?” He asks again, while Tom looks at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“I do.” And everyone cheers once again, and you gently squeeze his hand.

“So I shall now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The priest says lastly before getting off the stage and as if on queue, Tom sweeps you under his arms and holds your waist before pressing his lips to yours. The moment was wholeheartedly content, his and your parents, both with tears in their eyes, even Paddy and Harry shed a few, because the moment was so pure to just not cry at. Tom kisses you as if he was the luckiest man on Earth, like he had achieved something which he thought he could never. He pulls back to look at you beaming with the biggest smile he’s seen on you in years, and smiles to himself once again.

This was the best day of both of your lives till now, and there was no doubt about it.

After 4 years of being together, Tom finally proposed to you, and then forgot where he kept the ring, but you couldn’t care less because the man you were in love with was now, going to be a forever favourite in your lives. And today, he was now your husband from your fiance, and you couldn’t be anymore happier.

You both settle down after roaming from one place to another greeting every guest that had attended your wedding, finally for a drink and some food. Harrison sits right behind you, completing the duties of best man with all his will, and you smile at him. The twins and Paddy come in a bit later, but your eyes are looking for someone else. Where’s Tom? Your question was answered when you hear the clinking of a glass, just to find your handsome husband there.

“May I have your attention please?” He looks directly at you and you blow him a kiss, him pretending to catch it making everyone laugh. Actors.

“Thank you all for attending and being a part of our very wonderful day, I swear you guys are our favourite people” He says while chuckling.

“Today is the day I married my wonderful and stunning lover, Y/N and in recognition of that, I decided to give you the best gift of this evening.” He says, making you wonder what he got for you.

“I remember when Y/N once told me that she always loves heartfelt and handmade gifts filled with love more than people buying her the gift of her choice. She likes the element of surprise, as she likes to say. So Y/N my darling, I thought you might notice and scold me for it but you didn’t, not even once in this 4 year old relationship, and trust me this is going to shock you. I’ve managed to record every important and goofy moment of our lives, from falling on a staircase to the time I proposed to you, I have it all. I’ve compiled them into one sweet video for you, while your favourite singer of them all, Mr. Clinton Kane sings a song for us! Please give him a huge round of applause!” You jerk your head to the place where Clinton enters from, and he waves at you making you wave instinctively as well.

You look back again towards Tom, who was smiling sweetly at your little fangirl moment and continues.

“I’d also like to thank Harrison and Harry for helping me edit this video, because I’m literally so dumb without anyone of these four with me.”

“Can you put the lights out and start the video please?” He asks one of the workers there at the venue, and jogs up to sit down beside you, giving you a small peck while you take a hold of his hand.

And on queue, the lights are dimmed and the video starts to play. You can hear the faint strumming of the guitar that Clinton is currently playing, but you aren’t able to identify the song just yet. You look ahead towards the screen, and your eyes light up when you see Tom dressed up in his wedding tuxedo, you finally realising that this bit was filmed just a few hours ago.

“Hello my lovely wife! Well, I’m filming this part before the ceremony starts but I think I’m pretty certain on showing you this video after we’re married. This was...boring. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the video my love, and don’t hit me when we get home! I love you so so so much, enjoy!” He says before shutting off his camera, while everyone laughs at his goofiness and you glare at him playfully. The video rolls again and you look forward, but suddenly realise the song. It’s ‘I Guess I’m In Love’, you say to yourself. Tom had proposed to you after a few days when the song came out, and somehow on the night of him proposing, this song was played. You labelled it ‘our song’ and he happily obliged. 

“Haz hold the camera correctly for god's sake...” You hear your husband’s voice and move your head towards the screen, smiling brightly.

“Oh I’m obsessed. With the way your head is laying on my chest.” Clinton starts, immediately soothed by the presence of your lover and the melody in your ears.

“I am holding the camera nicely mate bugger off! Nikki taught me well!” Harrison says in the background making everyone giggle.

“She’s coming shut up” 

“What’s this Tom?” You ask him, as he looks at you like a kid in love.

“Y/N”

“Tom” You say in the same manner, feeling anxious by the second.

“So we’ve been dating for 4 years and trust me those have been the most beautiful four years of my life. I know this is so out of the blue, but Y/N Y/L/N, will you do the favour of marrying the person who loves you immensely? A.k.a. Tom?" He says and you laugh. You hold on for a few seconds, looking in his eyes which were filled with desperation.

"Yes" You say and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. He can't stop beaming and searches for the ring in his pocket, only to find out that he didn't have it.

"Oh I'm a mess. When I overthink the little things in my head."

"I have the ring I promise." He says, moving frantically.

"Tom-"

"I swear I kept the ring in my pocket-"

"Tom-"

"How can I be this stupid you probably don't want to marry me anymore-"

"TOM!" He jerks his head towards you as you shout his name.

"It's okay. I just want you right now." You say and he immediately hugs you, the tightest of them all.

The clip ends and you knew the tears were coming very soon, Tom senses the action and rubs your knuckles., giving you a hearty smile.

The second clip rolls in soon, your eyes brightening almost instantly.

"You seem to always help me catch my breath. But then I lose it again, when I look at you, that's the end."

"Why the hell are we on the top of the Eiffel Tower? And why do you want your phone to crash?" You ask him, while he struggles to make a video with his phone while the winds roar at the top of the monument.

"Because I want to remember this moment!" He shouts, making you smile even more.

"My goof"

"Your goof"

"You're lucky I love you"

"I wouldn't have it any other way darling" He says and gives you a quick peck on the lips, this moment too pure to realise.

"Why do I get so nervous when I look into your eyes? And butterflies can't stop me falling for you."

"Now we may invite, a very handsome young lad, who happens to be Spiderman, Mr. Tom Holland!" Harry shouts in the video, while you all pretended to have a grand gala when you couldn't attend Tom's premiere.

He walks in wearing a black tuxedo, his shirt buttons open from the top, looking dashing.

"Thank you for inviting Harold, but please, call the star of today's night." Tom says, making everyone groan about how in love he was with you.

"Patience Thomas. Now may I present, the queen of today's night, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!" Everyone applauds as you walk down the stairs as you hear your name. You reach the door wearing a red and black dress, the clothing complementing your body more than ever. Everyone seems to keep clapping but your attention is towards that one dummy, who's standing like he's seen a ghost.

"..Oh wow." He's speechless, and everyone knows it. You blush at your boyfriend's gesture and nudge him in the shoulder, as a signal to stop staring.

"I hope you all understand that I scored a jackpot, thank you" He sees and everybody laughs.

You laugh along with the other guests, remembering the faint memory from over two years back. This was one of the most fun nights you've had with Tom. While you laugh at the clip, all Tom can do is stare at you in awe. How did he get so lucky, he thinks. He watches how your face glows when you see someone happy on the screen. He truly was blessed.

"And darling this is more than anything I've felt before. You're everything that I want, but I didn't think I'd find. Someone who was worth the wait of all the years of my heartbreak. But I know now I've found the one I love."

"Please don't go" You sniffle on Tom's shoulder, asking him to stay one last time before his flight leaves for Atlanta.

"If it was in my hands darling I'd never leave your side." He says, trying to hold back tears.

"It's okay, I understand." You say, pulling back and clearing your throat.

"Awh Y/N please don't cry." Tom tries to persuade his emotions by telling you to stop, but a tear falls down his cheeks in an instant.

"I'm sorry." You say, chuckling lightly, making Tom chuckle too.

"I'll be back before you know it."

"I know you will be"

"Please board the flight for Atlanta which leaves at 1330 hours" The flight attendant announces, and you know it's time to let him go.

"Come back home to me soon okay?" You say, wiping your tears.

"As soon as possible"

"I love you" He says.

"I love you more."

"I love you most." You can't argue with that now.

"Bye bubba" You say, giving him one last kiss, a very long one indeed, that left you both searching for oxygen.

"Bye darling" And he leaves to board his flight. You look in the same direction until he disappears and you turn around.

"Harrison, are you crying?"

"No-" He sniffles and you laugh.

You knew you were going to cry as soon as you saw the location. This was one of the hardest moments of your life, letting your lover go away from you for so long, and you weren't ready for that. You wiped your tears while Tom rubbed your hand with one of his, the other cleaning his tear stained face. You look back to see Harrison crying once again, and you laugh a bit at him before giving him your hand for comfort. He really was the best man. You blow a kiss to your family and Tom's, who were currently high on emotions. Even the brothers had tears in their eyes. You really did get the best family.

"And I love the way. You can never find the right things to say. And you can't sit still an hour in the day. I'm so in love, let's run away because us is enough."

The rest of the video were some clips of you and Tom being goofy and so in love, which were a delight to watch. The song played in the background, adding its own special touch, which was necessary to bind this moment together. All these moments which Tom managed to shoot secretly were a lifelong reminder of how much your person loved you. He loved you.

And that is all you need.

The video gets over and Tom looks at you with puppy eyes.

"So, how was it?"

"You're the reason my makeup is ruined and I have mascara stains" You say, laughing while crying.

"That good, huh?"

"That good." You say and he pulls you in for a hug and kisses your forehead.

"I love you bubba"

"I love you more" He says, kissing your cheek.

"I love you most." 

He couldn't argue with that.

"But I know now I've found the one I love."

--------------------------------------------------------------

tagging some friends who'd like to read!

@evanssimpybaby @hollandsmushroom @tomsoxytocin @scarletspideyy @leafy-holland @t-lostinworlds

[will-o-the-witch]

Heard you're accepting chonkers. Here is my charismatic boy.

Omg what a handsome and dashing young lad

[systlinsideblog]

Wait our son is marrying WHOMST

Darvon stared at the gleaming armor the men at his door wore. He knew Bloodguards when he saw them; his own son had been one for many years now. Foicatch’s letter had indicated that the Queen had agreed to spare a few Bloodguards to escort them to the Keep and back, but he had not expected six of them, or a carriage. A wagon maybe, but not a carriage.

“Who in the Pits is it that the boy wants to get hitched to?” He said this aloud.

“Commander Foicatch instructed us not to tell.” The young man who said this must have been about his son’s age. “He said he wants it to be a surprise.” A pause. “Though he did say that we could tell you that it was a lady of some status.”

Minella had been hurriedly setting some last-minute things to rights around the house and gently bossing the boys about as they hauled out the trunks and got them loaded into the carriage. She came up behind Darvon and hooked a thumb into the back of his belt, an affectionate little gesture she’d done a thousand times in their years together. “He’s a charming lad, Darv. You know that. And just as handsome as his father, and brave, and a hero.” She beamed at him; she’d been wildly anticipating this trip since they’d gotten Foicatch’s letter. “Is it such a thing to imagine that he caught the eye of one of the ladies at court?”

“Ah, I suppose not.” Darvon smiled back at her. “He does look right dashing in that armor.” He tilted a head at the Bloodguards standing arrow-straight around the door, waiting as            got the trunks strapped down.

“Commander Foicatch is a fine man. He’s well trusted by the Queen.” The young Bloodguard sergeant looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

Minella beamed even more brightly.

              Stellas city itself looked little different from any other city Darvon had ever seen. The one difference was the great bulk of the Keep, looming above the city as the land sloped upwards to the wall of enormous ancient trees that marked the beginning of the Greatwood.

The streets of Stellas city were in good repair, but the carriage still jolted and swayed as the wheels bounced over cobblestones. Darvon was grateful for the deep padding of the carriage seats.

People shuffled aside when they saw the carriage coming, calling cheerfully to the armored Bloodguards accompanying it. Minella was staring raptly up at the keep, looming larger and larger as they drew near the base of the rise that led up to the great fortress.

“Do you think we’ll see her?” She touched her throat nervously, for about the fifteenth time. The silver necklace Darvon had saved up for and given her for their thirtieth anniversary  glinted at her throat; she’d spent half the night before polishing it.

Darvon knew what she meant, but played obtuse. He raised his eyebrows at her. “That’s what we’ve come a hundred miles for, my dear.”

Minella shoved at his shoulder, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. “Not Foicatch’s lady, you lump. Her.”

“I expect the Queen has better things to do.” Darvon caught her hand when she went to smooth her skirts for the twentieth time. “And even if we did, you look lovely.”

That earned him a smile, one that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She left off fussing with her dress and necklace and hair and squeezed his hand in return. “Flatterer. I’d like to see her, even in passing.”

Darvon smiled back. “It would be something to tell the grandchildren, wouldn’t it?”

The carriage rattled up to the gates of the Keep not half an hour later. Darvon had seen the manor of the Viscount of Nem more than once; he’d made the man’s banquet table custom. But he still marveled at the sheer scale of the Keep; the Viscount’s manor house was little larger than the gatehouse of the Keep.

There were people on the Keep grounds, stablehands and gardeners and swineherds and Bloodguards and delivery wagons of grain and vegetables, bustling about with the sort of focused chaos that seemed to be common to any great household. All the people paused to stare keenly at the carriage as they passed, though.

The driver pulled them up at the base of the wide stairs leading up to the massive double doors of the Keep proper. Two Bloodguards were standing at rigid attention before the doors; they saluted with their spears when their brothers and sisters pulled up with the carriage and dismounted.

One of their Bloodguard retinue opened the carriage door, and politely offered Minella a hand to help her down. She took it, a little hesitantly; she was no more used to such things than Darvon was.

“We sent corporal Jena ahead to tell Commander Foicatch that you were arriving.” The Bloodguard squinted up at the gates of the Keep as Darvon stretched and cracked joints stiff from sitting in a carriage so long. “He should be here any…ah.” The last word was spoken as one of the great doors was heaved open a crack and Foicatch bolted down the wide, shallow stairs three at a time, grinning ear to ear.

There were a few minutes of delighted embraces and greetings and Minella critically examining her son to make sure he was eating well.

“You’re looking well.” Darvon examined his son critically. “Fallen’s balls, boy. It’s been what, seven years?”

“Eight.” Minella frowned up at Foicatch. “And nothing but letters telling us about how much danger you’re walking into.”

Foicatch dipped his head slightly, not making eye contact. “Sorry, mum. But…”

“Ahhh, I know.” She sighed, then smiled again. “Bloodguard. But you’re here now, and safe, and you must introduce us to this lady you want to wed.” She eyed the carriage, where several footmen had appeared and were unloading their baggage. “She must be something, for you to have convinced the Queen to let you send all this.” She gave him a look out of the corner of her eyes as they climbed the steps to the Keep doors. “Will I have to start calling you ‘lord’, now?”

Foicatch cleared his throat and stared straight ahead. Darvon narrowed his eyes; Foicatch was a Bloodguard. He could keep things to himself if needed. Still, Darvon was his father. He’d raised the boy, and he could still read his son like a book.

Foicatch was nervous. His boy was usually self-assured to the point of being foolhardy; Darvon could count on one had the number of times he’d seen his lad like this. “No.” Foicatch strode through the great doors and kept going, seeming not to notice the magnificence of the great entry hall. Minella stared, her lips parted. Darvon slowed and felt himself gawping like…well, like a carpenter standing in the Keep of the Kings and Queens of the Northern Lands.

Foicatch seemed to realize that he’d lost them, and slowed to a stop, waiting.

“Lady.” Minella’s voice was soft as she stared up at the starred, vaulted ceiling far above them.

Foicatch glanced up too, and a little of the nervousness faded. The corner of his lips twitched up, and he moved back to stand next to his parents.

“I remember the first time I walked through those doors I had to scrape my jaw off the floor.” A little half-grin. “I suppose you stop noticing after a while.”

Darvon looked at his son…his tall, broad-shouldered warrior son, his son with his Bloodguard mark just visible above the collar of his tunic, his son who spoke with Queens…and felt a fierce surge of pride that nearly choked him.

“Come on.” Alongside the gleaming, polished Bloodguards standing vigilant on either side of the great doors bearing the crest of the Stellas family…Darvon supposed they must lead to the throne room…he felt very much like the common-born carpenter he was. Foicatch had had many years to become accustomed to such grand surroundings, but Darvon could feel the full weight of a thousand years of Stellas royalty pressing in around him. “It’s about time that we met your mystery woman. We rode all this way for it, after all.”

“Yes.” The nervousness was back; Foicatch’s left hand twitched, as if reaching for a sword hilt on his hip that wasn’t there. “She said she’d be up in the library. Come on.”

He led the way into the sprawling labyrinth of hallways and stairways that was the Keep, navigating with the ease of someone who’d walked these halls a thousand times. Minella was fidgeting with her necklace and smoothing her skirts again by the time Foicatch led them up to a heavy oak door that was propped open, showing a room fully as large as the entry hall.

The room was lined with row after row of shelves, every one of them loaded down with scrolls and books. Darvon had never seen so many books together in one place before; he attempted to calculate the worth of the contents of this room, which made his head spin. He found himself nervously smoothing his clothes.

Foicatch led them past the shelves. At nearly the back of the room, there was another door, smaller than the big oak library door. Even as Foicatch raised a hand to knock, the door opened a crack and a woman slipped out.

She was stunningly lovely; golden hair, wide green eyes, and a heart shaped face with the sweetest little curve of a smile Darvon had ever seen on a woman. She was of high birth; no one else would be wearing a gown like that. Pale gold silk, nearly the same color as her hair, with trim of pale blue.

Her eyes lit up when she saw Foicatch, who immediately bowed. “My lady Sina.”

Darvon’s heart stuttered and skipped a beat. The Queen’s sister? The former Queen? A Seer, of the line of the First King? Ah, son, you didn’t…

He nearly fell into a bow, gasping out “M’lady” in a choked sort of voice.

“Hello, Foicatch.” The lady Sina looked past the Bloodguard, to Minella and Darvon. “These are your parents, then?” She smiled at them, sweet and lovely, and gestured for them to rise. “Your son is a fine man. He served me well when I held the throne, and continues to serve my sister faithfully.” She shot Foicatch a sly side glance at that. Foicatch stifled a cough.

“You flatter an old man, m’lady.” Darvon just managed this; Minella seemed to have completely lost the power of speech.

“I only speak the truth. Anyway, I should be off; you’ve traveled a long ways, and I’m taking your time. I’m sure she’s eager to meet you.” The lady Sina smiled one last time and swept off.

Darvon sagged. Minella put a hand to her chest, and finally remembered how to speak. “Lord of the pits, boy! I thought for a second…” She started chuckling to herself. “I saw a Queen after all!”

“Ah.” Foicatch seemed about to say something. His left hand twitched again, seeking a sword hilt that wasn’t there, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Nervous, Darvon thought again. Who is this woman? “Well, I suppose…”

“Foicatch.” This voice was from the other side of the door, and then quite suddenly the door was pulled open. Another woman was standing in the doorway, eyeing Foicatch with a sort of exasperated amusement. “Are you fidgeting? Bring them in and let them sit down, already; I’ve been waiting to meet them for ages.”

She was tall, with dark hair caught back at the nape of her neck, high cheekbones, and eyes of a clear, cool icy blue.

Darvon forgot how to breathe. His pulse pounded harsh in his ears as he noticed other things, like how the muscles of her forearms rippled when she moved, how she was built strong in the shoulders like a woman who spent hours with a sword in her hands, how her hands were scarred in the way of any dedicated warrior, and…and…

…Lord of dust and bones…

And the great ruby signet ring on the middle finger of her right hand, carved with the eight-pointed crest of the Stellas line.

He dropped to his knees almost without thinking about it. “Your majesty.” He gasped. “Your majesty.”

“Ah.” Foicatch shifted his weight again. “Yes. Mother. Father. Allow me to introduce Systlin Stellas, Queen of the Northern Lands, Lady of the Eastern Reaches, Blood of the first king. Mitraka of the southern deserts, sword-sister and lover of the Queen of the Sands, Mistress of Knives, and, well, the woman I brought you here to meet.”

Systlin…the Queen…shot him a look.

“Sorry. Queen of the Eastern Reaches, until such time as she re-conquers the rest of the north, assuming we don’t all get killed doing it.”

The Queen looked mollified. She looked down at them…Lord of the pits, the Queen was standing in front of him, sharing familiar looks with his son.

Foicatch, what in the pits have you done? And how have you done it?

“Please.” Her voice was…downright gentle. He’d heard the stories, and had in his imagination given her a loud, harsh voice, something suitable for yelling over battlefields. In real life, she spoke in a pleasant low alto. “I don’t say this to many people, but you needn’t bow like that.”

[anxious-allie-ren]

The Rumors.

Coming at you with the next chapter! This one was fun! I really laid some good ground work here and planted some hints for future important plot points. So, see if you can find them! I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next banquet was once again held at the King and Queen's summer estate. But rather than showing up in the evening for a night of dancing and conversation, guests came instead to share a meal and a few waltzes.

All that were in attendance had just enjoyed a delicious three-course meal. A light vegetable soup served with a side of bread, followed by roasted pheasant with glazed potato, and finished off with a delicious iced pudding. You had starved yourself all day for the meal, expecting nothing but a grand spread. It's safe to say you were not disappointed. Your father on the other hand, he was a different story. He had nothing nice to say about the meal, stating that his pheasant was dry and the pudding was too sweet. You were able to conjure up an excuse to get away from him, walking away from your table and into the crowd. You needed to breathe.

You're watching the couples dance around the floor as you feel someone come up to your side.

"Did you enjoy your meal, my lady?"

You turn to see Poe standing next to you, looking as dashing as ever. He's dressed in his usual tuxedo, curly brown hair tamed in a perfect mop on his head. You smile up at him and nod.

"Yes I did. How about you, Lord Poe?"

"Just Poe, remember? I did enjoy it, but I have to say, I wish the pudding had been sweeter."

His response makes you giggle, looking down at your hands. He was so drastically different from your father. Of course they would even differ on something as simple as the dessert.

"Of course, Poe."

Poe turns to look at you. He holds out his hand for you just as the previous dance ends.

"Would you like to dance with me, miss Y/N?"

You nod quickly and place your gloved hand in his, allowing him to lead you out onto the dance floor.

You are swept up in him as you waltz about the room. You could feel that spark from your stroll in the park. Only now, it was beginning to burn brighter, being fanned by the closeness of your bodies. The way he was looking down at you had your cheeks burning red. Poe smiled and held your hand just a bit tighter.

"I very much enjoy the time we've spent together, miss Y/N."

His words take you by surprise. Of course you enjoyed his company. But you were not expecting the feeling to be mutual. You look up in his eyes, a bright smile spread across your face.

"I have as well, Poe. But please just call me Y/N."

_______________________________________________

Those in the crowd watch the two of you as you dance. The spark could be felt by everyone in attendance. It seemed that the young woman who gained praise from the King had found her love match. Any one with eyes could clearly see the connection between the two of you.

That of course meant that both your father and Lord Hux could see this as well. The men were standing off to the side watching.

"I knew she would fall for a younger man. We should have just arranged the marriage and been done with it. You promised me this would be no problem."

"Lord Hux, I can assure you this will simply be a little obstacle in our plans. MY daughter will be your bride by the end of the season."

Lord Hux looks at your father, his brows furrowed in anger. He slicks back his ginger hair with his hand and sighs.

"You're right, your grace. Because I'll be taking matters into my own hands."

With that, Lord Hux makes his way through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

_____________________________________________________

You are broken from your moment with Poe as Lord Hux comes up to the both of you, your father following closely behind.

Poe turns to face him, dropping your hands from him.

"Good evening, Lord Hux. How can I help you?"

Lord Hux scowls at Poe and turns his direction to you.

"I've come to ask my lady to dance with me, if that's alright with you."

You couldn't believe the brazen actions of Lord Hux. It is more shocking that your father was going along with this. He had been so demanding that you behave, but certainly this little stunt would not look good to the ton.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted to do was dance with him. He had made his intentions very clear in your last interaction. You didn't want to do anything more to give him the wrong idea. Lord Hux stood no chance with you. Poe looked down at you, sensing your hesitancy. He was about to answer when your father stepped in.

"Of course, Lord Hux. Y/N would love to dance with you! It would be her honor."

Your father punctuates those last words with a hard look at you. It was clear you had no choice in the matter. It was either behave now and come out of this with your dignity intact, or walk away and lose the good graces of the King and the ton.

You stay silent as you take Lord Hux's hand and begin to dance with him. Your face is as still as the statues that decorate the elaborate ballroom. You wanted to make it clear to all that may be watching, along with your dance partner, that you were not enjoying this.

Lord Hux drones on about his vast estates, wealth, etc. but you can't bring it in you to listen. None of this information mattered to you. As he continues going on about some group of men he's assembling, you catch the eyes of the raven haired man from across the room.

He's standing amongst the crowd, dressed in a fine tuxedo. You couldn't even take in his attire. All you could focus on was his gaze, which was fixed right on you. The both of you couldn't keep your eyes off each other. Even as Lord Hux twirled you around the floor, your eyes still managed to find him. As the song ended, you nodded to Lord Hux and turned towards the direction of the man, but found that he was gone.

You made your way back into the crowd. You were hoping to find Poe or even the mystery man. You stopped at the refreshments table to get a glass of champagne. As you turned, you spotted the man again. He was talking with a few other men, but the second he felt your stare he looked up at you and met your eyes. You were tempted to make your way over towards him but stopped as two other debutantes joined you at the table. Both girls were beautiful. The one closest to the table had short auburn hair with deep brown eyes. She was wearing an emerald green dress accented by silver beads. The woman next to her had hair that was a bit longer than the other's, but it was a lovely chocolate color. Her eyes were blue, just like the dress she had on.

"Lizzie, honestly. No King is going to be joining the ton this year." The woman in the blue dress states as she grabs a glass of champagne for herself.

"No I'm serious, he's here! Look, he's right there!" Who you now know as Lizzie says and points wildly across the room. You follow her finger and find she is spotted at the mysterious man you've been exchanging glances with. You had to be mistaken. Maybe she was pointing at one of the other men in the group.

You look back to the pair and step closer to them.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude on your conversation. But I couldn't help but overhear you say a King is in attendance?"

The women both turn their attention to you and prepare to make an introduction. The woman in the emerald dress speaks up first.

"Yeah, sorry! My name is Elizabeth, but you can just call me Lizzie. This is Julia."

"Lizzie here thinks that a King from another country has joined the ton this season. I think she's delusional."

You laugh at Julia's comment and introduce yourself.

"Julia, I'm not kidding! My mother told me all about it after the last ball. He was seen talking to

Charlotte. I guess the interaction didn't go so well."

You decide to join in, hoping to get more information.

"Which one did you say is the King?"

Lizzie once again points in the direction of the raven haired man, who is still in conversation.

"That man there, the dark haired one. My mother says he's king of Chandrila. A really broody one."

Julia pipes in, staring at the man along with you both.

"Well, he is handsome. Tall and broad. How do you know he's broody, Lizzie?"

"Oh, he's drop dead gorgeous for sure! But my mother knows some of the lads that served in his army. Said he was brutal."

You let those words sink in for a second before you speak up.

"Well shouldn't you be brutal in battle? I mean especially if you're commanding an army."

"Oh yeah of course. But this wasn't just on the battle grounds. This was to his servants and townspeople as well. Said he would have a big outburst and break things, scream at people, all of that. Seems like a case of another horrid man blessed with good looks. Feel real bad for the one who ends up with him."

You and Julia nod along to her remarks. The two women go on gossiping about others in the ton. You pretend to follow along. But you continue to go over Lizzie's words in your head. Has a king from some other country really come and joined your ton? If so, what was the reasoning? Was he really some dangerous man? It sounded as though he was. It seemed as though you had caught his attention as well.

_____________________________________________

Kylo's POV

Arriving late was not something Kylo was fond of. He hated doing so. But being so far from home meant letters and packages took a bit longer to arrive to him. This resulted in his duties not getting done in the timely manner he was used to. All of this made him late to the banquet. He knew this would come to bite him in the ass.

Kylo had full intentions of going, introducing himself to you, and asking you to dance tonight. But with how late he arrived he wasn't even sure a dance would still be open for him. Or if you'd even still be here.

Kylo scanned the crowd, hoping to spot you amongst all the women in frivolous dresses. With no luck, he turned his attention to the dance floor. There, he spotted you with the ginger haired man from the ball. It was easy to see your distaste for him. It was written all over his face. It took everything in him to stay in place and not remove you from the man's arms. No true gentleman should make a lady that uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to move on and find a drink, you looked up. Kylo felt as if his heart had leapt into his throat and then dropped to his toes. Your gaze was enough to hold him in place. Each spin, twirl, or dip he stayed right there to meet your eyes again. Each time he got that same feeling. He couldn't put a name to it, but he knew for certain he'd never felt anything like it before. He needed to get out of there. The feeling was beginning to get overwhelming. Kylo quickly made his way towards the drink table, grabbing a glass and walking off to a quieter part of the room.

Though of course it didn't stay that way for long. Just as he was catching his breath, two gentlemen came up to him and began conversation. He didn't want to seem rude, but fuck could a man get a moment of peace?

He listens to the men talk about their respective territories and such, including his input every now and then. Suddenly, he felt as though someone was watching him. He looked up to find you staring at him from the refreshments table he had just been at. It felt as though he was just missing you. You turned your attention to the two women who had joined you. Kylo looked down at his glass, half listening to the men in front of him. He was determined to meet you by the end of the night.

_____________________________________________

Many had left already. A few couples stood around chatting while their chaperones watched. Kylo continued to scan the room, hoping he hadn't missed you.

He walks out into the main hall near the doors to the estate. There, he spots you standing off to the side while an older man, whom he assumes is your father, talks with the ginger haired man he'd seen you dancing with earlier. He stands and admires you for a moment. You quietly gaze at the chandeliers and art work that graces the walls, content with just being there.

Kylo walks up to you silently hoping not to scare you from your trance. He comes to stand a few feet from you. Now that he is up close, he can really take in your beauty.

He had very limited experience with women, but he understood beauty. He thinks back to the deer in the forest from when he was a child. It was so naturally beautiful standing in the tall grass. It's antler's seemingly reaching the sky, showing off the deer's strength. He remembers how beautiful he found the animal, how intrigued he was by it. Even up until the end, he wanted to protect it. As he looked upon you, he was reminded of that deer. Beautiful, strong, and something he wanted to protect.

You finally felt his gaze and turned to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise. Kylo thought for certain he saw fear flash before your eyes before you quickly hid it behind a polite smile. He quickly snaps out of his thoughts. Kylo clears his throat and tries to provide a smile back.

"Hello miss, I wanted to finally introduce myself. I am Kylo Ren, King of Chandrila."

You stand there staring at him for a moment. He's scared he's upset you in some way. Or even scared you off with his title.

"Hello, your majesty. It is an honor to meet you. I am Miss Y/F/N, the daughter to the Duke of Selonia."

Kylo can't help the small smile that begins to form as he hears your name leave your lips. He knows instantly that it will be a name that plays on loop in his mind for days to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There we have it! They've finally met. About damn time am I right? Any guesses on what's coming next?

Also wanted to add that I will be going on vacation for two week starting Saturday. So I will do my best to update in-between then. But I can't guarantee anything.

Love,

Allie

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏 (𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)× 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4K

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨. 𝐇𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 (𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞), 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢- 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧- 𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐍' 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬/ 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲- 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @little-precious-baby @yunhoiseyecandy @yunhofingers @brie02 @deja-vux @rvse-miingi @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez

◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈

Waving enthusiastically at the crowd cheering loudly at the end of their performance, Mingi's eyes were scanning each and every one of the sections in the auditorium. To anyone it would seem as though he was making sure to shine his beautiful and radiant smile to all the adoring fans that came to watch and support him and his members, and yes that was partly why. But it wasn't just that. He had hope as he scanned every face in there. Hope of once again seeing her again. He could hear his own heartbeat pump against his ears, the sound drowning out all the chanting coming from the thousands of fans gathered in there.

Sensing what was going on, one of his members couldn't help but let out a sigh. Leaning in close enough so he could hear him, he whispered in his ear.

"She's not here Mingi."

He expected such words from his best friend, who although with good intentions, seemed to try to ground him back down to earth and inadvertently crush his hopes. But he never took it personally. He knew Yunho was only trying to look out for him and spare him more heartache. Nudging him slightly, the equally tall male swung an arm around Mingi's broad shoulders, plastering on a smile out to the crowd once more as he led them backstage as slowly the members started to walk off the stage as scheduled. Accepting that the night was over, Mingi pulled his face away from the crowd and began walking away. He would have ultimately called it another uneventful concert that ended the same way and just go back to change into his normal clothes and then join the rest of the group back at the hotel to lounge and rest.

But he felt a something strange, pulling and beckoning him to look back at the scatter of people behind him once more. Slowly, he tried his head, unsure of where to look exactly, eyes wandering around aimlessly. Until they spotted what he believed to be a familiar red scarf wrapped around a person's neck, effectively covering up the bottom half of their face while their head had a matching beret that covered their forehead entirely. Although he couldn't see much other than their body frame, he felt his heart swell up, legs unable to move as he stared at the figure. Yunho stopped when he felt Mingi no longer walking behind him. Walking back to him, he put on a smile so as to not act suspicious and began pulling him away.

"Mingi..we have to go."

But Mingi stayed grounded, still scanning the figure he had locked his eyes on. The person began walking away, almost as if they didn't even acknowledge him.

"Wait hold on-"

Just as he was about to run off the stage and follow them, Yunho harshly tugged on his arm and fiercely guided him backstage, waving out towards the people still watching them so as to not arouse suspicion or have them think something was wrong.

"Mingi, it's not her. You always swear it is but it's not."

Yunho didn't mean to sound so aggressive towards his long life friend, but he cared about him too much and didn't want him getting false illusions that would only end up in him getting more hurt than what he already was.

"I know but it's different! Yunho she was wearing the scarf I gave her. I know it was it!" He insisted, anxiously looking towards the door, debating whether or not he could make a dash and catch up to the individual.

Shaking his head, Yunho placed his hands on top of his friend's shoulders.

"Mingi.....there's a million red scarfs out there. And you were too far away. Honestly I think....."

He hesitated before speaking his next words, knowing how sensitive Mingi got with the topic.

"Forget about her."

As if on instinct, Mingi shook his head.

"No! I can't. I promised I'd wait for her and I'm not breaking my word. I'll stay faithful to it until she comes back."

"But what if she doesn't?! It's been over two years Mingi! Face the facts. She's not coming back. Y/N never loved-"

"Don't say that! She did- she does love me! I know she does!"

Yunho took a step back. Seeing Mingi become so agitated and frustrated like that truly terrified him. It was always dangerous to have him get mad or overly worked up. Sensing that he probably startled his friend a little too much, Mingi ran a hand over his dyed blonde hair, a despondent sigh coming out his mouth.

"Hey Yunho I'm sorry..... I think.... I need some air."

After changing into his normal clothes, Mingi didn't get in the van like most of the other guys who just wanted to go relax back at the hotel, nor did he follow Wooyoung or Hongjoong to go check out some of the nearby stores. He simply walked in the opposite direction, mindlessly strolling the streets of the unfamiliar city he was currently in. The slight rumbling of the skies and the subtle scent of dew signaled that it was more than likely going to start pouring rain soon. Even though he was wearing one of his long trenchcoat, the slight breeze that blew across sent tiny chills down his spine, nearly making his teeth chatter.

As if it were a beacon, Mingi stumbled across a small and cozy looking coffee shop. Making sure it was still open, he cheerfully greeted the sweet looking old woman behind the counter, who seemed to brighten up at seeing such a handsome young lad at such an hour. Very calmly and politely, he ordered just a simple caramel cappuccino, which the owner was delighted to whip up for him. Just as he took out his wallet to pay, he had a weird inkling feeling for some reason.

"Uh..... do you perhaps sell hot cocoa?" He inquired nervously.

After getting confirmation that they indeed made hot chocolate, Mingi asked if there was any possible way they could add peppermint to it. He could already feel the judgmental stare about to be given to him as most baristas did with such an unpopular request. Although she seemed surprised by the special addition of peppermint, she didn't hesitate to assure him she'd definitely make it as he liked. Mingi felt so grateful to the kind lady, making sure to leave her a generous tip before taking both of his drinks and going back outside.

Spotting a nearby gazebo, Mingi went over and sat down on one of the benches that were placed underneath the roof of it. Setting the hot mint chocolate down next to him, he sipped his cappuccino slowly, being careful not to burn his tongue on the scorching hot liquid. It had the perfect amount of foam in it, with not too much caramel added in it so the strong espresso could still be made out. Wiping off some of the froth that accidentally got on the tip of his nose, he peered down at the untouched drink next to him. Chuckling dryly to himself, he picked up the cup and scanned it with deep curiosity.

"You always were so different and unique." He mused to himself.

Putting it back down, he began to think it was absolutely silly to have bought it just because of some momentary whim he felt back in the coffee shop.

Or was it nostalgia?

Mingi began to believe it was the latter, especially considering what month it was. After all, it was during this exact same time 2 years ago, on a cold and gloomy November where everything started...

Or perhaps ended?

   ◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈

Exhausted panting came from all 8 of the sweaty bodies of the males in the room, about half of them were already reaching for their water bottles to gulp down the contents before proceeding to try catching their breath once more. The strict yet kind eyes watching them announced they would be taking a break before saying they'd be rehearsing for another hour or two. Simultaneous groans and protests were elicited by the members, who were already tired from thinking about burning a few more calories with their intense dance sessions.

"Looks like I'm missing the new episode of aot." San dramatically layed on the floor, arms sprawled out.

"I'm calling first dibs on the shower when we get back." Seonghwa declared, not afraid of using his status as the oldest member if it meant getting himself cleaned.

"Aww Hyung! You take showers that are way too long! You'll finish all the hot water like last time." Woow already began nagging, which in turn started another argument between his both of them, with San and Yunho joining in to offer backup if necessary.

Ignoring their pointless bantering, Mingi took the time to call up his girlfriend to let her know. It took quite some time for her to pick up his call, it had actually become a rather recent and constant habit of hers, contrary to before when she'd immediately answer on the second ring.

"What?" Her voice sounded somewhat annoyed and tired, which Mingi guessed had something to do with her work.

"Hey baby, looks like I'm going to be staying late at the company for practice. I'm sorry, I really wanted to spend time with you, but I'm not sure it's possible." He could feel his heart pounding as he began imagining her disappointed and disheartened look.

As expected, he heard her sigh through the other end, a brief pause where he only heard her breathing before she finally spoke up.

"That's fine. I'm going to be pulling extra hours today anyways so....don't be sorry. Maybe it works out in the end."

Mingi noticed how dry and monotone she sounded, as if it didn't really bother her that this would yet be another week where they hardly spoke and spent time together for more than 10 minutes.

"Oh ok....take care then, and remember to eat a snack in between hours ok? I don't want you starving yourself ok baby?"

The girl on the other end of the line didn't need to see him to know he was more than likely pouting at her as usual, always fussing to her about her health.

"Ok. Take care Mingi."

"Y/N!.............."

He bit his lip before saying the next words.

"I- I love you." Although he forced a smile on his face, his voice trembled with fear at saying that.

"I....I know. I gotta go."

Once more, she hung up without repeating those same words back to him. Mingi didn't understand why his girlfriend of forever seemed to be acting strange. Lately she hardly had anything to say, she looked less and less animated each time they video chatted, the dark circles under her eyes were becoming more prominent and judging by the way her cheeks looked a little sunken and clothes looked baggy on her, he fussed she was not eating properly.

But the thing that scared Mingi the most was seeing her soulless eyes. Those eyes that once held the entire stars in them, were now empty and completely void of any emotion. She never initiated any form of physical contact with him, it was always him pulling her into an embrace or placing a kiss on her head, nose or lips, and even when she reciprocated them, they were always cold and almost robotic.

It was starting to terrify him.

"Mingi!"

He nearly dropped his phone when the tiny leader called out to him.

"Break time is over. We gotta start again."

Putting his phone back in his bag he promised himself that even if he left at early dawn, he would go over and see his lover. He just had to.

◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈

Letting out a long and exasperated sigh, Y/N kicked off her heels and left them on the front of the door, her toes aching after all the grueling and arduous hours of both sitting and running up and down floors. Her once neat bun now had various hairs poking out from several places and was now drooping lower than in the morning. She slumped her tired body over to her bedroom, ready to just indulge in a warm shower and then head to bed. But the last thing she expected to see when she turned on the light, was none other than her boyfriend.

"Hey." He waved his hand at her, a soft smile on his lips.

She was momentarily confused with his presence.

"I thought you had practice." She raised an eyebrow, her tone sounding more accusatory than with delight.

"I did...but then I came over here." He explained.

"Why?"

Mingi blinked at her question, stunned that she would even ask why. Getting up from the bed, he slowly walked over to her cautiously. Once he was right in front of her, he reached a hand out to caress her cheek.

"Why? I naturally wanted to see you.....hear you...touch you."

Arms wrapping around her waist, he lowered his face until he pressed a soft kiss to her mildly chapped lips. Although he felt her give in after a while, he could feel that her heart was not in it. Every brush of her lips felt extremely languid and emotionless, even after he had turned a little more desperate and began to trail messy kisses across her jaw, her hands did not move away from her sides, her head only tilting to allow him more access to her skin. Before he could move to pull off her shirt, she stopped him by gripping his wrists.

"If you don't mind I'd like to clean myself off first."

Not even giving him a chance to say anything, she pushed past him and made a beeline to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned her back on it, staring into the floor for a few minutes in a somewhat catatonic state. Taking a deep breath, she slowly removed each one of the articles of clothing on her body, all of them feeling like a heavy weight on her. Ripping the scrunchie off her hair, she tossed it onto the floor so it could join the pile that had already been made in a corner. Sliding the glass door open, she got inside the shower and quickly turned on the water, first the splashes coming out at an almost freezing temperature, which although her body shivered at, she did not shrink away from. Then the water finally adjusted to a more warm temperature, not too hot but warm enough to soothe her sore muscles.

Closing her eyes, she decided to simply bask in the warmth of the water coating her body, shutting off her mind from all the spiraling thoughts that had been clouding her mind for the past weeks, refusing to go away and seemingly taunting her at every hour when she least expected it. She hurt, she was in pain yet there were no physical evidence of it. She could barely eat more than 2 bites of any meal she intook because it suddenly felt too full. At nights, her eyes drooped heavy with sleep, yet her restless mind wouldn't allow her even one full hour of sweet slumber though that's all she wanted.....

She just wanted to fall asleep and hopefully never wake up so as to not feel the pain and emptiness she felt.

So lost was she in the moment that she failed to hear or notice the one individual coming in to join her until she felt familiar hands come to wrap themselves around her waist.

"It's all right love. It's just me." Mingi softly whispered when she gasped lightly at the sudden touch.

Letting her relax under his touch before doing anything else, Mingi's fingers slowly began drawing circles around her hips as he kept his face buried in her neck. Inhaling deeply, he could make out her unique scent that his senses had committed to memory, but could also faintly discern a somewhat different odor that he had never before detected on her before. It was slightly off-putting to him, but he opted for brushing it off. After all, she worked with several people at her job.

Slowly, he began peppering kisses along her shoulder, which seemed to trigger deep and blissful sighs to exude from her nose. His hands moved up to cup around her breasts, kneading at her soft skin while the thumbs grazed over her sensitive nubs in a careful motion. Soft moans poured out from her mouth. Tilting her head back, she reached a hand up to bring her lover's face to hers so she could kiss him. Her moans were now being eaten up by his mouth and tongue as his fingers stroked between her legs, probing at her folds and rubbing at her clit. Pulling apart to catch her breath, Y/N looked up at Mingi with longing and desperation.

"Please....more." She begged at him.

Prying her folds open, he carefully inserted two of his slender and long fingers inside her, her walls practically sucking him in. She felt so tight around him, her walls hugging and clenching all around his fingers. Y/N threw her head back against his shoulder as she began grinding against his hand, savoring as she was finally feeling something, anything in a long time. Her hand had moved to pet at his head, her fingers brushing away his now damp hair in gentle caresses. Wanting to see, feel him more, she removed his hand away from her mound and firmly pressed him towards one of the walls, where she then began to kiss him hungrily and in subtle anguish.

Mingi just allowed her to take control for that moment, his heart lightening up at finally getting some reaction from her. He let her take a hold of his erect cock and pump him slowly as her mouth sucked on several patches of skin on his neck to leave tiny blotches across it. He missed this, he missed being intimate with her and missed having her touch him, not to fulfill any sexual yearning, but to be close to her. He always saw these tender and passionate moments as a display of their love and bond.

Soon the water had been turned off and both of their dripping bodies were fumbling out and landing on top of the bed. Mingi hissed softly as he watched his beautiful girlfriend sink down and his length.

"Fuck. It's been too long."

Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around her, wanting to be as close as possible as he began to roll his hips up. Wanting to take his time, Mingi took one of her supple breasts and stuffed it in his mouth, giving it various light suckles and then adding a few kisses onto it. Y/N began panting and moaning uncontrollably, so many emotions rushing through her all at once. It seemed as if all that time of not feeling anything had left her somewhat numb to emotions that now she was beginning to feel overwhelmed by all the ones that were hitting her now:

Love, lust, passion, anger, fury, agony, guilt, one by one they all crashed into her head and heart. It was becoming too much for her and it began to scare her somewhat. But she didn't want them to stop, she wanted to cling onto those emotions just a little longer, no matter what or how. She hadn't even realized her hands had placed themselves on Mingi's broad shoulders, holding her steady as she began to bounce herself on top of him, slow tears trickling down her cheeks as muffled cries of desperation were being choked back and bitten back by her lips. Her fear of not feeling anymore soon turned to rage, and it was manifesting itself as she fucked herself on her boyfriend, who by now had noticed the change in her mood.

Mingi tried to grip her hips down, but she didn't seem to care and tried to push his hands away. His calling out to her fell upon deaf ears as she swatted his hands, tat were trying to steady her, away. Finally, he firmly held her wrists and kept her from moving as he forced her to look at him.

"Y/N!" He sharply exclaimed, breaking her out of her trance.

Feeling her body starting to shake, Y/N looked away in shame, her eyes threatening to spill out more tears.

"Baby, look at me, what's wrong?" Mingi gently cupped her chin.

Not meaning to be so mean, but Y/N brushed his hand away and began to climb off him.

"I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry."

Getting up, she ransacked her drawer and pulled out some clothes and dressed herself in an inhumane speed.

"Honey, we can talk about it-" Mingi tried to touch her once more but she pulled away once more.

"I don't want to talk about it! Please! I just want to go to bed."

Marching over to the closet, she grabbed some spare pillows and a blanket.

"I'm sleeping on the couch." She firmly stated, not about to let herself be dissuaded from her resolution.

"Y/N, please don't do this. Stop shutting me out."

With one final attempt, Mingi grabbed her shoulder and turned her arousal to face him, eyes intently searching and scanning every inch of her face for a clue as to what was bothering her.

"Talk to me love, you know you can."

Y/N opened her mouth, about to spill what was on her heart, but ultimately decided against it.

"I can't.....I'm sorry. Just please....let me be for now."

Mingi's hands fell to his sides in defeat as he watched the most important person in his life leave him there, alone. He hated this, hated having her become so distant from him. He could feel it in his heart that sooner or later she was going to snap and hurt his heart, probably more than what he was imagining.

But he was ready for that moment.

◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈

Having gotten absolutely no sleep that night, Y/N ended up getting up just hours before the sun was supposed to rise. Making sure to make as little noise as possible, she made sure to bundle up since it was chilly outside. She looked over at the peaceful and sleeping figure of her boyfriend, who was softly letting out subtle snores as his hands clutched around a pillow, holding onto it as if his life depended on it. He could never fully call asleep unless he was holding something, that something always being her. She could make out a faint wet patch on his pillow where his cheek rested, tell tale sign that he had been crying the night before, just as she had done.

With a kiss to his forehead, she left the house and headed out, her destination still unclear. She just walked wherever her legs led her to, whether conscious or unconsciously. There was hardly a soul around to keep her company on that lonely and cold morning walk in the autumn breeze. Her teeth were chattering inside her mouth whenever a rather blunt force of air swooped past her, making her lick her lips as she felt them drying up even more.

Without realizing it she had come across a small and serene park, a trail specifically used for early joggers right in front of her. Following the trail, she kept her head down as she slowly strolled through the immense trees surrounding her. The golden and garnet hued leaves were scattered about all around the semi dead grass, some of it blowing through the air. She paid no attention to them though, she paid no attention at all to her surroundings. She couldn't feel anything anyways, even the cold air was becoming numb to her at this point.

"Mind if I join you?"

She halted in her steps when a low voice spoke from behind her. She didn't need to see him to know who he was.

"How'd you know I was here?" She questioned him without turning around still.

"Lucky guess."

Moving in front of her, Mingi's tall figure loomed over hers, studying her mood which right now seemed apathetic and melancholic. Standing there all quiet for a brief moment, Mingi was the one who decided to break the ice.

"I love you, you know that right?"

Without even batting an eye, Y/N slowly nodded. Expecting that reaction, Mingi chuckled dryly.

"You know it's been a while since I've heard you respond at all to me saying that...."

Once more, she had no expression on her face, hardly even blinking as she stared right through him, almost as if he wasn't there. But she was listening to him, and he knew it too. Brushing some hair behind her ear, Mingi let out a deep sigh.

"Y/N...... I know you're not ok. I don't know how or what it is you're feeling, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. Maybe you should go see a therapist, a doctor, I don't know. We'll find out what's wrong so you-"

"Mingi I don't know what I feel for you anymore."

He felt as if a knife had been plunged at his chest. Although he expected her to say something that would hurt him, he still wasn't fully ready to hear those words.

"Just 2 months ago you said and thought differently. Back then you always told me you loved me and cherished me." He kindly reminded her.

"Maybe feelings change." She bluntly stated.

"Yes they do which is why I don't believe you when you say you don't feel anything for me anymore. I know my Y/N, I know the girl I fell in love with and I know that these past weeks, seeing how you're acting.......that's not you."

She didn't move away when he cupped her cheeks.

"I know you still love me, I can see it in your eyes. Your love is just restrained right now. Just give it time. Trust me."

Choking back tears, Y/N finally made eye contact with him.

"Just end it Mingi. I don't have the heart to do it, so please just end things with me. Don't hold onto me anymore. Move on with your life and find someone who can love you like you deserve to be loved."

Mingi immediately shook his head, that being an option he was not accepting.

"Baby, do you need some time on your own? Some time alone? I can give you that. Maybe that way it'll be good for you to use that time to get help and-"

"Mingi I cheated on you." She confessed.

His body stood frozen in place at her admittance, yet he was not shocked at all. The weird scent he detected on her and the way she sometimes recoiled from his touch as if guilt ate her alive, he always had that thought on the back of his head.

"So you fell in love with someone else?"

Y/N let out a sob.

"No.......absolutely not. It meant nothing and I just did it because I wanted to feel something, anything and he was right there. But that's no excuse and I'm sorry Mingi. I'm sorry I'm not the girlfriend you deserve. You deserve so much better than me. Someone who's not broken, foolish and dead already. So please..."

Her hands came up to hide her face as she began crying like she hadn't done in a long time.

"Just forget about me....."

Even if she didn't want it, Mingi embraced her, holding her tightly as she tearfully spilled her heart and emotions out. His heart ached for her. She was suffering, emotionally and mentally she was in pain and she didn't even want to admit it. He couldn't force her to get help, but he couldn't just leave her like that. It would tear him apart if he did. Stroking her hair, he waited until her sobbing and hyperventilating had calmed down before saying anything.

"Y/N.....you need some time alone. We....need some time alone. And I'm willing to give you as much time as you need to heal. But you have to promise me that you'll get help. It's not fair for you to keep living this way. You deserve to be happy."

Pulling back, he used his thumbs to brush away some of the tears off her cheeks.

"But this doesn't mean I'm ending things nor forgetting about you. This is only a break until you're all better and ready to come back to me."

Y/N stared at him in disbelief.

"Song Mingi, you're an even bigger idiot than I thought you were."

He giggled softly at that.

"I'm an idiot who loves you and will always love you. And this idiot knows you still love me, even if your brain refuses to let you believe it now."

Pressing his forehead against hers, he shut his eyes to keep himself from crying.

"I'll be waiting for you until you come back to me....."

Taking off the red scarf that was hanging on his neck, he wrapped it around her neck and softly padded it on.

I know you'll be back."

◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈

He left her with a final kiss on her lips and watched her walk away, disappearing from his life for about 2 years. Rain had begun to fall then just as it was falling in that moment. Picking up the untouched peppermint hot chocolate and discarding his cappuccino on a nearby trash bin, Mingi stepped out of the gazebo and began walking back to the hotel, not caring about getting soaked in the pouring rain. Perhaps it could help to mask the tears that were beginning to spill out from his eyes. He had never felt his longing for the person he still regarded as his soulmate so dearly as he felt right then and there. He felt as if his oxygen was being caught off, his hope was beginning to dwindle, all the words his friends would often say to him were revolving around his head.

Were they right? Should he stop waiting for her? Was he wrong? Should he just move on?

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard someone open an umbrella behind him, the person hovering it over him so the rain wouldn't hit him anymore. He felt his heart beating harshly against his chest, some overpowering sensation telling him to turn around, which he slowly began to do. The first thing his eyes caught was the familiar red scarf tied to the person's neck. He recognized it immediately. And when he looked up at the face that was looking back at him, he no longer had any doubts left.

"Y/N...." He whispered out.

Through tears in her eyes, she smiled at him, not a fake nor cold one, but a genuine and heart warming smile, just like the one she had plastered on her face when they first met each other.

"Hey Mingi. How are you?" She asked.

"I...I'm fine. ....how are you?" They both knew what he was referring to.

"I'm a lot better actually. Taking medication still sucks but I'm a lot better and happier now. My therapist has been working with me all this time so...yeah.." She seemed a little awkward talking about it, but Mingi wasn't going to push her.

"I'm glad, I truly am happy for you."

Looking back at the cup in his hand, he held it out to her.

"It's probably not hot anymore, but it's your favorite."

Y/N was surprised that he even had or remembered what her favorite was. Taking a small sip, she couldn't help the tiny grin spreading on her cheeks.

"It's perfect. I never liked it super hot either way."

They both chuckled at that known fact between them. Soon there was another silence between them, and once again it was Mingi who broke it. Brushing some hair away from her face, he stared into her eyes.

"I love you."

Looking up at him, her eyes no longer void nor cold, but instead full of life and love, Y/N answered back.

"I love you too."

Unable to hold himself back, Mingi held her tightly, overwhelmed with emotions as he finally held the love of his life in his arms once more.

"I knew you'd come back to me...."

◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────⊱◈◈◈

[forabeatofadrum]

Barking Up The Wrong Bakery (2/14)

Notes: By the way, I haven’t finished writing it. I guess I’ll post when I can. And I try to have all chapters under 600 words to once again challenge myself to write shorter stuff.

AO3

–

STRUCTURE

“Welcome to Dalton Doggy dog bakery,” an unenthusiastic voice greets Kurt. He looks around and he finds the source of this display of disinterest. A bored looking teen with an emo fringe is standing behind the counter. He’s wearing a mask with a My Chemical Romance logo on it. “We have the best treats for all your four-legged friends. Woof, woof!”

Before Kurt can say anything, another voice cuts in.

“No Tom, we’ve talked about this-”

“It’s Tim,” the guy says with a monotone in his voice.

“-you need to practice your charisma! It will lead to confidence!” another man appears from the backroom. He’s tall and he has brown wavy hair and dark eyes, but the most noticeable thing is his dazzling, but superficial smile. The shining plastic of his visor makes it even more popping.

Kurt works with influencers. He’s learnt to see through the façade.

The man fully steps into the light and when his eyes fall on Kurt, his entire face changes. His eyes go wide and his smile turns into a shock.

“Uh, hello,” Kurt says. He walks towards the man with his elbow outstretched. “I am-”

“Kurt Hummel,” the man says and he eagerly shakes Kurt’s hand, “LA’s biggest dog party planner.”

“Glad to hear my reputation precedes me.”

“Oh, absolutely!” the man shakes Kurt’s hand so wildly that Kurt’s afraid he’ll break it. Doesn’t this man realise there’s a pandemic? “Cooper Anderson, one of the owners, at your service. And this strapping young lad is Tom-”

“Tim.”

“-who’ll be more than happy to help you, won’t you, Tom?” Cooper says with a pointed tone in his voice. Tim rolls his eyes.

“Sure,” Tim says unconvincedly, and Kurt can feel all the hope go down the drain. The owner’s enthusiasm is admirable, but also a bit too much. It reminds Kurt a lot of all the canned responses he’s had over the years. The employee would rather be anywhere else but here.

Still, you cannot judge a book by its cover. Maybe they’re great at making dog cakes.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Hummel?” Cooper asks and he leads Kurt towards a small sitting area.

Kurt decides to put his doubts aside and he outlines his entire plan for the cake. He tells Cooper that it’s for a very important client who must be kept confidential. Kurt apologises for the last minute order, since this is a seven-tiered cake. The structure of this cake is insane.

Cooper does start to sweat when Kurt shows him the sketches of the cake.

“Well,” Cooper smiles. He tries to look dashing, but he looks like a mess. He pulls at his collar. “I think we might be able to pull it off, Mr. Hummel. I’ll just have to give my employees some extra hours-”

“Fuck that!” Tim yells from the counter.

“Language, Tom!”

“Tim!” Tim shrieks back.

“Hey now,” Cooper stands up and he storms towards Tim, but before he can say anything, another voice cuts in.

“Leave Tim alone, Coop!”

Kurt, Cooper and Tim all turn to the door that leads to the back. Another man is standing in the doorframe and Kurt has to fight the urge to fan himself. This man is insanely handsome, with his slicked back black hair and his gorgeous eyes. He’s wearing a funky bowtie and a mask, both with golden retrievers printed on them.

Kurt’s in love!