#what’s also ridiculous is only one of these is one of the many unread books i own. well

[lesbianboyfriend]

@obeetlebeetle tagged me to post my 9 fav books from last year or 9 books on my tbr for this year! tyy conrad <333 i believe i already posted last years favs so i will do my tbr!!

i have a notoriously long tbr (2795 currently) and a notorious habit of ignoring it based on whatever whim….but these are some books i hope to read!!!

gonna tag my darlings @corpseprince @dreamertrilogys @ibuprofengirl @folkdances @hareofthemoon if you would like!! kisses forever xoxo

[wisteriacount]

Hiei sat on the side of the bed closer to the window, gazing out into the snowy night. Kurama, next to him, reclined with a ridiculously thick book in hand.

When the fire demon had enough of landscape viewing, he turned to the fox. His hands fidgeted with the sheets, clearly showing signs of boredom.

Kurama turned toward Hiei, his emerald eyes almost affectionate. “I feel something flaring up in you.”

"Spar with me," Hiei said. Well, obviously, that was the reason Hiei had come here tonight in the first place. He had to keep that in mind.

"Oh, so that's it! Well, it's too late for that." Kurama yawned and put down his book. He shifted closer, resting his head on one hand. “What if I,” he said, his voice smooth and gentle, “tell you a story instead?”

Hiei frowned but didn’t object outright. “What kind of story?” he asked as he lay down. "I’m not a child, so spare me the bedtime stories."

"Of course you aren’t," Kurama’s sleepy smile grew wider. “It’s a simple short one. About a little fox demon and a little fire demon.”

Hiei raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His silence was permission enough for Kurama to begin.

“Once, many years ago,” Kurama started softly, “there were two young demons—a little fox demon and a little fire demon. Both were clever, strong-willed, and determined in their own ways. But both also had their struggles.”

Hiei shifted slightly, resting his arm beneath his head as he listened. There was a flicker of confusion in his crimson eyes. "Are you talking about us?" he asked bluntly. He didn’t know other fire demons or fox demons. Whatever.

“The little fox demon,” Kurama continued without answering, “was a mischievous creature, always scheming, always searching for treasures to steal or adventures to go on. He was clever, yes, but he was also lonely. He never stayed in one place for long, never trusted anyone enough to let them stay by his side.”

Hiei’s eyes flickered to Kurama, his expression unreadable as ever.

“The little fire demon,” Kurama continued with a faint smile, “was different. He wasn’t searching for treasures or adventures—he was searching for opponents to show his strength to and, deep in his heart, a place to belong. Cast out from his home, he wandered the decaying lands of the Makai, growing stronger but bitter. He trusted no one, only the blade in his hand.”

“I hope he butchered everyone who stood in his way,” Hiei muttered, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He turned his head to face the storyteller fox.

Kurama chuckled. “Perhaps. One day these two demons faced each other by accident. Their paths crossed in a forest, where the fox was planning his next heist and the fire demon was simply passing through.”

Hiei’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And?”

“The fox, curious about this fiery little stranger, decided to mess with him,” Kurama said, his voice taking a playful tone. “He laid a trap—a clever one, designed to catch the fire demon off guard. But the fire demon, sharp as his blade, saw through it. Instead of being caught, he turned the trap against the fox.”

Hiei smirked, triumphant. “Serves him right. Idiot fox.”

Kurama’s smile widened. “Indeed. The fox was furious, of course, but also impressed. He had never met anyone who could outwit him so easily. Then, in the blink of an eye, he freed himself and stood face-to-face with the fire demon. They were both lonely creatures, but in that moment, something passed between them. Maybe an unspoken understanding, or maybe just the wind of the Makai. ‘Join me,’ the little fox demon proposed—something he had never done before. ‘With your strength and my cunning, we could accomplish great things together.’"

“And the fire demon said no,” Hiei interjected, his fingers fidgeting with his shirt.

Kurama raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but you’re getting ahead of the story! The fire demon was suspicious, yes. He didn’t trust the fox, nor did he see the point in joining him. But something about the fox made him interested in the offer. Perhaps it was the fox’s potential to match his powers, or perhaps it was the loneliness they both shared, even if neither of them would admit it,” Kurama said as he closed his eyes.

Silence fell between them for a few seconds.

Hiei’s gaze softened. He turned his face toward the ceiling. One of his fingers tugged on Kurama's sweater sleeve, indicating he should continue the story.

Kurama opened his eyes, accompanied by a yawn, and turned to his side to face Hiei.

“So,” Kurama continued, his voice quieter now, hinting at his tiredness, “the fire demon agreed. ‘Just for a while,’ he said. ‘Until I grow tired of you.’”

“And then?” Hiei asked, his voice low but urging.

“Then,” Kurama said, leaning closer, “the two of them became partners. They challenged each other, learned from each other, committed various crimes together, and, slowly but surely, they found trust in each other. Something neither of them had experienced before.”

Kurama paused, his half-lidded, tired eyes locking with Hiei's vivid ones.

“That’s it? That’s your story?” Hiei asked.

Kurama chuckled. “It’s still being written. The ending hasn’t been decided yet,” he said simply.

Hiei snorted. “Ridiculous. The ending is that the fire demon cuts off the ears and tail of the fox as a trophy, proving that he was stronger.”

“Perhaps,” Kurama said with a sleepy voice. "If that’s what you insist. But even with his triumph, the fire demon would be lonely again.”

Hiei turned back toward the ceiling, his eyes twitching slightly. “As he should.” The words came out in a more vulnerable tone than Hiei had ever intended.

Kurama settled back onto his pillow, pulling the blanket over both himself and Hiei. "Their lives are long, and they have many new adventures and undefeated opponents ahead of them." A small smile played on his lips. “Sleep well, Hiei.”

hope that 3 people who read it had fun <3

[the-hole-in-terzos-shoe]

Intro to Romantic Literature: Prologue

Professor!Terzo x TA!Reader (pretty gen for this part, but the main fic describes fem parts)

CW: implied smut, MDNI, 18+ only please, romantic tension, professor Terzo is a tease ✨

Word Count: 1.2k

I have been working on a Professor Terzo fic for MONTHS now, literally months. I'm getting close to the end, and this prologue popped in my head at 5 o'clock this morning, so I had to scribble it down. Plus, I think it'll make a cute little teaser 🥰 enjoy!

Intro to Romantic Literature: here!

Every day feels like a big day as you barrel towards the end of your degree. The pressure of arranging your final portfolio of works, defending final arguments, typing papers... it's all really starting to get to you.

𝘐𝘵'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, the bittersweet thought crosses your mind. You'd finally be done with all this stress and move onto the ease of a consistent career, but you'd also be leaving behind the best job you've ever known. Leaving 𝘩𝘪𝘮 behind.

In fact, you're so lost in your thoughts, collecting and organizing papers and files so efficiently--you could do it in your sleep at this point--that you don't notice him staring at you, the pained expression on your professor's face that would tell you it eats him up to see you like this: so stressed you're ready to snap.

He reads you like the many leaves and pages studied in his romantic literature class, like a poem written just for him. You recite your feelings to him daily without knowing it; it's in the way you walk, the way you hold yourself, the way you tilt your head when you rest the tip of your pen on your bottom lip, lost in thought on the class discussion at hand.

Sauntering into his office, you drop your shoulders as you flop into his soft leather chair, taking a deep breath before sorting papers accordingly: lesson plans in the bottom right desk drawer, books on the bookshelf, papers to be graded in the third slot of the black wire rack, anything needing immediate attention left squarely on his desk in plain sight.

"Grazie, stellina," his voice snaps you back to reality, immediately causing your cheeks to flush at the nickname. 'Little star' is what it means. It makes you feel like a teacher's pet, which would've bothered you if it had been anyone else; however, it makes you feel special to earn attention from him. "La mia brava ragazza, you always do such a good job for me." He leans in the doorway, running a hand through his graying locks.

"Thank you, Professor Emeritus," it comes just above a whisper, and you look down at the desk briefly before standing to make your exit.

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast," he murmurs, catching your waist as you try to pass him in the little room. Spinning you around, he pins the back of your thighs to the desk before leaving some space between you... Just enough space to be respectful, but a clear indication that you're not getting out of this so easily.

You're so caught up in the intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne that you hardly hear him when he asks how you've been. "Hm?" you reply, playing naïve.

"Tesoro, please, I can't have my favorite student looking as distracted as you've been lately," he starts, but you interrupt him.

"I'm not your student, I'm your teaching assistant," you remind him with a light hearted smile.

"You are still learning things, no?" he cocks one thick black eyebrow in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat, his intense white eye putting you in checkmate.

"I suppose so," you whisper, looking down at his ridiculously shiny loafers.

His fingers under your chin direct your stare back up, "What has you so distant, eh? Would you like to talk about it, cara? Confess your sins... So to speak." He winks at you, earning a small huff of a laugh from you.

"What are you, the Pope?" you joke.

His eyebrows quirk in an unreadable way, but he stays silent, urging an answer from you.

"I've just been really stressed with school," you finally concede, letting out a breath you'd been holding.

"Have I put too much on you?" he worries about the workload he's given you cutting into your schedule.

"No!" you look up at him almost desperately, "No, I enjoy this position so much. It's everything else. The final papers, getting good grades, trying to graduate." You choke on the last few words; it was something you'd been emotional about the last few weeks, plus your professor had your guard down.

"Don't cry, tesoro," he commands softly, but it's already too late as tears flood your waterline. Without a second thought, he cups your face in his hands, wiping away anything that threatens to spill across your cheeks. Wrapping a protective arm around your waist, he pulls you flush to his chest before fishing a handkerchief from his pocket, because of course he has one, and dabbing softly under your eyes before offering the piece of silk to you.

"Thank you," you stutter, clutching the cloth in your hand. Hesitantly, you glance up at him before laying your head on his chest, folding your arms under his in a hug.

His hand on your waist falls to caress the small of your back while the other cradles your head, while you regulate your breathing. You can't say for certain, but you think you feel a whisper of a kiss placed on the crown of your head. Holding each other like that for however long, you don't know, but when his fingertips gently start to massage your scalp, you let out an involuntary moan.

Your cheeks blush pink again, meeting a much more heated look in his mismatched eyes. As his warm hands move to grasp at your hips and waist, suddenly all of your worries melt away, as the only thing you can think about is him hoisting you up on the perfectly organized little desk and having his way with you, your panties tossed aside in his office chair, and you laid back and arched up into him while he works every tension from your needy body.

Your fantasy fades away when Professor Emeritus's hand cups your chin again, fingers pressing into your jawbone in a dominant way to lift your face to his. Your gaze wanders to his plump lips... how many times you've thought of having them on you.

His thumb gently strokes your cheek as he leans impossibly closer, and one of your hands smoothes over his firm chest.

But before he makes a move that he can't come back from, he presses the pad of his thumb firmly against your supple lips, stopping himself from crossing the line, even though he so badly wants to... wants you.

He gives you a solemn nod before putting some distance between your bodies, "I hope you're feeling a little better, after our, uh... chat, stellina."

"Uh huh..." is all you manage to breathe out before straightening up. "Yes, sir."

Offering a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, he carefully presses a kiss to your cheek before sending you on your way.

Tonight, you'll tell yourself that you misread the situation, that he was only trying to be a kind and caring professor, but somewhere deep down inside you, under lock and key, you know that isn't true. Especially because you felt something hard graze against your hip as you squeezed past him and out into the hallway, but you put that thought far behind you as you head back to your dorm.

[benkyoutobentou]

31 Days of Productivity Reading: Day Two

Before: Alright, I think I should show you my manga tracking sheet. I don't actually have any organization for my unread Japanese novels, but I have a tbr shelf for my English novels and the aforementioned Sheet for my manga. Also, I should be going to pick up (guess what) (take a guess) (yeah okay you guessed it) more books today! I should have a package at the post office today, if I don't I'll cry because it should have been sitting there for a few days and that's way too much manga to lose in the mail. Yes you will be getting a haul photo. And how much did I spend on it total? Less than ten USD. I only paid shipping! The internet is a very wonderful place with many wonderful people.

I usually don’t have a whole lot of time to read on Saturdays because I’m running errands all day, but I’m hoping to finish another chapter of No. 6 (I did finish a chapter last night!). This next chapter is shorter than usual for this series (about thirty pages as opposed to around fifty) so hopefully I will be able to get some manga reading in today as well. I’m fully expecting to keep saying that and not reading any manga until I finish this book.

After: As expected and as usual, my reading time was pretty condensed today and have only read for a total of one hour and eight minutes. Like yesterday, though, I'm planning on reading for around another hour before bed to finish up this chapter. I'm about halfway through, so that puts me on track for that timeline.

As you saw, my manga did come in today! It’s the two stacks on their sides. Where you see them is where they’re staying. I planned to go to Ikea today to get height extensions for my bookcases, but they were out of stock. :') They were in stock last weekend and last time I bought a bookcase, I had to wait probably three weeks for it to come in. I love how the only Ikea in my area never stocks anything. Anyways, my new manga tracking sheet is so ridiculous, now you see why I need this challenge. If you see any favorites on the list that I should get to sooner rather than later, feel free to bully me into reading it :3c

I also had another package that was less expected; my Notebook Therapy notebook came in! I've been waiting on this for two weeks now, and I can finally start studying ASL now that I have it! Unfortunately, I doubt I actually will, because this upcoming week for me is going to be insanely busy.

The day’s final update: I didn’t end up finishing the chapter, but at this point I’d rather sleep. The next chapter is also on the shorter side so hopefully it won’t be too much of an issue to fit these extra pages in there. Also, as an established No. 6 fan, I know that this chapter is going to end with a hugely important revelation for Shion, so I’m a bit disappointed that I didn’t have the time to finish it. But it’s something to look forward to for tomorrow!

For today’s totals, I read twenty pages in an hour and twenty seven minutes. That’s 4.3 minutes per page, which is pretty much exactly what I clocked yesterday as well. At least I’m consistent!

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 2 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school’s resident bad boy…. Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don’t like don’t read XD

wordcount : 3k

a/n: honestly overwhelming response for the first part. thank you so much 💜💜💜😳

here's the second.

somehow, this took up a new genre for itself while editing and became sort of a bit enemies to friends to partners in sin.

that is to say, I have a template for this but this could go any ( dirty ) way.

let me know if you like this and are curious to know how things play out.

also, spot the cameo. it's so dumb but still. I couldn't think of anything else.

enjoy.

1 2

Paranoia was an old friend of yours.

Very real, very scary and not very nice to you, your peace of mind or your tested soul.

In your head, you already played out a million different ways the image you’d spent years building could come falling apart.

All because of him. Jeon Jungkook.

Though much to your surprise and fortune- he didn’t tell anyone.

You spent the entire weekend fretting over nothing.

It was almost like none of it ever happened.

Like your parents weren't about to tie the knot soon. Like you weren’t about to become step siblings.

Like he didn't walk in on his said step sister to be masturbating in front of a camera.

In the aftermath of that inexplicably humiliating incident, you had to make up some dumb excuse to satiate your viewers for ending the stream so abruptly.

It was your cat they heard speaking, you told them.

Cats don’t speak of course, certainly not in a deep baritone. But they were effectively distracted by the string of full nudes you posted soon after that.

Those few accusatory comments saying that you did have a boyfriend after all were buried by those coming from very horny people who were over the moon about the little apology gift.

That was out of the way, but you had a more pressing matter at hand.

That night, Jungkook had walked out after saying what he had to say without another word, leaving you feeling stunned and oddly cold.

It was like all the heat in your body just ceased to exist the moment he closed the door behind him and left you there all on your own. You didn’t even get to finish but that was beside the point.

The point was, you thought that meant like with many other things, and as people should since this was a free world, he didn’t give a shit what you did with your free time or your body.

But as the days progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were gravely mistaken.

Because contrary to that, he seemed to be up to something.

These days, he came around very often. Completely unprovoked and on his own accord.

It didn’t help that your mom loved having him around and feeding him.

Sometimes he was there for lunch after school. Other times he was there to fucking read the books in the study.

It was all ridiculous and quite honestly it was starting to get on your fraying nerves.

He didn’t even live there! You grumbled in pure frustration internally every time your mom asked you to add an extra plate for him on the dining table. This was your place!

Intentional or not he seemed to just love spending his time at your house for some reason.

But that just wouldn’t do.

The thing was you didn't know how to tell him you’d like to have the peace of mind he’d robbed you of by being all up in your living space every other day back.

He couldn’t just keep coming around.

Things were awkward enough without you having to see him often so already in between fleeting glimpses at school and lingering glances over the occasional dinner.

He might have been able to play it cool because it didn’t matter to him but this was a big deal for you.

He knew your secret and what else were you to do but be on edge and fidgety around him even though it seemed like he wouldn’t say a word of it?

But in the end, you couldn’t voice out your concerns. Not to him and certainly not to your mom.

So you were stuck here.

In between a massive rock and a very hard place.

Forced to endure even though you really felt like you’d been pushed past your limit.

Because he was there all the time.

For the most random reasons doing the most random things at the most random places at the most random time.

One time he had been casually listening to music while smoking by the pool and stroking the strings of his damned, matte black guitar.

You had been so stressed from all the work at school with the elections for new committee members amongst the juniors coming up so you thought to go for a swim to relax your self.

You honestly thought no one was around.

It was a Wednesday at noon so your mother was at lunch with some friends from high school. Plus, in the back of your mind, you’d reasoned that Jungkook usually only ever came over when she was around.

So you put on your best little bikini, grabbed a floatie and a soft drink and you went out.

Only to pause when you saw him sitting on one of the white lounging chairs, just looking at you with his earphones on, fingers having stilled mid strumming with a soft veil of smoke over his face.

You didn’t need to think twice to turn back.

There had been something about how his heavy lidded gaze took you in through the smoke as he did that thing where he cocked his head to the side that made you step back and quickly go back in.

You felt yourself get impossibly hotter when you realized you were probably giving him an eyeful of your poorly covered ass in motion.

You knew he was looking. You could feel his stare. Heavy. Intent. Dark. Swirling.

Like when he'd walked in on you.

You were hot and bothered the entire day.

In the end you couldn’t get anything productive done with a straight mind. And it was all his fault.

.

It took you about two weeks to crack.

That particular evening you were decided on telling your mom about this dilemma you were in.  

Coincidentally, your mom had gone and invited him and his dad over for dinner.

Great. Just great.

You had no choice but to deeply consider the possibility of having to spill the beans another time.

Because choosing now to tell your mom meant you would probably need to tell his dad as well since they were attached at the hip every time he came over.

But no, you wouldn’t expose him in front of his father too. You weren’t cruel. Also you didn’t need the school's menace resenting you for making his strict, uptight dad turn on him.

If he didn’t have a reason to expose you before, he certainly would have one if things spiraled out that way.

So you bit your bitter tongue.

This time around, dinner was a more relaxed affair.

The weather was nice so your mom decided on a barbeque at your back yard.

This meant you wore a flowy sun dress like your mom did and he wore a loose navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and some black casual beach shorts.

His tattoos were on full display.

You stared.

You were only distracted by them and how the patterns dance on his skin when his muscles flex as he flips whatever he is cooking on the fire because she’s never seen them in full before, you strongly reasoned.

Even with his sleeves rolled up when he was uniform, you'd only seen what he had on his forearm briefly other than the ones on the back of his hand.

That night didn’t count. It was too dim to see well. Also, that night technically didn’t exist.

Your eyes were particularly drawn to the little something peeking out the collar of his shirt.

You were too busy trying to figure out whether the curling ink around his collar bone was the flick of flames or the end of a dragon’s tail to notice that he’d lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe at the dots of sweet at his brows.

When you do, you suddenly found yourself being given an eyeful of impossibly ripped, ridged pure muscle.

You almost dropped your glass like you did your jaw.

What the holy fuck?

At that exact moment, he lifted his gaze and caught you staring.

He was probably expecting you to look away. Any decent human would expect that if they caught someone staring at them so openly. Gawking, to be completely honest.

But you didn’t. You quickly recover, pulling yourself together, and you met his gaze squarely.

You clutched the drink in your hand tight. Your pride wouldn’t let you look away.

In your own way, it was your little pay back, weak as it was.

He held your gaze with an unreadable look on his face for a moment with that signature slight tilt to his head and an added lift to his brow, before he looked away. Wordlessly, he let his shirt fall to push his hair back with his hand and went back to grilling.

You let herself breath then and tried not to think about how his biceps flexed at the motion, how his hair slicked back made him look even more dangerous and how the little smirk you caught on his lips was making you feel things she shouldn’t be.

.

Your mom suggested you all hang out at the pool once you were done eating.

You hadn’t been there since that day with him and quite frankly, you would rather not be.

Not with him.

You knew your mom had a swimsuit underneath her dress. She made you wear one as well.

She probably told them to come prepared for a swim too.

Just thinking about it made you short circuit.

You tore your gaze away from where he was standing with his father at the poolside, staring blankly at the surface as the older man talked to him about something.

You'd just come back from clearing the table with your mom.

When you guys got close enough, the men look your way. Jungkook’s eyes immediately landed on you. Meanwhile you just stare at your mom, trying to ignore his inexplicably fixed attention on you.

‘It’s shame we can’t swim.’

Your mother said, reaching for her boyfriend’s hand. She gave Jungkook a soft, apologetic smile.

‘Maybe once the weather is not so chilly.’ She sighed regretfully. ‘If I had known you were sensitive to the cold I would have suggested something else.’

‘It’s fine.’ Your eyes flicker to him. The smile he puts on is small and polite. ‘I’m not a very good swimmer anyway I’m afraid.’

‘Nonsense.’ She dismissed in good nature. ‘I heard you were quite the athlete in middle school. It’s all your father ever talks about sometimes. Right, honey?'

His father just grumbled.

You couldn’t hide your surprise at this revelation. You didn’t know this before.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then he smiles a little with a shrug.

‘That was in the past.’

Your eyes just glided to him when he said that.

The tug at his lip looked wry and sad.

You’d never seen him like this before.

Solemn. Sombre. Not serious or intimidating or indifferent.

It felt like you were viewing him in a new light.

.

You settled on drinks by the pool. It was what your mom does to lighten things up.

It seemed like the gloom from earlier wasn’t all part just a part of your imagination.

Her mother suddenly chirped in between the light conversation.

'Why don't you guys get together and have a little group study?'

You suppressed the urge to groan and roll your eyes to the back of your head. You knew what she was trying to do and you wanted no part in it.

You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.

You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.

He beat you to it.

'That sounds nice,' he dared to say, even politely addressing your mom with Mrs. alongside her surname in the end uttered just the way she liked. 'I'd like that.’

You gawked at him in disbelief. Complete and utterly speechless.

Was he insane ??

'Doesn't it? Great!' Your mom is over the moon. 'Dear, take him to the study. You guys can do your teenager things and get along over books there.'

.

Your mom was loving and caring and she only ever wanted the best for you. You knew this.

Maybe she wanted them to get to know each other. Or maybe she just wanted to have some alone time with her man.

Either way, she practically shoved you two into the house with so much enthusiasm you wondered if she really loved you because suddenly you found yourself stuck inside your house with the last person you wanted to be with and you did not feel safe or rested.

The walk up the spirally stairs to the study had got to be one of the most intense, dragging moments of your whole life.

He remained a few steps behind you all through out the journey, following your lead in his own leisured pace.

A few steps too damn far behind in your opinion.

From that angle, you had a strong inkling that he could see your underwear from beneath your dress.

You knew this because you were familiar with what it felt like when he was staring.

What you couldn’t quite explain is why you didn't do a thing about it.

.

If awkward silence could manifest into a solid form for being so intense, there would have been a third occupant in the room the moment you two walked into the study.

It would’ve been so massive, all the high shelves and wooden tables lined up would have been demolished.

Jungkook remained the quiet person he was, looking around and skimming through the books on the shelves.

You were standing a safe distance away from him, absently doing the same. The books were interesting and all but you were admittedly more taken by the ink on his skin.

Up close you could clearly see the artistic patterns and symbols etched onto him.

While staring at the tats on his knuckles you couldn't help but also notice that the titles he picked up were rather complex.

Certainly not the kind of thing even high intellects reached for. Evidently, those tomes had been collecting dust in there for ages.

You were decidedly curious. Itching to ask. Hell, dying to know.

You dived before you could overthink it and find reasons not to satiate your rabid curiosity.

'You like Reader?' he paused and looked at you from the corner of his eyes. At his questioning look she gesture to the book he was holding. 'That's the third book of theirs you picked up.'

'Yeah.' he said casually, nodding a little while flipping through it. 'Their books are nice.'

A crippling lapse of silence ensues.

You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at the titles in front of you with a burn at your cheeks, fiddling with the polished spines.

How fucking awkward. All of this.

He probably felt the same.

What were you even doing?

You thought about telling him to ignore your mom’s attempt at trying to make the two of you get along. He obviously wasn’t looking for company or a friend. Quite frankly, neither were you. Certainly not from him. You were just trying to be not rude. Something you aren’t really surprised he probably failed to understand in all honesty.

But then he spoke, dragging you out of your reverie.

'What about you?'

Your head shot up and you found that he was standing a lot closer than before, having moved to reach for yet another complicated book to idly browse through at the top shelf.

This close, you could can smell him. Soft mint and clean soap and moonlight, not smoke. He disregarded the pages in his hands to give you a side way glance.

‘What do you like?’

There was a perpetual spark swimming in the dark depth of his eyes. It was striking. Pretty even.

When he lightly raised a brow at you, your thoughts jumbled all over before it fell back into place and you realized you were staring very openly.

But this time was different from the last time. When he had been miles away, flashing you his ripped abs.

In your reverie, you hadn’t notices that he had leaned a little to meet your eyes, and that he was real close. Like real close, looking at you intently with his head cocked to the side questioningly, like he was wondering what was going on inside your head. You could feel his breath fanning your face.

Shit.

'Uh,’ you scrambled for an answer, quickly tearing your gaze away from him to appraise the bookshelf. Your face felt like it was on fire. Considering how he hadn’t moved, he could probably see just how blazed in the face you were. Out of pure instinct, you grabbed a random book and shoved it into him to make some space in between your bodies.

Maybe with a little too much force. There was a dull thump and it made you wince.

'This.’

You hated how squeaky and breathless you sounded. Like you’d just ran a marathon. Might as well have, with how hard and fast your heart was pounding.

Jungkook took it from you, and you allowed yourself to look at him as he looked the cover over, completely fine, like you hadn’t just smacked him in the chest with a book.

The corner of his lips lifted a little as he flipped it over, cocking his head the other way before he chanced you a glance, making you blink rapidly and stand on edge.

'You sure?' he asked, sounding pretty amused. You were confused for a moment until he held  it up for you to see, flashing you a full on toothy grin like you’d never seen on him before. 'You like books about horse gentilia?'

The jump in your chest was something you quickly dismissed as being one of sinking dread rather than anything else.

All the color that had been congesting your face washed away.

If there was a time you truly wished the ground would swallow your entire existence whole, it would be right then and there.

 

word is telling me I made up the word genitilia but I’m pretty sure it’s real because it just rolls off the tongue ( smooth ) like butter like a criminal under the cover.

the hole is one of the recurring characters so please be nice to it.

alot of things happening here if you squint and look closely.

any-whomst've, hope you all liked it. let me know if you did and I don't know come say hi? 😳 have a nice day 💜

[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

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[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (03)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

SERIES: CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4

Note: OC is a lawyer but the author knows nothing about law except the three law subjects she took last semester. errors. ah. there will always be errors here bc english isn’t my first language. anyway!!! enjoy!

Jimin wasn't lying when he said you were a mess. This was evident to Jeongguk the second he stepped inside your apartment.

Pile of cardboard boxes and papers were cluttered all over the floor, causing him to feel uneasy. The faint colors visible in his eyes didn't help to calm his nerves. It was as if he suddenly became hypersensitive to his surroundings.

He assumed that your house wasn't really that untidy, but as stated, the colors made it seem like it was untidier.

"Hi there, buddy." Jeongguk forced a smile at the cat glaring at him. He remembered Jimin telling him that your cat was a bitch. The fury pet was making this strange, scary sound. Jeongguk suddenly wished you were here to stop the cat from attacking him.

He wasn't expecting you to lock yourself inside your room the moment you realized that he was your soulmate.

He was so startled by your reaction that his first instinct was to run after you. The thing was, your cat was blocking your bedroom door—stopping him from intruding your personal space. It was obvious that the little animal didn't like the fact that Jeongguk invited himself inside your home.

Jeongguk didn't know why you were hiding from him. In your defense, you were embarrassed. What were you supposed to say to your soulmate? How were you going to explain to him that the reason why you looked like a mess was because of your demanding job?

Being a civil lawyer was exhausting. One second you're negotiating settlement with the other side's attorney, then you would just find yourself filing motions in court and of course, there were many instances where you're standing before the jury and judge to present a case.

Expertise wasn't the only thing necessary in law. You also needed a great amount of empathy so that you could understand your clients. You cared for them a lot; this was why it was such a big deal for you whenever they choose to omit facts.

You hated it when your clients were being dishonest, you didn't need them to be innocent. You only wanted them to tell you the absolute truth so that you could properly defend them. It wasn't like your job was easy. The fact that most people living in your world see in black and white was already a pain in the ass. Earlier this day, you had a client who was suing a businessperson for selling fake whitening products. She claimed that she spent a whopping two thousand dollars to get that fair skin tone. Sadly, it didn't work.

The opposing side asked your client this: how can you say that the products don’t work when you can’t even see colors?

You were shocked to learn this. Your client was subject to a color test for eyes. She said she could see colors when in fact, she couldn't. Actually, the only reason why the vendor sold your client the whitening products was because she also lied to the seller. The latter's rule was that she wouldn't allow people who see in black and white to purchase her products. This was so she could protect her business' image from fraudster like your client.

Things like this often happened in court. The one you encountered were usually easier to resolve, unlike what criminal lawyers face. This, however, didn't mean your job should be taken lightly.

What happened in court today actually took a toll on you. Your boss humiliated you in front of your colleagues, saying that he couldn't believe an experienced lawyer like you would make such rookie mistake. This made you feel like a loser that's why you decided to go home early to rest. You knew you couldn't work when your heart was this heavy.

You ran yourself a bath the moment you reached your apartment. Jimin was bombarding your phone with text messages to remind you that Jeongguk, a friend of his, was going to drop at your place later today since he was interested to be your roommate.

You simply replied 'Yes, I haven't forgotten. Stop pestering me,' to your best friend. Truthfully, Jimin hadn't shut up about this guy named Jeongguk since last week. He kept telling you that he was the perfect replacement for Seulgi, your former roommate.

You just shrugged it off. Honestly, you didn't care if Jeongguk was the perfect roommate or not. At this point, you would take anyone in. You seriously needed someone who could help you with the household chores.

The warm water grazing your skin made you feel sleepy. Before you knew it, you're off to dreamland; however, your little slumber was disrupted by loud knocks coming from your front door.

"Shit!" Your eyes went wide upon realizing that your supposed to be new roommate was already at the door. As if to confirm the horror, your phone rang.

Jimin was calling.

"Where the hell are you? Jeongguk is in front of your door!"

"I know. I'm so sorry! I fell asleep." You got out of the tub, hurriedly putting on your bathrobe.

"Talk to you later!" You ended the voice call, rushing towards the door. Unfortunately, you slipped on the wet floor.

You whined in pain. Luck was truly not on your side today, but instead of getting annoyed, you simply stood up and went your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking so I slipped down the floor and I..." You were already blabbering right after opening the door. You hadn't seen your future roommate's face because it was easier to lie without looking at someone in the eyes.

You didn't know why you told him you heard his first knock, when in reality, you didn't. You guessed you just hated disappointing people. What happened with your boss today was something you couldn't let to be repeated again. You couldn't bear to irritate another person.

You kept yourself busy as you reasoned out. You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jeongguk to see his reaction.

It was like the world stopped.

No. You did not see colors instantly. What you felt was something strange—mystical perhaps. It was just like how they described it in books and movies.

You thought people were exaggerating about what they claimed they felt when they met their soulmates.

Apparently, they were not.

You know the feeling of finally seeing the rainbow after the strong storm? It was like that. Except this was way better. Your young self was probably rejoicing now. Being able to meet and look in your soulmate's eyes was dazzling.

The colors were becoming visible now, it was faint—this was in contrast to the embarrassment you were feeling.

You suddenly became very self-conscious with what you looked like. You were wrong. Your young self wasn't that happy because she wasn't expecting to meet her soulmate like this.

You were aware that you looked awful. The bags under your bloodshot eyes were probably so deep. The soap suds in your hair made you appear ridiculous. The most horrifying of all? You were wearing a bathrobe designed with the face of your favorite cartoon character.

"Uh—"

You ran away, locking yourself in your room before Jeongguk could finish what he was about to say.

Your heart was beating so fast as you stared in the mirror. The disgust you felt intensified. God. You looked horrible. You mentally cursed the brand of the mascara you were wearing. So much for claiming to be smudge proof! Curse yourself too because this wouldn't happen in the first place if you only refrained from crying over your boss' mean words, but it seemed like you never learned. You just scolded yourself from crying easily, but here you were, tears were painting your cheeks once again.

"No..." Your lips quivered. You were stronger than this. You weren't going to ruin your chance with your soulmate.

Determined, you quickly changed into a sage dress. Your hands were trembling because of your new found excitement. You loved colors ever since you were a kid. The fact that you couldn't see them didn't stop you from learning its meaning. You studied good color combination before. You were aware how to aesthetically match the hues. For instance, you knew that you would look ridiculous if you wore a neon green shirt and bright pink jeans. You were always careful in choosing what to wear, so now that you could finally see colors without referring to your color palette generator, you were beyond happy.

When you looked decent enough, you decided to finally face your soulmate. The first thing you saw as you opened your bedroom door was Jeongguk sitting on your couch—this was a very shocking scene. No. You weren't surprised because he was casually plopped down on your sofa, what you didn't expect was to see Miri, your bitch of a cat, to be so comfortable on Jeongguk's lap. Your pet looked at peace; the usual hiss she was making was replaced by a silent purring. Her bambi eyes mirrored your soulmate's same big, doe eyes.

You cleared your throat to get Jeongguk's attention.

"I let myself in, I hope you don't mind." You couldn't decipher what he was feeling. Jeongguk's voice was soft, but there was no hint of emotion there. His expression was also unreadable.

Jeongguk tore his gaze away from you when he realized that you were staring. As if this wasn't already awkward for him, you went on to say something that made him more uncomfortable.

"I've been waiting so long to meet you! Are you going to move in with me now?" You plopped down beside Jeongguk, squeezing your body between him and the arm of your sofa. Miri hissed since she was astounded by your sudden action. Actually, Jeongguk was surprised too. Your couch was pretty spacious; he didn't understand why you had to press yourself beside him.

Jeongguk also didn't know why you sounded so hopeful. The sparks in your eyes caused him to scowl; however, this didn't stop you from speaking your hopeless thoughts.

"We could do a lot of things together! I had planned everything since I was young!" You giggled. You didn't know why you were so comfortable telling him things. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you two were soulmates.

However Jeongguk was confused with your weird idea of wanting to do all of this romantic stuff with him. The uneasiness he felt couldn't be contained anymore when you abruptly talked about dating—as in dating him.

"Whoa, whoa..." He cut you off, arching his brow and moving away from you. "Slow down, will you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." You blushed, immediately realizing that you had gone too far. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I was just excited to meet you." You couldn't help but beam at him.

Jeongguk continued to raise his brow at you.

"Why? Are you really that desperate to find a roommate?"

It was your turn to raise a brow at him.

"N-No, I just..." You breathed in, unsure of what to say. "I'm just happy to finally meet my soulmate."

"Soulmate?"

You flinched because of the bitterness in his voice. His innocent eyes turned dark, he was glaring at you. Miri was startled once more. She jumped on your lap because she was getting scared of Jeongguk.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't believe in soulmates." The word 'soulmate' sounded so rough coming from him, making you flinch again.

Many people had told you that you were good at gauging the feelings of other people, this was why your heart skipped a beat when you saw pain and anger crossed Jeongguk's feature. It was as if he was betrayed by someone.

"It's the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Only stupid people believe in soulmates. I mean—" Jeongguk sucked in a breath. He was so annoyed that he didn't even know how to express his thoughts without breaking apart. "It's limiting the possibilities for people. Why am I required to fall in love with someone I barely know? Why should I leave the person I truly love just because a person meant to be the love of my life," he paused, quoting the words love of my life in the air. "Helped me see colors? It's like forcing me to do something I don't—no, I can't do. It's such a burden. Love can't be bought. I refuse to be with people just because they helped me."

There was silence after Jeongguk's long speech of the reasons why he didn't—or as what he claimed—couldn't love you.

Jeongguk wetted his bottom lip. The silence was making him hate himself. He hated himself because he saw the tears forming in your eyes, an obvious sign that you were hurt because of what he said. But most importantly, he hated you.

It was unlikely of him to hate someone he just met—or to simply hate anyone at all, but everything about you was making him mad as hell.

He hated your hopeful eyes, he hated your beliefs, he hated that you were the person hindering him from being with Red.

He knew it was unfair to blame you since Red chose to leave on her own, but he still couldn't help himself because the idea of soulmate was what urged her to leave.

You were Jeongguk's soulmate and for him, it meant nothing. So with a furrowed brow, he stared hard at you as he said this:

"I'm making you choose right now. Either accept me as Jeongguk, your tenant or Jeongguk, your soulmate. But just so you know, I will never stay with you if you treat me like a soulmate."

His word stung, though you were aware that the only way to make him stay was to choose the former option. At least this way, you got to be with your soulmate.

The colors you see were starting to fade away and it was okay...

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 12

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ for explicit sexual content: depictions of sub/dom lifestyle and lead up to m/m sexual relationship. If it’s not your thing please keep scrolling. Thank you!

~

Is there a word for this feeling? The one that happens when you wake up not knowing when or where you are…

Is it day, is it night? Is this my bed? Is this even a bed? Am I home and if not, how far away am I? So many questions go tumbling around in your head so quickly that you just have to shut your eyes against the bizarre sensation. It’s one of the few that’s happened to absolutely everyone at some point. And as you lie there in bed —yes, this is definitely a bed— you think, no way the Germans don’t have a word for this strange phenomenon.

Inhaling slowly, exhaling even slower, you finally feel it come rushing back to you so that by the time you’ve filled your lungs with a nice deep breath of salty ocean air, the smile that raises your cheeks turns into a silent laugh as you roll onto your side, curling up tight, sliding your hand across the empty expanse of the cool bedsheets, lightly perfumed by the fading scent of his cologne which makes you feel warm all over.

You open your eyes, blinking, focusing, letting the view refresh the last of the memories.

You should have known, you think laying your hand on the pillow where he’d been. You stroke the high thread count like you did his hair and his face as he’d looked into your eyes and your racing hearts settled. How many unnecessary tears were shed for him? How much time was spent worrying that you might never see the man again when all you had to do was trust that no prison could keep Helmut Zemo locked away for long, and you laugh because a year must be a record for shortest maximum security prison stays.

Now, while escaping from the supposedly inescapable is impressive, you can’t begin to fathom how he’s done it and you’re more than happy to keep it that way which is probably for the best as Zemo’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want you in possession of said knowledge for your own safety. The less you know at this uncertain stage in the game the better. You’re physically far from government detection or any others lookin to recapture the Baron for that matter, still, nothing is ever fully guaranteed.

Luckily it’s hard to feel anything other than at peace as you smile and lazily roll onto your back, stretching your arms over your head before looking down the length of the king sized bed to find the source of light warming your bare skin.

Oh, you smile That’s right.

The matching circular windows are very large and offer views of wild blue water as far as the eye can see. It is the very definition of tranquility.

And just off to the side is a glass door that opens to a large balcony just calling your name. You'll spend too much time out there soon enough you think, imagining falling asleep with a good book and a drink. After all, you’ve got two weeks before you reach France and then it's a quick flight to you final destination of Villefranche-Sur-Mer, according to Zemo.

Two incredible weeks— and to think you’d nearly dismissed that text this morning as nothing but annoying spam.

Luckily something about it brought you back after you'd poured cereal and milk into your bowl. You’d sat at the kitchen counter unable to look away from that single message sent from an unknown number, your breakfast all but forgotten.

It was short and to the point and it reminded you of the kind Zemo used to send what felt like a lifetime ago when the instructions were no more than a time but now there was the added bonus of a location and you were no longer the sole recipient.

The sound of Bucky charging down the hall of his apartment that had become just as much yours since Zemo went away answered the question before it could be asked.

“You got it too didn’t you?” You’d asked him looking up.

Bucky stood in the doorway, hair wet and slicked back from his shower, gripping the towel he’d quickly tossed around his waist and smelling like your body wash which he liked to snag when he ran out of his own. You didn’t mind so much but it was confusing when you were a tangle of arms and legs and other parts that smelled the same…

“It’s a trick. It’s gotta be.” He’d insisted, to which you’d rolled your eyes and considered throwing your phone at his head for saying something so ridiculous. Why would Zemo play a game so cruel. “He’s in the raft” He said your name with a finality that made you reconsider, but when you looked down at your phone again, you knew it wasn’t true.

This was him. This was Zemo.

“Go get dressed. I really think something’s happened.” You’d told him. He’d stood there for a second longer, his face unreadable. But he did turn and disappear down the hall, wet footprints on the hard wood left behind.

You must have been shaking as you waited. You’d been so anxious and your head a mess of worry and hope and fear and hesitation but so much excitement.

By the time Bucky came back dressed in sweats and a t-shirt which bothered you because you wanted him dressed to go, you were completely convinced you’d hear a knock at the door and find the Baron on the other side, you’d always been good at working yourself up into a frenzy.

Bucky had been the complete opposite. You can still see him; a gloomy hundred year old kill-joy.

You remember thinking he might have been a worried at first. A little jealous or scared maybe? Like he’d gotten too used to your life and the return of the man responsible for what you had together could also be the one to see it come to an end which was just silly. James was and would always will be your best friend, but your friendship had long since proven to be more than late night Netflix binging and ordering takeout.

In fact the night before the text, he’d come in long after you’d gone to bed. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks on some grand mission with Sam —off to save the world no doubt.

You were dreaming when he’d slipped in behind you and pulled you close, waking you with the warmth of those perfect lips so soft and full, the touch of his kiss leaving a trail of heat down your shoulder and back, only to flip you over once you were half awake with the strength of that wonderfully dangerous arm. As he pulled your shorts down and found you in the dark, you happily gave in, welcoming him home as only you could, and never once did either of you expect that your unconventional but comfortable life would come to such an abrupt end.

But no, he wasn’t jealous. You knew it because there was something sort of sweet in the look of shock on his face that gave you pause in asking why he was reacting this way.

That, was the look of man conflicted.

As you’d begun cleaning the apartment —certain you’d be leaving it soon— you’d paused and studied him sitting on the couch, alone with his thoughts, phone held in his hand like he’d never put it down. You knew Bucky well enough to know the basics of what he must have been thinking.

The Winter Soldier had been trapped in the living prison of his own body for a lifetime. Now Bucky was forever free to make his own choices. You certainly wouldn’t be the one to persuade him into doing anything he didn’t truly want to do. But you also knew that you weren’t alone in missing Zemo; not after what the three of you had shared and certainly not after what the two of them had come so close to starting.

But that poor dear, somewhat clueless man. For someone who was still adjusting to life in the present day after such a strange journey you tried to cut him some slack. He was still torn, still stuck between worlds. Having to question what he knew about his sexuality didn’t seem like a very fair thing to have to add to the mix, but that’s life. Unexpected to say the least.

He could no more deny his draw to Zemo than he could his desire to be a good person. These things were solid facts; He didn’t want to kill anymore and he was absolutely attracted to this man and presumably others, but yes particularly this one.

But now he was worried that giving in to his own happiness might cost him his friendship with people like Sam, and almost certainly his freedom when he’d only just gotten it back. Not because of being bi-sexual, but, because of, well— Helmut Zemo.

As much as you didn’t want to, you could easily understand the conflict.

Once you’d finished cleaning and packing your weekend bag you went back into the living room and made him look at you. “I know you’re worried about Sam and the others. All those super heroes you know. But what sort of friends would they be if they stopped you from living your life the way you want to live it?”

“Good ones if It means living with an escaped criminal.” His retort was so logical. You hate it when he’s right.

“One that you helped escape before right?”

“That was for a reason. This is all Zemo.”

“Did he really deserve to be in there?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question.”

You did not, so you’d stepped away and gave in, just letting him be.

It was frustrating to say the least but Bucky was not allowed to steal your joy, no matter how true it all was. Unfortunately, he was very much tied to that joy.

When you’d rushed back down the hall almost forgetting your tooth brush, he’d finally gotten up and gone into the bedroom but you'd ignored him, not out of anger but because It broke your heart to think you’d be leaving him alone to his own misery. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but if you absolutely had to you would.

Zemo was the man you’d loved long before you met Bucky, you would not put the Baron aside for another person's moral dilemmas, even if might crush your heart. You would leave and send word of where you and Zemo were and hope that he could join you in time but you had to see Helmut, you couldn’t ignore the message.

However, Sargent James Buchanan Barnes could be a real man of surprise when he wanted to be.

As you finished cleaning up, tears in your eyes for what you would be leaving behind, he’d come into the kitchen with his own black duffle bag and tossed it down on the floor.You’d spun around at the sound of it hitting the tile and kept it together but you could have screamed you were so happy.

He gave you that “don’t say anything” look so instead you just flashed a brilliant smile and kissed his cheek which he dismissed as if he didn’t love it, but you saw the way his eyes lit up. He could have hidden it from someone else who hadn’t spent the last year living with him but not you.

“It’s not permanent. I can’t stay no matter where he’s taking us. But, for a little while I think it’ll be all right."

“Of course!” You weren't pressed, you'd just talk him into it later because as of that minute you’d been too elated to care about time.

*

“So what the hell are these instructions?” You’d asked Bucky in the cab out of the city

“I have an idea.” He said shaking his head a little. He was clearly thinking ‘what have I gotten myself into’ which made you laugh. You could hear Zemo in your head, his answer simply being ‘Trouble’

“Well where are we going?” You’d asked anxious to know more.

“I don’t think we’re staying in New York if that’s what you’re asking.”

You’d quickly looked back at the city, watching the bridges fade behind you, wondering if you’d see them again. There was a strong possibility that it would be a while before you did.

As expected, Bucky knew his stuff. You were definitely leaving the city. The instructions were a time and location as you’d guessed but you hadn’t understood that the second half were coordinates and not for the cab.

When you got out of the very expensive car ride— which you charged to that handy little black credit card that had magically appeared in your mailbox about a year ago (thanks prison daddy)— the two of you stood in what looked like no more than an old shipping yard.

“Come on, I actually know this place. We need to go this way.” Bucky said with his head down and eyes up, his serious face looking every bit the superhero he was when he wasn’t with you. It always made you laugh a little. This was the same guy who also sat around in his underwear watching reality competition shows with you eating ice cream…

“What’s this way?”

“Room.”

Cryptic. They always love being cryptic you’d grumbled following him, feeling on edge as you’d snaked your way through the maze of shipping containers and storage units.

As you came near the water, the rusted out rectangles did in fact clear and the narrow passages opened up giving enough space, or as Bucky had said, ‘room’ for a blacked out helicopter to rise up. It was the sort of midsized military grade machine made for traveling long distance and sitting inside was a pilot-- the sort who deals in silence and cash only transactions.

“What exactly did you tell Sam?” You’d asked once you were in the air with your headset on. “I’m sure you had to tell him something to keep him and anyone else from asking questions.”

“That I finally decided to take a vacation” Bucky’d said, his voice clear in your ears as he glanced at you. He didn't have to ask for you to see that he really didn't want you to make fun of him for it either.

“Ha! And he bought that?”

“I think so. He said it was— a good look for me.” He mocked Sams tone.

You’d laughed rubbing his warm arm and laying your head on his shoulder agreeing with Sam whole heartedly but for very different reasons.

About an hour or more in you’d fallen asleep only to be startled awake by the sound of Bucky’s humorless laughter just in time to see your destination come into view.

“I knew it.” He’d sneered looking through your window.

“Oh my god” You sat up leaning forward peering down at the white oval in the expanse of blue.

“Of course.” The way Bucky could detest Zemo’s opulence would forever amuse you. He’d sat back refusing to look anymore, as if you weren’t about to land anyway.

“It's perfect,” You’d insisted.

“He’s such an asshole” He'd grumbled but you’d caught the little twitch of a smile.

“Shut up Bucky. It’s amazing”

“Its a god damned yacht!” His voice gone high with the absolute offense of it all.

All you could do was laugh.

*

You lie in bed remembering stepping out of the helicopter, your bags tossed out and the bird in the air so quickly it’s like the pilot was never there.

“Still think this was a good idea?” Bucky’d asked as if anything about this might have changed your mind.

Impressed by the private landing pad on the highest deck but already aware of the delights that were undoubtedly waiting below, you’d just smiled and gave his cheek a pat. “Come on.”

Bucky grabbed both bags and you’d led him down the steps and onto a massive deck of beautiful pale wood lined with low white couches at the far end, blinding in the bold sun. Beneath the overhang was a large wet bar, with glasses already set out and an ice bucket, the neck of a champagne bottle greeting you.

“Please miss. Allow me”

You’d both looked behind you, startled to find the old butler Oeznik coming up from the center stairwell.

Poor thing, you'd nearly toppled him, throwing your arms around his neck but you really did adore that wonderful old man. He’d just laughed and hugged you back welcoming you aboard.

You thanked him but no sooner had he offered had you forgotten all about his hospitality.

Your back had been turned when you heard your name said with the soft accented voice that you had missed, craved and imagined for so many months…

“Helmut.” You will never forget what it felt like to turn and find him.

He stepped from the shadows and into the sun and you can still feel the way you’d bit down on your bottom lip to keep from crying.

Those eyes, that hair, his smile; so subtle and sly. You’d nearly forgotten that you could in fact go to him. He wasn’t just a man made up from your lonely daydreams but flesh and blood and so perfectly made.

It took him drawing his hands from his pants pockets— linen pants of all the casual things— to break the spell.

He’d opened his arms to just the right size for you and there was no holding back then.

What had it felt like? You try to remember now, but it's useless. You can remember him pulling you in as though he couldn’t stand another second without you close. You’d closed your eyes inhaling his scent as he touched your face and hair, his fingers brushing along your neck and shoulders. It’s so lovely and primitive the way touch and smell can become the thing that reunites and reacquaints us. You were like two animals in the wild and you’d gasped at the feel of his face gliding against yours, and his arms so tight around you until he'd pressed his forehead to yours whispering things you couldn’t understand as you held onto his forearms giving in to the thin line of tears that fell from your eyes. It was an unexpected moment of reconnecting. You knew you’d missed him, but this was so much more. You’d felt ready to submit to every command so quickly it honestly surprised you. The warm touch of his face against yours, his breath along your neck and finally his lips meeting your own was and will always be your first experience with what people describe as coming home. And then he’d pulled back, looked you in the eyes and simply said “Hello”

You couldn’t say anything back. You just watched him look past you and saw how his expression changed. You still can’t place it… “James.” The way he said his name. God it was so beautiful. You’d turned in Zemo’s arms and saw the look on Bucky’s face. There were tears in his eyes that you’re not sure he was even aware of.

“Zemo”

“How was the ride?” He’d asked politely.

“Fine.”

The tension was charged. There was unfinished business between them that they would need to work out on their own, but you hoped they could do it quickly.

And then Zemo raised his hand in offering. He had after all sent that text to two people.

Bucky hesitated for longer than he needed to, but when he did come forward and gripped the Baron in what he’d assumed would be no more than a handshake, Zemo smiled and pulled him in. He’d let go to hold Bucky by the back of his head for a moment gazing at his face. “I actually didn't expect you” He said sounding relieved.

Bucky gave in to his own feelings and reached out, gently grabbing Zemo’s waist. “Well Im here.”

“So you are.” He’d said, the pressure of such strong feelings for his soldier bubbling at the surface, desperate to be released. But he just stroked Bucky’s jaw with his thumb and smiled before looking down at you. “And now that you are, let me show you both around.”

Sitting up, you rub your eyes and find your clothes tossed all over the place mixed in with Zemo’s.

As he’d attempted to show you and Bucky the ship and explain your route, his hand would linger on the small of your back. He would find your curves as he talked about the endless amenities the yacht had to offer until neither of you were sure if he was talking about you or the boat. By the time you’d come down to the cabin deck, he’d pulled you close from behind as Bucky went on ahead unaware. Zemo grabbed your hips exhaling against your ear and you’re fairly certain it was the moan you let slip when he ever so gently pulled your hair, tilting your head to the side as he whispered something to you in Sokovian that got Bucky’s attention.

“James, please help yourself to anything at all. There are more comfortable clothes in the room here. If you’d like, Oeznik can help you find whatever you need. But— it has been a year since I’ve seen her.” He’d said his grip on your hair easing a bit as he stroked his fingers down your back. “As I’m sure you understand a year without a woman like this is a year too long.”

There was a tense few seconds between them and you worried you'd been wrong about the jealousy, but Bucky's face relaxed as he looked around Zemo towards the back of the yacht. “Was that a bottle of Longrow scotch I spotted in that other room?”

“Ah.” He seemed impressed with Bucky’s keen eye. “18 years." Zemo smiled.

“Perfect.” Bucky winked and slipped past giving your cheek a quick pinch.

After that you don’t even remember getting into the room. One second you’d been standing in the hall lost in a wash of furious kisses and the next he had you over his shoulder charging down the hall to the master bedroom practically kicking the door in.

He’d sat you down and you’d both gone wild pushing and pulling at your clothes only just breaking away from one another’s lips to actually undress with a few anxious smiles, some excited laughter tossed in until finally you were naked and then….

You hide your face behind your hand now remembering how good it felt, even though it’d been strange to have another man inside of you after so long.

There was no sign of your former lifestyle this time as he’d fucked you so perfectly. This time, desperate as he was, Helmut was gentle. He’d picked you up and held you between the wall and his own body, finding you easily, moaning into the space between you as he watched your face. He seemed so pleased to see you react to his attention as you once had, because yes, he was another man— he was the Baron and no one could ever take his place.

You’d ended up in the bed on your back nearly in tears from the feel of being under him after so long apart. Not until he’d felt you nearing your climax did he slip back into his natural state of dominance and only just enough to make the orgasm stronger as he’d closed his lovely fingers around your throat and looked into your eyes as you came and he’d whispered your name “I love you…"

Thank the stars that man is free, you smile wide now letting the lasting pleasure ripple through your body.

You look up and say it to yourself again letting the truth of him being here and you for that matter ground you. This day has been a whirlwind and until this moment you’ve been flung from one emotional state to the next. This is the first time you’ve been alone to process it and you are thankful, but the moment is short lived because Helmut’s escape was no small feat and you are not the only one ecstatic about his return.

Eyeing the closet across the room you feel a twinge of a different sort. Helmut is a planner, you’re certain there’s nothing but extraordinary outfits just waiting to be worn and you decide very easily that it’s time to get up and celebrate his freedom and address the very sexy, very annoying tension between the two men you love most in all the world before it consumes them both.

[bbangsoonie]

to see you again

member: younghoon genre: angst (royal au) word count: 3,720 synopsis: becoming younghoon’s queen entails more danger than comfort. knowing this, he doesn’t want to harbor any feelings for you because you could be used against him. but you’re willing to risk it all to be by his side. warning(s): violence, death

kingdom masterlist

As the daughter of a high-ranking nobleman, you grew up sheltered and with grace. You never knew a struggle in your life. You had loving parents, an abundance of wealth, and a dignified reputation.

When the king suddenly passed away, the crown prince quickly inherited the throne and the palace was in a frenzy to choose the new king’s consort. It didn’t come as a surprise when your father announced that you were among the candidates. You had visited the palace a few times as a child and knew that your father was heavily involved in royal affairs.

Your mother wasn’t happy with the news. She never liked you lingering around the palace and was now afraid of you becoming trapped in it.

You, on the other hand, were excited. You used to catch glimpses of him when he was still the crown prince. He held himself with elegance even at such a young age. He exuded an air of confidence both then and now.

You had memories of watching him study at a pavilion. His eyebrows would furrow in concentration as the subtle breeze teased the light pages of the book he was reading.

It wasn’t until the day that he joined you at the pond that your heart began to long for him. While you waited for your father to finish his business in the palace, you had wandered around in the garden and stumbled upon a pond. Finding the water lilies fascinating, you had inched closer to get a closer look. You were as clumsy as you were curious. Your foot had slipped and you panicked as you lost your balance.

As if it were fate, you felt someone catch you just before you fell into the water. You gaped at the pair of eyes that stared back at you. It was the crown prince but he was no longer an adorable child. He had grown into a magnificent adolescent and the sun shining behind him made it seem like he was glowing.

“Are you alright?” Younghoon had asked as he pulled you back on to flat ground.

It was in that moment that you dared to develop feelings for the crown prince. You knew it was wrong. It was out of line for you to see him as a man. You knew it would only lead to heartbreak. The odds of a happy ending were close to none.

But now, you were given a chance to make that long-time wish come true. And you were determined to grab the opportunity to take the seat next to him. Even if that meant putting your own mother through heartache.

Your father, however, was pleased at your enthusiasm. With his full support, you were chosen as the new queen-to-be.

When the day for you to enter the royal palace arrived, you were filled with anticipation and restlessness. You bid your parents one final goodbye before you stepped into the palanquin sent for you. Your mother was holding back tears as your father proudly watched you get escorted away.

Your first official meeting with the king was not what you had imagined it to be like. He was cold and kept both a physical and emotional distance. He was not who you remembered him to be.

Nonetheless, you settled down in your quarters and abided by the numerous preparations. The wedding ceremony was still a month away; a date had been specially chosen to ensure a healthy marriage. This meant that you had a month to get adjusted to your new home before you were expected to fulfill your duties.

On your first night, your body refused to fall asleep. You tossed and turned until you eventually gave up and decided to take a stroll. Quietly slipping away from the servants, you snuck into the garden you had loved as a child.

The flowers were even more beautiful under the moonlight. You were in awe as you observed the majestic trees towering high above you. Your feet led you to the pond where you believed your destiny was made. A small smile ghosted your lips as you gazed at your reflection in the water. The water lilies were still floating around.

“Will you fall in today as well?” a voice spoke from behind you. Startled, you turned around and were shocked to see Younghoon in front of you.

“Y-Your Majesty,” you bowed. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you wondered if he could hear it.

“What are you doing out here alone at such a late hour?” he questioned.

“Perhaps I was feeling nervous but I could not fall asleep,” you shyly replied. “So I wanted to explore the part of the palace I used to frequent. The familiarity calms me.”

He nodded as he took a step away from you. Disappointed, you forced yourself to maintain a smile.

“You should go in soon. The night air is still quite chilly,” he said before leaving. Though it was for a split second, you recognized the concern in his voice. You also caught the softened look in his eyes before he completely turned away from you.

At the glimmer of hope, you made it your mission to melt his icy heart. You began to visit his study room every afternoon with a refreshing drink to provide a break from his work. Unable to turn you away in front of the servants, he relented when you asked if you could stay and keep him company.

Younghoon read through piles of books while you painted everything from orchids to portraits. You occasionally stole glances, hoping to catch him doing the same. To your disappointment, he never spared you a single look.

It wasn’t until a week later that you finally felt him warm up to you. But that warmth was fiery.

He had just left the council meeting and was extremely frustrated. The ministers expected him to be nothing but a puppet who turns a blind eye to all of their immoral deeds.

He was determined to be different from his father, the previous king. He was resolute on fixing the rotten Joseon from inside out.

He angrily stormed into the library, causing you to jump in surprise. Not expecting to see you there, he blinked as you dropped the book in your hands. Apologizing, he retrieved the book from the floor and handed it to you.

After shooing his eunuch away, he awkwardly stood alone in the room with you. Not knowing what to say, he looked back on a particular memory he shared with you.

“You once told me that I would make a great king,” Younghoon blurted. “Why? What made you so confident about that?”

Stunned at his sudden question, you tried to recall what incident he was referring to. Once you remembered, you softly smiled.

“I have no doubt that you will be remembered as a wise and just king. Even as a young prince, you strove to exceed expectations. You always had your nose in a book but you also looked around to take note of the people near you. You dared to second guess the practices that you believed to be outdated and were always concerned with the citizens’ wellbeing,” you said. “If that does not make a great king, then I do not know what does.”

You felt both tension and comfort between you and Younghoon. He remained silent after hearing your words and you wondered if you had overstepped any boundaries.

“Thank you,” he finally spoke. “Thank you for placing your trust in my abilities.”

By the next week, you had grown quite close to the king. On a sunny day, he took you out to the lake for a boat ride to create a private setting for you two. Oblivious to his intentions, you were merely giddy at the thought of spending time alone with him.

“Y/n, I am afraid that I cannot offer you my heart,” he confessed once you were out of earshot from any servants.

You felt a pang of pain strike your chest as you tried your best to seem unfazed.

“May I ask for the reason why?” you quietly asked.

“Any feelings I develop for you will be used against me. It will only put you in harm’s way,” he grimaced. “I have plans, Y/n. Dangerous plans. I do not wish for you to get caught in the crossfire. So please do not devote yourself to me. I cannot afford another weakness.”

Smiling through the heartache, you simply hummed in response. After some thought, you broke the silence.

“My only wish in this palace is to be of strength and comfort to you. It does not matter if you do not embrace me as a woman. Just as I wield no power over your feelings, I request that you respect mine.”

And so, you continued to show your affection for Younghoon. You stopped by for your daily tea time together and stayed with him as he read through official grievances.

He eventually got used to your presence and even found himself missing you when you did not visit as usual.

Due to a meeting with the queen dowager, you were unable to make it to his study room. The room felt empty without you painting next to him and he kept getting distracted by your absence.

Sighing, he finally gave up and stared at the pile of unread scrolls. He decided to take a short break by stopping by the pond and getting some fresh air.

The afternoon breeze was still quite chilly for a May day. The sun hung low from the sky, signaling that evening was soon arriving. Younghoon allowed himself to clear his mind as he admired the view.

His position burdened him with many responsibilities. The regal title he inherited was still nothing but a title. His power was minimized by the greedy ministers who took advantage of his young age and inexperience.

Instead of living a comfortable life by just letting them do what they wanted, Younghoon was set on punishing their corruption. The ridiculous taxes they imposed and the money they made from smuggling goods were destroying the kingdom. It was oppressing the people.

With Chanhee, his best friend and right-hand man, he was planning on making changes that would leave a lasting impact in Korean history.

His train of thought was interrupted by your soft voice calling out to him.

“Your Majesty? What are you so deeply thinking about?” you asked.

He blankly observed your curious face for a moment. Those doe-like eyes enchanted him both back then and now.

As the crown prince, he used to study outside, no matter how hot or cold it was. All with the hope of seeing you again if you visited the palace.

That day at the pond where he saved you from falling in was etched in his memory as it was in yours. Normally, he would stay in the pavilion and steal glimpses of you while pretending to be engrossed in his book. But when he saw you walk away, he couldn’t help but follow after you.

It was the first time he ever saw you up close. His heart raced faster than it ever did his whole life.

But when he was reunited with you as an adult, he was torn. A part of him was elated to be with you. A part of him was also terrified of what your new position now entailed. You could easily become a target in the midst of a political fight and he couldn’t bear to watch it happen.

So he put up a cold front. He built a wall between you two so that others would not perceive your relationship as close. Because the moment people realized that you were the one who held his heart, his enemies would eagerly take it for themselves to ruin.

“Your Majesty?” you repeated.

“You do know that the position of a queen holds no power, right? It is merely a way to birth a royal prince,” Younghoon warned.

“It is not power that I desire,” you stated.

“Then what makes you so bold to covet the position?”

“Love.”

“Lady Y/n- I mean, Your Highness!” your maid, Arin, yelled in a whispered hush while chasing after you.

You had escaped from your quarters in the middle of the night and didn’t expect to get caught so soon. Your maid’s voice had alarmed Court Lady Kang, who was now also running.

Accepting the fact that you could not flee from them, you came to a stop with a huff. They quickly arrived by your side and you pouted.

“I just wanted to go out for a stroll,” you explained.

“Please take us with you, Your Highness,” they bowed. Unable to stop them from following you, you let out a sigh and nodded.

At the same time, Younghoon also snuck away from his chamber to secretly meet Chanhee. There weren’t many opportunities for them to talk without suspicious eyes and prying ears. The only time they could discuss important matters was during the night.

Once they finally convened in their private space, Chanhee expressed his worries to the king.

“I think the ministers caught a whiff of our searches,” Chanhee frowned. “Word has spread in the village that there is someone willing to pay for any dirt on them.”

“Has there been any action on their side?” Younghoon asked, biting his lip. It was a nervous habit of his.

“There is nothing to report as of now but…”

“But what?”

“But I think they have been surveilling the queen.”

“Already? Based on what grounds?”

“Perhaps as a precaution.”

Younghoon didn’t like the ominous feeling. Just one small slip-up could lead to catastrophic consequences.

Suddenly, he heard approaching voices and brought his finger to his lips to signal for Chanhee to be quiet. Anxiously, he tried to figure out who was nearby.

“Your Highness, you really should not be out here this late,” Court Lady Kang advised in a pleading tone.

“Just a few more minutes,” you promised. “I like how peaceful it is at night.”

Subconsciously, a smile crept up on Younghoon’s lips, confusing Chanhee. He hadn’t seemed genuinely happy in years so it was pleasantly surprising to see him like this. As the king’s closest friend, Chanhee’s heart warmed at the sight.

As the weeks passed, you could feel the distance between you and Younghoon disappear. He was no longer aloof and even took you to the secret forest garden in Changdeokgung. It was the king’s private space and no one was allowed to enter without his permission. Only royal family members and the king’s special guests were to step foot inside.

With only a week left until the wedding, things were beginning to feel real. You were put on a crash course of royal etiquette and juggling memorizations of various customs.

The trip to Changdeokgung was a much-needed break from all the court ladies chasing after you with another tradition to learn. Younghoon could sense your stress and wanted to relieve some of it.

That was how you ended up sitting in comfortable silence by the Ongnyucheon ("Jade Stream"). The sounds of nature filled the background noise as you admired the view.

“Is there a particular reason why you love to paint orchids?” Younghoon asked.

“I like the meaning behind it,” you hummed. “Integrity. It is fitting for a place such as the palace.”

“I am doubtful of the level of integrity within these walls,” he sighed.

“But you are working towards a better Joseon. A Joseon that proudly stands with a king who rules with the people in mind,” you beamed.

He turned to look at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. Despite the birds chirping and the stream of water, you could only hear your own heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Meanwhile, it was taking Younghoon every ounce of self control to not lean in and kiss you right then and there. Other than Chanhee, you were the only person to wholeheartedly believe in him. To root for him. To truly care for him.

Younghoon wasn’t supposed to overhear the ministers’ conversation. He wasn’t supposed to find out what they intended to do with you.

“Once an heir is safely delivered, we can depose the queen,” he heard one say.

Then he remembered, he wasn’t supposed to fall for you. He wasn’t supposed to let you in. He wasn’t supposed to have his feelings exposed.

In a panic, he ran to the pond, hoping to find you there. A wave of complicated feelings flooded him as he rushed to grab your hand. Slightly startled, you stared at him with wide eyes.

“Run away. Please. As far as possible. As quickly as possible,” he begged. “You must leave the palace immediately for your own safety.”

You tried to calm him down and convinced him to slow down and explain his sudden outburst. Younghoon confessed to what he heard and the fears he had since the wedding announcement.

His distress didn’t frighten you as much as you thought it would. On the contrary, it made your heart skip a beat. You could finally see how much he loved you.

“I will take my place as your queen, even if it costs me my life,” you affirmed. “As I was born a woman, I have lived my entire life conceding and yielding everything to my brother. This is the one thing I would like to fight for. I hate being apart from you more than dying. As long as I can remain by your side, even if I have to die, I will die smiling.”

“Y/n…”

You assured him that you would stay wary and that you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

There wasn’t much you could do anyway even if you wanted to run. You couldn’t dare to run away from a royal marriage. Not without risking your life, as well as your family’s.

So the wedding went on as planned. It concluded with your first night with Younghoon. That fateful night where the stars aligned and blessed you with the kingdom’s new crown prince. Or perhaps cursed.

When it was discovered that you were of child, drums announced the happy occasion and word quickly spread both inside and outside of the palace. The entire kingdom celebrated the news but you couldn’t be just glad. A war of nerves had begun within the walls.

However, Younghoon did his best to ease your worries. He spent almost every second of every day with you. If he wasn’t dealing with official matters, he was fretting over you and your needs.

He fussed over the amount of nutrients you ate, how comfortable your pillow and blankets were, your mood, and prenatal care. He doted on you with such gentle care.

“Have you thought of a name for the prince?” you asked as he held a spoon of rice in front of you. You opened your mouth and ate, waiting for his answer.

“I have a few in mind. But I haven’t found one that I really like yet,” he smiled. “Nothing that seems fitting for the future king.”

“What if it turns out to be a princess instead?”

“The royal physician has never been wrong in his predictions. Besides, I have a strong intuition as well.”

Both the royal physician and Younghoon turned out to be correct. After excruciating hours of labor, the pain came to an end with the cries of the kingdom’s new crown prince.

When Younghoon finally held the baby in his arms, his breath got caught in his throat. He was tiny and wrinkly but he was his son.

“I promise to keep you safe,” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Do you have a name for him yet?” you asked.

Younghoon stared at the small hand wrapped around his finger. All previous hesitance came crumbling down as he confidently shared the name that he had been thinking of for months.

“Sunwoo. Kim Sunwoo.”

The bliss of your new family was short-lived. Since Younghoon’s confession, you had always feared that the birth of the prince would also become your deathbed. You had been silently prepared for the worst so it wasn’t a complete surprise when the palace turned upside down just days later.

But what you hadn’t expected was the chaos to head towards the king’s residence, rather than yours. Ignoring Court Lady Kang and Arin’s pleas, you ran straight towards the sounds of clashing swords.

You were exactly a minute too late to try to prevent what was probably the inevitable anyway. You felt your world come crashing down as you saw Younghoon limply leaning against a wall.

“What are you doing here? Take the prince and run. Far away,” he barely managed to choke out the words as you held his bloodied head in your hands.

“Why do you always tell me to run away but never promise to come with me?” you cried.

“I am sorry I could not protect you until the end,” he apologized. “Perhaps fate will allow us to meet again in our next lives. I hope that we will be able to be happily together then.”

“No, stay with me in this life. I do not wish for anything more.”

“I am afraid it is already too late, my queen.”

“You can not leave me alone like this! How can I survive in the palace without you? How can I raise the prince all by myself?”

Hurried footsteps approached as the warmth in his body slowly started to fade. You clung onto him, begging him to hold on. He exchanged glances with Court Lady Kang whose gentle but urgent tug on your sleeve began to pull you away.

You knew you had to go but you couldn’t bear to leave him all alone. Not like this.

“Court Lady Kang, I trust that you will take care of both the queen and prince,” Younghoon weakly smiled before taking his last breath.

You weeped as his hand fell from yours. You gave in to Court Lady Kang’s urging as she guided you to safety. You spared one last glimpse of the king before turning away with tears streaming down your face.

a/n: how did creker know i had a king!younghoon au in my drafts 😔🤚🏻

tag list: @dearseungie @cuppasunu​ @reverienostalgia​ @parfaitz​ @lovelyutas @leejaeyeons @geniejunn

ps there will probably be a sequel

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (4) || atz

You’re sitting at a tiny cove.

Your legs swing along the rocky ledge of the cliff you are on, dangling into the water. Beneath you, the water sparkles like liquid emeralds. Bright, colorful fish dart here and there around your feet and you laugh.

You leap down and there’s a splash, you’re waist deep in water. You move forward and forward until you’ve reached the mouth of the cove and the water comes up to your chin.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and submerge yourself.

Something soft and gentle brushes its way along your arms and you giggle underwater, bubbles escaping your mouth, but it’s of no concern to you. The soft arms caress you gently, as if you’re a precious treasure to them. You open your eyes.

Something stares back at you, glowing the colour of blood. It’s massive, almost twice your size, radiating some sort of curious light in the middle of the dark mass it’s in. Then it hits you.

It’s a single, unblinking eye.

You jerk awake with cold sweat running down your back and immediately regret it as you feel your head split in half from a sharp throbbing in your head. You groan, keeping your eyes tightly shut as you cradle your head in your hands, waiting for the pain to subside.

Something tugs lightly at your shoulder. No, not rope. Cloth? You start to panic when you realize that you are no longer tied to the mast.

Are they intending to kill you now?

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Your eyes fly open and you immediately shy away from the voice, pressing against the wall next to you. Your legs instinctively curl up to your body and you let out a cry of pain as your ankle knocks into wood.

“Don’t move, idiot.”

You look up to see the man talking to you. He’s tall and lightly built, dressed in a simple, oversized tunic and knee length shorts. Around his neck are a few silver chains, with strange symbols you don’t recognise, and his hair is a soft grey-green. Everything about him throws you off, he feels soft and reserved, nothing like a pirate.

Then you see the short dagger strapped to his left thigh.

You press against the wall more tightly, turning your face away from him. If he’s going to kill you, it might be more bearable if you can’t see it coming. You feel the tiny rocking of ocean waves.

“My name is Choi San, but you can just call me San.” The man begins to introduce himself, seating himself in a chair opposite you. You’re in a bed, you realize, as he continues to speak. “I’m the healer on board the Treasure, so I was responsible for treating your wounds. It’s admirable how you managed to keep quiet about a badly twisted ankle, an infected musket wound and a raging fever all at once.” There's something unsaid left in his voice.

You swallow.

“Especially for a woman.”

You freeze, all movement ceasing in a single second. Your hands unconsciously move up to your chest, only to find it unbound underneath a couple of layers of fabric.

Oh shit.

You’re definitely going to be shark food now.

“I haven’t told Hongjoong yet, if that’s what you were wondering.”

Your head whips around to stare at him in shock. His expression hasn’t changed the least, he still wears the same unreadable, blank face and you can’t tell whether he’s joking or he’s being serious. He has no reason not to report to the captain his findings, so why?

“It’s not my business that Hongjoong-ie is so blind he can’t tell the difference.” The healer leans back in a sturdy wooden chair, steepling his fingers with a calm gaze. You can’t tell whether that is comforting or terrifying. “Besides, I have a cat’s nature and I find my curiosity difficult to satisfy. So, if your story entertains me enough, I may keep your little secret from the captain. But I can see that you’re bursting to ask questions, so ask away.”

“Who undressed me?” Are the first words that tumble from your mouth. San chuckles at your question.

“Me.”

You groan in embarrassment and hide your face in your hands, unable to face him anymore. He snickers in amusement, and even though you can’t see it, his smile dimples his cheeks.

“No need to feel shy.” The man remarks, even though you can hear the mirth lingering in his voice. “I didn’t look. I just changed your bandages daily for the last two days.”

“I’ve been asleep for two days? That doesn’t make it any better.” Your words are muffled behind your fingers and you know your cheeks are tinged pink. “It’s still embarrassing.”

“I had to check you over for injuries.” San explains logically as you peer at him between the cracks in your fingers. “Who knows what else you might be hiding? I cleaned your wounds with salt water solution and bandaged you. As for your ankle, I splinted it with driftwood but don’t expect to walk normally for the next five to ten days or so.”

You gulp. Five days is more than you can afford.

“Is the captain going to throw me overboard?”

“As if I’d let him.” San’s complete indifference to Hongjoong’s authority surprises you, but you suppose even the captain needs to be on a healer’s good side in case he ever gets injured. This explains the sizable room and bed for the healer. Still, the informal way he addresses his captain is a little shocking. “He’s not going to waste all that effort I put into treating you. I used the last of my marigold petal antiseptic on your arm and he’d better get me more at Tortuga.”

You manage to stifle the tiny giggle that leaves your mouth, but San hears it anyways. He smiles slightly. “So, what’s your name?”

You pause, then answer as truthfully as possible.

“I don’t remember.”

To your surprise, San doesn’t try to call you a liar or force you to tell him some other answer. Instead he ponders your words carefully.

“That’s a common symptom among those who have head injuries. I was just telling Yeosang about them a few days ago.” You don’t know who Yeosang is, but you nod in understanding. You’re a little relieved that he seems to believe you, but is this a ploy to make you lower your guard? “They’re short term, but the memories usually come back after a few days or weeks. I don’t think I’ve met many who’ve forgotten their own identities though. Those usually die a few days after.”

“What?” You choke and suddenly you start coughing, your throat dry and scratchy. San reaches for a mug you hadn’t noticed before on his desk and passes it to you, filled with a fragrant green tinted liquid you don’t recognize. You can’t hide your suspicious look.

“It’s jasmine green tea.” San explains as he sits down again. “It’s helps calm the nerves and is also a fantastic cleaning solution for wounds as it prevents infection, but I prefer drinking it. My shipmates would rather ingest grog.” He sniffs in distaste and shakes his head. “Hongjoong knows what’s good for him, though. We’ve stayed in the cove for a couple days more because some of the scouting parties found tea leaves growing on one of the hills nearby. The rest are hunting deer with Shiber so we can have fresh venison tonight. It makes a nice change from eating preserved food all the time.”

As he continues to ramble about how some of the crew have started setting out nets to catch some fresh fish, you take a sip of the tea. It’s a little bitter with a warm, grassy flavor. You don’t enjoy it very much, but the next available option, grog, sounds even more unpalatable, so you choose to down the whole mug.

San pauses in his talking to nod his approval. “You’re a smart one. Anyway, as I was saying, the men usually die soon, but that’s because of internal bleeding in the skull. I found blood clots when I cut their heads open.”

You almost spit out the tea. “You cut their what open?”

The healer shrugs. “They’re already dead, so they don’t feel a thing.” When you continue to give him dubious, horrified looks, he starts to explain. “It’s for medical research! What I’m trying to say is, they don’t die because they lose their memories, they die because of the wound that caused them to lose their memories. From what I can see, you don’t have any such wound.”

“That’s reassuring.” You manage to say, thumping your chest. San nods.

“Captain said you claimed to have woken up in a prison cell in Raguza, am I correct?” He asks and you nod. San seems like a kind person and is the only one who is willing to help you. Then you pause.

“Raguza?” You repeat, unfamiliar with the name. San dismisses it with a wave.

“The town we raided a few days ago.” He explains, before carrying on. “He also said that you claimed to have no memory of how you came to be wearing the coat of a Royal Navy officer.”

You nod hesitantly. Even you’re aware of how unbelievable your story sounds. But San seems to be taking all of this in stride, better than you are, at least.

“Well, you could either be a skilled liar, insane, or telling the truth.”

You open your mouth to protest that nothing that has come out of your mouth has been a lie so far, but he holds up a hand to stop you. Your mouth closes with an audible clop.

“If you are a liar and are simply a spy of the Royal Navy here to steal the navigational maps, you must be a terrible one to present such a ridiculous story.” You try to protest again, but he continues. “From what I gather of my conversation with you, you are too sound of mind to be mad. So that only leaves me with one option. You are telling the truth.”

Just like that?

Something in you breaks down in relief and your shoulders sag. You’ve known that the whole time, that you’ve been telling the truth, that you have no memories. But suddenly, you’re not alone. Now, somebody believes you.

Someone understands.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until San reaches forward to brush the tears from your eyes. His fingers are gentle and warm, like Seonghwa’s hands. Then you start.

“Did Seonghwa bring me here? Where are we?” You look around the room you are in. You’re sitting on one of the two small beds in the cramped cabin, the shelves along the walls overflowing with written text, books and boxes with messily scribbled labels. There’s a small wooden table in the middle, a stack of paper in danger of falling off the side, and several stalks of dried plants on its surface. Opposite you is a wooden door.

“We’re in my cabin. You’re currently in Seonghwa’s bed. He offered to bed down with the rest of the crew until you recover.” San hesitates. “As for who brought you here… he asked not to be mentioned. It wasn’t Seonghwa.”

A frown tugs at your lips. Besides the kindly cook, who else would take any sympathy on you to come drag you here in the middle of a rainstorm? San shakes his head and gets to his feet.

“Don’t think too much about it.” Before you can protest, he moves over to the table and retrieves a small wooden box, opening its clasp. “Anyway, I was intending on returning this to you once you woke up.”

A thin, silver chain dangles from his fingers, at the end of which is a tiny, clear cut crystal. Small, delicately wrought silver leaves hold the crystal in place, and your mouth falls open in awe as San presses it into your hand. A kaleidoscope of reflected colors fall on your palm.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathe, lifting your hand to inspect the gem. San’s head cocks to the side in confusion.

“That is not the response I was hoping for, considering that I took it from your neck when I was undressing you.” He frowns, and your eyes widen in surprise.

“From me? As in, it was around my neck the whole time and I didn’t notice it?” You babble and San nods. He taps the largest silver leaf with a finger.

“Look at this carefully.”

There’s an inscription in the lid, beneath a carving of an elaborate swirl. You squint to make out the minuscule words.

I will be with you every step of the way.

You pause in shock at the revelation.

From before you lost your memories, from before you came to be in that tiny prison cell, you were not alone. If you just find the person who gave you this, you’ll know who you were before.

“You should keep it with you.” Gently, San takes the necklace from your hands and clasps it behind your neck. You’re silent in wonder, fingering the tiny crystal that nestles in the center of your chest. “Now, I should really go check on Wooyoung’s arm before he starts whining again.” He rises to his feet. “Do you have any last questions?”

“Is the captain really not going to throw me overboard?” You manage, gripping the tiny crystal in hand. At this, San really laughs.

“No. Although he did burn the Royal Navy coat you were wearing and tossed the ashes into the sea.” The healer replies as he plucks a small jar of ointment from a shelf. “If you give him no reason to kill you, he won’t.”

“Being alive seems to be reason enough to him.” You mutter unhappily under your breath, tucking yourself under the covers once more. Your eyelids are getting heavy once again. “The captain really hates the Royal Navy, doesn’t he? Why?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see San shrug as he pulls a leather sling bag over his shoulder. “He has good reason to, but it’s not my story to tell.”

Then he crosses over to you and tucks the blankets a little more securely around you. His grey eyes are soft.

“Go to sleep. I’ll come back and tend to you later.” San’s voice is gentle and melodic, like a lullaby.

You close your eyes, still clasping the small crystal in your hand. “Okay.” You murmur in reply, pulling the blanket closer around you. “Just for a while more, then.”

You don’t wake up till a day later.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Return Home Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The date begins in a conference room, where a meeting has been going on for almost three hours

When LFG invested in an online video platform called SE, LFG held a press release stating that it was a strategic move for the international film and TV market

However, just within two years, SE found itself racking up billions of dollars in debt due to its poor project management

As such, people in the know have been secretly ridiculing Victor for making an error of judgement

Fortunately, LFG’s connections with the media prevented this information from leaking out

But it doesn’t change the fact that LFG messed up this time

Victor hasn’t slept in two days - he’s been poring through documents, project materials, and would sometimes sit in the conference room alone for several hours, forgetting to eat :

When Victor returns to the hotel, there are over a hundred unread notifications on his phone. 

He doesn’t pay attention to such information, but taps on the only pinned message amid the countless lists of prompts.

Unsurprisingly, it’s filled with insignificant idle talk, coupled with several different emoticons.

Victor loosens his tie slightly, reading through the messages from top to bottom. 

“I made an improved version of omurice. Want to try it?”

“What is Goldman talking about in his Moments - something about being angry and tired. Is the meeting not going smoothly?”

“Remember to eat...”

“And remember to sleep!”

Victor’s finger pauses at this line, and there’s a gentle emotion flowing in his eyes.

“The internet celebrity lawyer you mentioned the other time agreed to my invitation for an interview, so I’ll be rushing out the proposal this Saturday. Want to be a supervisor?”

Victor opens the dialog box. Once he sends an “ok”, the other party immediately responds with an emoticon of a winking cat. 

Thinking of the time right now, he arches his brows slightly. 

-

Nestled in my quilt, I’m just about to embark on a long speech regarding the weekend’s schedule, but the phone in my hand suddenly vibrates, surprising me. 

Victor: Did you not sleep, or did you wake up?

MC: Haha...

Victor: What are you laughing at? 

MC: It feels like that is something I often ask you. Why is it now your turn to ask me?

Victor: It’s only 5am now. 

MC: I didn’t get a reply from you, so I couldn’t sleep...

I turn over, changing to a more comfortable position against the corner of the quilt. I press the phone tightly to my ear. 

MC: What project are you busy with this time? Is it going smoothly? 

Victor: Smoothly. It’s still early, you can sleep for a while longer.

MC: ...I can’t really sleep now. Are you still coming back on Thursday as you said last time? 

Victor: Before Saturday. 

MC: It’s only Tuesday today... and the sun hasn’t come out yet. 

I hear Victor laugh, his low tone mixed with some tiredness.

Victor: You find it too late? 

MC: I wouldn’t dare to. If it weren’t something important, you wouldn’t delay returning. However... even if it’s because of work, you did go back on your word, so you have to promise me one thing. 

A deep and slow sigh enters my ear, revealing a faint sense of fatigue.

Victor: You can say it. 

MC: You have to eat, and you have to sleep.

The other end of the phone call grows silent for a few seconds. 

Victor: Mm, I promise you.

The misty morning light is on the curtains. In the midst of my quiet grogginess, I close my eyes, wanting to feel the frequency of his breaths. 

MC: ...it has been raining continuously in Paris these two days. 

Victor: It’s like that during this season. 

MC: Is... is it very cold...

Victor: No, it isn’t. 

My consciousness grows increasingly darker, but I can still clearly capture his voice in my bizarre dream world. 

Victor: [in the gentlest of gentle voices] Sleep if you’re tired. I’m hanging up. 

MC: N-not tired... don’t hang up...

Victor: You can’t even speak clearly, and you’re still unwilling to sleep?

MC: ...

I just need five more seconds to be clear-headed--

I let out a sound of agreement, unsure if I managed to say this aloud.

Very soon, only Victor’s long and steady breaths at my ear remain in my world. It’s very, very close. It’s a closeness that gives one a peace of mind. 

Victor: Are you asleep?

MC: ...

Victor: Sleep then.

Victor: ...

Victor: Sleep peacefully. 

-

On Saturday afternoon, I lift my head towards the wall clock for the nth time. When the needle points to the number ‘3′, I can no longer help myself, and give Victor a call. 

After the dial tone, the notification that the other party is unable to answer the call sounds. Before I can react, the doorbell rings. 

Victor is standing at the door and just about to put his phone back into his pocket. In a daze, I look towards at his empty hands. 

MC: Your luggage...

Victor: Goldman took them back. I still have to return to LFG tonight. 

As he speaks, he enters and changes his shoes in the hallway. After that, he walks straight into my bedroom.

Victor: What have you been doing these two days? 

He walks to the coffee table, picking up the messy outline I was working on for an interview. He takes a glance and then lifts the corners of his lips. 

Victor: You said you were working seriously for several days, but you just did a few outlines? 

MC: Don’t underestimate me! I’ve looked through quite a number of materials. Look!

I point at the stack of trending societal topics and legal-related books on the floor. 

MC: Preparatory work speeds up the actual process. Also, didn’t I recognise my inadequacies and ask you to be a supervisor? 

I hurriedly drag a chair to the coffee table and place a headrest on the back of it. 

MC: Please sit. I guarantee that from this second onwards, I’ll concentrate on the proposal. Before the sun sets, I’ll definitely have the first edition out. 

Victor can’t help but laugh. He hangs his coat on the clothes rack in the corner, then pulls the chair over to himself. After sitting down, he seems to recall something and lets out a faint sigh. 

Victor: Lend me your laptop for a while.

I hand him my notebook computer, and a thought flashes across my mind -- how could he not have brought a laptop out?

MC: Victor, when did you get infected by my scatterbrained habits? 

Victor: Only this time. I forgot to take it with me after leaving it in the backseat.

Victor avoids my teasing gaze. With his expression unchanged, he starts approving documents on the LFG intranet. 

Victor: The sun is setting in two hours. 

MC: Who knows - maybe the sun wouldn’t feel like going home today. 

I return to my seat, resting my chin on my palm while looking towards Victor. 

The light golden sunlight streams in from the window, slowly enveloping Victor. The quiet, warm rays of light are coupled with a calming woody scent, and are very pleasant. 

Victor doesn’t speak. His fingers tap against the desk from time to time. In this quiet room, the sound of our breathing is amplified.

After an inordinate amount of time, he finally lifts his eyes and meets mine.

Victor: Staring at me can help you finish your proposal?

MC: I’m not staring at you. I’m silently conceptualising ideas.

After my words are out, a short “ding” sounds.

MC: Wait for a moment~ 

In a flash, I rush to the kitchen and retrieve the aromatic cookies from the oven. After carefully placing them on a cooling rack, I bring it back to the room along with two cups of warm drinks. 

MC: Afternoon tea time!

Victor casts a glance at the cups and arches his brows slightly. Steam floats from the hot cup of milk, and strands of warmth merge with the sweetness in the house.

MC: Your dark circles are so deep, so don’t drink coffee, all right?  

Victor: I’m fine. 

I thought Victor meant that he wouldn’t drink this, but he holds up the cup after speaking. 

Once I sit down, I push the plate filled with cookies towards him. 

MC: Look at my new mold - isn’t it cute?

I point at the cookies, which are shaped like cats with different expressions on them. 

MC: This one is yawning, this one is full of grievances, this one has already fallen asleep, but I like this one the most. It keeps having an angry face. I called it “Qi Gu Gu”.

[Note: Names don’t translate well into English, so I left it as it is. The original name is 气鼓鼓, which means “seething”]

Victor’s eyes sweep towards my fingers. 

Victor: Looks like you. 

MC: Is that so?

I puff my cheeks, mimicking the cat on the cookie and squinting my eyes to look at Victor. 

As predicted, Victor ignores me. There is a measure of speechlessness in his eyes.

I laugh and bring “Qi Gu Gu” to his lips. 

MC: Give it a try? 

Victor takes a bite straight from my hand, then returns his gaze to the laptop. 

MC: Aren’t you going to evaluate it? 

He purses his lips slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s smiling or not. He leans forward a little, then finishes the remaining half of “Qi Gu Gu” in my hand. 

His warm lips brush against my fingertips, leaving behind a soft, lingering warmth. A fluffy, light, and sweet sense of happiness stirs up slowly in my heart. 

Contented, I sweep the crumbs off my hands and take up my pen again. 

Soon after, MC’s mind starts wandering to how fine the weather is

And how fine her man is 👀

He doesn’t show much emotion while working, and his expression looks as calm as always. But the deep look of concentration between his eyebrows is a little different from usual.

As for what exactly is different...

It’s probably how one just can’t look away.

Victor: It’s only been a few minutes. How many times have you lost focus? 

I hurriedly retract my gaze, pretending to be scribbling on the paper like an “obedient” student who got caught doing something improper by a teacher.

But my ideas have not been completely formulated, and I can’t think of anything to write. The only thing I can do is draw a small heart at the top right-hand corner of the paper. 

Sensing Victor’s lingering gaze on me, I continue scribbling until it becomes a solid heart, then attach a tilde at the end.

After pausing for a moment, I let out a soft sigh and lift my head slightly. 

Victor: Why are you sighing.

MC: ...I can’t help it.

Victor: Can’t help what? 

MC: Can’t help looking at you. 

I cross my arms together, changing to a more comfortable position and plopping onto the table. I tilt my head towards Victor. 

He lets out a barely audible laugh. Just as he’s about to speak, a familiar ringtone sounds from his pocket. 

Watching Victor pick up the call, my messy thoughts instantly vanish, and I feel slightly downcast.

Victor: The time now is...

While speaking, Victor looks at the bottom right corner of the laptop. After a slight pause, he looks at the phone. 

Victor: 4.30pm. Have them give me a reply by 8pm. 

His words are concise. After he hangs up, I ask him a little hesitantly. 

MC: Do you... have to go back to LFG now? 

Victor: I'm not leaving. 

While saying this, he sets his phone on silent mode and places it at the corner of the table. Meeting my hesitant gaze, there’s a sense of resignation in his calm eyes.

Victor: Your laptop is set to Paris’ timezone. 

I fail to understand the implication behind his words, so I just nod subconsciously. 

MC: Mm, it’s easier to tell the time like that. 

Victor doesn’t speak. He sweeps another glance at the laptop. At this moment, the system sends a report of the weather forecast in Paris over the next five days - there will be continuous rain every day.

He smiles faintly, then closes the laptop slowly.

Victor: ...you’re really becoming more and more dumb.

MC: ...yes yes yes, taking care of a dummy like me is really a bother for Mr CEO. 

I deliberately pout, but can’t help but smile along with Victor. I stand up and retrieve our two empty cups.

MC: I'll go wash the cups. Is there anything you want to eat?

Victor: No need. Are you treating me as you? 

I let out an indignant “hmph”, then turn around and head to the kitchen. 

I originally thought it would only take a few minutes to wash the two cups. But by the time I cleaned and tidied up the tools I used for baking earlier, half an hour has passed. 

When I return to the room, Victor is lying on the bed, my incomplete outline in his hand.

I soften my footsteps and walk over, leaning close to his ear and whispering:

MC: Victor, are you asleep? 

Victor doesn’t respond, but has a shallow intake of breath, his eyelashes quivering gently under the twilight. 

MC: Are you really sleeping or just pretending to sleep? 

Very lightly, I climb onto the bed, inching towards him.

MC: Victor? 

I call his name again softly, but he still does not respond. But the corners of his lips curl up slowly, revealing a smile.  

MC: You aren’t asleep, are you.

I lean one hand on the bed, and use my other hand to lift up a few strands of his hair. 

Looking at his smooth and sharp jawline, my fingertips unconsciously rub the tips of his hair. 

MC: ...have you been very tired recently?

Victor: No.

His words carry with them a certain sleepiness - perhaps he hasn’t had rest in a few days, so he gets drowsy once he relaxes just a little. 

MC: Didn’t you already look at my interview outline? Why are you looking at it again? 

Victor: To see what exactly you were scribbling. 

I think about that heart with its little tail, and am left speechless, as though I got caught having a bad idea. 

Victor: You specially got me here to supervise you, but you only wrote these few sentences the whole afternoon? 

MC: Yeah. Next time, I won’t ask you to be a supervisor! When you’re in front of me, my work efficiency takes a nose-dive. 

I reach out to take my notebook from his hand, then cover him with a blanket. Victor turns his head, his half-closed eyes meeting mine. 

It’s very rare for me to see such a burnt-out look in his eyes. Right now, I can only feel the emotions in my heart towards this person becoming a hundred times more tender. 

MC: Sleep for a while before going to LFG? I’ll wake you up at 7.30pm.

With the rigour of Victor’s schedule, several important meetings were cancelled at short notice so he could fly to Paris. After that, his return was delayed twice.

We already agreed that he’d return before Saturday, but it suddenly changed to Saturday itself...

This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t an extremely troublesome matter. 

...and he still stubbornly said that he wasn’t tired.

I place my forefingers on his temples, making slow circles. After a while, a soft laugh drifts from his lips. 

Victor: [releases a sigh which sounds like a moan lol]...

Victor takes my right hand and encloses it in his palm, wordlessly pulling me closer to him. 

With this distance, every one of his breaths mingle with mine. I can’t help but bend down, pressing the corner of my lips to his fringe.

In the quiet darkness, I hear the frequency of our heartbeats and breathing mingling and becoming more and more synchronised.

Victor: ...there’s no need to worry about me. I haven’t reached the point where a dummy has to worry about me.

MC: Mm, I got it. 

I respond softly, but can’t hide the touch of peace in my smile. 

MC: ...I just can’t help it.

Can’t help but worry if you’re hungry or not, whether you're cold or not, whether you’re tired or not. 

Can’t help but want to see you, whether you’re in front of me or not.

Can’t help but reveal the smile in my brows and lips just because you surface in my mind. 

I look out the window - the clouds spread across the dim twilight and the stars are looming. The golden sunset and the quietness of the night meet at the end of the sky. 

The sun is about to set.

MC: Victor, I didn’t finish the interview outline before the sun set. Are you going to punish me? 

Victor: ...

The only response I get is the sound of his steady and peaceful breathing. 

I lower my head and look at his sleeping face. This familiar side profile has gotten slightly thinner over the span of just a few days. I reach out, stroking his cheek in mid-air.

Afraid to disturb him, I silently watch him.

MC: Sleep then.

MC: ...

MC: Sleep peacefully. 

[ginnympotter]

to the garden

here it is, my betty inspired jily one-shot. to be honest i’ve been struggling to write this for so long i don’t even know if it’s good, but i finished it and i’m at least proud of that. i hope you guys enjoy it. thanks so much for reading 💗 p.s. this is a covid free universe

you can also read it on AO3 here.

Thursday Afternoon

“I fucked up,” James announced as he sat down for lunch.

No one looked up, but Sirius responded after a large gulp of his soda. “That’s nothing new.”

James growled, stabbing at his roast beef. “No, you don’t understand. I fucked up so bad, I’m not even hungry.”

Remus was kind enough to spare him a sympathetic look. “Well if it ruined your appetite, it must be serious. What happened?”

“Evans switched her homeroom,” he muttered under his breath, looking around to make sure she was not near. He spotted her at her usual table across the room, out of earshot. “And I won’t make assumptions but…I think it’s ‘cause of me.”

“I believe that was an assumption,” Remus replied. “And a ridiculous one, at that.”

“But it’s true! She knows,” James cried hopelessly. “She knows I got with Alison this summer.”

Peter laughed. “Well, the whole school knows that.”

James’s eyes widened. He felt his stomach drop. “What do you mean, Pete?”

“Inez,” Sirius answered, still not looking up, browsing through different motorbikes on his phone.

James groaned. Of course Inez ran her mouth. If Inez got word of anything, true or false, she spread it like wildfire.

“On the bright side, I also heard from Inez today that Snape and Lily aren’t talking anymore,” Peter told him comfortingly.

Despite all odds, James’s spirits lifted just the tiniest bit. “They aren’t?”

He shot his eyes back at Lily’s table and noticed that Snape wasn’t there. Mary was sitting next to Lily and Marlene sat across from them, animatedly telling a story. He forced himself to look away so Lily wouldn’t catch him staring.

“Regardless,” Remus said, looking pointedly at James. “Lily switched into my homeroom, and she told me this morning it’s because she’s taking AP Lit instead of regular English class, so she had to move some things around to make it work.”

“Classic Evans,” Sirius laughed, putting his phone down and taking a bite of his sandwich. “It’s going to be a tight race between you two for valedictorian, Prongs.”

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the sole reason she switched her homeroom, but she still hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Remus said impatiently. “But if you’re so convinced, why don’t you just apologize?”

James got a distinct feeling that Remus knew something he didn’t. “Did she mention me to you in homeroom today? What are you hiding?” he asked eagerly.

Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m not hiding anything. Just talk to her yourself,” he responded, then gave a look that James clearly understood to mean ‘I’m done with this conversation,’ and dug back into his lunch.

Despite James’s conviction that Lily Evans hated him now, something about the way Remus was even more fed up with his antics than usual made him feel slightly less nauseous, and so he began to eat as well.

But only a moment later, the sound of Sirius’s voice made him feel sick again. “Just hook up with her at her party tomorrow night and it’ll all end well, I’m sure.”

James choked on his mashed potatoes. “Her what now?”

“Her party. You’re invited,” Sirius answered.

“I don’t follow,” James said, feeling as if very little air was entering his lungs. “How do you know she’s having a party? And that I’m invited?”

“She told me,” Sirius informed him. “We sit next to each other in AP Physics because of Vector’s alphabetized seating arrangement. You know that. That’s why you’re stuck with Peter.”

“I’m going to choose to ignore that,” said Peter.

“Anyway,” Sirius continued. “She told me she’s having a party tomorrow night at her house and to bring you guys along.” He lifted up his phone and shoved it in James’s face, a picture of a motorcycle on the screen. “What do you think about this one?”

“It’s fine,” James snapped, taking Sirius’s phone out of his hand. “Did she say my name specifically when inviting us or was she just talking vaguely about our group?”

“James, I don’t know,” he groaned reaching for his phone across the table. “I don’t analyze every word that comes out of Evans’s mouth! Now give me back my phone-“

“No-“

“Give it to him, James,” Remus said sternly.

James resigned, handing it back over. “Sorry, Dad.”

“Now, eat,” Remus ordered.

James was going to listen- he really was- but then Alison passed by with Inez. Alison looked at James and smiled sadly, offering a little wave. With regret in his stomach and guilt in his throat, he waved back, and then quickly looked back towards his friends.

“Coward,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

James gasped. If someone wanted to bruise James Potter’s ego, ‘coward’ was all they needed in their arsenal to defeat him. Above all, James has always prided himself on being brave. “How DARE you. Sleep on the street tonight, traitor.”

“Euphemia would sooner kick you to the curb for this Evans stupidity than depriving me of shelter for simply calling you out on your bullshit.”

“You don’t understand how painful my last conversation with Alison was…having to admit that I still had feelings for Lily…apologizing for not being more straightforward about it in the beginning…you can’t call me a coward after that.”

“Well, until you apologize to Lily too, I’ll continue berating you as I see fit.”

********

Friday Morning

James almost couldn’t complain; he knew he deserved this type of misery. But it still hurt.

Because as he walked into government class on Friday morning and spotted Evans, she was wearing a particular item of clothing that made his heart stop and his throat close up. Her white, knitted cardigan that it was definitely too hot to be wearing enveloped her like a hug.

“I like my sweaters oversized,” she had told him that night.

And now he couldn’t concentrate on a single thing Binns was saying because the very little self-control he had over his daydreaming was ripped away by that cardigan. He sat two seats to the left and one seat behind Lily and stared at the white material, remembering the feel of it through his fingers as he pulled her to him that night under the streetlight, as he took it off of her in his car…

He cursed himself for not treasuring that night more than he did…then maybe he wouldn’t have stormed out of the dance. Then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten in the car with Alison. Then maybe he would have actually had the courage to ask Lily to be his girlfriend when he had the chance.

Sirius was right. He was a coward.

He drowned himself in the memories of that night, letting his ego melt around him, suffocating him with regret. Out of the corner of his eye, waking him from his reverie, he noticed Snape a few seats away texting furiously and glancing at Lily, who pointedly turned her phone over on her desk so that she couldn’t see any messages that might be popping up on her home screen. She started tapping her pencil against her desk in frustration.

He smiled in spite of himself, knowing what each of her little quirks were, because he’d wanted her for so long, and he just made a mess of it all.

He didn’t know how, he didn’t know if he could, but he had to clean it up.

After far longer than he could bear, the bell rang. James was deciding whether or not to approach Lily, but before he could even make a decision, she threw her books into her bag, jumped up, and bolted towards the door. For a moment, James thought she could somehow read his mind and was trying to avoid him before it was too late, but he quickly realized that it was another man in Lily’s life driving her away.

Snape got up almost as quickly as her, his greasy hair blowing behind him as he followed her. James gathered his belongings and followed the class out, curious to see if Lily had made her escape or not.

She hadn’t. Rather, she was at her locker, rummaging through, as Snape stood at her locker door, speaking rapidly to her. As James approached, it sounded like Snape was pleading with her.

“Lily,” Snape said with urgency. “How many times do I need to apologize-“

“None,” she snapped, slamming her locker door. “Because I’m done forgiving you. Just leave me alone.”

“Will you please just listen-“

He strode over. “Snape,” he growled.

Snape turned sharply towards him, his features all narrowed in anger. “This is none of your business.”

“It seems like you’re harassing Evans. She told you to leave her alone.”

Lily finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. She kept her gaze on him as she spoke to Snape. “Please, Sev. Just go.”

But he remained rooted to the spot, his face red, yet seemingly unable to speak.

James adjusted his bag’s shoulder strap unnecessarily. He spoke to Lily. “You have art next, yeah? So do I. Come on.”

And without thinking much about it, he grasped her wrist and steered them away from Snape and down the hallway. He tried to ignore the familiar feel of the cardigan against his hand, noticing how Lily was striding along with him, quickening her pace as they turned the corner to enter the staircase. They walked down the stairs quickly in silence. As they reached the landing, Lily glanced up at him.

It was the first time he got a good look at her face since the dance. The summer sun seemed to have brought out her freckles. Her face was slightly flushed. Her red bangs had grown so long she had to part them in the middle so they wouldn’t fall in her eyes. Her eyes, as beautiful, as wide, as green, as lethal as ever.

When he processed all its parts as a whole, his stomach dropped; she looked… sad. Her eyes flashed to his grip on her wrist, and he removed his hand from her and ruffled his hair anxiously.

She spoke first, her voice not giving her away. “I appreciate the intention, Potter, but you didn’t have to do that. I can handle him myself.”

“I know you can,” he assured her, feeling the heat rise on his neck. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize…” she sighed, crossing her arms. “For that, at least.”

James’s stomach dropped. She stood for a moment, as if waiting for the implied other apology, but then offered a smile that was gone so fast that perhaps it was just his imagination, before turning out of the staircase into the hallway. Afraid to speak, he followed her into the art classroom. As they were the first ones in the room, Lily chose a table, and feeling reckless, James sat down next to her. “Sirius told me you’re having a party tonight.”

She nodded. “I am.”

“And that I’m invited.”

Her expression was suspicious. “You are.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want me there?”

She yanked her sketchbook out of her bag, opening it up roughly. “Show up, don’t show up, your choice, I don’t really care.”

But her voice was impassive, whereas it was usually filled with inflection and passion and emotion, so the lack thereof was a giveaway that she did care. He almost wanted to call her bluff, but the rest of their classmates started trickling in, including Lily’s friend, Mary Macdonald, who sat down and gave James a scathing look. He nodded at her politely and then focused on his bag, taking out his materials. Sirius strode in and sat next to James, giving him a questioning look. James just shook his head as he doodled on the corner of his sketchbook.

“Evans. Macdonald,” Sirius greeted their desk mates. “Ready to get smashed tonight?”

“Always,” Mary said.

“How difficult do you think it will be to impose a three-drink maximum?”

“Maximum?” Sirius gaped.

“Impossible, Lil,” Mary told her.

“What for?” asked Sirius, seeming deeply offended.

Lily sighed, pulling on her cardigan sleeves. “I just don’t want anyone breaking anything. Or vomiting on anything. My parents would kill me.”

“Or worse than that,” Mary looked at her. “Petunia,” she and Lily said simultaneously, grimacing.

Sirius let out a laugh like a bark. “Your boring, uptight sister? I’d like to see her try.”

“Oh, she will try,” Lily assured him.

“She won’t be home though, right?” Mary asked. “She’ll be off with her loser boyfriend.”

“Well, I apologize in advance, Evans, but I am going to be having more than three drinks. I probably won’t throw up, but no promises about not breaking anything, especially if this one tags along,” Sirius said, elbowing James. “Becomes a complete klutz under the influence.”

Mary turned her head sharply towards James. “You’re coming? To Lily’s party tonight? Who invited you?”

“I did,” Lily informed her, looking at her friend pointedly as if trying to send her a telepathic message. “Well, technically, I invited Sirius and told him to invite the other three. But Potter hasn’t made his mind up yet.”

Mary looked like she was containing herself as she said quietly, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t come. We can’t risk anything being broken. Although maybe it would be fun to see James suffer from Petunia’s wrath…”

James offered her an obviously fake smile, to which she narrowed her eyes in response just as the teacher began to attempt to gain the class’s attention. As the room became quiet, James caught Lily’s eyes again. Her cheeks were flushed but she didn’t shy away, she held his gaze, as if daring him to do something. If only he knew what.

*****

Friday Night

“James, stop being melodramatic.”

“Have you met him, Remus?” Sirius laughed, which James did not appreciate at all. As if he wasn’t melodramatic himself. “It’s his lifestyle.”

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Peter urged them eagerly.

“I am unable to move,” James stated. “I have suddenly been rendered immobile. You guys go. I’ll just die here.”

Remus sighed heavily. “We’re two blocks away, James. Enough of your pretend psychosomatic syndrome and move.”

“Should I run back home and grab your skateboard?” asked Sirius, amused. “We’ll strap you to it and push you the rest of the way.”

“That could work.”

“No,” Remus refused. “Just be a man and go apologize to her. Excuse my gendered language.”

“You’re not excused,” James responded. But he grunted as he watched Remus turn and resume their route, so he forced his own legs forward, and he began to walk towards their doomed destination once again.

“Huzzah!” Peter shouted in celebration, scurrying after him.

“It’s a miracle!” Sirius gasped, throwing an arm around James’s shoulders. “Maybe I’ll convert from atheist to agnostic now.”

James chuckled nervously, fighting the urge to run very far away. He thought he could read Lily like a book, but with each step towards her house he felt increasingly doubtful of her intentions, how she would react when he arrived. It was the last time he could dream about what would happen when she sees his face again, and living in the best-case scenario fantasy was much easier than doing it in reality. But he knew if he didn’t seize this opportunity to apologize to Lily, he would never get another chance. And so he trudged on until they reached their destination. He could faintly hear the music that was blaring inside. Mary and Marlene were on the front porch laughing, Lily standing beside them.

Lily, who took his breath away with a singular glance, had her hair up the way he liked, wearing high-waist, denim shorts, a white t-shirt, and that damn cardigan. He felt his airways clog up with desire.

Mary gave James a similar dubious look as she did in art class. Marlene, who was protective of Lily but slightly more sympathetic than Mary, gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Sirius let go of James as Remus hugged Lily. James was filled with curiosity as he watched them quickly exchange whispered words in urgency. Remus patted Lily on the shoulder before walking in to her house. Peter and Marlene followed, but Sirius loitered outside, putting his arm around Mary.

“Come, Macdonald. It’s a beautiful night. Let’s walk.”

“Where?” she asked him skeptically.

“To the other side of the porch,” he told her, winking at James as if to tell him I got you covered, before steering her away from James and Lily.

It was just them for now.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her. How beautiful she looked, how much he missed her over the summer, how sorry he was for everything.

“So, I showed up,” is what he blurted out.

“And so you did.” She gave him a once over. “You look nice.”

“So do you,” he responded in haste. “More than nice- great.”

She shrugged, playing with the ends of her hair. James looked over to the other side of the porch and saw Sirius chatting up Mary, who was touching his arm and laughing.

For fear of Sirius’s distraction skills only lasting so long, James looked back at Lily. “Evans, I…I really need to talk to you. Do you think there’s somewhere we can do that with, er, a little more privacy? Like the garden?”

She bit her lip as she contemplated it. He tried not to stare, he really tried, but suddenly he felt like he was sweating.

Eventually, she nodded. “Sure. Follow me.”

She turned into her house and made her way through the living room and kitchen to the backdoor, striding without once looking back or making sure James was close behind. He followed her out the screen door and into the garden.

He sat beside her on the bench beside the orchids. The same bench where he kissed her last.

“The Evans household has a thing for flowers, huh?”

“What?”

“Well the garden has a lot of flowers. You and your sister, both named after flowers. These orchids are really nice,” he rambled nervously.

“Thanks?” she responded, looking at him suspiciously. “So, you wanted to talk?”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Uh, anyway. Thanks, yeah, I do. Honestly, I thought you’d tell me to go fuck myself.”

He could tell she was holding back a smile as she said, “I strongly considered it.”

“I’d deserve it,” he told her honestly, mustering up his courage. “I mean, I do deserve it. That’s why I’m here, I…I want to- no, I need to apologize to you for the way I acted the last week in school before you went away for the summer… I know you already know about it, but I…” he paused, taking a deep breath and locking eyes with her. He needed her to understand this. “I hope you can trust me when I tell you that what happened with Alison was just a summer thing…it’s over now.”

“It’s fine, James,” she said, breaking eye contact and looking off into the distance.

“No, it’s not fine,” he said in earnest. “It was stupid. Leaving the dance like that and not even talking to you and then only a few days later getting with Alison. It’s probably the worst thing I ever did. It wasn’t fair to Alison, because I was just trying to get you out of my head. But it especially wasn’t fair to you. And I’m sorry.”

The silence sat heavy around them before Lily sighed. She continued to stare at the flowers in the garden. “I just don’t know where it all went wrong.”

“I do,” he responded quietly. “At the dance, your favorite song was playing. ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift. Remember?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I wanted to dance with you to it-“

“I wanted to dance with you to it too,” she said, snapping her gaze back to his. Her look was fierce. “But I couldn’t find you!”

“I was sitting in the corner of the gym taking a break from the chaos. The dance was overwhelming. If it’s not a football game, I hate the crowds. You know that.”

“I do know that,” she replied, her face red. “Which is why I was trying to find you- I thought…God this sounds so stupid now. I thought we could dance to it outside or something.”

James tried to swallow, but it felt like his heart had jumped up into his throat. He forced more words out of his mouth. “It’s not stupid, that’s what I wanted to do.” They both smiled for a fraction of a second, but then his face dropped again as he told her, “But then I saw you dance with…him.”

Lily’s smile evaporated too. “You mean Severus?”

“Yes.”

Lily put her head in her hands. “Of course. Of course that’s what happened. God, how did I not put two and two together?”

“I know I was wrong now, I know nothing happened that night. Remus told me as much this summer,” he said, putting a hand through his hair, feeling the embarrassment spreading across his own cheeks. “But it was like my worst nightmare playing out before my eyes! I didn’t know you went looking for me at first, I didn’t know what you guys were talking about, I just saw his arms around you and was so angry I stormed out as fast as I could, so that I wouldn’t do something really stupid to him!”

Lily groaned, removing her hands from her face and pulling on her cardigan sleeves. “You could’ve spoken to me about it literally at any point after up until I left for my trip. I tried talking to you that last day in school and you gave me such a cold shoulder!”

“I know. And I’m sorry for that,” he apologized, hoping the sincerity was evident in his voice. “It’s not an excuse, but I was just hurt. We all know how obsessed Snivellus-“

“James,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, sorry, I know you hate that. We all know how obsessed Snape,” he corrected himself begrudgingly, continuing on, “is with you, and I know you two are like childhood best friends or whatever, so I jumped to conclusions when I saw you indulging him.”

“Well, you jumped wrong,” she almost spat. She was angry now, real angry, but James could not tell if her fury was directed at him or Snape. “I wasn’t indulging anything, he must’ve had his hands on me for fifteen seconds before I got him off me, told him off and stormed away.”

James felt a sense of relief and guilt tangled up inside him. “What happened?”

She fidgeted, exhaling deeply. “He was warning me about you for, I don’t know, the nine hundredth time at that point, saying how I should be with him instead, the usual bullshit. I went looking for you again but Sirius said you had left suddenly… And then you wouldn’t even look at me at school.”

“I was embarrassed. And furious,” he admitted.

“Yeah, I could tell as much.”

“But I still saw you talking to him,” James remembered, knowing it did not make a difference but wanting her to understand his entire thought process. “That last day in school. I saw you walk home with him. You two seemed fine.”

Lily frowned. “I was giving him one last chance to apologize, to salvage the small sliver of friendship I was still holding onto for only God knows why…we got to my house and he tried to kiss me. I had to physically push him off me, yelled at him like I’ve never yelled at anyone in my life, and he ran home. And that was the end of that.”

“Fuck,” James exhaled, feeling his anger burn every inch of his skin, boiling his insides.

“It’s ok, I’m fine,” she assured him, noticing how angry he looked on her behalf, and put the fingers peeking out of her cardigan sleeve on his hand to help level him. She let it linger for a few seconds in silence before bringing her hand back into her lap. “So that’s how my day ended before I left for Italy with my family. But I heard you had an interesting afternoon that day too, hm?”

It felt like a punch in the gut as she looked at him, her question pointed and knowing. His chest tightened as he asked, “Are you sure you want to know about it?”

“I’d rather hear it from you than Inez, so yes, if you’d please.”

He sighed, wanting so bad to look away from her but knowing he had to look her in the face so she’d see the remorse in his eyes. He summoned all the courage he had. “I saw you walking home with Snape, and was…besides myself. I took the long way home. Remember where we went on our date? That block with the broken cobblestones? I was walking there, thinking of you.” He paused and took a deep breath, Lily’s face still blank. “And then Alison pulled up in her car, noticed I was upset, told me to get in for a drive. It was like…a figment of my worst intentions. I thought you were with Snape, and Alison was throwing out hints left and right that she was interested, and so I went with it…we didn’t officially date or anything, but I spent time with her a bunch this summer. But it was so, so fucking stupid to think any other girl could distract me from you because…well, I dreamt of you all summer long. And so I told her that, and cut the whole thing off a couple of weeks ago.”

He paused, watching her face, hoping for a hint of what was racing through her beautiful brain. She was contemplative, searching his eyes. When she still said nothing, James reiterated, “I’m so, so sorry, Lily. About all of it…about Alison, about ignoring you those last few days at school, about assuming something was going on with you and Snape and storming out of the dance…”

Lily sighed, crossing her arms. “I understand. But it still hurts… I mean, I finally let you in and went on that date with you and I felt so… and then just so suddenly…” she trailed off.

“I know,” he empathized. “The thing I’m sorry for the most is not asking you to be my girlfriend the moment after you kissed me on our date. I was going to ask you at the dance, but obviously those plans got thrown out the window.”

“You were?” she asked, her arms dropping as her face softened.

“Yes,” he told her, needing her to believe him. “But not just that, I wanted to tell you how I feel, because I don’t think you really know, do you?”

She didn’t respond, so he took that as his cue to keep going.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve told you on our date, but I was trying to keep it cool, which was dumb, and I’m done with that. I’ve been…crazy about you since freshman year. I mean, I know I asked you out a bunch so you must have known I was interested, but it’s more than that. You are… the most special person I’ve ever known. You have a way of making everyone feel important. You’re so damn nice to everyone, I wish I had that kind of heart. And God, you are so smart it’s the sexiest thing-“

She started to laugh. When James’s eyes widened at this reaction, she shook her head. “I’m laughing because I think the same thing about you. Especially the smart and sexy bit.”

He smiled. “I mean, you’re so much more than sexy, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And when I’m with you I can just be myself. We just…fit, you know?”

“I know.”

“Evans, I’ll apologize for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes. I’m an idiot, an absolute fucking idiot for the way I acted. I’m still trying to figure this all out, you know? I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything! I have no idea what I’m doing!” he laughed. She smiled back, and he took that as permission to hold her hand, and so he did. “But I know I miss you. More than I’ve ever missed anything or anyone. And I swear, I’ll never hurt you again. The only thing I want to do is make it up to you. Please believe me. You don’t have to forgive me yet, but at least say you believe me.”

There was a beat, and then Lily intertwined their fingers. “I believe you,” she told him. “And I forgive you.”

When James exhaled, it felt like it was the first time he properly breathed in months, his entire bodily system recalibrating. “Really?”

“Perhaps against my better judgment, but yes, really. I missed you, too.”

He suddenly felt electric, looking at Lily, letting her admission sink in. “I missed you so damn much,” he told her again, and unable to hold back a moment longer, he disconnected their fingers, put both his hands on her face and kissed her.

To his surprise, she kissed him back with matched enthusiasm, grasping at his sides and pulling him closer so that their bodies were connected. The feel of her was better than he remembered, more than he dreamed it would be. He moved one hand to the back of her head, and she opened her mouth to him. The world fell away as she let out a soft moan at the gentle sweep of his tongue. He sunk into her embrace and never intended to leave, because why would he need to do anything else?

But at some point, a few minutes too soon, Lily pulled away, leaning her head against James’s shoulder and breathing heavily.

“Alright, Evans?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.

She nodded against him. “Yeah, I’m just…hot.”

James chuckled, playing with her ponytail. “Well, that goes without saying.”

Lily snorted, picking her head up and looking at him, her eyes light and dazed. “No, I mean, I’m hot, like I’m sweating. Let me just…”

She pulled back just the slightest bit and unbuttoned her cardigan. As she shook out of it, her expression became mischievous.

“You wore that on purpose,” he accused her with an equally playful smile. “It was way too warm all day for you to actually need it.”

“Guilty,” she smirked, wrapping it around her waist. “I was hoping to spark something in your memory.”

“More like torture my memory,” he said, threading the sleeve through his fingers briefly. “You think I wouldn’t remember that you wore this on our date? The moment I saw you standing in your cardigan this morning, I knew I was fucked. I was distracted the rest of the day.”

“Too bad you didn’t see me sooner.”

“Well I would have if…”

He paused, contemplating whether he should ask her.

“If what?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ok, random question, just thought of it like, one second ago, haven’t been ruminating on it since school started yesterday or anything. Did you switch your homeroom ‘cause of me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so this is what you were bugging Remus about? No, of course not. I had to move my schedule around so I could take AP Lit.”

“Oh,” he exhaled in relief. “Well, good. But not good about you and my stupid friends conspiring behind my back-“

“There was no conspiring. You should be grateful for that stupid friend of yours; he pleaded your case rather convincingly.”

“He pleaded yours well too. Sometimes I don’t know whose side that guy is on.”

“Well mine, obviously,” she said. “Your assumption about homeroom was ridiculous. Did you think I was too afraid to see you or something? That I’m a coward?”

He tensed up again. “No! I would never- I just meant, I thought you were so sickened with me that the last thing you would want to do is start your day staring at the back of my head.”

She laughed, reaching over and running her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes at the feeling, reveling in the familiar touch he last felt a few months ago, though it felt like ages. “Nah, I’m quite fond of the back of your head. An exceedingly annoying amount, actually.”

He sighed happily as her nails gently grazed his scalp.

“But as much as that may be true, and although I do forgive you, I do still feel hurt. And that trust needs to be rebuilt over time, you know?”

“I know. Lily,” her name left his lips like a whisper. Her hand paused on the back of his neck. He opened his eyes again and met hers, green and sparkling. He couldn’t blow it this time. “I really am so, so sorry. And I will do whatever it takes to make it all up to you. But can I do that as your boyfriend?”

She bit her lip, studied his face for seconds that felt like an eternity, and then nodded.

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, smiling. “Let’s do it already. I’m in.”

“Finally,” he said, smiling ear to ear. Lily laughed, probably at the goofy grin on his face, before he swiftly swooped in, crushing his lips against hers again.

Her nails continued their work in his hair as she kissed him back fervently, pressing her body against his again, causing him to moan. He knew that every second he had with her was cherished, and he tried to cement them in his mind, but it was only a few minutes later a voice broke them apart.

“Lily!” Mary called out from a distance. They broke apart with a simultaneous sigh, turning to see her standing outside the back door, hands on her hips like an angry parent. Sirius pushed the screen door open, shouted, “Sorry, I tried!” and then retreated back into the house.

She marched toward them, a woman on a mission. “Really, Lil? Really?”

“Why, Macdonald, you look lovely tonight,” James tried.

“Do not test me, James Potter,” she snapped. “You can’t just-“

“Mary,” Lily called her friend’s name fiercely. “No need for the hostility. James and I hashed everything out-”

“Yeah, unfortunately, I can see!” she exclaimed in disgust.

“Could you give us some space, then? Please?” Lily asked. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Fine. But just in case you forgot, your party is happening in there without you. And you promised me a round of karaoke.”

“And I intend to keep that promise,” she told her firmly. “Just give us a few, alright?”

“Alright. I’ll be timing you though. And Potter, I got my eye on you,” she warned, pointing her index and middle finger to her eyes and then onto James.

He laughed, knowing that Mary always liked him before the summer and would soften up to him again eventually. “Understood.”

She nodded and walked off. They waited until the screen door closed behind her. Then Lily turned back to face him. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, I get it,” he waved it off. “And I don’t want your friends murdering either of us, but there’s so much I wanted to catch up on, like your trip to Italy-“

“I know, me too,” she sighed.

He interlocked their fingers and lifted her hand to his lips. “Are you free tomorrow? Why don’t we get breakfast and take a drive, spend the day? That way no one can interrupt us.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

Knowing his time was running out, he leaned forward and kissed her once more with all he had, feeling elated as she returned each kiss with her own, already excited at the thought of kissing her more in the car tomorrow. With as much willpower as he could muster, he pulled away from her, running the hand that wasn’t holding hers down the length of her arm until it reached the cardigan around her waist. He felt a shiver down his spine at the twinkle in her eye as she squeezed his thigh. “C’mon,” she said, pulling them upwards.

He walked dreamily alongside her to the screen door, hardly able to believe his luck. Before she could open it, he stopped her. “Hey. I just wanted to say…thanks. For giving me another chance.”

“It’s your last one,” she told him, kind but certain. “So use it well.”

“I will. I promise.”

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2020 Day 25

Burn - Ghost

It seems like Beetober is a perfect time to write about all the rare pairs I didn't even consider before but I do have to admit that Zhancheng might be kind of growing on me.

When Jiang Cheng wakes up in the middle of the night, he simply takes a moment to stare at Lan Wangji, before he sits up in bed.

The cold night air hits him, causes him to shiver, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t pull the blanket around his shoulders.

It would wake Lan Wangji, and he would hate to do that.

Jiang Cheng should be sticky and sweaty after what they did that evening, but Lan Wangji took great care to clean him up afterwards and so Jiang Cheng can’t even pretend that it’s the uncomfortable feeling of dry come that woke him.

He only has his own thoughts and worry to blame for being awake at this ungodly hour.

Jiang Cheng isn’t entirely sure how he ended up here, with Lan Wangji in his bed, but it’s been going on for long enough that he mostly stopped questioning it.

It certainly was a hate thing—and mutual at that—at first, but it’s been going on for so long now, that Jiang Cheng’s stupid heart got attached. It’s probably the biggest mistake Jiang Cheng has ever made—and with his track record that’s surely saying something—because he knows what this is for Lan Wangji.

He came to Jiang Cheng full of grief, hurt and with a toddler perched on his hip—his toddler, Jiang Cheng recognized him—and then he simply didn’t leave him alone again.

But Jiang Cheng knows that Lan Wangji is only looking for Wei Wuxian; is looking for that particular Lotus scent that always clung to Wei Wuxian, for the faintest sound of his bell, for his trailing red ribbon.

The first two Lan Wangji found in Lotus Pier easily enough, found it both with Jiang Cheng even, but the last one is a lot harder to come by.

Jiang Cheng should know, because he’s been looking for it as well.

Wei Wuxian’s ghost hangs over both of them, hangs over every interaction they have, and Jiang Cheng hates to admit that his ghost follows Jiang Cheng into the bedroom, at least recently.

Ever since Jiang Cheng admitted to himself that it’s not just a hate thing between them anymore, at least not for him.

It was easier when it was still just that, Jiang Cheng thinks, but he can’t change it, not anymore.

He’s in too deep already; Lan Wangji is almost a steady presence at Lotus Pier by now. Jin Ling and Wen Yuan—now Lan Yuan, really—are growing up together and Jiang Cheng has heard Jin Ling refer to Lan Yuan as his older brother more than once already.

He should have corrected him, it’s not what this is, what they are doing, but he didn’t have the heart to.

And now his own heart is set on a man who hates him and who still loves his dead brother. Jiang Cheng would laugh at the ridiculousness of it all if it didn’t hurt so much.

“Fuck,” he whispers, careful not to wake Lan Wangji, but when a large, warm hand settles on Jiang Cheng’s back, he knows it’s futile.

Lan Wangji has always been a light sleeper.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jiang Cheng says without looking at Lan Wangji, but he can see him shrug from the corner of his eyes.

“It’s almost time, anyway,” Lan Wangji gives back, his voice still sleep rough and heat pools low in Jiang Cheng’s stomach.

“But not yet,” Jiang Cheng says, trying desperately to distract himself, but when Lan Wangji starts to sweep his hand up and down Jiang Cheng’s bare back he realizes that it’s no use.

“Not yet,” Lan Wangji agrees and then pushes himself up on an elbow. “You’ve been thinking,” he says and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the light frown on his face, the way the corner of his mouth subtly turns down, and he wonders when the hell he learned to read the many expressions of Lan Wangji like this.

Jiang Cheng used to think he was expressionless, used to think that his brother was just fucking with him when he said he could tell if Lan Wangji was mad, or concerned or embarrassed, but now he realizes that it must have been true.

Lan Wangji is anything but expressionless after all.

“Surprising, I know,” Jiang Cheng gives back, just a little bit too late and a little bit too biting, and Lan Wangji tugs on his hair in retaliation.

“No bad thoughts in bed,” Lan Wangji decidedly says and sits up, so that he can easily smooth his hand over Jiang Cheng’s forehead as if he wants to chase all of his bad thoughts away.

Jiang Cheng huffs out a bitter laugh because what other kind of thoughts are there to have, when the man in his bed, the man he loves—as stupid as that might be—is only with him to chase the lingering image of Jiang Cheng’s dead brother.

There really isn’t anything good about any of this.

“You’re offering to distract me?” Jiang Cheng asks over his shoulder, a clear suggestion in his voice, because for all that they clash in almost everything else—personality, parenting style, values—they are almost scarily compatible in this.

“There is still time,” Lan Wangji agrees with a nod, and slides his hand from Jiang Cheng’s forehead to his neck, and uses it to tug him closer.

Jiang Cheng follows his lead easily, but when Lan Wangji’s lips meet his, Jiang Cheng’s eyes start to burn. 

The kiss is too sweet, too intimate, and not at all what Jiang Cheng can handle right now. But he knows that if he simply pulls away Lan Wangji will have questions; questions Jiang Cheng is in no way equipped to answer and so instead he presses closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss.

Lan Wangji hesitates for a moment, clearly noticing that something is wrong but when Jiang Cheng tugs on his lower lip with his teeth, Lan Wangji gives in.

It’s always a sure-fire way to distract Lan Wangji and it works like a charm this time as well.

Lan Wangji does not manage to get up at five that morning.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng feels like someone pulled out the ground from under him.

Wei Wuxian is back. He’s in a different body, but it’s still him, Jiang Cheng is sure of that. He’s wearing his trademark black, the red ribbon dangling down his back, a flute in his hand and capturing Lan Wangji’s attention almost effortlessly.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes are glued to where Lan Wangji’s hand—the same hand that just a few days ago was buried in Jiang Cheng’s hair—encircles Wei Wuxian’s wrist.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, clearly coming to the same conclusion that Jiang Cheng had reached, and the words threaten to burn Jiang Cheng alive.

He’s going to lose this, he realizes with a start; he’s going to lose the one good thing in his life he has besides Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui. 

Jiang Cheng is going to lose Lan Wangji and he can’t even be mad about it. Lan Wangji wasn’t his to begin with.

Jiang Cheng always knew that it was all borrowed; the affection, the shared life. It was only bestowed upon Jiang Cheng because he is Wei Wuxian’s brother.

It’s all rightfully Wei Wuxian’s and Jiang Cheng is sure that he will have it back in no time. 

Jiang Cheng can’t tear his eyes away from the gentle hold Lan Wangji has on Wei Wuxian’s arms and he wants to rage and to scream, to beg his brother to not take this away from him, too, but he knows he doesn’t have that right.

What he and Lan Wangji have is born out of hate, no matter if it changed for Jiang Cheng or not. Lan Wangji won’t spare him a second thought now that the real recipient of his affections is back.

Jiang Cheng knows that he should stay—that’s his brother after all—but when Wei Wuxian mutters “Lan Zhan” he tears himself away from the scene.

Their reunion is not something he wants to see and he also doesn’t need to have it thrown into his face that he’s only the second choice, yet again.

So Jiang Cheng turns and walks away from them without a look back.

It will take him time to accept that Lan Wangji will no longer be a constant presence at Lotus Pier—he still hasn’t entirely learned to accept that Wei Wuxian is no longer there after all—and he might as well get started on that.

Jiang Cheng pretends he doesn’t hear Lan Sizhui’s and Jin Ling’s calls after him, and gets on Sandu to take off.

He refuses to be bitter when Lan Wangji doesn’t come after him because this is what he expected after all.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian will have their reunion and Jiang Cheng will be alone in Lotus Pier. Like it should have been all these years.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t hurry home, he takes his time flying to calm his painfully beating heart but he still startles when he sees Lan Wangji waiting at the pier Jiang Cheng normally lands at.

“How the fuck did you get here so fast?” Jiang Cheng snaps out even before touches down, and he half expects to see Wei Wuxian just around the corner as well, but there is no way Lan Wangji would have been faster than Jiang Cheng if he had to carry another person.

“You took your time,” Lan Wangji gives back and there’s a worried frown on his face.

Jiang Cheng knows this because Jiang Cheng learned to interpret his many different frowns by now and he really wishes Lan Wangji was still an unreadable book to him.

“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng bites out and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

He does not want to have this conversation right now, though he knows that it’s going to hurt now as much as it will a week or even a month from now.

He should probably be grateful that Lan Wangji took some precious time he could spend with Wei Wuxian to tell him immediately where they stand.

Lan Wangji takes a step towards him, and Jiang Cheng takes a reflexive step back.

“It’s okay,” he forces out, even though it’s anything but. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”

“I don’t think you do,” Lan Wangji gives back and there’s a displeased tone to his voice and the frown is still firmly in place, too.

Jiang Cheng had really hoped Lan Wangji would spare him this, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll get lucky.

“Wanyin,” Lan Wangji says and he steps closer so fast that Jiang Cheng doesn’t have a chance to retreat further.

“Wanyin,” Lan Wangji says again, even softer than before and Jiang Cheng can’t fight him when he reaches for his hand.

“What?” Jiang Cheng snaps out because he doesn’t know what’s happening and he doesn’t know if he can trust it.

“It’s in the past,” Lan Wangji says and Jiang Cheng flinches at his words.

To think that Lan Wangji managed to close that chapter of their lives so quickly really damn hurts, but Lan Wangji is shaking his head at him.

“Wei Ying. That’s the past,” Lan Wangji explains. “He was my first love, but we were young then. Things changed. They changed for me,” Lan Wangji admits and Jiang Cheng’s heart is beating so fast, he fears it might jump out of his chest.

He wants to ask how things have changed but then Lan Wangji is already so close that their chests brush with every breath they take.

“It’s you now,” Lan Wangji whispers into the space between them and Jiang Cheng wants to keep that slight smile on his face forever.

“This is not what we started with,” Jiang Cheng blurts out, because he can’t quite believe that Lan Wangji would choose him over Wei Wuxian but Lan Wangji only shrugs.

“But it’s what we turned into, isn’t it?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng’s breath leaves him in a rush.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting on Lan Wangji’s shoulder and he just breathes in his scent for a few long, wonderful moments.

“Yes,” he then breathes out and when Lan Wangji carefully lifts Jiang Cheng’s head, he is composed enough to meet him in a kiss.

Jiang Cheng didn’t think he would get to keep this, and so he maybe clings more tightly to Lan Wangji than he has to, but Lan Wangji’s hands on him are definitely leaving bruises and Jiang Cheng doesn’t mind that at all. 

Quite the opposite, really, because Jiang Cheng is glad to know that he wasn’t the only one who was scared to lose this.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[writesowhatnext]

aren’t you full of surprises // charlie weasley

Summary: Charlie Weasley cannot possibly be your soulmate: he’s got nothing to do with dragons

Request: Hiya love, can I request a soulmate au with Charlie weasley?? Something about a little symbol on their body which represents their soulmate and Charlie’s soulmates is a little dragon which he sees after a quidditch match or something?! Thank you!!

A/N: I really love Charlie oml – this is mostly based on the books and stuff &&&& I included tonks bc I love her and she’s in the same year so made it easy +++ s/o to anon who told me Sam Heughan was a good fan cast bc you were right and he’s perfect :))))

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: swearing I suppose, making out ;)

You had decided that you were completely over having a soulmate. They were supposed to be perfect for you, sure, but they were ever so messy. What if you liked someone that wasn’t your soulmate? What if you never met your soulmate and you spiralled into a deep, dark, endless depression and ended up alone? What if your soulmate was cruel to animals? Or smelt bad? What if they supported the Falmouth Falcons? There were just too many things out of your control and so, after another recurring debate with your friend, Tonks, you had sworn off the idea completely.

“Y/N! Soulmates complete you!” Crumbs from the toast in her mouth tumbled back onto her plate as you rolled your eyes. “I know that I’m counting down the days ‘til I find whoever this is.”

As she pointed at the little wolf symbol on her wrist, her hair turned the softest, lightest shade of pink. It always did when she thought about her soulmate. You shot her a deadpan look.

“I just don’t think it’s very fair. Some people never find their soulmates – the whole thing is very unpredictable.”

“You’re missing the point,” Tonks insisted, her hair turning a light brown. “Soulmates are the only thing in this world that are actually reliable! They’re sweet and you’re supposed to share them with people!”

“Not this again-“

“I don’t understand why you won’t show me yours.”

“Sorry, Tonks, I think I hear McGonagall calling me.” You lied very obviously, standing up from the Hufflepuff table, and walking towards the door - the opposite way to where McGonagall was sat at the Teacher’s table.

“I’ll find out one day!” Tonks shouted after you, mouth once again full of toast.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Tonks; she was actually the only person you did trust, sometimes. It was just that whenever you looked at the dragon curled up on your shoulder, all you felt was annoyed at the universe. Besides, you had your eyes set on someone anyway.

Charlie Weasley had surprised you every time you learnt something new about him. He was handsome and well built, with ridiculously unruly hair and skin entirely covered with freckles. The first time you’d really heard of him was at the end of second year when he was made Seeker for the Gryffindor quidditch team. Not long after, he was made Quidditch Captain and so, you’d written him, perhaps prematurely, as a classic Quidditch jock: he’d probably join a regional team straight out of Hogwarts and that would be that. You had to admit though, after seeing him play once against Hufflepuff (a match Tonks had dragged you to), he was probably good enough to play for the nationals.

It surprised you more than anything to know that he’d been made a prefect, too. Granted, you didn’t know a lot about him, but you were pleasantly intrigued to hear that he was not only athletic but also quite smart. If anyone asked, he was definitely not the reason you tried out for the team that year. No one was as shocked as you when you were made chaser. Not even Charlie.

After a particularly intense match involving six fouls, a runaway snitch and a near-death experience, you were quite grateful to be back on two feet. The ground had never felt so good. What made it better, actually, was who stood to greet you by the entrance to the pitch. Even in his robes with a red and gold Gryffindor scarf draped around his neck, he’d never looked so good.

“Y/N, right?” he asked, a tentative smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help but match his grin. “And you’re Charlie Weasley.”

“I didn’t realise I had such a reputation.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t.” you said, teasing him, walking past before turning around. “Your brothers are making a name for themselves. Their pranks are already pretty notorious.”

“Ah.”

“I may have heard of their older brother, world-class quidditch legend and prefect before, though.”

“Well,” he started almost bashfully. “I’m not much of a prefect.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You played really well out there today,”

“Coming from you, that’s quite the compliment.”

“You’re quite the player.”

You didn’t say anything, enjoying the moment far too much.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You nodded, kissing your teeth and turning to get out of your sweaty Quidditch uniform. “See you around, Weasley.”

As you walked back to the changing rooms, you officially made your mind up. Sod your soulmate, you wanted Charlie Weasley.

He made it quite easy for you to achieve your goal. That next day, you sat at the Hufflepuff table, as you often did. Tonks was already launching into a story about a Ravenclaw she had seen Charlie’s brothers prank yesterday when she stopped abruptly midsentence. You frowned at her before following her eyes to look behind you. With a plate of pancakes in his hand and an optimistic smile on his face, there stood Charlie Weasley.

“Can I join you?”

Slightly speechless, you looked to Tonks, mildly irritated to see her staring at you with a smug eyebrow raise.

“Sure.”

Quickly getting to grips with the fact that Charlie wanted to eat with you, you began to lighten up to the idea, glad that he enjoyed your company even a little bit as much as you enjoyed his.

“Tonks, this is Charlie-“

“We’ve met.” She said, an amused smile on her lips as she stabbed some bacon with her fork. You turned to Charlie to see that he’d gone slightly red, a lovely expression on his freckled face.

“You called her Nymphadora, didn’t you?”

He nodded, letting out a nervous laugh. “For the first and last time, that’s for certain.”

“Rightly so.” Tonks nodded, seemingly very pleased with herself.

“You’re a menace.” You pointed at her with your fork.

“Little old me?” Her face was the picture of innocence as she flung her hand backwards, the bacon on her fork flying into the back of a Ravenclaw at the next table. Her hair, along with her face, turned a deep pink shade.

“A menace.” You repeated, crossing your arms before turning to Charlie, who had been staring at you rather intently with an unreadable expression.

“Tonks was just telling me about a prank your brothers pulled yesterday. Given she can’t behave herself at all, she’s quite impressed with them.”

“At least someone is.” He said with a grin. “My mum might actually kill them when we get home.”

“That would be a shame,” Tonks frowned, chewing. “Someone needs to cause a little mayhem when I leave.”

“You think they could replace your legacy just like that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not, but they have to try.”

“Don’t think they could ever beat the time you put that Venomous Tentacula plant in Snape’s classroom,” Charlie’s smile was infectious as he remembered one of Tonks most infamous pranks.

Tonks’ face soured slightly. “I’m still doing detention for that one.”

You, Charlie and Tonks fell into easy conversation and more often than not, you found yourself staring at his attractive face and enjoying the sound of his deep voice.

“So, what d’you have today, Charles?” Tonks asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

“You’re playing with fire.” You warned her, knowing how much she hated her full name. She made a face. Ever the gentleman, Charlie just smirked at her teasing.

“Care of Magical Creatures, first-“

“You took that?” you asked, unable to hide the incredulous tone of your voice. He laughed.

“Yes? What’s wrong with that?”

“Well,” you frowned. “Nothing’s wrong with it, per se. I just didn’t expect you to take it.”

“And, why’s that?”

He turned to face you expectantly, his elbow resting on the table.

“Because you’re a total jock.”

“Oh, really?”

“Quidditch legend, remember?”

He shook his head, smiling. “So, jocks can’t like taking care of magical creatures?”

“They can.” You bit your lip. “They just usually don’t.”

“Are you saying I’m not like other boys?”

Lost for a witty response, you just stared at him. You felt, though cliché, that this was the first time you were actually seeing Charlie Weasley. The amused twinkle in his eye and the soft curve of his lips and the fact that there was a much softer side to him than you’d ever imagined caught you off guard. It seemed like all he ever did was surprise.

“Oh,” Tonks said, drawing both you and Charlie’s attention away from each other. “Bugger,” Her tone was stretched and full of imitated emotion. “I have to get to-“ Her pause was ridiculously long as she stood up from the table, nearly wearing the soupy sauce left from her baked beans as she did. “A class?”

Before you could say anything, she sent you a very conspicuous wink and legged it out of the hall. You would’ve been embarrassed at her obvious attempt to leave you two alone had Charlie not turned to you, amusement written all over his face.

“Blimey, she shot off quick – I bet that class is important.”

The next few weeks, you and Charlie were practically joined at the hip. Every single meal was spent with Tonks at the Hufflepuff table and weekends you spent walking through the grounds talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. He told you everything he could about his family and you told him about how you ended up on the Quidditch team and how strange it was to not be around your own family at Hogwarts. You never talked about the future – it was an unspoken rule. You knew Charlie must’ve had a soulmate and you knew he probably didn’t feel the same as you about the whole deal and so you kept quiet about it. It felt obvious that regardless of what you two were now, as soon as his soulmate came along, he would probably ditch you for them and the idea, as much as you tried to avoid it, pained you a little bit. You’d never felt as happy as you were when you were with him.

You’d been excited for your last Quidditch game of the year, especially as you knew that Charlie would be cheering you on the whole time. You wanted to impress him, as well, despite yourself and so you tried your hardest to play your best. It was going well, all and all, until you were hit by a rogue bludger. You should’ve been paying more attention and so you cursed yourself when you’d been knocked from your broom. To say you were quite relieved that you caught the broom before you fell would be an understatement. And with the cheers of the crowd around you to spur you on, you managed to climb back on and continue playing. You’d completely forgotten about it with the excitement of the rest of the match – and winning, to your surprise. Charlie hadn’t though.

Alone in the changing rooms whilst everyone else was celebrating, you moved your shoulder back and forth, wincing as you realised that the bludger would definitely leave a bruise. You’d only been there a moment before Charlie barged in with a worried look in his dark eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked at him as he came closer, mouth opening and closing slowly.

“Yeah, Charlie, I’m fine. It was-“

“Thank god.” He said, pulling you into a tight hug. You went rigid for a moment in his bulky arms before you relaxed into the unexpected embrace. “Are you hurt?”

He pulled back, hands resting on your upper arms. The concern in his voice and the warmth of his hands left you slightly breathless. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears.

“I’m fine.” You said softly, smiling. “Might have a nasty bruise, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Show me.”

You rolled your eyes at his insistence, though you were touched at his concern. So much so, you absentmindedly pulled down your Quidditch uniform to reveal your shoulder, something you’d never done before. You shivered as his fingers skimmed your skin before a breathless whisper left his lips.

“No way.”

“What?” you asked, blinking away the feeling of Charlie that had so consumed you. Almost instantly, you realised your mistake. “Oh!”

Trying to undo what had already been done, you yanked your robes back over your shoulder, hiding the symbol from view.

“It’s a dragon,” He said ever so softly, seemingly stunned.

“Charlie, I-“

“Y/N, I love dragons.”

Still attempting to preserve whatever was left of you and Charlie’s relationship, your mind raced at a mile a minute thinking about how he would react to your soulmate, a topic you’d never spoken about together. You were so distracted you almost missed what he said.

“What?”

“I’m surprised I didn’t mention it,” he looked from your covered shoulder to your equally shocked expression. “My family says I never bloody shut up about them. That’s what I want to do after Hogwarts, actually, working with dragons in Romania.”

Unable to form a coherent thought, your lips reacted before your brain had the chance.

“Are you taking the piss?”

Charlie barked a laugh, stepping closer to you.

“I knew I always felt something different around you.” He said with a decidedly gleeful look on his face as he shrugged. “Makes sense, really.”

“Soulmates.” You brushed your hair out of your face with both hands. “Tonks is gonna have an absolute field day with this.” His lips twitched. “I’ve spent years telling her that I was gonna choose who I wanted to love and soulmates were a bunch of rubbish-“

“Should I be offended?” he asked, stepping closer again. Your chest tightened slightly at the proximity.

“Well, no. I decided about a month ago that my soulmate could piss off and you were all I wanted.”

He didn’t say anything; an amused smile lifting his cheeks at your rambling.

“It was a bit of an up yours to the universe, actually.”

You inhaled sharply as his hands gently held your waist.

“Turns out the joke is on me-“ His fond expression cut you off.

“Soulmates, eh?” you asked, looking into his eyes. Before you could utter another nervous syllable, he moved forward and captured your lips in a kiss. You leant backwards; his hands pulling your waist into him as your hands disappeared into his unruly red curls. Pulling at them slightly, he moaned into your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile in response. You pulled away, deciding that breathing would be a fun activity for your both to enjoy. You panted, your breaths mingling together as an ear-splitting grin grew on his face.

“I think, love,” he said, pressed a chaste peck to your lips. “That it’s time I told you a bit more about dragons.”

[artificialqueens]

Grow As We Go (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Denali and Rosé face some ups and downs as they wait for their baby to be born.

A/N: This is another idea that came into my head and just had to be written. It’s pretty much all fluff, and I really hope you enjoy! Please leave some feedback if you like, I really appreciate it! Thank you to Writ for beta-ing!

Title from the song by Ben Platt.

Read on AO3.

“Can you look at it?” Rosé asks fearfully. “I just—maybe if you do it—“

“I got it.” Denali quickly rises off the bathroom floor and grabs the pregnancy test off the counter. She knows Rosé is hoping that if Denali looks at it first this time, it will bring good news. Not like the last two tries.

She resumes her position at Rosé’s side, leaning against the bathtub. Rosé’s legs are pulled up to her chest and she’s chewing her lip to shreds. Denali slides an arm around her shoulders.

“Whatever happens, it’s okay,” Denali says softly.

Rosé gives a stiff nod, squeezing her eyes shut so she can’t peek, and Denali turns the test over, the tiny thing like lead in her hand.

The world is silent except for Denali’s heart pounding in her chest. The air is thick with tension, the knowledge that once she reads what the test says, there’s no unreading it, no changing or undoing the information. Either Rosé is pregnant, or she’s not, and the whole world teeters on the edge of this stick. Denali doesn’t breathe as she stares at the test, trying to make sense of the pale blue lines—they really should’ve picked the test that just tells you if you’re pregnant or not—and matching it to the instructions on the box.

“Rosie,” she gasps, “Rosie, it’s positive!”

Green eyes fly open, not daring to hope just yet. “Are you sure? Should we do another?”

“I’m sure, baby.”

She opens her arms and pulls Rosé into them, everything full of hugs and kisses and excitement because they’re having a baby.

—

Rosé is really sick of starting each morning with her head in the toilet.

She always thought morning sickness was just something that popped up in pregnancy montages in movies, not something that would send her running to the bathroom every day, Denali trailing behind her to keep the hair off her face and rub her back.

Rosé groans as she releases her shaky grip on the sides of the toilet, leaning back and taking a glass of water from a worried Denali.

“Thank you.” Rosé sighs, grimacing at the bitter taste lingering in her mouth. “I’m sorry you have to start every day watching me puke my guts out.”

“Hey, we’re in this together, remember? A little vomit won’t scare me away.” Denali wipes sweat off Rosé’s forehead with a cold washcloth, and Rosé melts into the touch. “The doctor said the morning sickness should go away soon.”

“Fuck, I hope so.” She doesn’t want to complain, because she wanted this, knew she wanted to carry their baby. But she’s really sick of puking.

“I wish I could help you more,” Denali says wistfully. She keeps the washcloth in place, eyes scanning over Rosé’s face, searching for any signs of pain or anything wrong. The love Denali has for her warms Rosé’s heart, even if it’s a little strange to see her so cautious, so careful.

Denali’s no stranger to stress or anxiety or intense focus, to long hours perfecting everything she does. But she also has no trouble climbing on a pile of books, which are in turn piled on top of a chair, to change a lightbulb, or walking around with a self-bandaged broken toe, because ‘I’m at three months without an urgent care visit, Rosie, and why break the streak?’ She’s the reason their medicine cabinet is as well-stocked as a hospital supply closet, the reason ‘we can’t have nice things, Denali,’ after deciding that turning cartwheels was a valid way to test the size of their kitchen and knocking over a row of wine glasses.

Rosé’s the one who reaches for her soup recipe when Denali so much as sniffles, the one who insists on all the urgent care visits, just to be safe. A kind of nervous care she always has for Denali even if she herself is guilty of going to work when she should take a sick day, never wanting anything to stop her. The pregnancy has changed things, and now Denali takes notes at Rosé’s doctor’s appointments and looks at her in worry anytime Rosé has a cramp. Rosé’s just going to let herself be cared for, because there’s no one else she’d rather have care for her.

Rosé manages a smile, squeezing Denali’s hand. “You do help me. So, so much, Denali. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m just being dramatic.”

Denali opens her mouth in mock surprise. “You being dramatic? I never would have guessed!”

Rosé swats at her gently.

“Really, though, you deserve to be dramatic. I mean, you’re carrying a baby, Rosie. Like, a little human.”

It feels special, to hear it like that. It’s been frustrating for Rosé to move slower than she normally does, to back out of their normal weekend shopping trips because she’s just so tired. Frustrating to feel so useless, barely able to help Denali make dinner without having to go to the bathroom every five minutes or take a break because her legs are sore. Part of her wants to push through, do the things she normally does. But she’s learning to give in, to let herself rest while Denali dotes on her, because it’s not just her anymore. She has a little human inside her.

Their little human.

“I love you,” Rosé says.

“I love you too.”

—

Rosé surveys the walls of the nursery, plotting out the arrangements for the jungle animal decals. Denali had painted the walls a soft pastel yellow last week while Rosé watched, because Denali was afraid of her being around the fumes. ‘I’m not gonna huff the paint, Denali, I just want to help,’ Rosé had insisted, because it wasn’t fair to make Denali do all the work, but she gave in and sat in the hallway without much of a fight. She’s always been cautious, and she can’t let anything happen to the baby.

Even if they’re getting the nursery ready, it still feels a little surreal, a little hard to believe that in a few more months, there’ll be a baby to fill it. Her belly is starting to grow, and she has to lean over it to kiss Denali on the cheek.

“We’re really doing this,” she whispers. There were moments after the negative tests when she thought they’d never get here, that the spare bedroom would forever be a spare bedroom, home to odds and ends and the occasional house guest. But now it’s really happening, and Rosé rests a hand on her stomach for proof.

“I know.” Denali leans her head on Rosé’s shoulder, and they stand there together, looking at the walls and picturing everything that will happen in this room. They’ll read to their baby here every night, each trying to outdo the other with ridiculous voices for the characters. They’ll play in here together, sprawled out on the rug laughing with joy. They’ll—

“Guess who’s here, bitches!” Jan’s voice booms down the hall, killing the moment.

The baby kicks, and Rosé rubs her stomach in sympathy. “Poor thing, not even born yet and Jan’s already giving you a headache.”

Denali thought it would be fun to invite their friends to help, but as Jan, Lagoona, Olivia, Utica, Symone, and Kahmora pack themselves into the nursery, the real fun is going to be seeing how many people they can possibly fit in here.

Olivia asks about a hundred questions; Utica gives long-winded answers to all of said questions; Jan and Lagoona argue about turning screws clockwise as they assemble the crib, the argument reaching its peak when Lagoona storms out of the room and comes back with the clock off the hallway wall to prove her point; Kahmora takes an hour to find a spot for one decal; and Symone is the only one who actually gets anything done, artfully arranging books and stuffed animals in a magazine-worthy spread.

When everyone finally leaves, the hall clock replaced and slightly crooked, Rosé and Denali sink to the floor of their baby’s room and let themselves dream.

—

Rosé’s sisters took their baby shower planning very seriously, and Denali’s eyes keep bouncing around the place, taking in the decorations and balloons and perfect dessert table with perfect pastel cupcakes and perfect pastel macaroons. They even got a freaking chocolate fountain.

Guests rush up to them, nearly trampling Denali in their hurry to kiss and hug Rosé and ask her all about the baby. Denali hangs off to the side, watching and hating the way everyone rubs their hand over Rosé’s baby bump without even asking her. Rosé would say yes anyway—she’s always craving touch and physical affection—but Denali still wishes they would ask. Wishes they wouldn’t treat Rosé like some novelty act, passing her around to each other to touch and commenting on how well she looks at this stage, like it’s any of their business, like her first priority should be how good she looks while seven months pregnant. Denali knows they mean well, but she hates it. And she hates how in public, people’s eyes go right to Rosé and blow past Denali, how often they ask Rosé where her husband is. Like Denali isn’t even there. Like the baby is Rosé’s only. She’s not jealous, not at all—especially not when every part of Rosé’s body aches, when her moods go up and down, when she’s exhausted but struggles to sleep. And Rosé is pregnant, after all—she deserves to have people fussing and fawning over her. But it’s like people don’t see Denali as part of this family, don’t see her as a mom, and it hurts especially now.

“Are you okay?” Rosé asks, and Denali’s heart melts. Even at her own baby shower, she’s still worried about Denali. “Did something make you upset, or uncomfortable?”

“I—“ She doesn’t want to do it here, in front of everyone, but part of her can’t hold back, can’t stop the feelings from running across her face, and Rosé notices, because she always notices.

“Hey, let’s go outside a second, okay? Get you some air?”

Denali nods numbly, letting Rosé lead her outside. The February air is cool on her face, and she didn’t know how hot she was until now.

“You don’t have to talk,” Rosé says gently, “but I’m here.”

She’s always here for Denali, and a rush of affection hits her. “It’s–you’re pregnant,” Denali blurts, every deep emotion betraying her with one of the most obvious statements of the century.

“Wow, really? I had no idea!” Rosé grins, rubbing her stomach, and it eases Denali’s tension, reminds her everything’s okay. “Did I do something?” Rosé asks, serious again.

“No, no!” Denali says quickly. “It’s not you at all.”

It’s not Rosé’s fault, and Denali won’t let her think it for a second. Rosé has been so good about it, always introducing Denali as her wife and telling everyone how excited they both are to be mothers. It’s not her fault she’s the one people direct all their questions to.

Denali takes a breath and continues. “It’s just … you’re pregnant. You’re the one having the baby, and sometimes people just–they make me feel like it’s your baby. Like I’m not part of it.”

Rosé nods intently, gaze turning sad as she listens. “I’m so sorry, Denali.”

Denali shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m not mad, it’s just … hard.” Part of regrets saying it, of putting this extra stress on Rosé when she’s dealing with enough, but another part of her is glad to have it out there, take the weight off her shoulders.

“Let me tell you something.” Rosé’s voice is firm now, and she takes Denali’s hands in a fierce grip. “This is our baby, Denali. Ours. You’re my wife. You’re the one holding my hair back when I puke and coming to all the doctor’s appointments and childbirth classes, and you’re the one who’s gonna be there for this baby and love them their whole life. Don’t ever think you’re not part of this, okay? You’re my wife, and I don’t care what anyone says, you’re our baby’s Mama.”

She lets Rosé hug her then, her arms fighting away all the doubts and fears she has, all the memories of peoples’ questions and stares.

“I love you, Rosie,” Denali breathes into Rosé’s neck. “You’re gonna be such an amazing mom. Seriously. I need to get my motivational speeches on your level,” she adds, pulling out of the hug with a smile.

Rosé grins too. “We’re both gonna be amazing, okay?”

Denali nods, and she believes it. She and Rosé have always balanced each other out perfectly, Denali getting Rosé to loosen up when she’s stressed, Rosé calming the chaos often brewing inside Denali. They could each be firm when the other needed encouragement, soft when they needed comfort. They can do this, and there’s no one else Denali would want to do it with. “Yeah, we are.”

“Good.” Rosé leans over and gives Denali a gentle forehead kiss. “Do you think anyone will notice if I take a cupcake from the dessert table? I really, really want one.”

Denali snorts, taking her hand. “Let’s go back inside, I’ll steal you all the cupcakes you want.”

—

Denali wakes slowly, blinking through the warm layers of sleep. Rosé is still sleeping beside her, and though Denali wants to surprise Rosé with pancakes in bed, she decides to wait. The back aches have been keeping Rosé up lately, Denali staying up with her watching home renovation shows and stroking her hair until she manages to drift off. She didn’t fall asleep until after 1am last night, and Denali wants her to get as much rest as she can.

They’re so close now. Just over a month away. Denali carefully pulls the blankets back up over Rosé, marveling at the swell of her belly. Pretty soon, they’re going to meet their baby, after all these months of waiting and the two tries before this. Denali remembers how awful those days were, how they had sat breathlessly on the bathroom floor, the pregnancy test shaking in Rosé’s hands as she looked at it. How she kept looking from the test to the box, checking and rechecking the results, how her face fell when she realized she hadn’t misread the negative result. The silence that came after, when Rosé couldn’t get the words out but Denali knew anyway. Rosé insisted she must have done something wrong somehow, her eyes filling with tears even though she never cried, and nothing Denali said could convince Rosé that it wasn’t her fault. But the worst part was that she wouldn’t let Denali wipe her tears for her, like she was afraid something was wrong with her and didn’t want Denali to catch that wrongness. Denali stayed at her side, watching Rosé sniffle and struggle to compose herself, until she finally slipped into her arms and let Denali hold her.

But that didn’t happen this time, Denali reminds herself now. She’s firmly in the present, watching Rosé sleep, red hair a tangled sprawl across her pillow. She’s so beautiful, even in her sleep, and Denali wonders if the baby will look like her, with red hair and green eyes and a wide smile. She’d love a little Rosie running around, she really would. But she wonders if the baby will get any of her too. They had picked a donor that they joked could’ve been Denali’s brother—dark hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, even dimples, for crying out loud. Will the baby have any of those traits, pieces of Denali even if Denali didn’t pass them on herself?

This is their baby, no matter how they look, and Denali can’t wait to teach them things, to share all the parts of herself. She wants to teach them to ride a bike, and ice skate, and make perfect chocolate chip cookies. She wants to help them find adventure and be brave and show kindness. She wants to give their baby all the love in the world, no matter what.

“I love you, baby,” she whispers to Rosé’s belly.

Denali stays in bed, cleaning out emails, until the mattress shifts and Rosé’s eyes flutter open, instantly searching for Denali and brightening when they see her.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Denali teases.

Rosé gives a sleepy smile, snuggling deeper into her pillow and reaching her hands out for Denali to join her. It takes a lot of rearranging, with all the pillows Rosé’s been using to help her back, but they manage, cuddling close together and breathing each other in.

“Let’s have pancakes for breakfast,” Rosé says eagerly.

Denali smiles. “You read my mind.”

—

The first contraction comes like a lightning strike after they’ve put away the dinner dishes one Tuesday night, a bolt that shatters the fragile balance between pregnancy and birth, before and after, and shoves them toward the latter. They’re flying down the drop of a roller coaster after months of climbing to the top, and it’s more real than it’s ever been. Denali wants to panic, frozen at the whimpers Rosé is letting out, but her wife needs her. She pushes away her panic, grabs the bag they packed at the eight-month-mark, and squeezes Rosé’s hand as they head to the car.

She doesn’t let go until the nurses put a brown-haired, green-eyed baby girl in her arms.

—

It’s their first night home with Charlotte, and the air feels fragile. There’s no monitor to scream if anything goes wrong, no nurses just a moment away if they need something. They’re on their own now. On their own, but not alone. Because they have each other.

Rosé wanted to have the crib in their room, just for tonight, to soothe both their minds, and Denali agreed. This way they’re sure to hear her if she cries, and they’re only a half-step away. Rosé knows Charlotte will have to sleep in her room tomorrow, but for tonight, she’s here, and Rosé is perched on the edge of the bed, just watching her sleep. She’s absolutely perfect, with thick, dark hair like Denali and a tiny dimple in her chin like Rosé.

After everything, after all the tests and appointments and waiting, their baby is finally here, and she’s worth absolutely all of it.

“We should sleep, Rosie,” Denali says, sliding next to her.

“I know,” Rosé says. “I just–I just want to watch her a little longer.”

“A little longer,” Denali agrees, and she rests her head on Rosé’s shoulder as they marvel over their baby girl.

[violett-writes]

Monotone Donations

"Are you and Dream dating?" Your monotone slightly British text to talk reads off the $10 donation from alexiscarter3215.

You laugh, blushing slightly at the question as you continue to build your trusty restaurant on the Dream SMP server. You and Dream have been friends for about a year now. You had built a small friendship with George when he introduced the two of you, claiming you to be the 'woman version of Dream'. And it's just skyrocketed from there. You were introduced to Sapnap, who complained at being the last one introduced in the Dream Team. Then Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur, Niki, and so many more people. It made your head spin, honestly. You jumped from being a semi-small streamer to having a solid fanbase.

"Thank you for the dono, alexiscarter3215." You smile at your facecam, holding up a little heart. The chat goes wild, whizzing past too fast to read but you're sure they're upset that you didn't answer their question.

You had to think about it for a second. You two sure acted like you were dating. Between the constant guest appearances on each other's streams, the twitter flirting, and the Minecraft beds next to each other on his server, you could see why others would be confused. But you weren't dating. You mean, you two did facetime every night and he did know all your secrets. But you don't even know what he looks like yet and....

Shit. You have a fat crush on Dream. The realization that you finally admitted it to yourself making you pause slightly before your phone buzzes, a notification from Twitter. You spot Dream's username and pause your game. "Let's find out what Dream tweeted folks." You tell your stream, planning on ending it soon anyways so this was the perfect segway to wrapping it up. You're thankful for the distraction as you weren't even sure what you were going to say next.

!TWITTER!

Dream @.Dream

proud to say i haven't lost no simp september 😤👏🏻 but can't say the same for @.nightmare

You read it aloud, blush covering your face and you thank your shitty camera quality for once. Hopefully your small face cam in the corner of the screen was too tiny for your viewers to see the pink tint to your cheeks.

"What do you think I should reply, guys?" You ask your stream, leaning in to see the chat. Most of the suggestions were either to profess your love for him or were to meme him. You chose the later, as you weren't 100% sure if he liked you back.

"Okay, okay, we'll meme him." Your fingers expertly move across the screen before you press tweet. "Go blow it up guys." You set your phone down and make your facecam the only thing viewers can see on the stream.

"That'll be the end of my stream for today! Thank you all for joining and remember, don't you dare lose no simp september to block men!" You wave goodbye to your viewers, raiding Sapnap quickly before leaning back in your chair, sighing loudly. You hear another ding from your phone.

Dream @.Dream

proud to say i haven't lost no simp september 😤👏🏻 but can't say the same for @.nightmare

Night @.nightmare

no ❤️

Dream @.Dream

:(

You giggle at his tweet, liking it as a text from him quickly follows.

dweam

how dare you not simp for me?

night

I should say the same to you Big D

You giggle, stealing Tommy's nickname from him. You watched enough of Tommy to remember all the different names he has used for Dream.

dweam

okay, pls lose my number

night K.

You giggle, biting your nails slightly as you wait for his reply. Instead of a text, you get an incoming facetime from him. You decline his call, choosing to keep the bit going. After a few moments, you get a facetime from Sapnap. You answer it, confused as to why he would be calling you out of the blue.

"Answer Dream." Was all he said before hanging up. You laugh loudly, covering your mouth so as to not wake your housemates before deciding to take the bit to twitter.

!TWITTER!

Night @.nightmare

i hate men. dhmu. only the real ones know.

Dream facetimes you again and you pick up sniffling slightly.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay??? I didn't mean it. I saw your tweet, please... I didn't mean it." He says, concerned as he hides his face from the camera.

You finally break, laughing loudly as you put the camera down so you can hold your stomach, wheezing. "Dream, bud. I was just joking around." You hear him let out a sigh of relief.

"You should come to Florida." He suddenly states, making you choke on the sip of water you were drinking.

"Uh..." You pause for a moment.

"I mean if you're uncomfort-"

"Yes." You cut him off, smiling into the camera brightly. "Yes, I will come to Florida."

The next two weeks were a blur, Dream insisted on paying for your ticket to fly to Florida. And when the boys found out that you were visiting without asking them first, they were super jealous. So jealous, in fact, that they both booked flights that phone call. They were nice enough to give you two days alone with Dream, but only after an awkward amount of silence and a lot of text notifications where you're pretty sure Dream threatened to leave their ass at the airport if they didn't come later. Your knowledge of this only coming from the screenshots George sent you of Dream's threats.

The day of the flight, you were incredibly nervous. You had picked a soft plum colored sweatshirt with simple black leggings and converes. You wanted to dress up a little, but you also knew that you would be uncomfortable the whole flight if you did. Hopefully Dream didn't mind you dressing down for the first in person meeting with him.

night

leaving now for the airport. wish me luck

You send the text and shut your phone off as you enter the uber. A short 30 minute drive later and you're walking through the airport. You smile slightly, airports seem like they exist in a different dimension all together. You don't judge someone having a drink at 9 a.m. at an airport, because well... they're in an airport. You buy a water once you get past security, drinking it nervously as you wait for your flight to be called.

After a 30 minute wait, your flight is finally called. You finally reach your window seat and check your phone.

dweam

i hope u don't die.

night

how kind of u. we're leaving now :))) see u soon!!!!!

You smile and turn off your phone, leaning back and closing your eyes as you drift off.

The kind old lady seated next to you shakes you awake, telling you that you're landing soon. You flush red, not realizing that you slept through the whole flight. You probably looked ridiculous.

Once you land, you quickly pull out your phone and turn it on. You notice that you had 3 unread messages from Dream.

dweam

i'm so kind

but fr i hope u have a safe flight.

text me when u land. i got here a little early... guess i was just too excited

night

we just landed!!!

You blush at the connotation of his text. He was genuinely excited to see you? When everyone was finally able to leave their seats, you grab your overhead luggage and make your way off the plane. You make your way to the baggage claim and watch the bags intently, waiting for your polka dot bag to show itself.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and you turn around, coming face to face with a very tall blonde man.

"Oh- sorry, am in your way?" You mumble, moving over for them to grab their luggage.

"(Y/N)?" He asks you, his voice unsure and hesitant.

Your eyebrows raise in shock and you turn around again, looking at him closely. You cover your mouth in shock, "D-Dream?" You ask for a moment, unsure if this is real.

He nods, laughing and you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. Tears start to come to your eyes as he hugs you back tightly. You pull back so that you could look up at his face, but still keeping your arms wrapped around him. "Dream!" You sniffle, your voice a little scratchy from holding back the tears.

"(Y/N)! Are you crying?" He asks, laughing. He is so much more attractive than you could have ever imagined. You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you hit his chest lightly.

"Don't make fun of me. This is easily the best thing that has happened in my life." You giggle softly, looking back at the conveyer belt to see your bag. You quickly rush to grab it before it disappears on you.

You turn back to Dream, your bag trailing behind you as you pull it along. Dream grabs your carryon much to your complaints.

"I got it, (Y/N), don't worry." He chuckles, his deep voice making butterflies appear in your stomach. As the two of you walk to his car, chatting excitedly about what the plans are for the week, Dream grabs your free hand, linking your fingers together. Blush creeps up your neck as you pretend nothing is different. Once you reach his car, Dream grabs both of your luggage and puts them in the trunk as you get into the passenger side.

"So, I don't know if you rented a hotel room or something..."He trails off, tapping the steering wheel nervously.

Your eyes widen slightly, you didn't know he wanted you to. "Oh! I, uh, I totally forgot. I can book one right now, though. No biggie." You quickly pull out your phone, panicking a little as you search hotels near me.

Dream pushes your phone away, chuckling. "No, no. (Y/N), you don't have to. I didn't mean it like that. I just wasn't sure if you were comfortable staying at my apartment."

You let out a sigh of relief. "Of course I'm fine with that you dork." You punch his arm softly, "I thought for a second you didn't want me there!" You tease him.

Dream feigns being hurt by your punch before gently grabbing your hand again. "Of course I want you there." He mutters softly.

The words set your stomach aflame as your intestines tie themselves into a knot. He wanted you there.