#you’d think reading it once before would’ve prepared me but alas

[spliqi]

ayatsuji really went from “in my eyes all human life is equally meaningless” to becoming a literal fugitive because he was so scared tsujimura was going to die. what do i even say

[imaginesofeverykind]

Viper’s Pit |A.T|

Recently widowed, you, Vaela Targaryen return home different than when you left several years ago, Aemond is determined to find out why.

Targaryen!Reader x Aemond

WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, canon typical abuse, mentions of SA, unwilling betrothal, murder, vulgarity. MDNI !

I very much tried to write this in the realms of how women are treated as such in the canon of the show, I do not divulge in detail but there are sprinkles of discussion that might be difficult or uncomfortable to read which is why im taking the extra step to put this warning in addition to the warnings on top here.

Im on the fence about a part 2 :SS so let me know what yall think!!

— - ——- — - ——- — - ——- - —

Today had been that day the tides shifted, the sun shone brightly on Kings Landing, the clouds were nowhere to be seen other than the horizon of which the direction of the wind blew. The Royal party stood in preparation in front of the keep of your arrival, their most crowned jewel it appeared which would have you scoffing in the effort that was thrown for you.

“How do you think she fairs now? Still a brute, no doubt.” Aegon smirked as he whispered lowly to his one-eyed brother and Sister Queen. Purposefully out of earshot of their dowager mother who would’ve reprimanded him had she heard the insults he hurled toward his own twin.

“The only brute in this family has been you, dear brother,” Aemond smiles to himself, looking to the side at his sister to see Helaena share a faint smile at his comment. It was true the younger siblings and even nephews were fond of you than Aegon ever would be. Born mere moments before he was, you were everything he couldn’t live up to in the eyes of his mother and King Father. Though, you’d argue there was much more he didn’t see behind the scenes.

Duty was never prevalent through you, so much so you took to the yard to spar over embroidery or flower arranging. It enraged your mother that you simply refused to answer the call of duty and be the Princess she wanted you to be, though stern she never hated you and that was clear. Even when you were shipped off to Dorne at a young age to keep an alliance, you slowly understood that your mother didn’t do this out of spite or hatred or malice. Even if you were barely ten and four.

The conquerors Queen, Visenya was a woman who you looked up to, stoic and stern, a warrior Queen who kept her close comrades closed in an ironfist and bloodied her sword with her enemies. Perhaps this had been why you took to the sword over all else, training instead of sleeping and sparring instead of fulfilling the duties of a Princess.

So much that the muscles built over a short time was something a proper woman would never adorn with such pride.

Big enough to push around your twin brother and mediate the family squabbles was a feat that even Ser Criston Cole couldn’t always win over.

But alas, the minute your first blood arrived you were sent as an offering to secure the most attractive alliance at the time, which happened to be Dorne and it had been six years since you set foot in King’s Landing.

You weren’t cold when in this time only your younger brother and sister wrote to you, you missed the death of your own father, the maiming of your now one-eyed brother and the coronation of your twin. But you didn’t care, you experienced life outside of the confines of King’s Landing, but the Gods seek you out for a different fate as you once again arrived at the company of your family and the royal party, to live here after the untimely death of your lord husband, empty handed with no children.

“My dearest Vaela, welcome home.” The sound of your mothers voice was almost unrecognisable, but she stood proud with your siblings, all who have grown into their Targaryen features much like you had. After such a long time away from the Capital, it felt like you were being released back into a cage of unfed dragons, unsure of your fate.

Much to Aegon’s dismay, no longer were you a towering menace of pure muscle to bolster such physical power over him. If he had to guess, you were just short of Aemond’s towering height, in fact if he didn’t know better he would say you and the Cruel Prince looked more like twins than he and you did. Your silver hair was straight, and laid down over your shoulders stopping just at the waist, and the way you filled your dress wasn’t how he expected either. Coming from the hot environment of Dorne meant you wore more exposing items of clothing and sheer silks which didn’t go unnoticed by most of the Royal Party.

Regardless of attire, you still looked of Royalty and like a Princess, more than when you had left.

“Mother.” You curtly bowed your head, eyes settling on the two younger siblings. A wholesome smile pulled at your lips as you brought a hand to each face, caressing delicately, “my sweet sister, my dear brother.” Your voice was soft and loving, no amount of distance could separate the love you had for both Helaena and Aemond.

It was improper to greet The Queen like this but no one intervened nor took action, it was also the only time Aemond would openly allow such affection to show to the public and onlookers. The two of you were close growing up, it made sense that the bonds were never severed and the love remained.

Your eyes flitted to your twin, adorning the Conquerors crown which had caused a shallow scoff, he had not a single ounce of Aegon I in him and he was as pathetic as the man you were sent off to wed. Leeching from the powers he was handed to on a silver platter for being the firstborn son, a man. The only difference between you and him was that you had tits and a cunt and he had a prick, laughable really.

“Your grace,” you lazily bow your head, vitriol falling from your lips as you walk toward the Red Keep, counting the days until you're sent off again to ‘fulfill duty’.

Aemond had a sly smile on his lips, watching you walk away. He was grateful the fire hadn’t extinguished within you after all these years and you were still unmoving in your distaste toward your twin despite the crown that lay upon his silver head.

“Hypocrite.” Aegon muttered, shouldering past the young Prince as he stalked up to the Red Keep. The King was enraged the day Visery’s had died, the manhunt to find him and ready him for a coronation before his half sister seized the throne was the day Aemond reminded him of his duty to his wife and duty to the Realm. It was all about duty with the one-eyed Prince, so much of it being beaten into the oldest son by all around him it was hard not to harbor resentment when his sister could freely break the rules in the Prince's presence without a shroud of ramification like he had to endure.

Lunch with the family had been just as tense as the moment you arrived, sitting beside Aegon who despite being the King didn’t sit at the heads of the table, they seemed to be reserved for your grandfather and mother. An interesting choice, you pondered.

“We are sorry about the news of your lord Husband.” Alicent started, reaching across the table and outstretching what you assumed to be a comforting gesture. In a different world you might’ve taken comfort in your mother, she was always plotting and scheming while the maidens looked after the children, it was a wonder you had all ended up the way you did. Yet you could empathise, she was a pawn in your grandfathers greed and was forced into a loveless marriage which did more harm than good.

You quirked a brow, taking a sip of your wine, “I am not.”

The table had stopped, looking to you for elaboration which made you reluctant to indulge. Your family didn’t even bother coming to your wedding, to check on your wellbeing so how would they know the cruel fate you had been thrusted upon. The only respite from the torturous marriage was the people who had allowed you your freedom to do as you please.

“My princess, you cannot mean such a thing.” Otto had noticed the stillness in the air, he had advised your mother to not let you return after such a long time knowing that it would stir discourse. Alicent said otherwise, offering a tempting compromise upon your arrival should you behave.

“I was barely a woman when I was sent to marry a man thrice my age… No family to see me off to this man, no family to hear the screams of a child when she was bedded that same night. There was no love, no compassion. It would have been more kind to have me fed to a dragon than to be abandoned in the snakepit.” Your tone was cool and eerily calm, a testament on how broken in you had become over the years. Your siblings eyes were full of sorrow, even Aegon had some shred of sorrow in there which was unbecoming of even him.

“And now I return home, hollow welcomes as I’m taken from the viper pit and put into a dragon’s den. If it is broken, you wish to see me as then I’m afraid you missed your chance the moment I was wedded.” You brought the cup back to your lips and finished the rest of the wine, the taste souring in your mouth along with your mood. Excusing yourself before even Alicent had a chance to speak.

She was beside herself after the lunch, only now realizing the consequences of her past decisions at the behest of her father. It was Otto after all that suggested removing the boisterous Princess in fear that she may become like the ‘Realm’s Delight’, Rhaenyra and seek to take the throne from her brother. He could see her ambitious nature, mistaking her want to be a knight as motivation to rule the realm.

It was clear upon her arrival that he was sorely mistaken and misjudged her intentions of only a young age.

“Mother you cannot undo what has already been done… Vaela is headstrong and stubborn and she has been burnt by this family, but she does not harbor hatred for you.” Aemond, ever so calmly soothing his mother like he always had done. It was no wonder, she confided in him so often and looked to him for counsel, he was simply magnificent with his words.

“How could you possibly know? She barely greeted me at the gates, barely spoke a word to your brother—“

“Because I know it to be true!”

You had always come to your brother's defense when it involved petty sibling tussles, it was only a shame you were gone before his maiming in Driftmark, perhaps if you had been there things might’ve been different. It was owed to you, that he do the same, defend you in this moment, not that he could accurately compare the amount of times you stuck your neck out for him.

“Vaela has never shared hatred for you, dear Mother… I may only have one eye but I am not blind to the slights of my siblings, all three resent responsibility and perhaps even the King past. You must understand that she is wounded and abandonment has hardened her over the years… Do not mistake this coldness as hatred.”

Right he was, as you sat in the Royal Gardens every day in an attempt to soak in the Sun’s warm and comforting embrace, thrusting onto you the peace you so desired since you entered the Kingdoms capital several days ago. In this time you had noticed the increased array of religious paraphernalia which you had no doubt in your mind was thanks to your mothers devotion to The Seven.

At least she seeked comfort and refuge in a mostly malignant way, the only quarrelsome part about it all was their unending incessant need to rid the old gods from history.

One of the things that had developed in your time in Dorne was your keen hearing, keeping note of which footsteps belonged to who, but you were back in your old home where everyone stepped differently and you were yet to pick up on who they belonged to.

“I do not wish to be disturbed.” Your voice was calm, eyes closed and back facing the main path from where the person approached. It was too heavy to be Helaena’s or Mothers, you knew that for sure.

“We’ve let you be for a week, dearest sister. You can only sulk and avoid us for so long before duty calls out for you to fulfill.”

It was at least a familiar and mostly friendly voice, despite his cadence being cold and blunt. You knew it was a matter of time before Aegon or Mother sent for you to participate in familial habits of eating together. “I’m not sulking nor am I avoiding, I’m merely enjoying the sun… It’s where I have been every day until the moon rises, you should know, sweet brother, you have watched me long enough.”

He had stiffened at your words, deciphering how you possibly knew when he had been so careful and out of sight. At first merely curious as to what you did when you weren’t breaking bread with the family or meandering the castle. Then it slowly turned to silent admiration and even a hint of protection, he was acutely aware of your harrowing experience in Dorne even if it was based on your words the very first lunch you had. There was more to it than you let on which he was determined to uncover.

You sighed in frustration, sensing the overbearing presence of Aemond and knowing he was as stubborn as you were and one would have to give sooner rather than later, so you relent. Preferring to join him on whatever pointless drow your presence was needed for than sit here in silence where your peace was already disturbed.

“Might I say with the purest intention, that your time away in Dorne has allowed your beauty to flourish.” He had curtly nodded in your direction, once you arose from your seated position and finally faced him. He wishes for you to be comfortable now that you were finally back with family, not tense and looking over your shoulder constantly as he noted in the days of watching you.

A smile befell your lips and you bow your head modestly, “you flatter me, Aemond… Out of all of us children you were beautiful and always will be, sweetling.”

“If you think me beautiful, then you would be the first… Or a fool.”

You came to his side, resting a gentle hand to his cheek, fingers grazing delicately over his scar. Despite being in the solitude of the Gardens and only in the company of the little creatures that resided among the foliage, his swift hand came up to grip your wrist and firmly remove your touch from his face. No matter how much comfort he felt when you were near, and the warmth your touch brought to his skin, he simply didn’t need your pity.

“Oh dearest Aemond… My only regret was that I could not be there to console you after such a cruel slight. But it appears in my absence you have found your own strength, I am proud of you.” You had intended to leave the moment like this, beginning to depart from the orbit of your brother who mistook your admiration as belittling sympathies.

“And what of you? The fire within you was so strong when we were children, and what the Dornish have done is return you like a broken sculpture, shattered from the inside out. How is it, that little vipers snuffed out the fire and blood that runs through you.” In so many words he challenged your strength, calling you weak for returning like you had. More maiden than a warrior, his words suggested. When you left, your muscles were defined, prevalent more than your twin, more than even many highborn lords. But upon your arrival, as beautiful as you were, your frame no longer filled with muscles or boasted physical strength. You looked more like the Dowager Queen and Helaena, not the warrior that he looked up too.

You pondered his words for a moment, weighing your options of insults to throw or even debated saying nothing. His words were aimed to hurt and that was obviously accomplished, your silence made that clear as you still considered what to say next.

Hands clasped behind your back you merely bowed forward, which is something you so often did to vex your mother opposed to curtsying like a real lady should. “Thank you, dear brother. For your kind encouragement.” This was not an argument you intended to engage in, for your own sanity’s sake. But your words were loud and clearly heard, the two extreme poles of your personalities seemingly switching as the years went on.

Aemond inherited your anger, while you inherited his calm demure and in this instance his temper got the better of him. You knew of all things after this interaction he would be embarrassed by this, hoping that this will give him the means to approach you much later in the evening so that you might indulge him in the inner workings of what happened to your ‘spirit’ in the many years since your departure.

Just as you anticipated, the cruel Prince's anger stewed with him through the remainder of the day and even followed him into dinner. It wasn’t just you who had noticed his silence during the feast, where he normally would revel in small insults or quips to humiliate The King, he was quiet and did not engage in conversation even when spoken too.

Dinner was painstakingly long, much akin to a pregnancy it felt like — your thoughts wandered while you took refuge in the Library. You weren’t in the mood to read so you sat quaintly on the balcony that looked over King's Landing and all its beauty. Never, had the keep felt as much of a prison as it did in this moment in your life. You had a taste of life outside of the capital and as harrowing as it might have been, it made you a better person.

There was still time, you had thought about perhaps forsaking your family on your own terms and defecting to Rhaenyra’s campaign, but you have nothing to offer. No title, no dragon, no wealth. Nor did you really like her all that much, it would only serve as an act of rebellion but who was to say that your uncle Daemon would even consider your presence outside the realm of a prisoner or hostage.

“I killed him… My husband, I killed him.” Your words were soft and your eyes still sought out comfort in the darkened swells of buildings below. Aemond was typically a quiet approacher, but much like the garden, you had acquired a keen sense of hearing and it was only out of survival that it got as good as it did.

You didn’t turn to face him, nor did you feel like allowing him to see the melancholic expression that had pulled onto your face.

He didn’t say anything, merely stood a few paces behind in the shadows, he would allow you to speak more, “He was an over-indulgent, greedy cunt. A disgusting pig who wasn’t even in an important dornish house. Yet he laid his hands on me time and time again, and it wasn’t just me. When I wouldn’t bear his children I was treated worse than the common whores he bedded regularly. If I fought back, it was a fate I wouldn’t even wish upon our enemies—.”

“I do not wish to hear more, I have heard enough.” His jaw was clenched as were his hands balled into fists, urging him to take arms and burn all of Dorne with fire and blood.

“His face was buried in the cunt of a whore, ass out of its breaches and cock hard when I sliced it off… And well… After that I knew I wouldn’t make it out of this without consequence and I have no desire to start a war… Then again, I fear that even if I had been murdered or executed for my act of violence I would not be mourned.”

Aemond shifted from his position in the shadows, finally understanding what had changed within you. Much like the other Targaryen children you had an overwhelming sense of neglect when it came to its familial ties. “You wouldn’t just be mourned, my sister. You would be avenged. You will be avenged for such cruelty.”

Finally you look to him, as he kneeled by your side, his eye focused on you, “there is no vengeance to be had. He paid with his life, undignified and no cock. The servants helped me shift the blame, our quarrel is not with the lesser people of Dorne, some still revere our House.”

“You are my sister, we cannot allow such blatant abuse toward our house go unpunished—“

“It is done. And it cannot be undone, I reclaimed what was forcefully taken from me.” Your words were stern, and had no intention of wavering no matter how angry the past years of trauma ached for you to unfurl, “I used to believe that me never having a dragon to claim was because I was weak but I have just as much desire to watch our enemies burn to the ground and I know now, that it is not a dragon that people will fear me for, it will be myself.”

A smile pulled on The Prince's lips, his gaze in admiration and love. Guilty that there was ever a doubt in him that thought for a moment that the sister he aspired to impress as a boy, was gone. Alas, you were still in there, but it is your own mental strength that persevered after all this time and this enrichment is welcome to him. “Then it is done, we will burn our enemies to the ground. All of them… Together.”

“Together.” You mused, reaching over to grab his hand. The hand of the only man to ever provide you a semblance of comfort and a love, a love that extended past the boundaries siblings should have.

[roniscloud]

psh - love affair

park sunghoon [f. 8516 words] love affair

so when i’m gonna know what to feel inside, baby?

maybe it’s just all in my head, so

don’t overthink, this is love

maybe it’s just a crush

baby, is this your love affair, your love affair?

synopsis: what happens when two childhood best friends make a deal to help each other’s reputations? an unforeseen circumstance prompts sunghoon to approach you, intriguing not just you but practically every other student at your college. you believe your reunion with him can only end in one of two ways: you resort back to being friends and go on with your lives, or you use each other and once you’re both done, you fall out and never talk again. how will you two navigate your companionship? is it just the nostalgia coming up? a revival of feelings? a new crush? could it possibly be actual love?

genre + tropes : fluff. comedy. the slightest angst. childhoodbestfriends!au. enemiestolovers!au. college!au. fakedating!au. 

warnings: fem reader. a little swearing. slightly suggestive themes, sorta. a few cliches. mentions of underage drinking. the american collegiate school calendar. does them geeking out over fantasy/sci-fi sagas need a warning? unknown mutual pining. they’re so helplessly clueless of their feelings. also appearances of the rest of enha plus txt.

i. prologue

if someone told you that you would reconnect with your childhood best friend—let alone date him, you would’ve laughed in their face and told them to fuck off. park sunghoon is bad news. well, at least to you he is. one of the infamous campus playboys, you can spot him around the quad flirting with a different girl practically every day. 

but to you, he couldn’t have been anymore unlike the sunghoon you grew up with. you grew up with the sunghoon who couldn’t stand being around others, mind always focused on his own interests. you knew him as the little shy boy who would hide behind his mom whenever new people came around. the first person he opened up to was you. you can blame your mom for that. you can vaguely remember her words, something along the lines of mrs. park and i have been friends for longer than you have been alive. when we found out we were both expecting, we knew you two were destined to be besties. 

she was right. everyone thought you were two peas in a pod. wherever one of you went, the other followed. always stuck together, like true partners in crime. your close bond stuck for years. if anyone needed you, you’d most likely be found in the seats of sunghoon’s ice skating practices and competitions, cheering him on and being obnoxiously loud. likewise, he always attended your showcases, spending hours complimenting your artwork.

but then the villain of everyone’s lifetime eventually appeared. puberty. 

alas, your friendship did what anyone could predict of a couple of preteens entering high school. the usual “no matter what we’re gonna stick together!” leading to “sorry for blowing you off, got really busy,” to the imminent “what happened to us? we used to be so close,” and eventually the end of it all. senior year, the two of you attempted to leave on a good note. by that, you mean your parents made both of you apply to the same colleges to have a chance at sticking together. well, it worked, you got into the same university. funny how the universe does things.

back to present day, you’re now in your second year at hybe university. let’s just say, sunghoon isn’t the only one who went through a personality change. sunghoon traded his late night practices on the ice to one-night stands at frat parties. you, on the other hand, traded your once outgoing and fun-loving persona for a more… cold grunge meets artsy introvert. overall, let’s just say you both have reputations for not being the most approachable people. well at least you still have one thing in common.

ii. the cafe

the busy campus cafe was roaring with study groups filling every table. the aroma of fresh coffee and tea being brewed filling the air, creating a warm atmosphere—contrast to the cold winter weather just outside the walls. the college students scattered around, just like their minds scattered as they prepare for finals. not immune to the dreaded time of year, a group of four boys enter, immediately grabbing the attention of those already nestled inside.

a quick roll call of the four known by the student body as en-4, a combination of the dance crew name enhypen and the notorious f4. lee heeseung—the campus heartthrob, captain of the dance crew, center of the basketball team, and an unknown hopeless romantic. park jongseong, although everyone calls him jay—the resident bad boy and party animal, but those close to him know that he’s actually the responsible one. sim jaeyun, otherwise referred to as jake—the friendly and flirty frat boy who you can catch playing soccer in the quad almost every day. finally, park sunghoon—the handsome heartbreaker. he doesn’t need more of an introduction.

the four of them make their way to the counter, placing their orders. of course jake doesn’t miss his chance to sound extra sweet and send a quick wink to the barista, getting elbowed by heeseung in the process. after getting their drinks, they look around to see almost no where to sit. not a single table to fit all of them was available. 

in one of the tucked away areas, sunghoon spots an empty seat at a smaller table. the only catch was there was someone sitting across from it, hunched forward over her laptop. he can’t see much of her figure but he immediately recognizes her features. it’s you. well, a more mature and grown up you, but he couldn’t forget that face for the life of him.

sunghoon’s feet drag himself across the crowded room, catching the attention from the neighboring groups he passed but sneaking away quiet enough to not alarm his own friends. the three are too caught up arguing about what to do. sunghoon can hear the faint voice of jay suggesting going somewhere else while the other two shoot him down as he walks further away. he makes his way all the way up to your side. you look up, scanning him, confused but unamused. “this seat taken?” the first words he said in a year and half to you. still not not giving him any emotion, you hesitantly shake your head once, immediately bringing your focus back to your essay.

ignoring him only works for so long, his gaze not leaving the top of your head. you can feel his stare piercing into you, finally meeting his eyes. “what’s your deal?” the irritation and bluntness in your tone is all too evident.

he shrugs and answers nonchalantly, “nothing, just go along with it.” his answer is hushed, almost as if he’s a bit embarrassed.

“what are you trying to pull here, park?”

“can i not just sit here and peacefully drink my latte? am i that disturbing to you?”

“considering that the second you started walking in this direction, everyone had their eyes on us, then yes, you are that disturbing.”

“they’re not looking at us.” he pauses before continuing with his rant, “they’re looking at you.”

“and why the hell do you think that is?”

“they’re all trying to figure out what could possibly be so interesting about you that i would choose this seat.” he says it like it’s the most obvious answer.

you scoff and turn to see the lingering stares of the others in the cafe. “well, if it isn’t the god park sunghoon being as humble as ever, gracing me with his presence and having mercy on a peasant like me.” the sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom.

he smiles warmly at your animosity and chuckles. “i’ve always loved your sense of humor.”

“funny cause i’ve always despised yours. i’m gonna ask one more time. what do you want, park?”

he only shrugs. hesitating before responding again, “i like it here. i like talking to you. it’s familiar… comfortable.” he sees your expression change subtly. it’s only for a second before you regain the prior look. he tries to read you. he caught you off guard and his pride brings a smirk to his face. 

by now, he finally tunes back into the situation around him and can feel his phone going off in his jean pocket. he pulls out the phone to see dozens of notifications, quickly stealing a glance back up at you to see that you’re already back to typing away on the previously forgotten assignment. he laughs as he sees the boys blowing up their group chat asking what he was doing. he looks up, finding the three sitting at a cramped booth with shock and confusion written all over them.

“enjoying the attention?” your turn to break the silence. when he turns back to you, you continue, “you’re no stranger to it but you’ve always loved it.” he gives you a slow nod, turning the question back to you. you answer him, “you know that it’s not my forte.”

“and why is that? scared people will get to know the real you?”

“oh please, like you aren’t afraid of me exposing all the dirt i have on you. imagine the buzz i could create with all of your old baby pics.”

he jolts up from his relaxed position, eyebrows raised, and completely on edge, “you wouldn’t dare.”

you lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on the table, cheek resting in your palm, and chuckle, “try me.” the words leaving your mouth quickly and a smile immediately replacing it.

“you’re finally smiling at me. good to know you still have emotions.” he gets you to laugh again. you spend the next 20 minutes catching up. looks like you two kept more in common than you thought. things run smoothly between the two of you, some of your old memories and inside jokes being brought up. “why didn’t this happen sooner?”

“what, us talking? i mean, you and i stopped running in the same crowd and school got the best of us. i will admit, though, freshman year sucked without you.”

he sighs when he hears your admission. “how about this? a proposition. i’m sure you’re aware that i don’t have the best reputation.”

you cut him off, “you can say that again.”

“haha, very funny,” he throws in another sarcastic comment. “you know you’re not exactly the most approachable either. hate to be the one to break it to you but you’re pretty intimidating.” he notices the expression on your face turned into one of annoyance at his last statement, “don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true.”

you dismiss the slight jab, telling him to continue. what you don’t expect is the next four words to come out of his mouth. “go out with me.” he sees your face drop, “oh come on, stop looking at me like that.”

“so i see, a little bit of time without me and you go insane.”

“look, i don’t mean actually date me, i mean… pretend to.”

again, you stare at him like he grew another head. “you want me to fake-date you? what are we, in a k-drama now? sorry hoon, you’re attractive but i would’ve preferred hwang in-youp or song kang.”

now he’s a bit annoyed, answering cockily, “i am so much better looking than them.”

“you wish.”

his jaw drops for a few seconds and then he chuckles. “i’m serious, think about it. we go out and spend time with each other like old times. i don’t look like i’m so incapable of being in a committed relationship and you don’t look like such a loner. no offense.”

“offense taken… but i see your point.”

“see, look at you using that smart brain of yours. this would be no strings attached. just two friends helping each other out while simultaneously deceiving everyone else. i know how much you love tricking others.”

you sit quietly, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “deal.”

iii. bro code

a few days later, sunghoon sits in his shared apartment with the boys, slumped on the couch as they eat dinner. “why are you guys so against it? i thought you wanted to see me in a relationship and now that i’m in one, you guys don’t approve. make it make sense. i should be free to date whoever i want.”

“yeah dude,” pausing to take a bite of his burger, “we get that.” jay answers, seeing how defensive his friend is getting.

jake interejects, “we respect your choices, but like… her? of all the girls that are falling at your feet, you chose her? the one that has no interest in you at all? i know you’re powerful but i don’t get how you managed to pull that off.”

“i feel like you could’ve consulted us about it first. bro code, man.” heeseung says as he shrugs his shoulders and sips on his soda.

“that’s kinda why i like her, because she isn’t all over me like the others. she’s cute and fun to hang out with. just give her a chance. honestly, what’s the worst that could happen? we go out and it doesn’t work. no harm in trying….”

that seems to do the trick as the boys lay off from the topic, going back to their own dinners and watching the latest episode of the penthouse.

later that night, sunghoon leaves their dorm to meet up with you. you agreed earlier that if you needed to meet up and talk that you’d go to the art department. perks of being an art major allows you a studio to spend your time in, secluded from the outside world. in this case, you and sunghoon don’t have to worry about nosy roommates.

when he arrives, he makes sure to take the back entrance like you mentioned. he makes his way through the deserted halls, glancing at each room he passes, and taking note of the various pieces framed along the corridor walls. he gets to the end of the building, finding a studio decorated with your name on the door. he silently enters. you don’t notice him at first with your back against the entrance and the music playing too loud through your airpods, focused on molding the clay on the pottery wheel. he grabs an empty stool, propping it beside you and taking a seat. he takes off one of your airpods, putting it in his own ear.

you finally turn your head towards him, “how long ago did you get here?”

“just now. how long were you waiting?”

you sit up, facing his direction. “i had a couple of classes today and came here to finish some stuff, been here for… what time is it?”

“um… almost 11.”

“then like four hours.”

“you’ve been working on that for four hours? what even is it, and when did you start doing pottery?” he points at the unfinished ceramic.

“not just that. i had some paintings that i needed to finish for my portfolio and those are in a separate room to dry. this,” you refer to the clay, “is just something i’m working on for fun. i got into it cause one of my profs suggested i try another medium.”

he nods along while you explain. “you can keep working on it while we talk.”

you hum in confirmation and turn back to the wheel, rewetting your wands. “so how do we make this believable? seems like people already know. word spreads quick when it comes to you.”

“we just need to act like a couple. so hanging out, going on dates, posting each other here and there, and being affectionate.”

“wow you finally found an excuse to kiss me,” you laugh as you joke with him, him following suit. “sounds reasonable, not much different from how we were as kids, just now we have to call them dates.”

“shouldn’t cause too many problems. just don’t fall in love with me, babe.”

you smile at the new nickname, “likewise, hoon.” you continue throwing the clay, molding it to your desired shape. you hyperfocus on the sculpture, tuning out the boy sitting next to you as he watches—he catches on that you still have the habit of pouting whenever you work on your art. you hunch forward, letting some of your hair fall in front of your face. too caught up, you don’t notice that sunghoon left his seat to stand behind you. he takes your locks and ties it into a messy ponytail. you snap out of your tunnel vision to ask, “why do you just have a hair tie handy?”

“i always had to carry some around for you because you always lost them. i never grew out of it, i guess.” he grins warmly, “do you remember how many times you had complained when you would get paint in your hair and i would have to clean it up for you?”

“how could i forget?” the night ends with more laughs and reminiscing on your childhood. time really does fly faster than you think.

iv. rated pg

the bell rings as you and sunghoon enter the convenience store. you two are discussing the movie you two just watched as you walk through the aisles. 

you split up agreeing to meet back at the register. you make your way to the drinks in the back while sunghoon goes to get snacks. you grab an iced jasmine tea for yourself and an iced vanilla latte for hoon. sunghoon yells over the stands as he browses, “hey, what should i caption for my insta post?”

you respond loudly, “i don’t know, something related to movies.”

sunghoon looks at the picture on his phone: a photo of you two snuggled up in the theater, most of your face hidden in his hoodie. he types in quickly “rated pg for park’s girl <3”, hits post, and goes back to browsing. he goes to grab bento boxes, honey butter chips, candy jellies, and practically everything his eyes landed on. 

when you make it to the cashier, you see sunghoon with his arms full. “you good there, park?”

a muffled “yup” is heard behind all the food.

you look around, walking away when you find what you needed. going closer to him, “why didn’t you just grab a basket?” you start to take some things from his arms, lightening his load. 

“i… uh… didn’t think of it.” he pauses in between, an embarrassed expression adorning his face. you giggle as you take everything to be rung up, missing how his ears turned red. you catch the worker’s name on his tag, jungwon. before you can take out your wallet to pay, sunghoon’s already entering his card into the machine. you whip your head around, ready to tell him off. “nope, do not look at me like that.” you roll your eyes at him as you grab the bag with what you just bought. 

“oh come on… you can’t seriously be mad at me.” no response from you. “really? the silent treatment?” he scoffs jokingly when you cross your arms against your chest. he comes closer to bend down and wrap his arms around your waist. “it’s snacks. it’s not that big of a deal.”

you release yourself from his grasp and walk out of the store, still faking being mad. you mumble, “whatever,” under your beath but still loud enough for him to hear.

he bids jungwon a quick “have a nice night”, not missing him calling the two of you a cute couple. sunghoon meets up with you outside, already sitting on the curb of the parking lot. 

v. pretty boy

the start of a new semester. en-4 are sitting out on the grass of the quad. surrounding them are various groups of students, typical for the buzzing campus on a crisp spring day.

“you need to cook the noodles first. end of discussion.” jake says sternly. he and heeseung are in a heated argument over the proper order of cooking ramen.

heeseung defends himself, “you are so wrong. you make the broth first to build the flavor.”

jay brings his attention up from his phone, “neither of you should be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

out of nowhere, a loud car horn is heard, drawing the attention of every student in the area. sunghoon looks up to find you leaning against the passenger door of your car and yelling, “hey, pretty boy! get in.” he chuckles at both the label and how bossy you sound, turning to his friends to grab his things. the three of them are stunned at him.

jake breaks first, “wait, what?”

heeseung lets go of his argument with the australian, “dude, are you seriously leaving?”

sunghoon only nods as he walks away, not letting them ask any more questions. he notices all the watching eyes and decides why not put on a show? he shouts out to you, “thought i was picking you up later, babe.” he makes sure to emphasize the nickname as his infamous smirk tells you exactly what his intentions are.

“lecture ended early, love. prof had some emergency. thought why not surprise you…” you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he reaches you and let him lay a quick peck on your cheek. “now come on, i’m taking you out on a date so either hop in or lose your chance. your choice but i don’t have that much patience so hurry up.”

“yes, ma’am,” he leans in closer and guides his hands lower from your waist. “but i’m driving,” he says as he sneakily takes your keys from your back pocket, 

“you sly fox.” he laughs at the new nickname as he opens the door, letting you sit down before closing it. he makes his way around the hood, noting that all attention is still on you two. he meets eyes with his friends again, the three looking much like the faces he saw in the cafe almost six weeks ago. as he buckles in and starts the car, you rest your hand on top of his on the gear shift. he raises his eyebrows and gives you a charming smile. “by the way, why’s your friend looking at me like that?”

he looks back up to face the boys, “which one?”

“jay. since we started doing this, he keeps looking at me weird—like weirder than the others.”

he tilts his head to the side when he realizes that jay is indeed looking in your direction, but his eyes are focused solely on you. “jay is… how should i put this? you know what i’ll tell you later. for now, tell me where to?”

vi. jukebox

the hazy red glow of the neon lights and checkered tiled floors welcomed you as you led sunghoon into the local diner. this place was a staple in your childhood, your go-to hangout spot with the aforementioned boy when you were still in your youth. 

“i will say, this is a nice surprise.”

you look up to sunghoon as he sits across from you in the vinyl booth seat, “i knew you would love it.” you laugh with each other as you get situated, seeing a young but tall—why is he so tall? he looks like he’s only a teenager—server coming towards your table.

“hey, i’m niki and i’ll be taking care of you guys today,” the giant says cheerfully. “anything i can start you guys with?”

sunghoon looks up at the boy to take your order swiftly, “two strawberry milkshakes, please.” you watch as niki nods and walks back to the counter.

“well, well, well, park… you remembered?” you question teasingly with a cocked eyebrow.

“you’ve always had a sweet tooth. no wonder you loved me so much,” his turn to turn up the typical park sunghoon charm.

you scrunch your face in annoyance, “you should become a comedian.”

“i will never get tired of your sarcasm. it really just… keeps me going.” his way of joking back. “stay here. i’ll be right back,” he says quickly as he looks behind you and gets out of his seat.

you wait patiently for him, assuming he’s just going to the restroom. unbeknownst to you, sunghoon is making his way to the jukebox on the other side of the restaurant. he flips through the song list, finally finding the one he wants. he quickly puts in the coins and sets it in the queue. as he turns to go back to you, he sees an engraving on the side. he runs his fingers along it as he inspects the writing. property of sunghoon and y/n. he thinks back to your last day of eighth grade when you two etched the label onto the wood. he joyfully walks back to your table, ready to let you know about the memory. he sits next to you now, resting his arm behind you and around your back,

“what took you so long, park?”

right as he’s about to explain, niki comes to your table, “two strawberry milkshakes. anything else i can get you two?”

you turn your head quickly to the boy sitting next to you, seeing his eyes are already focused on yours. “um… no, i, uh, think we’re good.” you stumble and stutter a bit. you watch him as he nods his head and walks away. regaining your composure, you ask sunghoon again, “so what did take you so long?”

once again, he gets interrupted. the sound of “purpose” by justin bieber playing over the speakers makes him stop. he gives you a second to register the song, “that’s why.”

you tilt your head down and look at him quizzically, “really? this is why?” you reach to your drink, sipping on the straw as you wait for his answer.

he mirrors your movement, nodding his head in confirmation. he too drinks from the tall glass, contrary to your use of a straw, he opts to drink straight from the rim. he pulls the milkshake away, leaving some on his upper lip.

you burst into quiet laughter, turning your gaze away to not spit out your own shake.

sunghoon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “what’s so funny?”

you turn back to him, “you got a little something there, park.” you wipe away the liquid from his face with your thumb, popping into your own mouth to clean it up.”there, all good now.”

sunghoon freezes in his spot, trying to comprehend what just happened. it’s quick but he feels something. trying to shake off the foreign feeling, he turns to face forward again. he feels you lean into him, head resting on his chest. a small grin appears on his face, humming along to the justin bieber tune still playing.

“i missed hearing you sing.”

sunghoon looks down at the crown of your head, “really? you used to always tease me about it, though.”

you shake your head with a light laugh, “i never meant it. whenever you sang, it always calmed me. i used to think… if you didn’t pursue skating, you could’ve been a singer.”

“and then what? i would bring you around on tour everywhere and sneak you in backstage?”

“that could’ve been fun.” you now laugh louder than before, him along with you.

there it is again. sunghoon’s not sure what it is, trying to suppress the odd emotion. he sits there, cuddling up to you in the booth, finishing the strawberry milkshakes, just hoping you can’t hear the way his heart starts to beat faster.

sitting at the bar, snacking on fries, and trying to not be seen by you two are heeseung, jay, and jake. they ask themselves would they really be considered sunghoon’s friends if they didn’t follow them and stake out their date.

vii. nerds

sunghoon picked you up from the art department today. he showed up about ten minutes too early, and he got permission from your instructor to monitor your class from the back. he waited outside the door while you cleaned up, earning a few prying looks from your peers as they exited. as you drove back to his place, you agreed to have a movie marathon. 

opening the door to his dorm, you say “we are watching star wars. luke, leia, and han solo are a way better trio than three child magicians.”

sunghoon defends his choice, “first of all, they’re wizards. second, i’m offended. harry, ron, and hermione use magic with their wands. all star wars has is weird weapons and robots.”

“they’re literally in space and excuse you, but does something called—oh, i don’t know—the force ring any bells? they’re jedis, duh.” you rolls your eyes, making your annoyance clear.

sunghoon stops in the hall, “harry potter has spells and potions.”

“star wars has chewbacca.” you stand next to him with your arms crossed.

definitively and matter-of-factly, sunghoon says, “quidditch.”

“you can’t seriously believe quidditch is praiseworthy?” you look at him crazily.

“you two are such nerds.”

you both freeze, turning to see the rest of en-4 sitting in the living room. in the midst of your argument, you both failed to notice the others were home. you realize that jay was the one to stop you two. you also realize it’s the dreaded time for the best friends to finally meet the “girlfriend”. sunghoon seems to realize it as well, reaching to intertwine your hands to both sell the act to his roomates and to calm you down.

he leads you into the living room, meeting eyes with the boys. “so… guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

“it’s so nice to finally meet you! i’m jake. sunghoon here has been holding out on us. i mean, come on, it’s been like two months and he still hasn’t introduced you to us.” the australian continues on with his energetic and positive ramble, asking you questions about your relationship.

heeseung butts in to tell jake to slow down. “i’m heeseung. jake’s right though, you two started dating before winter break and we’re barely meeting you now. sunghoon is always hanging out with you and telling us everything about it. honestly, all i can tell you is to run while you still can.” the others all laugh at his antics.

sunghoon scoffs, “hey, i’m not that bad.”

you excuse yourself to get a drink from the kitchen. you can hear jake spitting out more questions like rapid fire to sunghoon as you walk away. you reach into the fridge, fishing out a water bottle.

behind you, jay enters quietly. “you two are cute together.”

you flinch at his voice, “geez, dude. almost gave me a heart attack.”

he chuckles under his breath and leans against the counter, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. i met sunghoon at freshman orientation and we immediately became friends, but i’ve never seen him like this.”

“really hoping you mean that in a good way.”

“don’t worry, it is. you know… he only has a soft spot for you. the three of us are his best friends but he only ever smiles like that with you.” he sways his head back and forth as he rambles, taking a pause between his words. “stay with him. it’ll be good for everyone.”

you smile at his approval, “you wanna know something? he actually said you would be the hardest to win over. he said something about you being super protective over your friends… yet, at the same time you trust their judgement. he told me that when he and i got together, he wasn’t scared to tell you but more worried as to if you would like me.”

he smiles with you now, “that all he said about me?” he asks while raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

“he also mentioned that you’re a good cook.”

viii. proud

a professor of yours is holding their annual spring showcase for contemporary art. every year, a handful of students are chosen to join and display their art amongst other renowned artists. you happen to be one of the few, a top contender chosen for your abilities.

you’ve invited your friends, including en-4 to come by the studio and see your work—albeit a bit nervous for their reactions. you stand on watch by your section, greeting the patrons and waiting for the boys to arrive.

thankfully, they show up within the first hour of the gallery opening. they each show up looking professional and chic, sporting all-black fits—most likely at the hands of jay. sunghoon immediately finding you and leading the way for the rest. you welcome them in, explaining your collection, the concentration being “vulnerability.” the works are a mix of several mediums, majority being oil paint, each displaying a closeup of various people. the paintings show their bare faces, imperfections and blemishes with nothing to hide.

the night continues with more and more passing by, complimenting your collection. by the time the exhibition ends, you and sunghoon are the only ones left in the studio. he’s stayed in the same spot, eyeing one piece incredibly closely. throughout the entire showcase, he had kept going back to the one canvas. you join his side, linking your arm with his. “this one is my favorite,” you hear him say.

you look up to meet his eyes, “why this one?”

“because…  it’s you.” you takes your arm out and moves to stand behind you, now wrapping himself around you and resting his chin in the crook of your neck. he holds your hands in his, “i am so proud of you. times like this, i am proud to call you my best friend.” he turns his head, kissing you once on your jaw, and then pulling slightly back to kiss you again on the cheek.

you turn around, hugging him closer with your arms around his shoulders, “thank you.” you hold each other for a few minutes. when you pull away, you lock eyes. you feel your heart beating against your chest and your breathing getting faster. you snap back to reality when you feel sunghoon’s lips on yours. you’re not sure why you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him back or why he grabs onto your waist while backing you into the wall. he continues placing pecks on the corner of you lips, creating a trail down to your neck. when you let out a sigh and say his name, he stops. there he stands, a few feet in front of you, awkward and unsure of what to do next.

he breaks the silence, “it’s late. i should drive you back home.” he watches as you slowly nod your head. the drive back to your apartment was dead silent. you tried to occupy yourself by looking out the window.

when he drops you off, he bids you a quick goodnight. “um… text me when you get back home.” sunghoon just looks forward, muttering “ok” before leaving.

in the elevator, you look at your reflection on the metal doors. you make your way inside your place and take a seat on your bed. your mind is too busy reliving the moments with sunghoon before. you try to comprehend what you should do but find yourself too tired, instead falling asleep and missing his text.

ix. spring break

it’s currently the middle of april and the boys have made you an honorary member of en-4. you and sunghoon have been pretending to be a couple and successfully tricking everyone for the last four months.

everyone has the week off for spring break. jay, being the generous guy he is, rented out a cabin in the mountains for the now five members of your friend group. you all rode in one car on the way up, and you totally didn’t fall asleep in the middle seat while cuddling into sunghoon’s side. 

you all decide to settle into your rooms once you arrive. “so there are four rooms, two downstairs and two upstairs.” jay pauses, looking towards you and sunghoon, “i assume that you’ll be fine sharing one.”

you immediately answer, “yeah, for sure.” you look to see sunghoon avoiding your gaze, sensing knowing looks from the others. sunghoon and you already guessed that they would make the two of you share a room and truthfully, neither of you minded. growing up together meant a lot of sleepovers and sharing beds so this was no problem.

he continues on, “great, you guys can take the master bedroom on the second floor cause it has the most space. i’ll take the room next to you, heeseung and jake can take the two down here.”

everyone agrees and sets off to their assigned rooms. you and sunghoon drop your bags onto the mattress, starting to unpack. the interior is spacious, the tall glass sliding doors allow lots of natural light to come in. the room itself is cozy, king size bed with matching bedside tables, and a big fluffy area rug. you’re too distracted to notice that sunghoon has gone outside to the balcony. he leans against the railing, taking in the scenic views and the breeze, basking in the setting rust-colored sun. when you finally realize that he’s not next to you anymore, you silently make you way onto the balcony, wrapping your arms around sunghoon from behind.

he tenses up at the sudden contact, relaxing when he realizes it’s you. there it is again, his heart is acting up like at the diner. he’s noticed it more often—the way that whenever he sees you, his heart beats differently. this weird feeling in his chest, this warmth that only shows up around you. he gets lost in his thoughts, envisioning what could become of your situation.

“what’s got you so lost?”

your voice snaps him back to reality. he turns around to face you, “uh… nothing, just thinking.”

just when you want to question him further and talk about what happened at the showcase, a knock is heard on the door. sunghoon walks away, going to open the door. both of you can feel the awkward tension when he leaves his spot. 

“hey, we’re kinda hungry so we’re gonna order some food and watch a movie downstairs,” jake informs you two when the door opens. “feel free to come down and join whenever.”

“yeah, we’ll be down in a bit,” sunghoon tells him as heeseung nods before leaving you two alone again. you both finish getting settled before heading downstairs. you gather around the couch as ponyo plays on the tv and you reach for a tray of sushi. 

the night continues, the moon sitting high amongst the stars. after the movie, dinner, and some drinking games, everyone retires to their respective rooms. you plop yourself onto the bed, tired after the day’s activities. you hear sunghoon getting something from his bag along with the rustling of some plastic. you crane your head up to see him approaching you. he sits on the edge of the bed, now with fluffy headbands and face masks in hand.

you scoot back a bit, “nope. no way you are getting me to do that.”

he laughs lightly at your antics, “oh come on… let me take care of you, at least just for tonight. please.” he gives you a pleading look with pursed lips, dragging out the “please” to show how desperate he is. 

that was the deciding point that led to a spa night. you both changed into comfier clothes, you borrowed one of his hoodies and sweatpants. sunghoon got settled in closer to you and you reached for his wrist to grab one of the elastic bands. you adjusted your position to sit on your knees, reaching up to tie his hair back. he, on the other hand, took one of the headbands to bring your hair back and away from your face. 

by the time midnight rolled around, you two were snuggled under the comforter with face masks, surrounded by junk food, and on the fourth episode of some random netflix show. as the night continues, a wave of sleep starts to overtake both of you. you help each other take off the masks and clean up, getting distracted every few minutes because one of you would start messing around. the boys had stopped by to say goodnight, catching you two in the middle of a mild pillow fight. after sending them off, you fall asleep in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of your shared embrace. heeseung had snuck in at one point and stole a few quick pictures to tease you two with.

the dawn breaking through the sheer curtains causes you to stir in bed. you turn to see the alarm clock on the nightstand say 6:02. untangling yourself from sunghoon’s grasp, you sneak outside. you climb up to sit on the rooftop, feeling the cool chill of the dewy morning. the time alone gives you a sense of serenity.

meanwhile, sunghoon moves under the covers, confused why he can’t feel you. his eyes open and he doesn’t find a trace of you in the room. worried, he gets up and quietly searches the house, making sure to not wake the others. he goes into the backyard, seeing a shadow on the ground with an unusual shape. he looks up to find you perched on the roof, facing the opposite direction. he eventually climbs up to sit next to you. he hesitates before getting closer and putting his arm around you. you sigh as you lean into him. there you both stay, watching the sun come over the horizon in a comfortable silence.

x. disaster averted

the following week, you all return to campus. needless to say, the break was well used—the days at the cabin mostly being spent at the lake or around the campfire. another day spent hanging out at en-4’s dorm after classes. sunghoon went out to pick up food for everyone. you are in his room, trying to cram for an upcoming test and failing miserably because the other three are all playing fifa way too loud.

while the boys are playing, the doorbell rings. jay gets up to check who it is, seeing a young girl and immediately recognizing her. he lets in yeji, sunghoon’s little sister. she casually joins the boys around the tv, catching up on whatever has been happening in their lives. sunghoon arrives back home within twenty minutes. 

“i’m back with the food,” he shouts out loud enough for everyone to hear including you behind his closed bedroom door. he places the plastic bags on the table, looking up to see another face. “yeji? what are you doing here?”

she gets up to greet her brother, giving him a hug, “it’s my spring break and i wanted to stop by.” sunghoon then realizes that his family doesn’t know about him becoming friends with you again or about your current situation. he drags her into the kitchen hurriedly, “ok so here’s the thing… you remember y/n?”

“of course! she’s like my big sister.”

his breath gets caught in his throat for a second, “yeah, don’t call her that. anyways, her and i are friends again,” he sees yeji’s eyes widen with excitement and continues with his explanation before she can cut him off, “and she’s my girlfriend.”

“what?!”

sunghoon panics and covers her mouth with his palm, “fake girlfriend!” he rushes out the whisper. “the guys don’t know that our relationship isn’t real and i’d like to keep it that way. they don’t even know that we were friends beforehand. yeji, i’m begging you to go along with it. please do this for me.” he clasps his hands together in front of him with a pleading expression.

the young girl crosses her arms in front of her and pretends to think about it, “hmm… fine.”

sunghoon blurts out a chant of “thank you’s” not knowing that his sister only agreed cause she always thought that you and sunghoon would’ve been a good couple. he tells her to help the others set the table while he goes to you. he quickly explains what’s happening and you’re just excited that you get to see yeji again. you both leave his room and you make your own way to the living room, spotting the other girl and exchanging glances.

yeji stops what she’s doing to turn and face you, “who’s this?”

you answer back casually, “y/n. i’m a friend of the boys, and you are?”

“yeji, sunghoon’s younger sister.” she says it proudly, bringing a grin to the aforementioned boy.

“oh, you’re yeji? hoon was right… you are pretty.”

she tilts her head and cocks an eyebrow, questioning you “why would he tell you about me?”

jake chimes in like it’s second nature, “i mean, why wouldn’t he tell his girlfriend about his sister?” he states like it’s so obvious. “they’ve been together since december.”

“girlfriend?” she takes a step back in false shock, “since december? why didn’t i know about this?” 

“what? i don’t seem like your brother’s type?”

“it’s not that. i’m just surprised he managed to get and keep a girlfriend. you’re like, way out of his league and he’s a loser.” one thing to know about yeji is that as much as she loves him, she will never miss a chance to tease her brother. 

with a scoff, you finally hear sunghoon join in beside you, “not gonna lie, that one hurt a little.”

“i’m so telling mom,” she says with a mischievous smirk.

you laugh at sunghoon’s shocked face and smile at the younger park, “i like you, i think we’ll get along just fine.”

“i like you, too.” she looks at sunghoon, “keep her.”

everyone laughs at the interaction as they settle in to eat. sunghoon sits to your right while yeji sits on your left, wondering how his two favorite girls learned to be such good actresses.

xi. returning the favor

fast forward another month, the end of the semester means the dreaded finals week again. sunghoon has been, for lack of a better word, slacking on some of his classes and is now juggling to prepare for exams and revisions. couple that with yeji telling his mom about your “relationship” and her nonstop questions, all of this stress has been piled on. this all amounting to him getting sick. 

now, sunghoon being sunghoon means that he pushed everyone away and hasn’t told you about his condition. luckily for him, you’ve been cooped up in your studio trying to finish your portfolio and also prepare for your exams. unluckily for him, the boys have gotten worried and heeseung called you. 

which brings us to the present, sunghoon stuck in bed with a fever, congestion, and neglected notes. a knock on his door does nothing to help his headache but seeing your face meekly peek in makes him relax. “what are you doing here?” he asks hoarsely.

“did you really think i wouldn’t find out?”

he avoids your glare, “i didn’t want you to worry.”

“honestly i’m not upset that you’re sick, but that i had to hear it from your roommates.” you come closer to him, clearing out the scattered papers and textbooks from atop his bed. you sit on the edge, taking out some medicine and cooling packs that you picked up from the convenience store.

“you really don’t have to do this,” he twiddles his fingers in embarrassment.

you tie back his hair and place one of the packs on his forehead, “you’ve always been the one taking care of me, so i might as well return the favor.” 

you busy yourself with getting the cough medicine ready and sunghoon takes an actual look at you. he notices that you’re wearing his old skating jacket, the same one he gave you at your high school graduation. he makes more room under the covers, allowing you to come closer and lay next to him. he drapes one arm over you and holds onto the end of the jacket sleeve, “i can’t believe you kept this.”

“we stopped hanging out and we weren’t in each other’s lives for a year and a half after being together basically since birth,” you pause, a little saddened thinking back. “this was the last thing i ever got from you. it’s all i had left.”

he brings you closer, neither of you caring if you got sick. “well… now you have me again. for good.”

xii. the party

the end of the school year has finally arrived. some seniors from the txt frat are hosting a big party to celebrate. of course, en-4 was invited—mostly thanks to heeseung being close with them. although you have made more friends and now have a more active social life, parties are still not your thing. 

yet, much to your dismay, being friends with designated party people means that you’re getting bombarded with pleas to go regardless. sunghoon took the lead on convincing you, “please, i promise that it’ll be fun.” the boys join in, their voices overlapping. sunghoon practically tackles you onto your couch while pouting and furrowing his eyebrows in desperation.

“stop looking at me like that. i can’t think properly when you do that.”

right on cue, the boys start to tease you. jay clears his throat and jake makes kissing noises, meanwhile heeseung starts singing y/n and sunghoon sitting in a tree… while you just glare at them.

“if i say i’ll go, will you all leave me alone?” 

they all shout “yes” in unison. which is how you ended up at the crowded frat house. although they had begged you to come, they practically abandon you and sunghoon when you get there. jake had yelled back to you that his friend sunoo from his econ class called them over for beer pong.

you and sunghoon find a big bean bag in the corner and stay there for a bit. he offers to get you both some drinks and leaves to the kitchen. you’re not sure how long he’s gone but you eventually get uncomfortable. you start wandering the house for some space to get some air. you find an empty room and make your way into the connected bathroom to wash your face. you take some deep breaths, then realizing that you didn’t tell sunghoon. as you’re about to step out, he enters the room.

“i figured you would want some space.”

“how’d you know where i was?”

he comes up closer to you, “in the sea of people, in this mess, in this frenzy… i will always find you. no matter what happens or who comes into my life, i always find my way back to you.”

“what the hell is that even supposed to mean, park?”

“i mean…” he stops to compose himself, “oh for fucks sake, i’m tired of this being pretend. i’m tired of being allowed to call you my girlfriend in public but not treat you like it in private. when i kissed you at the showcase, i had wanted to do that for so long, and i’ve been wanting to do even more.”

“sunghoon, look-”

“wait, i’m not done. what i’m trying to say is that i want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time—not as a joke, not as a trick. i want us to be together as an actual couple because i like you, a lot more than you could believe-”

you cut him off this time, kissing him like he did all those weeks ago. you kissed him in the way that you weren’t sure what words to say other than, “i would love to be your girlfriend.”

sunghoon shines with the biggest smile, picking you up and spinning around. when he lets you down, he incessantly leaves pecks all over your face. he holds you close, “now, how about we go enjoy the party?”

you nod and lead him hand in hand towards the door. you turn the nob, only to have the three remaining members of your friend group fall at your feet. heeseung landing on top, shouting out, “i fucking knew it!”

[viastro]

trailing arbutus | lee juyeon

ミ★ synopsis: you couldn’t help but fall for the boy who offered you his umbrella on that rainy day in the fall.

ミ★ genre: hanahaki!au, best friends to lovers!au, angst, some humor, some fluff

ミ★ warnings: mentions of death, vomiting

ミ★ word count: 5,038

ミ★ pairings: juyeon x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! it’s been a while since i released a tbz oneshot so here’s juyeon ! spring break is coming soon and my classes for spring quarter are a lot easier than the classes i was taking during winter quarter, so i should be able to post oneshots more consistently again... i hope </3 AJLEGSBKRJ don’t hold me to that <333 keep your expectations of me very low <333 the flower that juyeon gave yn may seem familiar if you read my minghao oneshot, last a lifetime >:D anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this ! i wish i could’ve spent some more time on it, but alas. make sure to give juyeon lots of love <3

You met Juyeon in the Fall, when the raindrops began to descend down from the sky and you had forgotten to bring your umbrella.

“Fuck me.” You curse under your breath as you see the pellets of rain drop onto the sidewalk before you, wondering why the weather app always seems to fail you in times of need. 

You were studying at the library for your biopsychology midterm at the end of the week, as you feel that your apartment has too many distractions. For once in your life, you checked the weather app to see if it would rain, and it said no rain.

It lied.

So now here you are, no umbrella in your hand as you debate on whether to sacrifice your textbook or your bag. 

“This textbook was 200 dollars…” You mumble to yourself, now deciding which of the items to ruin. You open up your bag to place the textbook inside, only to pause when you feel a presence beside you. Turning your head, you see an incredibly handsome blonde man standing to your left, holding an opened umbrella above you.

“Don’t ruin your textbook and bag.” He tells you with a small smile, and you raise an eyebrow, looking down at your bag that now holds your giant biopsych book. 

“I would’ve only ruined my bag.” You respond, and the pretty man chuckles, pointing at the cloth material of your bag. You purse your lips, coming to terms with the fact that he has made some strong points. 

“Take my umbrella.” He says, giving the umbrella he’s holding a slight jiggle. You shake your head, raising your hands up to tell him that it’s fine, only to pause when he places the umbrella handle into the palm of your hand. 

“It’s okay, my friend has one anyways. Get home safe!” And with a final smile, he heads back into the library. Leaving you standing at the entrance, in a state of both shock and gratitude as you hold the pretty stranger’s umbrella. You glance back towards the rain, and begin your descent down the stairs, heading back to your apartment.

It’s when you’re close to the trees that you pause, turning to look back towards the library when you realize something. 

“I never got his name.” You mutter, before letting out a sigh. You continue on the path towards your apartment building, feeling too lazy to go back and ask for the kind man’s name. 

The thought of his smile still lingers in your mind, even when you return to the warmth of your home.

You didn’t see Juyeon for a month afterwards, but you made sure to keep his umbrella with you in case you ran into him on campus again. The day you finally saw the pretty boy again, it was in fact, raining. Except this time, the roles were switched. 

You had an umbrella, and he didn’t.

“Rain, I have a love and hate relationship with you.” You state quietly as you walk towards the cafe, umbrella shielding you from getting drenched. The weather app lied to you once again, saying that it was only going to be partly cloudy.

Partly cloudy your ass.

You hold the umbrella that the pretty man gave you a month ago, feeling grateful that you’ve been carrying it on you since that day just in case you ran into him. However, you’ve ended up using it more often than you originally thought you would.

You squint when you see a familiar blonde haired man holding his bag over his head as he walks to his destination. You speed up your pace until you’re close to him, and realize that he’s the pretty stranger from a month ago.

Without a word, you take a few more steps and outstretch the umbrella over his head, and he pauses, turning to look at you. The two of you stop walking, and he tilts his head to the side when he recognizes you, a pretty smile coming over his features. 

“Don’t ruin your bag.” You point out with a grin, and he lets out a laugh, nodding his head. He glances up at the umbrella, chuckling when he sees that it’s the same one he gave you that day at the library. Looking back at you he asks, “You kept it?” 

You nod your head, an incredulous look coming onto your face. “Of course I did! Why would I get rid of a stranger’s umbrella?” 

The man purses his lips, before outstretching his hand in your direction. “Hi, I’m Lee Juyeon.” 

You smile, now knowing the name of the kind man as you reach out and grasp his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “I’m yn yln.” 

A year since that fateful encounter, you and Juyeon are walking towards his apartment underneath a shared umbrella. The rain falls softly against the clear plastic, and you watch as the droplets fall off the sides and onto the ground. 

“Always so intrigued by the rain, huh?” Juyeon asks you with a grin, making you turn and look at his face. He dyed his hair black a few months after the two of you became friends, having had Changmin color it for him. However, with the boxed bleach you hold in the shopping bag as the two of you walk, you know Juyeon’s hair is about to be fried.

“The rain is nice when I’m not getting wet.” You respond with a nudge, and Juyeon chuckles, nodding his head in agreement. You both turn into the apartment building entrance, with the black haired beauty shaking the umbrella to remove the excess water. 

“Are you sure you want to bleach your hair again?” You ask once the two of you enter the elevator, and he nods his head as he wraps up the umbrella. “Yeah, I miss the blonde.” 

Pursing your lips at the thought of Juyeon possibly going bald, you decide to press more, “Your hair could end up being absolutely fried.” 

Your pretty friend simply shrugs his shoulders, taking a photo of the boxed bleach in the bag that you’re holding. You let out a sigh when the elevator doors open and you both step out, wondering how he manages to just not care about anything. 

“Okay, I have another question.” You state as the two of you walk up to Juyeon’s apartment door. He raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the key, letting you step in first. “Mm?” 

“Are you sure you want me to bleach your hair for you? Do you remember the last time I tried to dye Changmin’s hair pink?” Juyeon just chuckles at the tragic memory, shrugging off his coat and placing it onto the rack. He stretches his hand out to you, and you hand him your own jacket, watching as he places it beside his own. 

“Yeah. I trust you, yn.” Juyeon tells you as he walks off towards the bathroom, stretching his arms over his head as he does so. Your eyes catch the sliver of skin that appears when his shirt rides up, and you immediately turn away, letting out a frustrated breath as warmth floods your face.

“You really shouldn’t have this much trust in me.” You mutter, following after the pretty man. The two of you set up the bathroom, with you preparing the bleach solution and Juyeon placing newspapers onto the floor. 

“You ready?” Juyeon glances up from his phone and into the mirror, sending you a grin that makes your heart palpitate within your chest. “Of course.” 

You place the brush with the bleach concoction onto a few strands of Juyeon’s hair, wincing at the image of your pretty friend going bald because of how often he colors his hair. Juyeon raises an eyebrow at the furrow to your brows and the pout to your lips, letting out a chuckle as he turns around and rests his hand on your head. 

You snap out of the trance of a bald Juyeon, just to find your best friend staring at you with an amused expression on his face. With his thumb, he reaches down and swipes the crease between your eyebrows until it goes away. He gives you a kind smile once his hand lowers back down to his lap, “Why did it look like you stepped in a pile of dog poop as you started to bleach my hair?” 

You don’t answer for a moment as you return to placing the bleach onto the ends of Juyeon’s hair, warmth flooding your face at the physical contact that lasted very briefly but sent your heart spiraling. Juyeon watches you in the mirror, awaiting your answer. 

These feelings have to stop before it’s too late, You think to yourself once you feel yourself begin to calm down. It wasn’t shocking to you that you felt a bit attracted to Juyeon, as he is incredibly handsome and has a precious personality to match. What was surprising, albeit a bit scary, is that your attraction for Juyeon didn’t dwindle as the two of you became closer over a span of a year. In fact, it’s only grown since then.

But that is one of the few facts that you refuse to acknowledge.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you take out a comb and part another section of Juyeon’s hair and finally glance up into his eyes in the mirror with a playful smile. 

“Cause I thought of how you’d look bald.” 

Juyeon scoffs, eliciting a giggle out of you when you take note of his own expression turning a bit sour from the image appearing in his mind. 

“If I go bald, I’m blaming you.” 

“You just said you trusted me!” 

“Yeah, well. That was before you placed the image of me being bald in my head.” Juyeon says, laughing when he sees you biting the inside of your cheek to hold back your own chuckles. He nudges you slightly, and your laughter pours out, mixing with his own as you continue to bleach his hair.

The previous worries you had slowly melt away, but inch back towards the surface each time you lock eyes with your best friend.

You scroll through your phone, looking through Twitter to try and find memes as you wait for Changmin to come for your guys’ weekly lunch run. Your thumb halts its sweeping movement when you feel a presence standing before you, and you glance up to see Juyeon staring at you with a smile on his face. 

Immediately you frown, “What are you doing here?” 

Juyeon’s eyebrows furrow in response to your unenthusiastic reaction. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, “Changmin has to stay after at practice because he needs to help fix the choreo. He told me he texted you, but you didn’t respond.” 

You purse your lips, going to the messages app to see that you did, in fact, completely miss Changmin’s message that he couldn’t make it and that Juyeon will be his replacement for the week. You grin when your eyes land on the last text.

changmin: this is only a one time thing ! no one can ever replace me on our weekly lunch extravaganzas >:DD

“Mmm.” You mutter, placing your phone into your pocket and looking up at Juyeon, who is squinting at you. 

“What?”

“Why are you so unhappy that you’re eating lunch with me and not Changmin?” Juyeon asks, and you smile, beginning to walk towards McDonalds without answering his question. The blonde just stares after you with an amused smile on his face, watching as you turn back towards him and cup your hands around your mouth.

“Changmin is more entertaining!” 

Juyeon’s mouth drops open at your words, and you let out a loud laugh at how offended he looks. He points towards you with a competitive grin on his face, and your eyes widen when you realize what that look means. 

“Juyeon, no.” He simply starts running after you without a response, making you elicit a squeal as you begin to sprint away. The two of you run through campus, ignoring all the other students around you as you let out bright laughs while listening to Juyeon’s shouts.

“You’ll NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE!” 

You suddenly feel your wrist get grabbed, and you’re pulled back into Juyeon’s body as he laughs, staring into your eyes with all the stars in the universe. Warmth floods your face from the close proximity between the two of you, wondering if he’s even affected by this as he looks at you.

“I caught you alive.” Juyeon states with a grin, pulling back and raising his arms up as he stretches. It takes you a moment to answer as you wait for your heart to calm down, before rolling your eyes and nudging him. 

“Whatever. You got a head start.” 

“You literally ran before I even chased after you.” You simply shrug your shoulders, and Juyeon lets out a chuckle as the two of you peacefully walk towards the fast food franchise. 

“You still think Changmin is more fun than me?” Juyeon asks as the two of you pass the flower shop, signaling that you’re close to McDonalds and closer to eating very unhealthy french fries. Biting the inside of your cheek, you respond, “I think you’re both equally fun.” 

When you don’t hear a reply from Juyeon, you turn your head and realize that the blonde is no longer walking alongside you. You glance back to see him standing by a bucket that holds a few flowers, and you raise an eyebrow when he tentatively lifts a pale pink blossom out. 

Juyeon walks back over to you with a friendly smile on his face, and you open your mouth to ask what it is, only to pause when he reaches out and tucks the fragile flower behind your ear. You look into his eyes to search for an answer as to why, but you fail to find it.

Juyeon looks away from you first, pointing towards the direction of the McDonalds. “Let’s go get lunch, yn.” 

You nod your head slowly, and the two of you walk side by side to the fast food establishment, all while you try to calm down your racing heart. In your head you’re just repeating to yourself the same sentence like a mantra to try to remind yourself not to overthink the action.

he doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like you. stop these feelings before it’s too late.

It’s only later when you’re alone in your bathroom throwing up the familiar pale pink petals that you realize, 

it’s too late.

“What ramen do you think yn would like better?” Changmin asks Juyeon as the two walk around the convenient store to buy groceries for you. The blonde glances over at his friend, pointing at the shin ramen, “That one. It’s yn’s favorite, they always make it for me when I visit.” 

Changmin purses his lips, grinning to himself as he places the packet into the basket he’s holding. Juyeon takes notice of the knowing smile on the black haired beauty’s face, and he nudges him, causing Changmin to chuckle. “Why are you smiling?”

“Cause your love for yn is showing.” Changmin responds, and Juyeon bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head at him. The blonde turns back towards the arrangement of items, grabbing a few of your favorite snacks and placing them into the basket. 

“I don’t even know what love is.” Juyeon mutters as he grabs one more pack of ramen and throws it into the basket. Changmin purses his lips, choosing not to respond as the two walk to the checkout. 

You haven’t been going to classes, nor have you been texting Changmin or Juyeon for the last few days. Juyeon remembered the time you got sick and didn’t text either of them a few months ago, so he realized you must be doing the same thing right now. That’s why he dragged Changmin to the convenience store to prepare a care package for you, knowing that you don’t take proper care of yourself when you have a cold.

“You sure you can’t come with me to yn’s? I think you’d make them feel better.” Changmin says, promptly changing the topic as they place everything onto the counter. Juyeon purses his lips a bit, wishing he could come and visit, but he already agreed to practice with the new recruits of the dance team. 

“I can’t back out of plans an hour before, so I’ll just pay for all the groceries.” Juyeon responds as taps his card on the reader, watching as the payment goes through and placing the card back into his wallet. They both grin at the cashier as they hand them their bags, before walking out of the convenience store.

“Text me when you get to yn’s, I’ll try to visit after practice.” Juyeon tells Changmin, and the younger nods his head. The blonde waves his hand at his friend, before turning and heading towards the university. 

Juyeon glances up towards the grey sky as he walks, finding that his thoughts are only flooded with you as he does so. 

He comes to wonder when his heart began to beat faster whenever he saw you.

“Yn! Let me in!” You don’t move to answer the door, continuing to sit by your living room window, staring out at the city below. Coughing slightly, you reach over and grab your cup of tea, taking a long sip once Changmin’s voice comes to a stop. 

It’s only when you hear your door knob jiggle that you turn your head with a frown, seeing your front door open fully to reveal your friend who has a frown on his face. You let out a sigh, and Changmin’s frown deepens as he slips off his shoes and closes the front door, walking towards you. 

“How’d you get in?” You ask quietly, only to let out an, ah, when Changmin holds up the spare key you gave him a few months back. He places the bag from the convenience store onto the coffee table, before settling down beside you. 

The two of you stay silent for a moment, with Changmin staring at you in concern, and you avoiding eye contact by staring out the window. You bite the inside of your cheek once you feel a tickle in your throat, trying your best not to cough.

“Why didn’t you tell me or Juyeon that you were sick? You did this last time and you got scolded. Now I’m gonna scold you again! You live alone, yn. You should be resting, not making your own food or cleaning.” Changmin says sternly, and you don’t reply with the fear that you may cough out those pale pink petals again.

“Yn.” Changmin states once you don’t answer, leaning a bit closer to look at your face. 

“Why are you giving me the silent treatment? You should be giving Juyeon the silent treatment since he didn’t come! Well, he actually paid for the groceries I got for you but-” The words die in Changmin’s throat when you release a cough, and a single petal flies out of your mouth and onto the floor. His eyes widen at the sight, before turning towards you and seeing the tears flooding your eyes.

“Yn…” You bite your bottom lip, before leaning over and resting your forehead onto Changmin’s shoulder. 

“What are you going to do?” Changmin asks, wrapping his arms around you and patting your back soothingly. He’s filled with worry as he stares down at the pink petal on the floor, knowing that there’s only two options to handle this disease.

“I don’t know.” You mutter quietly, tears trailing down your face. Changmin bites the inside of his cheek, pulling you closer and holding you. 

“I don’t know what hurts more,” You begin, squeezing your fists tightly at the thought that comes to mind. “The petals that I keep coughing up.” 

You cough again, fortunately no petals escape as you pull back from Changmin’s embrace to look at him. He reaches out and pats your head, and you harshly bite your bottom lip when the thought of those sparkly eyes comes to mind as you say,

“Or the fact that Juyeon doesn’t love me back.”

You walk around campus with your mask over your mouth and nose, feeling grateful that you haven’t coughed up any petals throughout any of your classes. Glancing up at the sky, you see the various shades of pink and blue, your heart feeling heavy at the beautiful sight. 

“Yn!” Your eyes widen when you hear that familiar voice, but you refuse to turn around, continuing to walk as if you never heard it. 

“Yn! Wait!” You speed up your pace, panicking when the sound of footsteps draws closer. You’re about to break out into a full on sprint when Juyeon runs around you, forcing you to halt your movements as you stare at him with wide eyes. 

“Didn’t you hear me calling for you? You haven’t been responding to my texts for the last week.” Juyeon says as his chest goes up and down, trying to catch his breath from having to run to you. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you attempt to pretend that you’re okay. “Sorry, I’ve been avoiding looking at my phone cause it strains my eyes.”

Juyeon nods his head, understanding what you mean as you just got over being sick. “Changmin told me that you had a fever and just slept the whole time when he came to see you a couple days ago, are you feeling better now?” 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nod and flash Juyeon the brightest eye smile you can muster. He squints at you, before reaching his hand up and resting it on your forehead to check your temperature. You freeze, warmth flooding your face from the contact, only to pause when you feel your throat begin to tickle with that dreadful feeling.

“Your forehead isn’t hot, so I suppose you weren’t- Yn?” Juyeon’s eyes fill with concern at the sight of your eyes turning watery. He takes a step closer but you raise your hand up to stop him, feeling the petals begin to climb up your throat as you turn and run away from Juyeon without another word. Juyeon’s eyes widen, “Yn!” 

Feeling the tears fall past your eyes at the calls of your name, you sprint away, trying your best to hold back the flowers that threaten to escape, but to no avail. Finding it harder to breathe, you remove your mask as you run, releasing a few of the petals that were stuck in the cloth. Your chest burns, your heart hurts, everything is in pain as you run away from the one you love.

“Yn..” Juyeon mutters, stopping himself from chasing after you when he realizes you have no plans of stopping. He watches as your figure gets smaller, only to squint when he catches sight of something pink flowing with the wind from behind you. 

Juyeon’s heart stops in his chest when it floats in his direction, and he stretches his arm towards it, watching as the pale pink petal softly falls onto the palm of his hand. He knows this flower, and as he looks back up in the direction you ran in, he feels his heart break for the first time when he makes the connection of where the fragile petal came from.

Changmin watches from across the studio as Juyeon keeps making mistakes in the choreography, something the dancer rarely ever does. However, over the last few days, it’s been happening consistently. No matter how many times Changmin reteaches the choreo to Juyeon step by step, he still makes a mistake the next day.

“Juyeon, you keep making mistakes.” Changmin says as he pauses the music, turning to look at his best friend. The blonde simply breathes heavily, staring down at the floor while he tries to sort out his thoughts. Changmin frowns, stepping forward towards his friend, “Juyeon.”

“Yn ran away from me the other day.” Juyeon starts, a furrow to his brow as he remembers the look of fear in your eyes. He bites his bottom lip harshly, before looking up at Changmin, seeing the dread on his friend’s face, “A pink petal flew towards me from their direction.”

“Juyeon-”

“It had to have been one of the flowers that grow in the square, right?” Juyeon asks with tears filling his eyes, stepping towards Changmin as he squeezes his fists at his sides. The black haired beauty tries his best to hold back from crying as he simply shakes his head, no.

“They have hanahaki, Juyeon.” Changmin states, tears escaping his own eyes from finally confessing the truth that’s been haunting him for the last week. The two stay silent for a moment, letting the information sink in as Juyeon slowly slides down onto the floor.

“Is it me?” Juyeon asks in a soft voice as he looks up from the wooden floor, Changmin lets out a bittersweet smile at the question, looking away from the blonde as his own heart breaks within his chest.

“It is.” Changmin answers quietly, rubbing his chest in an attempt to ease the pain. Juyeon slowly stands up from the floor, eyes wide as he stares at his friend. Changmin turns to look at the blonde, eyebrows furrowing at the shocked expression on Juyeon’s face.

“What is it-”

“How long has it been since the last time yn coughed up flowers?” Changmin purses his lips, remembering how you mentioned you haven’t coughed anything since the day you ran into Juyeon. “I don’t know, a week?” 

Changmin pauses, suddenly realizing what Juyeon’s thinking when his eyes widen as he connects the dots. Hope floods his chest as he stares at his friend, feeling relieved that you’re going to be okay. Juyeon turns and looks out the window of the studio, seeing the rain fall from the sky, and he quickly walks over and grabs his sweatshirt and umbrella. 

“Where are you going? We just realized something huge!” Changmin shouts when he watches Juyeon walk towards the door. The blonde simply turns back towards his friend, giving him a small smile, 

“It’s raining, yn must’ve forgotten their umbrella.”

“I forgot my umbrella.” You mutter, staring up at the blue sky from the convenience store entrance. The raindrops fall hard onto the pavement, making you let out a sigh. You turn to glance back inside the convenience store, debating on buying one even though you have at least four back at your apartment. You look down at the bag in your hand, seeing the ramen and tea you bought in an attempt to soothe your throat. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you remember that your days are limited as you watch the raindrops fall from the sky. With that in mind, you step out of the protection you had from the convenience store, and let the rain hit you as you walk towards your apartment, convenience store bag in tow as you do so. 

As your clothes slowly become soaked, you can’t help but think of how you met Juyeon. The kind guy who gave you his umbrella on that rainy day. You let out a bittersweet smile, knowing that it was inevitable for you to fall for the man. 

You halt your movements, suddenly realizing the fact that you haven’t coughed up flowers in almost a week. Your eyes widen, heart beating rapidly against your chest as the bag of groceries you were holding falls to the ground. 

You scramble to grab your phone from your pocket, quickly unlocking your phone to dial Juyeon’s number as tears fill your eyes. You listen to it ring, quietly muttering to yourself for him to pick up the call, needing to know if this is real.

“Hello?” 

“Juyeon! Where-” 

“You didn’t bring an umbrella again?” You squint, wondering how he knows that as you look up from the ground, only for your mouth to fall open when you see him standing a few feet away from you, umbrella in hand. You take note of the rise and fall to his chest, seeing that he must’ve ran here from dance practice as the two of you stare at each other. 

You let out a wet laugh, tears falling from your eyes as you stare at Juyeon, nodding your head as you adjust the phone to your ear. “You know me, I always forget. That’s why you’re there to save me from the rain each time.” 

Juyeon smiles in response, tears spilling and flowing down his face. He reaches up in an attempt to wipe it away, laughing quietly as he stares at you, a look of remorse in his gaze. Feeling grateful that he was able to realize his feelings for you, but regretful that you had to experience so much pain before he did so.

“I’m sorry I didn’t save you sooner, I wasn’t sure what the weather was going to be.” Juyeon mutters, and you bite the inside of your cheek, understanding what he truly means. You give him a grin, before opening your arms and gesturing to your guys surroundings as the rain begins to fall softer from the sky.

“It’s okay, you came just in time.” You say, wiping away the mix of tears and rain from your face. Juyeon walks towards you, stopping when the umbrella is hovering over the two of you, blocking you from the rain. 

“I love you.” Juyeon confesses, and you bite the inside of your cheek, nodding your head as the tears fall from your eyes once again. He reaches out and softly wipes it away with his thumb, letting his warm hand remain on your cheek as he stares into your eyes. 

As the rain continues to fall from the sky on this sunny Spring day, a rainbow forms above you and Juyeon as you let out a smile, leaning into his touch when you say,

“I love you too, Juyeon.” 

trailing arbutus: if given the pale pink blossom, it means you are the only one they love. a promise that the love they have for you will not only be warm, but will last a lifetime.

[kaeyasaki]

-ˏˋ3:36:AMˊˎ- was the exact time your eyes shot open and your head jolted up. despite the quick actions of you body reacting too quickly to an unfortunate nightmare, you were held firmly in place by two lean arms wrapped around your limp form. turning to your side, you breathed out gently in relief.

‘he’s still here.’

weighing you down was your boyfriend of 4 years, kuroo tetsurō who was currently stirring awake himself. his grip on you tightened slightly as his eyes weakly fluttered open as you admired his messy state. drinking in his appearance, your heart warmed at the sight of his increasingly messier hair and soft crinkles under his eyes from tiredness. you would’ve reached out to cup the side of his face but alas, your arms were in no way moveable as kuroo’s grip held them firmly in place.

“what’s wrong?” his voice heavily woven with sleep.

“it’s nothing,” you offered him a small smile. “go back to sleep.” you did your best to affirm him with a nod as your own eyes dropped shut, but you would’ve been a fool to think he’d believe your act. kuroo was a man of perception, he was always more than aware of who and what was around him and you were certainly no exception.

“wouldn’t say it’s nothing, that was a pretty harsh scare you had wasn’t it?” he replied, arms loosening around you to give you some space to move. gently draping his arm over your side and pulling you into him, kuroo gave you a concerned look as you opened your eyes once more and gazed down.

“you’ll think it’s stupid.” muttering softly, you leaned into his chest a little more, voice muffled and face out of sight to him. “try me.” he challenged, hooking his index finger under your chin, lifting your head up to face him.

you bit the inside of your cheek before sighing softly. there was no point in trying to deceive him, so you decided you might as well tell him what had happened. “in my dream,” you began and kuroo nodded, hand resting on your back and thumb drawing small circles in its place. “we were meant to meet up to eat after your last class as we always do on a friday.”

kuroo hummed for you to continue, full focus solely channelled onto you. “but you never showed up.” your voice was small and had it not had been the dead early hours of the day, your boyfriend may had missed your words. “i stood you up?” his eyes locked onto yours as an apologetic twinkle glinted. “something like that.” you whispered, face retreating a little more back into his chest. “that was lame of me.” he mused, thumb still dragging comforting circles on your back.

“it gets worse.” you slightly laughed, but not lightheartedly. “you were with someone else. you had forgotten all about me.”

“oh.”

kuroo wasn’t quite sure what to say to you. he wasn’t sure if an apology was the right approach, after all, he didn’t technically have anything to apologise for. he hadn’t told his illusionary version of himself to be a dick, but nonetheless he thought you’d appreciate the notion regardless.

“i’m sorry,” his voice tainted with amusement but primarily concern. “i would never stand you up nor forget about you.” he affirmed, hand moving from your back to cup the side of your face. his eyes met yours as he desperately searched for any signs of disbelief in your expression. a wave of relief washed over him when he found none and you nodded at his honest words.

“i’m even more sorry you had thoughts of me even doing that, i hope i haven’t done anything to make you unconsciously think that way, but you know i could never do that to you.” his words were raw but genuine as the pad of his thumb swiped over your cheek gently.

“i know.” you whispered gently, small sniffles between each moment. kissing your forehead, kuroo wrapped his arms back around you as he pulled you back into him under the comforter. “i’ll stay awake until you back to sleep.” he insisted despite your head shaking.

“don’t be stupid, it was just a dream anyway it’s doesn’t matter, go back to sleep too it’s fine.” your voice was slightly wobbly and your pretty eyes were glassy, but you were adamant on not becoming a burden to your poor boyfriend.

“i’ll feel better if you let me do this. if not for you then let me do this for me.” he compromised, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your neck. “i’ll tell you all the reasons why i wouldn’t leave you or forget about you, it’ll make us both feel better.”

you looked up at him and saw his earnest expression silently begging you to let him do this. while kuroo wasn’t the type to voice out insecurities, you knew he had been affected you had unconsciously thought of him in such an out of character way, you knew he needed to affirm himself before falling back to sleep so you decided you were nobody to deny him of that.

“okay, but make sure you sleep soon.” you looked up at him firmly to which he only offered a gentle smirk to. “you better fall asleep fast then.” you rolled your eyes at his response but let your eyes drop once more as he leaned in to pressed a final kiss to your cheek.

“i love you.”

smiling softly, you whispered a soft “i love you too” back as your own grip tightened around his larger frame. hummed in content, kuroo admired your relaxed features before opening his mouth.

“i love the way you say my name when you’re either happy or proud of me.” he began as your face pressed into his chest, soft breathing pattern quickly returning to you.

“i love the fact you always remember small details about me that sometimes i even forget myself.” his voice was gentle, but intent on not only lulling you back to sleep, but satisfying himself to rest knowing he had made it explicitly clear how much he loved you.

“i love how you look when you wear my clothes.” he continued, eyes still focused on your now resting form. it was clear to him that the tiredness had taken over and he wasn’t obliged to continue talking. he wanted to though.

kuroo had told you that he’d tell you the reasons why he loved you and he’d rather do anything but break that statement to you. he didn’t care if it took him the rest of the night to tell you, he was set on listing through the things that had him so hooked on you, and he’ll be dammed to even think to stop before he’s even made a dent in his list.

glancing up at the digital clock on your nightstand he read the red lights 3:48AM before turning back to you. heart fluttering at just the sight of you, kuroo made himself comfortable as he prepared himself for a long night of talking.

[kokororyuu]

once more [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: it was impossible. he would never see you again, levi thought, but perhaps he had jinxed himself. though he didn’t regret a single thing.

warnings ⚠️: angst, major character death(s), manga SPOILERS, (brief) suicidal thoughts, brief description of gore

word count: 2k

author’s note: i think this is one of my best works yet, like i literally LOVE love this one :>>, i think the only part i was kinda “ehhh” about was the part where [eradicated] dies because i cannOT write gore </3, but either way, have fun reading, bubs!!

PART ONE: miles apart

he missed you.

god, he missed you so much.

he still remembered your touch, your smile, your words, no matter how irritating they’d get when they interfered with work, but he couldn’t even blame you for being on his mind. after all, it was him who was attracted to you.

and in your last moments, you had whispered the same to him.

you were so addictive, like the tea he served himself daily. not too bitter, not too sweet, a perfect mix of flavors that seemed to wash away his unspoken confessions on the tip of his tongue every time he took another sip, leaving a bitter aftertaste and unsettled emotions.

levi couldn’t stay still in his office, burying himself in paperwork only to change his mind and toss his quill down with a sigh. he drew back the curtain in his office to stare blankly at the moon, now full as it had been that day; bright, blue, and breathtakingly beautiful. he scoffed at himself, he couldn’t believe he had caught himself gawking at the moon, its light casting shadows that danced around his room with the swishing curtains.

he just wanted to see you once more.

not mangled and broken, bleeding out beside him outside the walls, but with that familiar smile of yours that shone brighter than the stars, the sun, and held warmth that levi craved so badly.

the thought lingered for a second as he continued to gaze at the moon before he shook his head, how foolish of me, to think he would be able to see you again. his fingers traced the windowsill as he stayed deep in thought, maybe in another life, he mused before pulling out a book hange gave him from one of the drawers on his desk, lighting a lamp and beginning to read where he had previously left off…

“then i defy you, stars!”

levi didn’t know how he ended up in this position.

having fought over a dozen of titans, most abnormal, on his own after all of the cadets he had taken with him died, it wasn’t a surprise that he couldn’t avoid the quick swing of the titan on his left as he tried to dig his last pair of blades, now dull, into another titan’s nape.

he would’ve gotten up, could’ve gotten up, but he had sustained severe injuries earlier from trying to save the other cadets as well as save himself.

this was bad, really bad,

or maybe it wasn’t.

levi didn’t have the choice to decide, his limbs numb from the abuse and gaze hazy as he eyed the titan’s unusual gait, its figure stomping closer and closer. a heavy breath pushed past his lips as he used the last of his adrenaline rush to hook his odm gear into a nearby tree, swinging up onto a high branch and propping himself against it.

he wheezed, oxygen exiting his lungs and leaving him completely and utterly breathless from the exertion, but he figured that if he was up here, he at least wouldn’t die from the jaws of those horrid beasts and by this antagonizing blood loss instead.

blood seeped out from his wounds slowly and dyed his tattered uniform red, and with the silence and his vision fading in and out, he found himself thinking back to just a few months prior, his gaze latched onto the moon that peeked through the trees.

he wondered if he’d look like how you did that day, lifeless, cold, empty, soulless. he hoped your death wasn’t as painful as this, because no matter how numb the winter that nipped at his skin made him feel, there was still the hot searing pain spreading from the gaping wound on his side.

did you go through this much pain? did you suffer?

if it weren’t from the injuries, was it from his ignorance and blatant refusal to spare just a glance at you before you passed?

death was never a scary thing to levi, at least, not his own. he imagined times where it might’ve been better to just end it all. less suffering, less pain, no more losing loved ones. he hoped you felt the same when you died, that you left without regrets after your whispered-out words of confession.

once more,

he laughed, though it sounded more like a gurgle with all the blood pushing past his lips with every slowing rise and fall of his chest. he guessed it was about time his wish came true.

and then everything went black, and levi was swallowed up by oh-so-sweet embrace of the afterlife.

“levi?” a familiar voice called out in both confusion and surprise. “i wasn’t expecting you here this soon,”

he opened his eyes faster than he should’ve, immediately squinting at how bright it was, wherever he was. he wasn’t on a tree branch bleeding out anymore, instead, he was laying on soil, the dirt soft under his fingertips. the sky was bright and blue, a contrast to the dark sky of night that was only lit by the lonesome moon a second ago.

and most importantly, there was erwin, commander erwin, crouching down by his side with a look of mirth. levi’s gaze flickered around the area, eyeing cadets he remembered from years ago up and about, laughing and conversing with one another.

what is this, some type of heaven? he doubted that was what this was with all the death he had brought upon humanity, but he was sure this was some type of afterlife. erwin let out a soft chuckle at levi’s bewildered glare that demanded answers to silent questions.

“i know you have inquiries, but it’d be best to save them for later. i’m sure there’s people who’d like to see you first,” he stood to his feet and reached out a hand toward the other, him hesitantly grabbing onto it and pulling himself up from the ground. levi let himself be led to a circle of people chatting amongst themselves with bright smiles.

they welcomed him with open arms, poking fun at his arrival and calling him, “a newbie to the afterlife,” with his rapid fire questioning and quick glances around the open field.

“you’re looking for them, aren’t you, captain?” a former scout called out and teased.

levi couldn’t deny the obviously true accusation, scowling and crossing his arms as a defense mechanism, “zip it, cadet. afterlife or not, i can still beat your ass,” a few giggles and laughs erupted from the group while some sheepishly tried to cover them up with coughs and clearing their throats.

it was true, he was looking for you. he had hoped you would’ve been the first person he saw, but you were nowhere to be found. an anxious feeling gnawed at him and thoughts filled with doubt swirled in his chest.

did you not want to see him?

you probably didn’t, especially after what he had done.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

the words stained his conscience red.

“i'm leaving,” levi turned on his heels and began walking without waiting for a response. erwin rose a brow at his murmur but nodded nonetheless, bidding him goodbye.

the skies were so blue, littered with white clouds that levi felt he could touch if he so wished to with just a raise of his hand. there was no sun, surprisingly enough

with how bright the afterlife was, and he was thankful for this. no sun meant no heat, no hot days that needed to be fought through or sweaty palms and heavily drawn breaths.

however, no sun meant no moon.

it was strange to not have nighttime anymore, no more stars to gaze at as he thought to himself and let those thoughts consume him. did they sleep? levi swept the area with his eyes and didn’t see a single room or bed. he wasn’t going to get used to this anytime soon, though he was thankful for how he strangely felt energized, or at least not drained from his insomnia like he usually was.

nevermind that, levi shook his head before scanning the area once more, where were you? he felt like his feet had been bringing him in circles—had he seen that cadet already? had this person already greeted him?—perhaps he was just lost at this point, in a crowd of people he knew or never seen before, but out of everyone there, there wasn’t a single sign of you.

he noticeably slumped, maybe he’d never see you again like he had prepared himself for. he didn’t deserve it after all.

but oh, did he miss you.

levi squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment and sighed, a furrow in his brow as he tried to settle the sudden drop of disappointment that settled in his stomach.

he just wanted to see you once more.

“levi!”

the man nearly tripped over his own feet at the voice that called for him. levi felt his heart soar, his skin buzz in anxiety, anticipation, hope.

he turns and—

it’s you.

you were running toward him from across the field filled with numerous scouts, weaving through the bustling crowd with that grin of yours, and your eyes, his light, twinkling so brightly at him.

you were coming closer and closer, and if levi just reached his arm out he could—

wait, his arm froze midair, his foot catching on the ground as he paused before your open arms.

he was scared.

in your last moments, he had completely ignored you, had watched you leave the world as you confessed your love with your last dying breath. maybe you wouldn’t want to see him, to hear his pathetic excuses and apologies, but alas, you proved him wrong, surging forward in the second of hesitation and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

levi tensed up, his arms hovering in the air like an idiot before he heard you murmur, “just relax, levi,”

and with those few words, levi felt every single tension in his body leave within seconds, his hands coming up to grip onto the back of your shirt as if begging you not to leave him, again.

though the whole situation felt so surreal, and he felt if he didn’t hug you tight enough, you’d slip through his fingertips, never to be seen again.

you were real, levi came to this revelation when he buried his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, your heartbeat thumping as wildly as his as the two of you embraced.

“hi again, levi,” you brushed a hand through his ebony black hair with a breathless laugh.

“hello, my light,” levi whispered softly, sending a tickling breath to your neck, though he was pretty sure you heard if the little squeeze you gave around his shoulders were any indicator. you pulled away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes twinkling with such adoration, god, it was like you could see the stars.

“you know...” he murmured, his eyes closing and hiding their galaxies. levi felt his heartbeat pick up, and his hands trembled as they squeezed at your waist.

you were patient, tracing soothing patterns into his nape as you tugged him just a little closer, your lips brushing against his ever so slightly and sending a sweet chill down his spine. he almost became distracted from his original goal, his lips mindlessly chasing yours but stopping at the little tug you gave his head of hair. “go on, levi,”

god, had he missed the way you said his name. it sounded so perfect, and with your soft encouragement, levi drew in another shaky breath, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “the moon was always beautiful,”

explanations:

“i defy you, stars!”

this is a quote from shakespeare’s “romeo and juliet” !!! i interpret it as levi going against fate to be with you again :>

“the moon was always beautiful,”

this is a connection to “miles apart.” he’s basically saying that he has always loved you :D

[janetbrown711]

Princess Angelina II was never fond of being told what to do.

Ever since she was a little girl, she loved being defiant. However, her parents were strict and had their ways of forcing her to do things anyway, so she adapted. If her parents wanted her to study? Fine, then she would read every book in the library and become far more intelligent than most of her teachers and would “smart ass” them constantly. Of course, her parents disapproved, but Angelina knew they technically couldn’t punish her this way, as she was doing what they asked after all. Still, she was aware that she was treading on thin ice, but she continued anyway, as it felt like the only thing keeping her sane. 

It was this mentality she carried with her during her least favorite activity of all: 

Meeting Suitors. 

The moment Angelina turned 16, her mother began arranging meeting after meeting with different princes and noblemen, all of which she hated. They were always so prideful and stuffy, they never had a sense of joy or humor in them. So, as was natural for her, she never refused to see them, but while they talked she’d always attack their pride and make sure they never wanted to see her again. She had hoped her actions would’ve given her a reputation as an “ineligible princess” but alas, rumors of her beauty and singing kept them coming. 

And so today Angelina found herself preparing yet again to meet with another boring suitor, this time a prince who was soon coming of age and was to rule the neighboring kingdom fo Ticktockia. Angelina spent several weeks reading up on the history of the country, as well as learning their customs, and knew she was ready by the time he arrived. 

“I don’t want you to play any funny games this time, Angelina. Ticktockia is a very important ally, and I don’t want you embarrassing my good name,” her mother, Queen Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca I, was quick to remind her right before the doors of the throne room were to open. Angelina wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t have the energy or the time, as the doors were opened, and the prince entered. 

The prince of Ticktockia was a human, which she had expected. He was a particularly... interesting piece of work. He was growing a mustache, but he was very bad at it, and so it looked wispy and gross. his fashion sense was something else entirely, and he wore a giant clock on his chest, which Angelina recalled as the symbol of Ticktockia (as it was the meaning behind their name). 

“Hello,” He greeted her, but didn’t bow. Angelina rolled her eyes internally and curtsied. 

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” She said. He only nodded in response. 

This was gonna be fun.

“Well, off you two go then,” Angelina the First waved the pair off, and Salazar held his arm out and Angelina took it, and they went off into the halls of the castle. 

“So... Prince... Salad bar is it?” Angelina asked. 

“Salazar,” He corrected, snappy. Angelina smirked. 

“Right, right, right, my apologies,” She said. “So... where are you from again?”

“Ticktockia, one of Warnerstock’s most important allies..? Surely you’ve heard of us,” He said, annoyed. 

“Not really, no,” She shrugged, removing her arm from his. 

“Oh please, we’ve made all of your clocks,” He pointed out. 

“Oh, those old things? They break every other week, we honestly should replace them all,” She lamented, internally pleased when she saw his anger rise and saw him desperately try to hide it. 

“Well then,” he huffed. “Perhaps I shouldn’t blame you, you are just a woman after all. I shouldn’t expect you to know the history of such an important country.” 

Oh he did not. 

“I can assure you Salazar, I know more of Ticktockia’s history than you do,” she warned. He smirked. 

“Sure you do,” He said. 

“Who was the 17th king?” She quizzed. Salazar paused to think. 

“King... Edmund?” He asked. Angelina shook her head. 

“King Raymond the Beloved. He helped create an era of peace in the land and helped create new trade routes for kingdoms all across the lands,” Angelina said. 

“Everyone knows King Raymond. I was simply... pretending not to know,” He so obviously lied. 

“Alright... who was the 20th king?” She asked. Salazar thought once more, stroking his gross wispy mustache. 

“Easy, King Walter,” He lifted his chin in the air. 

“Wrong. It’s your father, King Jonathan,” She said with a condescending smile. Salazar glared at her. 

“Well I never,” He huffed and crossed his arms. 

“Never what? Studied anything in your life? Because that’s something I’d believe. I mean, come on, who doesn’t know their own father?” She snorted. Salazar looked at her with disgust. 

“You are very unladylike,” He said. 

“It’s an art,” She replied.  

“Mhm,” He mumbled, continuing their walk through the castle once more. 

“So.. tell me... what about your kingdom do you know?” She asked. 

“We’re the number one supplier of clocks in the world,” He stated. 

“Right, but other kingdoms are coming up close behind, so I’d keep a close eye on that if I were you,” Angelina pointed out. 

“Ridiculous,” He scoffed. 

“Oh, but it really isn’t. Your methods are old and outdated and so people from the outside have worked on improving your old designs and they’re only becoming better and better,” Angelina said nonchalantly. Salazar’s eye twitched. 

“You know, this really isn’t the way you should talk to your betrothed,” He snarled. 

“Betrothed? What on earth makes you think we’re betrothed?” Angelina jumped in surprise. 

“I was invited here, no?” He eyed her up and down. “I was promised a bride, and seeing as you’re the prettiest one around and I was invited, we’re betrothed,” he said, placing a hand on her waist, to which she then jumped back and away. 

“Hate to break it to you, dimwit, but that’s not how this works.” She outright glared at him. 

“Oh please, there’s no sense in fighting it,” He rolled his eyes. “I want you, and so you’re going to be mine. Nobody says no to me.”

“Oh I’m sure they do, you probably just ignore it or are too much of a moron to see it,” She spat. 

“I am not a moron.” He raised his voice, but Angelina wasn’t frightened. 

“Sure. And my name isn’t actually Angelina,” She rolled her eyes. “Get real, you know almost nothing about your own kingdom’s history, and I’m sure if I wanted to bore myself further I’d discover you know nothing of Warnerstock, and it’s very apparent you haven’t a single clue of manners or decency in front of a princess.” 

“I. Am. Not. A. Moron,” He clenched his fist. 

“Oh please! If I were to look up the word ‘moron’ in the dictionary, it would have a picture of you. I mean- assuming you’re betrothed to me just because my mother invited you here? My mother may hate my guts, but she’d never do that,” Angelina smirked.

“I can have anything I want, just watch me,” He growled, stepping towards her, and Angelina realized just how much taller he was than her. 

“You’re nothing more than an arrogant, stupid, brainless, spoiled baby that hasn’t heard ‘no’ nearly enough in his life,” She defied him, and he raised his hand and struck her across the face so hard, she fell to the floor with a loud thud. 

Angelina laid on the ground a moment, realizing what just happened, feeling the sting and burn in her cheek. Slowly, she sat herself up. 

“You hit me,” She looked up at him. He dusted off his hand. 

“You’re truly a disgusting creature, Angelina.” he scowled. “I showed you nothing but decency, and you lash out like the vicious animal you are.”

Not even wanting to dignify his bullshit, she instead called for the royal guards. Salazar’s eyes widened as four guards came into the room from their posts, and upon seeing their princess on the floor with a newfound bruise and the neighbor prince red in the face with anger, they were quick to separate the two. 

“I won’t forget about this Angelina. I’ll be back, and I’ll make sure to give you hell once I’m in charge,” He declared for all to hear as he was escorted out. Angelina shuddered as she was helped up by one of the guards. 

“You alright, Princess?” He asked. 

“I’m fine,” She said, not wanting to get into it. 

Despite the stinging in her cheek, she had done what she had to. 

“Just take me to my mother, I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear about this,” Angelina sighed. The guards nodded and she was escorted to her mother’s private study. She knocked on it once before entering. 

“Angelina, why am I not surprised?” Her mother didn’t look up from her paperwork, shaking her head. “What happened?”

“He had to leave early,” Angelina said. 

“He just barely arrived,” The queen remarked, before looking up at her daughter’s face and frowning. 

“Angelina, what did I tell you? I told you you had to be on your best behavior and you deliberately disobeyed me,” She set down her work. 

“Well gee, I’m sorry alright?” She rolled her eyes. 

“You and I both know that isn’t true. Honestly Angelina, why do you feel the need to sully the kingdom’s good name like this?” Angelina the First rubbed her forehead and stood. 

“Because it’s dumb. All of this is. The suitors, the manners, It’s just so dumb,” She complained. 

“Angelina, I’m not having this conversation again,” The queen stated. “These rules and rituals are tradition. You don’t have a choice. One day you will marry a suitor I picked out for you, whether it makes you happy or not.”

“I’d sooner die,” Angelina glared. 

“If you had any sense in you, you’d learn to bite your tongue, Angelina. Or do you want to be hit a second time today?” The queen raised her hand with her wedding ring on it and Angelina flinched. The queen smirked a little. 

“That’s what I thought,” She said, before sighing and returning to her paperwork. 

“We’ll have to reschedule the other suitors I had planned to visit this month until that bruise heals. We can’t have rumors spread,” She said, writing something down. If she had been feeling better, Angelina would’ve smiled. Her mother went silent a long moment, the only noise being the scratch of her quill touching the paper. Eventually her mother looked up at her, with an expression that looked like a mix of disgust, tiredness, and annoyance. 

“You can go now,” She said. Angelina curtsied for her mother, and then left.

For a while, Angelina found herself wandering the halls of the castle as she rubbed her bruise lightly. She knew she had done what she had to, but she still felt dazed. Perhaps it was from hitting her head, but she felt... odd. Light headed was the best term she could think to describe it. 

It wasn’t too long before Angelina noticed that she had wandered into the garden. That was good. The flowers and fountains did a lot to clear her mind on days like these. Eventually, she made her way to the middle, and sat down on the bench and watched fountain and birds that stopped to bathe in it. She couldn’t be sure of what she was feeling, but whatever it was, it was a lot.  

After awhile of just sitting there, a familiar voice called out, and Angelina looked up and felt herself revive a little. 

“Angelina! There you are,” William smiled and ran to sit down next to her. 

“Hi,” She smiled and scooted over so there was room. 

“How was your- oh my... what happened?” William gasped, referring to the bruise. 

“O-oh it was nothing, really,” Angelina brushed it off. 

“You’re hurt Lena,” He frowned with concern. Angelina took in a deep breath and sighed. 

“A suitor visited today- Prince Salazar of Ticktockia. I pushed things a little too far this time and well... he got pretty mad. And now my mother is pissed that I managed to make one of our strongest allies hate my guts,” Angelina chuckled sadly. 

“Lena... I’m so sorry. That’s terrible,” William said, his eyes watering. Angelina didn’t know how to respond. 

“William- I’m okay. Really. I’m used to it,” She tried to laugh it off. 

“You’re used to it?” His concern only grew and Angelina bit her words. 

“I-i mean...” She sighed. “You know my mother by now. I’m used to this.”

“Lena, I’m so sorry. Nobody should ever, ever hit you, especially your own mother,” William said. 

“Thank you William,” She smiled tiredly at him. 

“Lena, I swear to you, so long as I live, I’ll never let anyone hurt you like this ever again,” He held her hand and kneeled on the ground. 

“W-william, I-i don’t know what to say,” She sniffled, and realized her own eyes were starting to fill with tears. Quickly, she wiped them away. William then stood and pulled her into a tight and loving embrace. At first, Angelina was hesitant, but she chose to embrace it, and she hugged him back, and found herself quickly sobbing into his shoulder. 

“It’s okay Lena, I’m here. It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore,” he promised, and Angelina believed him. She felt safe in his arms, and never ever wanted to let go. She wanted to stay with him forever, safe and happy and secure. She knew he’d never hurt her, ever. 

She loved him. 

Princess Angelina the Second was in love with William. 

She smiled a little and embraced him even more. 

No matter what her mother tried to do or who she tried to set her up with, Angelina knew she was in love with William, and nothing was ever going to change that. 

[twstales]

Ahem, yes. I am not very good with word plays. This tale has gotten me a little bit flustered. I’ve done the utmost I can. Hopefully, it suits your tastes~

Ahh, this was quite hard to write. Malleus ended up soft though, I tried to expand the character’s personality with what was given. I hope it doesn’t differ too far. Now excuse me as I hide under the desk and never come out ;;

—————

“Tonight I have another tale to share with you. One of a thousand tales that capture the imagination”

The VIP lounge was silent aside from the quiet clicking of Azul’s pen. You were sitting in one of the sofas, waiting for him to finish his work for the day. You’d visit mostro from time to time after school, Azul doesn’t really mind your presence so you often welcomed yourself inside his lounge. Hearing the sound of pen againsts the table you looked towards the male. It seems like he’s finally finished with whatever documents he was writing.

‘Oh his tie looks a little loose’ you smiled at the thought, that was when a smal idea hits you “Hey, Azul.” The later turned his attention towards you “does something seem to be a problem, (Y/n)?” You smiled and approached him, doing few small gestures to fix his bow tie. “It looked a little loose.” A small laugh left your lips. Azul let out a nervous cough “Thank you I suppose.” Your actions had caught him off guard. Furthermore the close gap between the two of you did not help.

“You know, that uniform always looks good on you.” You giggled and placed your hands on each of his shoulders, leaning in you whispered “But I think it’s even better if we replace that uniform, ...with me” you bit your bottom lip, trying to contain yourself from letting out a satisfied laugh. Azul has known you long enough to get used to your flirty nature. He might’ve always been able to one up your pick up lines, but you know how physical contact affects him. Poor man is probably having an inner mental breakdown right now, or so you thought.

You were caught by surprise when he placed a hand on your back, pressing your bodies closer. “And I think yours would look better on my floor, don’t you agree.” He chuckled, his usual mischievous tone present. You were stoned and he was more than satisfied at your reaction. “Page 36 of 1001 pick up lines, I saw you carrying that book the other day.” He finally pulled away. Oh how much you wanted to punch that smug look off his face.

“Ah, silence? Are you perhaps disappointed?” He was taunting you. The colour of your face at that moment could’ve matches Riddle’s hair both out of embarrassment and annoyance. Your inner voice was telling you to back down but your pride says otherwise. There’s no way you’d let him win you over. Although your steps were shaky, you managed to approach him once more. Your next moves were blurry. Somehow you were now pushed up against the wall, arms around his neck and lips meeting for the umpteenth time. His glasses, long forgotten so as the various clothing that littered the floor. His next words were barely above a whisper but it served as a reminder for you,

“Finish what you started”

Jamil sighed as he looked at the amount of empty pages in your book. You’d asked him to help you with your homework earlier today. Thus you are now sitting next to him in Scarabia’s lounge. However he wasn’t expecting your homework to be completely empty.

“(Y/n)..” had he expected too much from you? You laughed nervously in response “You know I usually do my tasks, it’s just that this time, it completely slipped my mind....” you trailed off, normally you would’ve tried to get it done by yourself but the deadline was less than 12 hours away. You needed to get this done and he just happened to be available.

Jamil sighed once again, he looked defeated. Seeing him made you feel a little more than guilty. You blurted out the first thing that came into your mind. “Hey, don’t look so upset. I might not do my homework but I can do you.” You smiled, eyes fluttering upon saying the words. It was your attempt at cheering him up.

“What?”

“What.”

He had gotten used to your flirty nature, you thought a pick up line could cheer him up. Apparently it seems like he wasn’t in the mood for that. “Jamil? I’m kh-“ your words were cut short. Suddenly, you were lying against the red carpet, Jamil’s hand on either side of your head pining you down. “Wanna try and say that again?” He asked, lips curving up into a smirk.

“Yeah... Let’s do homework.” A nervous laugh left your lips. “Why are you so eager to do your homework now that you’re supposed to be doing something else?” He didn’t buy your answer, if you wanted to tease him then you should be prepared to deal with the consequences. “S-something else?” You quivered under his gaze. His hand brushed your hair back, The proximity between the two of you were almost non-existent at that point. “you’re lucky we’re in the lounge” his whispered, though you heard him clear.

He sighed letting you go. Closing the few books on the table, he stacked them up neatly before standing up carrying them with him. “W-where are you going?” You were still struck by the incident just minutes before. “To my room,” He answered your question like it was obvious “you still need help with these don’t you?” He referred to the books in his hand though the small smirk on his lips tells you otherwise. “Huh? Oh yeah.” You quickly gathered yourself before following him. Whether there was any actual homework done that night, we’ll have to see.

Malleus was always amazed by your rather... straight forward nature. You always seem to have no problem throwing him jokes and brushing them aside right after. He often sees humans jest around with each other, he thought it was the human’s way of communication. Alas he was eager to study these ‘jokes’ of yours unknowing that they were actually risqué pick up lines. Asking lilia was just another one of his mistakes.

“I'd hide every chair in the world just so you'd have to sit on my face.”

He only repeated what Lilia had told him to say. “H-“ you blinked once, twice, making sure you had heard him right. You were speechless, unable to responses to his words. The dimly lit living room did little to hide your flustered expression. He didn’t know why you looked so embarrassed. “Child of man, are you alright?” Did he perhaps offend you? Did he do something wrong?

“You want me to sit on what now?” You asked again, half of you hoping you had misheard him. Did he actually know what that means? “I believe I told you I’d have you sit on my face” he said it with such a straight face it was painful to watch. “Does the joke not suit you? I see you use them often I thought I’d learn about them as well.” He added.

“D-do you even know what that means?” You can’t believe all this time he had been mistaking your dirty pick up lines as some form of human communication. Well- it is, but he really shouldn’t be going around saying things like that. “I suppose it does have a rather erogenous meaning but I was also told they were not to be taken literally?” He was now deep in thought. It was more than distressing to see him take these things so seriously.

“Well, I can’t say they’re completely untrue...” You trailed off, still averting his gaze. “how so?” He was now curious at your statement. You spent a good 5 minutes explaining to him about pick up lines, all the while still trying to hide your embarrassment. It’s quite ironic, considering how much you use it on him.

“.........” he seems to be deep in thought for the umpteenth time that night. You could only sit there in shame as flashbacks of every single flirty encounter your had with him ran through your mind. “So, all this time you actually meant your words?” He broke the silence. “No.., yes” you let out an awkward cough. Hoping the ground could just swallow you whole.

“I apologize” he placed a hand on yours “I’m not very good at reading people’s hearts. Perhaps, tell me if you’d like something next time.” A soft smile gracing his features though it didn’t last long and was soon replaced by a mischievous smirk

“Though if you insist on teasing me, I do not mind teaching you a lesson.”

[thestyleswritings]

Sweet Tooth

"So, why is it you're here?" You ask the brunette casually after taking a breath. Trying to play it cool by leaning back in your seat, nearly tipping yourself off of it. Luckily for you, the boy seems to have good reflexes, catching your arm before you could embarrass yourself further.

"Careful there, love. You'll hurt yourself." He says in a raspy baritone voice, steadying you before continuing, "I'm here because I've got a sweet tooth that can sometimes get me into trouble."

Or - The one where you meet Harry at the dentist’s office and things get sticky.

(4.3K) 

Warnings: Language, Smut

"You know you have to go to the dentist eventually, right?" Your friend Maggie chastises, fully aware of how truly dental-phobic you are and have always been.

 "I understand... But what if I just floss really well? Do I still have to go? Surely it cancels out." You try to negotiate with her, even though you know you'll just end up in the chair either way.

 "You're ridiculous, you know. Your appointment is at 4 and you'll be there whether you like it or not." Maggie rolls her eyes at you, turning her attention back to the flatscreen adorning the wall in her living room.

 "Think of it this way," she starts, sipping the iced coffee she had all but forgotten about, "the hygienist might be really hot."

 "Yeah, the 50-year-old woman that cleans my teeth is a dime." You snort, gathering your coat and bag before standing.

 "Anyways, I'd better be off. Wouldn't want to be late to my execution." You say over your shoulder, already halfway to the door. You only hear a scoff, but you assume if you turned to face your friend, you would've seen her roll her eyes at your dramatic tendencies.

—

 The train ride to the dentist's office did not take nearly as long as you'd hoped it would, leaving you with 30 minutes to spare before 4 came around. You saw this as either an opportunity to go window shopping very quickly or to sit in the waiting room to try and get comfortable with the atmosphere. You knew it was a bit ridiculous to be afraid to go to the dentist alone at the age of 21, but it was a legitimate fear for you! You'd been knicked as a child one too many times and it stuck with you ever since.

 By the time you decided to go upstairs, the waiting room was full of children, adults and elderly people. You didn't even know where to start looking for a seat. Your eyes scanned for a seat that wasn't directly next to someone, especially not the mum with vomit on the shoulder of her shirt, but alas there was no such luck. The only seat that semi appealed to you was directly next to a young man with messy brown hair - probably not far off your age - and he was so handsome, it made you nervous. He wore tan corduroy pants that were almost reminiscent of bellbottoms, a baby blue and white pinstriped button-up with the sleeves about a quarter of the way rolled up beneath a navy coloured cotton sweater vest that had what appeared to be sheep laced on the torso. The coat you assumed he wore here was shoved between himself and the armrest, one long sleeve perched on the chair aside him. He wore glasses low on the bridge of his nose, legs crossed and brows furrowed as he read, idle hand resting atop one of his black Vans. You squinted to see the cover of the book, seeing that it was Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, one of your favourites. You wonder if it's also one of his, or if he's a first-time reader, but the thought is fleeting; your subconscious prying cut off by movement from the subject.

 He could probably feel your gaze on his figure, causing his eyes to snap up from the book perched in his lap to lock directly with your own. It's almost like he could feel how uncomfortable you were, standing off to the side next to the coat rack and magazine table. Almost like he couldn't help himself from asking you to sit down wordlessly by moving his long dark coat from drooping onto the seat beside his very own, then faintly nodding to it.

 You could feel your throat swell as you walked to him, praying to any god willing to listen that you wouldn't trip on your own feet or snag your knee on the coffee table. You were notorious for being a bit clumsy. You noticed, as you got closer, the intensity of his stare. The green of his eyes nearly causing your breath to catch at the back of your throat.

 Taking a seat, you move your canvas bag to your lap before slightly facing him. You didn't know the proper etiquette for things like this. Should you have just ignored him after you sat, or do you carry on with a conversation? You raise your gaze once again to look him in the eyes, and unlike moments earlier, he had already been looking at you. Your bottom lip gets caught beneath your upper front teeth, biting the soft flesh to keep in a gasp. He was truly a specimen up close, and you wanted nothing more at that moment than the ability to freeze time, just to get a longer look at him without being caught.

"So, why is it you're here?" You ask the brunette casually after taking a breath. Trying to play it cool by leaning back in your seat, nearly tipping yourself off of it. Luckily for you, the boy seems to have good reflexes, catching your arm before you could embarrass yourself further.

 "Careful there, love. You'll hurt yourself." He says in a raspy baritone voice, steadying you before continuing, "I'm here because I've got a sweet tooth that can sometimes get me into trouble."

 He must know how that sounded.

 "I'm uh, I'm just here for a cleaning and some x-rays." You wince at the words that pass your lips, cringing at the thought that soon someone would come and call your name, leading you into that room which has a smell you nary forget.

 The boy laughs, clearly both hearing and seeing your distaste at the thought. You forego being annoyed at his mocking and leap straight to intrigue. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the faint scrunch of his nose, the way his head tilted just the slightest bit backwards. It all pulled you in and refused to let you go.

 "Tha's not too bad, y'know. I have to get one of my teeth drilled into." He says like it's just a minor inconvenience. You can practically feel the blood drain from your face. Drill!? Like a fucking construction site!?

 He laughs again, this time shaking his hair away from his eyes afterwards. "I have a cavity. I told you, the sweet tooth gets me into trouble." He tells you, and you could swear he winked.

 "I thought you were using a pun as a pickup line." You say before you can stop yourself, preparing yourself for him to look back at you like you were some delusional weirdo.

 "It might've had a dual purpose, yeah." He smirks, a deep dimple making itself known on the side of his face. As if he could become more attractive. It almost makes you want to roll your eyes.

 "Alright. So, the book. You enjoying it? It's one of my favourites." You tell him, gesturing towards the book, now closed.

 "Weird way to phrase it. The book is kinda dark, wouldn't you say?" He counters, resting his elbow on his knee before placing his palm on his face. Fully engaging you in conversation now.

 "Hell yeah. But it's so beautifully written and so gripping. Is this your first read?" You wonder aloud.

 "I keep it on rotation. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion and Marie Kondo's The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up seem to wind up in that rotation too. Sometimes I throw in Love Is A Mixtape from Rob Sheffield if I'm feeling particularly mushy. You?" He tugs his lip in thought, awaiting your reply.

 "I love Marie Kondo. She's the only reason I keep my apartment tidy. I love basically any book, but I keep It's Kind of A Funny Story on my bedside table at all times. I'm drawing a blank right now, but my bookshelf gets proper attention, I swear." You laugh, triggering his own to bubble up from his throat.

 "So wha's your name, sweetheart?" He asks, and you nearly don't tell him. The sound of the nickname falling from his lips is too tempting to ignore.

 "Mhm... You first." You challenge, squinting as if daring him to inquire again before answering you.

 "M'Harry. Friends call me H. You can call me when I get outta here at 5:30 to have coffee at my place." He smiles. You'd usually get up and sit somewhere else, with the puke stained mum for instance, but your legs won't allow it. And why should they? What's the problem with entertaining this pretty, pretty man?

 "I preferred the sweet tooth comment, personally, but I won't prosecute you for that stinker." Playfully tutting before actually telling him your name. He says it under his breath as if testing the way it felt on his tongue before smiling again.

 “Well, I wasn’t joking, I’d actually like to have you over for coffee if you’d like. I promise I’m not a weird pervert. I can even tell my roommate to come home early if it makes you feel better.” Harry fumbled with his words, further endearing you. You snort a laugh at his phrasing before nodding your head.

“You don’t have to call your roommate, I’m sure you’re not a murderer. Anyway, my friend has my location on so she’ll know exactly where to send the cops in the event I turn up missing.” You gest, nudging his forearm with your elbow.

—

 You didn't know how you'd ended up in this situation. In the hour and a half it took for Harry's appointment to be completed, you walked around aimlessly talking to Maggie- or frantically shouting if you asked Maggie- about what steps to take from here. You had actually been so caught up in this whole "date" ordeal that the teeth cleaning breezed by. She snorted a laugh at your obvious hesitation, knowing this wasn't very "you". You weren't usually the type to even accept compliments, but here you were, ready to risk it all for a man you'd met a mere 120 minutes ago.

 "But what if he's a player? What do I do then?" You'd asked, answered yet again with a snort.    "You fuck him and forget it. It happens all the time. It's just a bit of good fun." Maggie reassured you. To her, a casual 6 o'clock shag was nothing out of the ordinary.    Pacing around Fifth Avenue, you awaited a text. A simple "hey" to set your anxieties through the roof. Anything. You just wanted to be out of your misery already.    It wasn't like you'd never done this before, or even that you'd only done it a handful of times, but something about the prospect of hooking up with a boy from your dentist's office felt strange. Did people meet their soul mates this way, or was this really an odd thing? Don't people usually meet in clubs and bars? There's hardly anything sexy about having your teeth scraped and drilled into. Maybe you could spin an innuendo out of that if you tried. The moment your phone buzzed, you couldn't help the squeal that passed your lips.

H 127 W4th Street, Apartment 3F

—

 You'd only gone over for a coffee and a chat, honestly. So how you ended up with Harry's lips attached to your neck, you hadn't the fuzziest clue. If you were being honest, it was more on you than him.

 "So you've got a sweet tooth." You say, smirking from behind the brim of the mug as you watched him take a sip from his own.    "Ah, the rumours are true." He tuts, taking a sip of the black coffee.

 "But your coffee is black, and you didn't put any sugar in it." You point out, deadpan.

 "Doesn't mean I'm not naughty sometimes." He's talking about the sugar, you know he is. But his eyes are telling you he wants to go further into the discussion. Taunting, almost.

 "Prove it."

 So that's how you'd ended up here, really. With your fists scrunching up his baggy striped shirt, both of your breath becoming shallower and shallower as your lips smacked together. He had taken off the vest before you'd arrived, you noticed in your slight haze. His kisses trailed from your lips to your cheek, from your cheek to your jaw, then your neck. Each touch of his wet lips leaving a lingering buzz to your skin. He pulled away from your neck momentarily, breathing heavily before biting onto his own bottom lip.

 "You wanna...?" Harry trailed off, chest rising and falling noticeably, lips shining under his dim room light. You saw his eyes flick towards a door to the left of you both. You could feel your heart drop to your stomach, or rather, beneath your bellybutton. You know the feeling well. At that moment, you decide to throw caution to the wind. Who's to say this wasn't the time to sew your wild oats, so to speak?

 "You asking if I want a shag?" You smirk back at him. He really wasn't as scary as he seemed at first. He actually seemed to be your equal; nervously navigating life with a bit of sarcasm and a dash of wit.

 "You're mad. But yes." Harry laughs in bemusement. Perhaps he had pegged you for shier than you appeared now. Not that he'd complain.

 The two of you stand, Harry quickly grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles before pulling you towards the closed door.

 "I er- obviously wasn't expecting a bird over after the doctors visit, so my rooms in shambles at the moment, sorry." He admits sheepishly. You just raised one shoulder in a shrug in response, giggling at the way his cheeks dusted rosy pink and the way he pronounced the word obviously. Obvioushry.

 Stepping inside, you see that he was massively overexaggerating. There were a few fun coloured tops on the ground in a heap, accompanied by another small pile of trousers and jeans. Clearly, he'd meant to do the washing up when he came home, but not everything always goes according to plan. You certainly didn't expect this either.

 Your thoughts are instantly placed aside as you felt two strong hands on either of your hips and the steady stream of breath upon your neck, soft lips dragging along the surface there. You roll your head to the side to grant him more of a canvas to paint his wet kisses, subtly pushing your behind into him. The groan that vibrates your skin tells you that he felt it. More gracefully than you'd ever be able to manage, your top is removed from your body by the man behind you in a flash.

 "Le's get comfortable, yeah? You'll be here a while." The gruff tone of his voice so near to your ear excites you, sending a shiver down the column of your spine. As you sit on his bed, you raise your gaze to observe him. A tall, gangly thing, but somehow solid and muscular simultaneously. His nimble fingers are quick to undo the buttons of the shirt adorning his torso, revealing intricate artwork penned on his skin. From where you sat, you could see two birds, a butterfly and a birdcage. You wondered what moved him to get these particular pieces.  

"You'll have to excuse me if 'm a bit rubbish, it's been ages," Harry laughs pathetically, capturing his bottom lip once again beneath his endearingly large front teeth. You don't even get a moment to react as he lunges forth, cementing your lips together in a harsh kiss that does little to undo the ball of tension you've felt building since you'd arrived. You feel the weight of his groin pressed against your own, slowly rocking back and forth, side to side. The pressure is delicious and you can't remember the last time you'd felt this exhilarated thanks to another person.

 His lips detach from your own again, opting to kiss your exposed chest instead, grabbing the cup of your bra before looking to you with pleading eyes. Begging to see you in nothing but his embrace. The granting nod of your head is slight, but he notices. He pulls the cup down with no trouble, laying the thick of his tongue against your areola, lapping it around the area like he was trying to lick up all the frosting from a cupcake.

 You felt dizzy as he began to suck on it, a moan being ripped from the pit of your chest. The noise seemed to spur Harry on, biting down softly before kissing down from your chest to your midsection, only stopping to peer up at you. Making sure you were still all in and just as eager as he was. The rational part of your brain knew where he was trailing his kisses. You knew he fully intended to put his mouth to good use, but it didn't stop your mind from the nervous thoughts it was producing.

 "You want me to prove I've got a sweet tooth, angel? I'll prove it to ya," Harry says, breath shallow in pure excitement. If the situation weren't so filthy, you'd think it wholesome. A kiss is pressed to your upper thigh, causing your muscles to clench and your breathing to halt. You could feel each breath that passed through his nostrils, washing over the delicate plush skin it hit.

 Harry took not a second to prepare for you, instead just peeling the pink lace from your behind and tossing them to the corner of his room. He stopped your legs from closing, taking a moment to peer between your legs where you were no doubt dripping for him. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't so eager, but from the way his nostrils flare and his eyes darken, you can tell he may not mind it.

 "Looks sweet, y'know," he breathes, warm breath now coating you in the most sinfully delightful way. You look down at him fast enough to catch his tongue leave his mouth to find your centre, immediately causing your body to tense. He started slowly at first, giving you a deep kiss between your legs before beginning to stroke his tongue against your clit in quick succession. It was mind-blowing, how quickly you felt yourself unravel. Your eyes wanted to clench shut desperately, but your mind wouldn't allow it. You couldn't possibly tear your eyes from the sight of the lower half of Harry's face pressed flat against your aching cunt, licking sucking and nibbling to his heart's content. His strong hands gripping your hips in an attempt to steady your rocking body. Your moans picked up with his rhythm, hand sneaking down to grasp his long locks between your fingers.

 "Harry, ungh, I'm gonna, uh! Fuck," you cried, tried warning him of your imminent end, but your voice just wouldn't allow it. You could faintly feel Harry moving the mattress with his quick ruts to the bed in search of some form of release, groaning and moaning against your sensitive skin.

 "C'mon then, lovie. Tastes so good, want more," He coaxes, voice deeper than it had been when he'd spoken earlier. He shook his tongue against you, releasing one of his hands from your hip to slide a finger into you, curving once he'd buried it as far as you'd permit. He removed it before twirling it back in, swivelling it in a circular motion and repeating. The combination of his wicked tongue, finger and moans had you coming to your end and had Harry lapping it up like a dog in heat.

 "God! Harry," You moaned loudly, holding tighter onto his hair. You knew you ought to ease up a bit, but he continued driving his finger in and out of you, nearly making you lose your mind. He was groaning against you, tongue never letting up until you'd finally had enough, pulling your legs together and pushing his head away.

 "Told ya I have a sweet tooth. I reckon I'll have you over at least once a week, if you'll let me." He smirks cheekily from the end of the bed, swiping the back of his hand across his chin to rid himself of your slick. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Instead of speaking, you reach down to grab at his shoulder, weakly attempting to pull him up the bed. He chuckles at your feeble try, accommodating you by dragging himself up to your face, kissing your nose gingerly.

 "Please Harry, I-" You didn't want to seem desperate, but at the moment, you felt terribly empty and you wanted him to just get on with it. You could feel the heavy length of him sat right on your clit, the corduroy material of his pants giving a certain friction that was fulfilling, but not entirely.

 "M' mouth wasn't enough, pet? Want more? Want me to stuff ya full?" He murmurs the filthy words against your skin, nipping at it every once in a while. You nod so vigorously he's afraid your head will fall to the ground. With another deep chuckle, he places a soft kiss to the crown of your head as he reaches to his bedside table for a condom.

 "Sure about this? I can just wank off if you don't wanna," Harry reassures her, fidgeting with the foil packaging. You can't help but press a firm kiss to the beauty mark by his lip, giggling at his words.

 "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't make me beg for it." You plead, fully aware that you'd beg in a heartbeat if it meant you could see this pretty boy in such a vulnerable state. He didn't have to know that, though.

 He nodded before unwrapping the plastic sheath, unravelling it on himself before giving himself a few purposeful tugs. The tension of his bicep and the soft grunts causing you to ache for him. He guides himself down to where he knows you're ready to take him, locking eyes with yours once more before shoving his hips forward. He didn't stop until he was bottomed out, heavy balls resting atop your behind. The initial push had you both reeling; clenched eyes and furrowed brows as you both adjusted to the new feeling. You'd never been with anyone bigger, and he could've sworn he'd never felt such a warm, wet, inviting cunt in his life. He could've blown his load right then.

  "God, princess. You've got the tightest little pussy, haven't you?" He was egging you on, wanting you to become more vocal. Dying to hear the strain in your voice, fully fucked out. You whimper in reply, jutting your hips up into his to get him to move. Your motion caught him off guard, causing the muscles in his stomach to become taught as he groaned.

 "Gotta warn a lad if you're gonna move, lovie. Nearly nutted off." Harry breathed a laugh before pulling his hips back halfway, slowly inching himself back in. You'd never felt such pleasure from such minimal movement, but the way he was digging into you had you breathless in no time.

 "Good, so so good," you panted out, gripping his shoulders tightly as if you'd float away otherwise. Both of your bodies were working together like a well-manufactured machine, pushing and pulling in the best ways.

 "Yeah? You like it slow, then? Like it when you can feel me here?" Harry boasted, pressing his large palm on your tummy just below your belly button. The next thrust he delivered made you scream out involuntarily, backing up towards the top of the bed. You hadn't expected to feel him brush against the palm of his own hand, but the added pressure set you off, rolling your eyes backwards and crying out in pure bliss.

 "Fuck, keep sayin' my name, lovie. Neighbours'll hear me giving you a proper fucking shag," He groaned, picking up the pace minutely, holding onto your hip with his free hand. "Don't run from it, darlin, take me. Fucking feel me," you could tell he was losing himself, slowly beginning to babble incoherently. You felt a surge of arousal at the fact you had this stranger in such a state.

 "Harry, I'm gonna fucking come again," you moaned loudly, upon his request but mainly because you really couldn't help yourself. Your moans were becoming higher pitched and more frequent, and you could tell it was feeding Harry's ego very well, fueling his own end.

 "Yeah? G'na come for me again? G'na let me feel it?" He grunted, bottoming out and swivelling his pelvis atop your own, pubis rubbing against your already overstimulated clit. That, in combination with his gruff voice and the sweat dripping off his own body onto yours, finished you off, clenching your core down onto his stiff prick deep within you, throwing your head back in defeat. You let the overwhelming pleasure course through your veins, bucking your hips blindly into his and mutter his name repeatedly.

 Seeing your beautiful face screwed up in pleasure whilst you whined and moaned that he was so good really did Harry in. In fact, a particularly filthy cry of his name is what did it for Harry, spewing all the spunk he was worth into the latex. His body folded, narrowly missing your body as he collapsed onto his Queen sized mattress, a sweaty and exhausted mess.

It took the pair of you a couple of minutes to catch your breath before either of you spoke. You thought he may never say anything, but as he lifted his head from your breasts to make eye contact with you, you smirked.

 "Think I can convince you to stay the night?" He asked dreamily, a glint in his eye. And really, how could you refuse?

--

This is my first published work, so please be kind to her!! I worked on it for quite a while, so feedback is always appreciated!

[starrybbarnes]

high flying, pt. 3 | [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x superhero!Reader

Summary: bucky has no memory of you using magic. certain teammates are catching on, but you’re standing your ground. trouble brews as you’re training yourself. 

Word Count: 1932 (more substance! i promise this one is worth it)

Author’s note: originally, this was supposed to be a 3 part thing, but i’m pretty sure there’s be 4 total. don’t worry I’ve tried to make these next two as long as possible, but also still entertaining. but, the main attraction is coming soon. as i’ve said before, i appreciate all of your feedback! :)

Warnings: more swearing, some more magic, and a cliffhanger.. maybe. I’ve sprinkled some fluff to make up for it. also if you know someone from mit, i apologize in advanced.

Part 1 Part 2

Smack smack smack went your feet across the padding... It became mundane as you kept fighting the still punching bag, and much more tiring. 

While practicing some combat moves, you started thinking about the meeting. Surely, no one was able to identify you, but you’re sure as hell Steve and Bucky might have an inclination. And rightfully so, as you partially wiped the mind of a friend. 

You thought about the moment Bucky stared you down in the conference room, his mind trying to put two and two together, but alas couldn’t make a connection. Maybe he is that clueless, you thought to yourself.

However, if Steve is able to connect the dots as to why Bucky can’t remember certain moments of certain days, then you might be into some hefty trouble. And if he were to find out you casted a spell on his best friend, you might jeopardize your job.  

But at the same time, you thought about your own safety, your privacy. You weren’t ready to take on a huge role, much less when you’re not used to your powers. It was a tug and pull, but you were committed to letting everyone know once you had the capacity to control it. 

You were deep in thought when you felt yourself levitate slightly. It was a force of habit, but you let it happen, letting your thoughts occupy you.  

As you stood, er- floated, there while pondering, you heard the gym door open and you quickly grabbed a hold of the pull up bar. Making their way towards you is Steve and Bucky, both carrying duffle bags on their side. The boys stare at you incredulously as you’re holding onto the bar.

“How’s it hanging down there?” you half joked, as Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky was suppressing a smile. 

“Very funny,” Steve said, “we were looking for you all over, figured this might be the last place to look.” 

“Well,” you started, still on the pull-up bar, “your inclinations were correct.” 

Bucky eyed you, gears churning in his head, trying to see why you doing pull-ups felt… off. 

You sensed Bucky’s confusion as he stared at you just dangling from the bar, and so you thought fast. You fell on your knees as you abruptly let go of the bar and planted onto the floor. A loud oof was heard as Steve audibly gasped at the sight.

“I’m fine!” you said nonchalantly  as Bucky scooped you up and stood in front of you. 

Bucky shook his head and began to speak, “we came by to find you—”

“You came to find her,” Steve interrupted, “I just came to support Bucky because he’s always afraid to talk to ya.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Bucky interjected, “but anyways, the team and I are headed out of the country for 5 days. Ireland, specifically. I think it’s business related. So we won’t be long.”

A slight hum escaped your mouth, nodding at the statement Bucky had said. “Look at you two, being business-y,” you joked as Bucky cracked a smile, while Steve rolled his eyes.

“Well, sweetheart, I’ll have you know I’m all business, all the time,” he added, earning a groan from you and Steve.

You stood in front of the duo. If anyone knew awkward, it’s definitely these two centenarians. Another moment of silence overcame the gym, as three of you just stared at each other, and you crossed your arms, waiting.  

“Oh, for god’s sake Buck,” Steve sighed, “Y/N, Bucky told me he was going to miss you and he didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

You raised your eyebrows at the duo, Bucky blushing ever so slightly and Steve looking more exasperated than usual. 

“Well,” you coughed, “Let Bucky know that I will miss the team equally… but, I’ll miss him slightly more.” 

Bucky smiled at the last comment and went to hug you. Steve came in for a hug too and broke away and said they should get going, as they shouldn’t be running late. Bucky slowly let go and sheepishly waved goodbye as the duo started to head out. 

As the two walked away, you carefully shot some magic their way, a safe travel spell, and he closed the door. You saw through the windows that Steve and Bucky  looked confused at the slight lavender aura around them, how they smelled of rose and vanilla all of sudden.

Steve shoots you a look through the window, and all you do is laugh and shrug. You go towards the back of the gym, and reveal your silver staff hiding in plain sight, and begin to twirl it. It begins to glow with its purple hue, and you start practicing with it.

Maybe they’ll figure it out, it doesn’t matter. But, it is kind of fun messing with the guys. 

。。

6:45 pm, 5 days later

The compound had been eerily quiet the past five days, and you were elated that your friends were coming back in a couple of hours. Most importantly, Bucky was coming back.

You promised yourself it was now the time to make a move. You pondered for hours with your stuffed animal and your best friend, the latter being slightly more responsive.

You also let your friend Betsy know that you have completely gotten a hang of your powers, and your friend suggested that you  might be ready to fight alongside the Avengers.

You hesitated at that suggestion. You were really good, but that’s only because you kept practicing in the simulation room at the gym. Sometimes you're thrown a curveball in the real world. But you knew you’d have the support of your friends whenever you’re crime fighting. 

Betsy asked about Bucky’s flight back. It left at around 7 this morning, so you predicted they might come around the afternoon. She commented that a normal flight from Ireland usually is 8 hours long, if there are no layovers. 

That means they should’ve arrived here at around 3. The quinjet is fairly punctual, and it isn’t like the team to be taking that long. Especially with the time differences, everyone would’ve been eager to come back home to sleep off the jet lag. 

You asked FRIDAY if there was any GPS location of the quinjet the team was boarded on, but oddly enough there wasn’t any. FRIDAY reported that the last signal was sent from Queens, which meant they were almost here. Flying from the city to upstate New York took an hour, tops. 

“This isn’t looking good,” you said to your friend with concern. Both of you kept throwing off ideas as to why there was a delay, when FRIDAY notified you of an incoming message.

You opened up the hologram and there said a message that read: In trouble. Top of building. Call backup. B. 

 “Call backup?” you questioned, “but there’s no one except me and Peter. All the other other Avengers were either with Steve or they’re doing other minor missions. And I’m pretty sure other agents don’t have the clearance to do this type of stuff… right?”

That only leaves once choice, Y/N, your friend commented. You’re gonna have to brave this out with Peter.

“Peter’s a child,” you argued.

When he wants to be, your friend interjects. He can put up a fight, I’ve seen him on the news. 

You keep weighing your options, when you hear a knock on the door. 

“Uh, Y/N?” Peter asked, “did you get that text from FRIDAY? I think the guys are in trouble. Most importantly your secret boyfriend is in trouble but that’s beside the point. I want to do this, but I’m by myself and I can’t do the saving by myself, I mean I can, but I need your help.”

Peter is dressed in his suit, minus the mask, and he peeks inside more to see you talking to your friend. You look at your friend, back to Peter, to the message, back to your friend, and then back to Peter. 

You opened your closet and then opened a secret drawer. You saw your suit, and next to it, your silver staff. 

“Peter,” you sighed, “Let’s grab a small jet and get to the bottom of this. Lord knows I’ve prepared myself for this.”

。。

As the jet got closer to the main city, you and Peter tried to intercept any signal or clue to find your friends. You put the jet on autopilot, and pulled up a map of the city to see the roofs of any tall building. 

You groaned slightly, “this is hopeless, there’s no way we can pinpoint a place quickly.” 

You wondered as to how a quinjet of such size can’t be detected by just plain eyesight. Either that, or it was time to get your vision checked out. 

Then Peter started to sense something: it was by a building on Liberty Street. He then pulled up a hologram and started zooming in on the roof of that building. It was difficult to see, but there was a ball of light sort of floating above the roof.

You were called over by Peter to check it out, and as the jet slowly started to get closer, and you pulled out some binoculars, you can vaguely recognize some burly men all bunch up together. 

“Peter, try to land on the roof that is two buildings over from that building,” you suggested. As the jet neared the roof, you decided to turn off the engines and used your magic to safely land the jet. It was no easy feat, but it was done. 

Getting out of the jet, you and Peter went towards the roof’s ledge that got as close as possible to the building with the floating light ball.

Using your binoculars once again, you got a clearer image of who was on top. 

It was the boys. And they were surrounded by a bunch of guys dressed in black, with one scrawny dude standing by a weird contraption. 

“That doesn’t look pretty,” Peter commented through his suit. His AI was explained to you and Peter that the scrawny was an ex-Stark employee, and the machine was used to keep the Avengers captive, while also a finding way to try and blow up the compound. Karen, the AI, proclaimed that the machine had major flaws and said it wouldn’t take much to take it down. 

“Can you tell Karen that while that sounds optimistic, there are also only two of us, and bunch of bad guys,” you groaned. This definitely wasn’t in a gym simulation.

“Sure... but,” Peter started, “we do have your powers, and my strength, and my ability to distract people. Also, I think it’s your time to shine, I think we’re both ready to do this.” 

You looked over to the other roof. You vaguely saw Bucky’s arm glistening in the sunlight. He looked confused and afraid. It looked like was looking upwards in every direction, trying to find any sign of backup. Luckily for him, it isn’t that far away.

“Peter, you’re right,” you replied. “And I think I have a surefire way to save our boys.”

You took your staff out of the sheath that was on your back. It slowly started to glow, and your whole demeanor changed. Now wasn’t the time to back down, it’s time to fight. And fight hard. 

“Karen, give us a rundown of our surroundings. I have a plan that will make sure than Peter and I can kick scrawny intern ass.”

[def-initely-soul]

Burn The Witch {2}

pairing:  yoongi x reader (f.)

genre: supernatural; angst; mystery; magical society AU; magicals!AU

rating: PG-15

warnings: violence; emotional abuse; blood; bullying; mentions of murder; mature language

words: 5.5k

summary:

↠ {a boy who keeps running away, a girl who can’t seem to no matter how much she tries and a series of murders caught all in between of the cracks spread through what appears as a quiet little town…} ↞

or alternatively, not everything is always what it seems

previous part: {1}

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.

Your alarm clock rings, successfully waking you up from your peaceful slumber.

With a loud grunt, you force yourself to sit up, covers shuffling in the process as you rub the tiredness off your eyes, causing your familiar to stir awake.

The corsac fox, Alistair, slowly uncurls himself on top of your bed, his grey-white fur shining under the morning light as he looks at you with a slightly annoyed stare.

You get out of bed, giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Ali, didn’t mean to wake you…” you explain, moving to scratch his ears and you realize his mind must still be in a state of sleep as you fail to hear his characteristic voice in your head and instead you’re met with an appreciative hum.

“Go back to sleep…” you murmur as you move towards the hall.

Your feet feel cold as they make contact with the bare wooden floors of your house. They echo in direct contrast with the usual silence that hangs in the air, the only thing filling this otherwise empty home.

You’ve been living alone for almost 11 years now and still, you can’t get used to the hollowness draping the walls and furniture.

This house used to be filled with life once upon a time. Friends, family, your parents. It used to be a “home”. Now it’s just a place standing like a ghost in the ruins of what used to be.

Not feeling in any particular mood to look through your clothes before going to work, you close your eyes and whisper a summoning spell. Instantly you feel your night attire being replaced by some jeans and a black T-shirt. You don’t bother looking yourself in the mirror, instead moving to the kitchen to grab a quick bite before heading off.

This is your daily life. Aside from uni on weekdays. But since today is Sunday, you only have to go to work at Selkie’s Place as a waitress.

It’s mostly a lonely life, you admit. Just one friend who spends most of his time reading, so not exactly a friend. Only school, work, home, and repeat. It’s been like this for a while. Since you were twelve to be exact.

You shake your head as you munch into your cereal. It’d do you no good to think about that now. Plus the anniversary is getting closer. You’ll have time to be miserable then.

To be honest, you only got to work after you became nineteen. Actually, no one sane in this town would hire you, given your history and reputation. You don’t blame them though. You probably wouldn’t want someone that only brings misfortune to their peers in your business either. Half the town believes you’d set those fires. Which you didn’t. And the other half believes you were simply cursed.

For that, you’re not so sure. Maybe you are.

Anyways, it’s best for everyone to keep their distance. You’re fine either way. It’s safer for everyone.

Except for Mona, that is. She wouldn’t keep her distance even if you hexed her.

Mona, the owner of Selkie’s Place and your boss, used to be friends with your parents before the incident. She and your mother, Beatrice, were best friends since school and when you were born Mona became sort of your godmother. You’ve grown up with her and when you lost everything she was there to pick up the pieces and take care of you, in place of your parents.

At first, she wanted you to move in with her, but you were not ready to leave this house. It still holds so many memories of a carefree childhood, of your family, of times that you used to be happy. You were not ready to say goodbye to that yet.

So instead, she moved in with you for a few years, but having a pub to run and a child to take care of didn’t exactly go together. So when you turned eighteen and she found you mature enough to take care of yourself living in a house on your own, she moved back into her place, even though she still tried to come by as often as she could.

You’re not complaining though. Mona really did try her best to take care of you and raise you as your parents would’ve wanted. But a shapeshifter can’t be too much of a help for a young witch.

When you became nineteen you begged her to let you work at her pub. You felt indebted to her for accepting her help all those years and wanted to pay her back in some way. Though she was furious when you suggested working as a volunteer, as a token of appreciation. So instead she let you work for her, but like everyone else. That meant you were growing up suddenly, deciding it was time to take care of yourself on your own for real this time, so Mona’s frequent visits came to an end.

Now, she only stops by once a week, to check on you over a warm cup of coffee.

You break your reverie when it’s time to leave for work. Whispering another summoning spell, suddenly your teeth are brushed, breath as fresh as ever, and hair combed thoroughly. You grab your satchel bag and with a snap of your fingers, you disappear.

.

.

You reappear a block away from the pub, blowing some hair out of your eyes as you begin walking. You refrain from teleporting straight into the pub as Mona has already reprimanded you one-too-many times about it. Apparently, it creeps some people out.

If only they knew that’s one of the few basic spells you know. Every witch’s rite of passage includes the finding of a mentor at the age of 12, to help the young witch grow into their individual powers and unfold their potential. But since you weren’t even twelve when the accident happened. You never found out what your power is and there was no way for you to get a mentor. Not in a town where you’re the only witch left.

But you manage. You don’t mind the gossip, the talking, the stares, and the harsh words. You don’t care for the suspicious glances some of your coworkers still give you or the sneers from the students from the academy.

Because you have a plan. All you care about is going through college and getting your diploma as a potion master so you can get out of this hellhole. To go somewhere else, somewhere where no one knows you, no one cowers at the sight of you, no one bothers you and just let you be.

Your next step brings Selkie’s Place into sight.

You sigh, letting air flow into your lungs as you let a mechanical smile take over your lips.

One day closer.

.

.

Most of your shift goes by smoothly. There is, of course, the weird glances from some of your coworkers, magicals that believe the rumors or humans simply because you’re a witch. But really you can’t get rid of those glances and after some point, you don’t mind them at all. So it’s another usual day.

Until a certain group of sirens walks in.

You can hear their loud, piercing laughter all the way to the storage room, the sound annoying, ringing through your eardrum.

And yet they say witches cackle.

You fix your apron before entering the dining space and approaching their table. Hoping their group is incomplete.

But as you get closer and their voices become clear and distinct instead of the crumbled mess of sounds, you know your hopes were in vain.

“Welcome to Selkie’s Place”. What can I get you for the evening?” your voice comes out almost robotically as you take out your notepad, already mentally preparing yourself for what is about to come.

And as you rest your eyes on the group, currently shooting daggers out of their eyes, you do your best to avoid looking at the girl in the middle.

But, alas, the girl groans theatrically with a smirk gracing her lips as if it’s her favorite jewelry.

“Ugh, you can get us a new waitress ‘cause there’s no way in seven seas I’d let someone like you serve me.”

You press your lips tightly together, fist clenching the notepad between your fingers in an attempt to not talk back to her.

“Even if that’s the only thing you’re good at,” Sunmi gives her final blow with a triumphant, overly saccharine smile as her friends giggle and agree.

You swallow down the words you actually want to throw to her face before another mechanical smile appears. “Of course. They’ll be with you shortly,” you answer before walking away towards Lisa, the other waitress that usually works the same shift as you. But not before getting to witness Sunmi’s less than satisfied look in her failure to get a reaction out of you.

The siren girl has been your own personal tormentor ever since the accident. Or more particularly ever since her species lost their status and privilege because of it. Which she inevitably sees as your fault.

And she doesn’t fail to show that through various methods. Water-filled lockers, seaweed covering your books and gymnastics uniform, broken seashells on your seat, “accidental” tripping due to a pond of seawater that came out of nowhere, resulting in broken bones you had to heal more than once. And of course the mildest of interactions, the verbal attacks.

Which some times hurt more than practical pranks.

.

.

The sky is grey, looking ominous and moody as you make your way through the academy grounds the next day. To be fair though the weather has been like this since forever. You don’t remember a time when the sky was blue.

You suppose it matches you in some way.

Going through the great hall used to frighten you some time ago. Walking through crowds of students that practically hate you, all alone like a moving target? Yeah, the experience was bound to be nerve-wracking.

But you’ve grown used to it by now. Every single loathing glance that used to send shivers down your spine has nothing on you now. You’ve grown numb to them, indifferently making your way down to the dining hall.

The founders of the academy first built it not only as an educational institute but as a safe haven for magicals all around the world that were hunted, disowned or simply had nowhere else to go. So aside from the learning premises, there are also sleeping quarters, the kitchen and of course the dining hall.

But as years passed and the need for magicals to hide from humans slowly dissipated, the dorms emptied out as they were no longer needed. But the kitchen and dining hall are still functioning.

You step into the enormous dining area, eyes already finding your designated spot, just beneath the stained-glass windows. Thankfully no one seems to occupy it, not that they would though since it’s your spot we’re talking about.

Anything to avoid the witch.

Your boots boom against the wooden floors as you reach your table, sitting down with a huff. Your hands are already at your notes, opening the notebook to quickly go through them before your Advanced Potions class.

“And of course, she puts aside breakfast for the sake of her studies,” a familiar voice says, its tone kind and gentle as its owner sits down across from you, holding a tray with two bagels and two cups of steaming coffee.

Your eyes rest on the tall, blond elf boy and you smile thankfully.

“I can’t waste time on breakfast if you recall…” you joke and Namjoon smiles, his dimples appearing before placing the tray between the two of you.

Namjoon is the only person in the academy that actually talks to you like a normal person would. He’s never been prejudiced towards you, not since you shared your chocolate bar with him one day in high school when he simply forgot to pack lunch. Although his parents wouldn’t be exactly thrilled with the idea if they knew. But as he once said, “what they don’t know, won’t hurt them.”

And, of course, he helps a bit with classes as well.

To put it lightly Namjoon is a genius. You’d think being born an elf, into an extremely wealthy and respected family and incredibly handsome would be enough but no. To top all that, he’s also a prodigy. AND one of the kindest people you’ve ever met.

Which usually results in him lecturing you about your lack of self-preservation instinct.

“Eat,” he says sharply as he points at the bagel closest to you.

You sigh. “This conversation is taking too much of my study time…” you complain lightly and Namjoon just smiles.

“And it would’ve been avoided altogether if you just ate,” he replies with a winning smirk and you huff in fake annoyance as a smile threatens to spill all over your lips. If you’re honest you really enjoy it when he’s being this caring with you.

“Fine…” you mutter begrudgingly, “but I’m not letting you pay for them like last time!” you open your bag to pay him back.

“Whoever said I paid for them?” he mumbles behind the rim of his paper cup.

You turn to him with wide eyes, before. “Kim Namjoon did you flirt with the lunch lady again?” your voice incredulous even though really it’s been already more than twice that Namjoon charmed his way out of paying for breakfast.

He simply giggles, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t help it if I’m just this incredibly charming,” he winks at you and you almost double in laughter, before grasping your cup.

“If only she knew you were gay…” you mumble above the steaming beverage before taking a sip and an appreciative moan rolls off your tongue.

“Oh, she knows, I’m thinking she wants to set me up with her nephew.”

You almost spit out your coffee.

.

.

You leave Namjoon outside of his Runes class feeling a little lighter before you make your way down the hall and onto the next floor for your class.

A group of shapeshifters walks down the stairs as you ascend them, books on your hands, trying to fish out your phone from wherever you’ve thrown it into earlier in the day.

You ignore their voices, as you usually do, knowing it’s the safest way to go by unnoticed.

Although, sometimes even this doesn’t work.

An “accidental” hand pushes you to the side, not enough to have you tumbling over your feet, but enough to make you lose your grip on the books and for them to spill all over the stairs and reach the floor beneath.

Giggles reach your ears as a mocking “oops” echoes through the corridor, before the group disappears around the corner, the sound of laughter trailing after them, leaving you once more alone.

Your eyes remain glued to the floor and a slight tremble takes over your body as you stand still in the same position as before when the sound of thunder rings like a whip across the sky.

You close your eyes, willing the trembling to subside, forcing the raging thoughts in your mind to disappear before you do something you’re gonna regret.

You’re only aware of your clenched fists when you relax your fingers and inevitably crouch down to pick up your books. There are worse things that could happen, you try to remind yourself. At least it wasn’t you falling all over the stairs.

The incident though managed to put a dump on your previously cheerful mood and you gather your stuff with a frown, trying to keep yourself together.

Footsteps reverberate through the corridor as another student walks down the stairs while you pick up the last of your stuff. You stand up, deciding to wait for whoever it is to leave first before you attempt to go up again.

But when your eyes rest on the vampire girl who stares at you from the middle of the stairs, your heart clenches unpleasantly and you can’t help but stare back.

Chungha’s stare is indecipherable as she just stands there, eyes on you, her frame frozen as she most likely realized why you were currently picking up on your books.

You gulp anxiously. Before taking your eyes off her, putting on the most indifferent face you can manage and walking up the stairs, “playing safe by letting her walk down first” long forgotten.

So you walk up to your next class, leaving the vampire girl behind with a heavy heart.

.

.

At the end of your classes, you’re already tired for the next month, you can’t wait to go home and rest for a couple of hours before you have to leave for work again.

On your way to the front gate, though, another pair of students pass by you, bumping into you and your books once more spreading across the floor. This time you can’t contain the tired sigh that escapes you, as you crouch down to pick them up.

But then something unexpected happens.

A person, who surprisingly isn’t Namjoon, crouches down to help you.

The gesture is so unprecedented, you don’t even register what they say to you, and instead, you freeze and stare at the person with wide, baffled eyes.

The unknown boy across from you gathers your stuff calmly, not at all bothered or disgusted at your sight, his black hair falling in front of his eyes, framing his pale face, giving him an otherworldly aura, one that makes him seem almost as if he’s a figment of your imagination.

If you weren’t shocked by him helping you, you’d certainly be by how handsome he looks.

Once he realizes you’re frozen on your spot, he also stops and raises his eyes at you, and for some reason, his expression matches yours. 

Is this a prank? Will someone appear with a bucket full of pig blood while someone captures the entire thing on their phones?

Your eyes move quickly to distinguish any possible threat only to see Jimin, the fae boy behind the handsome stranger. Looking at you like you just killed someone.

Your eyes widen, suddenly terrified this might be a prank, fear immediately taking over your bones, even though you know Jimin would never do something like that, no matter how much he’s afraid of you.

The other boy must have sensed this because he starts talking.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

But once his voice reaches your ears, you feel like being woken up from a spell, reminding you of where you are.

Of your place.

You grab your books from the black-haired boy’s hands before you make a run for it.

Eyes glued to the floor as you walk away towards the gates, already trying to forget the way the boy’s eyes bore into yours.

.

.

You try not to dwell too much on the events of the day as you try to survive your way through your shift, although you can’t help but catch glimpses of a conversation between some of your clients, commenting on the new vampire boy that Jimin has seemingly taken under his wing.

But as you said, you don’t let yourself think too much about it.

When another one of your assigned tables gets taken by a group of students, you make your way towards them.

As you stand before their table, pad and pen ready on your fingers, your voice already carries out the rehearsed words.

“Welcome to Selkie’s Place. What can I get you for the evening?” you raise your eyes to the group.

Instead of their orders, you’re met with side glances and uncomfortable fidgeting.

You sigh.

.

.

Thank god Lisa is a relatively rational person and is willing to help you out every time someone asks for a different waitress.

It happens more often than you’d think.

Not often enough to see a significant drop in Mona’s income but still.

So, in return for Lisa taking one of your tables, you’ll have to look out for a table at her side.

And not long after that, another group of three steps into the pub, heading for a table at Lisa’s side. Once you see Sua as one of the people in the group you turn around to let Lisa know you’ll take this and she nods appreciatively.

As you make your way towards them you try to figure out who you’ll be serving. You see Sua talking animatedly to Jimin but you couldn’t make out the face of the third person.

But at least you know they’re not gonna ask for a different waitress. It’s one of the reasons you let Lisa know you’ll serve them; Sua never has asked for a different waitress. She never seems to have a problem with you and well, Jimin might be afraid of you but she never let him ask for someone else. You just hope the earlier incident today didn’t affect Jimin this much that he wants a different waitress regardless of what Sua says.

As for the third person you just hope Sua has the same effect on them too.

She orders first, then letting Jimin order before you turn to the third person.

Who is currently hiding behind the menu.

Sua’s polite smile falters for a second. She smiles again apologetically at you before turning to Jimin. “Isn’t he gonna order?”

You smile back knowingly. Maybe Sua’s words won’t be enough this time and you’ll have to change tables with Lisa. Again.

Jimin completely avoids your eyes, mumbling a weak “sorry” to Sua before turning to the boy in question. You don’t let that bother you though so you turn your focus to the guy behind the appetizers.

“Uh, Yoongi? The waitress is here…”

Yoongi? Weird, you don’t know anyone with that name.

A headless voice coming from behind the menu clears their throat. “Ugh, I’m fine…” the person mumbles, still holding the piece of paper firmly in place.

Sua chuckles uncomfortably before leaning closer to that Yoongi guy, as you remain in your spot, unsure of what to do.

“Come on, you’ve been out all day. Sure even you would be hungry or at least thirsty!” she insists and you suppress a chuckle at the unwilling grunt coming from behind the menu.

But it seems the words of the fae girl finally take action and the man brings down the menu at last, as you ready yourself to take down his order.

Although as the impromptu partition disappears and the man looks at you with apologetic eyes, a hand rubbing awkwardly at the base of his neck, you admit you’re not at all prepared.

It’s the guy who tried to help you earlier today. The black-haired boy whose eyes you tried to forget.

“Um, I’ll have just a pint of whatever stout you have…” he mutters with a low and yet polite voice and you’re left to stare at him for a moment too long before realizing what he said.

Your eyes widen before you drop them to your pad to write his order down.

“Uh, yes… Sure, uh… I’ll, I’ll be with you shortly, thank you!” you stutter, cheeks reddening, already mentally berating yourself, before moving away.

Trust you to make yourself look like an idiot.

.

.

After serving them their order while trying your best to avoid the boy’s eyes on your face unsuccessfully, you take your spot on one of the vacant seats on the bar next to the cash register.

Mona is currently behind it, making sure everything is in order. You’ve decided to keep her some company now that things are a bit slow.

“So how’s today going?” she asks as she counts some of the bills.

You shrug nonchalantly. “Eh, same old, same old. People looking at me weird. Asking for a different waitress. Nothing I haven’t handled before…” you joke with a dismissive wave of your hand.

Mona though stops to look at you or more precisely scold you. “Haven’t we talked about this already? Whenever something like that happens, just let me handle it!”

An involuntary sigh escapes you at her stubbornness. “And I told you no because you’ll most likely throw them out.”

She gasps, faking offense. “When have I ever? I’ll just have a nice little conversation!”

You smile at that. “Which will result in you throwing them out.”

She smirks. “Maybe.”

That makes your smile fall, though. Sometimes it feels as if she’s the child and you're the responsible adult in your relationship. “Mona, come on, just think this through. You can’t lose customers because of me!” your voice turning serious, hoping at least now she’ll listen to the voice of reason.

“Well, if they’re being douchebags maybe I don’t want them as my customers!” she retaliates and you fondly shake your head. It’s one of those times you know she’s not gonna listen to you, no matter how much sense you’re making.

“Anyways, I can handle it myself very well.”

Another ding is heard across the pub, signaling the entering of another customer and you turn around, ready to go if they need you.

Only to see Chungha walking in.

You freeze in your seat (damn your natural instinct of fight or flight for not existing), hand stuck in your apron where it reached for your pad. Eyes glued to the vampire girl’s form as she moves across the room to find her company.

Only to sit down at the table where Sua, Jimin and that boy Yoongi are seated.

A soft curse leaves your lips before turning around and taking a deep breath.

Fuck, you should’ve known she’d sit there. She and Sua are practically inseparable now.

Mona, having watched the scene, looks at you with sympathy hiding in her eyes. “I can call Lisa if you want…”

Honestly, that sounds idyllic right now. You’d rather go talk to Sunmi than walk back to this table.

You take another breath, before fixing your hair and clothes and putting on a brave smile on your lips, one that doesn’t certainly doesn’t reflect your inner feelings. “No, I’ll go, it’s fine!”

Mona doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure?”

But in her defense, neither are you.

“Yeap!” you say instead with an extremely cheerful voice before departing for their table.

You try to subdue the shaking in your hands and to keep your fake smile from falling as you near the group as well.

The group seems deeply immersed in their conversation, Sua and Chungha laughing at something Jimin said as Yoongi takes a sip of his beer.

Though everyone’s eyes are focusing on you when you stand in front of them.

“Was everything to your satisfaction?” you ask politely, hands hanging awkwardly at your sides as you struggle to make eye-contact with the newcomer, without appearing totally hung up on your shared past.

You see, once upon a time, when your life was much simpler and happier, you and Chungha used to be friends.

And not just any kind of friends. The best kind. Stuck together from the first day of daycare, all through middle school, as if you were both born to be in each other’s lives. Less than sisters but so much more than just friends. It was perfect.

Until the accident happened. And then it wasn’t anymore.

Sua’s answer interrupts your short-lived reverie. “Oh, yes, everything is completely perfect!”

Jimin simply smiles at her, the gesture small yet endearing, given he’s also casting you side-glances. Chungha looks at Sua as well, successfully ignoring your presence as if you’re nothing but a fly.

But that isn’t exactly right. A fly would get more attention than this, it could probably fly away or maybe someone would smash it with a newspaper or something. 

Which both sound much better than what you’re currently going through.

Then you hear a small chuckle in response to Sua’s words, so quiet you almost missed it, coming from the boy next to Jimin. You cast a curious glance towards him, seeing him take another sip of his beer. The hints of a smile hanging from his lips.

But then his eyes are on you again, so you refocus on Sua’s voice.

“And also could we get a glass of - what was it that you liked, AB negative?” She turns her attention to Chungha midway through her sentence and you try to not let your eyes widen at the sudden request.

Chungha’s eyes fidget nervously. “Sua…” she complains stiffly.

It’s not uncommon for vampires - or werewolves, or sirens - to ask for a glass of blood to quench their thirst. But usually, you serve such beverages in a secluded area for magicals only, to save humans from a possible freak out at the sight of them.

You’re sure Mona doesn’t really mind but the request itself is kind of a taboo.

“What? I thought you were starving! I’m just looking out for you!” Sua reiterates, eyes wide as if not seeing the problem in such a demand.

But due to that, Chungha turns to look at you for the first time tonight. Her stare on you makes you feel queasy, especially when her entire focus is on you.

Your palms are sweating, fantastic.

“I’ll have an apple cider and some mashed potatoes, thank you,” she announces calmly before her eyes return to her phone.

And here you are, silently panicking over her and she seems perfectly fine. As she always seems to be whenever she’s around you. Like all those years meant nothing. God it’s been more than ten years already, why are you still so hung up on her?

You take another breath before you jot that down.

You clear your throat. “Great. I’ll be right back.”

This time your voice is steady as a rock, and yet somehow you feel worse than before.

And as you walk away, you miss the way Yoongi’s eyes curiously follow your figure.

.

.

After that interaction that you’re better off not remembering, the rest of the evening goes by uneventful.

Well, if you forget almost scaring Jimin to death when you just tried to help him.

It wasn’t your fault though! You just happened to see him forget his jacket at the coat rack outside the men’s bathroom and simply run after him to give it back.

Only he couldn’t hear you calling him so when you jumped right in front of him to stop him, he was scared shitless.

Which would’ve been okay, if it wasn’t for you. Because, really, these things could happen to anyone. It was the way the fear re-entered his eyes once he realized who was returning his jacket. Like he would’ve been completely okay to be accidentally scared out of his wits from someone returning his jacket, unless that someone was you.

You swear he took a step back, almost unwilling to take his jacket back as if he was afraid you might’ve hexed it in the short span it took you to reach him.

And it hurts. It hurts seeing one of the most liked, most kind people of this town being fucking repulsed by you. You admit there are times when you think you and Jimin would’ve been great friends. But life never works out the way you want it too. How can you hurt over the loss of something you’ve never had?

And as if the day wasn’t awful enough, bad news reaches the pub when you’re about to take your break.

The dining space is full of life when a demon guy, Baekhyun, storms into the building, eyes wide, breathing heavily. Did he run on his way here?

At once all the conversations seize, eyes drawn at the boy standing in the middle of the floor. Baekhyun has the reputation of the Xuma’s gossiper. He’s sure to know first about any hot gossip so it doesn’t strike you as odd that everyone stopped whatever they were doing in favor of listening to another one of the demon’s rumors.

But as his eyes stare nowhere in particular as if he was still trying himself to come to terms with what he must have heard, the hair on your arm raises. Getting this terrifying feeling of dread right down to the pit of your stomach.

He swallows once. Then-

“The First Fae Kims are dead.”

The atmosphere is stiflingly quiet.

A few soft gasps echo through the room but aside from that, there’s no other sound daring to break the insufferable silence.

The Kims are dead? They’re the first family of Fae in this town. The most prestigious clan among your peers they’re suddenly dead.

And then the onslaught of questions begins.

“What? When?”

“You’re joking right?”

“All of them, what the fuck?”

“How is that even possible?”

“This isn’t funny Byun!”

You know their youngest daughter Solar, she’s in the same charms class as you.

Then another question pierces through the voices, loud and clear.

“How?”

And once again, everyone stops talking in favor of focusing on whatever Baekhyun’s answer is gonna be.

And for some reason his eyes find you. You can’t decipher his stare and it gives you a great deal of confusion as to why he’s staring at you.

“Fire.”

Oh.

Oh.

And now it’s not just him staring.

next part: {3}

[royalcordelia]

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn't easy, but they're more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story).

Notes: Hope you all are staying safe and healthy out there. As always, tag list is down at the bottom. ♥

---*---

Chapter 7 ~ Oh My Heart, How Can I Face You Now?

Anne fit in so well at the Sunset House that it was easy to forget she’d only been there less than a day. With a keen intuition, she knew exactly where to find things in the odd drawers and shelves around the kitchen as Ron held out his non-cooking hand. 

“Three eggs! The milk jug! A serving spoon!” 

“Aye aye, Captain,” Anne replied each time, dutifully helping her new friend prepare their first breakfast together. “I still wish you would’ve let me make breakfast. It’s the least I can do after I showed up entirely unannounced. Besides, Gilbert has had my cooking before, but I’ve never cooked for him.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” shot Ron. “If anything, Gil should be the one cooking for you . After all, it’s only polite to make a woman a meal after she’s spent a night in your bed. Especially when he snores.” 

“Ron! I didn’t-...He doesn’t snore! ”

“But alas, Gilbert’s breakfast skills leave so much to be desired, even if they are improving. Poor man makes the same recipes over and over again - his sister-in-law’s from this tiny notebook he’s copied them down in. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be eating bland vegetables and overcooked pork.”

 Even Anne’s laughter sounded familiar bouncing off the cream walls and brightening the quiet Saturday morning. Above their heads, the running water of Gilbert’s bath kept the room from becoming completely silent. 

Ron found that it wasn’t a lack of things to say that caused his own stillness, but rather, a strange desire to open his entire heart to her. He supposed that was the danger with people who were so easy to like, so easy to talk to. The words fizzed in his throat, and if he moved even an inch, they’d pour out. This is silly, he thought. What’s there to lose?

“Anne,” he began out of the blue. She snapped the gaze away from the autumn-crowned tree outside the window she’d been daydreaming with, joining reality once more and smiling her encouragement. “I’m absolutely, without a doubt one to make assumptions.” 

Having read as much, and more, in Gilbert’s letters, she replied, “I’m not sure that’s always a bad thing. Your assumptions have to be correct some of the time.” 

Ron shifted in his seat, making sure he could hear Gilbert still in the bath upstairs. 

“And if I were to assume you’re a nonjudgmental sort of person, would I be correct then?” 

“I very much try to be,” she offered. 

Ron’s gaze fell to the wall where a small sized portrait of him and Christine was hung across the room. Why would it be easier to say this Anne than it ever would be to say to Chris?  

“There’s this tradition,” he began slowly. “Whenever the science department hosts its autumn banquet at the Meryton Hotel, it empties the basement of all its ornate tables and chairs, leaving it completely empty. That’s not the tradition part - what I mean is, the students who aren’t smart or rich enough to go to the banquet ultimately end up working the event, but then they sneak away to host their own party in the basement. Their own dancing, their own music, their own drinks.” 

“That sounds like fun,” Anne responded honestly.

“The only reason I know about it is because, um, Adam told me about it.” 

“Who’s Adam?” 

Ron couldn’t bring himself to say it. Either that, or he couldn’t find the words to articulate everything it meant. Every ounce of shame and every speechless moment of awe that being with Adam brought was caught in his throat waiting to be spoken. His eyes had glazed over, focused on a patch of flour spilled on the counter, though his mind was miles away. Nudging his arm with hers, she leaned over and drew a smile face into the flour. 

“It’s always been women and men for me. I don’t know why,” he admitted aloud. The words loved the air they took, and Anne didn’t reject them. Instead, she only smiled. 

“A secret for a secret, Ron Stuart,” she replied just as quietly. “I’m the same way.” 

Anne was much shorter than him, and when she met his gaze head on, he saw the gold of her eyelashes. 

“Does Gilbert know?” 

She shrugged. “He might, but I’ve never said it. I don’t suppose it would make much of a difference to him. I can tell there isn’t a bit of me he doesn’t love, even the parts of me that he doesn’t know yet.” Wiping a bit of flour off of his sleeve, she added, “And he’s not the only one out there who loves unconditionally.”

“You think there’s hope for me yet?” Ron said, half teasing. 

“Ron, I have every hope for you,” Anne said seriously. The man’s protective smile fell and his eyes turned glassy.

Gilbert chose this moment to come leaping down the stairs two at a time in a way that was so distinctly Gilbert, that a warm smile lifted on Anne’s cheeks. He heaved a blissful sigh upon entering the kitchen, carrying with him the smell of freshness and soap. The tips of his hair were still damp, but it didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around Anne’s waist from behind and leaning his chin on her shoulder.

“Good morning, Anne-girl.” 

“Good morning to you too...again.” He smiled against her cheek. “That soap smells familiar,” she commented off handedly, laughing when he kissed her blush. 

“That’s because Marilla sent it.” 

“Marilla?”

“Along with fresh socks, a ream of paper, and some of her preserves.” 

“She never sends me anything!” 

“Sweetheart, you live less than an hour away from Avonlea! You probably live right next door to the post office she mailed the parcel from!” 

He was right, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. 

“Besides, it was only once,” he added. Then, taking in the atmosphere of the room, he released Anne and sat down at the table. “Did I miss something important?” 

Ron schooled his features, looking for something useful to say but coming up flat. 

“A very important, very serious debate on adequate breakfast food,” Anne filled in. “Gilbert, you’re a medical student. Tell Ron that plain toast is not nearly adequate enough sustenance for breakfast. Omelets aren’t just for when guests are around.” 

“I could tell him that, but then I’d be a hypocrite.” 

“Toast is one of the only breakfast foods he can make, poor lad,” Ron interjected. “And even then, he burns it half of the time.” 

“Hmm, kind of like that?” Gilbert said slyly, pointing down to the pan where a piece of brown bread was burnt black and smoking against the skillet. Ron rolled his eyes, sticking his spatula under the bread and flinging it at his roommate. Gilbert caught the bread and hissed at how hot it was, flinging it onto the counter where it promptly slid into the sink. 

“I’m starting to get a sense of what daily life is like with you two,” Anne laughed. “Ron, something tells me you’d get along swimmingly with Bash.” 

*

Toronto had more wonders than Anne could count. In one short afternoon, Gilbert had taken her to roam the histories of the art museum and smell the sweetness of the botanical garden, but not excluded from these marvels was the Stuart Estate. Ron led the way as dirt streets became pristine brick, and small houses turned into domineering manors of stateliness. The working class of Toronto was but a mile away, but Anne felt like she’d stepped into another country - a wealthier, more outstanding country.

“His parents live here? Have you ever been to his their home before?” Anne whispered to Gilbert as Roy said a passing hello to someone on the street. Gilbert shook his head, just as awed by the grandeur around them. 

“I knew he was wealthy, but not this wealthy.” 

“My apologies,” Ron said, returning to the group. “You were saying, Anne?”

“Oh! Well, the conservatory botanist was actually watching the child tear off the flowers from the corner of the room, and when he came roaring over, I thought the mother would perish on the spot.” 

“So Anne, being Anne, rushes over to them,” Gilbert added. 

“And I picked up all the flowers from the ground while the man was getting ready to whip the poor child. A few moments later, I was placing a flower crown atop his head. All I said to him was, ‘Forgive this imaginative child, oh king of the gardens’, and his anger died away.”

“You’ve an odd way with people, Anne. I doubt you’ve ever had a single enemy in all your days," Ron decided, shaking his head.

Anne’s mind flashed all the unpleasant faces she’d encountered over her short lifetime, each bringing a sour taste to her mouth. Her gaze fell to her dress, a bit plain on this side of town, and she remembered the enemy she might be meeting at her destination. 

Oh, Gilbert didn’t know Christine despised Anne, much less the reasons why, and Anne had done her best to stay optimistic inwardly and outwardly. She hoped Christine wouldn’t think her cruel, that she was only borrowing a dress to rub it in that she was the one Gilbert loved. In fact, a person Gilbert held in such high esteem had to have redeeming qualities. Were it not for the barrier between them, Anne suspected her and Christine could be kindred spirits. 

“Home sweet home,” Ron muttered, swinging open an iron gate. 

The Stuart estate was built three stories tall of sand colored stones and sun-thirsty windows. Some of the gabled windows had their own balcony where a person could gaze out over the city for miles. Rounded hedges and a thousand blooms framed the home, though the flowers had started to brown in the autumn chill. As the group crossed onto the terrace, Ron’s mood dropped further and further into the dirt. He knocked on the front door, only to be greeted by a small, mousy servant girl. She eyed Ron first, then Anne, both with disapproval. Her gaze crossed over Gilbert with interest, so she spoke directly to him.

“How can I help you?” she said in a saccharine. Ron frowned.

“Are you new?” he asked. The young woman blinked and her brows furrowed as she decided whether to answer truthfully or scold him for his rudeness. “Nevermind that. Please tell Mr. Stuart that Ron is home.” 

The maid was unsure, but she did what she was told, making way so that the guests could file in behind her. 

“Why don’t you live here?” Anne asked quietly. 

“Remember that thing we talked about this morning?” 

Anne nodded.

“That ,” Ron answered, just as a man a mere inch taller than Ron appeared from the side room. 

“Ronald, I’m surprised to see you.” The man’s voice bore a deep timbre, one only men of class seemed to possess. 

“Well, father, I do favor a visit every now and again.” 

Mr. Stuart’s hard brow softened, but only by a fraction. His hard stare fell on Anne and the kind smile on her lips.

“I’ve brought my friends with me. This is my roommate Gilbert Blythe, and his young lady, Anne Shirley Cuthbert. Anne surprised Gilbert with a visit all the way from Prince Edward Island, but she needs a dress to wear for tonight’s banquet.” 

“And you’ve come to ask for money?” Mr. Stuart deadpanned.

“Oh, not at all, sir!” Anne interjected. “Christine was ever so kind as to say that she might let me borrow one of her dresses. Personally I’d be comfortable in anything, but good appearances help maintain Gilbert’s reputation, and I’m only here for the weekend. If it suits you, I can wash and press the dress before I leave on the morning train.” Mr. Stuart was speechless, so Anne charged. “Your home is magnificent! I’ve only ever dreamed up such places, but being here now, please allow me to compliment your exquisite taste. Did much of the furniture come from overseas or is it purely Canadian?” 

Mr. Stuart cleared his throat when she was finished speaking and turned to Gilbert. 

“Mr. Blythe, are you quite sure about this one?” 

The smile which had arisen on Gilbert’s face listening to Anne be so unashamedly herself fell almost an imperceptible amount.

“Quite certain,” Gilbert assured, perhaps a bit harder than he intended. “Anne is PEI’s treasure.” 

Christine appeared at that moment, descending the stairs with the elegance of a fairy tale heroine. 

“I can entertain our company from here, father. You needn’t trouble yourself.” 

Anne steadied her face, desperately fighting off a bad feeling in her gut. She fell back at Gilbert’s side, sliding her arm through his and relaxing only a little when his other hand reached over to take the one on his arm. 

“Nonsense. I’d like an opportunity to catch up with my son and meet his friend. You may take the young lady up to your room and find her something adequate to wear,” declared Mr. Stuart. Gilbert and Anne exchanged a look that only they could decipher, but Anne bravely let go of Gilbert’s arm and followed Christine up the stairs. 

Out of the autumn wind that blew when she first met Christine, Anne was able to smell the lilac perfume Christine had sprayed about her neck and hair. She vaguely wondered if she should invest in some of her own, if Gilbert might like the sweetness of it.

“I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your help. I’m all but a stranger to you, and yet you’ve been so gracious,” Anne began. Christine did not turn around. “Um, if there’s anything I could do to repay you, don’t hesitate to name it. Truly, anything.” 

Christine tossed a bitter glance over her shoulder. 

“Your silence will be payment enough,” Christine hissed so sharply that Anne nearly spun on her heels to fly down the stairs, yank Gilbert by the collar, and make for the Sunset house. But instead, she nodded politely and complied. 

When Christine opened the door to her room, Anne decided that if Christine was Cordelia, then this was the perfect bed chambers befitting her childhood ideal. A four post bed was pressed against the wall, silken pillows resting atop its lush quilts. A tall wardrobe was nearby, in addition to a walnut desk and a loveseat for reading. 

Christine threw open the doors of her wardrobe, eyeing the various gowns hanging within. Each one she pulled out made Anne’s heart soar with excitement. They were the most glorious dresses she’d ever seen, each just as breathtaking as the last. 

“I won’t look nearly as lovely as you do in any of those dresses,” Anne offered quietly.  

“No, you won’t,” Christine agreed. Anne’s lips snapped shut. She paused a moment before venturing out again.

“You know, Miss Stuart-” 

She didn’t have a chance to finish because Christine had yanked a dress off the rack and spun around, holding it out to Anne. It was a gown of raven black velvet with a modest bit of beaded detail around the high collar. 

“It’s positively lovely, just as lovely as the others,” Anne began slowly. “But I think I’d much rather wear what I’ve brought.” 

Christine still held out the dress, and Anne wondered if she ought to accept out of politeness.

“It’s just that I would hate to wear a mourning gown and disrespect the person it was meant to honor. If people asked who I lost, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have an answer. I’m blessed enough to have no one to mourn," Anne continued.

“But you do have something to mourn,” Christine said. 

“I do?” 

What Christine said next, she stated with such a matter-of-fact air that Anne was frozen in place: “Gilbert’s good prospects.” 

Anne had lived through a thousand different types of ridicules, and even more harsher verbal attacks. But this...This was so calculated, and petty that Anne’s surprise drowned out the growing flame of anger at being ridiculed. In fact, the silence in which a triumphant Christine was smirking was broken by Anne’s roar of laughter. 

Christine doubled back, but Anne laughed on. 

“Because of… me? ...Gilbert’s prospe-” Anne tried to speak through her hilarity, but another wave would come on. Christine was positively horrified. Of all the ways she had expected Anne to react, this was not one of them. But Anne feared if she stopped, there’d be no preventing whatever real reaction she was holding back to such viciousness.

Anne was still laughing when Ron poked his head through the door. His eyes moved from the black dress in Christine’s hand to Anne wiping tears from her eyes. Be it the connection between siblings or Ron’s own cleverness, but horror dawned on his face. He looked over his shoulder before coming in and closing the door behind him.

“Christine!” Ron scolded on a sharp hiss. “Of all your dresses, why is this is the one you-”

“Oh, Ron, it’s alright,” Anne interrupted, her voice finally even. “She’s not serious.”

“I am!” Christine spat venomously. She spun around to face Anne, whose smile drained away at Christine’s brutal loathing. The inky haired woman continued, stepping closer to Anne. “What did you expect? You’re a child from the blemish of society pretending to be a high society woman and you want me to help you?” 

Anne stuttered, helplessly looking for a way to stop her, but finding no words. Christine trudged on. 

“You’re going to make a country hick out of Gilbert. You’ll take the person who could be the best doctor in Canada and bring him back with you to tumble around in the mud for sport. What’s worse is he doesn’t even realize it because he’s such a bumbling fool, happily shoveling every bit of his promise into a grave, and it’s entirely you’re doing. You’ve made him a simpleton.”

Anne’s mind broke away from all its restraints. Christine had doused gasoline on her rage, and if she wanted to see Anne burn, so be it. Ron watched in horror as Anne took another step into Christine’s space.

“I won’t stop you, Christine. Say what you want to me. Give me every insult you can sneer between your teeth, and make every petty move under the guise of propriety you want. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, believe me.” Anne clenched her jaw and her stormy gray eyes flashed lightning, making Christine stiffen her back. “But don’t you dare speak of Gilbert that way again.”

“Come on, Anne, let’s just go,” Ron called from the doorway. She ignored him, and eventually, he turned around and closed the door behind him. Alone with Christine, Anne liberated hersel to speak her mind.

“Miss Stuart, I know you’re in love with Gilbert and that fact in and of itself didn’t make me jealous or worried. I know unrequited love well and I wouldn’t wish that type of heartache on my worst enemy, much less you.” Losing her control, she snagged the black dress from Christine’s hands and tossed it on the bed. “But I know a thing or two more about the world than you think. This viciousness is going to get you nowhere fast. You think Gilbert is going nowhere in life, but he’s going everywhere. And I intend to go with him, wherever that is.”

“You say you’re not worried, but you should be,” Christine replied. “You really should be. He’s here in Toronto and you’re on another island. Even if it’s not me, someone is bound to steal him away eventually.” 

“If you think that’s how love works, then you’re the simpleton.” Anne hummed low and serious. “But I don’t think you are, and I’m not either. I may look like I’m worth nothing in your eyes, but I know my mind is rich and my heart is kind and strong. And it loves Gilbert. So you can give it all you’ve got and waste your time, Christine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Anne’s gaze fell to the mourning dress she’d thrown onto the bed. “The fact that you even needed one of these makes my heart hurt for you,” Anne commented. “It’s so finely made. I’m sure it honored whomever it was made for. But you, Miss Stuart...this behavior? It doesn’t even honor yourself.” 

Christine was red and quiet. 

“I’m not...” she began finally, but then shook her head. The crease between Anne softened as she watched a battle rage in Christine - the same one she’d once watched in Josie Pye.

“No, please, go ahead,” Anne encouraged softly. Christine ran her fingers down an emerald green gown, avoiding Anne’s gaze. Whatever she was about to say had been locked up deep in the catacombs of her truth, and Anne wondered if she’d ever manage to unlock it, if it was even worth trying. 

Then, as if she’d said nothing at all, Christine spun back to the wardrobe and  grabbed one of the gowns that Anne had been drawn to from the moment she’d seen it. Christine saw Anne’s uneasiness and said, “You should wear this tonight.” 

“Are you sure? I really wouldn’t want to-” 

“Wear it. I’ll do your hair and embellishments, as well.” 

“Embellishments…? One minute ago we were fighting and now you want to do my embellishments? I don’t even know what that means.” 

Christine didn’t elaborate. She only pulled a gold colored gown from the wardrobe and began to undo the laces of her day dress. Anne looked down at her own ensemble, its silky emerald fabric and what seemed like a million shimmering jewels embroidered on. The neckline was modest by usual standards but lower than anything Anne had worn before,  and the sleeves billowed at her shoulders in an attractive fashion. She stepped into the dress, surprised when Christine came up behind her and began to clasp the buttons at the back. When she was finished, she turned her own back to Anne, where the redhead quietly returned the favor. 

Anne turned to the mirror, her reflection causing a short gasp to escape her lips. She couldn’t remember the last time her own appearance had left her speechless. Not even in her best daydreams could she imagine herself this way.

“I’m not usually a cruel person,” Christine murmured, eyes still locked on her reflection. 

“I believe that,” Anne replied truthfully. “When I was in the depths of despair, so heartbroken that I thought I would never breathe easily again, I was horribly hateful to Gilbert.”

“But the things I’ve said to you, even thought about you...Ron probably thinks I’ve lost my mind.”

“Is that an apology?” They met eyes in the mirror reflection.

“I suppose in a way it is.” 

“Then consider us even.” Christine didn’t look convinced, so Anne shrugged. “Historically, I hold dreadful drudges, but I’m working on that.”

Uncomfortable under Anne’s increasingly compassionate expression, Christine turned to her vanity, where she finished adding the final pearl pins to her dark hair. 

“It’s hard to imagine you heartbroken,” she confessed.

A wound on the surface of Anne’s heart tugged, like the scar was trying to break open, but the dull pain was nothing to her trust in Gilbert. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that just six months ago, Gilbert was courting someone else? Not just that - he was planning to propose to Winifred, move with her to France, and achieve his greatest dream by attend the Sorbonne in Paris?” 

Christine’s frown deepened in disbelief. 

“What happened?” 

“He realized he loved me too much to be with anyone else.” Anne sighed, sitting beside Christine, close enough that her genuineness was palpable, but not so close as to snuff out the fragile understanding between them. “I’m not telling you this to rub salt in what I know is a painful wound. I’m telling you because it would be unfair of me not to tell you that your time is better invested finding someone who would turn down the Sorbonne if it meant being with you. And you’re very beautiful, Christine. You won’t have to look hard.” 

They sat in silence for another few moments as Christine began to run a brush through Anne’s loosened hair. Finally, she wondered, “What was Winifred like?” 

“Astoundingly beautiful - easily just as lovely as you are - and so sweet and refined,” “There was nothing I could fault her for. She just wouldn’t give me reason to dislike her, much to my frustration. I almost hated her for being so perfect.” 

“I know the feeling,” Christine murmured. Then, a bit lighter, “How did you meet Gilbert?” 

“Oh, I saw him galloping on a chestnut steed between our two houses and I knew immediately that I must marry him, and if I didn’t, I would certainly perish of consumption within the year.” 

Christine stopped brushing. “...Really?” 

“No, of course not, though can you imagine? ” Anne laughed. “Gilbert saw me getting picked on in the woods shortly after I arrived in Avonlea and diffused the situation. After that, I refused to speak with him and eventually broke my slate over his head.”

“Now you’re just playing around.” 

“It’s the truth! Ask him, he’ll tell you. I did leave out the part when he tugged my braid and called me carrots, but it’s so unpleasant to think about. Truly, little boys have the most barbaric behavior.” 

“Then how did you fall in love? When? ”

Anne shrugged. “I think the whole time, something in the depths of my soul - the part that knows the way of things - had been nudging me for years saying ‘Anne! What are you hiding from? Let him see you! Open your eyes and see him!’ One day it yelled and I listened. I began to see how kind and admirable he is. He was all I wanted to watch and learn about.” She paused. “I’m sorry, this is probably incredibly unpleasant.” 

“Only a little,” was Christine’s answer. “I want to know...in case it ever happens to me, that is.” 

Meeting Christine’s eyes through the reflection in the vanity mirror, Anne smiled. 

“It will,” she promised. “Besides, I’ve learned that nice young men have equally nice friends. Have you considered Fred Wright?” 

“Fred’s not nearly as handsome as Gilbert,” chuckled Christine. 

Anne let out an overly dramatic sigh of resignation. “Alas, no one is.” 

Somehow, strangely and unbelievably Anne’s mind corrected, they managed to pass the next bit of time in easy company with one another. Anne could still see the lingering traces of heartache in Christine’s eyes whenever they met hers, but the icy wall between them had melted enough that they could speak like friendly acquaintances. Their bitter fight, which had raged like a wildfire and scalded the wallpaper, seemed like ages ago. Much to Anne’s relief, Christine had Ron’s sense of humor - a bit dry, but quick to wit. The interaction was a peace offering - Christine offering Anne a bit of rouging on her cheeks and lips (“These are embellishments, Anne” Christine had informed her, darkening her auburn lashes), Anne offering embarrassing stories she’d known about Gilbert.

“His brother says his singing was so earsplitting that they made him clean the latrines!” 

Christine bit back an amused smile, spraying some perfume over Anne’s hair. 

“He likes to sing on his way to class, did you know?” 

“No! I have to tell Bash immediately. Where’s the nearest telegram office?” The laughter on her lips died out as Christine finished her handiwork and stood back so Anne could see her reflection. 

“How’s that for your Princess Veronica?” Christine said, a hesitant, but pleased smile on her lips. 

“Cordelia,” Anne corrected on a murmur. “I think there’s a very unloved, very homely eleven-year-old orphan out there who will be so happy she lived to today.” She turned to Christine, unable to help a toothy grin from brightening her face. “Thank you, truly.”

It seemed that was the final piece for Christine - the part of the story that she hadn’t asked for, but the part that made her able to look upon Anne’s face without feeling sick with bitterness. All at once, Christine realized she’d been dreadfully wrong in her initial judgements of Anne. She wondered that she hadn’t seen the truth of it right away.

“I didn’t mean those things I said,” she said softly. “Well, I did, but I don’t anymore.”

Anne wanted to say something , to apologize for appearing out of the blue and for being the source of Christine’s failed hopes, but she struggled for the right way to articulate it. Before she could, Christine had taken off, leaving Anne alone to wonder how much time had passed - an hour, a day? 

As she made her way down the stairs, she heard Gilbert debating with Ron about something - the philosophical meaning of healing - to pass the time near the front door. Ron saw her first, giving Gilbert a knowing glance and a nod towards the steps. 

For all her imaginings about Princess Cordelia, Anne decided the moment Gilbert settled his molten gaze on her that she didn’t mind being the Anne Shirley-Cuthbert to his Gilbert Blythe. His gaze held multitudes - dreams, submissions, prayers. Each of them were wordless and inexpressible, each only for her. As if by instinct, he reached out a hand to help her off the last stair, though they both knew she didn’t need it, and used the opportunity to pull her close enough that he could smell her perfume.

“If you’re all ready to go, Chris and I ought to go say goodbye to our father,” Ron said. 

Gilbert didn’t watch them go, he couldn’t look anywhere except on Anne’s freckled neckline and rosy cheeks, but he knew the second they’d disappeared into the other room. 

Before she could tease him for his speechlessness, he tangled their fingers together and said in a soft tone, “You’re beautiful, Anne.” It made her want to drag his face into the nape of her throat so that he could compliment how sweet she smelled, how soft her skin was. Though she suspected Gilbert wouldn’t object in the least, they were far from romance heroes who had no sense of decorum, and if she wanted to engage in chancy embraces with him, she’d have to wait until after the banquet. 

For now, she settled on a small kiss against his lips and a wink. 

“What can I say, Christine works miracles.” 

Soon, Ron and Christine had joined them in the front entryway. Much to Anne’s surprise, she found herself being shuffled alongside Gilbert to the family carriage. Ron and Christine sat across from them as if they’d done it a hundred times over. Peering out the curtained window, Anne watched the neighbor pass along. 

“You know, Gil,” Anne began, letting her thumb graze over his knuckles. “I doubt we’ll ever be terribly rich in wealth, and I don’t mind a mite. But to be sincere, I also haven’t minded trying it out for a day.”

*****

I hope you enjoyed! ♥ Thanks for reading!! Below are those individuals who asked to be tagged upon updates. If you’d like to add your name to the list or remove it, please let me know!

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[evalinkatrineberg]

~Wine Night~

A/N: This is the product of a fun RP done with @clemencewestley​

The letters that I had found waiting for me on my desk when I returned to my room that evening had remained in the same spot, untouched, even as I stared them down, as if I could delete them from existence with my sheer willpower. Four letters - three in the same style of envelope, and one in another, still familiar, kind of envelope. That was the one I was most apprehensive towards - I knew that envelope came from Proctor’s lab, I could tell just from the pure white color of the envelope, so bright it was almost blinding. I’d received more papercuts the past year when trying to retrieve one of those enveloped than I cared to admit. Would she really be hitting me up for information so soon? I snorted and rolled my eyes at the thought. She was out of her mind if she thought I could get the prince to spill national secrets to me - I had barely been able to get him to tell me what activities he liked to do outside of work!

With a sigh, I swiped the stack of letters off of my desk, and made my way to the bed, flopping down onto my back, my toes barely brushing the floor as I began to open the first envelope. I was met immediately with my mother’s elegant and arching letters. Just seeing her handwriting sent a pang of longing through my heart. I hadn’t realized how much I’d taken seeing my family every day for granted. I missed them - I even missed my sibling’s antics, and pranks - there was no denying it. There was nothing I could do about that, though. I had to get over it. I was going to have to move on at some point, Selection or no. With a deep breath, I began to read.

Dear Evalin,

We are so glad to hear that you are okay, and that you’re enjoying yourself at the palace! It sounds like you’ve found some good friends in some of the other girls there - that’s important. You should all have each other’s backs.

We all miss you. The boys aren’t as vocal about it as Lydia is, but it’s pretty clear that they wish you were here nonetheless. Seeing you on the Report isn’t the same as saying you in person, but it will have to do for now! Is the prince living up to your expectations? He’d better be treating you right!

I’d apologize for the brevity of this letter, but the truth of the matter is that there’s just not much going on here. It’s summer as usual. Your life sounds far more interesting right now!

Write soon - and with more detail, if you can!

Love,

Your Mother

I smiled as I set the letter down on my pillow. Short and to the point, the letter was quite on brand for my mother. I had asked her for more specifics when I had written her - if they were going to the coast again for the summer, if they had gone canoeing again, and if Randall had convinced her to buy a dog for the family by now - but for whatever reason, she seemed to have ignored those. I shrugged it off, figuring that she probably just didn’t want to make me homesick, and moved on to the next letter. I could see Lydia’s cursive handwriting through the paper before I even unfolded the letter.

Evalin -

Okay, first of all, I am so happy to hear that you’ve befriended some of the other Selected. I hope you remember all of the information I found about them, before you left! It sounds like you’ve chosen your friends well so far - Indiana and Idalia both seem like very nice girls - but don’t forget that this is a competition, in the end! You’re all there with the same goal, and we’re all rooting for you back here!

I swear, we can’t watch the Report anymore with hosting a watch party! It feels like half the neighbourhood comes over to our house whenever it’s on! Don’t even get me started on the debates we all have after the fact. Some quick questions we’re all dying to know, though - Do you think the prince is over Felicity? What is he like? What are his sisters like? We found the story of your interaction with Princess Ayesha hilarious, by the way! It’s a shame she had to leave for her internship. She seems like the kind of person you’d get along with. Did you get to meet the queen before she left? Either of the queens? I feel like you would’ve mentioned it, if you had, but I have to ask anyway!

Have you had your first date with the prince yet? You have to tell us when you do! We want details! What did you do? Where did you go? Is he a charmer? Gabriel thinks you should ask him to play basketball with you. I don’t know what prompted him to offer that suggestion, but he is insisting that I share the idea with you. You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes at him. That does remind me - is the prince taller than you? I sure hope he is!

Things here are pretty much normal, besides people I haven’t seen asking all of us about you. It is kind of nice having my own room now, though. Maybe I’ll force you to sleep on the couch if you ever come home after this...do us a favor and win so I don’t have to figure out how to convince our parents to allow me to do that!

Write soon please! We eagerly await your updates!

Love,

Your Inarguably Superior Older Sister :)

I couldn’t help but laugh as I put her letter down. Even miles away, she still managed to better my mood. Smile still on my face, I made my way to the third letter, only to be greeted with my father’s small print. I squinted as I unfolded the letter, half tempted to ask after a microscope to read whatever it was that he had written.

Dear Evalin,

I hope this letter finds you well. I was pleased to hear from the head of my department that you’ve registered for online classes in the fall. I knew you’d figure out a way to pursue all of your dreams at once. You’re a very resourceful girl, and for that, I’m proud of you, and I give you a lot of credit.

Though, I must admit, I am a tad disappointed in how you handled your meeting with Princess Ayesha. You shouldn’t have bothered her, and I think you know that, too. Alas, we cannot change the past, and it sounds like it all worked out in the end. You would do well to be better prepared in the future, though, especially if you are to be the future queen of Illea.

Beyond that, I’m glad to hear that you are well, and even expanding your education while at the palace. I’m afraid I am of no use to you in the fields of history or political science, but I wholeheartedly support your pursuit of knowledge in those areas. I could also ask around and see if any of the professors here in those fields would be willing to answer any questions you might send them via email. Along the same line of thought, have you considered learning French? It might prove useful.

On the subject of your friends, I am glad you have become close with Idalia Moretti. Her father is a very accomplished academic as well.

Lastly, in regards to your parting remarks to me, I want to assure you not to worry. The situation has been handled with the utmost care. You should have no trouble returning to your life here in the future, should you ever choose to do so.

With Love,

Your Father

I placed the letter on top of the others, unsure of how to feel about his last paragraph. What had happened since I’d left? There must be something my family wasn’t telling me. Unless my father was the only one who knew? Had he somehow managed to fix the issue without ever telling my mother or siblings? I frowned. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets, and yet, he had whatever had been in our attic. Maybe I didn’t know as much about him as I thought I did.

The last letter seemed to look back at me as I stared it down. Was this Proctor offering me my old job back? Was it an apology?

There’s only one way to find out, I decided as I picked up the enveloped, carefulling opening the seal. I was surprised to see Lukas’s handwriting, and not Proctor’s, once I unfolded the letter.

Hey,

Listen, I know you left on a bad note. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realize you’d react like you did.

So, how are you? How’s palace life treating you? It sounds like you’re having a good time, from what June’s been telling me. I haven’t told her about our fight. I figured it was better that way. She assumes that you’re still writing me, just not giving me the same juicy gossip you’re apparently giving her, because why would I be interested in that? Have you been telling her anything big? She won’t tell me.

I heard you’re taking online classes this fall. That’s great! Proctor mentioned some of the classes, and it sounds like we’re in some of the same ones. We should exchange notes. You’ve got to make sure you’re on top of your game for when you get back.

Speaking of Proctor, she seems to have cooled down. She told me that she’d offer you your old job back. That was after she called me incompetent, though. Either way, I don’t know what you did, but you’ve weaseled your way back into her good graces for now. Did you change your mind? I hope so.

Hope to see you soon!

Lukas

P.S. Included a picture, so you don’t forget about us little people back home.

I was half tempted to run his letter through a shredder, if given the chance. Another part of me was tempted to write June and tell her about the argument he and I had had the night before I left, but something in me told me that that was a conversation best had in person. Yet, staring at the picture that I now held in my hands, I was almost filled with a sense of longing, for the uncomplicated friendship the three of us used to have. Lukas and I may be at odds, but I couldn’t bear to make things tense for June. She didn’t deserve that.

I let out a heavy sigh, and then scooped up all four letters, folding each one and then shoving them behind the cover of one of the books I had brought from home. I couldn’t even think about replying to my mother or Lydia without my thoughts wandering back to Lukas and my father’s letters. What had my father done? How had he really been involved in the first place? Did Proctor know he and Lukas were writing me these letters.

I shook my head, placing the book in one of the drawers of my desk, before picking up some other books that had been laying on top of the desk. It was a good thing I had remembered to pack so many in my bag when I left home. Yes, the palace had a library, but sometimes it was just nice to read in the solace of my own room. Tonight however, that didn’t seem to be happening. It was as if just being near the letters was pulling my focus back to them. Being in this room was counterproductive. I had to go somewhere else.

Scooping up my books, I made my way out of my bedroom, deciding that the change of scenery would be good for me. Maybe I could go to the women’s room. I quite liked that room - I had spent a good bit of time there the past few weeks, reading or playing solitaire, or trying to get to know the other girls more. Going there seemed like a good option.

When I finally made my way to the women’s room, I was a bit surprised to find that I was not alone. “Oh, hey,” I began, not sure of what else to say. The girl was cozied up on the couch, her legs tucked under her, knitting needles in her hands, with a half emptied glass of wine  sitting alongside an open bottle on the coffee table in front of her. It took me a second, but I recognized her from our mealtime seating arrangements. “Clem, right? I think we sit next to each other at meals!”

The girl quickly looked up, her eyes wide as they focused on me. “Oh, hi,” she responded with a smile, “I prefer Clemence.” She tilted her head then, her eyes flickering to the books in my hands. “Seems a little late to study, don’t you think?”

I felt the blood rise to my cheeks as I set my books down on the table. She wasn’t wrong, but when thinking of something to distract myself with, reading had been the first activity to pop into my mind. Fidgeting with my sweater, I took a seat on the coach on the opposite side of the coffee table from her. “I suppose it is,” I admitted, “but I’m not tired enough to fall asleep yet, and it’s too dark out to run, so reading seemed like the best option, since I didn’t expect anyone else to be up right now.” I shrugged and offered her a small smile, my eyes flitting to her hands for a brief moment before I added, “Sorry if I interrupted your knitting, though.”

Clemence set her yarn and needles down on the couch beside her, picking up her glass. “I wasn’t very productive anyway. Don’t worry, you didn’t interrupt anything.” She paused to take a sip, keeping her gaze focused on me. I was half tempted to look down, and make sure I hadn’t spilled ink on my clothes. I was fairly certain my sweater was clean, but I hadn’t taken a long look at my pajama shorts. Instead, Clemence jerked her chin towards the books I had set down on the table. “Is it for your studies, or for leisure?”

“Leisure,” I answered with a smile. “I’m on a biology break of sorts for now, I think.” A small laugh escaped my lips before I could even think about it. Not studying was such a foreign concept to me, that it was strange to even consider it. I pushed that fact aside. I’d deal with that later. “What are you doing up this late?”

She shrugged in response. “I need a drink,” she decided as she finished the one in her hands. “Want one?”

Before I could even respond, she had stood up, making her way to a cabinet across the room. She grabbed another bottle of white wine and a second glass, before closing the cabinet and returning to the couches. It was too late for me to refuse now, I realized, as she set everything on the table and began pouring both of us glasses.

I wasn’t the biggest fan of wine, if I was being honest. Wine tended to make me sad, especially the morning after consuming it. Sure, we drank it on holidays in my house, but I tended to limit myself to one or two glasses of champagne in those scenarios. At the few college parties I had attended, I had opted for other drinks. An odd perk of taking so many chemistry classes was that I had a decent handle on how to mix drinks well. Vodka crans were my drink of choice most of the time, but if I really wanted to have a good time, I tended to opt for shots of tequila. Salt, tequila, lime - cut and dry, nice and simple. Tequila was an upper, whereas wine was a downer.

I said nothing as I took my glass. Clemence didn’t seem to notice any hesitation on my part, and forged ahead with the conversation. “So,” she began, pausing to put down the bottle of wine, “How long is that biology break supposed to last?” She gave me a pointed look, and I could tell that she meant long term, as in what might happen if I won the Selection.

I had hardly considered the possibility. The end of this seemed so far off, and yet, there had been some eliminations. I was a little amazed that I hadn’t been cut, given how uninterested the prince seemed in our conversation, up until the very end. Yet, here I was.

“Thank you,” I started, taking a sip of wine. “Hopefully, not too long. I’ve already emailed some professors about the possibility of completing their classes online, but only one or two have gotten back to me. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.” I shrugged, looking at the wine as I swirled the glass. “I would’ve thought you were a red wine kind of girl. What about you, do you plan on getting back into ice skating?”

Her laugh said everything I needed to know before she did. “I retired three years ago, the Selection doesn’t change any career plans.”

How had I forgotten that fact? Lydia was right, I did need to pay more attention to what she had told me.

Clemence continued, clearly unphased by any reaction I had had, waving her hand through the air. “But what will you do if it changes yours?” She raised an eyebrow, looking me square in the eye.

I frowned. “I don’t see why it should. Science teaches many skills that lend themselves fairly well to ruling, I think - like problem solving, teamwork, and critical thinking. I mean, sure, I’d have to manage my time well between all my responsibilities, but I think it’s possible. And that’s all dependent on whether or not I even make it that far in the Selection. I’m not counting on anything,” I finished, taking another sip of wine. Thank God Clemence had chosen to drink white wine, at least. I found the taste of red wine a bit too tart for my liking.

I looked at Clemence, who stared back at me. I could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she thought up a response. After a moment, she sighed, looking down at her own glass. It was then I realized how genuinely exhausted she looked. The Selection appeared to be taking its toll on all of us, no matter how confident or upbeat we appeared to be during the day. I was half tempted to reach out towards her across the table, but something held me back. “If I were you,” she finally said, “I wouldn’t want to stay.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, frowning.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t make certain sacrifices for someone who might not be willing to do the same thing, that’s all.” She poured herself more wine, despite the fact that her glass wasn’t yet empty.

“That’s fair,” I replied, attempting to collect my thoughts as I took another sip. “Have you spoken with the prince outside of the interview?”

“No, I haven’t.” Her answer was immediate, her words clipped and sharp. “I’m not looking forward to, to be honest.” Her eyes, now narrowed, darted towards her yarn as she took another sip of wine.

I raised an eyebrow at her as I reached for the wine bottle, pouring myself another glass. It appeared I’d better get settled in here for the night. “What’s your issue with him, then?” I offered her a small grin, adding, “It seems like we all have at least one.”

Clemence looked straight at me, but somehow, it didn’t feel like she was seeing me. Her focus was off in some far corner of her memory. “He’s not over her,” she began, setting her glass down and beginning to gesture as she spoke. So this was going to go back to Felicity, then. “She’ll be a ghost hanging over his Selection and later his marriage. And I’m mad that he’s dragging people into this who had nothing to do with his mess and are only asking for a normal relationship.” She shook her head and sighed, her gaze returning to the present. “What’s your issue with him?”

“He seems very distracted,” I admitted, realizing just how bothered I had been by the way he had acted during the interview. My mind was beginning to play connect the dots. “And probably because of her,” I added, taking another sip as I frowned. “I’m glad I’m not the only one that noticed that. I can’t help but wonder why they broke up, because they both seem quite interested in each other’s lives, still.”

Clemence’s brows furrowed as she tapped her index finger against her wine glass. The sound of her nail against the glass was kind of comforting, if I was being honest. I couldn’t place what it reminded me of, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. “You can break up with someone even if you still love them,” Clemence said finally. “And you can be aware that they’re bad for you, and that you’re bad for them, and still want them.” She shrugged. “We’ll never know anyway. I don’t think he’ll ever talk about it.

I’d hope he’d at least talk about it with whoever he ends up marrying, I thought with a sigh. “Good point. Have you ever spoken to her? I was kind of surprised to see her at our etiquette lesson. I thought it might be another one of Princess Ayesha’s pranks.”

She pursed her lips, frowning. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “I feel like it could have been Felicity’s own idea to show up unexpected. She’s looking for trouble, much more than Princess Ayesha. Just the feeling that I have,” Clemence finished with a shrug.

I hummed thoughtfully for a moment, feeling a warmth spread through my body. That was definitely a side effect of the wine, I was sure. “That very well could be.” I sighed. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come down to this, you know? Us fighting her for his attention? I thought when he declared a Selection, that that meant they were over - for good.” I sighed again, placing my glass on the table. It was bad enough we already had to compete with each other for his attention, but I truly had hoped that we wouldn’t have to compete with Felicity Graham as well. She definitely had a leg up on all of us, that was undeniable. What had I gotten myself into? I braced my elbows on my knees, putting my head in my hands and looking at the ground. I had to get myself together. I was better than this. I looked back up at Clemence, running my fingers through my hair a few times and offering her a rueful smile. “I guess I really am just that naive.”

Before I knew it, Clemence had moved to my side, placing her hand on my shoulder. I met her eyes, only to find her smiling at me with a sense of sadness. I hated those smiles - the ones filled with pity, but I wasn’t about to tell her that, not when she was being so kind. “There’s nothing wrong in wanting your own prince charming. Besides, it’s better to be aware of the risks now than to realize he still loves her when it’s too late.”

I wanted her to be wrong so badly. I wanted to yell, I wanted to find the prince and ask him myself, I wanted him to tell us that we were wrong. No, that was stupid, that would never happen. God, I didn’t even know what I wanted! I couldn’t find it in myself to argue with Clemence, though. I might not like what she was saying, but she was looking out for me, and was genuinely kind, it seemed. “Thank you,” I responded. “I think it’s important that we look out for each other, you know?”

She smiled in reply. “I agree,” she stated, picking up her glass and leaning against the back of the couch, squirming for a few moments until settling into a comfortable position. “How old are you, by the way?”

“Twenty,” I answered. “You?” I leaned back, pulling my right leg under me so I could angle myself to face Clemence.

Her eyes were closed as she took another sip. “You baby,” she replied with a laugh. “I’m turning twenty-three - in several months, but still. I’m a sixty-seven kid, through and through,” she finished with an affirming nod.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her answer. “Listen, I had no control over my birthday! But it’s probably for the better that I’m not older. I literally cannot imagine applying for jobs while being here. Even when - or if - I return home, I have a feeling job interviews are going to be mortifying. I mean, imagine telling your potential boss, ‘Oh, yeah, I took some time off because I thought I might be the next queen of Illea, but that didn’t work out, so I’m here now, and very interested in your job offer.’” I laughed a little harder, covering my mouth with my free hand as I did.

Clemence offered me a small smile in return. “Oh, don’t worry, the PR training will be so good, job interviews won’t look frightening at all. You survive the Report every week, right? Job interviews will mean nothing in comparison.” She shook her head, and I realized I had forgotten about that. “But honestly, I don’t know that much about job interviews. I’ve never had to go through one.” She inclined her head slightly as she considered that fact for a moment. “Oh, well, maybe that meeting I had when I applied to be an emergency foster care parent can be considered a job interview? And all the times I applied for volunteering? But it’s not as big as a job,” she finished with a shrug and a small laugh. “Sorry, I wish I could give advice for that, but I can’t. Two privileges.”

“Wait, you’re a foster care parent? That’s awesome!” I couldn’t stop the smile growing on my face. It was like I was looking at Clemence in a new light. “Being a good parent is one of the most important jobs in the world!”

She simply shook her head, laughing. “Emergency foster care,” she corrected. “That’s kind of different. I have the kids in my care for a few days, a month maximum, until they can go back to their families, or are sent to someone for something more long-term.”

“That’s still super cool,” I insisted. “The world needs more people that are willing to do that.” I shook my head, feeling a blush begin to creep across my face again. Hopefully I could get away with blaming being flushed on the wine. “You mentioned you do other volunteer work - what do you do? I think the most I’ve ever done were service projects my high school ran.”

“Don’t blush, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Damn, she caught me. “I didn’t do it when I was still in school either. I just didn’t have the time, so I can’t imagine what it’s like in university.” She averted her gaze to the ceiling for a moment before continuing. “Well, childcare and education are kind of my thing, so I volunteer a lot in that. Ecology too, sometimes. Oh, and animals, too, but that’s mostly because my sister begged me to. She thinks I’ll say yes to a dog if I keep being around one.” She laughed and shook her head, taking a few more sips of wine.

I laughed along. “My sister and I tried to do something similar with my father, when we were kids. We tried to convince him to do a study on dog behavior, so we could have dogs in our house. That’s when we learned that his studies were more in neurobio than ecology.”

“Honestly, for me, that’s pretty much the same thing,” Clemence replied, raising her eyebrows and laughing. “So you’re all scientists in your family?”

“Not all. My mother teaches music theory at a local high school, and my sister wants to follow in her footsteps. I think my younger brother might, too, but he won’t tell any of us what he’s into, besides pulling pranks.” The memories of his antics ran through my head, like a strip from a photo booth with no end in sight. I couldn’t help but laugh as I recalled them one by one, rolling my eyes at the hilarity of all of them. “Teenage boys, you know? But my dad and I are both into bio, and my other brothers are into chem and engineering. What about you?”

“My sister’s only nine, so it changes every day. Inventor, soldier, hockey player, baseball player -” she laughed “-rinse and repeat. She would do it all if she could! My stepfather is a Marine, my mother is in diplomacy, and my other stepfather is an ambassador. I think you can find pretty much every job Twos can do in my family,” she concluded, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, I think it’s good to have role models with diverse interests - it shows children they don’t have to be locked into just one path, you know? And it’s awesome that your sister has so many interests.” I sighed. “Remember being kids, and feeling like we could do anything we wanted to?” I shook my head as I took another sip of wine. What a time that was!

Clemence giggled, the sound softly floating through the room before she spoke. “No, I didn’t. I was thrown into figure skating too young for that. It was my only interest for a good decade, until I discovered boys.” She took another sip of wine and laughed some more.

Boys, but not the prince, then. Interesting. I giggled along regardless, enjoying her company. “Thank God my parents didn’t do that for me. I wanted to be a prima ballerina when I was younger, and now look at me - I fell flat on my face walking across my room this morning.” It was true. I had the bruise on my right shoulder to prove it, I realized, laughing some more. “But now studying biology is like, three quarters of my personality.” I could feel my smile shrinking as I shook my head, and averted my gaze to the floor.

“I’m sure biology isn’t that much of your personality,” Clemence insisted, inclining her head. “You just need to be away from it for a while, and you’ll see everything else that you are beyond that.”

I laughed, though it came out more wryly than I had intended. “That’s what the biology break is for, I guess!”

She nodded along. “I prefer you see it that way.”

“Okay.” I bit my lip. What did she mean by that? Why should her preference hold any weight in my life decisions? “How long did it take you to find other interests, after you quit ice skating?”

“Depression included, or nah?” Her eyes met mine as she took another sip.

I blinked at her casual manner, frowning. “Oh.” I needed more wine for this conversation than I had thought I would, apparently. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Clemence waived her hands through the air dismissively. “It’s fine. It was a few years ago.” She nudged me gentry, smile still in place on her face. “Don’t worry, depression isn’t a mandatory phase.”

I put my wine glass down on the coffee table, knowing full well that I was unable to stop the flow of the words about to exit my mouth. Why was I like this? “While I’m glad to hear that, I’m still sorry to hear you had to go through it.” I exhaled heavily before continuing, this time with a softer voice. “I don’t talk about it often, but I suffered from really bad anxiety for most of my teenage years and like,” I paused, trying to find the right words. Should I reassure her that I was in a much better place now - because I was - or tell her I understood how she felt, even if past was past? “Mental illness sucks, is all.”

Very eloquent, Evalin, I thought to myself.

I shook my head. “Anyways, I’m here if you ever need to talk. Or if you need a spontaneous dance break, or a wine night, or whatever. I’m down for anything.” I pursed my lips for a moment before adding, “Except hard drugs. I think I draw the line there.”

“And I draw the line at just drugs, so you’re fine.” She poured more wine. “Tell me about the anxiety. How is it now?”

“A lot better now,” I answered honestly, waving my hand through the air. It had taken me a long time, and a fair bit of therapy, to identify the root of my anxiety, but identifying it and learning new coping mechanisms had helped a lot. For some reason, however, my mouth could not seem to put all that into a sentence spoken aloud. “Realizing I don’t have to be perfect helped, I think,” I finished, shrugging.

Clemence took a sip of her wine, and I could tell by her body language that she was not buying it. I just wished I could communicate with her telepathically somehow, to show her I truly was in a better place now. Why had I told her at all? It probably would’ve been easier to keep my mouth shut.

“Are you not worried that the Selection may change that?”

“I honestly hadn’t even thought about the possibility,” I answered with yet another shrug. “What about you? Are you worried about something similar, with your depression?”

“I was depressed because my body had failed me and I was forced to stop doing something I had spent my entire life dedicating myself to because of it.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Oh, and I found out my ex was cheating like the week I publicly announced my retirement, which didn’t help either. I was feeling like I was losing everything that I thought made me me. I was in pieces honestly, and it kept accumulating.” She shrugged again, adding, “But it’s different from a Selection. The crazy expectations to be a perfect princess don’t have much in common with what I lived, so I don’t really worry about it. The worst that man can do is break my heart, which he won’t.”

What if he does, I wanted to ask, What then? I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the prince than he was letting us see. He was definitely a guarded person, likely for the same reason Clemence was, if I was being honest. She might be open at this point in time, but I was fairly certain her refusal to let the prince in was the product of the same set of emotions that led the prince to seem so disinterested in all of us. I’d never say as much to her, though. Not yet, at least.

I found Clemence looking at me, her eyes softer than before. “However,” she began again, “if you have struggled with perfectionism and anxiety in the past, you should be careful. Not everyone can resist that pressure, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

I haven’t given into that pressure since high school, I wanted to scream.

“Wow, that’s a lot. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said instead, my voice soft. I looked down quickly before bringing my gaze back up to meet Clemence’s, offering her a small smile. “I think I’ll be okay. Thank you, though.” I stretched, the clock on the wall catching my attention. Was it that late already? Dang. “I think I should probably head off to bed now, and try to get some sleep tonight. Thank you for this, though,” I continued as I stood up. “It was very much needed.”

Clemence simply stared at me, her eyes narrowed and following my every move, until her gaze eventually drifted to the books I had placed on the coffee table. “Sorry if I ruined your leisure time.”

“You absolutely did not ruin it, at all,” I insisted, picking up my books and offering her a smile. “In fact, this was much more fun than anything I had planned.” I laughed a little at that before adding, “Anyways, good night. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

With a nod, she moved back to the couch she had originally been sitting on, picking up the yarn that had sat abandoned while we had chatted. I turned to leave, stopping only when she said, “Oh, and Evalin?”

“Yeah?” I asked, looking at her over my shoulder.

“Be careful with Arin. I think there’s a side of him you don’t want to see.”

I frowned, but nodded nonetheless. “I’ll keep an eye out. Thank you.”

“I’m always here, whenever you need,” she added with a smile, though there was a tension in her face that had not been there before. “Good night.”

“Likewise. Good night,” I finished with one last nod, exiting the women’s room.

Clemence was kind, and her intentions were good, I was sure of that, but just like everyone else here, there was definitely more to her than she was letting on. I pondered that as I made my way back towards my room, the wine in my system making me drowsy. At least I’d be able to sleep now. Lost in thought, I almost didn’t notice the letter on the floor of my room as I walked in, as if it had been slipped under the door.

With a sigh, I picked it up. The envelope definitely belonged to someone in the palace, that much was evident from the ornate design on the front of it. I carefully broke the seal, almost laughing as I read the words the note contained.

It was an instruction to meet Prince Arin at the front of the palace the following day. For our first date.

I placed the letter on top of my desk, along with my books, before shutting off the lights and climbing into my bed. I stared at the ceiling, mulling over the nights events in my mind for a few minutes before sleep took me. Good. I’d definitely need a lot of it tonight.

[outroshooky]

think you’re so criminal | kth

⇢ genre: drabble (artthief!au) (smut, crack)

⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

⇢ word count: 2.0k

⇢ prompt: “right, so i’ve ruined an iconic historical painting with my cum. See kim taehyung, this is why you don’t edge me.”

⇢ warnings: smut (dirty talk, mild exhibitionism, oral sex [f receiving], a mention of cumplay), there’s some foul language and mentions of dick sucking; don’t read this if you don’t like innuendos, jimin being sleazy, or law-breaking; the fourth wall is also broken like three times

⇢  a/n: i’ve had this prompt sitting in my wips folder since last october. thank you @pvrpletae for this one; without you, your burning love for kth, and our questionable text conversations, this drabble would not exist. also, thanks to bad guy and billie eilish for the rough inspiration for this fic

For all of your years of artnapping, absolutely nothing could have possibly prepared you for tonight’s break-in.

I should note that it wasn’t like you didn’t have experience with this. While most folks your age were casually sipping cheap wine at a bar on a lazy Friday night, you could probably be found plotting a break-in to some rich collector’s home who’d taken from the poor to keep for the rich. You liked to think of your occupation as vigilante work; others called it downright illegal. Maybe you’re both right.

It was a family business that got you started, a long-lost connection to a great uncle on your father’s side who’d shown you the ropes, and the rest was history. We won’t talk about how your parents feel about the whole enterprise, but they certainly did appreciate the Monet painting you’d brought home for them for Christmas- even if they wouldn’t hang it up in the foyer. It would’ve pulled the whole living room together if they’d mounted it above the fireplace like your wonderful boyfriend, also known as their unofficially adopted son, had suggested.

Miraculously, your parents had no clue that you’d been partners with the notably infamous Kim Taehyung for longer than you’d worked on your own. Partners was once a generous term- you met when each of you pulled a knife on the other in the basement of the Louvre, Rembrandt in hand- but over time envy morphed into a mutual respect, a tenuous thread of friendship spun into colorful wool that blossomed into its own thick congenial quilt. You knew each other inside and out, and while many in this particular industry opted to fly solo, you took a generous amount of comfort in knowing that no matter what, there was always someone watching your back.

Your parents adored Taehyung with every ounce of warmth in their souls. He could do no wrong in their view, his own puppy-dog almond eyes and the fair bit of innocence that sparkled in them so irresistibly endearing not only to you, but to them, too. You supposed you couldn’t blame them; the first time you saw him, you assumed he was some sort of lost schoolboy in the wrong place at the wrong time. That is, until he’d almost broken your ribs with a well-placed kick and delicately introduced himself as the Nightstalker. At least he apologized afterward.

Needless to say, with all of this in mind, you’d seen plenty in your time doing creative enterprising deals on the black market. You’d nearly gotten your finger cut off when the heavy frame of a Matisse fought back; Taehyung had lost his favorite beret to the hands of the feds; and you’d both, on one occasion, spent fifteen hours in a cramped janitor’s closet that reeked of cat shit. Ironically enough, the latter happened to occur on the same day you met Taehyung. Alas, that’s a story for another fic.

Anyways, there’s one little detail I forgot to mention that might be relevant. You had, in fact, been dating Taehyung for three years, had known him prior for about half that. And yes, you absolutely had fucked in the middle of a heist.

At least once.

But not more than four times.

It wasn’t like you had planned it. It was one of those things that just sort of happened on its own; nobody was home and the getaway car was late, so Taehyung suggested that he kill time with his head between your thighs. If someone had told your earlier self that you’d be getting off in the dusty attic of the museum you had freshly robbed to merely kill time, you wouldn’t have believed them, but there you were, going on your three year anniversary, sucking his dick an hour later in the comfort of your own home as a thank-you present.

And tonight, apparently, was heading down the same route.

It was a simple break-in, one that you’d done before, from some guy (last name Kim, first name Seokjin) who had a penchant for hoarding works of art that deserved to be appreciated in the public eye. You’d deemed yourselves knights of valor, taking not only the O’Keeffe and the tiny little Pollock shoved recklessly in a dusty corner, but pocketing a miniature Rodin that Taehyung spotted on the bedside table. It was all too easy- change your locks, folks!- and thus, you were left with time to kill before Jimin pulled up in an inconspicuous white worker’s van. 

Blame the fairly suggestive Hayes painting Seokjin had perched over his king-size bed, which happened to be draped with red silk sheets. He was a man of taste in more than one category, it seemed, and as Taehyung had hinted at, it would be a pity not to, ah- christen not only the now-bare walls as your own, but the neatly made head of the house.

Blood rushed in your ears as Taehyung made it quick, a few sloppy strokes of his tongue making you squirm and hiss. “S-swear to god, Taehyung, we’re gonna get caught-”

“If you keep being loud, we will, babygirl.”

“Are we c-completely su- fuck- sure the housekeeper is g-gone for the evening?”

Taehyung withdrew slightly and hummed, tracing his fingers through the slick. “I thought we decided Seokjin and the housekeeper are fucking each other. That’s why the sheets are red. Don’t think we didn’t spot the matching sheets in the carriage-house bedroom half an hour ago.”

You exhaled unsteadily, feeling completely wrecked under the power of your boyfriend’s lips and tongue. “That doesn’t mean they might not still be here.”

Taehyung’s eyebrow quirked between the apex of your thighs. “I wonder what thrills you more, federal handcuffs on your wrists or the look on Kim’s face when he sees you on your back and smells you all over his sheets.” His eyes narrow, the pleased look of the devil incarnate marring his handsome features. “Bet you’d love either option.”

“Don’t you have better things to do with that tongue than run them off about my worries?” You retorted. It was a weak insult, but an effective one.

Taehyung drove you to the brink of near-insanity, wanting to drag this wonderfully fucked-up act as long as humanly possible without the risk of genuine danger. However, the twice-repeated honk of a car outside meant Jimin had made his way into position, and you were running out of time.

“Tae, baby-”

“Fuck,” he panted, speeding up. “Be a good girl, come on babygirl. Cum all over my tongue, you’ve done so well for me, baby. Cum, now.”

At the same moment that it hit you, a dazzling euphoria of white that sparked and sputtered behind closed eyelids, a horn just under the windowsill honked one long blast.

You were about to have company, and if the panic in Taehyung’s eyes was anything to go by, you’d overstayed your welcome.

His neglected, throbbing boner would have to wait.

“Isn’t he not supposed to be home yet? I thought he was in Germany!” You whispered as you scrambled off the bed with a mind still foggy from your orgasm. You stumbled to find your various articles of clothing scattered about the feet of the furniture.

“For another four days, he was!” Taehyung retorted in a slightly louder whisper. Next to you, he ripped at the corners of the bed, furiously wrapping the stolen artworks in the silk sheets themselves.

“What do we do?” You murmured, fingers hurriedly finding the clasp of your pants.

Two levels below, the front door creaked open and footsteps resounded in the massive, marble-floored foyer.

“Taehyung, we have to go,” you urged in low tones, tripping into your left sneaker.

“I know, just-” The traces of sex had drained from his voice, replaced by daunting panic. “Help me with these, please.”

Footsteps resounded on the stairs, thumping closer and closer, and you didn’t even have time to process the fear before your feet were moving and you made your way to the window, following close behind Taehyung. Your boyfriend took care to lower the last two stolen paintings to a waiting Jimin before he himself took one last glance back at the bedroom and saluted. “It was fun desecrating you!”

The bedroom door creaked open just as Taehyung began to ease himself off the sill.

“Go!” You hissed, practically shoving your boyfriend out the window before you followed, clutching the Pollock tightly to your chest.

You hit the ground and rolled, your shoulder taking the brunt of the impact as you stumbled and threw yourself into Jimin’s van as his foot slammed the gas pedal down. The engine revved hard, peeled rubber burning black on the uneven cobblestone of the narrow city streets. Taehyung wrenched the door closed and held on just a second longer, eyes on the dark figure that had appeared at the window you had slipped out of a mere seconds before. You panted, air wheezing in and out of your lungs erratically as you regained your senses. In the darkness of the van, it was impossible to read Taehyung’s feelings until he spoke.

“Well, that was an adventure.”

“Taehyung.”

“It certainly was the most risque of our trips; I mean, it beat out the time we fucked in a chur-”

“Taehyung.”

“What?”

In the frantic struggle to finish wrapping your stolen goods and lower them via silk sling to the waiting hired help below, you had realized, in a stunning moment of clarity, that Taehyung had not taken the time to wipe his fingers clean before touching your prizes. His tongue may be experienced, but his idea of how to preserve a historical masterpiece was not. “Did you, by any chance, wipe your hands before you picked up the artwork?”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating. “Was I supposed to?”

“Oh my god.” You collapsed back into the seat, running a hand through your messy hair. “Right, so I’ve ruined an iconic historical painting with my cum. See Kim Taehyung, this is why you don’t edge me.”

“It could’ve been worse; I only touched the frame.”

“The four-hundred-and-ninety-year-old frame?” You gaped at him. “Do you really want to be searching up what pussy juice does to a Da Vinci at one in the morning?”

Taehyung shrugged. “It’s nothing a little lemon juice, magnesium, and a rag won’t take off.”

“And how do you know that for certain?”

In the rearview mirror, Taehyung and Jimin locked eyes, and Jimin opened his mouth, then closed it again. Mild horror seeped into your bones.

“Have either of you actually had to remove semen from a historical object before?”

Jimin wisely stayed silent. 

Taehyung gently withdrew the statue from his pocket, turning it over to inspect its cracks and crevices. “All I’m saying is, The Girl isn’t the only one with pearly-”

“You are disgusting,” you declared, folding your arms over your chest.

“This is coming from the one who probably left her panties in the house of the collector she just robbed.”

The car went momentarily quiet, the mild horror rotting in your bones suddenly turning a freezing cold. “Taehyung…?”

He opted not to reply, and his hesitance was all you needed.

“Fuck!”

“Hey, look at it this way,” Jimin peeped from the front seat. “At least you’ll have something to tell your parents over Christmas dinner.”

“Park Jimin, I am not telling my parents about how my most expensive pair of lingerie was left in the home of collector Kim Seokjin, whose new acquisitions coincidentally went missing the same night!”

“I mean, if it was a good fuck…”

You smacked Taehyung’s arm as he whined in protest.

“You two are so cute,” Jimin teased. “Like an old married couple.”

“If old married couples like to break into houses together and give head while stealing the art, you’d be spot on.”

Taehyung opened his mouth and you silenced him with a glare. He mouthed something at you and you rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’ll still suck your dick when we get home!”

[pineapple-qween]

I’m Capable!

Relationship: Jason Todd x Reader (angstyyyyyyyy)

Summary:  Hi! Can you do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader goes on her first mission and Jason gets like super overprotective and they fight about it

Author: wazzup nerds, I’m back!

Key: Y/N= your name, L/N= your last name, S/H/N= your superhero name

Warnings!: Language, death

After months of training and researching in the safety of the BatCave, Bruce finally agreed to let you go on patrol. You seemed to excel at helping Batman stop street crime, so much so that Bruce approached you one evening, before leaving for patrol, and took you aside.

“Y/N, you’ve been a real help keeping Gotham’s streets free of crime as S/H/N. I’m proud of how far you’ve come and all the training you’ve put into this,” Bruce gave you a smile, his highest sign of pride, and continued, “Would you want to join us on the next mission? Before you say anything, I want you to know that missions are way more dangerous then patrol. Things can go wrong very easily on a mission.” Bruce looked you up and down. “What do you say?”

You took a deep breath, you knew this was going to be difficult but it wasn’t anything you felt you couldn’t handle. You looked Bruce in the eyes and sternly stated, “Yes. I’m in.”

Weeks before your mission with Batman and the Batboys, you were continually debriefed by Tim and trained harder by Dick and Damian than you’d ever trained with them before. It was to the point were you had to disappear if you wanted any alone time. The only person who seemed to ignore you was Jason, which wasn’t surprising. 

You and Jason never really got along, you always felt as if Jason thought you didn’t belong with them. Maybe it was because you were a girl. Maybe it was because he just didn’t really take to newcomers. You don’t think you’ll ever know the reason, but you weren’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

One of the times, three days before the mission, you were trying to hide out and get a little peace and quiet, you ran smack dab into Jason. You stumbled backwards from the solid mass and looked at who you ran into. When you saw it was Jason, and Jason had recognized you, you both grimaced.

“Watch where you’re walking,” he grumbled.

“Whatever,” you mumbled back. You went to continue walking but he grabbed your arm. “What?”

Jason’s face distorted in a compassionate kind of way before it returned to his normal scowl. “Don’t go on the mission. You’ll get hurt.”

Surprised by the comment, your eyebrows shot up. “W-what?”

Spinning you around to face him face to face, Jason leaned down to be eye level with you. “Don’t. Go.”

If his tone wasn’t so patronizing, you would’ve thought Jason actually cared about your well-being. But alas, he sounded like he wasn’t happy that you were tagging along. Angrily, you spat, “I can do what I want. I’m capable of anything! You have no say in where I go or what I do. You aren’t the boss of me!” You snatched your arm away from Jason’s grip and stormed off.

The day of the mission, the entire manor seemed to be on edge. Changes were being made to the plans every hour until everything was perfect, or as close to perfect as they could get. You did your best to help out or be out of the way, so everything could get done.

You sat in the living room, trying to focus on reading, glancing at the clock every few minutes. You tapped your foot as your eyes read and reread the same paragraph over and over. Time was moving as slow as it could until you heard feet trot down the hall towards the living room. In walked Tim, his hair raggedy and his eyes zooming over a stack of papers.

“Everything ready,” you asked, setting your book face down on the side table.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Tim sighed, “Y/N, this is one of the most important missions I’ve ever had to help plan and I’m nervous.”

You gave a little giggle, “Everyone gets nervous Tim.”

Tim looked at you seriously, “You don’t understand. I’m never nervous because I always have a solid and flexible plan. But this,” he smacked the papers,” this is complete nonsense!”

You lifted your eyebrows at his outburst. “Do you not believe in Bruce?”

Tim sighed even deeper than before, “It’s not that. It’s because this is so dangerous that I want to make sure no one will get hurt or worse.” With those words his eyes had shifted off of you and to the floor.

Your face got red with frustration and a little bit of anger as Tim inadvertently reminded you of your run in with Jason. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” You watched Tim’s face develop a blush as you stood from your chair and walked out of the room, going to the Batcave to wait for the debriefing.

Dick, Damian, Jason, Barbara, Stephanie, Tim, Bruce, and yourself as sat around the debriefing table in the Batcave and listened to Bruce go completely over the plan.

“Everyone understand?” Bruce waited for nods. “Good, okay, now for teams. Tim?”

Tim stood up, “Dick and Babs you’ll start here in the cave then Dick will hit the field after Babs works her magic. Damian you’re with Bruce, as per usual. Steph, you and me are strike team 1,” he pauses as Steph lets out a ‘yes!’, “that makes Jason and Y/N as strike team 2.”

Internally, you are groaning for a thousand years. Out of everyone in this cave and on this team, you got stuck with Jason. Jason! The one person out of everyone who didn’t want you on this mission is your teammate. Oh the how the fates like to mess you up.

After hating life for a moment, you look at Jason and see the he doesn’t seem phased. It’s probably because Tim told him that he’d have to deal with you before this and he prepared himself for it. You guessed he got all of his groaning out before hand.

Bruce spoke up again, “Get with your teammate and be prepared to leave in the next few minutes, I need to talk to Alfred then we’ll be off. Remember, you and your teammate are integral to this mission. Protect each other. It’s about to get dangerous.”

You and Jason walk over to your bikes. He stops you before you reach your bike. “You heard Bruce, this is going to be dangerous. Back out now. You aren’t going to be safe.”

Your face starts boiling. “He also said we’re all integral parts of this mission. I’m just as important as you are. We also have to protect each other, remember that?” You got right into his face.

Jason remained calm which infuriated you even more. “I’m trying to protect you before something bad happens,” his scowl makes his words mean nothing.

You watch Bruce walk to the Batmobile. You stare Jason right in his eyes, “Time to go.”

No one knows where it went wrong. No one knows how it went wrong. All anyone knows is that is went off the walls wrong.

The last thing you remember was Jason and you making your way to your ambush positions, but there was no one there. That was when you heard the sirens and the spotlights shown on you and him.

“S/H/N we gotta move! Go, go, go!” You ran ahead of Jason barely as he fired on the oncoming rouges. When he had a second, he yelled into his comm, “S/H/N and I are under heavy fire, requesting back up.”

Through static you heard Bruce’s voice, “We can’t get through to you guys! You need to retreat, get out of there!”

You see a clear ally and grab Jason’s arm, “Through here!” You drag him through and hit a wall. “Shit!” You spin around and watch as you two begin to be surrounded. Bruce’s words echo through your head, Protect each other. You look at Jason, “Red Hood, you climb. I’ll hold them off and when you reach the top, send down a rope. Got it?”

Even with his mask on, you could see the frown as he shook him head. “Red Hood! I’m not asking! Just do it.”

Begrudgingly, you watch as he began to scale the wall, one thing you knew you were bad at. I’ll have to work on that, you thought. It wasn’t until you saw blow back close to Jason’s foot that you remembered your job. You had to protect.

Jason looked down from his climbing and watch as you took on the advancing forces, encouraging him to pic up his pace. He knew you shouldn’t have come. He told Bruce. He told Tim. He told Dick, Damian, Steph, Babs, anyone he thought would listen, but no one did. He couldn’t lose you.

He swung his leg on top of the roof, readying a rope to throw down, when he watched you get hit. He didn’t see where it went, but it didn’t look good from the way you reacted. “Y/N!” He saw you turn and he dropped the rope down to you. He watched you grab it and he pulled you up to him. All he could think was to get you out of there.

Once he did, Jason grabbed your arm and started to run with you. He noticed that you were slowing down and, without a second thought, scooped you up into his arms. “Come on! We got to get out of here,” he looked at you an noticed how pale you were getting. “Y/N, stay with me. I promised to protect you damn it.”

You two were at your bikes when Jason set you back down, but you couldn’t stand. It was at that point that Jason realized you were shot in the stomach. “Shit!” Jason spoke into the comm, “Bruce, Y/N got shot and she isn’t looking good. We’re at our bikes, get here now!” Bruce replied but Jason was laser focused on you.

“Y/N I told you this was gonna be too dangerous. Why wouldn’t you listen to me? I love you and I wanted to keep you safe!” Jason’s head fell and he felt his tears start streaming down his cheeks.

A voice that sounded softer than the wind, whispered, “You love me?”

Jason fell to his knees, helmet discarded, and looked you in the eyes, “Always have.” He listen to you chuckled but it tuned into sour coughing. “Please, you gotta stay with me. I can’t lose you.”

You looked like you were about to say something, but Jason watched as your head lobed to the side. Lifeless.

And Jason sobbed over you forever.

[wonderlustlucas]

dancing through our house - kim yugyeom

⇢ prompt Feet don’t dance like they did with you.—“ghost of you” by 5 seconds of summer ⇢ pairing yugyeom x female reader ⇢ word count 2.5k ⇢ genre some fluff, but mainly heavy angst ⇢ warnings main character death; descriptions of anxiety & depression ⇢ summary In which some things are impossible to forget. ⇢ a/n this be hella sad i think i cried the whole time writing this. listen to the song for optimum sadness. my friend read this earlier and told me to quote what she said sooo: BUT LIKE EVEN THOUGH IT HITS YOU AT THE CORE AND YOUR LIKE WOW THIS IS SO GOOD YOUR ALSO LIKE FUCK THIS AUTHOR CAUSE WOW IM CRYIN

“You’re too pretty for a shitty place like this,” you commented boldly; however, no trace of humor laced your tone and, casual as ever, you took a long gulp from your red plastic cup as Yugyeom leaned against the marble island, speechless because he was the one that spent hours planning for this moment. He was the one that had an insufferable crush on your pretty face from the moment he tumbled headfirst, literally, into your life. Days had rolled into weeks which rolled into months and he simply could never bottle up all his feelings and serve them as they were, “Today’s the day,” he told himself practically every morning, yet as soon as he marched into the lecture hall with the courage of an ex-One Direction fan slash current K-pop fan and found you so, so effortlessly beautiful amongst your circle of friends, his tail shot between his legs and, alas, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow’s the day.”

And so, when Yugyeom’s first ever university end of year party rolled around, BamBam, Jeongguk, and Mingyu thrust an absurd amount of shots down his esophagus and propelled him like a rocket to where you concocted some sort of drink, he was ready this time. He was going to grab the bull—no, not a bull, you’re too pretty to even be labeled as some sort of animal—by the horns and spill out every last ounce of his emotions until his lungs collapsed, whether you remembered him from the first day of freshman orientation nearly six months ago when he oh-so-gracefully smacked your iced coffee right out of your hands or not. He was here now, prepared to do whatever it took to sweep you off your feet, not vice versa.

“You didn’t give me a chance to get to the good part of this conversation,” Yugyeom grumbled, ruffling his hair with his hands, he saw—he saw your eyes follow the motion and his heart absolutely picked up to a detrimental rate. “Wait,” you smiled—or was that a smirk you were hiding?—and added an ungodly amount of rum to your cup, “I think this is where you’re finally going to tell me how you feel and I’d rather embarrass myself drunk than embarrass myself sober because, I’ll have you know, I nearly shit my pants every time I see you.”

Suddenly Yugyeom’s tongue was pulsing like a heart in his very dry mouth and he most definitely misheard you—right? “Is that a good shit, or a bad shit?”

You laughed, a sound so sickly sweet he fleetingly considered smashing his head through the wall until your answer blessed his ears, “Nah, it’s a good shit. I heard you were head over heels for me, or something like that, back in January and I thought you’d come talk to me but—ah, never mind. Needless to say, we were both dumb for not just speaking up.”

“Does this mean if I ask you on a date you won’t reject me?” Yugyeom let out a shaky laugh, mesmerized with the way your skin glowed under the kitchen’s dimmed lights, he fought the urge not to cup your face and instead opted for stepping closer, breathing in your rosy perfume and nearly losing his shit, when you responded with a bashful smile.

“Yeah,” you sighed, much more breathless than you’d like to be, “you don’t have to worry about that anytime soon. Unless, of course, you’re a total dickhead or a terrible kisser,” you snorted, a noise usually found unpleasant but Yugyeom wanted nothing more than to prove to the world no fresh-out-of-the-pussy puppy was cuter than you; however, his prize-winning grin faltered when you went on, “which by the way, I think we should totally test that out. You know, in case you are a terrible kisser and I have time to back out of this dating proposition.”

Yugyeom didn’t need to be asked twice and yanked you forward so quickly you yelped, but, the gentleman he is, steadied you against his chest and dipped down to kiss you without a single drop of hesitation. His lips found yours effortlessly, heart singing with joy when you gasped against his mouth but melted into his arms nevertheless, his tongue ran along the seam of your lips, and he could just barely taste a hint of Doritos cheese as—

The shrieking of his cellphone like an angry rattlesnake renders Yugyeom’s peaceful dreaming of the beginning of his relationship with you nearly 3 years ago cut short-lived, he lets out an aggravated groan, slapping around the mattress aimlessly for the device before pressing down on the off button to shut the annoying blaring off.

Brain still clouded with sleep, Yugyeom flips onto his stomach and sighs blissfully, stretching his arm out to the pillows on the left side in order to determine whether you’ve already left for work or not.

Upon feeling the icy touch of the sheets Yugyeom rolls over to your side, relishing in mornings like these: he’s home, you’ll be home soon, he can spend the rest of the day—the whole day!—with you. Cheek pressed against your pillows, Yugyeom inhales a hefty breath of your scent, filling his lungs and brain with the jasmine and vanilla perfume from your shampoo. He smiles into the coolness of the downy pillow, contemplating whether he wants to send you good morning meme until, like a shit ton of bricks dumped on his head, the weight of the world falling on his shoulders, the realization hits Yugyeom slowly, cruelly.

He realizes, upon impact, that whether he texted your phone or not—you won’t answer. He could text you a million times a minute, call you even, and you wouldn’t answer because you’re not here. Eyelids fluttering open within milliseconds, Yugyeom jerks away from your side of the bed with a choke, clawing the sheets as he flies from the bed, nearly crumbling to the floor but catching a grip against the windowsill. You’re gone.

Breathless and with your smell multiplying like cells in his senses, Yugyeom reaches for the closest thing—one of his pillows hanging lopsided off the mattress—and pelts it to the wall across from where he stands, heaving, watching with disappointment as it thumps against the brick lightly and, consequently, not unleashing any of his pent-up emotions. Your beautiful heart isn’t even beating.

But he knows if you were here, you’d tell him he would be just fine.

The red and black and white grain muddling Yugyeom’s vision begins to clear as he chokes on air, the briny taste of tears enters his mouth when he licks his chapped lips and when did he start crying?

Six feet underground. Like the past thirty-three days, Yugyeom blinks away the rest of his tears and waits until they’re dribbling down his cheeks to wipe them, he lets out a shaky breath and proceeds with his day, plucking up the pillow and setting it back on the bed like you would’ve asked him to.

When he leaves the bedroom and makes way for the kitchen, he winces at the eerie silence of the apartment aside from the incessant percussion of birds singing outside the living room window and occasional creaking of the attendants an apartment above and decides some Chris Brown could do. Swinging open the refrigerator door, Yugyeom sighs at what’s inside—or, better, there lack of—and decides, he really needs to go grocery shopping; a half-empty gallon of milk, three eggs left in the carton, what’s left of the sliced bread, and four bottles of soju that has turned into medicine to cure his headaches and panic attacks rather than a way to enjoy nights like he used to with you.

Despite the persistent growling from his gut, Yugyeom only reaches for the milk, sets it down on the counter and hums—he hums!—something so insignificant but something he hasn’t done since your accident as he reaches for the dishwasher and pulls the door open. His humming stops when he catches sight of your coffee cup inside, mauve lipstick stain faded even more from the day before and he knows if he wants it to stay he has to stop using it every morning, but a part of him cannot help but reach for it because it’s just another part of you.

His stomach churns and keeps churning and suddenly Yugyeom’s head is heavy and saliva is flooding his mouth and he’s burning hotter than the star that keeps our planet alive and he scrambles to the stainless steel and heaves into the sink, expelling everything from his belly, which, ultimately, is nothing. Yugyeom dry-heaves, once, twice, before inhaling a shuddering breath, drool dripping from his lips and down his chin until he hastily wipes it away. With his appetite stolen like a rug whipped away from beneath his feet, Yugyeom slams the dishwasher door closed, the contents angrily rattling inside, and leaves the milk on the counter for he could not give less of a shit.

A cold shower fixes everything, love, you would say, the cold-shower freak yourself, he nods to himself, a cold shower will do, Yugyeom makes way for the bathroom and strips from his clothes that seem to stick to his sweaty body, twists the shower knob just slightly so the stream is at its coldest possible temperature before whipping aside the curtain and stepping inside. Yugyeom shudders at the contact of water against his skin, goosebumps spreading across his body head to toe and he presses himself against the wall, shivers wracking his body, squeezing his eyes tighttighttightuntil it all goes away, until he’s numb, until your standing beside him again.

His body, at some point, numbs to the frigid water and he finally backs away from the wall to stand underneath the shower head, running his hands through his raven hair, rubbing the crust away from his eyes, washing up quickly and using your body cleanser instead of his own. When Yugyeom’s finished, he dries off quickly and wraps the towel low on his hip, but frowns when he enters your bedroom because you’re not there to tell him how hot he is and how lucky you are, in which he would tackle your cute ass and smother your face in kisses, which, eventually, lead to his towel on the floor and your clothes dropped next to it.

A dinging notification from Yugyeom’s phone still buried beneath his pillows snaps him back to reality and he wanders over, scrolling through his notifications from the newest to the oldest.

DabDab🤮– 1:42 PM Hey bud. Hope ur getting there. Call me

Missed Call from DabDab🤮 – 11:23 AM

Missed Call from 🅱️eon 🅱️eongguk – 10:14 AM

Yugyeom sighs—he knows he should be grateful his friends care, but he simply does not care enough for himself to constantly answer their nagging questions. He contemplates ignoring it, he could shove the device back under the pillows and answer it tomorrow like he usually does, but he’s gone three days without talking to one of them and so, guilt makes up his mind and he’s tapping away until BamBam’s voice disturbs the deadened ambiance Yugyeom’s created in your bedroom.

“Hey! You called,” BamBam’s voice fills the hair, Yugyeom can almost see the smile, and falls back onto the mattress.

“I called.”

“I know you don’t want to talk, which I understand. But I want you to do me a favor,” BamBam goes on, Yugyeom pinches the bridge of his nose, biting back a sharp retort, “I want you to use that damn well-spent studio the two of you have in your apartment and freestyle. Just an hour. I know you were coming up for a choreo to something, I don’t know, but go do that.”

Yugyeom pauses, considering the idea, but shuts it down quickly because he does not want to do anything but lie here, “I can’t. Not today.”

“Yugyeom, you’ve said that to everything. I know you’re not doing anything, and I don’t blame you. But if there’s one thing you still have and love, that’s dancing. And I’m not arguing with you over this. Please, just do this. For me.”

Yugyeom hears the crack in his best friend’s voice, he can feel the pain through the phone, another ache to add to his poor heart, “I can’t go in that room without her, Bam.”

“You’ve had dance before you had ___, Yugyeom. You shared dance with her, you grew with her from it. You can do it without her. Do it for her, she’d be proud. Okay?”

Yugyeom swallows the lump in his throat, the tears threatening to spill from his burning eyes and his bottom lip trembles, “Okay.”

“Okay. Don’t say okay again, I’m not Augustus Waters,” BamBam chuckles, sniffling on his line and Yugyeom knows he’s crying too but manages to crack a smile, “okay. Fuck! I said it again. Alright, go dance your heart out for a little and take care of yourself. Also, don’t be a stranger. Please.”

Yugyeom nods, digging his knuckle into his eye to stop the tears, he croaks out, “Okay. Thanks, man. See you.”

He hangs up a moment later to let the tears spill freely.

An hour later, Yugyeom stands in the doorway of his—your—dance room, glaring questioningly at the mirrored walls around him, his pitiful reflection staring back at him. Do it for you, he tells himself, stepping inside and clicking the door shut behind him.

Yugyeom stretches his tense muscles, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror in fear he’ll back out or conjure up a mental image of your bruised and bloodied body in the hospital, he mustn’t think about it or else it’ll only get worse. He scrolls through his downloaded songs, zoned in on something other than you for the first time in weeks, going back and forth between a few options before caving in to another Chris Brown bop he cannot get away from.

Just like before, Yugyeom tells himself after his first slip-up, swinging his leg too far to the side and so he begins again, carrying himself with utmost grace and sharp, fluid movements but he shakes his head a minute and a half in—not good enough. “One, two, three, four,” he whispers to himself, starting from the top for the seventh time, he glides and twists and pulls and—

And he blanks hardly thirty seconds in, pausing, staring into his reflection, shuddering for oxygen, long hair tousled from the quick movements, limbs screaming at the sudden usage, and he can’t wrap his mind around what follows next.

“I can’t do it,” Yugyeom says to no one in particular, balling his fists at his sides before collapsing onto the smooth laminate, he looks to the corner of the room and if he squints hard enough, he can imagine you standing there, telling him he can do it, but his tears blur his vision so he buries his head between his knees, “I can’t do it without you.”

And Yugyeom cries for the thirty-third day, for his feet don’t dance like they used to with you.