#'will he choose the one who walked around the rose delicately to stand with it framed neatly in the background between the two of them?--'

[chirpsythismorning]

Ya'll catch the final rose ceremony at the end of s4?!

[sweetghuleh]

[cws] fem reader. older woman/younger man. cheating. mentions of smoking. mentions of drinking. part 1 maybe. unedited.

Sometimes, when someone is young, there is always a mindset where they believe life revolves all around them—where they think that simply because they are young, they automatically stand on the highest pedestal of being intelligent. In some senses, their beliefs are so wide-spread that even the individuals around them tend to fall into that black hole as well, where despite their ages, the brain has yet to mature. You were once a happy woman, married to a beautiful husband who cherished everything about you. Meeting Gojo Satoru when he was in highschool was nothing short of fate, that’s what you liked to believe back then, he was talented at everything, adored by everyone—and so immensely ethereal it was hard to fathom he was human with an appearance so pure, his skin, hair, all of it resembled the clouds that the gods sit on. He had the face that an old master would paint to decipher an angel. Back then, you were all young and stupid, you particularly, on a different level, it wasn’t clear as before, but the memories were faint, bleary, like a forgotten song of childhood, but they were still there.

Personally, you couldn't remember the changes Satoru went through during his time in highschool, where his features became a little less soft and more masculine around the edges. Well, that’s all you could remember anyways, back when you took a young Ieri Shoko as an apprentice and caught subtle glances of him. Getou Suguru thought otherwise. He was quiet then, still is, you didn’t pay as much attention to him like you did with Satoru—despite them being best friends. You had known him as the boy who always had dark shadows under his eyes, purplish, bruise-like shadows, like he was suffering from a sleepless night. Suguru had a face you’d never expect to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Suguru would entice and humor you sometimes, he’d tell you how much his best friend has changed in ways that didn’t involve his physical features, he’d tell you how he was the first to likely see the changes of how Satoru would look at you through his eyes, the ones so polished, that it felt as if the blue pigments could only be found in dreams.

Suguru would tell you, how anyone could see it through Satoru’s eyes—how much softer they’d become when he would look at you and then fall in love all over again. 

You wondered, what had happened for Satoru to stop looking at you like that? 

The porcelain light winked off the sting of your lashes and settled into the flesh of your partially nude body, the surface of the water in your bathtub was still as flat as a mirror, catching each intricate feature of yours—only to throw it back into your face. There was no ripple or tide, and if it weren’t for the gray lace of your cigarette filtering through the air and the ring of your phone in your opposite hand, you would have assumed that time itself had stopped. 

Twenty-Six.

That was the number of times Satoru had called you since the first stars of the night. The water in the bathtub was beginning to grow cold, but the sting of gooseflesh running up the delicate skin of your body was enough to distract you from the silent buzz of your phone, to be frank, you weren’t sure if you had the guts to try and answer his frantic calls. After a quick drag of your dying cigarette, you kill it off in the glass tray beside you, watching as the fumes rose like the figure of a phoenix, and you childishly searched for any shape that could be formed with the gray, fickle smoke. Suddenly, the phone in your hands rang once again. When you were a child, there was always a side of you that allowed to choose scarily accurate guesses that always brought you something good, guesses like knowing who was about to walk through a door without hearing their footsteps, or guessing the color of a cup accurately with your eyes closed, little things like that. You didn’t have to check the caller ID in order to know who was trying to reach out to you, the soft bed of your thumb swiping across the screen.

“Hey.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper—but it was there. 

The opposite end of the call was quiet for a moment, a habit Shoko had whenever she called someone over the phone—something she wasn’t too fond of doing, but she would make an exception if it ever came to you. Always you. “..So? Should I schedule you a trip to the Cayman Islands? What about Miyako?” Her voice was soft, sweet in her own loner way, like the haunting echoes of a cave that harbored sirens. Shoko had been your best friend since she worked under you, after meeting in the more secluded parts of the hospital buildings where the stressed doctors and nurses went to have a quick smoke—the two of you clicked, she followed you like a magnet chasing towards its opposite end, growing closer and closer with each breath. You hardly blinked, your hair felt heavy, crystal water drops forming around, dripping onto your skin, your complexion refracting the pale light of the bathroom—you were something that could stun anyone to their core. 

“No, nothing like that.” Came your answer as manicured fingers got rid of the excess water in your hair, the water in the bathtub rippled around you like haloes as your bare legs shifted slightly. Silence graced the both of you again, and your fingers nearly trembled for another cigarette, aching, even.

“..Satoru let you go.” Shoko spoke again, so suddenly—her sudden words emphasizing the traits of her feline personality, your lips trembling for air, trying to come up with something clever to diversify the weight of devastation, but soon you realized that there are no words to dispute the feeling—calling it what it is. “Yeah.” Boundless embarrassment hooked into your chest and almost pulled it out entirely, as if the water hadn’t been cold enough, frigid heat stung painfully at your skin. The reciprocations of small breaths between Shoko’s lips had paused the minute she said this, almost as if she was captivated by your compliant statement. When you were a child, your mother always seemed to be amazed by how mature your brain seemed to be, if anything, you never believed her. It hadn’t been until high school that you truly realized just how true that statement seemed to be, back then—falling in love at the age of 17 held a kind of rarity that equated to finding rare gemstones, you thought so. When you were a teenager, you had always believed that the fragile beginnings of love was something only a few could find, mystifying around lands of infatuation until they finally found something real. 

It was why you were so, so incredibly hesitant to fall in love with Satoru even years after he finished high school. Back then, the two of you were young and full of life, youthful on different levels, he was far below your age for you to consider dating him at all—he was 16, you were freshly 28. Satoru was like nature’s graffiti; beautiful yet lawless, like he was the color after a storm that embraced the gray skies with open arms. You? You were more like nature’s poetry, gentle and lithe. Like every action you performed was meant to be on the surface of the earth. Or perhaps you were an author’s finest love story. You weren’t sure yet. 

Satoru barreled into your quiet, dark life like a blazing matchstick the very day he turned 21, he had a fire that made you so attentive to the dance of the flames—but you were so careful as to not to get burned, simply allured by the way he seemed to present the embers of his attitude in his tone. You’d never bothered to try and seek as to why Satoru could have been attracted to you, simply content with knowing that he valued you in some way. 

So mature, right? Perhaps that was the first mistake you had made. You wished you could have traveled back in time to tell your younger—supposedly mature self, to not fall for the boy with hair as white as the first winter snows, to save yourself from a life of pain. 

“What will you do now?” Shoko’s voice pulled you from the depths of reality like a savior, and you weaned off your plush bottom lip for a moment, before you allowed yourself to slink even further deeper into the frigid, cold water even more. It was almost starting to feel hot. “What do you think?” An elusive smile crawled onto your lips as you tapped the back of your head against the porcelain of the tub, taking in the relief that filled your lungs in the form of a heavy breath. It hardly helped, but it was something. 

“Well, you can’t go back to him, that’s for sure.” Shoko scoffed, tapping off the excess ash from her cigarette as she spoke into the phone. 

“You know I’m better than that, babe.” Your tone threatened to fall mute, only flashing a mere grin of gratitude that wasn’t quite convincing as you wanted it to be, devastation sunk right into your soul once again. You weren’t sad over the fact that you couldn’t go back to Satoru, you knew from the very deep depths of your brain that you would never go back to him no matter how much your big, golden polished heart wanted to. You were sad over the fact that it would take years to get over him, you were sad that your stupid heart blessed with the wit of a newborn angel, would likely yearn for Satoru no matter how much you know you would never have him back. Despite how much you would never take him back. Shoko spoke up once again, curiously. “Do you know the full story?” Came her question, there was slight shuffling through the other end, and you had a short feeling that she was getting ready to make her way over to ensure that you were fine. With that thought in your head, a small—short exhale escaped the plush of your lips, filtering through the air in a sweet, bell-chime manner as you helped yourself up from the bathtub. Soft flesh decorated with the crystalized droplets of water that luminated your body to an extent, tender spots pebbling as you eagerly brought a towel to your chilly self.

“I know enough. Young woman. Hormones. Something about his new secretary.” 

Shoko clicked her tongue, vibrant brown hair swirling in elegance as she locked her front door expertantly, dark lashes brushing against her fragile little beauty mark. “I don’t get it. Suguru and I have known him since childhood, it’s hard to believe he would pull something like this. Especially to you.” 

You grimaced, you wanted to laugh. Satoru was always a peculiar kid when you met him for the first time in your life, he being 16, you—28. You would always catch the way his eyes snaked their way around every inch of your face and chest with serpentine eagerness. You would tease him for that, too, not in a way that would initiate any romance, but how a woman would. You would magnify your lovely gaze towards him, lay a gentle finger under his chin and examine him like spectacles were placed over your gaze—forced to pile all of your raw attention to him. That’s when Satoru would crack from his sensuous facade and exhale shakily, comprehending the new feeling of a careful touch from a stunning, older woman. You could remember flashing him a gentle smile as you bid him an enigmatic farewell, leaving Satoru with a trembling bottom lip after the brush of his skin against yours. Back then, it was all playful teasing, you’d never register in your mind that he was really attracted to you.  You never acted on him either until he reached out to you when he was 21.

“..I don’t blame him.” Purring into the phone as you dried yourself off, catching your elegant features on the surface of your actual mirror with a slow blink of your nova eyes. Shoko made a sort of choking sound on the other end. “Huh? Are you kidding? He’d been pining after you since his junior year of highschool, why on earth would you not blame him for cheating on you?”

You sunk your tone into a softer, more somber one and let it into the air. 

“He’s still young, Shoko. It was a mistake on my end for letting it get this far.” 

 . ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

Getou Suguru was quiet in most of his years in highschool, cool, calm and collected—graced with a mellow personality that charmed quiet girls without him even really trying. Always the peacemaker. Always the one to be bestowed right next to the sun that was Gojo Satoru, his forever best friend. Always there to keep the epiphany of a real angel from falling down habits that could cost him his life. Always there to help him when he seemed the lowest. Always there to clean up after his messes. Always there to listen to Satoru rant about the woman with captivating eyes. 

So, how on earth was Suguru meant to clean up this mess? Only a god could tell.

Slender eyes so dark it would take millions of years for light to venture through them focused on the mess that was Satoru. Suguru sighs, his temples aching as he quietly takes a seat on a stray chair a good distance away from the young man that appeared to be intoxicated, but he knew better—he knew that Satoru was a true lightweight. Suguru listened with keen ears, slowly gazing upon the mess of chairs and shattered bottles of liquor that were likely untouched, rattled picture frames of broken memories piled into a type of center environment. Suguru reached his slender fingers for one knocked over picture frame, on the back, in neat calligraphy, wrote. “Shoko - 21 yrs old - Academy Graduation - 2011” 

Suguru flipped the frame over, as described, there stood their close friend dressed in a satin, elegant blue graduation gown with her cap out of sight, holding a diploma with a small, polite smile. However, right beside Shoko, was her. Suguru could see why his best friend was so wild over her despite the years between them, she was tall, taller than any other girl they’ve seen, mature features and a body so sinful it made someone as polite as Suguru blush if he looked at her for too long. Whatever pallet the gods have used to craft her was so pristine and pearlescent, it could likely make any renaissance painter jealous. It clicked for Suguru then, this was a printed image from a collection of pictures Shoko had sent the both of them just to show that she graduated, and Satoru had likely chosen this one out of all of them due to the simple fact that she was in it. This was during the time where Satoru had finally met her in person, and became so infatuated it started bothering Suguru. 

Suguru wondered if she was the last time Satoru could recognize true beauty.

Suguru could recognize the scent of sweet magnolias and clementine mixed with earthly perfume coming from articles of clothing so feminine he knew that they didn’t belong to Satoru, who had draped himself across a couch so expensive it hurt to try and think of the numbers—draped across it like he was experiencing death, holding those articles of clothing to his face as if they were the key to block out all the bad things of the world that threatened to catch him. Infinite hues of bright white light fractured the space in between the sting of his lengthy lashes, deepening the consistent hue of sapphire in his eyes. There was something always so beautiful and alluring about wanting to possess something that Satoru thought he’d never have, for him—it was her. 

“Well, you sure fucked up.” Suguru hummed, his words oddly sweet-sounding despite bringing a harsh reality down onto his best friend, his voice was nearly flowery and soft—like Suguru could grow gardens of adoration from his voice alone. Vanilla and cedarwood intertwined from him, giving off a scent that is so perfectly synonymous with who he is, his slender eyes lifted to meet with Satoru’s wide ones, nebulous flecks of amethyst braided into his irises. 

“..That doesn’t help.” Satoru speaks, his tone was low and careful, distant in a way that almost seemed too close. The more Suguru began to pull in the heavenly creation that was Satoru’s face, the more comfortable he became. A smile faded onto Suguru’s face. “She’s beautiful, successful—a total catch. What'cha switch her out for?” He can’t help but ask, the smile on his face of stunning Asian features, becomes pointed and untrue as he taunts his best friend with words that were more painful than any wound on earth. Satoru straightened up from where he had been previously curling away. “That—I didn’t mean to–fuck.” He stammers, making a complete fool of himself. He wasted no time in pausing, afraid he’d stop speaking all together if he did. “...I fucked up.” Satoru finally admits, quietly, a striking difference to his personality. 

The blood in Satoru’s body stiffened into a painful mass in his lungs, and it was difficult trying to breathe. It was difficult admitting the truth. 

Suguru’s eyes soaked in the sight of the shattered bottles of liquor and turned to look at his best friend next, raising a well-groomed brow as if to ask, ‘did you get drunk?’. At this Satoru shook his head, and without another word, he slumped against the couch once more, his face landing on a pile of her perfect clothes—drenched in her scent, one so unique he had attempted seeking it in any beauty store. Each trip was unsuccessful. Satoru didn’t need liquor to get drunk, all he needed was to drink her appearance like a glass of finely fermented wine and get tipsy off every sip. Suguru shook his head in minor disappointment, his gorgeous head of charcoal-like hair—black and straight like the night sea, following his movements. Softly, like prairie grass in the summer wind, giving contrast to his face, porcelain skin with delicate features.

“Nothing to do from here, Satoru. There’s no chance she’s going to take you back.”

[a/n]: heyyyy i had a thought of like what if satoru fell for an older woman and married her but then cheated on her for some fuck reason and then make it into something full of drama but then i got drunk and forgot the whole plot so ya make what you will with this . i might add more but idk yet so pls send requests or something

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

_ "Eri says hi, we're on our way to school now."

You hold the phone closer to your ear, smiling fondly as he speaks, and picturing them stroll their way there hand in hand while he carries her cute little school bag over his shoulder.

_ "Tell her I miss her." you reply immediately with warmth filling up your heart.

_ "Just her? What about her father?" and you can feel the smirk lacing his words.

_ "Of course I miss you Shouta, very much." you breathe out longingly, wishing you could see him right at this instance.

_ "Me too beautiful, I'll see you tonight." and with that, you both say your goodbyes and hang up your phones.

Hours later, and his voice still plays in your brain like a sweet melody, and that same wide smile still refuses to leave you, only a little bit more until you see him.

Time couldn't possibly go any slower when you're awaiting for the moment to be with him, and you rarely ever do on weekdays due to your conflicting schedules, but fortunately you were able to work something out for today and decided to have dinner together in the studio between his appointments, it's not much, but it's more than you can ask for..

_ "Hello." a delicate voice interrupts your thoughts, and your head immediately snaps towards its source.

_ "Hello ma'am, welcome." oh, she's beautiful.

The clicking of her expensive beige heels pierces the calm and resonates across the walls as she steps inside while uttering amusedly, "what a nice atmosphere you have here."

_ "Thank you ma'am, you are more than welcome to take a look around." you have never seen her before, so perhaps she's here for a visit?

She's truly gorgeous, and elegant too, and you're now wondering what could her story be.

_ "So I want to buy a bouquet but I'm not sure exactly what to get, everything here looks gorgeous." she's taking a tour of the shop while speaking, her eyes study the blooms carefully before shifting her gaze your way.

_ "I'm glad you like what you see," you offer her a genuine smile, "I can help you choose, you see each flower and each rose carries a different meaning, so if you have a message that's hard to convey, you can pick a flower that helps with that."

She blinks a few times while hearing you speak before breaking into laughter, "but isn't that a bit too much to ask of a measly plant?"

Your body tenses up as you did not expect to hear such words from someone who has willingly walked into your shop, but maybe she didn't mean to offend you.

_ "Not at all ma'am, if the person receiving the bouquet is someone who likes flowers, then your message wilI surely come across." your smile is now forced, and your palms are starting to sweat as you strive to remain collected.

_ "I never thought they liked them but maybe I was wrong," her eyes are casting a darkness that you cannot for the life of you decipher, "well then, which one says I'm sorry?" her attention is back to the colorful roses.

_ "White roses or white tulips are the perfect ones for that, they express sincere apologies and seeking forgiveness, offering them to someone signifies the desire to start anew." you gesture towards the flowers you're describing and watch as she approaches them slowly.

_ "Alright then, I'll have ten of each."

_ "Of course ma'am." you quickly run to the blossoms and start cutting them carefully, counting in your head so you wouldn't miscalculate the lady's order.

_ "So how long have you been running this business?"

Her question catch you off guard, and you almost miscount the white blooms in front of you, "oh, I've been here for almost a year," you turn her way for a second as you reply, before returning to the work at hand.

You walk back to your counter with twenty delicate whites in your arms, smiling again at the lady before starting to carefully organize them in a bouquet.

_ "What about you ma'am? Are you here visiting someone? Perhaps the lucky person who will receive these?" you try to soften the mood as you ask.

_ "Yeah, that's why I'm here, I need to clear things up with someone." her voice is monotone and for some reason it's making you a little uncomfortable.

_ "I'm sure everything will go well ma'am, this bouquet will be an ideal ice breaker." even with your unexplained uneasiness, you still give her a warm smile.

_ "You think so? You must have a lot of faith in your flowers then." she scoffs with a role of her eyes that you did not need to witness.

_ "Uhm well.. I do, and I hope I'm right." you have never felt this anxious with a customer before, but you have to remain calm and cheerful regardless.

_ "What a cute tattoo." she exclaims with a nod of her head.

_ "Oh, thank you, yeah it's really dear to me." somehow, for some reason, you've always found solace in your tattoo, and you're almost certain it's the thought of him that brings you comfort rather than the tattoo itself, in any case, it's working yet again.

The woman remains silent after that, and you can almost feel her piercing stare digging holes in your whole body.

_ "Here you go ma'am, it's wrapped and ready, I hope you like it." you carefully pick up the bouquet, mindful of the graceful blooms as you hand them to the woman in front of you.

_ "Thank you." she holds it in one arm and hands you her credit card with the other.

It's almost over, she's almost out of your shop and you're almost breathing easily again.

_ "Thank you for your purchase ma'am and have a nice day." you bow your head slightly while returning her card.

The annoyingly loud click of her heels is finally heading away as she walks towards the door, and you allow yourself to heave a sigh of relief.

_ "Oh by the way, say hi to Shouta for me." and that irked expression she had on since earlier, is now replaced with an amused one as she closes the door after herself.

… What?

Shouta.. Shouta.. , she called him Shouta, not Aizawa like most people do, why? Who is she exactly? How does she know him? Was her coming to your shop intentional?

You feel like a fool, she was obviously mocking you until the very end, and for some reason you know that it isn't over.

Shouta.. who is she to you? Is she a friend? A family member? A client?

Countless questions battle within your brain as you freeze in place for God knows how long..

To be continued..

[roguelov]

Thieves Will Steal Your Heart

Summary: A notorious thief, you set your eyes on the Egyptian Museum in London. It’ll be an easy job, in and out. However, someone puts a hitch in your plan: the sweet gift shop employee. You become enthralled with him, and he in turn. But, at the end of the day, you still have a job to do.

Word Count: ~5k

Reader: Gender Neutral

Warnings: Fluff

Note: Takes place before the events of Moon Knight, so Steven doesn’t know about Marc. And I might do a part 2 where the reader meets Marc, as Moon Knight

Ch. 2

High vaulted ceilings stretched into the heavens, stone architecture combined with a sleek modern flare, statues with faces of animals and bodies of humans loomed over the area guarding those who entered, glass cases arranging in various size protected the smallest most delicate handcrafted items, while paintings and scrolls centuries old covered the walls.

London’s Nation Art Gallery was impressive to say the least. It was part of the reason you picked this place. It had plenty to choose from, and each item enticed you - called out to you.

Which items would have the honor of being plucked from their confinements to have a home elsewhere?

After wandering around for an hour, a familiar feeling - a weight pressing into the back of your skull - made the hairs on your neck stand up. Someone was watching you. Which, honestly, shouldn’t be too surprising given the public space, and the roughly three dozen security cameras, and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling.

Strolling to a nearby statue, you craned your neck up following the angular structure; all the while, you peered out of the corner of your eyes.

There.

The gift shop employee.

Steven couldn’t peel his eye off of you. You were breathtaking.

The minute you walked in, it was as if Ra moved the sun for you. The harsh somewhat blindly fluorescent lights were now instead a warm dim orange hue that bathed over you, the dust particles in the air now shimmered like gold specs. Your head was held high as you casually strolled - floated - through the main area. No one offered you a single glance your way, almost as if you were a god walking in silence among men. Yet, he saw you.

And you stole his breath.

Steven would try to look away, however it wouldn’t last long. His eyes would dart around the gallery, hoping to find a distraction or to not be so conspicuous, but they always made their way back to you. You who aimlessly walked around surveying everything. You who had a certain twinkle in your eyes. You who had a smile gently tug on the corner of your lips.

So, as you stared up at the massive statue of Anubis, Steven stared at you unwaveringly.

Then a tour group passed in front of you, blocking you from Steven’s view. The crowd of tourists pointed at relics, took pictures, while a small portion looked positively bored. The tour guide, however, kept up the cheery, far too sweet, persona as she pointed at the Anubis statue rattling off interesting facts. The group paused only for a single second, for one breath, before moving on.

By then, you were gone.

Steven frowned. He leaned over the counter looking around. How in the world? You vanished. Like a drop of sand into the desert never to be seen again.

He sighed.

You left. Probably for good. His chance to talk with you was gone. At least that was what he told himself, but he never thought of actually approaching you. Not when he was on shift and with Donna lurking about. He simply hoped he had the courage to if the improbable opportunity rose, but that all passed into oblivion.

“Hey, do you happen to have the time?”

Steven, a little dejected, numbly glanced down at his watch. “About a quarter pass 2.” Slowly, his eyes trailed up to the random voice. His eyes widened. It was you.

You smiled softly at him. You pulled out your phone showing him a black screen, “Thanks, I forgot to charge this last night and I couldn’t find a clock.”

“Right,” he nodded, unsure what exactly to say now that you were here - actually right here in front of him. “I’d probably forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

You laughed through your nose still smiling at him. He easily returned the smile as he chuckled lightly to himself.

You slowly eyed him. From the tips of his dark curls that pointed in odd directions, down to his warm kind eyes and the bags underneath them, to his full lips, down his neck and broad shoulder, to his muscular build - although you noted he hunched, shrinking himself around others - then to his obscure patterned button up and tan jacket, down to his slacks. He was handsome, and absolutely adorable. Was it even possible for a man to be both? Yes, and he was directly in front of you.

As your eyes trailed back up, you spotted a clip-on name tag. “Steven,” you read.

He perked up. “Y-yes?”

“Sorry, I was just reading your name tag.” You pointed to the small brass plate on his breast pocket.

He followed your fingers, touching the cool metal as if he forgot it was there. “Right.”

He looked back at you, and you easily held his gaze. He wanted to ask your name, the name of the person who stole his thoughts and time, the question weighed on his tongue. His lips parted slightly, the words formed in his mouth.

“Well, I better be off.” You started walking away.

Steven’s eyes widened. Off?

He scrambled and followed after you behind the counter of course. “Wait. Wait!”

You paused, turning to face him with the same easy, captivating, smile on your lips. He pinched himself into a corner up against the wall and the edge of the counter. “I, uh, um …”

What was he doing?

“Yes, Steven?”

A warmth spread over his chest as his name rolled off your tongue. “Um, right, well, I - uh - wanted to ask what your name may be?”

“My name?”

“Yes! I, uh” - he cleared his throat - “I mean, yes.”

Your smile grew. Strolling over to him, you leaned in towards him. He instinctively moved back a bit. About a foot separated you from him. This close you could count his eyelashes, you could also spot a golden chain peeking out from underneath his collar, and you could smell his cologne.

“I’ll tell you another time.”

He blinked. “Wait, what?”

You winked at him then walked straight through the exit.

You should have known better, hell you did. Never leave a trace, never make an impression, and yet you couldn’t help it. Your typical surveillance to complete a job was two trips: one, to get a lay of the land and understand the security system, and two, pick your items and plan a route accordingly. Then a week later, you’d sneak in the middle of the night. Items taken under your slippery fingers, never to be seen again. Most cameras only ever caught a shadow or a blur. And if you happened to mess up, you always double checked the security cameras wiping any identifiable trace.

Calculated. Precise. In and out.

Never linger.

But, the gift shop keeper captured your being. He picked you out in a crowd, a task impossible to nearly everyone. He saw you. Continuously saw you. No matter if you slipped away, he still managed to find you a minute later.

He was a curious one. A timid man with a kind heart. His intellect on Egyptian culture and mythology was impressive to say the least. He always smiled as he told stories to curious children from behind his counter. He managed to soothe any person who approached him, any worries or tension melted in his presence.

You were no different. Your guard lowered around him. You wanted to know everything about him and how he ticked.

After your third visit, you should have given up on the job. But, you told yourself that the security was top notch and you had to ensure everything would run smoothly. It wasn’t solely for the soft spoken gift shop keeper.

After the fourth, you told yourself that you were rethinking certain items. The ones you initially picked were far too big, or ambitious, so you needed to go smaller. Small, multiple times that could sell fast on the black market.

After the seventh visit, you had no more excuses. You knew you were infatuated with Steven.

Every visit, you talked with him for hours on end. He excitedly retold Egyptian stories, as you leaned on the counter enthralled with his tales. He talked about a specific French poet, and even repeated some of her work. You didn’t understand a lick of what he was saying, but your heart fluttered nonetheless. He talked about his one finned goldfish named Gus, he talked, and talked, and -

“Why does it seem like I am the one always talking?” Steven asked one day during a slow period.

Weeks of popping up nearly every other day, he never questioned it until now. You shrugged playing it off, “Maybe because I like the sound of your voice.”

He blushed a bit. “Well, it seems I don’t know much about you. I still don’t even know your name, which is a bit odd, innit?”

“What?” You smirked, a devious one to hide the truth of it all. “Want to moan the right name at night?”

His eyes turned into saucers, the tip of his ears became a rich scarlet red as he began stuttering. “I - I, no, no. I just, I, oh my -“

You chuckled, “I’m sorry, I’m just teasing you. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He avoided eye contact and busied himself by tidying up the bin filled with sarcophagus keychains near the register. “It’s alright,” he muttered.

You shouldn’t have liked how bashful he got, or how utterly adorable he was. But, you did. Wholeheartedly. How did this random man manage to capture your undivided attention for days - weeks?

You really shouldn’t even be here.

The only thing reminding you of the job you set out was the fact Steven didn’t have your name. It was the one thing not tethering you to him. Because you knew the second you told him, you would want to stay. But, you were never one to settle down. Let alone, be able to have a normal life. You were a ghost, figuratively and literally. Your identity was wiped from databases all over the world.

Steven deserved more than a ghost to haunt his life.

“Maybe I want to keep up my mysterious aura,” you smiled, despite the depressing thought.

Steven puckered his lips unsure what to think or say.

“Or you know, you could always guess my name,” you suggested. “It could be a fun little game.”

A ghost who’s name was forgotten to all. And should stay that way.

He sighed, beginning to be fed up with it all. “I don’t want to guess it, I want to know it.” He looked over at you with sad, droopy eyes. Eyes that pierced through your heart. “I just don’t understand why you don’t tell me.”

You licked your lips and tried to play it off. “Maybe I’m not even real, just a figment of your imagination. Oooooo,” you wiggled your fingers.

“Oh, don’t say that,” he mumbled. “Please, don’t say that.”

“Sorry,” you quickly stumbled out. You should have known better. Poor Steven had confided in you about his sleepwalking and lapses in memory. You wanted to smack your forehead against the counter.

How could I be so stupid?

He sighed and rearranged other items in bins. “Is there something you can't tell me, love? I hope I’m not the reason or -“

Love.

Your ears perked up at the word, the small slip of his unconscious mind. Your heart instantly latched onto it. The word tossed around your head replaying it over and over. It was one of the sweetest melodies you ever heard.

How could this man render you in such a state?

“- sorry, I’m rambling a bit, aren’t I?” You snapped back to reality. Steven locked eyes with you, he saw the wide eyed expression steeled itself into a neutral look. “Oh, what is it?”

“Nothing, nothing, sorry, I, uh … it’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“… yeah.” You shifted your weight side to side.

“You don’t sound sure.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I am. I, uh, just remembered I have somewhere to be.”

This is too much, I can’t stay here any longer.

You spun on your heel and practically sprinted off.

“Hey! Wait, I …,” Steven sighed as you ran off.

Disheartened, he idly moved around other items. His mind raced with possible reasons about you and your odd behavior, none of which were particularly good. Lots of horrible thoughts which he had to push back. “It’s nothing, it’s … ugh,” he ran his fingers through his hair.

It couldn’t be him, right? Why did you evade everything about you, starting with a basic name ending with your past? You told him stories, but something always rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe because the stories were overarching with no real details, maybe because some were light quick stories from your childhood from years ago and nothing so recent. What was it?

“Oi, Stevie, where’d your little friend go?”

Steven didn’t have the energy to correct Donna. “Off, don’t know where.”

Donna nodded, smacking the gum between her teeth. “Good, can’t have you slacking off more than you already do.”

Steven said nothing. He turned around, straightening the plush replicas of gods and goddesses to the beetles and miniature pyramids.

“They sure do come around a lot,” Donna continued.

In all honesty, she wanted to gossip. And Steven, who was an enigma already, now had a shadow that popped up every now and then. Every employee in the museum was curious.

“Yeah,” Steven mumbled, not truly paying attention to his boss.

“So, they got a name?”

He flinched. Swallowing, he softly replied, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Donna blinked. “How the bloody hell do you not know their name? The two of you have been chattin’ almost every other day for weeks.”

“I know, I know,” he gritted his teeth.

“Maybe you just forgot it.”

“No,” he vehemently shook his head, “I wouldn’t have.”

“Like bloody hell you wouldn’t, you forget your own head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

His lips thinned.

“Maybe they’re a ghost.” She snorted, “A haunted museum? Should probably charge more.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” he frowned.

Donna cocked a brow at the sullen man. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Of course, they’re real. I’ve seen them, we all have.” She paused then tilted her head in a sudden realization. “Although I don’t think I ever saw their face. Always their back, huh, how odd. Never thought about it till now.”

Steven sighed, placing his head in his hands as he hunched over the counter. “This is bloody ridiculous, all of it.”

“Sure is.” The familiar chirp of a crowd resonated in the bare establishment. “Alright, figure out your love life on your own time.”

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

A sinking feeling filled the pit of Steven’s stomach. Would you return? Did you leave for good? Did he scare you off? Where did you go? Would you really leave without a proper goodbye?

He huffed. He wanted to tear his hair out, but a kid - a girl no older than eight years old - popped in front of his counter excitedly pointing at the stuffed scarab beetle. Steven smiled down at the girl. He grabbed the beetle for her, and before he could tell her the price, she slammed down a wad of cash. He chuckled and picked them up counting it all out. Putting it into the register, he returned some change and a receipt. The girl hardly cared. She smothered the beetle to her chest and hastily grabbed the change before darting over to her parents.

“So, how much for the hippo?”

Steven spun around looking at the collection of plush hippos in ceremonial garb, aka the goddess Taweret. “Oh, that’ll be -“ twisting back around the air was knocked out of his lungs “- you.”

You gestured to yourself, “Me.”

“You’re here,” he said in utter shock.

“Yeah, I am, but I can go if -“

“No! No, uh,” he cleared his throat, “uh, hi.”

You smiled softly, “Hey there, Steven.”

“Hi,” he repeated.

You chuckled under your breath.

He licked his lips. He didn’t think he would ever see you again, let alone hear your laugh. “So, uh, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, this and that.” You joked.

He nodded. How else was he supposed to respond?

Seeing the blank look in his eyes, you sighed. There was a tonal change as you leaned your forearms against the counter. “I was making preparations.”

“Preparations?”

“Yeah,” you fiddled with your hands, “I travel … a lot. And I have a trip coming up soon so I had to do a few things.”

“Travel? Well, isn’t that lovely,” he smiled brightly. He completely overlooked your entire sentence, only focusing on your first four words. “Sure wish I could. Being stuck behind a counter all day isn’t so exciting.”

You returned the smile. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“So, where have you been?”

I’m leaving.

“All over the world.”

His eyes widened. “Really? Oh, that’s insane. Have you been to Egypt?”

You nodded happy to indulge him. “Couple of times.”

“Oh, wow,” he breathed out. “I wish one day I could go, I really want to see the pyramids.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” He gushed.

“Maybe I‘ll take you there one day.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

But, what if I want to?

“Maybe I don’t, but if I could make your wish come true seems like a good cause.”

He dropped his head, his cheeks tinted a rosy hue. “You really don’t have to do that, love.”

Your knees weakened at that simple word.

“(Y/N).”

“Huh?” His head snapped up.

Your eyes connected with those gorgeous brown ones. A shade of the ground under your feet guiding you home, a shade that breathed new life, a shade that enveloped you in a warmth not felt before.

Your throat dried up. Swallowing down your nerves, you said, “That’s my name.”

His eyes widened.

Before he could say anything, you spilled out, “I’m leaving.”

A whirlwind of emotions violently stirred inside Steven. First your name, your honey sweet name he was ready to say, a name that filled his heart to the brim with joy; then those two words, those two words that slowly drained out all the joy.

“What?”

“I’m leaving,” you repeated. “I wasn't even supposed to stay this long, but I just couldn’t help it.”

You were the reason.

“Wait, hold on, you … you’re leaving? Like for good?”

“I wouldn’t say for good.”

“But you are leaving?”

“Yeah, it’s for my job. Hence, why I travel so much.”

“Oh.” His shoulders dropped. He licked his lips trying to find any words, but all he found was a growing emptiness. You were leaving. Gone. Gone from his life. Pushing aside his own feelings, he smiled at you. “Well, I hope you have fun, love. Maybe you can send me a postcard so I can stick on Gus’s tank -“

“Steven.” Don’t end it like this.

But, he wasn’t ready to hear it. He didn’t want to say goodbye. “Gus would probably like it, he can finally see the world too. Can’t really get anywhere with just one fin, ya know?”

“Steven.”

“Yeah, I bet he’d like that a lot. I mean so would I but -“

You grabbed the lapels of his jacket pulling him in. His words stuttered then fell off, now completely silent. But, you couldn’t do it. You hesitated. I shouldn’t be doing this. Your nose skimmed against his. Your eyes quickly glanced downward. They’re right there. Just do it.

Steven’s mind spiraled out of control. Your breath fanned on his lips. He parted them, almost readying himself. His eyes darted down. If he could just -

What am I doing?

Inhaling deeply, you exhaled, slowly and shakily, as you began to back away, “Sorry, I don’t know -“

“(Y/N)?”

Your heart threatened to leap out of your chest. Your name on his lips was sweeter and more heavenly than imaginable. “Y-yeah?”

His eyes locked with yours. Oh my. He looked at you as his salvation. He could drop to his knees and become a devout worshipper. And yet, you knew the truth. You were the devil in disguise; a temptation beckoning him to fall to depravity.

He dove. Falling with an elegant grace.

His lips crashed against yours.

Gentle, heart pounding, all consuming.

You closed your eyes. You white knuckled his jacket yanking him closer. He hummed. It was a sound you wanted to hear again and again. His hands hesitantly cupped your cheeks. Still unable to believe this was happening, that this was real. His hands were surprisingly calloused, the exciting roughness sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head then -

“Eh hem.”

Someone cleared their throat.

In a flash, you pulled away from Steven. You whipped around, turning your back to the person.

Steven blinked in a drunken haze. Did that really happen? His lips tingled, the feeling of your soft lips still lingered. Wait. Snapping to the present, he slowly turned to the person. It was Donna. He smiled sheepishly at her.

She raised an eyebrow. Her eyes jumped between Steven, with his wrinkled shirt and the love struck look in his eyes, then over to you, with your back to her refusing to make eye contact. She glanced back over at Steven with a blank stare. “Do get back to work, Stevie. Snog on your own time and not at work with guests around.”

“R-right, sorry, I -“

Donna raised her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Just don’t do it again.”

“Right, of course.”

The clack of her heels faded as she walked off.

You slowly looked back over at Steven. He instantly caught your eye. You rolled your lips trying to hide the growing smile. Steven was luckily the first to crack. He laughed. Loudly. Shaking his head, he brushed back his hair, “Oh, wow, that’s definitely a first.”

You snickered. “What an honor. And here I thought you kissed all your customers.”

Still laughing, he threw you a lopsided smile. “Only the special ones, love.”

Your cheeks warmed as you dropped your head. This dorky many made you, a hardened criminal, feel like a dopey love struck teenager. Shaking your head, you looked back up at him. “You sure are something, Steven.”

He tilted his head, his curled bounced against his forehead. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a great thing.”

He beamed at you.

Your smile shifted to one of sorrow. “I have to go now.”

His smile faltered.

You quickly leaned over and pecked his cheek. “I’ll see you around, Steven.”

“Yeah,” he whispered in minor defeat. “Until next time, (Y/N).”

You turned and began walking away with the prospect of possibly returning hanging in the air. He watched as you strolled off, slightly heartbroken but hopeful. You paused. Looking over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Steven. He awkwardly waved at you, and before he could stop himself, he shouted, “Laters gators.”

You chuckled, beaming at him as you waved goodbye then walked outside.

Yeah, I’ll definitely be back.

A few days passed without any real excitement for Steven. He thought of you almost every hour, which wasn’t good for him. He ached to see you. But, who knows how long it’ll be until he may see you again? You never specified how long this trip may be.

Steven hopped off the bus. Another day, another shift. He took a few steps only to stop in place. Police surrounded the museum, blocking anyone from entering. A miniature blockade, or more accurately a couple of metal fences hugged the stairs as a few police officers stood on guard duty. A few people stopped staring in awe. What had happened? While, one officer continuously denied a news van any information on the situation.

Oh, what was he about to get himself into?

He shuffled up to the nearest officer. “Um, pardon me?”

The police officer, a fresh faced woman, turned around. “Sorry, the museum is closed for the day.”

“Oh, no, I, uh, I work here. I work in the gift shop. Steven Grant? If that rings any bells.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, um, excuse me for a minute?”

She spun around speaking into her radio. After a few hushed words passed, she spun back around. She moved aside one of the fences, giving Steven just enough room to pass through. “Please, head up the stairs. Your boss is talking with Detective Douglas, he has a few questions for you.”

“Right.”

Steven hastily walked up the steps. What exactly happened? It probably isn’t so bad, right? Stepping through the doors, those thoughts were crushed. Police were scattered all about, nearly every corner of the museum as they combed every inch looking for clues. JD and three other officers watched video footage intensely.

Steven’s heart spiked out of fear.

“Oi, Stevie! Over here!”

His head snapped over to Donna standing in the corner with a somewhat intimidating man. Quickly, he scrambled over to them. His hands tightened around the straps of his satchel.

Standing in front of the odd pair, he nodded a ‘hello’. His eyes still actively watched all the officers talking and walking around. So many.

“What happened?” He asked, looking at them.

“We were robbed, Stevie.”

“Steven, it’s Steven,” he muttered under his breath. However, her words replayed in his head. Robbed? “Wait, robbed? Like actually robbed?”

“Yes.” Donna rolled her eyes.

“But, it was just from the gift shop, right?”

Who would steal genuine artifacts? How could they? That’s impossible.

Donna and the detective shook their head.

“No, or at least far as we know. We can’t rule it out yet but we know for a fact multiple artifacts have been stolen. From a handful of miniature statues, many hand carved jewelry, to a few scrolls with hieroglyphics.”

“Oh my god.” Steven breathed out.

Douglas nodded. “Yes, which is why for the sake of ruling out every employees I need to ask you a few questions for the moment.”

“Yes, yes of course.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Can you give me a run down of what you did yesterday?”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t much. I got up, came here for my shift, then went home.”

He nodded jotting it all down in a notepad.

“Did you see anyone suspicious yesterday at the museum or a few days prior?”

“No, sir.”

“Okay, and you said you went home last night, did you go anywhere else or do anything?”

“Uh, no, after work I watched a few shows, read for a bit, then went to bed.”

“Can anyone confirm this?”

“My goldfish, Gus?” He chuckled, only to see the deadpan expressions on the detective and his boss. He cleared his throat, “No, sir, but I do tend to sleepwalk so I have a few precautions so that doesn’t happen.”

“And?” Douglas cocked a brow at him.

“One of which is an ankle restraint,” he confessed meekly. “But I swear on my mum’s life I haven’t gone anywhere. Nothing was set off and I woke up in my bed as I should.”

The detective nodded, almost begrudgingly. Having no leads was slowly getting to him.

Donna spoke up, “Trust me I don’t think this bloke is capable of doing this.”

Steven didn’t know if he should be thankful or offended.

Douglas huffed, “Alright, if you can attest to his character it works for now.”

Now?

“Uh, I don’t know if it’ll help, but the inventory for the gift shop? Was that looked over yet?” Steven asked. He wanted to be helpful, he wanted to solve this odd mystery too.

“No, not yet.” Douglas answered.

Donna ushered Steven off, “Well, don’t dilly dally go and get it.”

Steven nodded and darted off.

Passing by officers, muttering ‘excuse me’s, he finally reached the storage room, behind the counter, where inventory and records were kept. In his haste, he forgot to ask Donna for the keys, but he still turned the knob to find it was unlocked. It was always locked. Brushing it off, he chalked it up to Donna and the police.

They probably did a quick look for clues.

Stepping inside, he flipped on the lights. Boxes and boxes filled with trinkets and toys were stacked precariously off to the left, a single table sat in the middle of the room, and filing cabinets off to the right. He walked over and pulled open a drawer.

But, something caught his eye. Not inside the drawer, but on top of the cabinet. At eye level, a plush replica of the goddess Taweret sat on top. His brows knitted together.

Why was that here?

Picking it up, a piece of folded paper flipped through the air and skidded across the ground. He blinked. He set the plushie on the table and carefully picked up the piece of paper. He brought it up to the light, twisting it and trying to spot anything odd. But, he didn’t. All he saw was scribbles, writing on the inside. Looking over his shoulder, no one came in. The hustling of police officers and their stampede of footwork resonated throughout the museum.

His heart feverishly pounded in his chest. He unfolded it once, then twice. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he turned the paper over.

Steven,

I still owe you a trip to Egypt.

Laters gators

There was no signature. But, he knew exactly who it was from: you. He let out a shaky breath. What - how … what does -

It clicked.

“Oh my god,” he whispered.

You did this, you robbed the museum.

He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. He read and reread the small simple note a dozen times. Nothing obvious pointed to you, which he supposed was the point. If anyone else found it, they would think it was a simple note, a promise. But, to him? To Steven, it was a confession.

It all made sense.

Of course, you didn’t talk about yourself. Of course, you never gave him details. Of course, of course, of course.

Part of him knew he should be mad and upset. He should feel betrayed, hurt, or something but he wasn’t. He wasn’t being used. You never asked about the museum itself, you always asked questions about him, about his life. Yes, there was also the morale of it all: stealing and such. A twinge of disappointment did sing in his heart.

Then the bigger issue rose. Was he now an accomplice?

Even if he showed the police, even if he gave a detailed description of your face, and told them your name, he knew deep in his bones they would never find you. You were a ghost anyway.

Staring down at the note, he smiled.

“Laters gators,” he replied to an empty room.

Tucking the note away, he grabbed the inventory list and walked off.

He would see you again. Maybe not next week, maybe not in a month, but he knew you would come back into his life with that charming smile.

[rebelliousstories]

Hearts of Sea Stone

Relationship: Sean Renard x Reader, Nick Burkhardt x Reader(Platonic)

Fandom: Grimm

Request: No

Warnings: Brief Strong Language, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 6,629

Main Masterlist: Here

Grimm Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Tidal Wave // Part 3: Lost to the Sea

Summary: Caught in a net of mysteries, Nick Burkhardt has to find what is the truth, and what is false.

“So I shall die," said the little mermaid, "and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“Are you certain that was his name?” Nick felt bad for shaking the startled woman but he needed to be sure that he had heard her correctly.

“Of course I am,” she defended, “I’d sooner die than forget his name.” She looked incensed at the hidden accusation in the detective’s tone.

“Alright. I believe you but you need to come with me, and trust me.” And with that, the unlikely duo were off to go inside the precinct. Uniformed officers milled about, but not as many as there were during the day when he was usually here.

Nick could feel his breathing pick up but he did not know why. Why was he nervous about having this Tödlicheslied inside the office where his captain with the same name and same face as her supposedly dead lover might be? There was a light on in his captain’s office and felt a bit conflicted. Does he rip the bandaid off, or is there a way he can ease her into this?

“Nick?” She called softly, drawing him back into the present. He noticed that they had stopped in the threshold of the specific room where his desk was located. Letting out a sharp breath from his lips, the detective nodded and tried to get himself back in the game.

“Sorry. Um, my desk is just over here.” He stole a glance to the private office, and saw the blinds were open. Burkhardt set the woman in Hank’s chair with her back facing the captain’s line of sight and sat down in his own chair. Clicking his computer awake, Nick tried hard to keep his eyes on the screen and on the woman.

“So what is the name of the hotel you’re in?” His question sounded strained, but there was no way for his to stop it.

“It’s the Rose Red hotel on fifth and second.” She replied sweetly and softly, choosing not to draw attention to his tone.

“Okay, got their information. Now this book store. What’s the name?” Trying to wrack her brain for an answer, Nick casts his eyes over to the captain’s office. It did not appear that he noticed them in this late yet.

“I think it was called ‘Book Nook.’ I’m pretty sure that’s what it was called.” She had calmed down since she first met the Grimm, but being questioned about her whereabouts was enough to make her nervous again. Her hands began to fiddle with her necklaces yet again which drew the man’s attention to them once more.

“Okay. Do you mind if I have that for a moment,” his hand pointed to hers, “the gold one at least.” A shaky breath and a look of panic was all he got in return. Nick held up his hands in a, hopefully, non-threatening manner towards the woman.

“I just want to ask my captain if he knows the man in that photo. He’s been here longer, and may recognize him. Or maybe he remembers seeing a John Doe that looks like him. Please, it’ll be for just a moment.” He watched her battle herself once more and fiddle with the necklaces even more. It took another minute before her hands reached behind her head and unclamped the gold necklace that hung around her throat. Delicately, it was placed in Nick’s awaiting hand, who closed his fingers around it softly.

“Thank you. I’ll be right back.” Standing, he sent the woman another reassuring smile and watched her fiddle with the lessened weight around her neck before walking over to his captain’s office. Three knocks later and a call for him to enter was heard. Nick kept the locket and chain hidden from view at first, wanting to see how this was going to play out.

“Captain.” The detective called, watching him intensely.

“Nick,” a surprised statement came, “I thought you had gone home already.” Sean dropped his pen on his desk and turned his attention to the Grimm before him.

“I wanted to ask you something, but it might be kind of personal.” He started, unsure of how he was going to play this out even this far into it. Renard’s face scrunched in confusion before signaling the younger man to continue. But Nick could only get out the name the young lady at his desk had provided him. Sean’s face drop, and felt his heart grow icy as it fell into his stomach.

“How do you know that name?” He questioned, standing up slowly and maintaining eye contact with Burkhardt.

“So you know her?” He sent back, keeping his tone level and hands closed.

“Nick, I will ask you once more. How do you know that name?” Renard’s voice turned deadly.

“I need to know how you knew her first. Tell me that, and I’ll tell you how I know.” Nick spoke determined. Sean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face as he thought about what to say next. The captain motioned to the chairs in front of him and his detective followed the movement.

“I was very young, keep that in mind.” He sighed yet again. “The only time I’ve ever truly been in love was with… her.”

“When I moved to Portland, I was lost for a bit. Had no idea what I was going to do exactly and would often find myself at the edge of the Willamette river just thinking.” Sean’s eyes glazed over as he was sucked into his memories.

“One night, I found a woman that was unlike anything I had seen. I heard myths of Tödlicheslied, but never thought I would see one in person. She was scared, rightly so. They don’t go near humanity except to feed. Eventually she was able to calm down enough that she could become less noticeable.” Nick felt his own hands trace over the locket in his hands.

“We tried to find her family, but it looked like they had abandoned her. Didn’t stop us from trying every full moon after that first month though. I helped her after she accidentally charmed a young man on the street into becoming obsessed with her. It was then I realized I needed to keep her safe, from anything. There are certain tonics that minimize the effect her voice had. A specific cream to keep her skin from drying out in between swims.” Renard leaned back in his chair and acquired a soft small on his face.

“I guess, over time, we fell in love. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. There was a time right after I joined the force, that she waited up for me until 6:30 in the morning the following day. She went to bed at eight, but she waited up because I hadn’t checked in and was so worried that something had happened to me that she left crystals all over our coffee table.” This simple confession piqued Nick’s interest.

“Crystals?” He asked.

“Tödlicheslieden cry crystals on land. It has to do with the oxygen mixing with the chemical make up of the solution. We tried to figure it out when she was still here. But they cry crystals. Anyways,” the captain took a deep breath, “her family did eventually find her. About a year later. There message was clear: she was to return to the sea and her clan, or they would make her do so. They didn’t take kindly to her asking for time to think about her answer.” Another deep breath. Sean’s hand went to his neck, like there was something that was supposed to be there for him to mess with.

“That night, we were on the banks of the Willamette, trying to think about what our plan was. That’s when they jumped us. A couple of her cousins grabbed her and took her below the surface. Her father and brothers, however, stayed on land just long enough to ‘knock some sense into me.’ Their words, not mine. I don’t quite remember what happened after that, they hit me pretty good. Next thing I knew, I was watching an ambulance pull up on my location, and someone was asking my name.” Sean kept rubbing his hand just under the collar of his neck while he spoke.

“What happened to the woman?” Nick questioned softly, trying to keep from doing anything brash or sudden.

“I never knew,” Renard shook his head, “I tried to look out for a sign that she was coming back but nothing. I think at some point I just accepted that she had either truly forgotten me, or had died trying to get back to me. Whichever, I can only hope that she’s happier now.”

“Your hand keeps going to your collar. Is there something that’s supposed to be there?” The captain’s face hardened, as if he was trying to keep himself from becoming too emotional and remain objective. Like this was another investigation.

“We had matching lockets. I got them for us around the one year mark. Her’s was silver, mine was gold. She always looked better in silver than she did in gold.” His eyes glazed over once more, and his voice took on a soft, dream-like quality.

“A necklace like this?” Only then did Burkhardt place the golden chain and locket on his captain’s desk and watched.

Watched for a sign of emotion, of some sort of humanity in the man. It took a minute, but as Sean Renard came out of his thoughts to observe the object on his desk. A breath was punched out from the chest of the older man as he gingerly picked up the chain. He gasped in disbelief and tried to find the words to voice his thoughts, but none came to mind. In all the languages he knew or was fluent in, there were no words to describe the feeling of seeing the necklace in almost twenty years.

“Where did you find this?” Sean choked out, feeling his throat close.

“I need to know something first. Would she ever commit murder?” A humorless chuckle puffed out from the captain’s lungs.

“No. Never. When she lived with me, she went completely vegetarian, and was super careful about using her voice. Especially if she didn’t have the dampening tonic.” Both sets eyes stayed locked on the flash of gold.

“Okay. Is it possible that she could have been living her the entire time, trying to find you and never did?” Sean blinked, and leveled Nick with a look he had never seen before.

“Excuse me?” The captain growled, but the detective was unfazed.

“Captain, I’m pretty sure that I found her.” Renard said nothing. Not a word. But instead, he turned back to the locket and clicked it open. Photos he never thought he would see again, stared up at him. Black and white images of him happy that almost felt like a lifetime ago.

“Where is she?” Sean was sure that he was going to cry if he did not see the woman after all this.

“She’s out at my desk,” Renard stood with a fury, “wait!” Nick shouted at the taller man.

“Just, be careful. I’m still checking out her alibi for the drownings.”

“There is no way that she could have done this. Now if you will excuse me.” With that, Sean left the office in a blaze. The gold necklace in his hand felt like lead the closer he got to the woman who was still sat in Hank’s chair, beside Nick’s desk. The Grimm watched from the threshold of the office as the scene unfurled.

Calculated steps moved the man closer and closer to her. The same woman he had not seen in almost two decades. Her hair was shorter than it was back then. But her skin was no less as luminous, even underneath the precinct lights. Sean felt his hands begin to clam, and his throat tighten even more than before. There was no less than five feet between the pair, and yet, he made no move to call for her. As if he did, she would be gone just like how she disappeared every time from his dreams. Nick watched with keen eyes, and cleared his throat loud enough to catch attention. Renard turned to face his subordinate, and was drawn away when a gasp was heard from behind his head now.

Turning back, Sean watched tears gather in her eyes. He felt his own breath get pulled from his chest, and it appeared that she was suffering from the same breathlessness. Before he realized it, he was whispering her name, hoping that she was truly there.

“Sean? Is that really you?” Her whimper made the man’s heart burst in his chest.

“Yes. It’s me.” He whispered back at her. In all of about three seconds, the woman had thrown herself into his chest, and sighed as his arms wrapped tightly around her.

“You’re alive! I can’t believe you’re alive.” The words were slightly muffled into Sean’s chest, but neither one could find it in their hearts to care too much.

“Oui, mon siréne. I’m alive. And you’re here, on land.” One hand stayed on her back, keeping her pressed as closely as she possibly could. While the other one, traveled to pet the top of her head, and lay a kiss in the wake of his hand.

“Of course I am. I tried so hard to find you. Couldn’t exactly do that from the water now could I?” She teased, and was rewarded with another squeeze and kiss to her head. Pushing her lover away, the naiad looked at him in his eyes once more.

“I don’t understand though,” she began feeling her lashes become wet with unshed tears, “I thought you had died? They gave me your-” she cut her own words off. The necklace was resting against her head, still captured in Sean’s hand.

“No. No. Do you honestly think that it will only take a beating to kill me? Come now, mon siréne.” The hand on her head moved to cradle her face. Shockingly cool metal graced her cheeks from where the necklace was tanged in his fingers.

“I tried so hard to come back. But when I did I was… captured. It’s the only reason I don’t have my family trying to get to me now.” Her whispers were meant only for Sean, and this admission made his skin prickle.

“Captured? By who? I need the name.” He stated, ripe with a protective and possessive energy.

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.” She reassured him.

“Here.” Her hands reached up and took the gold chain from his fingers. She took apart the clasp mechanism and placed it around the man’s throat before securing it once more. The weight was something Sean had almost forgotten about, but now that it was back, he felt like there was no time that had passed since they tore it from his neck.

“I hate to break up the reunion,” it was only then that the couple realized that Nick was still there amongst them. “But, you can go back if you would like. I’ll call if I have any updates or any more questions.”

“Captain, you may want to take the night off.” He offered gently, watching Sean and his lady take in his words.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move. I’ll return shortly.” Renard all but ran back to his office to close down for the night.

“How did you know?” She questioned softly to the Grimm before her. He turned his head from his captain to the woman and acquired a soft smile.

“The picture frame in your dressing room. I realize that the photo is almost twenty years old, but it looked too similar to Sean not to be him. Plus, when you told me his name, I had more conformation.” Nick explained, watching as she accepted the explanation. Eventually, her tears became too great for her to keep them in, and fat droplets rolled down her face. As the water ran off her face, crystals seemed to form as if by magic mid way through the air. She tried to catch them, but was blinded by more crystals, leaving Nick to help catch them instead.

“Are you okay?” Sean’s voice rang out. His tone was concerned, as he ran back over and help to catch the crystals as well. A tissue appeared in his hand and he began to dab away the water from her face.

“I’m sorry for that. Yes, I’m okay. Just been an emotional night I guess.” She held her hands out, and Nick followed his captain’s lead as he passed back the stones. Her hands pulled a bag from her coat pocket, and the crystals disappeared from view.

“Do you always keep those stones with you?” The young Grimm asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “these used to be used for potency in different kinds of spells, and potions. If anyone got a hold of them, who knows what they could be used for.” While she dismissed the words, Nick certainly did not.

“Is it possible that someone did get a hold of these without your knowledge?” He asked, watching the young woman think hard about her answer.

“If someone did, it would have to be someone on my staff. Very few people have access to my dressing room where I keep them for that reason.” Sean wrapped his arm around his lady, and kept his eyes on her.

“Well, you two head home. I’ll let you know what I find out.” He did not need another invitation; Renard bid the detective goodnight and walked the young lady out of the precinct. She giggled as he nearly tripped over himself getting her over to the car.

The ride to Sean’s condo was spent in silence. Not because they could not find the words, but rather there were simply too many words that needed to pass between them. With his left hand on the steering wheel, and his right hand on her thigh, Sean’s self-control was tested to an unbelievable level as he tried not to speed. Meanwhile, she had her hands both on his hand and thought about how close they had been all this time, yet neither one knew it.

Parking, and walking through the front door passed in a blur. Neither one could believe that they were actually with the other as they walked up the stairs to the condo. Opening the door, Sean allowed her a moment to look around before he tugged her back to him. He pushed her against the door with a gentle shove, and slotted their bodies together as he captured her lips in his. Her hands came up to scratch through his short hair, and found purchase on the broad shoulders she once knew so very well.

There were so many thoughts running around both of their heads. Years that they have lost together and now being able to spend them together. They could never recover all those years alone, but they could certainly make up for it now. She decided to deepen their kiss, allowing her tongue to run over the seam of his lips. Sean returned in kind by picking her up and walking towards his bedroom. He did not need to be able to see where he was going, only needed to know that his siren was back in his arms.

His siren. A title she had never lost, yet it seemed like a distant memory of holding it. Renard tossed her on the bed where she landed with a giggle, but he did not waste any time in climbing back on top of her. Reconnecting their lips, he allowed his hands to trace over the familiar curves and markings that he knew so well. Muscle memory trailed his hand down the left side of her neck, where she jerked away as if she had been burned. A look of panic mauled her features, causing Sean to lean away just enough to give her some space.

“Siréne? What happened? What did I do?” He asked, quickly trying to find an answer. That used to be her favorite spot for him to caress as it caused full body shocks to course through her.

“No, darling. You did nothing. It’s just I…” her sentence trailed off as she stared into space. Renard leaned back on his haunches fully and grasped her hands to pull her up.

“Would you like to get ready for bed? You can tell me if you would like.” Sean’s offer came. She nodded, unable to form words right at that moment. He slipped off the bed and knelt down to where her feet rested. Gently, as if she was made of porcelain, he undid the buckles holding her shoes on and pressed a soft kiss to her calves when he was done.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything proper to take off your makeup.” He commented as he pulled her to the bathroom. She just shrugged in acceptance and allowed her lover to continue. Sean lathered up his face wash, and rubbed her face in gentle, circular motions. It would not be the best, but it would have to do until he could get her something’s to leave over there. Wetting a cotton ball, he took just a tad bit of cleanser and rubbed it over her eyes, dissolving and wiping away her makeup.

“When I was captured,” she finally spoke after he wiped away the cleanser, “I was captured by a Grimm.” Her admittance stopped Renard from applying the toner to the cotton pad. He turned to her in a look of concern and anger.

“After I escaped the clan, I came upon the Willamette once more and tried to change back. But I got caught in a net. When I was pulled from the water, a Grimm stared me down. He wanted to study me, study my scales, crystals. Anything, since there isn’t much known about Tödlicheslied in the Grimm or wesen world.” Soft cotton swiped across her skin, allowing the toner to sink in. Sean used the time it was going to take her skincare to sink in to do his at the sink. Always keeping an ear out for her soft words.

“He kept me in my woge state with drugs. It wasn’t fun,” Renard felt his blood boil, “one of the things he did was take my scales.” She pulled down the top of her dress enough that he could see a scar in the crook where her shoulder met her neck. Allowing herself to partially woge out, Sean saw the dull patch where the scar was amongst all of her glittering scales that had yet to breech the surface.

“He left the locks undone one night, so I tried to run,” her dress was pulled back in place as Sean placed the moisturizer on her face and neck. “I didn’t get far, but I was able to scratch his pretty good since I had yet to come out of that state. He drowned in the Willamette, unable to fight back because of his blood loss. I don’t know if they ever found his body though. Anything and everything he had on me, I destroyed. I couldn’t risk being found out, by Grimm or by wesen.” Sean kept quiet while he placed eye cream on both of them.

“When my clan caught up to me again, they disowned me. According to them, I allowed myself to be captured and studied. I allowed that man to take my scales. After that, they left me alone. It’s been difficult to even look at that spot some days, let alone have anyone else touch it.” The man pressed a kiss to her forhead, but still said nothing as he went to his closet to fetch something for them both to wear. While he was away, she turned back to the mirror and felt ashamed at the dull patch on her body. Forcing herself to return to her human state, she brushed her fingers barely over the scar.

“I don’t much mind.” Sean’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. Turning, she saw he held two sets of silk pajamas in his hands. Setting them down on the counter around the sink, his hands gently maneuvered her to stare at herself in the mirror. Strong yet soft hands slid the jacket from her shoulders, and the zipper from her dress. Curling calloused hands around her shoulder, Renard took things very slow, and allowed for her to stop him at any point.

But she did not. She just allowed him to take care of her, like he used to do all those years ago. It felt nice to have him here again, making sure she was taken care of. She had not felt like this in years, it almost felt foreign. Spending so long on her own, could she allow him to fall back into their routine they had established years ago? He placed his hands on her now exposed waist, and dropped his head onto the top of her shoulder. His head moved up and down in a comforting manner, and he trailed his nose close to the scar. Her breath hitched in her throat, feeling him so close to a spot she tried to forget about.

Sean nosed closer and closer to that spot, but kept a keen watch on her body language. While she was tense, she had not pushed him away as he narrowed in on the scar. The second he laid a gentle kiss on it, she felt like collapsing. He pressed yet another kiss, this one more prevalent in pressure, and her eyes shed crystallized tears. They landed in the sink, but neither on of them cared too much for where they ended up.

“It’s alright, mon siréne. This doesn’t make me love you any less. You had no choice,” his words brought more tears to her eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

Oh. That made her heart and head hurt. She did not realize how much she needed to hear those words come from him until just then. Another tissue was used to catch her tears, but she just stood there. Her body refused to move on its own accord, which was probably just the overwhelming emotions she had felt this evening.

Sean reached around and helped to work his lover into his pajamas. A sky blue with navy trim adorned her body, and looked so adorably oversized. His own black and gold set waited as he made sure she was taken care of first. Leading her back into the bedroom, he tucked her underneath his silk sheets and pressed a kiss to her head.

“I’ll be right back. Stay there.” She nodded, and watched him disappear back into the bathroom. It was truly only a moment before Sean returned to his lover who was still turned towards where he had left to. Crawling underneath the covers, Renard opened his arms and allowed the woman to find her place in them. She placed her head on his chest and felt the beating heart reassure her underneath her cheek. It was just like that, the couple drifted off to sleep. Hoping that they would not wake from this most amazing dream they had.

~

A shrill ringing sound awoke the man early in the morning. Blindly reaching over with one arm, he tried to find the source and got rid of it. His right arm was caught around his lover. However, the shrill sound started once more prompting him to react to the sound of his phone going off.

“Renard.” He answered unenthusiastically. The woman had yet to so much as stir though.

“Captain, it’s Burkhardt. We’ve got another body. Drowned in the Willamette with an aquamarine stone in hand.” His attention was solely focused on the phone now. Sean sat up and tried to keep the lady asleep but it did not help. She was awake the second he moved, and rested her head back on his; this time it rested on his lap.

“I’ll be right in. See you in thirty.” Without giving his detective a chance to respond, he hung up his phone and breathed out a deep sigh.

“Duty calls?” Her voice drifted into his thoughts from below him. Renard gazed down at her, and smiled as she cuddled into his thigh. His hand pet through her head as he nodded.

“Unfortunately. But, I’ll make you some breakfast and drop you off wherever you need to be before going in.” Yet again, they fell into the same routine they had years ago like no time had passed. She dressed in her outfit from last night, but allowed Sean to place her shoes back on. It was the one thing that he always insisted that she let him do when it came to dressing. As she washed her face, Renard went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, a cup of tea, and begin breakfast. But looking at the clock on his counter, he cursed lightly. Looking around the cupboards, he found some muffins that had been given to him by a very gracious neighbor a couple of days ago.

Fresh faced, and dressed, Sean felt his breath get taken out from his body once more. It reminded him of when they were young, and she would stay at home and wait for him to get back.

“We don’t have the time to make breakfast, but I do have your tea. We have to go though, I’m afraid.” He handed her a thermos, placed his coffee in another one, and grabbed a couple of muffins from the box.

The couple made their way out the door and down the stairs of the condo. Hand in hand, down to the car that awaited them in the garage. Sean opened her door, and let her get in and secured first, before rounding and doing the same for himself.

“Where do you need to be?” The man started the car and began to drive away from his home.

“There’s a club on the corner of fifth and second that I’m preforming at. There’s a hotel near that I’m staying at. I’ll need to double check my dressing room and then I’ll be going to my hotel.” Sean nodded, and draped his hand over to rest on her thigh. Lacing their hands together, she took a sip from the warm beverage container in hand and made a pleasant hum.

“This is my favorite tea. You still have some?” She questioned happily, taking another sip. Renard chuckled and squeezed her thigh.

“Of course I remembered. Whenever I am upset, I would make a cup of that and be transported back. It has never failed me in all these years.” He spared a glance before returning to the road, and loved the look she had. All too soon, the drive was over as they pulled over to the club where she was preforming.

“Would you like me to wait? I can drop you off at your hotel afterwards.” Sean offered, but she shook her head.

“I’ll be alright. It’s just right across the road and you have to get to work. I appreciate it though.” Her seatbelt was unbuckled, and she turned in her seat to face the man. Cradling his face in her hands, she laid a loving kiss on his lips, to which he returned. But before it could become anything more, she pulled away, causing Sean to groan.

“Later.” She giggled, and slipped out of the car and back into the club. The police captain strangely felt like calling out sick for work, but thought against it. He knew where she was staying. He would be getting her again. Sean watched her until he knew that she had made it safely inside before speeding off towards the crime scene that he was called in on.

~

“Our victim is a Jessie Batey. He was an accountant for a local charity organization. Same circumstances as before.” Nick explained, watching his captain step out onto the crime scene.

“Do we know how any of these victims were connected?” Sean inquired, watching the commotion around the scene.

“They all went to a Sirena show the night before their death.” Nick stated, and watched as Renard whipped his head around.

“Now we’ve already cleared her. But someone is using her shows as a hunting ground. We need to know why.” The detective explained as he watched the body closely.

“Yeah. We do. Let’s find it out and fast.” Sean walked back to the edge of the water to look closer over the scene, hoping to find something that he could use, but came up short. He did not know what he was missing, but it was really starting to bug him.

~

Stepping inside the club with her spare key, she knew that no one would be around quite yet. It was still pretty early in the day. Everything was still packed away from the night before, and her door appeared to her shortly. However when she tried the door, it was unlocked. That greatly confused her. She was sure that she had locked it last night when she left with the detective and blutbad.

Continuing inside, she took a quick surveillance of her room and rushed inside. Someone took the crystals from the bowl. No one on her staff for the staff here that would have a key to this place would do this. So why were they gone? Crouching, she looked around, hoping that she had just spilled them, but to no such avail.

There was a slight shift of fabric she heard that caught her attention. Her head shot up and her body followed as she watched a young man, no older than twenty-five stepped out from her dressing corner.

“Hello Sirena. I’ve been waiting for you.” He breathed out, apparently taken aback from being this close to the naiad. She was confused and said nothing out of shock.

“Oh,” he suddenly remembered something, “thank you for the gifts. I greatly appreciate it.” His hands dug around his pockets, and procured a small baggie that held the missing crystals in them.

“You stole my crystals?” Before she could have constructed a better response, the worlds stumbled out.

“No,” his face scrunched up, “I didn’t steal anything. You left them for me. You left them out so that I would know. It’s okay. I get it now.” He stepped closer to the young lady, but for every step he took forward, she took one back.

“I tried to get your attention before but it didn’t seem to be getting through. I thought certainly this latest attempt would get to you but that didn’t seem to do the trick.” With her back against the vanity table, she had very few places that she could go. Not even the door to the room was close enough that she could close the distance in time.

“You- you’re the one committing those murders? Why? I have never and will never want that for anyone to do on my behalf.” Her voice was raising in panic.

“But you would have never noticed me, or acknowledged our connection otherwise.” With no where to turn, she just had to accept him getting closer. Unlike with Sean, his touch made her cringe and turn away. This angered the man, which is when he grabbed her arms roughly and shook her.

“Why do you continue to deny me? I love you! I did this for you! And you act like you never tempted me, never showed me you loved me!” He screamed and yelled at her. Her cringing infuriated him further.

“You’re lucky we can’t do this yet. The moon will be full tonight, and then we can be together forever.” She could feel her heart beat out of her chest, and the fear freeze her blood. What he did not know, was that there was a phone on in her pocket. The volume was kept low so as to not alert him, but that was all she needed. She just needed someone to hear what she was hearing.

~

Sitting at his desk, with his head bowed over paper work, Sean tried to keep his mind on the cases that he had. All the press that these drownings were getting, and the media feeling to name him “The Willamette Crystal Drowner” did not help either. Hearing the shrill ring of his phone, he answered it when he saw her name pop up. He did not even know when she put her name in his phone, probably when he was getting ready for the day, but he was glad she did.

“Bonjour, Mon siréne. How are you?” Yet, there was no answer. The sound of rustling was all that greeted him.

“Siréne? Are you there?” He called yet again but no response. Sean was about to hang up and chalk it up to an accidental dial when he heard it.

“Oh, thank you for the gifts. I greatly appreciate it.” A man’s voice was heard faintly on the other end of the line.

“Darling?” But his call went unanswered.

“You stole my crystals?” Renard felt his breath speed up, but tried to calm himself down.

The more he listened, the angrier Sean got. Hearing the fear in his lover’s voice sent him into a fury that was kept underneath his calm and collected exterior. Picking up the landline in his office, he phoned the technical department.

“I need a location on a number, and I need it now.” He stated, in no mood to play any sort of games. Rattling off the number that the woman was calling him from, Sean felt the anxiety flow through him as he had to wait.

“It’s at a club on the corner of fifth and second, sir.” Mumbling a quick thank you, Renard hung up on the landline and grabbed his coat from his seat. Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, he tried to listen and make sure that she was okay.

“You’ve were hanging around that police captain last night and today. Why?” The masculine voice questioned. Storming out of the office, he barely caught that Nick and Hank were saying something to him before he left.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She whimpered. Sean heard her throat tightening and hoped that he was not going to be too late.

“Yes! Yes, you do.” The man shouted. There was a clash of something being disturbed, and she let out a yelp.

“No matter. I’ll just make sure that he won’t bother us again.” Renard’s phone was pressed so hard into his cheek that he was afraid he was going to break it.

“Please, please don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him.” Her begs made the man that was with her chuckle.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not stupid enough to take out a police captain. However, I will guarantee that he won’t have you.” A sharp yell from her was broken by a thud, and then, silence. It was too quiet. Sean screamed her name, but received no reply. Footsteps got closer to the phone, some more rustling, and he heard his voice clearly.

“If you know what is good for her, you won’t contact her again captain Renard.”

The line went dead.

[look-at-the-soul]

Zablife Story Share - Chapter 7

Series master list

Previos part by @dreamlandcreations

Next part by @flysafepapi

A/N: I wanted to explore their past, how they met, you’ll find most of the story is in italics, in a flashback.

Also, the piano part was inspired by this Adele’s version if you want to read while listening to the song 🥰 Happy reading! I hope you enjoy xx

He knew you like nobody else did, from the fragrance you sprayed on your hair, to the way you liked to sleep curled on your side, with your head resting on his shoulder, he knew every curve of your body, and the way you liked your tea.

Having you in his arms was the most natural thing in the world. You belonged right there and he would do anything in his power to keep it that way.

Looking outside the window, it was still dark, but he couldn’t go back to sleep, he didn't want to miss a second of you sleeping peacefully next to him, he wanted to make it up for the nights that you were gone.

Breathing in your scent, Tommy’s mind went back in time to the moment he laid his eyes on you.

“Mr. Shelby it's good to see you back, I’ll get you the usual.” The waiter offered and rushed to the bar to get his drink. The Shelby name was well known at the club by now, even though he visited the place from time to time.

As he was about to lit the cigarette hanging from his mouth, the lights went down and a soft melody of the piano filled the entire club.

Looking around, he found a woman dressed in a black, backless dress with her hair pinned up in an elegant french chignon playing the piano.

In awe of the way her hands moved over the keyboard, he realized the entire place was in silence, his eyes on her back while the soft tune filled the deepest holes in his heart.

No lyric or another instrument was needed.

This woman had his undivided attention, as her hands moved around.

This was pure magic at the tip of her fingers.

“Who is she?” He whispered the waiter, his eyes never leaving her.

“Miss Adler. She plays the piano every night at the same time.”

Handling him a bunch of money, Tommy asked the man something else. “Get me to backstage after she finishes.”

“I’m afraid it won’t be possible Mr. Shelby, she’s under the protection of Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie would never allow his woman to be exposed like this, he thought. “You missed your chance.” He took back the money he previously offered and getting up, he walked around, towards the piano, willing to do anything to get close to her.

Leaning against a column, Tommy had his eyes fixed on her, delicate features decorated her face, a tempting red color on her lips, slightly parted as her eyes found his.

And the rest of the room disappeared. Hell, even the rest of the world disappeared in that moment.

Taking a single rose from the base next to him, Tommy walked over to the Grand Piano, with his deep gaze fixed on her, leaving the rose over the lid for her and walking away without a word.

Four men were waiting for him already, discretely a couple of steps away, so she really was protected.

“There’s no need gentlemen, I know the way out.”

Tommy enjoyed to play with fire, he just happened to choose a rare flame this time.

Asking around no one knew a single thing about the mysterious pianist of the club.

That’s why he decided he would find out for himself.

***

After finding him staring at you before you even walked to the piano the second night, you politely asked your bodyguards to allow him walk over. This never happened, no one would lay their eyes on you for more than five seconds. But this man... he made you feel something you’ve never felt before.

During five nights that man kept the same routine; watching you intensely, and then before you could finish your piece, he would stand up, take a rose from the vase and place it in front of you.

Visiting the club the first night could be by chance, coming back every night after that and explicitly asking for the table in front of the piano, wasn’t.

You couldn’t help but wonder about him.

Would he be back that night?

There was only one way to find out...

Looking through the long curtains, your eyes wandered around the big room; beautiful chandeliers catching the light, smiley unknown faces, champagne flowing, the jazz music filling the happy atmosphere, while the excitement mixed with the nerves danced in your belly.

About to give up, you blinked in disappointment, only to take one more look around and finally catch that mysterious man, talking to the manager while walking to the table reserved for him.

Tonight was special. You had been working on a new piece inspired by him.

There was no need to know his name, or what he came for, as you sat that morning in the piano, your fingertips took over, the beautiful melody coming to life on its own, you were only an instrument.

But as you walked over to the piano, his table was empty. Disappointment clouded your happiness, you were looking forward to find that man staring at you and then approach you in that elegant stroll holding the rose.

But your surprise grew as the manager walked towards you, handing a rose and a note.

My deepest apologies Miss Adler, I will be attending business tonight, but I’m sure your performance will be remarkable as always.

Looking forward to the next one. Thomas Shelby.

It read.

Turning the page of your book, you decided you wouldn’t play the new piece tonight. If he wasn’t at the club, there was no point. Suddenly tonight’s performance didn’t make your heart beat like a drum.

Walking into your dressing room later, you couldn’t help but miss your brother, holding the last letter Alfie sent against your chest, it felt almost as he was wrapping you in his arms, it had been a few weeks since you last saw him, when he helped you to escape. You knew he was just trying to protect you, and his club in the heart of London was the safest place for you, going under the radar and using a fake name would keep you out of trouble.  

Smoothing the fabric of your dress in front of the mirror, you heard a knock on your door, expecting someone bringing the drink you requested, you hurried to open, only to find the man who left the rose over the piano the previous night.

“Your pets wouldn’t allow me to get close to you.” He informed you leaning against the door frame.

“And yet, you managed to make it all the way here.” You tilted your head to the side.

“I’m a man with limited interests Miss Adler.Tommy Shelby.” He added taking your hand to plant a small kiss.

The brief contact of his lips on the back of your hand was enough to set your body on fire.

Looking into his eyes, was looking straight into his soul.

And he made it seem as if he could go through every layer of yours.

“My part finished thirty minutes ago.” You tried to close the door, but his hand stopped it.

“That means I have to apologize for making you wait too, did you get my rose?”

“I did.” Studying his face, you added; “I was going to play something new.”

“May I ask what stopped you?” He asked while looking intensely into your eyes.

Even before you could stop the words, they escaped from your lips. “Because you weren’t here.”

“I would love to hear it.”

“The club is about to close.”

“I have a place nearby.” He whispered and the fragrance of his aftershave mixed with the cigarettes intoxicated your senses.

 “Would you play it again for me?” Tommy asked later that night kissing your lips slowly.

“But I played it already twice.”

“Third time is a charm.”

Wrapping your body with the sheet, you looked at him; already with his pants on, a cigarette between his fingers, and the marks of your nails on his bare chest. You could tell the night was only starting, with a smile, you walked out of the bedroom, Tommy following close.

And the melody started to fill the silence of the room, your foot against the pedal. With his ocean eyes roaming into your body and soul, you let your fingers do the magic over the keyboard.

From that night on, there was a single rose over your piano every night you played at the club.

And the lies began since Alfie didn't know you were with Tommy, and Tommy didn’t know you were a Solomons.

(End of flashback)

“What are you thinking?” You stirred in his arms and one of your hands moved the fringe off his forehead,that and a million other questions at the tip of his tongue.

“Of the day I met you.” When he looked into your eyes, you found all the love he had for you, and guilt made you feel terrible for leaving him like you did, for every single lie, every secret you kept from him.

“You still have it.” He held the pendant hanging from your neck.

“It reminded me of you, of happier times.” You admitted with a note of melancholy.

Moving his hand up, he was now holding your chin, staring into your eyes, trying to convince himself that you were real, that you were there.

Leaning down, he captured your lips, tentative and gentle at first, then you sensed an urgency you had never seen before, his mouth was demanding,as if he wanted to prove what you left.

Either way, you needed him, Tommy was the air you breathed.

After the heat subsided, you were hoping for an intense interrogatory demanding to know your reasons, but instead, you were met by a dose of compassion.

“I just want you to be safe, I’m taking you back to Alfie.”

“No.” Your voice sounded higher than you expected “I can’t go back there.” You added firmly while taking your clothes from the floor.  

“In order to protect you, I need you to trust me.” Tommy tried to grab your hand, but you hurried downstairs.

Charles Solomons was waiting at the last step of the stairs, holding his gun in his hand.

“My men say there’s a vehicle coming.”

In a matter of seconds, Tommy pulled your body behind his and with his free hand retrieved his gun from the holster.

“Looks like we got company.”

Now that he found you, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

****

   Tag list:

@lyarr24 @zablife @runnning-outof-time @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @onlydeadcells @elenavampire21 @stevie75 @gypsy-girl-08 @the-forest-witchh @esposadomd @strayrockette @lespendy @cillmequick @heidimoreton @evita-shelby @moral-terpitude @shelbydelrey @there-goes-thefighter @pherelesytsia @solomons-finest-rum @peakyswritings @forgottenpeakywriter

[kaylas-world-0]

【𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄, part 2】

AO3 LINK Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

First person point of view

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃: Yes || No

Pairings: Various x F!Reader

A/n: Does anyone want to be in the tag list?

Word Count: 2720

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐍❕️

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

✎ He passed through the trees and bushes into an open area. He scanned the area trying the find a power source can lead him forward in his mission. Even though his body was made of iron, his mind was working very well, thanks to his creator.

Others think he is 'just a robot' but his creator says there is so much more, no matter how unconvincing it sounds.  Unlike other badniks, he has more ability than just detecting the energy of chaos and keeping up with Sonic's strength and speed. At least Metal wants to believe that...

Improve him, make him shiny and more awesome. It will only make him more imperfect.

Why was he start to think such things all of a sudden? He clenches his razor-like claws.

He stared at the undefined creature lying on the grass. It didn't take long for him to realize that the creature was indeed a female, of humankind.

He scanned her calm face. Her chest rose and fell slightly with each breath she took, a trait he did not possess. Breathing.

The female was asleep. She is defenseless. He can kill her on the spot... But he pushed that thought aside. He wouldn't do anything unless Dr. Eggman orders him. His purpose is to find the Chaos Emeralds and destroy Sonic. This girl isn't on his way, he has no reason to hurt her.

He couldn't find any information about who she was in his core memory. She wasn't an enemy, but she wasn't an ally either. Although it is certainly not what he was looking for, he wasn't disappointed with the result either.

A wind blew past them. Metal stares at her trembling body. He approached the girl and knelt beside her. He had never been in close contact with anyone before, he always thought it was pointless. Why would a robot want to make contact with an organic being? Why would a robot want anything specific? Except to listen to its creator. What good does that do? Unless he wants to kill her...

Metal slowly extended his hand towards her face, but quickly stopped himself. What he wanted to do was absurd and pointless, but he was still curious...

He reached out his hand and put his fingertips on her cheek. He thought he sensed a warm aura emanating from her. But it was obscure and intricate to understand. The aura was delicate. He choose to believe he was having errors.

He wanted to pull his hand away, but somehow his hand didn't obliged his orders and remained motionless.

"--She must be here!!" His system was warning him with the familiar voices he heard. Enemies are approaching...!

Metal looked at her once again. Then he turned around and walked away into the bushes. He can leave them alone until Dr. Eggman's next orders. He needed to be alone for a while with these 'new thoughts' of his.

I flinch and woke up. I pushed an object approaching my face and straightened up. I quickly slid into the corner. It didn't take me long to realize that I'm back in the familiar room but this time it wasn't all that empty anymore. No, no, it wasn't at all.

The Mother rabbit I had seen earlier was there. She was holding her hand. I must have hit her. Her face look hurt, but when she realized I was looking at her, she immediately smiled sympathetically. I quickly averted my eyes. I felt guilty... No, No! Don't feel guilty for them!!

I glanced at the other two standing in the corner. One of them was a hedgehog and the other a fox.

The fox looked surprised and closed his open mouth. He looked as if he stopped halfway through his sentence. He was holding a bowl. He looked a little taken back. The hedgehog standing next to him was taller than him, his puzzled face I caught at the last moment was quickly replaced by a confident grin.

They all looked surprised and worried, though they tried to not show it.

I took a deep breath and tried to swallow but my throat was very dry. I tried to push myself back a little more without taking my eyes off them. But I couldn't move an inch. I have to get out of here! But how? They're all here and I'm stuck in this room. My body can't even carry me. There is nothing left for me to do. I was drained. I leaned against the wall and hugged my legs. My whole body aching and hurting. All my effort yesterday was in vain. My eyes started to get blurry. My body is burning.

I jumped as something white appeared in front of me. I blinked a few times to clear my vision. It smelled spice. I can feel the warmth it gives on my face.

I was stunned to see a bowl of soup in front of me. I looked up. The fox was holding the bowl towards me with a warm smile. I was confused. Is he helping me? Why? Although he looked tired, his eyes still glowing brightly.

I looked at the soup again. I was undecided, but my dry throat and rumbling stomach were screaming at me. Shakily I reached for the soup and took it in my hands. The fox stepped back to make room. All three of them were looking at me expectantly. I don't think they'll leave without seeing me take a sip of the soup...

Uncomfortable, I turned my eyes back to the soup. When my stomach growled again, I couldn't stand it anymore and gulped down the soup.

I sighed in relief when I finished it all. It was actually much tastier than I expected. I shyly handed the bowl to the fox and he smiled brightly. Its spicy taste continued to linger on my tongue.

"Do you want more, Miss?" He asked gently. I nodded my head shyly and raised the now empty bowl to him. I was still hungry. He smile and left the room to bring more. My body relaxed a little.

The Hedgehog and the Mother Rabbit weren't in the room anymore. They left the room before I can finish the soup.

That reminded me why I wanted to avoid them so much in the first place. They seem too friendly to fake any of this. But I can't let my guard down now. I need to make sure these creatures are really on my side.

Sounds started coming from outside the room. These voices belonged to two males. Their voice aren't soft unlike the fox has. One of them has a husky and the other has a honeyed. The voices sounded muffled, discussing something. It wasn't like they were creating chaos in the house, but it wasn't a quiet argument either.

Their voice became clearer as they approached the door but it was still muffled, "-Don't worry-, I'll talk to her. -She just woke up, she is -tired. -Give her a break. -We need everyone healthy to solve this. -Besides, You were right. Tails confirmed, she is our key."

He continues walking down the white corridor. He walks up to the metal door at the end of the corridor. When he stands in front of the door, it automatically drags open, revealing a huge workplace. Lots of badniks working inside. He walks past all of them them and takes an elevator. It takes him to his master's floor. He enters his special workplace and the doors closes behind him.

Metal hears yelling from inside. Doctor must be angry about something again. He approaches towards the noise. He finds his master muttering to himself in front of his giant computer. He walks towards his creator, ignoring the two robots passing by. He knew the red one was glaring at his head, but he didn't care.

It doesn't take long for Eggman to spot him. His face lights up and he stands up, "Metal! You're finally back. I'm sure you've brought news that could make my day better!"

Metal didn't respond for a while. ''Yes, what are you waiting for? Did you find me a Chaos Emerald?" He grinned sinisterly.

''I made a discovery that I think might interest you.'' Metal's electronic voice echoed in the room. Eggman raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, indicating Metal to continue.

''A human girl. I found her on top of a hill. She was asleep and vulnerable. But there was a strange energy I felt coming from-'' 

''Enough. I didn't create you to tell me about your time-wasting adventures. I told you to find me a Chaos Emerald. I gave you a day off and you messed with a little girl? Unbelievable.'' 

''But, there is something about the girl. Something weird... I don't know exactly what, but I'll figure it out. I've never sense-''

''I don't want to listen to this, Metal. Don't come here again until you find me a Chaos Emerald.''

Metal would protest, but he stopped himself. Eggman turned to him, ''Got it?''

''Affirmative.''

''Good.'' Eggman returned to the screen and began to pursue the project he was working on. Metal turned around and walked out the door. After getting off the elevator, he walked unsteadily through the large room filled with badniks. When he stopped in front of the automatic door, he heard giggles behind him and shot a deadly glare at them. Orbot and Cubot noticed his glare and quickly run away. He clenched his hands and leave the room.

Orbot laughs to himself and looks towards where Metal had previously stood. ''Since he's this angry, it means he failed in his mission.''

Cubot laughed, ''Funny you say so.'' Orbot turned around, ''Let's go.''

My attention focused on my legs like it was more interesting. I started playing with the end of the light blue sheet, which had orange, yellow and white dot patterns on it that I had noticed.

It was just me and the hedgehog, whose name I learned was Sonic. The room was tidy as usual, there wasn't much that could subvert the room anyway. Except for the bedsheet.

Sonic continued to sit quietly on the bed beside me. He looked surprisingly relaxed. It was as if he had nothing to worry about at the moment and was just enjoying the time being.

It was the opposite of me. Now was not the time to enjoy. I don't know why but he didn't look like a guy with a quiet, calm, and serious personality. He seemed more like a hyperactive and joking person. With a carefree and happy-go-lucky attitude. But I didn't know him and I really didn't know what he was like. So I couldn't judge him.

The silence was awkward. Every minute that passed was increasing my anxiety. It's also worrying that the hedgehog continues to sit quietly and act like nothing weird happened. I'm grateful that he didn't attack me with questions, but it was too quiet.

It wasn't uncomfortable that he was a company with me, it was just that I didn't know him, that he was half hedgehog, and that we had been chasing each other all day yesterday It that was bothering me somewhere far back in my brain.

He seemed like a nice person, but I wasn't sure. I still had question marks in my mind.

I did not want to be alone with my thoughts anymore so I spoke up, trying to find a topic, "So...uh... You're a hedgehog...?" I didn't intend it to come out like a question, but it did.

I still couldn't get over the fact of this station I was in, I had involuntarily slipped it out of my mouth. It was silly. My brain still couldn't grasp how this was possible. It wasn't logical.

Sonic hummed, "And you're a human..." He replied jokingly.

I sighed, "Sorry. It's just... Too much for me. This, I don't understand-!" I cut myself off couldn't figure out what to say next.

Sonic nodded, "I understand. Take your time. I know it's hard to get used to it. But you'll be fine after a while." He leans on his elbows thinking about something.

He glances at me and smiles, "Stuff like this happens to me all the time."

"Isn't it hard?" 

"At first yes, but after a while, you get used to it. As if it was very normal. It becomes a part of your life."

I hummed, looking back to my feet.

"Hey, don't get upset now. We'll try to send you back. My lil' bud' already start working on it. So don't worry. Believe me when I say this, no matter what we will send you back to your home." He resured.

I smiled, I want to believe that too.

The door opened slowly and someone came in and closed the door. He smiled at us apologetically, "Sorry I'm a little late." When the fox noticed where my gaze was locked. He glances at his tails. Then he approached me and handed me the bowl. His ear twitched and he sat quietly next to us. There was no emotion on his face.

Thinking I had offended him somehow, I averted my gaze from his twin tails I had just noticed he had and looked at the soup. It was warming my hands. I sighed as the cool air rushed in through the open window and smiled to myself, "Your tails are beautiful." I whispered.

He looked up in surprise. He looked stunned for a sec then smiled speechlessly. Sonic smiled to himself.

He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner. I'm Tails... but you probably figure that out..."

I smiled, "Nice to meet you. Thanks for the soup, Tails." Tails smiled back.

Before I can take a sip of the soup Sonic interrupted, "Actually, there's something important we need to talk to you about. We need your help."

Before a million questions and warnings popped up in my head, I swallowed nervously, "What do I need to help you with?" 

Sonic and Tails make eye contact for a short time. They look serious. Sonic spoke calmly, "You need to come with us to the Angel Island."

Tails spoke up, "You are the key to a dangerous gate. The power emanating from you last night proves it. You have to understand this is very dangerous and we need your help. You are the only one who can close that gate. With the help of the Chaos Emeralds of course. If you agree to do this, you'll be saving everyone's life." Tails begged.

I looked at the soup, not knowing what to say. Having a lot of mixed feelings.

I can't escape from this can I? Then I'll help. Even if I don't know how to do it... After all, everything has a reason.

I pushed back the fear and confusion and tried to think positively. Maybe everything would end well in the end. They will help me and I will help them.

After taking a sip from the soup, I took a deep breath and turned to them. Using a stern voice that said I wouldn't be in it if they did something to break my trust, "I trust you two."

Although not knowing what might happen in the future increased my fear, I came to terms with it. I've never done anything dangerous in my life. If the situation was that serious, then I couldn't ignore the innocent people's safety and leave them to die.

I made up my mind and spoke more confidently, "I am in. What do I need to do?" Sonic and Tails look at each other surprised, that I just agreed with it like that.

Sonic turned to her with a grin, "Do you enjoy flying?"

My eyes open wide. Oh, no. Anything but flying.

[rubysunnday]

bloody hands | k.b

A/N: this is my first time writing for ye old kazzle dazzle and i'm terrified, lol (i'm also shit at summaries)

Summary: Kaz never feels the need to explain his entire plan. He knows that, whatever happens, it will inevitably go according to plan. But when his plan goes wrong and Y/N is injured, Kaz is suddenly forced to comprehend with the skeletally hand of death once again.

"So, was the gunfire part of the original plan?"

Kaz shoot Y/N a withering look - one that would have anyone in their right mind turning around and running. Y/N just beamed at him.

"No, it wasn't," Kaz replied, glowering at her. "Jesper shouldn't have started so early."

"He's on time," Y/N reminded him.

"For Jesper that's early."

"True."

Y/N and Kaz ducked back behind the wall as bullets whizzed past them smashing into the houses behind them.

"So, we are being fired at because you couldn't be bothered to explain the full plan," Y/N said, trying not to glare at Kaz.

"No, we're being fired at because Jesper's timing is horrendous," Kaz snapped.

Jesper, as if summoned, suddenly appeared at Y/N's side, sliding to a stop on the slippery cobbles. "Right, that's that, then."

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "What -"

She was cut off being a tremendous explosion from inside the warehouse they'd all just being chased out off. Smoke billowed into the air and flames rolled up into the sky. The men who had been firing at them all exclaimed and ran off to the warehouse, leaving the alley empty.

"Well, you could have done that sooner, Jes," Y/N muttered stepping out from behind the wall.

"Well, of course, but then what's the point, love?" Jesper asked, winking at her,

Y/N began to laugh but was cut off as a more gunshots echoed through the street. She ducked and Jesper pulled her behind a barrel as he fired back at the lone gunman, hitting him in the shoulder as he ran off.

"You alright?" Jesper asked, panting. He glanced at Y/N who was nodding, albeit shakily.

"I'm fine," she said, peeking her head over the top of the barrel and slowly standing up. "Nearly died, but I'm fine."

"You didn't nearly die," Kaz drawled, walking over to them.

"We all nearly died, Kaz, all because you can't explain any plan in full detail!" Y/N yelled. "Inej almost got stabbed!"

"But she didn't," Kaz replied, glancing up at the roofs where Inej was inevitably haunting.

Y/N glanced over at Kaz and let out an exasperated sigh. "Would it kill you to actually explain a plan in whole? It would make our lives so - ah."

She cut herself off with a gasp of pain. Y/N lost her footing as she stumbled forward. and Jesper grabbed her, wrapping one hand around her waist, the other snaking around to rest on her back.

"Hey, you ok?" Jesper asked, his dark eyes full of concern as he supported almost the full weight of Y/N.

Y/N glanced down at her side and noticed a dark patch spreading from just under her right breast, staining her waistcoat. She raised a shaking hand to the blood stain and let out a surprised gasp as her hand came away wet with blood.

"Oh."

The sight of the blood on her hand seemed to push her over the edge and Jesper exclaimed as her legs buckled. His grip tightened as he caught her and gently lowered her to the cobbled street, kneeling down with Y/N and putting her head in his lap.

"Inej!" Jesper yelled, unable to see where the Suli girl had vanished too.

Kaz stared as blood dripped onto the cobble stones. His mind was still watching Y/N yell at him for being him. It wasn't meant to happen like this. His grip on the crow's head of his cane was almost crushing and he could feel the tiny, delicate beak cutting into his hand through his gloves.

Y/N was dying because of him.

If he'd told them what his actual plan was or if he'd just told her.

Y/N's hand was pressing against her right side, Jesper's hand covering hers as he helped put pressure on her side. The blood was seeping over both of their hands, staining them red.

Inej suddenly appeared out of the shadows, hurrying over to Y/N's side in silence. She unwrapped her scarf from around her head and began wapping it around Y/N's side as Jesper moved Y/N's shaking hand away from the wound. Jesper carefully lifted Y/N up as Inej meticulously wrapped it around, trying to slow the bleeding.

"We need Nina," Inej said aloud as she tied her scarf in a knot, securing it around Y/N's side. She looked expectantly over at Kaz.

Kaz was clenching his jaw tightly. He forced himself to swallow the fear and the mental image of Y/N lying next to Jordie on the Reaper's barge. "She's at the White Rose. Bring her to the Slat."

Inej nodded. She cast Y/N a worried glance before she climbed up a drainpipe and vanished into the clouds, leaving no sign she'd ever been there except the now bloody scarf around Y/N's side.

"Jesper, your face looks weird without a smile on it," Y/N said softly, her left hand finding his, their fingers entwining.

Jesper forced himself to smile down at her. He smoothed back her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Sorry, love."

Y/N's eyes fluttered shut and Jesper moved his bloody hands to either side of her pale face, shaking her as gently as he could.

"Hey, hey, stay with me, love," Jesper said, not so gently, as he tried to keep her conscious.

Y/N blinked her eyes open and looked up at Jesper, the world spinning around her, the buildings around them looking even drunker than usual. "Hey."

"Hey, beautiful," Jesper replied, stroking her cheek with his thumb, both of them choosing to ignore the fact that Y/N's blood was all over Jesper's hands and was now on her face.

Kaz felt a pang of jealously rush through him. Jesper could comfort her and carry her to safety. Inej could hold her hand and hug her. Nina could heal her and touch her without feeling like she was about to pass out.

Kaz wanted to run to Y/N. He wanted to kneel down next to her and hold her hand. But he couldn't. He physically could not force himself to.

As he stared at her, at the woman he'd taken for granted for so long, he just saw her dead, lying on the street like Jordie had. The nightmare spiralled from there as he remembered the Reaper's Barge, the cold, bloated body of his brother. The hands. Drowning in a sea of rotten bodies.

No.

Y/N wasn't dead. She was still alive. She was still awake and wasn't dead.

A small voice inside him added the word yet to the end of his sentence but he refused to listen to it.

"Jesper," Kaz said, his voice rougher and croakier then usual. "We need to move her to the Slat."

Jesper recognised the pain and unfiltered emotion on Kaz's face. It wasn't normal to see his boss so openly show emotion but when Y/N was involved, Kaz was an unknown entity.

The man would never admit to himself that he had feelings for her. Kaz was in denial. He refused to acknowledge the emotions inside him. But he'd taken Y/N for granted. He just assumed she would always be on his left side, walking just behind him.

"Ready?"

Jesper's voice snapped Kaz back to the street and he looked at Y/N, her skin pale and sweaty, her hands shaking. Kaz nodded, gripping his cane tightly.

"Right, love, your knight in shining armour has arrived," Jesper said, a teasing tone to his words that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Y/N chuckled softly as Jesper moved to her side, his arms going under her legs and then around her back. Y/N let out a groan of pain and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as he lifted her up. She dropped her head onto his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the soft material of his coat rubbing against her face.

Kaz's cane clicking against the cobbles was the sound Y/N focused on as Jesper carried her towards the Slat. She wanted to fall asleep, to just close her eyes and burrow into Jesper's jacket for warmth. But Kaz's cane kept clicking and Y/N focused on it, the sound alone reassuring her of his presence.

"Hey, don't doze off on me," Jesper said, glancing down at Y/N as her eyes shut.

"I"m not," Y/N said softly, her eyes opening sluggishly and looking up at Jesper as she re-wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm not."

Jesper squeezed her leg as he noticed her eyes droop slightly, her head dropping back against his shoulder. "No sleeping on the job, Y/N, Kaz will have your head."

Y/N's laugh was weaker and Kaz felt a pang of pain in his chest as he looked over at her. She was dying. She couldn't be dying. But she was dying.

Kaz forced himself to reply, playing along in an attempt to keep Y/N awake. "You fell asleep on a job once, Jesper, and yet you're still here. Unfortunately."

Jesper let out a bark of laughter and Kaz caught Y/N smiling, albeit small. Good.

"We're nearly there, love," Jesper said quietly, spotting the towering, drunkenly slumped shack that was the Slat.

Y/N hummed a response but the blood loss was beginning to hit her. Her sight was speckled by black dots and her ears were filled with a high pitched ringing.

Jesper glanced down at her, noticing her silence ."Y/N, hey, stay with me, darling, we're almost there."

Y/N wanted to reply. She wanted to reassure Jesper, because she could hear the thinly disguised panic in his voice, that she was still with him but she was so tired and her eyes weren't letting her stay awake.

The urge to sleep won over her need to reassure Jesper and her eyes rolled backwards. Jesper felt Y/N's arms slip from around his neck, limply hanging to the sides, as she lost consciousness and felt panic grip his entire being.

Kaz slammed open the door to the Slat and the Dregs loitering around looked up, hands flying to weapons.

"Nina!" Kaz yelled, his voice doing a fairly good job at hiding his fear, his worry, the panic that Y/N was dying.

Nina rushed out the side room and met them halfway across the room, eyes running over Y/N, the blood seeping through Inej's scarf, the blood on Jesper's hands, on Y/N's hands.

"Quickly," she said, ushering Jesper into the room.

There was a table set in the middle of the room and dozens of candles had been lit to provide enough light in the dark room. A large, heavy oak chest of drawers was shoved up against the window and Inej was hovering against the far wall, her eyes locking onto Y/N's body as soon as Jesper carried her into the room.

"On the table, Jesper," Nina ordered, opening a drawer, numerous bottles clinking as she rummaged around.

Jesper gently set Y/N down on the table, carefully laying her down and moving her arms to rest on the wood. He took his jacket off and bundled it up, lifting Y/N's head up and setting the material underneath her head.

Kaz stood in the doorway, hands tightly wrapped around his cane, the metal beginning to cut through his gloves and into his hands. In any of building, in any other city in the world, he would've looked like an omen of death.

He forced himself to stare at Y/N as Jesper helped Nina unwrap Inej's scarf from around Y/N's side.

Kaz shuddered as his mind shoved Jordie to the front, the feeling of his brother's cold, bloated skin against his, drowning him. He was drowning in Jordie; in Y/N dying on the table in front of him.

Nina was muttering to herself as she worked, one hand around Y/N's wrist, the other holding a pile of gauze to her side. Kaz watched her intently and could see her counting Y/N's heartbeat as she tried to stop the bleeding.

Which is why, because Kaz was watching Nina with such intensity, that when Nina paused her muttering and looked down at Y/N, her eyes slowly widening, did Kaz feel his own heart shudder and almost stop.

Nina let go of Y/N's wrist, dropping her hand onto the table. She brought her hands together, her first two fingers overlapping each other, and then brought them down onto Y/N's chest.

It was as if Kaz could hear Y/N's heart slowing down and not speeding up. He watched as Nina repeated her movements, determination and panic and fear written on her face as her eyes welled up.

Kaz swallowed and felt the ocean overwhelming him again. He saw Y/N staring back at him, lifeless and dead just like Jordie. Her beautiful eyes staring emptily back at him, void of life. He'd failed her like he'd failed Jordie. The most important thing in his life was dead.

Inej was frantically praying, clutching her knife, Sankt Alina, tightly. Jesper was still for the first time since he'd carried Y/N in, his eyes red with tears as he stared at Y/N's limp, bloody body.

Kaz took one look at Nina and saw the dwindling hope in her eyes, the tears streaming down her face and turned around, walking out the room, his cane clacking loudly against the floor.

Nina sobbed and repeated her movements one more time, desperately trying to get Y/N's heart to start beating again. She'd saved Matthias in the middle of the ocean, during a hurricane, she could save Y/N.

Nina brought her hands down on to Y/N's chest once more with, perhaps, more force than needed. She kept them there and willed the organ inside her friend to not give up.

To keep going.

Second by second, Nina felt it slowly begin to beat again. Nina kept her hands on Y/N's chest, scared that if she moved even an inch it might stop beating again. Second by second, the colour began to slowly come back into Y/N's skin and Nina sighed, dropping her head in relief.

Inej let out a happy sob and closed her eyes, praying to her Saints once again and thanking them.

"Jesper, come here and wrap her wound, stop making that face, it's a bullet wound, you'll be fine," Nina snapped, glaring at Jesper when he balked at the thought, all thoughts of death and misery gone, their usual banter slowly returning.

Jesper walked around to stand next to Nina and took a clean wad of gauze and drenched it in alcohol. He pulled Y/N's bloody shirt up and gently pressed it to her side. His other hand reached up to Y/N's face and with a clean, damp cloth, he began wiping the dried blood off her skin.

"Oh, Saints, Kaz!" Inej exclaimed suddenly, making Jesper and Nina jump. She flew out the room like a breeze and dashed up the stairs to Kaz's office where he'd inevitably retreated.

Kaz was stood hunched in front of his mirror, his gloves off, his head hung. Inej walked in slowly, making sure to announce her presence by stepping on the creaky floorboard by the door.

"Don't," Kaz said, his voice croaking and Inej realised that he was crying. "Don't say it."

"Kaz," Inej said softly, slowly approaching him.

"No, Inej!" Kaz snapped, whirling around to stare at her. His eyes were red and his hair was a mess and his hands were shaking. "I took her for granted. I never," Kaz took a deep, shaky breath in, "I never told her or even showed her just how much..."

Even now, even when she was dead, he couldn't bring life to the words. They sat dead on his tongue, poisoning him. He hated his brother for making him this way. Hated Ketterdam for being the way it was. He even hated Y/N for being so fucking perfect that he had to fall in love with her. He was a fool so desperately in love that it scared him endlessly.

"Kaz," Inej repeated, slowly, gently, laying a hand on his arm.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up but Inej made sure to place her hand on the part that was still covered. Kaz flinched but didn't tell her to remove her hand or move back.

"Kaz," Inej said again. "Y/N isn't dead. She's alive. Nina brought her back."

Kaz turned his head and locked eyes with Inej. He didn't say anything but Inej understood. She nodded, reassuring him that she was being honest.

Perhaps, if Y/N hadn't been around, they would have fallen in love. Maybe it would be Inej he was crying over. Maybe it would have been Inej lying there, injured. Maybe Kaz would have torn the city apart to find the man who had injured her.

But he had Y/N. She was alive, three flights of stairs below, with Nina and Jesper at her side.

"I'll find him," Inej promised, dropping her hand from Kaz's arm and pulling her hood up.

"Leave some for me," Kaz said lowly, his eyes following Inej to the window. "I feel like ripping an eyeball or two out."

Kaz slowly limped down the stairs to Y/N's bedroom. He could hear numerous voices from inside and hesitated outside the door. Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, heistated.

"Kaz, just come in already!" Nina yelled from within.

Kaz rolled his eyes and opened the door. "Stop spying on me, Zenik."

"It's difficult not to when your heartbeat is so loud," Nina replied, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

Y/N snorted and Kaz looked at her. She was sat on her bed with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Jesper sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Y/N was half leaning on Jesper and half on the wall and looked so alive.

Inej had found the man who'd shot her and, together, they'd ripped the man's eyes out, slit his throat and thrown his body onto the Reaper's Barge. It had helped quell the ghosts threatening to haunt him once again but they hadn't truly abated until Kaz had gotten to look at Y/N and see her talk.

Y/N gave him a smile and Kaz nodded back at her, trying to hide his relief at how alive she looked.

She was alive. She wasn't dead. She wasn't Jordie. She wasn't going anywhere. She was still here, with him, in Ketterdam. And he wasn't going to let her go.

"There's blood on your shoes, Kaz," Y/N said, gesturing to his black shoes with her head, her voice almost startling him.

Kaz looked down and eyed the single drop with distaste. So there was. A single drop. All that was left of the man who'd shot her.

Y/N laughed at the look on Kaz's face. "He looks like he just sucked a lemon," she said to Jesper, albeit loud enough for Kaz to hear too.

"No, that's his normal face," Jesper replied, smirking as he winked at Kaz.

Y/N laughed, throwing her head back. Her hair fell over her shoulder and her eyes sparkled in the dim, orange light of her room. Her laugh was like music to him.

And Kaz Brekker realised with a sudden, painful thud that he was completely and utterly besotted with her.

[pingutats]

be this close, forever and ever

you and harry have been together for a while. your nights at home are quiet and comfortable, and, well, you’re both just so in love.

warnings: sexual content (soft giggly sex), mostly fluff

word count: 2.5k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

Living with Harry, the two of you start to fall into the same rhythm. It’s not easy with his schedule as chaotic as it often is and your lives so profoundly different, but the nights when he’s home are the quiet sanctuary you need from all of those stresses. His little rituals seep into your own. The evenings are for being together, enjoying each other’s company without distraction or pressure. It’s just you and him, and the routine you’ve constructed so delicately together.

It starts with a face mask. Just because he’s so famous, he receives packages from different companies hoping for endorsements. He doesn’t really do those but he keeps the boxes anyway and most nights the two of you pick out one to try. He reads through the ingredients while you wait for the prescribed fifteen minutes to pass: pumpkin extract, baobab oil, a white flower extract.

“Which white flower?” Harry asks, looking up at you. 

His mask is wrinkled between his brows where he’s frowning and you reach up to smooth it out again, your hands coming away sticky. You wipe them on his sweatpants, which just makes him frown again. “Dunno,” you say, “but it must be a pretty powerful flower if it—” you snatch the packet out of his hand “—de-puffs, hydrates, and brightens our skin.” You scan the printed text for a moment. “I think this one’s supposed to be used in the morning.”

“Oh, fuck. The moon’s out. Was this all for nothing?”

After peeling off the masks carefully in the bathroom, you coo over each other’s soft skin ridiculously and move back into the living room for the next unspoken event of your night. Harry is borderline religious about meditating, somehow possessing the discipline to do it for twenty minutes day and night. You aren’t like him, but sometimes you join in. It is good for you, after all.

The two of you sit on the carpet, legs crossed and backs straight, side by side and within arms reach. The itch to reach out and touch him or lean over to put your head on his shoulder is strong, but you know it annoys him when you do that. He is so serious about it — “It doesn’t work if you keep poking me, the point is to be completely focused” — and even if you’ve never reached his fanaticism about the practise, you respect it so you keep your distance. Two minutes in, though, you’re starting to get bored. He can meditate for ages: twenty minutes is his standard, and you simply don’t have it in you to sit still for that long. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, you uncross your legs and stand up, padding across the soft carpet into the kitchen to turn on the kettle.

When the soft alarm he’s set on his phone rings and brings him back to reality, he blinks open his eyes to see you in front of him, holding two steaming mugs. It’s the tea he buys especially to have before bed, something a friend recommended to relax him. You aren’t sure if it really does anything, but it tastes good so you always have a cup too. When you think about it, you do almost always have a good sleep the nights that you drink it. Those nights are the ones you’re sleeping with Harry, though, so maybe it isn’t the tea. You set the mugs on the table nearby. 

“Thank you, love,” he says softly. He reaches to take hold of your hand and then suddenly drags you down to the floor, a tangle of limbs as you collapse on top of him. 

You giggle and then shriek as his fingers find the ticklish spot along your ribs. “Harry! Get off!”

His attack ceases very quickly when you accidentally elbow him in the stomach in your attempts to escape.

“Sorry, H.”

“’S alright. Probably deserved it.”

“You did.”

But he’s mostly quiet in the evenings — doesn’t like to talk too much as he decompresses from the busy-ness of his days, so he shows his affection more through his actions. As the two of you sip your tea (still on the floor, because with the plushy carpet he has it’s just as comfortable down here as on the couch) he reaches out to drum his fingers over your knee while he tries to remember all the things he needs to do tomorrow. He’s always written himself to-do lists and he got you hooked on them too. You were sceptical at first, but they do make life easier. The little thrill of ticking off boxes in your black notebook with your initials monogrammed on the bottom right corner (Harry’s gift) is a bonus. He’s less driven by those superficial rewards, so he chooses to keep his on his laptop, which is rose gold. His hand leaves you only to type the next line of his to-do list, then he’s back to tracing patterns over the fabric of your borrowed sweatpants. He emails the list to himself when he’s finished. You’ve always found that funny, and you tease him for being grandpa-ish, but it’s just another one of his eccentricities that makes him more endearing.

You probably wear his clothes just as much as you wear your own. He loves seeing you in his stuff. He’s practically throwing t-shirts at you as soon as you walk into the house. He’ll take your stuff, too, sometimes. Dating Harry comes with an unspoken agreement to merge your wardrobes. There are a couple of pieces — a hoodie or two, sweatpants that are too big for either of you, a pair of extremely fluffy socks — that have been passed between you for so long that you can barely remember who owned them first. The sweatpants you’re wearing right now (paired with just a sports bra) are his. The old band tee he has on is yours.

He carries the empty mugs back to the kitchen and loads them into the dishwasher while you finish the last of your planning. There’s no discussion around it, just like no one asked you to make the tea in the first place. The two of you just now how to work together now, with all the times you’ve practised this routine. Sometimes it’s him who makes the tea, sometimes you finish your list first, but you never really have to talk. Harry usually picks out an album to play in the background over these moments, and that’s the only thing you need to listen to. It’s good. It makes you feel more connected to him, like you understand each other on a deeper level than just being able to talk.  You know Harry like the back of your hand. He knows you almost as well as you know yourself. It’s a quiet kind of euphoria, to love and be loved back. You don’t need the fanfares and the grandiose displays. You just need each other.

Later, you pull faces at each other in the mirror while you brush your teeth, bumping hips as you giggle around your toothbrushes. He’s finished in the bathroom before you are, so he lies in bed  in just his boxers and watches you through the open doorway while you do your last couple of skincare and hair rituals. Satisfied, you switch the bathroom light off and enter the bedroom that you share, decorated with framed artworks you both chose, a bedspread that you picked out together. You quickly change into just a long loose shirt, then collapse into bed with him and crawl under the covers, his greedy arms pulling you to nestle into his side while he presses a kiss to your forehead. He likes to read before he sleeps, but you aren’t in the mood for that. You shuffle down until your head is at his chest and you throw your arm and leg over him, letting him rest his paperback against your bare thigh while he reads with you wrapped around him.

After a couple of minutes of just the sound of pages turning and your soft breaths, you start to sponge kisses over his bare chest. He ignores you at first, but you hear his breathing stutter as you move up to his collarbone.

“Let me just finish this chapter,” he murmurs. “Just a couple pages left.” His eyes don’t leave the page, but he gropes around until he finds your hand and brings your fingers to his mouth, kissing them before he lets your intertwined hands drop.

You don’t reply. You pull your hand out of his loose grasp and run your fingertips up the subtly defined lines of his abs, softened by the way he’s sitting. You trace the wings of the butterfly tattooed over his stomach, then draw a constellation between his four nipples — he chuckles and pulls your hand away, holding it tighter this time.

“Baby,” he says, a little firmer this time.

You kiss his shoulder again.

He sighs, closing the book (he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the page until it’s fully closed and you almost feel bad for distracting him until —

He throws the book on the nightstand and reaches over your body to plant his hand on the mattress, pushing himself up so he’s hovering above you. “You’re a pest,” he says, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours. 

You giggle and bite your lip, wrapping one leg around his hip and pulling him closer to you. “Kiss me?”

He obliges, pressing his lips against yours. “That all you wanted?” His tone is slightly teasing. He’s always liked to see you squirm.

You shake your head, wrapping your other leg around him. You can feel the bulge underneath his boxers against your crotch and it sets a fire in your core. You thread a hand into his hair and pull him down to kiss him again, less chastely this time. You roll your hips against him, just slightly, and smile against his kiss when you feel him twitch.

He breaks away from the kiss and smears his lips over your cheekbone to your ear. “Tell me, angel, tell me what you want you want and I’ll give it to you,” he whispers.

You barely contain a whimper at how deep his voice has gotten. “Fuck me,” you say, gasping as he starts to place hot openmouthed kisses down your neck. When you first slept together, you were too embarrassed to ask him so openly. You don’t get embarrassed around him anymore. “Harry, please fuck me.”

He pulls back suddenly, smiling down at you. “See? All you had to do was ask nicely.”

“Harry!”

He’s laughing as he pulls his boxers down to free his cock, but his giggles fade into a low moan as he takes hold of himself and strokes a couple times. “Ready for me, baby?”

“Yeah.”

He pushes into you with one fluid motion, making your eyes roll back. He fills you so perfectly. Every single time he’s in you is better than the last, it never gets old — there’s no feeling that’s as good as how he feels. Sometimes it’s explosive, sometimes he’s brutal in how he fucks you, or passionate and needy, or the both of you get caught up in the roles you make up to play, but you treasure the times like this. The times where he’s on top of you, face-to-face, alternating between kisses and whispers and little giggles — this is where you feel the most love for Harry.

He takes his time, in no hurry to end this moment. The pace he sets is slow but he reaches deep into you on each thrust, his breath coming out increasingly ragged every time he buries himself to the hilt. You have your hands in his hair and splayed across his back — he has one clutching the pillow beside your head to hold himself up, the other roaming over your chest. It’s like he can’t decide what he wants to do with his mouth: he’ll kiss your lips, then along your jaw, down your neck, then back up to your ear where he whispers all the sweet little nothings he can think of.

“So pretty, baby, love you so much, taking me so well, always my good girl, my best girl, my girl, always feel so good…” He chants it like a prayer, his words taking on a firmer tone each time he thrusts in, starting to pick up the pace a bit. “Touch yourself for me, darling, want to see you cum underneath me.”

You moan and reach down between your legs, rubbing little circles around your clit while he starts to fuck you at a faster pace. “Feels so good, Harry,” you say, your words choked slightly by the intensity of what you’re feeling right now.

“I know it does,” he replies, kissing you again, swallowing your moans. That edge of cockiness, the way he knows how to take care of you, when you just need his mouth on you and he can’t keep off you — you love all these little traits. You love him. And he loves you. That’s maybe the feeling to triumph over all the others.

“I’m close, I’m close,” you chant, the hand on his back digging fingernail marks into his skin as the warm feeling in your core rises, threatening to explode.

He thrusts into you faster, his rhythm growing slightly sloppy. “Yeah? Let go for me, baby, let go, I’m right behind you.”

You cum, legs shaking around him and brows pinched as you stare up at him, while he watches you cum undone with an intensity behind his gaze that wasn’t there before. You say his name, over and over, trying to put all you want to say into just that one word. You hope it’s enough. You think it is. He gets you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says, words cut off by a pant, as you feel the aftershocks of your own orgasm and the growing over-sensitivity. “You feel so good, baby, gonna cum so hard…”

You feel him spill into you as he cries out, his body collapsing over yours so his entire body is pressed against yours. You thread your fingers through his hair until he starts to come down from his high and rolls off you, his cock slipping out and you hiss at the slight friction.

“God…” he murmurs into the air. “That was so good.”

You giggle, twisting around and propping your head up with your hand so you can look down at him. “You say that every time.”

“It’s good every fucking time,” he says, a smile spreading across his face.

You poke his dimple and he tries to catch your finger with his mouth, biting the air playfully, but you pull it away. “You’re such a weirdo.”

He pouts for a second, but then his features soften. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You drop your head back down to the pillow, watching him stretch his arm out to turn off his bedside lamp. After a couple of swats at the switch, he finally manages it, and brings the same arm back over to drape over your body. It’s totally dark now. “Love you so much,” he tells you, kisses your forehead.

“Love you more. Goodnight, H. Sweet dreams.”

“Night, angel. Sleep well.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

hope you enjoyed -- let me know if u did, i like reading ur replies/tags !! i rlly loved writing this fic, it’s just so domestic and sweet and happy. the meditating and the to-do list (including the emailing !! ) is from the real harry. 

btw !! my ask box is open for requests & general chatter, so come say hi :D

[ascarimo]

After Class - [Professor!Lando]

A/N: Requested on Wattpad

WORDCOUNT: 2.2K+

WARNINGS: nsfw (teacher x student plot, unprotected sex)

SYNOPSIS: You're one of Lando's students, and he's your Arts professor. You have a question about a project, and therefore you ask if you can stay after class.

When reading the description of the extra course you were about to choose, you weren't exactly sure if it would be a good choice. Nevertheless, you thought a semester of art class would mean easy credits added to your study, and therefore you selected the course, taking it next to the other courses of your study. Art and design had always interested you, especially the designing of clothing, and it would also be fun to take this course as an extra effort. Ever since you met the professor of the course, Professor Norris, it was your favorite course. The Brit taught the class four hours a week, a lecture and a seminar. You had to admit that his good looks and his charming, bright character are the main part why you loved the course as well. The exam period was coming up soon, and for the art class, Mr. Norris gave his class the assignment to design their own clothing line.

And it was harder than you thought. Two weeks before the exam period, Professor Norris gave his students the time to work on it in class, where they could ask him questions as well. After the last seminar, all the students had three more weeks to finish the project and hand it in. You were struggling with the color scheme, yet confident about the design. You felt like you were stuck in your project, and whatever you tried, it didn't seem to work. Luckily, you had the chance to ask your professor today. You were right on time for his class to start, and with your laptop, you sat down in one of the middle rows of the classroom. The seminar group was small, which you liked, as the setting was a lot cozier with just eight students, instead of a large group. Professor Norris hopped on his desk, looking around the class. He was wearing a ripped pair of jeans, a slightly large shirt, and some sneakers he had designed and created himself.

"Good afternoon, everyone, we're just going to repeat the seminar from last week. You have the time to work on your projects and ask about anything you need help with. Feel free to put some headphones on or anything," Professor Norris told his students, which made most of them nod in agreement. You looked up at him, his lips twitching upwards when his eyes met yours. You smiled back at him before starting up your laptop, logging into your account, and selecting the file of your project. You scrolled through it, silence filling the classroom as everyone was either busy or on their phone. You looked around, waiting for the first one to step towards Professor Norris' desk, but neither of the others did. You were hesitant to ask him something so soon, just after the start of the class. You remained seated for a while, however, he seemed to notice your pondering, and when you looked up again, he stood at your table. "What are you working on?" Mr. Norris asked.

"Ehm, well..." You started with a soft laugh. "I started on this, but I don't like it a lot," you admitted, turning your laptop to show him, feeling slightly nervous. He leaned his hands on the table, and your eyes glided over his arms, the veins bulging up over his tanned skin. You were quick to divert your eyes elsewhere. "What don't you like about it?" he asked. "It's too basic. I think it needs more... me" "You." You said at the same time, causing you to laugh softly, and so did he. "Think of something that describes your life, your personality, think of symbols or sayings that mean a lot to you, and try to work that in. You have a great base, so just some more creativity is needed," Professor Norris told you, and you looked into his eyes. You nodded slowly, feeling your face growing hot under his gaze. "Thank you," you choked out, gnawing your teeth into your bottom lip as he gave you a grin. Mr. Norris was young, about your age, and he was doing his internship at your university, and he was undeniably hot.

You were continuing on your project throughout the class, yet you were still not satisfied with the current look of it. You weren't sure what kind of things to design along with it, and you decided to stay behind to ask some more. "Mr. Norris? Would it be okay for me to stay behind for some minutes?" you asked, standing up as the others did so too. "Of course," Lando replied to you, wishing the others a great day and good luck with their projects. Your eyes glided over his appearance once more. You liked that his style was different from the other professors, who were dressed in tight suits. He was young, seemed the have the same mindset as his students, which automatically caused his classes to be so much more fun. The other students now walked out of the classroom, and you picked up your laptop to take it to his desk. "To improve the design I'd like to see it in 3D, but I can't get this programme to work," you sighed.

"You do have the updated version downloaded, right?" Professor Norris asked, moving next to you and glancing at your screen. "Yes," you replied. "Some of the functions are hidden a little, let me try," Lando took your laptop, briefly watching when you leaned back against his desk. The skirt you were wearing looked very flattering on you, but Lando diverted his eyes from your figure. He was distracted by the move you made when leaning against his desk with your hands, pushing your upper body slightly forward, the off-shoulder blouse you were wearing nearly showed the swell of your cleavage. Lando cleared his throat, swallowing hard as he opened the menu on the designing program on your laptop. "Could you get the charger, please?" Lando asked then, the battery was still 30 percent, but he watched you nod and turn around to your bag.

His teeth dug into his lower lip when your skirt floated around your legs, the material riding slightly upwards from the movement when you picked up your bag and got the charger out. "Thanks," Lando muttered. "If you come on my side, I can show you how it works," Lando said then, and you made your way around his desk. He was close to you, and you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His long fingers were pointing to the screen, making your eyes dart over to them instead. The pull in your lower abdomen worsened each time his hands came in sight, making you squeeze your thighs together subtly. "Is it understandable?" Lando asked. "J-just once more how to activate..." Your breath hitched in your throat when his fingers brushed over the back of your thighs. "To activate?" Lando hummed.

Professor Norris rose from his seat, and you looked up at him meanwhile, words stuck in your mouth. "Tell me, darling," he ushered, making a step forward. The back of your thighs hit his desk, and you shuffled onto it. "I-I think it's clear now," you stammered. "Are you sure? You can stay a little longer if you want," Professor Norris replied while his fingertips trailed up your legs, feeling the soft material of your skirt. "Unless I make you uncomfortable," he was quick to add, and you looked into his bright eyes. You shook your head, your lashes fluttering when his lips hovered over yours. "This is so inappropriate," you muttered, feeling his lips on yours. "But you're so pretty, and we're the same age," he replied, giving you a taste of his lips. "My best student," Lando continued, his hands curling around your waist.

"That's not true," you laughed, gnawing down on your bottom lip when his nose nuzzled against your cheek, a sweet peck following. "Always so sweet in the middle row, working so hard," Lando told you, his fingers riding up the material of your blouse, feeling your bare skin. "Let me reward you, darling," his voice was husk, raspy in your ear, and you were addicted to the scent of his cologne that lingered around him. You adored the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your waist. Lando lifted his head and finally kissed your lips, humming lowly when he felt the pressure of your mouth kissing him back. His tongue glided over the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss. You joined the sway of his tongue, feeling your body heating up. Lando shivered lightly when he felt your fingers weaving into the curls in the nape of his neck.

His hands traveled over your lower back to your behind, his palms squeezing your hips before pulling you a little more forward. You whimpered softly when he kissed the corner of your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. A shiver ran up your spine when he kissed the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling and sucking down your throat while one of his hands slipped under your skirt. "We've got to be quick, my love. Another class will be here in fifteen minutes," Lando apologized. Your mind could barely process what he said as soon as his hand squeezed the apex of your thigh, his fingertips brushing over the lace edge of your panties. You hummed softly when three of Lando's fingers moved over your clothed core. The feeling of your damp panties made him twitch in his jeans, and he started to stimulate your clothed nub of nerve endings to get you soaking. After teasing you shortly, he shoved your panties aside, and you looked down at his hand.

You bunched your skirt up around your waist, watching his fingers flex and the muscles in his arms tightening when he entered you swiftly. Your head fell back with a moan, but his lips were soon back on yours to shush you. "Sssh, be quiet, babe. It's our little secret," Lando whispered against your lips, his fingers curling up against your front wall right away, his thumb circling over your pulsing clit while he created the most delicious rhythm. His fingers stimulated the most sensitive spots, and had you trembling on his desk within a couple minutes. "Such a good girl," Professor Norris praised, watching your eyelids flutter while he felt your walls getting wetter and tighten around his digits. You cursed under your breath, trying your hardest to remain silent while your orgasm ripped through you. Lando licked his fingers clean, undoing his jeans and zipping down the denim.

His underwear was pushed out of the way, and his palm wrapped around his shaft that stood tall. The girth of his cock, the veins running over them, caused your mouth to water. Lando pulled you a little more to the edge of his desk, the round head of his length briefly moving through your folds before he bottomed you out right away. There was no time to go slow, and his pace went to fucking you into his desk with a hard, deep pace that had you nearly whining under the firm grip of his hands on your hips. It was so good, it felt so amazing, raw, hot, and the fact that he's your professor and you're his student nearly tipped you over the edge right away. "That's it, love," Lando grunted lowly when your core contracted around him, walls squeezing him tight. The tip of his cock brushed over your gathering of nerve endings each time, creating the state of frenzy you floated in.

Lando looked down at your blissed out expressions, admiring the furrow of your eyebrows, and your lips parted with soft breaths. Your hands were curled around his lower arms, your nails digging slightly into his skin. The white hot pleasure washed over you soon enough, briefly blurring your vision. The throbbing of his release against your inner walls prolonged the feeling of ecstasy. Lando reached for some tissues, helping you to clean up a little before you pulled your panties up again, and you adjusted your skirt and your blouse. Lando did the same, then moved to open some windows to let in some fresh air, which caused you both to laugh. You went to get your bag, and meanwhile Lando shoved a note your way. "This is my number, in case you need some more help with your project," he said, a grin curling his lips.

"Thanks," you chuckled, taking the note with you. "Maybe we can discuss it over dinner this weekend, you can text me your availability," he continued, approaching you again while you held onto the handles of your bag. "If you want to, of course," he added, his fingers moving under your chin and gently caressing your cheeks. "I'd love to, Professor Norris," you said, your eyes flickering up to his. His jaw slacked briefly before he grinned again. "Great, good luck with your project till then, Y/N," Lando said and walked you to the door. You smiled at him over your shoulder, walking down the hallway. Lando leaned against the door, shaking his head at himself, knowing he was crazy about you whether you were his student or not.

[hpalways]

Hiii! I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if you could do a Genshin highschool au (modern au??? Idk what to call it-) and how Childe, Venti, Albedo and diluc would confess to their crush. Idk I just think it's a cute idea :)

Anyways feel free to ignore! Thanks and have a nice day! Don't forget to eat and drink water! <3

Note: sorry for how late this is but ofc!! thanks for the request and take care as well!

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Childe, Venti, Albedo, Diluc

Childe

Lost in your own world, you do not notice the red ginger waltzing his way up to the front of the class. Only when you hear audible gasps from the other students do you glance up, surprise coloring your face. 

His azure blue eyes are glued to you, mischief lining the corners of his mouth. Today his red locks are slightly gelled nicely, keeping out of his face and accentuating his features all the more. He dons his school uniform well, looking tall and confident up there, despite having everyone’s attention on him. But of course, that is just who he is as a person -- popular with the student population for being the class clown and a great track athlete with those long legs of his. 

Which is why you nearly fall out of your chair at his declaration. “[Y/N],” he called out. Pairs of eyes follow to you, making you still as a statue. “I... I really like you. You are funny and strong and brave and better of a person than I ever will be. Will you go out with me?”

The class ‘awwed’, lapping the entire scene in with excitement. You want to facepalm, thinking how stupid he is for confessing in front of everyone. What if you reject him? Goodness. He truly is such an idiot. “No,” you say. You watch his face pale for a moment and the students growing silent. Unable to hold in the laugh spilling from your lips, you prevent the awkwardness from seeping in. “I’m kidding. I like you too, Childe.”

Everyone burst into applause, as Childe hurries to you, wrapping his arms around you. Unlike before, his confidence has faded away, left with a vulnerable boy who is so relieved to not get rejected by the one he loves. 

Venti

Sunlight filter through the windows of the music room, casting a sheen past the wispy dust dancing in the air. A young boy with braided ombre locks peacefully sits on the window sill, his legs kicking forth in steady rhythm. Humming under his breath, his teal eyes dart to the door that opened up, instantly brightening up in excitement. 

You peek into the room to find the musical genius, Venti. His childlike charisma is found in the corner, his figure soft and beautiful. After having music class with him, you grew quite close to him -- he never fails to make you smile. He is different from others, a free spirit unable to tied down to anything. Never afraid to seek the thing he wants, he has pushed you to do the same. 

“You’re here,” he breathed out, soaring down from the high ledge. “Can I play you a song I’ve been working on?”

Beaming, you sit down on a chair and nod. Touched that he chooses you to hear something so vulnerable first, you are more than willing to do anything for him. He is a cherished friend -- one you never hope to let go. “Please do.”

He starts to strum the golden harp he’s holding onto, the melodic sound of it wavering into the room. He starts to sing words of no meaning, clear and pretty to match with the instrument. It mesmerize you from the bat, your eyes gluing the stunning male in front of you. His eyes are closed, but his actions were soulful, as if every note wants to say something to you. 

When he finishes, he stops you before you could clap. “Wait,” he whispers, coming closer to you, his eyes rimmed with tears. “I want to tell you a little secret. I like you, [Y/N]. A lot.”

You drop your jaw, blinking in shock at this newfound confession. For a minute, all is silent, the remnant of the song still stuck playing in your head like a broken record. Your cheeks warm and your heart race, and you realize you already know your answer to his confession. “I like you too, Venti.”

Albedo

In the quiet of the library where you can hear a pin drop, you listen to the soft ‘sha’ of the rain pouring outside of the school. It is the perfect day to study with the renown Einstein of the school, Albedo. You lift your gaze up to see him sitting across from you, crystal blue eyes peering down through his lenses. 

He has been very helpful lately, always offering to walk you through problems you are stuck on. It makes your insides flutter, taken off guard by his generosity. Stupid you are, you used to assume him to be a prick, just because he is smart. But now you know better... and the more you get to learn about him, the more you want to see him, not just for tutor sessions. 

He looks up from his textbook and you flinch back, ashamed for getting caught staring. How embarrassing. Quickly looking back down, you pretend to study, frantically scanning the unreadable letters painting on the page. You stiffen when you hear his voice. “Do you need help on anything?” he asks you. Even making his way around the table, you grow flustered when he bends down, platinum blond hair falling from his sides. 

Not only is he smart, but he is beautiful. 

He turns to look at you, inquiry coloring his features. 

“Oh!” you force out, chuckling a little. “No... I’m okay for now-- thank you though.”

He nods, yet does not leave your side, with brows furrowing in deep thought. “Well, I need help on something. Do you mind?”

Albedo? Needing help? How strange. Did the world just flip upside down. You nod in response anyway, unsure whether or not you can actually help him. 

“I can’t figure this out, but why do I feel so nervous around you?”

You pause, heart pounding so loudly against your chest you can hear nothing else. Did this mean...? He couldn’t possibly? But maybe you are too desperate not to voice out the suggestion. “Do you... like me?” you croak out. “Like... like like me?”

He does not respond for a moment, pondering long and hard about it. Eventually, he sits down on the chair next to you, nodding slightly. “I think I do. I like you [Y/N].”

Diluc

He is your bestfriend, your pillar, the one that has kept you true to yourself this entire school experience. No matter what, he is there for you, the one reliable person that hasn’t failed you once. And because he is that, you have grown to love him -- more than just a friend. 

Your arm is hooked around the redhead’s broad shoulder, his soft locks tickling you. In that usual ponytail of his, you always admired his looks, for he could pull off long hair unlike most people. Scarlet hues are trained on you, listening intently to the story you are telling him. 

Reaching your locker, you release your hold on him and begin to spin the locker combination. It clicks and unlocks and as you try to find a notebook, something else caught your eye. There, laying in the middle, is a delicately wrapped letter, accompanied by a lone rose. When did this get here? Blinking at it in confusion, you hesitantly take it, pulling at the silk that binded the thick paper together. 

Dear [Y/N],

you are my best friend, but to tell you the truth, I’ve always longed more from you. Because I have feelings for you, and you only. No matter how many years has gone and come, it has never changed. 

-Diluc

You turn to look at your best friend, disbelief coloring your expression. His head is downturn, his ears growing red in embarrassment. Holding tightly to the rose, you stand on your tippy toe to place a kiss on his cheek. “I have feelings for you too,” you breath out. 

“You do?” he echoes, his face lighting up like a puppy, yet too awkward to make a move. 

“I do.”

[sanghyukstattoos]

SF9′s reaction: you comfort them when they are exhausted and upset

Characters: Sweet guys who could only appear in your dreams 

Word count: lmao

Genres: Fluff, smut, suggestive smut 

A/N: For more works like this one, click here

Hearing the front door open, you called out, ‘’Binnie?’‘, voice distinctly echoing in the walls of the hallway. They were ghostly practitioners because your husband did not answer back. Like you, he had just come back from work, his briefcase already tossed to the side and entering the storeroom turned jacket area, he hung his suit jacket. Unlike his morning attire, his shirt was crumpled from the sleeves to the back and the belt was quickly rounded, thrown into the basket of belts. 

You watched him sigh in overall discontent, chuckling at his need to just take a day off and relax. You excitedly stretched your limbs, setting down the numerous take-out fliers you had pulled out. Your eyebrows went up and your mouth puckered in question. Looking from side to side, you wondered, what is the rush?

He had not answered your call but upon seeing you, he lit up, quickly moving towards you as a rabbit would when it is cuddled and gave you a tiny, baby peck on the cheek. You smiled in delight, walking along with him as he asked, ‘’How was your day?’’. You hummed, stating that it was hectic yet good and he agreed with the former point. 

‘‘Mine was hectic too’‘ he pouted and you caught his attention with a gentle smile, taking him in your arms and giving him a hug. He settled into your arms, the tiredness looking familiar to you. You were sure that his head was hurting. His expression was similar to when he was in a fucked-out state- hazily staring at you through those beautiful half-lidded eyes, lips slightly parted as he gazed at you, but only this time he was dreaming. 

‘‘You know’‘ he whispered, leaning into your embrace. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his chest as he rested in the crook of your neck. He did not explain any further, choosing to rest in the silence of your comfort. ‘’We should have some wine.’’ he whispered, hugging you closely. ‘’Now?’’ you asked, purely curious. He agreed and you replied, ‘’How about after we do this?’’, motioning to the bath.

You found it evident that he was fatigued, saying, ‘‘Come with me, I’ll wash your hair’‘. He happily nodded, taking off the rest of his clothes and feeling the stickiness of the day escape him. He felt less stuffier now than when he first entered the house, smelling like the office he had worked in all day. His eyes reflected greediness as he stepped into the water, making you chuckle, pleased that he was looking more handsome than ever and in good shape. 

First on your list of things to do was to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him. Passionately, your lips settled onto his, lovingly holding him in place. He was enjoying it, gently gripping at your shirt. Although he had this innocent appearance to him, the strength and endurance he had in his ambition paralleled yours, one of the reasons why you had fallen in love with him. There was little lingering, yet feeling like you could be closer. 

Sometimes, you spent your lunch with him, overlooking the pretty white blossoms cornering your building. It crowded your view of the often busy street and sometimes went bald but in your office, you forsook the working relationship you had with him. Sharing your food, plotting the evasion of your higher-ups orders- How could you explain it? It was intimate, fiery and included a tingle of the senses. (Perhaps, all of the senses?)

You wanted to love him over and over again, like watching one episode after the other, late into the night. The two of you were intimately brought together, your feelings escalating when you made love on the bed, on the kitchen counter on a lazy morning or on the sofa while watching some boring movie, sometimes switching fast sex to casual. 

He leaned back, hands quickly motioning to you, ‘’Get in here please’’. You laughed aloud, excitement filling your system like blowing air into balloons at birthday parties. He breathed out a sigh of relief as your fingers tangled in his shampoo-filled hair, white, scrubby bits everywhere, some even floating in the air. 

He was relaxed, soothed by your touches before he started giggling and playing with the water, running his hands through it and smiling at the ripples that formed. ‘’Should I join you?’’ you teasingly pondering as he pouted at you, maybe thinking, get in here? Please?. Not caring whether you were ruining your clothes, you took them off with your soap covered hands and threw them in the basket. He admired your figure and the way it was enveloped by the warm water. 

He welcomed you with extended arms and you straddled him, comfortably settling on his lap. You could not choose what to liken his smile too. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pretending to be distracted because you were unable to to contain the heat that rose to your cheeks that in turn, rose with your smile. You wanted to give him some advice which got pushed back when he began to wander your body, delicately bathing your skin with warm water. 

You paused, purely curious as he rested a hand on your ass while you were brought close to him, his lips encasing yours in a touch that evoked a heated response from you. You rose with the kiss, unconsciously grinding your hips against his tip that brushed your inner thigh. You were taken back with his unexpected actions, very much enjoying the effects.

He parted your ass cheeks, arousal flooding to your sex as it was embedded within the two of you. Every time felt congruously new, like a passionate relish of red, plump apples or biting into a ripe mango, feeling the juice trickle into your mouth, encasing your tongue in something watery yet sugary. 

He left you little to the imagination: water spilt out of the tub, rippling with fast movements. You threw your head back, heavily breathing, both of you vicarious in the feeling of sounds. You let out soft cries of pleasure while he thrusted his hips up, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching down on his member. He felt the smooth curve of your ass, grabbing it as he buried himself inside you, kissing every part of your body that was accessible to him as you held onto him, bouncing unrhythmically. 

He roamed your body, over and over again. You were lost right now, gasping, moaning, crying out in intimacy as you held onto the tub. You lifted your hip, and then in a quick, repeated motion, you met his own. You could feel him trail your legs as you got off him and faced the wall, hands slipping for grasp as he entered you from behind. He was pleased to end his day with you, to feel you around him, habiting his nearest surroundings. And for you words of advice, he was thankful too. 

Today had been rough. Inseong was swamped in how people were treating him, the intentions behind their behaviour ambiguous. So he found it vague to explain it to you or rather, find a label for it. He said that it was complicated and you understood, telling him that many things were hard to justify too, because it didn’t fit the category of direct and explainable. It was the small things that either added up or didn’t. 

Then came the pressure that followed such things. The embedded attitudes of people felt relentless. It was similar to an unjustified attack, tiring Seong out from daily routines and schedules. He had informed you of what was going on. When you asked him what his plans were, he simply shrugged, sighed and gave you a smile (keeping hopes up that it would go away). Some things did not go away unless you told them too. 

You couldn’t tell him to ‘let it pass’ or ‘ignore them’ because although it did not seem like it, those words were inconsiderate. Instead you told him to stand up for himself, in small ways, like their behaviour. You refused to see him hurt like this- partly defeated and showing easy acceptance of something that could be changed. You did your best to encourage him, lightly scolding him for keeping such a mindset in the first place. 

As he sat on the sofa, suit still on and laying exhausted in your arms, nestling into the comfort he found in you, you combed through his hair, wanting to ask him some questions. He mumbled his answers sleepily, not bothering to hide the truth from you, saying it plain and simple. As it should have been told from the start, you heard it, brainstorming of how to combat this. But both of you were equally worn out and so you accidently fell asleep in the living room, waking up hours later in each other’s arms. 

The next time, you had come home some hours after him, daylight fading into the distance but the blues had already set in, much earlier than you had thought. You remember entering the house and placing your shoes in the stand. You had placed your stuff in the bedroom, quickly changing into home clothes. All the while, the air was silent albeit the presence of Seong who had already texted you that he had reached home. 

You were happy to see him, having kissed him in a hurry to feel him on you unlike the first half of the day when you had so dearly missed him. After a good conversation, he downplayed the events in a deflating manner. The story was malicious and you did not appreciate their insincerity. They had treated him more roughly then before and it occurred to you that Inseong’s tunnel of vision had narrowed. In hope he thought that there wasn’t much for the future but you were infuriated upon hearing his story. 

You were still on for fighting back, not hitting the knees or lightly shoving. There was no sugar-coating, making the relay barren but you had wanted him to understand what you had meant. Instilling some fight into him, he had understood, swallowing your advice to find others that disagreed with this type of treatment. To find like-minded people and rid himself of his problem, once and for all. 

It wasn’t easy for him but in the coming weeks, you noticed a change- that he was happier than before. He was giddy and you reflected on previous memories, thinking that he had always managed to be happy, those people had just dampened it. Today, you sat with an unopened wine bottle, texting your friends till Inseong came home. And when he did, your phone was flung somewhere (so precious, hopefully on the sofa itself) and he took you into his arms, giving you a hug. 

You excitedly returned it back and the familiar thudding returned when you saw him smile, gummy version and lit eyes showing. Although he was tired, he was brimming with energy, agreeing to your proposition of wine and cookies. He rolled onto the sofa, throwing the covers over your thighs and leaning on your shoulders. His legs ached from the walk to get home as quick as possible but it felt worth it.

You gave him a peck, grinning as he cutely leaned in for more. The more you gave into him, the more you smiled from ear to ear. The screen of the television greeted your eyes in the bright light of the living room, heart beat steady as you embraced Seong. Bringing his hair back, you chuckled at his facial expressions that immediately relaxed, taking a sip of his wine in the process. ‘’That felt good’’ he commented, feeling the rumble of your chest as you laughed. 

‘‘Including your whole day? That sounds good’‘ you replied, cross-legged as you grabbed a cookie, Seong’s eyes tracing the crumbly deliciousness. Breaking a piece, you plopped it into Seong’s parted lips, smiling at his quick response to the melted chocolate. ‘‘It was and things are looking up’‘ he happily motioned, responded and you listened as he spoke more, entailing you to the details. You firstly felt happy, secondly thrilled that you had won, unanimously. 

You could hear someone distinctly coughing in another room, its nature echoing and reverberating and hence catching the attention of JaeYoon as well. He kept silent, not a peep from his mouth when the familiar pain affected his temples, lighting up like red lights around his eyes and cheeks, inciting him to desire a cough. 

You watched from your spot at the door, his back hunched and eyes monotonously staring at the screen. You flinched as you thought of the pain of staring into something that bright in a room so dark. As you leant against the door frame, you saw him harshly rub the pain away from his heavy eyes that would not open as far as they usually would. 

He looked like he was having trouble looking up, heavily exhaling as he tried to resist the pain. They grew stronger like the thudding sounds of boots against a wooden floor that by the second neared closer to you. 

He gets up from the table, his chair scraping against the floor as it is pushed back with sheer force of his anger, annoyance, irritation. It takes him less time than swinging a baseball bat to launch a last-minute defence than to grab the chair he sits on and fling it at the wall. He believes that no one around as he sighs, then shamefully picks it up and sits on it again, reflecting. 

You wondered what he was imagining, looking lost in thought. His cheeks turned red like the sunset, a gradient of embarrassment. What he was feeling was understood by his team members and although you were blameless, a part of your decision-making process pricked at your mind. It started to gnaw until you shooed it away, tricking you into thinking that his pain was influenced by you.

You were mindful of your perception of his situation, understanding that if you did not have the full details, you did not have the right to serve him harsh words either. There could have been more to what he had told you because he was an excellent soldier and knew how to weave tales to best fit his situation, even to his team leader. 

He knew now that you were at the door, shadow having shifted due to the movement of light. When he faced you, he settled his hair down, even though it already was- a habit he had when he was nervous. He yearned for your comfort like a hug or a few words of advice. It was not selfish of him for it was human desire and unable to breach the relationship he had with you, he settled for your praise whilst watching you from afar. 

Under your gaze, he felt nervous but his thoughts overcame him because he felt hardened to the fact that he could not change the past and knew still, that it was useless to ponder over such things. As you scanned his form, the anger he felt was irreplaceable and you felt that you could not soothe him, yet. For the kind of person that he was, you knew that he would pull through. 

You made your move to give him time, giving him one last look as you turned back and walked away. Hours later, he must have been calm, rationally thinking of the situation when you saw him in the swimming pool on the roof. Leaning against the wall, he put his phone down upon seeing you enter. You said nothing, his eyes wide and suggesting something that could not be put into a sentence. You expected him not to question and he did not, waiting for you to speak first.

As you slipped into the water, a line of goosebumps trailed your leg yet you entered without flinching, letting a wave of water swallow your body. You were engulfed and while basking in the liquid, you moved towards him, coming together for camellias and carnations presently unknown.

Warm sunlight and the mindless singing of birds filled the air like filling water into a jug. You paddled towards him, watching him stand up straight, eyes never moving below your jaw. He waited and waited till you came to him, till your face was as close to him as two threads sewn one after the other. His system was frozen, back against the wall, water still, only small ripples forming as you moved towards him. 

‘‘We can’t let someone know about this’‘ you mumbled, regretfully looking at his confused eyes. His lips were parted in question, words barely coming out as he shook his head in agreement. Unconsciously moving closer to you, you smiled, exclaiming, ‘‘Should I show you the place where everyone goes to take a break without me knowing? And you too apparently’‘. 

‘‘Did I read that wrong? Or something? I thought-’‘ he asked, clearing his head and halting your movements when you began to walk away. You chuckled, replying, ‘‘Hold on-’‘. You disagreed as you continued, ‘’No, you didn’t. I just thought it would be better to be somewhere private than here.’‘. He came to the realisation pretty quickly, turning his opinion around at the open space for a lack of privacy or none thereof in the first place. 

As he followed you, it clicked to him and he didn’t stop himself from asking, ‘’There is a place where people go to relax?’’. You laughed, pointing to some place beneath the surface of land, carefully opening the door. You marvelled in amazement when it did open, exactly as you were told, your eyes meeting his affiliating gaze based on the way you smiled in wonder. Reflective, you looked around, laughing as you caught each other turning at the same time. 

‘‘I don’t know why we haven’t been introduced to this place as yet’‘ you stated, seeing a glint of something shiny in the background. 

‘‘I agree and shouldn’t you know about this? Given where it is’‘ he motioned, pleasantly unsurprised, figuring that you had your own place to relax. As he bent down to crawl you responded, ‘’If anyone, I might be the last to know’’, drawing a laugh from the both of you at how true it was. 

The entrance was wide, allowing you to swim without hitting the sides. Lights lit the sides and you were met with a staircase, droplets cascading down your wet clothes as you stepped out of the water. Neither of you bothered to comment on the spiral staircase or the enormous dry room, filled with private corners of games, food and drinks. 

You stared at with mouths agape until Jaeyoon broke the silence. After finding a place to change into fresh clothes, you met him at the massage chairs, twined in a corner that gave you a view of the doors. ‘’Here’’ you handed him a beer bottle, asking him, ‘’Aren’t you going to switch it on?’’, looking around for a button. He shook his head, popping open the cap between the bend of his arm and taking a sip from it. 

Well, you thought, Jaeyoon’s attention turning to the buzzing machine as you relaxed, sighing in content. He was bewildered, asking, ‘’You turned it on?’’ while trying to configure the buttons himself. You met his stare, trying to playfully kick him, exclaiming, ‘’Stop staring at me, turn it on!’’, drawing a laugh from the both of you as he slipped into the darkness of the massager. You were caught in the trap of the machine, its gentle massages turning sinister. 

Your bottles were left empty handed as you felt the soothing motions of the machine. The place was appropriately sized for a team of eight people and two people had managed to occupy a small corner of it. You smiled, thinking of the room itself, trying to enjoy yourself in the moment without thinking of anything else. Meanwhile, Jaeyoon was drifting off, pleasantly lost in the idea of starting something new with you.

Sanghyuk leant on his elbow, propped up by the pillow, peering at you with ambiguous eyes. You merely hummed at his offer and a small smile tugged at your lips. This proposition of his always stood, no matter the circumstance. You thought that there was nothing for you to lose but you were wrong. And so you shrugged, tossing the covers aside and getting in beside him. 

There was a gap in between, obvious that he was treading the waters carefully. You laid next to him, not touching his arm or leg, perhaps expecting him to pull you towards him. The gap was evident, but only to the both of you. He lingered next to your fingers and you interlocked it, turning on your side as you asked, ‘‘Are you worried about something?’‘

Strands of hair flopped on his forehead as he nodded, taking in a deep breath. In doing so, he swallowed his stress and looked at you. He flashbacked to your features, expressions, mannerisms, recounting them one by one. Your breath hitched as he grasped your waist, pulling you closer till your body was touching his. 

There it was. He did not say anything, evident that he didn’t have a reason to be with you today. Unlike his usual line providing you an explanation, he chose to forgo one this time. And he didn’t need to. There had been another fall today at work but he didn’t particularly care about it. Not until he heard you say in that tone of voice, ‘’It’s all the same, it doesn’t matter’’ with that look in your eyes.

It was as if you didn’t know each other that well, that you hadn’t been sleeping with each other all this time. Like he had once heard, there is an emotional component to sex. All he had done then was nod, but then began his doubts and he wanted to know if it was true. 

If you reciprocated his feelings. You cleared your throat, removing the strands of hair from his face. ‘’Say something’’ you murmured, and he only replied by caressing your cheek and bringing you closer to him. He wanted your lips, to feel you on every part of his body and for you to pull him close and hold him and tell him how much of a good boy he was for you. 

‘‘You look like you’re in a different place today’‘ you continued and he decided that he would tell you. His heart began racing and he got nervous, shifting his line of sight to the ceiling. You sighed in frustration, leaning a distance away from him, removing his hand from yours. 

There was no rule that you couldn’t like each other, you were adults and you could sort this out as it happened. But you hadn’t known why you did not speak about it all this time. You had purposely thrown him off these days, either by telling him that you were busy and you couldn’t meet up with him or that you just were not available. And like that, what was in sight was out of mind. 

But it hurt you. To see the look on his face was painful and you could remember crying about it once. But whatever your reason was, you wanted to settle this. 

Your friend could not understand why you wanted to turn Sanghyuk down. She was in disbelief over his physique and how sweet of a guy he was and the fact that the two of you got along very well. She was proud of you for finding someone whose intentions were good, inside and out. ‘’You need to say something Sanghyuk’’ you said, reaching out for his hand. 

‘‘I’m not sure how to-’‘ he started, waving his hands in the air. But he pulled you, planting his lips on yours. And you did this thing with swinging around on your decisions. You gave in, kissing him back. It was pretty, sure, because you had kissed many times. This time, there was a confession leaning over your head and Sanghyuk did not anticipate the fact that you would accept. 

You needed to think about it. ‘’Please stop thinking so hard. Tell me. I just want to tell you that I like you. You want to say, ‘’Although, I like you too, it’s complicated’’.’’. It was a gold-mine worth of information which shouldn’t have been worth its value. As you leaned back and told him, he listened and just when you had finished he groaned out a ‘’come here’’ and pulled you into his arms. 

In three moments, he told you some statements that began to mean so much more than some cheesy lines written on a paper. Perhaps, when those lines were written, the writer had empathised with the person and then understood the deeper meaning of those lines. You realised that you hadn’t read the text properly, skimping over it. But now, you gasped in awareness, his softness and gentleness bringing tears to your eyes. 

He wiped them away, pressing a kiss to each cheek. The two of you laid there in the peacefulness of being in each other’s arms, the threads of your relationships being folded by beautifully intricate knots. When the last hours of the week had arrived, Sanghyuk was so exhausted that he fell asleep in your arms. You had been watching tv as he sat there, persistently asking to eat you out. 

You had narrowed your eyes but you then as you looked at him, you remember caving in. The yes was fairly quick. He also moved quickly onto his knees, clearing telling you, ‘’Thank you’’ before he took off your bottoms, propping your knees on his shoulders. You had tugged his hair, making him go faster as your eyes absent-mindedly trailed to his messy nose and mouth. 

You had told him how much of a mess he was making and when you asked him if he liked it, he proceeded to giggle. He ate you out multiple times, ignoring the ache of sitting on his calf muscles and only focused on you. You cleaned yourself up, making a mental note to return the favour, in another way as you tucked him into the sofa, throwing your leg over him and falling asleep like a baby. 

'’Are you feeling okay?’’ you asked your boyfriend, whose sighing was aimless, less than distinct the fatality of the sound of giving up. He was constantly running his hands through his hair. However, to take the hair out of his face he was met with the bright sunlight that the open curtains let through, shining almost everywhere apart from you. 

You were barely covered by the warmth of the high-numbered tog cover. Each part of your body was warming up, leaving with something of an uncomfortable feeling. Seokwoo was rehearsing lines in his head, too many thoughts swarming, not permitting him to concentrate. He was unaware that you were watching him, almost losing him to a daydream. 

Attention on him when he discarded his slippers, you pulled the covers over him as he settled into your side. He grumbled nonsense words that made you chuckle, lovingly caressing his cheek, losing your grasp as he smiled. You smiled back, nestling into the warmth of his arms, throwing an arm over him and kissing each eye that blinked in wondersome, secretly glowing with love too.

He laid on his back so that you were on top of him and hence, earned a giggle from you. Looking at you, he softly spoke, not vague in his indication of what he was speaking about, ‘’You know how I’ve been working all these days?’’. It was unfair, that so many people in his profession had to deal with a distinct loss of sleep and fatigue.

You hummed, encouraging him with a nod, understanding that it was building up and today, he couldn’t seem to make it work with what he had in front of him. ‘’I can’t do it- No, I can but I’m too tired right now’’ he continued, heaviness not allowing him to continue. 

As he told you the details in a soft, whispery voice and light-heartedly neutral tone, you felt a deep sense of sadness overcome you. You wanted to help him so you told him many things. There was a story of your own work, wrapping the details with a snapping recovery from previously stimulated events. All the while, he listened carefully, not saying a word, occasionally asking a question or too. The latter especially made you smile as you carded your fingers through his hair, laying your head on his chest while speaking to him.

‘‘It won’t be the defining moment of your life, ever. It always feels like it in the moment but when you pass it, you won’t look behind. And when you do, it will be because you have already encountered something so difficult. ’‘ you spoke, peeking at him humming in agreement. ‘‘How much longer do you think you’ll need on it?’‘ you asked and he sighed, lost in contemplation over the calculation of the number of days he would need for this. 

You chuckled, grasping his fingers and softly nestling against his cheek, bringing him back to reality. ‘’Should we do something instead? Maybe you can take a break for a little while?’‘ you questioned, thoughts already forming in your head. He lit up at this idea, giving one last look to the work on his desk before you tugged him along to the kitchen. 

‘‘It’s good for you, you know. Like it’s good to get out and do stuff’‘ you said with a laugh, flailing your hands arounds to try and get him to understand that you wanted him to cook. You held back your laughter as he stood there with an apron on, utensil tilted at an angle, egg almost about to be whisked and an unamused expression adorning his handsome face. 

He had not thought that he would be the one to cook! The pearly whites of your teeth showed as he looked up, sighed, collecting himself while standing in front of the counter, holding in his laughter as he heard yours float the room. He shook his head stating, ‘‘You are so sneaky? When did you even put this on me?’‘ he laughingly questioned, motioning with an open mouth of feeling startled towards the apron that he had no idea how- landed on him. 

You whole-heartedly shrugged, smiling as you grabbed a handful of chocolate cereal, dipping them one by one in Nutella. ‘’Give me some’’ he salivated, opening his mouth as you filled it. He gladly received them, moaning in delight, instantly savouring the double-sweetness of the snack. 

His cheeks moving in cute, little circles as he crunched, flipping the sizzling pancake. Leaning back, he cleared his hair from his face and you admired his bare face. ‘’More’’ he said, bringing you out of your day-dream. You were watching the way he moved, licking his lips as you asked, ‘’Should we add some Nutella to the pancakes?’’.

He excitedly nodded, saying, ‘’And some bananas and that, what is it?’’, leaving you mid-state as you collected the ripe ones, peeling them open and slicing the softness. You began guessing, ‘’Caramel?’’ to which he replied, ‘’Similar!’’. You were suspicious, adding, ‘’Are you just going along with the first thing I say?’’.

‘‘No’‘ he stated, laughing, even more so when you said, ‘‘Yea, honestly, I can’t think of anything else. What do we have in the house?’‘. The pancake almost burned before you pointed to it and in a hurry he turned it over. The both of you sighed in relief because it could be eaten. It hadn’t been too far gone for it to meet the trash. 

‘‘The thing that people drizzle on their- oh! maple syrup!’‘ he exclaimed and it clicked in your head, saying, ‘‘That! Where is it?’‘. He threw his head back, holding back a playful groan, replying, ‘‘I don’t know. I have never tasted it’‘.

‘‘It’s been in our house for decades though’‘

‘’Don’t play. How did it taste?’’

‘‘I thought that it would really sweet you know?’‘

‘‘Uh-huh, like when they drizzle too much and the whole thing is just-’‘ he expressed distastefully with his mouth.

‘’Yea! But it wasn’t. It was kinda sweet and I ended up having some more’’

‘’What did you have it with’’

‘’Bananas and buttered bread’’ and he agreed, salivating in delight.

What a cutie, you thought, getting off your seat to pinch his cheeks and make cooing noises at him, then wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his side. When you looked up at him, he leaned to give you a kiss, beautifully wholesome and restrained, warm breaths exchanging as he comfortably moved against your lips, hands mid-air but lips softly pressing against yours. The pancakes sizzled, crisping around the edges as you softly moaned into the kiss, the thumping of your heart ever present in your ears. 

Almost as far as he could grasp the situation, he was also having trouble. The trouble to walk as he would occasionally stumble, he tried not to make a habit of it. He was sweating, mini droplets of blood splattered over the right side of his hair and face. 

He chuckled, muttering an incomprehensible set of words as he looked down at his right leg. It was bleeding, viciously. The blood was seeping from out of the wound and staining his trousers and he could feel it. He could feel its pain, jolting out his dream-like state when a car honked. 

He was surprised because it wasn’t that loud as compared to other cars. The sound was almost muffled and he smiled, clutching his leg as he continued walking. He shook his head, clearing his mind when he realised that he was supposed to be catching the suspect. 

Adrenaline flew through body, almost faltering but he wouldn’t give up. Sweat greatly stained his hair, dampening it to stick to his forehead. He stumbled, catching the corner of a wall to steady himself, and then he moved on. He walked and walked, not giving up and finally, the perpetrator was in sight. 

He weakly called out for you to stop. You had just taken a rough turn and although your muscles ached, you needed to keep going. The faint rustling of the detective’s steps and voices could be heard. You ran and ran, the distinct voices of cry ringing through your mind. 

You did not hear Zuho at first. He reached out for you in the darkness of the night, lightbulbs then collided with a huge trash can. The noise echoed and you jumped back, struggling to get yourself in the blind spots of the cameras that lined the alley. 

Breathing heavily, you glared at the figure that was crouched. You only figured that it was someone drunk or high, until the headlight lit up. You were taken back, your system freezing as you viewed the fatigued face of Zuho. Through the ups and downs of your career that had been impacted by the fall of various democratic powers, the two of you joined the resistance. 

In its early stages, when there were hardly many people, you slowly climbed the ranks, proving yourself to be an asset to the growing group. Zuho, on the other hand, remained close by, not desiring to engage in the ranks of the resistance. Instead, you kept your status as his mentor, teaching him how to hone his skills. 

He looked after the house that the two of you owned, taking on the role of domestic duties till you came home from work and made love to him. When the resistance wanted to utilise all their people to the best of their abilities, he gladly took on the role of househusband, even if they did not have a job opening for him.  

‘‘Shit’‘ you muttered, walking back to Zuho. The bells rang louder, the closer you approached Zuho. His lieutenant’s badge shone in gold and you crouched, desperately telling him, ‘‘I can’t take you back. They will find out about you’‘. He moaned in pain and when you pushed back his hair, you were overcome with the need to kiss him. 

You pulled yourself back, watching from the corner of your eyes about the detectives and in that moment, he collapsed. His weight gave way and with a thud, he hit the floor. You decided not to let him die on this floor. You adamantly shouted into your receiver, ‘’Help me!’’. You heard the footsteps rush behind you, pulling you off the floor and pushing you in the direction of the car. 

As you looked back, you saw them in a co-ordinated manner pick him up. Getting into your cars, you drove away, your colleague looking back at the soldiers who were scrambling to treat Zuho. ‘’This will fuck our plans’’ he muttered, holding back tears at Zuho’s state. You weakly chuckled, eyes dropping but you fought to stay awake saying, ‘’We will see from here on out’’. 

Handling businesses on the ground made you realise that your group had more power than you thought. The workers of the law were corrupt, not all of them though. Some of them fought against these dirty workers and while some slipped into the greediness of money, some held on, even if their hands were burned off. The pain that rotted the city was terrible and you were sure that you had not seen the worst of it.   

You were received by medics of a nearby camp and you woke up, shortly before the completion of two whole days. When you woke up, you reported to your boss first, then searched for Zuho. You walked the place by yourself, not wanting to answer any questions. Although, it was nice to know that people still cared for you even after your undercover disappearance for the last six months. 

You smiled, pausing when you saw Zuho laying on the bed, saline attached to his right hand vein and catheter hanging on the other side. You showed your badge to the cards and the barcode right above your right hand elbow. As soon as they verified both, you almost slowed down, tracing the board that held his information. 

You did your best to hold back your tears, repeatedly blinking, walking and turning around. Clearing your throat, you stood up and shook your shoulders in a motion that was similar to shaking the weight off. You sat back down, leaning on Zuho’s shoulder and grasping his hand, you softly squeezed. The last of your relief washed over you and you desperately wanted the feeling to come back. 

It felt good and after so long, you knew that your battles had only just begun. You had made a mistake by bringing him here. But it was either that or he would have died by the time they had gotten him to a hospital past the civilian areas. Zuho woke up, seeing your form peaceful. He was overwhelmed, mouth dry and a groan escaped his lips causing your head to snap up. 

You handed him a glass of water, his thirst as a result of the injection he had been given. You smiled, reaching over to place a kiss on his cheek. ‘’Should I just stay with you?’’ he groggily asked, gently squeezing your hand when you smiled, placing another gentle kiss to his cheek. ‘’You should stay’’ you commented, having already chosen a plan with your commander. 

It included Zuho and all you needed was his approval on his part. You pressed the button on the control and you kicked your shoes off, joining him. ‘’I was worried about you all the time, you know.’’ you spoke, breaking the peaceful silence. He had been stationed not far from you but you could never see him. Such meetings were prohibited. At the end of every three weeks, you did meet and bask in each other’s warmth in your provided house. 

But once every twenty-one days was not enough. He always wanted to be with you but there was the risk of your jobs clashing and interfering with your work plans. ‘’I was worried about you too. It was hard not to’’ he replied, nudging your cheek with his nose. He wanted to reunite with you right now, squeezing your arm as he slid down to your waist. 

You connected your lips, running through his soft hair, grasping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Your bodies touched, the warmness exchanging in your own space. You put a hand on his chest, smiling as you leaned back, whispering in his ear, ‘’ We can’t, you have a catheter on’’. 

Only for this context was it a moment of finality and his ears almost burned when he groaned, kissing you and leaning back, throwing his head back on the pillow. Your laughs mingled and you patted his better leg, getting off the bed. ‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked, eyes curiously wide and hand reaching for your presence. 

You hummed, a bounce in your step as you said, ‘’I’ll go get some food for us’’. He nodded, pausing when you spoke up once again, ‘’I was just thinking of how to pleasure you. Think about it while I’m gone.’’, patting the wall as you left. Upon hearing you, he groaned,  letting out a small cry. The catheter was the least of his problems because it was the wound that would take most time to heal. 

He smiled at your words, looking at the direction in which you left, thinking, what a person. However, he was filled with an even bigger sense of determination. He would live and see this problem to its end. And then he would buy a house with you and have kids. He could see himself eating the food he cooked and watching tv with them all day, smiling into his dream. Your relationship was never founded from this war anyways. 

It was never torn apart because of it and you always stood by each other’s side. He decided that he would fight beside you, taking your guidance and training himself for the final war to come. He imagined a gun in his hand, pulling the trigger over the perpetrators of violence against the civilians he had spent months building trust with. 

Taeyang came home bone-tired. His shoulders ached, joints unnecessarily struggling. There was a familiar tiredness in his body, radiating throughout. It seeped into whole wavelengths and he was sure that you noticed it. And it was hard not to as he mumbled something incoherent, resting his head on your shoulder, sighing as he inhaled the smell of home. 

Secure was the feeling that surrounded him, the one he realised was the most important after being in this industry for so long. So normal were some things that many didn’t even notice how invading it was. He found that it came from his members, his family and you. To get home after a long day and not be all alone in the house. It was the knowing that saved him from rolling his eyes and falling asleep on the floor. 

You awed, snuggling into him. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, hearing him whisper, ‘’I’m too tired, we should go to sleep’’. His stomach garbled, empty from hours of burning and burning, tirelessly or passionately, easy to understand that he had some sort of fire raging within him. All that fire was laying low now, needing fuel to rage. You chuckled, grasping his hand as you asked, ‘’How was your day?’’, leading him to the kitchen. 

He nodded, giving you a thumbs up and slumping on the table. You turned around in surprise as he whined a little, telling you belatedly, ‘’There are too many things to do. I have to shower, wash up, eat and then sleep. It’s like there is a never-ending list of things to do.’’. You cracked up at his statement, drawing some chuckles from him too.

‘‘I’m just saying, you know.’‘ he said as you placed noodles in front of him. The smell was enough to wake him up as he perked up, drooping eyes being set aside. ‘’I ate, you go ahead.’’ you said, motioning to his food. 

‘’What time did you get home?’’ he asked in between bites.

‘‘Afternoon’‘

‘‘Was it tiring? How was it?’‘, he questioned, slurping the noodles.

You hummed, nodding, ‘’Tiring and we did the best that we could. Anyways, I don’t have to leave until tomorrow afternoon. So, at the office-’’.

Twirling the noodles around, he listened to your story, commenting, ‘’You did it because you thought it was best. The important thing is that now they know. They don’t have questions and stuff.’’ 

You agreed, ‘’They don’t have questions and they aren’t confused’’, continuing, ‘’The competition is tough, you must be stressed no?’’

‘‘You know what I’m worried about. Although it is the same old, even if we manage to get something out of this, I will be proud’‘.

You wowed, replying, ‘’You should always be proud of your team. It’s not easy wanting something. When your own standards haven’t been met for a long period of time, you don’t realise that you’ve been trying to achieve even the littlest of things.’’

He was silent at your statement, inquisitive to your words, gears turning in his head. ‘’Between the both of us, it will be stronger if it comes from you. Aim higher, this is the real-world so be careful of what you want.’’

‘‘Fair enough, not everyone gets what they want’‘ he hummed, washing his bowl. 

Shifting to the bed, he joined you after his shower, bouncing on the mattress with a sigh of content. Like a child receiving their favourite toy, he smiled upon meeting the comforter, its warmth hugging him. You held him to your chest and he snuggled right in, lulling to the way you carded your fingers through his hair.

The night was pleasant, enough for him to kick the covers off, speaking to you with closed eyes, ‘’This competition will keep me awake forever’’. He chuckled, continuing, ‘’I’m buzzing right now’’. 

You lolled, ‘’Buzzing? You did the most activity around today and you are still awake? That’s remarkable’’. The comment drew Taeyang to open his eyes who gently poked your side, chuckling as he commented himself, ‘’Are you asleep?’’. You hummed, throwing your leg over him and asking, ‘’What do you want?’’. 

He lay awake, pondering over your question and you literally peeled open your eyes to tell him, ‘’Sleep Tae, nothing bad will happen. You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.’’. He turned around at your statement, bringing you closer to him. You were safely tucked away in your fiancé’s arms and the two of you slept until late dawn, only stumbling in the kitchen for some lunch.               

He groaned, over and over again. Ever since he had laid down to sleep, he felt nauseous, its grip vice in his stomach and throat. He tossed back and forth, side to side, changing positions to comfort himself. He was alarmed at the sensitivity of his body, aware that something was wrong, but was unable to discern till the last moment that he would vomit. 

He released the gruesome contents into the bucket he had prepared mid-struggle. He was scared. He did not want to experience the same thing again. The pain in his throat was like stinging, but from the inside. It was like something had clawed through, letting the marks fester. He kept wondering why this was, it had never happened to him before.

He grasped his head, the pain causing him to fall back onto the bed and close his eyes. Till the pain had passed, he did not move an inch, holding still. The pain faded away and after laying down some more, he picked up his heavy bones and made his way to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

He called out to you in the darkness, cautiously entering to find you. For the type of person you were, he knew that you’d take action immediately, questions later but he didn’t think that mattered. It was more about the fact that he loved you and felt comfortable in your arms. 

He knew that it would be a heavy confession for you, if he ever got around to telling you about it. His feelings about you were big and complex, especially when he was unaware of how you felt about him. You were dead asleep, softly snoring but when a specific word like ‘’Noona?’’ floated in your head, your eyebrows furrowed and you wondered if you were really dreaming. 

Waking up with a jolt, you groggily asked him, ‘’Are you okay?’’, reaching out for him in the darkness. He shook his head and you pulled him to sit on the bed, him telling you in reply, ‘’I puked’’.

You awed, pulling him in for a hug. He looked so adorable as he said it, a small pout adorning his face, cheeks probably pink and cutely looking at you. He looked small in this moment and you couldn’t help but bring him into your arms, comfortingly running your hands through his hair while whispering soothing words of praise. 

You also could not help pouting yourself, deep sadness spreading within you as you thought of him in pain, thinking, poor baby. ‘’I should-’’, ‘’Huh?’’ overlapped as he quickly got up, starting to regret his decision to come here. You grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the bed. ‘’You can sleep here’’ you motioned, separating your pillows to give him one.  

You got into the covers, leaving half the bed for him. He opened his mouth in question and you rested on your elbow, telling him, ‘’If you aren’t comfortable enough, you can go back. Trust me, I won’t mind. It’s all the same to me’’. You cleared your throat, laying back down, regretting your last set of words. He got into the bed, thinking at the same time, Alright, it’s all the same. 

After resting for a couple of seconds, you turned around, saying, ‘’I lied, it’s not the same to me’’. He hummed, snapping his head to you, taken aback by your taking back. Exposing his beautiful gummy smile in the near darkness, he replied, ‘’Just to be clear, I feel the same way about you’’. It was shorter than he had anticipated because you had given a response he had not thought would happen.

‘‘What’s on your mind?’‘ you asked and through some small words, it became a better conversation. He elaborated himself and under the softness of the light, you curled up into each other. You snuggled in each other’s warmth, some peacefulness filling this hectic lives of yours. You pressed a kiss to his temple as he slept like a baby, keeping a close eye on his condition throughout the night. 

Chani was asleep, amongst the fluffy covers that enveloped his frame from head to toe. Snuggled with an air of warmth around him, insulating him from the slight cold of the autumn breeze, he softly snored in the midst. The clock of his sleep was ticking for almost ten hours now and so peacefully did he look as he slept that you let him be. 

After running from pillar to post and staying up for filming, he was undeniably exhausted. His eyes would not open, heavy in their mood and feeling almost like tape held them together. Prying them open, he groaned, catching your attention. The refusal of his eyes were utmost and so he shut them and laid back down, comforting himself on the pillows. You moved from your desk to the bed and you laid a hand on his chest, softly calling out, ‘’Baby?’’. 

Hearing no response, you leant over him, giving him a kiss and gently shaking him. You repeatedly whispered your nickname for him, hiding your head in the crook of his neck and snuggling into the warm space. You chuckled as he hazily groaned, words indistinct to your ears, laying a hand on your waist. 

You had just finished completing your report, thinking nonsense vacation dreams to yourself of the things you could do if you had time off for the next few days. ‘‘I’m up’‘ he noted, pulling his eyelids open regardless of how much they hurt. When he found clarity, he switched your positions so that he was facing you. ‘’Go back to sleep but I just wanted to know if you were okay.’’ you stated, placing another soft kiss to his jawline. 

His cheeks were puffed from having just woken up and he looked adorable. If you had told him that he would have asked, ‘’Why?’’ and tossed his head back and forth in playful frustration. Even then you would have found him cute. You tucked a stray hair back into the softness, admiring his sleepy form, eyes barely staying open as he lingered over you. 

‘’I won’t go back to sleep’’ he murmured, making you chuckle, knowing that sooner or later he would lay on his back again and doze into another world. He shook himself awake as you replied, ‘’It looks like you need sleep though’’ causing him to roll his eyes. He hummed, throwing a leg over you and nestling into your neck, probably still in the state where he felt as if he was dreaming. 

You kissed his neck, peppering a trail of light kisses in the same area, combing through his hair. He could feel the touch of your lips leave a trace of warmth on every spot, gently urging him to wake up. After a couple of minutes, Chani inquisitively asked, ‘’How long was I asleep for?’’ startled at the answer you gave him. He poked his head out from the crook of your neck, staring at you with open eyes as he registered the double-digit number.

‘‘I had work to do...’‘ he said, trailing off. After two seconds of debating, he plopped back into your warmth, deciding that he could do it later. Lightly pushing his shoulder emitted a groan from him, one that resembled ache. Plopping on his back, your giggle turned into concern as you asked him, ‘‘Are you feeling okay?’‘. 

‘‘My back hurts, and legs too.’‘ he nodded, playing with strands of your hair. You hummed, asking, ‘‘Do you want me to give me you an oil massage?’’. He perked up at the idea, graciously kissing you and telling you that he would return the favour.

As he sat on the bed, you admired his toned back. Squirting a bit of oil onto your palm, you rubbed your palms together and at the first touch, he relaxed. You brought both your thumbs together, rubbing in circles and squeezing the ache from his muscles. 

He moaned in delight, hands on knees as he lost himself in the pleasure. It was like the pain was evaporating from his overworked muscles. You chuckled at his noises, his soft whines escaping when you touched a particular part in the middle of his back. When you were done, you grasped his face and kissed him passionately. 

His hands wandered around your waist, tugging at the hem of your top. You giggled in delight, breaking away from the kiss, meeting his eyes. He grabbed your legs that had been straddling his waist and leaning back from planting another kiss onto your neck, he asked you, ‘’Should I do you?’’. 

You squealed as he tossed you on the bed, motioning to your top and as you took it off, he began his lustful descent, starting by him dragging the whole thing out, leaving you in beautiful shambles. 

[darling-i-read-it]

Lipstick Print

Dorian Gray x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: heavy insinuations to smut,

Author’s Note: so is this one of my favorite things ive written? Yes.

Requested: by @russian-soft-bitch, Okay, since I send 2 asks, you can choose between them. The idea with Dorian: reader met him on one of Lord Henry's parties when she was only 17 and he just moved to London. They hit it off right away but lost the contact. And then she meets him again when she's 40, married and with kids. And she falls in love again. Thank you in advance xxx

Summary: the request

Song: Extravaganza by Charlie Mole

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)(your honor im in love with him)

No one quite knew who Dorian Gray was when you first met him. He had just moved into his new home and was still being introduced to everyone. You had heard rumors about him of course. His handsome features were the talk of the ladies in town, that was for sure.

You were curious, that wasn’t a lie. You quite enjoyed a pot stirrer but tried not to get caught up in the drama yourself. That would be unladylike but more importantly, a sticky situation to get out of.

You sat in front of your vanity, fixing your hair up so that it waved just the right way. Your friend Rose was standing beside you, also doing her hair in the reflection.

“I thought you didn’t like Lord Henry’s parties. You said they were boring if I recall correctly. “

“You would be right. But I’m bored. Who knows, maybe going to see those boring old people and boring Lord Henry will make me feel less bored. Plus, I have to say I went twice before I leave London” You turned around to her, grabbing the back of the chair and setting your head on your hands. “Why are you going?” you questioned.

She shrugged.

“I always go to Lord Henry’s parties. They make me feel better about myself. And they have the most wonderful drinks there. I believe he’s an alcoholic,” she mused. You laughed a bit and shrugged. “Especially if this is your last time. Need to make it memorable.” The two of you were the young age of 18. You should have been searching for husbands but those days were long and even more boring then what you usually did. They were for the future.

You stood up from your chair.

“Well then, go on and lead the way Rose.”

====

You arrived at the party soon after that. You were stunning. Likely the most attractive people at the party, or at least the most single. You had an inkling Lord Henry’s wife didn’t like many unattached ladies coming to the party.

“I’m going to go and find some drinks,” Rose whispered to you. You nodded and then she disappeared into the crowd. You let out a small sigh. You had forgotten how truly boring these parties were. You walked through the crowd and managed to find Lord Henry, speaking with a young man you did not recognize. Henry parted so you walked over, standing keenly beside the man.

“He’s an acquired taste,” you whispered. He looked over at you. You gave him a kind smile. “I’m Y/N. I like your hair,” you muttered. He smiled sheepishly as you held out your hand. He shook it.

“Dorian Gray.”

“Oh, Dorian. You’re the talk of the town. I suppose you do live up to expectations though,” you told him kindly as you looked him up and down. “I hope no one else has gotten the chance to spoil you yet. Has Henry taken you to the parties that happen after these boring old ones?” He shook his head. “You’re lucky to not have been corrupted yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s just...rather aggressive. I won’t tell you what to do of course but I’d advise against it.”

“And what authority do you have to suggest I don’t go?” You shrugged.

“Authority of someone who was once invited by Lord Henry and wanted to leave the second I walked in those doors. Although I don’t know much about you. You could very much enjoy a place like that.”

Dorian watched your face rise and fall with emotion. He enjoyed the look of it. You were very pretty but there was a delicateness about you that he had yet to see on someone who had such a mouth.

“I may,” he told you. You stared at him for a moment, studying his features.

“No. I don’t believe you would after all.” Dorian turned around to the crowd and then looked back at you.

“Well then what do you suggest I do after this?”

“Usually I eat and go home. Rather that than be caught up in the drama of the people around here. But you Mr. Gray are a man. The drama gets caught up in you.”

“I-I very much like you,” he whispered. You smiled a genuine smile that made him recognize the other ones you were giving people were completely fake.

“I very much like you as well, Dorian Gray. Would you like to go and get some drinks with me?” He nodded stiffly.

“I would.”

====

Later that night you and Dorian sat on the steps of his new home. You hadn’t gone inside, you didn’t really need to. You just preferred the speaking to having to go inside. Dorian had mesmerized every inch of your face. He loved the way your hair moved in the wind. He could already recognize the difference between a fake and real smile on your face.

“I’m leaving London tomorrow,” you told him out of nowhere. His eyes went wide and when you saw his expression it made you think of a sad puppy dog. It broke your heart.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. This was my last hurrah at Lord Henry’s boring parties. Damn you for making my last one not boring. It’ll make me want to return.”

“I wish you could return.” You locked eyes and held each other's gaze for a moment. He had extremely delicate eyes.

“Me too.” You looked over at him and kissed his soft lips slightly. He brought his hand up to your cheek and held it for a moment. This was Dorian's first kiss in London. You would later learn it was far from his last. You pulled away and brushed his hair behind his ear.

“Are you sure you have to go?”

“I’ve already answered that question. It was a deal made months ago. I wasn’t ever going to protest it.”

“You could now.”

“Dorian, I've known you for a mere few hours.” He nodded a bit and looked down at your lap. You grabbed his hand and kissed it gently. Your lipstick mark was clear on his lips along with the side of his hand.

“What if I say please?” You laughed gently. That was a genuine laugh, he decided.

“You’ll love more than me. Much more if you’re lucky. Then you will forget all about this girl you shared one kiss with on the steps of your home after your first party in London.” He brushed his finger across your lower lip. You let him.

“I won’t forget.”

“Dear, yes you will.” You stood up. “I won’t forget you though Dorian Gray. Who knows. Maybe one day I will be in a lifeless marriage and only remember that one kiss as the one I did happily.”

He stood up quickly and grabbed your hand. You squeezed his palm and then walked away down the wet cobblestone streets of London. He sat back down on his stairs and watched you go until you were out of sight. You didn’t look back at him. He imagined it was because if you did, you would come back and never leave. He whispered it to himself as he sat there.

“Turn around. Turn around.”

=====

“Turn around!” Dorian yelled at the lady in front of him. She turned around to face him, kissing him sloppily. Dorian didn’t remember her name. He imagined he would never learn it. She would be gone and then he would see the next one and he wouldn’t learn her name either. It didn’t matter to him.

She moaned against his touch and he enjoyed it. The stimulation made him happy and he didn’t think she minded that he didn’t know her name.

It had been over twenty years since he last saw you. He thought about you every once in a while but not often. You were right. He had loved many. Perhaps you were a fortune teller, he would think. Maybe you were good at reading characters.

“Oh Mr. Gray,” she whispered. He barely even registered her voice.

After he was done for the night he crawled out of bed and threw on a robe. A woman was asleep on his sheets. He’d have to go and find somewhere else to enjoy himself. He left her alone in the room as he walked to his closet. He quickly threw something on before leaving his home.

He rode into town. The night was still young. He wondered if he should go to another pub. Perhaps he should just walk around a park and wait. He decided that he would go to another ladies home that he knew.

He walked in without announcing himself and found Rose, an acquaintance of many years waiting for him.

“Dorian, now is not a good time,” she said, standing from her chair in her living room.

“Every time is a good time my dear,” he said. He turned the corner and looked at the rest of the room.

You stood up quickly. He recognized you in a heartbeat. Your face had not aged as much as he imagined. He knew that he didn’t age but for a moment he wondered if you also had a haunted portrait of yourself, you looked that good.

“Dorian Gray,” you whispered. “Rose has just told me all about you. I suppose I was quite right when I said you would love more than me,” you said sheepishly. The shyness was new. He remembered you being quite bold.

“Y/N.” He walked up to you and almost kissed you but held himself back. Instead he just hugged you tightly. You hugged him back.

Rose watched and tried to hide her jealousy. If it had been her, he would have kissed her. Somehow the hug seemed more respectful.

“I’ll give you both a moment alone,” Rose said as she left the room. You watched her go and then gestured to the spot next to you. He sat down close beside you, holding your hand on his lap.

“How are you?” he asked. As he held your hands he felt the wedding ring on your finger. It stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Married. A mother. How are you?”

“Neither of those things,” he said, laughing a bit.

“I suppose not,” you muttered. “You seem to be having as much fun as you could manage. I don’t blame you. I wish I could still do that.”

“You can.”

“I’m married Dorian.”

“Who is he?” he asked. His voice seemed horrifically jealous. He had to retain his emotion the second he realized it.

“A man I met in Paris when I moved there. His name is Louis.” Dorian nodded a little bit and sat up straight in his chair.

“Tell me, does Louis have the same passion?”

“As what Dorian?”

“As me.” You smiled a bit.

“You’re different. Much different.” You raised your hand to his cheek and he barely reacted.

“I do parties now, not Harry. I would love it if you came.”

“I have children I can’t-” He grabbed your hand tightly.

“Come. If not for me, for old times sake.”

=====

You had to buy a new dress but you were glad you came. When you walked into Dorian’s party you had what you had been craving at age 18; chaos. Women clearly were all too familiar with him. You were willing to bet there wasn’t one woman there who had not slept with him except you. Likely even a few men. Perhaps more than a few.

You saw Dorian dancing with a couple of said women in the middle of the room. The moment he saw you he stopped and rushed over to you.

“Does Louis have this?” he asked, gesturing around.

“Louis is a frivolous man. Just like you Dorian.”

“But does he love you?” he questioned. You raised an eyebrow.

“Do you?” He grabbed your cheek expertly. Much different from the man who nervously kissed you on the steps of his home. He kissed you gently but didn’t hold back on the passion.

“Yes,” he whispered in your ear.

“How on Earth am I supposed to believe that?” He held your hand and looked into your eyes. You held each other's gaze in the middle of the room with every single person moving.

“I believe it’s the last human emotion I have left that isn’t lust,” he whispered.

He turned to walk away but as he walked you noticed a lip print on the side of his hand. Rose rushed up to you afterwards.

“What happened?”

“What’s that on his hand?”

“The lipstick print? Oh he has the first girl of the night leave a distinct print on his hand right there, every time. It’s like an honor.”

You felt your own lips and smiled.

[leviiattacks]

heyyy there, saw your requests are open. and i'm wondering maybe you could do a timeskip where everything is done and levi finally opened his tea shop. then there he met reader, and he treats them differently from other customers. thank you, hope you're having a good day.

author note :: this was kinda rushed as is most of what i post. the reader is a writer just bc i thought it would be cute and also ISTG. i wrote this entire thing thinking leviolas was such a cool name for a tea shop then googled it and saw it’s also the name of a spider so... ++ btw i have not yet double checked or proofread this because i wrote it at 2am but yeah it’s definitely not great :-) word count :: 2.4k??? somehow???

you’re sweet like honey when you first order from leviolas. you’re the same when you ask the owner for extra napkins and you remain exactly the same when you return with the intention to stick around for a writing session with a black tea by your side

something about you is attractive. that’s what levi thinks of you when you first walk into leviolas

you’re just incredibly wholesome poking your head around looking at all of the handmade pastries and confectioneries in admiration

you think the homely decor is cute and reminiscent of cottages in the countryside, the view outside the windows is beautiful and the scent of coffee alongside tea is heavenly

the pastries are beautiful and you find yourself eyeing the macrons pretty frequently. just EVERYTHING about leviolas is cute :-(

but one particular thing is especially adorable to you

and that would be the owner

when you hear his name for the first time you’re a little shocked

levi ackerman to be specific captain levi ackerman, the high ranking official who aided in paradis’ independence and freed the nation from the grip of titans

you read about him a year back in a paper or two and vividly recall the valiant title he held as humanity’s strongest soldier

he still holds the title that’s for sure but now he happens to own a tea shop

it’s slightly unusual it’s not every day you see a soldier retire and live such a plain life but you suppose the simplicity makes levi happy

honestly, if you had been through hell and back like him you too would wish to spend the rest of your days in the company of tea leaves and sweet cakes

today is a day like any other you’re sat by one of the windows and contemplating sitting in the outside seating area

the sun is shining and lands uncomfortably on your face at this angle and you may as well make your way outside

but before you can a shadow looms over you and a broad chest leans over to cover the window with dainty curtains

“you looked bothered by the light.”

oh god.

it’s him.

he’s standing there looking at you with an unreadable expression and all you can do is open and close your mouth not knowing what to say

humanity’s strongest soldier

levi ackerman

also known as the really really really attractive cafe owner you’ve been crushing on for the last few months now

seeing him up close is much more different to looking at him from the comfort of your seat or whilst you order

he’s normally got his back turned whilst collecting orders or another worker collects them as he prepares the beverages

that’s why the unexpected interaction has you nervous

you can always tell when he’s made your drink because he honestly has a way with tea leaves and you kinda want to gush about how much you enjoy it

but, no, no, no.

you’re panicking just looking at him

soft black strands of hair stick to his forehead, his undercut is oddly satisfying to stare at and he smells of pine trees which again is refreshing

“ah hahaha thank you for blocking the sun out!!”

why the fuck did you ha ha????

this is so awkward.

putting on your best front you beam up at him hoping your toothy smile doesn’t look stupid

then again it probably does because who the hell has a good toothy smile

nobody.......

levi’s gaze lingers on you but if he has anything else he wants to say he doesn’t make it known

instead he firmly nods and turns away

you’ve messed up,,

only!!! you manage to mess up even more....?

without thinking your hand latches onto the back of his blue button up and your face burns up realizing what it is you’ve done when he stiffens to a stop

as quick as your hand has grabbed onto his shirt it lets go and you awkwardly laugh again

hahahahaha

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to hold onto you so hard i was just...wondering if you could let me in on your secret.”

the random sentence is one you’ve made off the top of your head because you don’t have any real reason for holding onto him

but thankfully for you the saccharine of your voice is enough to sway levi

when he turns to see you with the same smile eagerly awaiting his answer something sparks in him

his chest feels a little funny but he ignores it

“secret?” he questions

“yeah!! your tea!! you’re really good at making it and aaaahhhh” you sigh contently thinking back on it.

“i remember when i ordered rose tea one time. you made it beautifully and the taste was infused so delicately it was incredibly soothing.”

hearing you ramble passionately about what he loves to do makes his chest feel funny again

he doesn’t know what the hell is going on exactly

but the only way he can explain it is his heart somersaulting and flipping despite him not wanting it to

despite that, it’s quite enjoyable

it’s probably got something to do with your kindhearted demeanor or the way you always manage to give him a smile when you waltz in

but levi finds himself fighting to touch you more and more as the days pass

your collar is always haphazardly done and he wants to lean in and fix it

sometimes you’ll have an eyelash on your face and he wants to lean in to swipe it away with his thumb

occasionally he stares at your hair and wants to sort it out. half the time it’s all over the place from the wind

he wants to lean in and smooth it out.

all he wants to do is LEAN IN but he sees no valid reason to

he’s lucky he’s always able to catch himself before his thumb reaches your cheek (you’re very oblivious and never notice how close he really gets)

ever since your first encounter at leviolas a few months back he’s been dragged into your world of books and lively stories

it doesn’t take you long to break out of your shell and you’re always telling levi something new

he doesn’t speak as much as you but when you coax out a story or two out of him he’s always earnest

you’ve learnt a lot through the conversations

you’ve learnt about his lost comrades, the horrible things he had to see on the battlefield, how he hopes he’ll live happy with what he has left

there are certain conversation topics he skips entirely and you respect his boundaries

you and levi are sat by a window and a comfortable silence floats between you two

it’s been four months

four months since you asked what his secret was

come to think of it he never told you what it was

he’s intently staring at you as you drink the lemon tea he’s just made you and his stare is a little too intense

feeling nervous you pick up your cup hoping for something to occupy yourself

recently the butterflies in your stomach have been increasing in number but you know it’s wrong to fancy levi

you don’t know why you think that but it’s the fact that you’re sure you’re not his type

he probably likes organised people, dependable people, funny people

not you.

you’re just an irksome author who spends your days writing in his shop

honestly he finds you annoying he has to. you’re always hanging around here

however, you do remember the one day you did choose to write in the park he thought you had died or something. that made you feel a little sad because he can’t really help but automatically worry if his routine is broken and you happen to have accidentally become part of his schedule

no, like levi’s literally said he has your name in his planner and whenever he thinks of a new thing to make you he’ll write it down with your name next to it

but still,, you’re convinced he has to find you annoying

there’s no reason for thinking it but you DEFINITELY think it’s correct

absentmindedly you haven’t even noticed levi still staring at you

“y/n?”

looking up at levi he’s clearly worried about something

humming in response telling him to continue he does

“i like someone.”

oh.

“...i’m not sure they’d return my feelings, that’s why i mentioned it.”

you smile at him warmly and you feel your heart sink, obviously he has to like someone. it’s probably someone in the corps, someone strong, someone capable. you’re not any of those things.

“well, you need not worry. if a man as good as you fancied me i’d be over the moon. i’m sure they would too!”

keep optimistic, don’t let him see you upset.

levi’s cheeks grow bright red and he bashfully tries to hide his embarrassment by covering his face with his hands

you laugh when he doesn’t budge and stays in the same position 

“c’mon levi, confess they’ll accept you have nothing to fear.” you coo persuasively

finally letting up after a few seconds he lets his arms drop to his sides.

“would you date me?”

the question takes you aback and you stare at him startled

soon realizing the idiocy laced in the inquiry he quickly retracts his statement

“nevermind, that was stupid.”

ignoring him you still want to answer

“uh well, i would. i have thought about it on occasion.”

he’s blinking rapidly trying to process what you’ve just admitted.

“you’ve thought about...?”

“dating you. yes i have.”

“and why the hell would you do that?” you can’t tell if he’s mad at you

“you’re capable, respectful. you’re considerate and quiet. i mean it you’re an amazing man really. also your tea!! imagine getting to drink it every day.”

you really have to add in the part about his tea because you know he loves it when you compliment it :-)

“ok, you drink my tea every day already.”

his short uninterested response stings and the dam of regret bursts open 

you shouldn’t have said all of that.

you and levi sit in an awkward silence for what feels like an eternity. you don’t dare look at him and your course of action is too drink your tea as quick as possible before dismissing yourself.

but before you can set your plan in motion levi breaks the ice.

“let’s date.”

you freeze and your eyes grow to the size of saucers

what did he just say???

he has to be losing his mind

“but levi what about the person you like?”

his eyebrow cocks upwards and an amused expression stretches across his face.

“i was talking about you.” he confesses boldly

this is a fever dream, nope, nope nope. you can not comprehend that this is your reality.

pinching your arm you hiss a little when you feel the pain

okay so, you’re definitely not dreaming...

“i, you, me. you...you like me?” the sentence is a jumble of words but you manage to sputter out something that makes sense

“yes. i like you.”

he’s being so blunt you can’t tell if he’s being serious but when you remind yourself that this is levi you relax, a blunt straightforward confession is meaningful coming from him 

BUT THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT

HELLO???? HE LIKES YOU BACK?%^%^”*

you get all blushy and flustered and you let out another one of your awkward hahahahaha’s but it’s a good hahahahaha

cautiously testing the waters he grabs your hand from across the table intertwining his fingers with yours

the gesture is adorable. the buzzing sensation that travels through your laced fingers makes you giggle to yourself giddily

“leviolas suddenly a matchmaking agency now? ;-)” your joke is dry and unfunny and levi rolls his eyes at it 

“you’re not funny.”

“but you still like me.” you tease

“yes. i still like you.” he admits

a few days have passed since then

you and levi have been the talk of the town 

humanity’s strongest soldier finally found his flame???

the chatter and rumors spread like wildfire, both you and levi aren’t fans of being in the spotlight but nothing negative has been said so there’s no complaints so far

levi places a cup of tea in front of you, it’s a herbal kind because you’ve been complaining about a headache

today you’re explaining why you dislike the plot of beauty and the beast and how there’s so much wrong with it. from the weirdly toxic relationship to the power imbalance. levi stands listening attentively whilst waiting for you to take a sip of the tea

just as you’ve paused to take a large breathe and prepare yourself to continue explaining how unbearable that book is levi uses it as his chance to say what he’s been wanting to 

“drink up before it’s ice cold.”

following his instructions you interrupt yourself and take a gulp of the herbal tea

your eyes glimmer in approval. it tastes of strawberries and you’re delighted already feeling your mood slightly raise in response

“it’s GREAT?? what did you put in it?? it doesn’t even taste medicinal.” once again, you’re fawning over his tea

“so levi ackerman, what really is the secret to all these perfect cups of tea?”

and without a seconds hesitation he responds.

“i was making the tea for you. that’s the secret.”

it takes a while for the gravity of his words to sink it but when the meaning does you cup his face in your palms and peck him everywhere. he whines a little but you can tell he enjoys the attention

you find that you’re more than happy you’ve found a home in levi and his shop

and levi’s more than happy he’s found a home in you and your books

:-)

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash 

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Word Count: 6,436

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.    

After the initial shock of your partner wore off, you decided spending the semester partnered with Park Jimin was, indeed, the dark sentence it appeared to be at first glance.

Jimin wasn’t happy with the situation either; that much became clear when Mr. Vlad said your name and Jimin instantly stiffened. You’d turned slowly to face him, your mind going fuzzy as you met his blank gaze.

The first two weeks of the semester had been spent wondering if this was some kind of cruel, cosmic joke. Maybe you’d been a terrible person in a past life and this was your bitter reward. If so, Jimin must have pissed someone off too, since he seemed equally perturbed by your new relationship.

Waiting in line at the water fountain, you checked the time once again and exhaled. Ballet began in five minutes and Miss Britt employed the same lateness tolerance policy as Mr. Vlad. Really, it was a blanket expectation by all the teachers at Russet. If you arrived after the door shut, you weren’t allowed in – and god forbid you missed a step the next week during barre. Motivated to avoid this, you’d arrived fifteen minutes early every day since classes started – it was hardest for 8:00 AM ballet, but that couldn’t be helped.

Once your water bottle was full, you screwed on the cap and hustled into the room with three minutes to spare. Miss Britt stood at the front beside the live pianist. She insisted on using one for all her classes, saying it was good practice for when you’d dance with an orchestra.

Arms crossed, she surveyed each student when they entered, and you hastened to stand beside Noelle at the bar. Placing your water bottle on the floor, you began to roll your neck and warm up your feet.

From across the room, you heard Jimin laugh and looked up on reflex – only to find him standing next to Sabrina.

Uncertain, you froze. You hadn’t made it a habit to follow Jimin’s movements, or even to learn more about him since your arrival at Russet. You saw him in class and occasionally on the weekends but had made it a point to keep your friend groups separate. As a result, you really had no idea what Jimin had been up to in his private time.

It seemed the answer to your question was: cozying up to the enemy. Since that first night in Grace Hall, Sabrina had proven herself to be as unpleasant as you’d feared. You’d mostly tried to steer clear of her path, but again, this was hard to achieve in a class of eighty students.

While you watched, Jimin laughed again and Sabrina smiled. She looked almost pleasant and in response to this, your eyes narrowed.

Objectively, you didn’t want Jimin as your dance partner, but he’d been assigned to you. It’d be incredibly embarrassing if he asked to switch midway through the semester. Everyone would know it was because of you and you’d have no other options when the New Year rolled around.

Faculty clarified the partner situation by the end of the first week. Apparently, only your first ballet partner at Russet was assigned. This was done on purpose, in order to get you used to working with new people, but you’d be allowed to choose your own partner starting January 1st. This was the only reason you hadn’t immediately marched to the front office and demanded a change. Clearly, this was a test of partnership. Jimin might be the devil himself, but he hadn’t asked to switch partners and you’d be damned if you gave in before he did.

On the opposite side of the room, Jimin smiled and you scowled, wondering what Sabrina could possibly have to say that he found so hilarious. In the two weeks you’d known her, Sabrina had yet to utter a joke in your presence. Suspicion clouded your judgement, since it was no secret amongst the class that Sabrina’s ballet partner wasn’t as talented as she was.

The idea that she might be after Jimin entered your mind while you watched. While you didn’t want to be Jimin’s partner, you also didn’t want Sabrina to be Jimin’s partner.

You were shaken from this thought by Miss Britt clapping her hands.

“Pliés, ladies and gentlemen!”

Miss Britt led ballet class on Tuesdays; right now, she stood at the front of the room while she waited for everyone to echo her movements.

“From first,” she said, adopting the same position. “Little breath on the intro, and – demi plié one, two. Demi plié three, up four. Grand plié five, port de bras six –up seven, eight. Rise to relevé on two! Hold three, four. Grand plié five, up six, tendu to second. Repeat!”

You followed her with half-movements, attempting to mimic her delicate port de bras. The grand plié was fast, which was tricky – you’d need to control your center as you rose from the ground.

“Start on the right,” said Miss Britt, turning around. “Skip third. I want to see you sweating by the end, everyone! Pliés should be as much effort as battements! If I don’t see sweat, we’ll do center barre again next week.”

A ripple of panic went through the class.

Center barre was a time-honored ballet tradition, loathed by all. It involved doing warm-ups in the center of the room instead of at the barre. This required additional strength and concentration; enough to cripple even the most stoic of ballerinas.

As the pianist started, the entire class inhaled and fell into motion. Hips square, core engaged, heels down, head tilted up and to the side. You let each breath you took flow through your body, mirroring the stance Miss Britt had shown.

True to her demand, your muscles were already warm by the end of the first side. Miss Britt made her rounds at the edge of the classroom, stopping occasionally to dole out corrections.

“Your back is arched, Irene!” she called. “There, that’s better. Louis, move through the motion. Save your ballistic stretching for jazz class. Good, good.”

“She’s coming,” Noelle whispered beneath her breath.

Hiding a smile, you ducked your head. Miss Britt was close – you could see her in the corner of your eye as she turned the corner, heading down your row with an eagle’s eye.

Dropping into the final plié, you struggled to keep your hips square while you rose from the ground. Miss Britt stopped alongside you, examining you for a moment before she began to walk forward. 

“Heels forward,” she said, correcting your stance. “Imagine everything rotates from the hips. Push down through the ground and out! All motion is powered by the glutes. Yes… better,” she said, begrudgingly moving on.

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck and dropped into your leotard. You knew her praise hadn’t been as genuine for you as it had been for others. Noelle glanced your way from the corner of her eye, but you continued to stare straight ahead. Miss Britt was nearby, and you didn’t want to give her another reason to scold.

As the music came to a close, Miss Britt stopped at the front and began the tendu combination. You were soaked with sweat before rond de jambes ended, only the massive amounts of hair spray and gel you had used holding your bun in place.

Barre lasted over an hour, which was longer than usual. As you and Noelle dragged your barre to the side at the end, you felt your grip slipping on the silvery metal. Trying to stay hydrated, you drank half your water bottle on the side of the room.

The water break didn’t last long – soon you were gathered in the center of the room for adagio. Miss Britt was the kind of teacher who used both hands and feet to relay the combination. You stood on the sidelines and watched; a bit dizzy from how much you’d sweated already. More water before class would’ve been a good thing.

The one positive about the adagio was it was a solo, not a pas de deux. You had ballet partnering classes throughout the week, of course, but oftentimes your normal ballet teachers assigned partner work as well.

This was why Jimin stood beside you, hovering nearby in case he was needed.

Casting a withering glance at him in the mirror, you assumed fifth position and firmly squared your shoulders. Behind you and to the left, Jimin rolled his eyes.

Jaw clenched, you decided to ignore him.

Sabrina stood on the opposite side of the room, paired with Paulo Goncalves, a talented ballet dancer – just not as talented as she was. Before you could look away, she turned her head in your direction. You winced, ready to move but then realized she wasn’t looking at you.

She stared at Jimin. Sabrina looked at him in much the same way mothers examined produce in the grocery store, taking in every angle to determine if it was valuable.

You stiffened when you saw this, unsure what to do. Sabrina’s gaze moved to you before you could blink and when she saw you, she smiled.

It wasn’t a nice gesture.

This was disarming enough that when the music began, your mind went completely blank. The rest of the class started, raising their arms overhead and you could only stare, lips parting in horror. All steps of the combination had flown from your mind.

“Développé devant,” Jimin whispered behind you.

Instantly, the steps returned to your memory. Snapping to attention, you raised both arms overhead. As you caught up to the class, you extended your right leg in the air.

Miss Britt turned in your direction, luckily not noticing your momentary confusion and when she moved on to Brian, you exhaled in relief. As the combination continued, a question mark formed in your mind, and you chanced a subtle glance sideways at Jimin.

A vague sense of confusion settled over you. Jimin had helped you, which seemed extremely out of character for a demon from the depths of Hades.

When you glanced his way though, Jimin didn’t seem to notice anything was off. He looked almost peaceful as he moved through the combination, executing the steps with perfect timing. The sight of this made your blood boil, since the combination was difficult, and he had the audacity to make it look so fucking easy.

Each line of his body radiated grace and control; he truly was remarkable, it made you nauseous to watch. The lightest twitch of his pinky was purposeful, his body held perfectly still as he stepped into arabesque.

You lost sight of him when you penchéd, catching Jimin again in the mirror when you rose. Logically, you knew he was also working hard, but it didn’t show at all. You, on the other hand, were working and looked like you were.

When the combination ended, Jimin breathed easily, barely winded, while you felt as though you’d just run a marathon.

“Y/N!”

Head whipping up, you met Miss Britt’s gaze at the front of the room. For a moment, you panicked and wondered if she’d seen your lapse after all. If there was one thing not tolerated at Russet, it was failing to pay attention.

She looked at you for a moment, as though searching for what to say and then simply said, “Square your hips in arabesque.”

You sagged slightly in relief. “I will,” you promised, but she’d already moved on.

“Irene, less port de bras. Any more flapping and you’ll fly away. Paulo – you’re lagging on your transitions. Stay on the beat. Now,” she said, turning around. “Find your partner. The next adagio is paired.”

Jimin walked forward and came to a stop beside you. You stiffened at his proximity, uncertain what to say.

He’d helped you – Park Jimin had helped and you couldn’t fathom why. For the entirety of your teenage years, Jimin had been your worst enemy; it only stood to reason the trend would continue at Russet. When he glanced at you in the mirror, you found the silence unbearable.

“Thanks,” you said at last.

Jimin turned to face you, surprised. “What for?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him as well. “You know what.”

“I do.” Maddeningly, he smiled. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Well,” you said through gritted teeth. “We all have things we want but can’t have.”

Jimin was about to respond when you noticed Miss Britt starting the combination at the front. She had one of the students from senior class helping, an incredibly talented dancer named Seokjin. Seokjin was ridiculously beautiful and equally shy. This didn’t stop half the freshman class – girls and boys – from harboring a fat crush on him.

Holding out his palm, Jimin waited until you placed your hand in his. Pulling you close, his other hand went to your waist while Miss Britt began the combination.

“Start in fifth,” she said with Seokjin behind her. “Ladies – relevé one! Hold two. Both plié three, up four. Ladies – right leg to passé and extend seven, eight. Relevé one! Hold two, hold three, four. Bring leg to attitude efface – seven, eight.”

Already, you found yourself sweating and you were only marking the steps. So far, the adagio placed heavy emphasis on the female partner, with the male only offering support. This was frustrating, since male partnering was difficult, but in a different way than for women. Men needed exceptional strength and balance to support their partner, but oftentimes it was the woman executing the more technical steps.

After front attitude, you extended your leg, pliéd and Jimin lifted you up. This required great coordination and timing – both his hands on your waist, he hoisted you into the air. Miss Britt stopped the music at this point to give you a minute to practice.

Not that this helped. While in high school, you’d done minimal partner dancing. Your studio hadn’t had any male dancers in your level; the partnering you had done was mostly female, which was a different expectation than traditional ballet.

The lift was hard and even two weeks into classes, you and Jimin still hadn’t mastered it. You kept smacking Jimin’s chin with your head when you leapt from the ground. This time was no exception – you heard the crack when it happened, a sharp pain radiating from the base of your skull. Jimin swiftly let go, dropping you on your feet.

“Ouch!” he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“Sorry!” you said, whirling around. “Are you alright?”

Jimin rubbed his jaw. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m fine. Let’s just… try it again.”

You nodded and maneuvered dutifully into position, his hands returning to the same spot on your waist. After a deep inhale, you pliéd and jumped – and Jimin immediately dropped you, your feet hitting the floor.

“What was that?” you demanded as you spun around.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Why are you asking me? You’re the one whose weight was pitched forward!”

“It was not!” Despite this, you frowned. It was possible Jimin was correct on this one. “Let’s just… do it again.”

Jaw clenched, Jimin returned to position and you tried it again. This time was passable; no one smacked anyone’s chin when they jumped and you landed on the right count, but it still felt somehow off. You were working too hard; when you glanced at Noelle and her partner, Eamon, their lift looked so effortless. Such mastery escaped you, slipping through your grasp no matter how often you practiced.

At the next water break, you immediately left Jimin’s side. Going as far away from him as you could, you drank eagerly from your bottle and relished in the silence.

Someone coughed from behind you.

Turning around, your expression instantly soured when you found Sabrina inches away. She had nary a hair out of place and for a moment, you wondered what’d happen if you messed up her bun. You got the feeling Sabrina was used to being in control.

Before you could speak, she took a small sip of water. Her gaze searched the room and landed on Jimin, who was saying something to Seokjin with a laugh.

“He’s talented,” she remarked.

Ignoring this, you drank from your own water bottle. “If you say so.”

Her gaze returned to yours, lips curled in a smile. “I do say so. You know it’s true, too. Jimin is talented, which makes me think you’re the reason you two can’t get that lift.”

Stiffening somewhat, you slowly bent to place your water bottle down on the floor. As you rose, you took a step forward and lifted your chin.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” you told her.

Sabrina’s lip twitched. “Oh. Touchy.”

“You should leave. Isn’t your partner looking for you?”

“Hm, not sure. He might not be my partner for long.”

Unthinkingly, you stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said.” Sabrina examined the nails on one hand. “It’s a pity Jimin has to be partnered with you when he could have the best dancer in the class. I plan on letting him know I’m available, if he ever wants to switch.”

“Are you seriously–”

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Both of you shut up, your heads snapping sideways and Sabrina immediately took a step backwards. Miss Britt stood before you, but how long she’d been there, you didn’t know. Desperately, you hoped she hadn’t heard the entire conversation.

Sabrina immediately turned away; Miss Britt let her go, which didn’t bode well for you. You’d been holding out hope this had something to do with your conversation, but this didn’t seem to be the case. Miss Britt watched Sabrina leave before she turned to you.

“I’d like to speak after class, if that’s alright,” she said, her voice low.

She didn’t sound angry, which made it even worse. Anger was a fickle emotion; it came easily and left easily. The calmness was worse, since it sounded like Miss Britt had something serious to say.

“Sure,” you said, managing to nod. “I’ll stay.”

She nodded and turned away, walking to the front while you stared at her back. After a moment, you shook yourself free and moved towards the center. A dull roar pounded your thoughts. Thousands of worries pressed from every side, each one more worrisome and insistent than the last.

This was it – you were finished. Russet was kicking you out. Somehow, you’d been sent an acceptance letter in the mail, but it was a mistake and you were being sent home.

When you returned to the center, you dully stood by Jimin’s side. He glanced at you curiously, sensing something was wrong.

“Are you –”

“Let’s just dance,” you said, moving to fifth position.

Jimin wisely let it go, stepping behind you to place his hands on your waist. The pianist began to play and you started the combination but the entire time you danced, your mind was somewhere else. You couldn’t help but think about what Miss Britt might have to say, each possibility you considered being worse than the last.

Things went smoothly for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Everyone else picked up on steps easier than you did; Sabrina was right about that. Jimin was a talented dancer and he had experience with partnering.

He wasn’t the problem here – you were.

Jimin was quiet for the duration of class, which was unusual. You wondered if he was annoyed by your incompetence and again, your mind flashed to Sabrina’s words. She wanted Jimin as her partner. This made you feel a bit desperate because as much as you didn’t like Jimin, it would be humiliating for him to switch on you mid-semester.

If you were in Jimin’s shoes though, you would consider it. Sabrina had flawless technique, was beloved by the teachers and would only help his star to rise. They also seemed to get along well together, unlike you and Jimin, who were constantly at odds.

Realizing this, your stomach sank. Yes – if you were Jimin, you would consider switching partners.

When the hour hand on the clock finally met the twelve, you hastily gave your applause and bolted towards your dance bag. You lingered here, waiting for class to clear out, but you couldn’t stand being next to Jimin for one second longer. Thanking him had been humiliating enough for one day.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin hesitate before he walked out. The rest of the class began to pack up, chatting with one another while they left the classroom. Miss Britt stood at the front with the accompanist, likely going over music for the next class.

Noelle also paused before leaving, but you told her to go and said you’d catch up with them later. You waited until most of the class had left and then you took a deep breath and walked to the front.

“Miss Britt?” you said, coming to a stop.

She faced you with a smile. “Ah, Y/N! Good, good. Let’s talk. You can go,” she said, dismissing the pianist.

Once she had left the room, Miss Britt again turned to you.

Your stomach twisted in knots. Now that you stood here, the worst kinds of scenarios ran through your mind. Miss Britt would kick you out of Russet; you would have to enroll in second semester at a local college. You’d have to return to your hometown with your tail tucked between your legs and all your dreams of a dance career would be ruined.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted before she could speak. “I didn’t mean to argue with Sabrina in the middle of class like that. It was unprofessional and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Miss Britt blinked. “Well, that’s good,” she said slowly. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It… wasn’t?”

A small part of you had been holding out hope that this was it. That you would get a mild talking-to and be on your way soon. 

Miss Britt was known as a strict, but fair teacher. When she wasn’t yelling corrections at students across the floor, she came across as laid-back. There was a reason Mr. Vlad was the terror of freshman students and not her. Although Miss Britt was demanding, she tended to offer dancers advice as opposed to cutting them off right away.

“Talking in class is one thing,” she said with a stern look. “I don’t need to tell you how prestigious this institution is. I’m sure other teachers have emphasized that point enough. You’re only throwing away your own time and money by not taking this seriously.”

Your stomach sank, since you did take this seriously and hated the idea that Miss Britt might think you didn’t. It didn’t seem like the right time to interrupt though, so you let her finish.

“More than that,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about your progress.”

“My… progress?”

“I understand you were a competitive studio dancer before this, Y/N?”

Warily, you nodded. “I was.”

“I thought so.” Gently, she smiled. “I remember your audition tape – impressive, I must say. Your solo was exquisite, and your performance quality was one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Hearing this, your heart began to swell with pride. Perhaps this wasn’t the terrible conversation you’d been expecting after all.

“But your ballet technique is behind the other students.”

Like a balloon popped, your chest swiftly deflated.

Miss Britt continued. “I see this often in competitive dancers, even if you did ballet in addition to other styles. People who trained as ballerinas before Russet usually have a more solid grasp of the fundamentals. People like Sabrina.”

“Ah,” you said, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“I know Miss Ernst isn’t always the easiest person to get along with,” Miss Britt said. “But she trained at our prep school before she entered the Academy. It might be helpful for you to ask her for some pointers.”

“Right.”

“Or even your partner, Jimin,” she offered, noticing your hesitance. “He’s a studio dancer too, but he trained more extensively in ballet. I don’t know if you know this, but he won the Grand Prix two years ago.”

The Grand Prix was a national ballet competition – no, not a ballet competition. It was the ballet competition. You knew that Jimin had competed and won the Classical Ballet solo category. You hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, since you hadn’t been there, but Jimin’s smugness the month after remained burned in your mind.

“I may have heard something about that,” you said at last.

“Or someone outside of those two.” Miss Britt gave you a small smile. “I do offer solo sessions, but I’m unfortunately all booked for the semester.”

“That’s alright,” you said faintly. “I appreciate the offer.”

“Of course.” After a moment, her gaze became scrutinizing. “I don’t want you to feel discouraged by this, Y/N. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to have this conversation with a freshman, and it won’t be the last.”

You nodded and hesitated. She may have intended her speech to be comforting, but you couldn’t stop the vague sense of panic which spread through your limbs. The next words out of your mouth left before you could stop them.

“But how many of those students were given an offer to the Company?”

Miss Britt paused, and you glumly realized the truth. Not many.

The Company was what this was all about, of course. Russet Ballet Company was known not only for impeccable traditional ballet, but for their recent expansion into jazz and contemporary. Only fifteen offers to the Company were given to the graduating seniors at the end of four years.

Heart sinking, you realized this meant you were at the bottom. Perhaps not in every dance style; as Miss Britt had noted, your performance quality was exceptional and you were a strong contemporary dancer, but freshman year focused on ballet.

If you couldn’t last the first year at Russet, there wouldn’t be any opportunities later for you to prove yourself.

“Alright,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Miss Britt straightened. “Find someone to train with,” she said. “Ask your classmates for help. I wouldn’t have this conversation if I didn’t believe you could do it, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, trying hard not to cry.

Seeming to realize you had enough to consider, Miss Britt nodded and stepped back to rearrange her sheet music.

“I’ll see you in class next week, then,” she said with a note of finality.

Sensing the conversation was over, you nodded and turned to walk across the room. Fingers tightening on the straps of your bag, you stared straight ahead and focused on something else. Something – anything but the terrifying idea of your dreams crumbling around you.

Coming to a stop at the water fountain again, you filled up your bottle and focused on breathing. Most of your sweat had dried, loose strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck. You screwed the cap on your water bottle, shoving this in your bag to head towards the stairs.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear the sound of your name being called until you’d nearly reached the end of the hall.

“Y/N – wait!”

Stopping short, you paused to glance over your shoulder. To your surprise, Jimin was hurrying towards you down the length of the hall. He was dressed in black sweats and a jacket, his hair still slightly mussed from the class you’d just left.

Coming to a stop before you, Jimin cracked a smile. “Damn, Y/N. You walk fast.”

“What do you want, Jimin?” 

His smile disappeared. Straightening, Jimin’s fingers played absently with the strings of his hoodie. Some of his usual haughtiness reentered his gaze.

“Why do you always assume I want something?”

“Because I know you,” you said. “That’s how we work. You say something asshole-ish, I respond with something rude and we both move on. So, come on. Out with it.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “I – wow, Y/N.”

You waited a beat.

“Was that it?” Dully, you arched a brow. “Not your best insult, Park. Anyways, if that’s all you have to say, I have to go.”

“What is your problem?” Jimin said, wonderingly when you turned to leave.

Halting your step mid-stride, you stared at the wall for a moment before you turned around. Stalking towards him, a part of you knew that deep down Jimin didn’t deserve this, but it’d been such a long day and you were just so tired. The suggestion to ask Jimin for help was the final straw.

“My problem?” you said, coming to a stop before him. “My problem is having you for a partner.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Hey. It’s not my fault you messed up in class today, Y/N.”

“Of course not,” you snapped. “It’s never your fault. Perfect Jimin, beloved by every teacher and student.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means!” Realizing how loud you were being, you lowered your voice. “You’re a guy, Jimin. It’s easier for you.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Are you… are you being serious, Y/N?”

“Oh, come on,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Are you honestly going to say you’ve never noticed? It’s easier for guy dancers. All the teachers love you because you’re a novelty. You can do the exact same thing as a girl dancer, but everyone looks at you because oo, a boy! Even your fucking center of gravity is higher than women! You have an advantage in dance, and it sucks.”

Jimin’s face had gone slightly sallow while you spoke.

“Some advantage,” he sputtered. “I never felt advantaged when I was strapping myself into a dancer’s belt before class.”

“Oh, how sad. Your penis is uncomfortable.”

“I – let’s stop talking about my dick,” Jimin muttered, his cheeks turning red. “There’s an equal number of girls here as guys, Y/N. I’m not any sort of novelty compared to you, so why don’t you let the past go? Who cares who won between us during high school?”

“Let the past go?” you repeated. “That’s a lot coming from you. You’re the one who suggested our bet in the first place.”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin frowned. “You’re the one bringing that up now, not me.”

“I’m just bringing it up to prove a point.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I even tried to collect on my winnings.”

Still facing him, you scowled. “You didn’t win.”

“Technically,” Jimin said, holding up a finger. “We said the first person to get three trophies. I got three.”

“Three trophies at competitions we both competed in,” you shot back. “I didn’t compete in the last one, so you didn’t win!”

“A technicality.”

“See!” you said, in clear disbelief. “You’re still harping on this and then you turn around and tell me to ‘let the past go.’”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Listen, Y/N. If I had an advantage in high school, it’s gone now. There’s an equal number of girls as guys here at Russet and I’m working just as hard as you.”

“Wrong,” you said. “I have to work twice as hard to get the same result.”

“That’s just not true!”

“It is! That’s the only reason you won against me as often as you did in high school.”

“Hey,” Jimin snapped, finally sounding annoyed. “Fuck, Y/N – are you being serious right now?”

“I don’t know,” you exhaled, tearing your gaze away.

Taking a deep breath, you stared at the staircase and willed yourself not to cry. The two of you were being so loud, you seriously hoped Miss Britt hadn’t heard. It would be just your luck to get in a fight with both Jimin and Sabrina on the same day.

Everything hurt. The words from Sabrina and Miss Britt continued to run through your mind and the last thing you wanted was for Park Jimin to see you cry.

“I just – have to go, Jimin,” you managed to say. “I’ll see you later.”

Pushing past him, you avoided eye contact and left him standing alone at the top of the stairs. Jimin didn’t respond, but you heard his ragged exhale behind you as you left.

Shoving open the door to outside, you pulled a sweater from your bag and wrapped this around you. Blinking in the sunlight, you took another deep breath and began to walk down the street.

Jimin wasn’t the main reason you wanted to cry, though he was a part of it. Years of tension, resentment and competition had finally led you to explode – but beneath that, there ran a current of confusion.

Jimin had been waiting for you out in the hall.

Every explanation to this that you thought of sounded ridiculous, since Jimin hadn’t seemed mad or angry when he’d first called your name. An inkling of regret swirled through you and, somewhat uncomfortably, you wondered if you’d misjudged him.

Maybe you really were the only one holding onto this dumb rivalry. It’s just that Park Jimin could be so infuriating without even trying.

He had to know men had the advantage in dance – they always did. It was obvious each time you turned on the TV and watched any dance reality show. Women needed twice the stage presence, athleticism and musicality just to get on the same stage as a guy who taught himself to pop and lock in his basement.

It was even more infuriating because objectively, Jimin was better than you and – rationally – you knew you should ask him for help. This was the logical thing to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dismiss your pride. Asking Jimin for help would be like admitting he was better and you absolutely refused to inflate his ego.

A few steps from Grace Hall, your phone dinged in your pocket and when you pulled it out, you saw Finn’s name on the screen. Rather than be elated by this, your heart sank a little. You two had made tentative plans to hang out but right now, the idea of seeing other people made you a bit nauseous.

Finn: hey, babe! Want to grab dinner tonight? My roommate is crashing at his family’s house this weekend, so we’d have the place to ourselves ;) [11:22 AM]

Your thumb hovered over the keys for a moment, wanting to say yes but Miss Britt’s words from earlier lingered in your mind. You were behind your fellow classmates. You needed a teacher, you needed a tutor and at the very least, you needed more practice.

Slowly, you typed out a response.

Y/N: Last minute practice was scheduled for tonight ☹ rain check for tomorrow? [11:23 AM]

Finn responded fast, somewhat disappointed but agreeing to your abrupt change of plans. You didn’t respond, shoving your phone in your bag to walk up the steps of your dorm.

You had lied to Finn. There wasn’t practice tonight, but you knew he wouldn’t agree with your assessment of the situation. Finn didn’t understand your world of dance, which wasn’t his fault. It also wasn’t his fault that his girlfriend had chosen such an intense career path which left little free time. Finn was a normal college student and understandably, he wanted to spend time with his girlfriend.

Once in your dorm room, you tossed your bag on the floor and slowly exhaled. Noelle wasn’t there, so you stood in the center and tightly closed your eyes. You allowed the silence wash over you, taking several deep breaths and when you finally opened your eyes, you felt a bit calmer.

The day consisted of lunch and two more classes – variations and pointe – but at the end of it all, you returned to your room and changed from your clothes. Tugging sweats and a t-shirt on over your body, you placed your leotard in your laundry and left the room.

Danley Hall was a short walk away; you’d heard from upperclassman that studio space was available on a first come, first serve basis. It got crowded at the end of the semester, when people were practicing for showcases, but it was fairly empty when you arrived at 7:30 PM.

Climbing the steps to the fourth floor, you let yourself into the first empty room you found. Setting your bag on the ground, you waited a moment before facing the mirrors.

The practice room smelled like wood, rosin and whatever cleaner they used on the glass. Outside the room the sun had begun to set, casting misshapen shadows over the floor. Plugging your phone into the speakers, you stepped from your shoes and slowly walked to the center.

As the first notes of music left the speakers, you closed your eyes and inhaled. For the first time all day, some of the tension drained from your body.

With wood beneath your feet, dust motes in the air and a familiar song on the stereo, you finally felt at home. Stretching both arms overhead, you rose on your toes and hung there a moment. When the music changed, you dropped to a lunge and let yourself be pulled by the music, your body one step ahead of your thinking.

Miss Britt was right; you weren’t a ballerina. You had no idea if you ever would be, but this was something known, this was something you were good at and something you loved. This was a moment where you came alive.

The longer you danced, the more frustrated your movement became. So much emotions swirled beneath the surface, frustration chasing each step as you danced across the floor. You tried to stay ahead of it, tried to dance beyond its reach but the emotions caught up in the end, dragging you down and swallowing you whole.

When the song ended, you found yourself breathing raggedly in front of the mirror. Staring at your own reflection, you felt your heart sink. It wouldn’t matter how much you loved this if you didn’t even make it through the first year.

After another moment, you turned and walked towards your phone. Switching the song to a classical one, you took a deep breath and went to stand at the barre.

As the first notes began, you rolled your neck and waited to count yourself in. While you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Jimin for help, that didn’t mean you couldn’t take matters into your own hands. You’d seek out other teachers, you’d find other students and you’d do this barre twice as often until you began to improve.

Opening your eyes, you began grand pliés.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil. 

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough​ 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund. 

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative 

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe! 

 He knew where she would be. 

 The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of. 

 It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day. 

 It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits. 

 It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation. 

 Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God. 

 But sometimes he struggled with just being a man. 

 Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity. 

 Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights. 

 To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness. 

 And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation. 

 Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them. 

 And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone. 

 "Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress. 

 "I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

 "Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

 Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

 "I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

 She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

 "You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

 "I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

 A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

 She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him. 

 But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.  

 "If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves. 

 "Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him. 

 "I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet. 

 The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers. 

 "Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

 She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

 "I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should. 

 Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other. 

 Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

 "Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out. 

 "Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?" 

 "Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know. 

 Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured. 

 His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of. 

 After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand. 

 "Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station. 

 "Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip. 

 They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished. 

 Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel. 

 *****

 With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York. 

 Captured by heathens. 

 Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. 

 Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils. 

 What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine. 

 When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her. 

 They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her. 

 *****

 "You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

 "There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue. 

 Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

 "They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

 "What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone. 

 Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper. 

 "You slaughter when it suits you." 

 Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

 But it was all in vain. 

 He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

 "Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you." 

 "But not you."

 "No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God. 

 There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead. 

 The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

 The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound. 

 "I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself. 

 The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement. 

 A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

 That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong. 

 He prayed his nightmares were wrong. 

 Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind. 

 The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested. 

 As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive. 

 "You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them. 

 She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded. 

 "Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

 Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding. 

 "Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip. 

 "Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him. 

 "Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal. 

 "Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze. 

 She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

 "Are they treating you well?"

 Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup. 

 And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her. 

 His nightmare coming to pass. 

 He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

 She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

 Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings. 

 "I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

 She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation. 

 Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again. 

 "Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly. 

 Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her. 

 "Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

 She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

 Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

 "Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

 "Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do. 

 At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him. 

 Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

 She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered. 

 "You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin. 

 Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew. 

 "I said leave, thrall." 

 As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away. 

 The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her? 

 "Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

 The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good. 

 "Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

 Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

 "She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

 "No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

 "You love her."

 "How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.  

 "Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

 "I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering. 

 "Aren't we all."

 He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.  

 *****

 The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts. 

 The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains. 

 Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament. 

 Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

 Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips. 

 All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

 He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets. 

 Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'. 

 He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

 As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone. 

 Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

 Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

 For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment. 

 "Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

 The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also. 

 Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

 Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

 "Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

 The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently. 

 Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking. 

 Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

 Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby. 

 He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile. 

 "He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory. 

 The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him. 

 Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize. 

 Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

 "You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

 Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled. 

 His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe. 

 Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that.