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cherienymphe · 4 years

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The Concubine (Stucky x Reader)

warnings: Royalty!AU (bring on the misogyny), eventual DUB-CON, eventual NON-CON

PLEASE DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

summary: Where there’s a king, there’s a harem, and you are the king’s favorite concubine. No other man is allowed to touch you. That is, until this monarchy becomes a diarchy and you find yourself at the mercy of two men unwilling to share.

This isn’t your typical royal setting btw. If any of you have played the interactive game, The Arcana, just imagine the setting some place like Vesuvia.

Your hip lowered in time with the final beat of the drum, and the hall erupted into claps and cheers. A slow smile spread over your lips as you looked up, eyes connecting with familiar blue ones. The king didn’t outwardly join in the praise, but by the way he leaned his arm on the chair of his throne, eyes twinkling and lips quirking up ever so slightly, you knew that he was pleased.

You curtsied, lowering your head just as he rose. You looked up at him from beneath your lashes as he waved his hand, signaling for everyone to quiet down. You only moved when he instructed you to do so, and you slowly approached him as he descended, gliding down the golden steps with a grace that only a king could possess.

“How joyous it is to have Y/N finally return to us, and with quite the performance,” he said.

There were low murmurs of agreement just as he stopped before you. You didn’t shy away from his stare, and his smirk grew. You could feel so many eyes on you, you always did, but his gaze was the only one that mattered. It was the only one that had any affect on your life.

Were the king’s gaze to stray, were his tastes to change in anyway, your life would irrevocably change. That was what had been ingrained into you since you were a child, and you knew this to be true. You had seen it before with your very own eyes. A man’s mind was as fickle as the sway of his cock. That was what your mother had told you once.

“Let the feast commence.”

His voice carried, and the attendees did not hesitate to obey. The hall erupted into loud chatter and boisterous laughter as everyone dug in. Hardly anyone paid any mind as the king reached up to rest his fingers just under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. His thumbs brushed over your skin, and you smiled.

“I’m glad you are well. I have missed you,” he murmured just low enough for you to hear.

“I’m relieved to hear that, my king. I feared that my absence wouldn’t affect you in the slightest,” you confessed.

“How silly of you. Come and fellowship beside me, tonight. You are the guest of honor, after all.”

Your fingers pressed into his skin as you wrapped your hand around his waiting arm. He led you up the steps and lowered himself onto his throne. You sat on the arm, a familiar seat to you, and ran your eyes over the men whose bellies were slowly filling with rum as giggling women tarried around them.

You smiled at the women you’d grown to love over the years, sisters of sorts. Other concubines of the king. Although, they were a bit different from you. They had the freedom to take pleasure from other high-ranking men as well. They were showered in affection, and sometimes gifts, from dozens of men in the palace. They gossiped about the men they were currently sleeping with, some of their lovers overlapping, and they’d giggle about “that thing General Anthony likes to do in bed” or “the way Lord Samuel could pleasure a woman with his tongue for what seemed like hours”.

You’d listen and ooh and aah, but you could only ever imagine the stories they shared. You had been bred purely for this life, forced to go to courses for as long as you could remember. You knew of 30 different ways to finish a man by the time you were nineteen, 3 of which without ever having to touch him, but had never put any of that instruction to use until a year later when Lord Samuel came to your door.

By the smile on your mother’s face, you had known that it was her doing. That she’d finally gotten an audience with someone close to the king, someone who could get you into the palace. She had often talked of how she’d been a mistress to the king’s father in his day before the aging man allowed her to marry a low ranking official in his army. You were destined to follow in her footsteps. You’d always known it and had long accepted it. You were never bothered by it for your mother taught you that it was nothing to be ashamed of.

The king was entranced from the very first night, and you remembered the awe in his eyes as you had lifted your head from his lap, lips stained with the evidence of his climax. His bare chest had been heaving, glistening with sweat. You’d lost count of how many times you had forced him to the edge without ever actually pushing him over. You were taught that reactions varied, some men not liking that, at all, but it seemed that the king was not one of those men.

He was almost ravenous as he gripped you, pulling you into a heated kiss before covering your frame with his own. He had taken your virginity that night, spending hours taking pleasure from your body, curious to see just what you could do. It didn’t matter that he had four other concubines already, you swiftly grew to be in his favor.

You were pulled from your reverie by the feel of his fingers drawing circles into the back of your neck. You looked at him, unsurprised to find his blue eyes already on you, a crooked smile on his lips. You returned it. His eyes were always on you, every hour of every day, it seemed. Sometimes you wondered if he even visited any of the other girls anymore. He glanced away, and your smile fell.

You thought of your sisters and the stories they told well into the night. You thought of how there were some nights when they were simply left alone, using the free time to bask in their other hobbies or each other’s company. You could no longer remember a time where you didn’t feel the constant touch of Steve’s hands on your skin.

A low sigh escaped his lips as you pressed your fingers into his shoulder, kneading the naked skin. He tilted his head back, groaning as the tension eased.

“I’ve missed these hands,” he breathed. “How heavenly they feel…”

You softly chuckled.

“You mean to tell me that your shoulders haven’t been touched in weeks? I don’t believe that… I know for a fact that Anastasia’s hands are quite gifted as well,” you murmured into the quiet room.

“Not like yours,” Steve didn’t hesitate to reply.

You chuckled again.

“You flatter me, my king.”

“What use would it do to flatter you? You’ll be spending your first night back in my bed either way. I’ve no need to lie to you…”

You hummed in agreement, a small smile on your lips. You paused in your ministrations when he reached up to rest his hand over one of your own. You looked at him curiously, but he was facing away from you, and he did not turn as he began to speak.

“I indeed have missed you, Y/N. Your touch is the only one that truly satisfies me,” he said.

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the conviction in his voice.

“It is simply my duty, one that I enjoy.”

It wasn’t far off from the truth. Despite how weary you had grown of Steve’s appetite, you did enjoy pleasing him. You were exceptionally good at what you did. You had been bred for this life, after all.

“I feared that you wouldn’t recover from the bout of sickness that had befallen you. I feared that I would have to bury you…”

Your eyes widened just a tad at that.

“Earlier tonight, you said that you feared your absence wouldn’t affect me, and I told you what a silly thought that was. I did not lie. Your presence was very much missed.”

Over the years, you’d hardly seen the king show any thing even resembling affection. Sure, he could be sweet in the privacy of his chambers, soft spoken declarations whispered into your ear while he had his way with you, but that was different. Those were just words uttered during the throes of passion.

You looked down as you continued your movements, remembering that you’d also had similar thoughts. The fever that had struck you weeks ago had come out of nowhere, like a sudden storm in the night. You had hardly been able to move, and the king had not been allowed to see you lest he get sick as well. For a moment there, you too had feared that you would die. However, as quickly as the illness came, it was gone.

You’d been holed up for weeks, seeing no one but the physician and the occasional friend or two as they brought you gifts to lift your spirits. And lift them they did. A week ago, you’d woken up bright eyed and bushytailed, but the physician wanted to monitor your condition for a few more days just to be sure.

Your hands suddenly fell as Steve rose, turning to face you. Your brief confusion bled to understanding as his eyes darkened, feeling no need to hide his desire in this private setting. His chest brushed against yours as he stepped towards you, and you held his gaze when he reached up to loosen the clasps at your shoulders. The fabric of your top brushed along your skin as it fell to the floor.

One of his hands clasped your neck, tilting your head back as he pressed his lips to your skin while the other worked to rid you of your skirt. The sound of the gold detailing clattering to the floor was deafening as you stood bare before him. The familiar feel of his hands on your skin confused you.

The king’s touch was all you had ever known. It was familiar and comforting in a way you didn’t think anyone else would understand. It soothed a part of you that you often wanted to ignore as of late. On the other hand, his touch exhausted you. The weeks you’d spent in isolation were hardly a reprieve seeing as you spent the majority of it drenched in sweat, confined to your bed. Outside of that, you couldn’t remember a single night that wasn’t spent beneath him.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he groaned before pressing his lips against yours.

You moaned into his mouth, almost tripping over your own feet as he began to walk forward, forcing you back. He only stopped when the back of your thighs brushed the edge of his lavish bed, and he turned you both. You were breathless as he sat down, eyes running over your form as he smoothed his hands over you. When they traveled upwards, approaching your shoulders, you knew what he wanted.

You licked your lips as you fell to your knees, glancing at him from beneath your lashes as you worked to release him from the confines of his pants. The sound that left his lips when you wrapped your hand around him was indescribable. A cross somewhere between a moan and a growl, and he bucked his hips. You lowered your head, only breaking the hold of his gaze when you took him into your mouth.

You heard him lean back, a choked moan escaping as you began to work your mouth over him. His fingers gripped your hair, tightly, and you found yourself wincing. You flattened your tongue anyway, gliding over him, keeping your lips sealed tight around him. You brought your hands up to wrap around him as well to reach what your mouth couldn’t, and he hummed.

You copied him, humming around his cock, and it pleased you to hear how much he enjoyed it. This was something you didn’t think you’d ever grow tired of. Sometimes your mouth grew dry, and sometimes your jaw ached, but the way you were able to reduce the king to such a begging mess sometimes made it worth it. You loved this sense of control and power it gave you.

It was never your intention but pleasuring the king with your mouth often got you many gifts. You had your own room, an abundance of jewels that you only ever wore for him, and a private bath that was probably your favorite gift of all. Sometimes Steve joined you, but more often than not, your baths were spent in solitude, a small moment to yourself with just you and your thoughts.

He came quickly, and you knew then that his body missed you most of all. You swallowed with ease, no longer minding the taste of him, and he gripped you, pulling you up into a kiss before you could get your bearings. He kissed you like he was trying to retrieve your soul, fingers pressing so hard into your skin you were sure they’d leave marks.

“Steve…”

You gasped when you found yourself on your back, and your trembling hands assisted him in undressing. His eyes were hungry, hands searching as he grabbed your legs, pulling you against him. The way his lips attacked you reminded you of that very first night, the night he’d ripped your virginity from you in a dizzying haze of pleasure.

He was hardly gentle as he slid inside of you, and you pressed your nails into his arm. His hold was tight as he began to thrust into you, as if he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips never left you, and sometimes you’d feel his tongue dart out, tasting you, committing the flavor of you to memory. Your toes curled as his skin slapped against yours, thighs shaking from the force behind his movements.

One of your hands fell to the bed, gripping the silken sheets in between your fingers as you fought to make sense of the pleasure coursing through you. Weeks you had gone without the touch of a man, without his touch, and you felt like you were being thrown back into the feeling head first. One of his hands gripped your face, pulling you into another kiss.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he whispered. “…nearly drove myself mad…”

You moaned into his mouth, and his grip tightened. You squeezed your eyes shut as your hip began to burn from where he held you.

“Did you miss me?” he demanded.

“Y-yes,” you forced out, dragging your nails down his arm.

He groaned at that, twisting one hand into your hair as he jerked your head back. He bit into your neck, hips unrelenting as he did what he wanted with your body. The king got like this sometimes, especially when he was stressed and bothered. Although you knew that your illness and absence had weighed on him heavily, something in you knew that other matters were bothering him. The way he touched you and held you and kissed you told you so.

His touch grew less harsh as the night wore on, his frustrations and fears finally waning. His blond hair was in disarray as he slowly moved his hips against yours, and you fell asleep to the feel of him kissing every spot that he’d held too tight.

You approached the familiar group of brightly dressed women as they stood behind a pillar, peering around it as their hushed murmurs filled the air. You frowned in confusion, nearing them as you struggled to see what they were looking at.

“What’s going on?”

They all turned in surprise, and they all collectively sighed in relief when they came face to face with you. A few of them even perked up, and Tatia reached out to you with a grin on her red lips, gripping your hand as she pulled you closer.

“Thank the heavens you’re here, Y/N. The king adores you! Perhaps you can find out what’s truly going on,” she said, both curiosity and fear coating her words.

“What do you mean? What’s going on?”

A few of the women chuckled, knowingly eyeing you as Anastasia spoke.

“You had quite the late start this morning, so we don’t blame you for how behind you are on the news. After all, we all know how the king can be…especially when it comes to you,” she giggled, bumping your shoulder.

Tatia hit her arm, but even she was fighting a smile.

“There’s talk…of another king…,” she finally said.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the dark-haired girl, confusion growing.

“Another king? Here?”

Was that allowed? They all nodded.

“The neighboring king if I’m not mistaken. Amara heard talk of merging armies and resources and the like. We’re still unsure as to why, but surely it must benefit us, otherwise the king would never agree to such a thing,” she replied.

You pursed your lips, stepping around them to finally look at what they were seeing. Your shoulders sagged just as you caught the backs of Steve and a strange man as they walked away. They were the same height, but the stranger’s hair was dark and luscious as it brushed his shoulders. He was darkly dressed, and the outline of his garb was gold.

You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, and soon Anastasia’s voice filled your ear.

“So…? Will you speak with him? Find out what’s truly going to happen?”

You turned to her with a small smile.

“I’ll do my best.”

The rest of them grinned, clasping their hands together as they thanked you. You turned back around with a slight frown. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that if Steve really did agree to such a thing, you all clearly needed something this other king had.

You were only proven right hours later when you finally got him alone.

“The other girls saw you today…with a stranger…”

Steve’s eyes met yours as you lathered soap into his chest. The two of you were in his bath, preparing for the night after a long day. Steam filled the large room, and the water sloshed as he readjusted himself, sitting up as he eyed you, waiting for you to continue.

“They speak of another king,” you murmured, gauging his reaction.

He didn’t respond right away, and you paused. Your eyes searched his, and you began to frown.

“My king…? Is it true?”

He hummed.

“…It is.”

You looked away, lowering the soap into the water as you stared at the wall.

“I see…”

“You sound bothered by this news,” he noted.

“It is not my place to concern myself with such matters. I’m a mere concubine,” was your response.

He laughed as he rose from the bath, water droplets flying as he stepped out. You ran your eyes over him, taking him in in all of his naked glory.

“Truly, Y/N. Tell me your thoughts on the matter. I’m genuinely curious to hear them…”

You pursed your lips.

“Do I have your permission to speak freely?”

His eyes narrowed, but he agreed anyway.

“You do.”

You licked your lips, glancing down before meeting his gaze again.

“What is it that he has that we need?”

His jaw clenched as he eyed you, lips thinning into a straight line.

“You have always been clever,” he said, chuckling without humor. “That, however, is a matter that doesn’t concern you.”

You looked away.

“You’re right. It doesn’t concern me, and I don’t know what it is, but surely this arrangement will cause more problems than it can solve,” you stated.

You’d heard the phrase ‘two heads are better than one’ often growing up, but your mother also had another one she too often used. Something about too many cooks in the kitchen. You hesitantly met his eyes again, finding him staring at you as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Pray tell…”

“What if there are more arguments between you two than there are agreements? What if you’re constantly having to change and revise things purely for the sake of compromise? You could spend more time adjusting ideas than actually executing them. This man is a stranger. We know-.”

“He is not a stranger to me. In fact, I’ve fellowshipped with him many times. We’ve grown up hunting together and preparing to take after our fathers,” he interrupted.

“I’m sorry-.”

“Do you not trust my judgement?”

“I do-.”

“Then act like it. You are doing an awful lot of questioning for someone who claims to trust me.”

His tone was harsh and clipped, and you knew that you had overstepped.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I was out of line, and for that I apologize. I simply worry…”

He sighed and approached you, reaching to help you out of the bath. He brushed his hand over your cheek, wetting the skin as he ran his eyes over you.

“You want to protect your home, your livelihood, and me… I admire that, but I am king. You are not. You were right. Worry yourself with matters that concern you,” he stated.

You nodded.

“Yes, my king.”

“Good. Now, prepare our bed, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I need to be well rested,” he ordered.

You nodded, taking a step away from him before pausing. You blinked, a sudden thought crossing your mind as you turned to look at him.

“Will we have to answer to him as we do you?”

Again, he didn’t respond right away, and after a while, you accepted that he simply wouldn’t. With a soft apology, you exited the bath. A tall figure with shoulder length dark hair weighed heavily on your mind.

The next morning found you in the garden, hidden between some tall bushes as you swayed your hips. You hummed the familiar tune as you practiced, determined to make up for the weeks you’d lost to the sudden bout of sickness. The gold bracelets on your arms clanked together on beat, and you lowered your hip in time with the final beat, a line of sweat kissing your hairline.

You were startled by a slow clap sounding from behind you, and you turned with wide eyes, the fabric of your dress curling around your legs. Your eyes met blue ones that were almost familiar to you, but not quite. His dark hair kissed his shoulders, face lightly decorated with facial hair. He was as tall as your king, and you immediately knew that this was the man from yesterday. The neighboring king. Although, you supposed he wouldn’t be just a neighbor anymore.

“That was very good.”

His voice was deep, smooth and rich in a way that was different to you. You curtsied ever so slightly, lowering your head just a bit before thanking him. He tilted his head at you.

“…and what might they call you?”

You eyed him, unsure of what to make of him just yet.

“Y/N,” you answered.

You were unsure if you liked the way his eyebrows rose, eyes lighting up as he seemed to take you in in a whole new light. He ran his eyes over you, and you found yourself taking a step back.

“Y/N…”

You nodded in confirmation, and a crooked smile fell over his lips.

“I have heard of you. Steve’s most favored concubine…”

You didn’t respond but didn’t feel a need to. This man didn’t seem to need a confirmation for that.

“I heard in the wind that no other man is allowed to touch you,” he hummed.

Again, you didn’t feel the need to confirm that for he had clearly confirmed it already. He approached you, and you studied him. He smelled of spice and the trees all rolled into one.

“I’d heard that you had fallen ill not too long ago. I am glad to see that you’ve recovered. What a pity it would have been to not have been able to meet you,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you quietly replied.

You jerked, eyes widening when he gently gripped your chin, tilting your head up.

“I am James. I missed your performance the other night it seems, but I will be sure to see them all from here on out…”

He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, and you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. He drank you in, blue eyes so similar yet so different from Steve’s. He ran his eyes over you, committing you to memory.

“I look forward to…many of your future performances.”

He stepped away and turned around, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering touch of a man who was not Steve.

tags: @sherrybaby14 @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @mcudarklibrary @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @kellyn1604 @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @readermia @jtargaryen18 @notyourtypicalrose @nickyl316h @opheliadawnwalker3 @arseofrivia @ariesmadness97 @kaithezaftig @fafulous @tessa-bl

#Dark Fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #royal au #marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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mc-i-r · 3 years

Text

He tries

Pov: Janus

Tw: major character death, angst, hint of unsymp!sides (except Remus), arguing, illusions(?), knife/stabbing mention (hypothetically), panic attack (implied), swords, all caps (screaming), language, crying, unintentioned body morphing, self deprecating thoughts, overworking, unintentional triggering of panic attack, a t o u c h of derealization(?)

Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2460

A/N: hi @imma-potatoo um I know you probably don’t know me but do you remember this post? yeah I um I wrote it so yeah here it is :)

Edit: tumbled being a bitch baby and I can't get the fuckin link to work I'm so sorry D:

Janus is a complicated creature. He always has been and, presumably, always will be. But that's what humans are, aren’t they? Complicated, fickle little things. They suffer with emotions and thoughts and actions and make their way about the world like little ants trying to please their queen. But Janus has no queen, only five sides and a human to please. He’s not even a human, only a fraction of one that’s forced to live and breathe among the ants. However, no matter what he does, no matter how much he sacrifices and works and improves himself, he just can’t please them. Like I said, he’s complicated.

It’s not as if he’s the perfect person either. I mean, all humans make mistakes right? So why should he be any different? I suppose it’s because of his function, being Deceit rarely has its perks. Sure, impersonating other sides to be listened to or get his point across most likely wasn’t the most effective way to help Thomas but...who can blame him? I mean, it’s not as if he could just pop up and immediately be listened to. Hell, Logan shows up in almost every video and even he’s not listened to! But Janus still tries. And tries. And tries. And tries. And tries.

Nothing works.

Right now, he’s trying to tell them that Thomas needs to take a break. He’s been working nonstop for the past three weeks planning videos, photoshoots, costume arrangements, events, and auditions. Needless to say, they're all a bit stressed. Janus most of all.

Changing from Deceit to Self Preservation was a major change in Janus’s life. I mean, spending years being hated and feared and hidden away from others did its damage, it's part of the reason why Janus inherited the snake traits but, finally being acknowledged that he’s real and a part of Thomas just like everyone else is was....overwhelming. Granted, nothing’s really changed. He still gets ignored, pushed around, and left out but...when those two words left Thomas’s mouth… that was all he needed. All he wanted. To just be seen. To be noticed by someone other than Remus.

It only lasted for a week.

Still, he does his job. He makes sure Thomas washes his face in the morning and drinks his coffee. He makes sure he goes to sleep, takes a shower, washes his clothes and does everything else a man in his thirties does. But throwing more and more projects in the mix means Janus gets pushed to the side, left to scream from a distance that Thomas needs to take care of himself. He’s been working overtime just to make sure Thomas goes to bed, not even worried about what time as long as his head hits the pillow before the sun comes up. Sometimes, he’s been unsuccessful. But he still tries. Even now, stressed and overworked out of his mind, he tries.

He was relaxed...well, somewhat, giving his points sparingly to not push the boundaries of his newfound acceptance too soon. He added a pro here and a fact there, trying to lead them all in the right direction. So far only Patton agrees and, given recent events, that basically means everyone else is against it. Still, Janus tries.

He’s settled in between the banister and Logan, putting him unfortunately close to Virgil who is definitely not sparring on giving him his fair amount of glares. Still, Janus endures, knowing that a break will only do Thomas good. I mean, have you seen Hamilton?

But the bickering soon turns into arguing between Roman and Patton, Janus not even daring to interject. It was surprisingly intense, the newfound hatred on Romans end and the persistent pushing from Patton coming together to explode in a bout of yelling. Janus shrank back from the noise, pushing himself further into the shadows in an attempt to hide himself. It, unfortunately, didn’t work.

“Jan, tell him that he needs to take a break!” Patton pleaded, looking at Janus with eyes that held all too much emotion behind them. He wanted to help, he really did, but…

“Oh yeah, please Janus, tell us why Thomas needs a break now that he’s finally getting work done,” Roman sassed back. Janus knew Roman just wanted to prove a point. He knew that. But the intense gaze the creative side gave him made him shudder. Roman was mad at Patton, not Janus. Still, the look of pure hatred bore into Janus, pricking his skin and making his stomach drop.

He couldn’t speak. No witty quip or sarcastic remark, not even a hiss. He just froze. He felt everyone’s eyes turn to him, waiting for a response to the very simple question. Hell, Janus had been supporting it for the past hour they had been talking about it! But now, all eyes on him and tongues ready to object, he couldn’t speak.

It felt as if the room was spinning, warping and contorting around him until he couldn't tell left from right. He knew it wasn't really happening, the real world didn’t work like that, but his brain was convinced that it was. He felt his eyes go wide and he stumbled, catching himself on the banister. He tried to hide it by adjusting his hat only to be met with a concerned voice.

“Janus? Kiddo, are you okay?” Patton, sweet sweet Patton asked, dropping the fierce gaze and tone and replacing it with a gentle question. Janus swallowed and cleared his throat.

“I’m fine, Patton, thank you for your...concern” Janus trailed off, taking a breath in between his words. His eyes started to waver in and out of focus. He gasped and stumbled again, leaning in the banister to keep his weakening body up. He heard Patton shout something, presumably his name, and rush over to him.

Too close too close too close-

Janus hissed at him, shrinking away from Patton and further against the railing. Patton paused, a flash of hurt washing over his face before he took a few steps back, holding his hands up in defense. Janus hated that look, the type of look that made you want to wrap Patton in a blanket to protect him from the world. He wanted to apologize but his throat wouldn’t work, staying stubbornly quiet as the room spun.

A sharp pain bore its way through his skull, feeling as if a hot knife was being stabbed in his snake eye over and over and over again. He yelled out and grabbed his face, kneeling over as it sent a wave of pain through his body. He could feel the others rush forwards, all ready to help the now screaming side.

Get away get away ge-

“Get away!” Janus hissed out.

He felt his body glitch, his insides morphing into something inhuman. He heard a gasp and he opened his eyes to see Patton covering his mouth, Logan furrowing his brow, Virgil staring at him with wide eyes and, of course, Roman with his sword drawn. Janus reached up to his face to feel glasses. He looked down to see a cardigan wrapped around his shoulders and draped over a light blue shirt. He glanced at Patton, confirming the suspicion that he had transformed into the moral trait.

“Kiddo...what's happening?” Patton asked quietly, patiently waiting for an answer.

Janus didn’t have one.

“I don’t kn-aaAAHH!” Janus tried to speak but was interrupted by another glitch, his voice cracking and diving deeper. He kneeled over again, wrapping an arm around his stomach. He could see a blue tie hanging from his neck and, upon sitting up, he realized he had now morphed into Logan.

“Janus are...are you okay?” Logan asked, speaking quietly and for the first time all day. Janus opened his mouth to speak when he glitched again, changing into Roman quicker than he did Patton or Logan. His mind didn’t have time to register the change before he glitched again, becoming draped in a plaid-patched jacket. He heard Virgil hiss.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Virgil hissed out, more panicked than angry. Janus began to sass back when he glitched again, changing back to his former self.

He took a breath and shook his head, leaning against the banister to support himself. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and felt his skin prickle, his scales shining as well as his discolored eye. He slowly looked up, locking eyes with Thomas.

“H-...help-” Janus whispered before he was cut off by a scream, his body morphing back to that of Patton.

He couldn’t control himself now, his body moving on it’s own accord while his mind begged for it to stop. He just wanted it to stop. His mouth opened and before he knew it, he was speaking.

“I don't know if I can believe whatever YOU tell me.”

The words left his mouth before he even realized what they were, his hand involuntarily slapping itself over his mouth to stop him from saying more. Patton looked at him with wide eyes, covering his mouth with his hands in shock. Janus could see...he could see the pain in his eyes. The hurt. The regret. Tears were already forming on the moral traits’ face, one or two of them rolling down his flushed cheeks.

“J-Janus? What…?” Patton whispered out, voice barely audible even though the room was silent.

“Pat, ple-” he wanted to apologize. He needed to apologize. But the words couldn’t come out. He glitched yet again, changing into the logical side once more.

“You’re nothing more than a glitch, a mistake in the mind.”

Logan froze solid, face blank in shock. Janus couldn’t blame him, having his own hurtful words thrown back at him would do that to you. Logan absentmindedly fiddled with his tie, staring blankly at Janus. Janus tried to reach out, to take a step and tell him that it was okay, that this was all just a big mistake and that he was sorry, but the fear in Logan’s eyes when he took a step forward was enough to know he should keep his distance. Perhaps, forever.

The bones in his back shifted, forcing his body to morph into the creative side. He leaned exhausted on the railing, looking up at Roman in reluctant hatred.

“We can’t trust him! Did you forget that he’s EVIL?!”

Romans surprised gaze turned into a scowl, his eyes narrowing at the unwilling imposter in the room. Who could blame him? Janus has barely even been acknowledged as a facet of Thomas’s personality, much less accepted and liked. If he starts changing and mocking other sides in front of them all is it really such a stretch that Roman would be on guard?

But Janus can’t stand it. Not anymore. He and Roman had come to somewhat of an agreement, both apologizing soon after the last video and working on building their relationship from the ground up. Things had been good as of late but this...this could ruin that completely.

So Janus cried.

He didn’t mean to, it just kind of...happened. The stress from the past few weeks mixed with whatever was going on currently and the loss of trust between him and Roman was enough to send him over the edge.

He choked out a sob, covering his mouth with his hand as he looked pleadingly to Roman. Praying, wishing for it to stop. He just wanted it to stop. Romans intense gaze softened, his sword lowering as the creative side was at a loss for words. Well...almost.

“Jan? Jan, what’s wrong?” Roman asked tentatively, scared of saying the wrong thing or making the wrong move. Jan appreciated him for that, always willing to look out for others no matter what. That's what made him an inspiration.

He reached out with his hand towards Roman, hoping that something would happen to make it go away. All he got in return was another glitch and a purple patchwork hoodie over his shoulders.

“N-no-” he tried to make it stop, to morph back to his old self and hide away forever. But his body didn’t hold him any sympathy, his mouth dripping out evil words.

“Even if he can tell the truth, that doesn’t mean he can be trusted.”

Virgil's eyes lit up in shock, his eyeshadow darkening as he backed up from the deceitful trait. He started shaking his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he slid down the wall. He tried to speak, his words cut off by a wave of panic.

“I-...I’m so-sorry, Jan. I-...I-” the boy in black buried his face in his hands, Roman soon rushing over to comfort him.

“I...It’s o-” Janus was cut off by a grunt as a wave of pain passed through him. “-kay. It’s okay.”

“Kiddo, are you sure?” Patton asked...scared? He was careful, speaking softly much like he did when calming Virgil down from an atta-….oh.

Oh.

Janus slowly looked up at him as his body morphed around him, changing back to his own skin. He didn’t feel real anymore, his face feeling too foreign to be familiar. He had no mask up anymore, all his emotions out there in the open for all to see. His eyes were cloudy, covered in a film of exhaustion and weakness. His skin was pale and flushed, his body shaking. He was absolutely pathetic.

He weakly looked over to Thomas, his body relying solely on the support of the wooden stairs behind him. He locked eyes with him, his stomach souring at the pity in his eyes. He opened his mouth, voice coming out in hoarse rasps.

“Oh, I hate this guy and his creepy...snake face!”

“Get out of here, Jack the Fibber!”

“Gah, Deceit! Leave me alone you slippery snake!”

“Well, your face ruined my day so we’ll call it even.”

“Why is he still here?”

“E V I L!”

One by one he repeated the words, his tears falling faster and his body growing weaker. He collapsed on his knees after the final word, clutching his chest as his breath grew sparse. He heaved in a final breath, looking around the room at each of the sides individually. He gasped out his final words, ones that would stick with the rest of them forever.

“I’m sorry.”

With that, he disappeared, his body falling limp to the floor. There were screams. Cries. Pleas for him to come back, for him to have a chance at being accepted. But it never worked. Day after day, year after year, nothing ever worked. Thomas would realize soon after that he had lost the ability to lie…

...and Janus with it.

Taglist:

@whattheremus

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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peachyqueenly · 3 years

Text

Light

When Sea Fairy meets that special someone in the dead of night, she finds a companion... and an answer to a question that long plagued her mind.

//SeaMoon first meeting idea I had!! With a sprinkle of angst.

Light was not supposed to be capable of hitting the depths of the ocean. But that light—her light—did what thousands of others could only dream of achieving.

It was a night like any other for the denizens of the ocean. And this included Sugarteara—where a wave of silence washed over the city. Everyone, from the everyday residents to the temple’s caretakers and priestesses, were resting. Only few select individuals remained on guard alongside the stone guardians that defended the city. Yes... it was all quite peaceful.

There was one resident, however, who escaped the city’s lights while no one was there to stop her. Sleep escaping her, Sea Fairy found a cliff side overlooking Sugarteara to sit at. And as her gaze fell upon the city she helped bring to life, the fairy got lost in her own thoughts. No one in the ocean could quite compare to her; the one who creates the waves, the one who gifted Sugarteara a fraction of her power in a single pearl. That is Sea Fairy... the one of myth spoken of in hushed whispers by creatures across the ocean. And yet, here she was pondering like anyone else would.

She had always considered herself satisfied in the role she played. The ruler of the seas that everyone knew but few had ever seen. Normally, secluding herself in the temples of Sugarteara and maintaining the city’s excellence through her gift. But it was nights like these—where Sea Fairy escaped the light of Sugarteara for the darkness that surrounds it—where she would wonder aloud...

“Why... do I feel so hollow?”

Sea Fairy had done what so few could ever hope to achieve... create a civilization that could perhaps withstand the tests of time. She had the power so many creatures could only dream of... the power to control and bend the oceans to her will. Yet, despite this, she felt there was something missing. Or perhaps... someone—

All it took was a single look towards the dagger that protected her. That single glance would change her life forever, though she could not have known this at the time. As, on this night in particular, her dagger gleamed with a light so bright that it took her gaze away from Sugarteara. Maybe it was her own mind playing tricks on her, but Sea Fairy had never seen something so... beautiful. Glancing around, the source of this newfound light evaded her detection. Only Sugarteara lit up these depths that she called home. Then she remembered...

Up.

When was the last time she had thought to look up towards the surface? She had little need for the other side of the water’s surface. There was only one person up there that Sea Fairy knew, and the distance between them guaranteed she wouldn’t see him anytime soon. Yet, when she finally did so, there it was. The light that had created a gleam of curiosity in her eyes. She hesitated... if only for a moment. The objective part of Sea Fairy’s mind was telling her there was no reason to leave the depths. There was not supposed to be anything up there for her. But in the end, her curiosity won out.

Gripping her dagger in anticipation, Sea Fairy began to rise towards the surface—towards that light. And as her curiosity began to build, so did the speed in which she ascended. Her mind racing with endless questions.

What could be giving off such light? Why is it so captivating? Why do I feel so drawn to it?

Why? What? Why? Why--

SPLASH

After what felt like an eternity, she broke through the water's surface. At first, she took in her surroundings. It was clearly nighttime, and it had been so long since she had seen the sky in this state... Sea Fairy had forgotten how captivating the stars could be. But even more captivating was... a voice? No, not just a voice, someone was singing.

It felt so easy to get lost in whoever’s lullaby this belonged to; so much so that Sea Fairy felt she could fall asleep at any moment. But now wasn’t the time for that. Looking away from the night sky, she shifted her attention towards the source of the sound. And that’s when she saw her.

Floating just above the water, there was another individual. Surrounded by what appeared to be tiny stars, this individual was unlike anyone Sea Fairy had seen before. She clearly was not of the sea: with a dress that dangled off the moon-like object she sat on, and a hat that just could not quite be described. And her hair... it was like she was still looking at the night sky she saw once in a blue moon. Flowing down and blending in with the countless other stars.

She was even more beautiful than Sea Fairy could have ever imagined.

But... who was this mysterious individual?

Curiosity still getting the better of her, she slowly approached the tiny nighttime concert. The soft lullaby got slightly louder as she approached. Sea Fairy tried her best to approach in such a way as to not disturb the scene before her. However, once she was in the midst of the crowd, the tiny stars seemed to notice her and flee. The fairy couldn’t help but wonder if she was that frightening of a creature, but those thoughts did not last long. The singing had stopped right when they had fled, and the world’s attention shifted from the previous song to Sea Fairy herself.

“Oh my, and who might you be?”

Sea Fairy could barely keep herself from dropping her dagger in shock. The once dazzling performer had noticed her. A beautiful pair of eyes opening just to look at her and her alone. So used to everyone knowing her but only showering her with awe and admiration, Sea Fairy was surprised by both the sudden question and the fact someone did not know who she was. She answered after regaining her composure, “S... Sea Fairy. That is what I’m known as.”

“Oh! A Fairy!” the stranger giggled, much to Sea Fairy’s confusion. “Ah, don’t mind me. You are... just not what I think of when someone mentions fairies to me. Far too kind and subdued. Nice to meet you, Sea Fairy. You may call me Moonlight”

Moonlight... the one who had shone through the darkness of the ocean. Her name was Moonlight? Sea Fairy could not stop thinking about how fitting a name it was. A light that was more powerful than her own creation had to be celestial in origin. Where and how could such a light had been created, she wondered. And why--

“... Not much of a talker, are you?”

“A-Ah!!” Once again, Sea Fairy had been lost in thought. Had she really become so used to getting lost in her own thoughts that the fairy forgot how to hold a conversation? Guess that is what happens when you are revered but not befriended, she thought. Composing herself... again, Sea Fairy answered, “I guess so... where I come from, I don’t get to talk to others that often.”

“So, we already have that much in common.” Moonlight commented as she got more comfortable on her moon-shaped throne. Though she experienced it for different reasons, Moonlight knew the feeling of loneliness all too well. Sure, those star friends kept the celestial company, but she missed the company of fellow cookies since the wizards responsible for her creation faded from history. Speaking of those star friends, she exclaimed, “Oh!! I must apologize for my Little Stars!! Quite fickle creatures they are... they normally only like to show themselves to me.”

“Oh... I don’t mind.” Sea Fairy said in response. Truth be told, it did kind of hurt initially. But there are plenty of creatures of the sea who are just as, if not more, fickle. What Moonlight had said earlier still lingered in her mind, so Sea Fairy questioned, “Wait-- ‘we’? Are you also--”

“Ah!! Don’t worry about such trivial things. Neither of us are alone now, right?”

Right... not alone. Someone was talking to Sea Fairy. No, not just talking to her, but doing so as if she was a friend and not some deified figure. Why was this so refreshing?

“...right.”

The night continued, and the two of them continued to get to know one another. Perhaps it was both of their desires for company, but there seemed to be something special blooming between the two of them. They laughed some, perhaps overshared some... but if it was just the two of them, that was perfectly fine. Sea Fairy and Moonlight could be in their own little world right now and that would be completely fine. However, neither of them could stop time. And soon...

“Oh no!!” Moonlight exclaimed, shifting her gaze from Sea Fairy to the sky beyond the two of them. Time had been at such a standstill, with just the two of them, that she had failed to notice the slowly rising sun. Dawn was fast approaching... which meant she had to go back to the city of loneliness—sorry, the City of Wizards. Sighing, Moonlight sadly said, “I... I must go back home.”

“H-Home!?” Sea Fairy exclaimed with surprise. Until... she saw what Moonlight did. “Ah... the dawn--”

“I can’t stay beyond the moonlit hours of the night... some may call it a curse, but it is how it must be.” Moonlight said with a smile, hiding the disappointment brewing within her. Here, she had just met this one known as Sea Fairy. The barely knew each other, but this was one of the first interactions of its kind she had in ages. At least she now knew there was someone she could see in the middle of the night. So...

“You do not have to go... wherever it is you need to. If it is just the sunlight that harms you, the darkness of the sea will hide you from even that--”

“Shhhh” Moonlight tried to calm the scatter-brained fairy. The gears in her mind were already working. She had grown accustomed to this kind of loneliness; however, the sudden change in pace was more than tantalizing enough for her to return to these seas. Smiling and placing a hand on Sea Fairy’s cheek, she said, “My dear fairy, this will not be the last time we see each other, I promise. I go around the world at different times; however, I will always make my way back here. One way or another. Consider this just… goodbye, for now.”

Unable to say anything initially, Sea Fairy could only lean into the warm hand caressing her face. Only now, when the two of them had to say goodbye, did she realize Moonlight finally gave her the answer to the questions she mulled over in the dark. And while she understood why Moonlight had to say goodbye, she could not bring herself to say it back. Until… she promised. Promised that they would meet again.

So, as Moonlight began to float away, and Sea Fairy resisted the urge to drop her dagger-- her lifeline-- in an effort to reach out to the fading light, she cried out, “A promise is a promise!!! I will find a way to make sure we know where to meet… a place anyone could see… a place that can reach you…”

Sea Fairy stayed above the water until Moonlight was no longer in sight. And even a little while after that; however, eventually, she knew she had to descend back into the depths. The rising sun was more than enough to tell her that. There were temple matters to attend to, and no one wanted to know what would happen if she was not there to attend to them.

However… she now had a name for hollowness she felt. And that pain would not just go away.

Sea Fairy slowly descended into the dark depths she called home. And as she did so, muttered the answer to the question that plagued her mind. And could feel the darkening of herself and her power…

“… loneliness”

Since that day, her pearl and Sugarteara weren’t as bright as she remembered. For nothing could compare to her light.

//Hello!! Peach (Katie) here!!!! I'd like to thank you for reading my work-- it means a lot to me that anyone would be willing to check out my work. Of course the lesbian wrote about the most famous lesbians in the fandom... and if you think this will be the last time you are a fool!!

If you would be interested in anything else I do (as I'm primarily an illustrator), check me out on Twitter @peachyqueenly, A03 peach_kt, and instagram @peach_kt. Thank you so much again, and I look forward to bringing everyone my next creation.

#cookie run #sea fairy cookie #moonlight cookie #seamoon

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allycryz · 3 years

Text

WOL Challenge #7: Want

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompts Here]

Early Shadowbringers spoilers, companion piece of sorts to Day 4: Outrage

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Nerys x Haurchefant

Summary: Nerys and Haurchefant’s reunion on the first. Sometimes, bodies and minds don’t cooperate and even though you’re horny and can’t keep your hands off your lover.

(Basically–I wanted to write about how things going “wrong” in the bedroom is not an indictment of your relationship. Sometimes there are a million little factors that get in the way.)

They cannot leave Eulmore fast enough.

Neither speaks as they hasten over dirt roads and dry, brittle grass. Gatetown grows smaller and smaller but somehow, the tiered city only looms more. When will they send someone to hunt them? The way those girls in harlequin motley moved–Nerys saw the training in it. Should they need to, that pair can kill. And quickly.

Reason prevails by the third hill along with the chilling memory of the singer. Her patron’s promise of ascension. She’d had an uneasy feeling before and now, after seeing the tame sin eaters in Vauthry’s chamber…

“They don’t kill where others will see,” Nerys says aloud. “Into the sea or fed to their monsters. I think we’ll be alright.”

“...Twelve preserve,” Alphinaud murmurs. “I knew there was something terribly wrong, but I had no real notion. It’s the one place the Exarch hasn’t sent spies.”

“That is telling. About their security and about what could wait inside.”

Alphinaud scrubs a hand over his face. A rare nervous gesture for him, even in front of close friends. He strives to appear cool and calculating in all things. She clasps his shoulder and squeezes. “We’ll figure this out, Alphi. How to help them.”

He huffs a laugh. “Do you know...I actually missed you calling me that.”

“You didn’t like it before? I’m so sorry, I would never have-”

“No, no, please Nerys. I didn’t dislike it so much as...felt it was undignified. But now?” He looks up at her. Smiles. “I’m glad to be with my friend again, and I want her to use it.”

“Alright,” she grins back. Grateful for the spot of warmth after the utter horror behind them. “But if I ever do anything-”

A shadow falls over them.

Nerys’ gaze jerks up as she reaches for her lance. Not a sin eater but something coming from the monstrous cliffs, circling once. Twice. And then it dives down towards them.

Her thighs and calves sing in anticipation, ready to leap. Beside her, Alphinaud murmurs a spell. The dark shape becomes the silhouette of an amaro, becomes a more defined beast, and the rider–

The rider yells something. Unintelligible, and then not. It is her name. It is her name and the voice is–and the rider is–

“Nerys!” He calls again. His blue cape streams behind him as the amaro dives. Unceasing light gleams against his golden armor. To her eye, he looks like a hero summoned out of an ancient tale to offer aid.

“Haurchefant!” She rushes forward and he jumps from his mount, the beast landing seconds later. It’s not clear who touches who first–her arms thrown about his neck, his about her waist. He lifts her off the ground and spins her about, his laughter the purest music to her ears.

Nerys cradles her leather-clad hand against his cheek and kisses him. It has only been weeks for her, but losing him atop everything else had near broken her.

For him, it has been two years. No wonder he kisses her so fiercely, so deeply, the rest of the world falls away. She feels him tremble against her. Tears fall down his cheek.

“My Haurchefant,” she says, wiping beneath his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I’ve ached to see you again.” And then he resumes their kiss, crushing her tight against him. It’s possible he will never let her go again. It’s possible she won’t either.

At last he lifts his head and turns to Alphinaud, eyes bright and shining. The young man pointedly watches the ocean with red cheeks. “Good to see you, Alphinaud. It’s been an age.”

“Yes.” Alphinaud clears his throat. “I wasn’t aware you were around?”

“Mm. Playing the diplomat in the settlements above. You can only get there by amaro.” He gestures to his mount. “Luckily, I’m allowed to partner with Yami when I need wings.”

The amaro in question grants them an unimpressed yawn and turns to sniff at the brush and dirt.

“I was only told you were on a covert mission,” says Nerys, arms staying firmly about his waist.

“And so I was. No doubt Eulmore would be displeased to learn of any alliance that doesn’t funnel more bodies their way.”

At that, Nerys shudders. Does he have any idea how right he is? The grim expression says he might. “But you two seemed set out for somewhere. May I offer my aid?”

“We’re for Cracked Shell Beach,” says Alphinuad. “Our rides await us to return to the Crystarium. It is best that we don’t linger here overlong.”

“It’s safe to say we’re not welcome back to Eulmore.” Nerys tries to keep her tone light. Her right hand clenches and then flexes, directing the tension out of her.

“Say no more.” He brushes his lips against her forehead. “To the beach then. Once you debrief, we will catch up.”

“Indeed.” Alphinaud begins walking again. “If you’ll forgive the turn of phrase, it has been an extremely long day for the both of us.”

“Forgiven,” says Haurchefant with a glance at the undying light above. He clicks his tongue and Yami leaves his foraging to stand beside him. Elezen and beast escort them to the shore.

Nerys feels some of the dread and horror eke away as they walk, their hands brushing against one another.

A long day indeed. Their report takes time, weaving the state of Stilltide and Wright into all the details they might remember from Eulmore. The harlequins, the meol, the singer, the entitled lord surrounded by Sin Eaters. Haurchefant is a steady presence at her side, his hand pressed against the small of her back.

Alphinaud’s findings are more limited, having been occupied with the Chais. But with pen and paper he is able to sketch near accurate renditions of the layout and positions of the guards. He recalls the naivete of some servants versus the abject fear he witnessed in the shopkeepers and merchants. Those people were not beholden to individuals with fickle tastes. How many servants had they seen come and go?

“Tomorrow,” says Nerys. “I’ll find Alisaie. As it stands, I need some rest before I leave again.”

“Of course, of course.” The Crystal Exarch nods. “I’ve arranged a suite for you at the Pendants. Pray, go eat and rest. Just tell the Manager your name and he’ll take care of things.”

She nods. “Thank you. Haurchefant, I’ll tell them to expect you?”

“Yes, love.” He kisses her, chaste and gentle before their audience. “I won’t make you wait too long.”

As promised, the Manager brings her to one of the largest suites she has ever seen. Far larger than some apartments in Revenant’s Toll. She must look like a fish, gaping as she does. He smiles and rises to every inch of his considerable height.

“The Exarch asked for my best, dare I assume you like it?”

“I do,” she says, walking over to the long dining table. Nerys could easily host a supper party here. “May I trouble you for the time?”

Her chronometer is wildly out of sync with this timestream. On her way here, the streets had seemed more empty but a city rarely sleeps. A truth both here and the Source.

The Manager glances at his own device. “Fifteen minutes past the eleventh bell. We keep the shutters closed for our new guests but they are free to open them as they like. Can I get you anything?”

“It looks like there is plenty of food and drink for the next few days. Ah, my companion Lord Haurchefant will come through shortly. He’s allowed to know where my room is.”

“Oh! That’s right, he is another from the Exarch’s homeland…” The man looks thoughtful. “Such a nice man, from what I remember. I’ll point him in the right direction.”

Blessedly, he does not linger. Nerys immediately avails herself of the restroom and then strips off her leathers. She is unbelievably parched and feels dirty, despite her mandatory shower at Eulmore. The perfume they provided is still too cloying upon her. First will be another rinse, and then drinking a carafe’s worth of water to make her feel whole again.

It hasn’t been that long for her since she saw him. Not really. They had been separated far longer–during the campaigns in Ala Mhigo and Doma. But that had been different. She knew he was safe in Thanalan, under Urianger’s watchful eye. He had fought during their final push, that harrowing night with Zenos and Shinryu. Even then–it was different knowing he battled alongside Aymeric and Lucia.

But when Maxima returned with him as still and waxen as the others, breathing but unresponsive…

Something broke in her that day, against the Ascian wearing Zenos’ corpse. It was not one thing but likely a host of cracks and fissures from near-constant struggle and battle. But if there was one moment that started the chain reaction...it was seeing Haurchefant trapped in his own body.

Having him back feels like the day after her harrowing experience in The Vault. Letting herself into his room and finding him alive and, if not hale and whole, at least recovering. The relief of it threatens to send her crashing down if she thinks too long on it.

Sometimes, Nerys wonders if there is something wrong with her. One person is not meant to feel this much, to have emotion so fierce it seems to course all through her. Years of learning to keep it below the surface only does so much. It doesn’t stop her from experiencing it.

She steps out of the bathroom in a robe and Haurchefant is there, slicing up an apple at the long dining table. He still wears the golden armor and cape–a design, she realises, is very close to what the Crystarium guard wear. Though she has seen none with that color of plate.

“You could have changed clothes,” she says. “You still can.”

“Ah but…” He rises. “That would have prolonged returning to you. And maybe I want you to see me in my ‘official’ uniform again.”

Nerys walks towards him, taking in the sight, He is always lovely and she suspects he always will be. Fortemps men age extremely well. The ensemble does add a certain...magnificence to him. He might be a prince in such armor, if they still had such titles in Ishgard. “You look amazing. You said you were forming alliances?”

“Mm.” He meets her in the middle of the room, wrapping arms about her. “The dwarves of Tomra are excellent smiths. I thought to impress them with meticulously crafted armor. Different from what I might use to treat with the Night’s Blessed.”

These are all terms she doesn’t know outside of the Exarch’s explanation of where her friends are. He speaks them with such ease, as if he is a son of the First and not a visitor who arrived two years ago.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” She asks, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

He smiles. “Oh plenty. For instance, I cannot keep my hands off of you.”

“Good.” She releases his cape from his armor and watches it pool on the ground. “Then don’t.”

Thus permitted, Haurchefant kisses her as fiercely as he did in Kholusia. His armor presses against the fluffy white material of her robe, her exposed skin, and she doesn’t care. It is a welcome prod against her fatigue along with the aching need clenching at her center.

He tilts up her chin and presses a hungry mouth to the underside of her jaw, to her throat. She shivers as his gauntleted hands cradle either side of her neck. Haurchefant knows she cannot abide pressure at her throat stronger than a bite or kiss. Cold metal laying atop her shoulders is different.

Nerys doesn’t know what it means that it’s affecting her so. That can be worked out later. She wants him now.

Haurchefant tosses her belt aside and pushes the robe open and off of her. It lays gathered their feet along with his cape. “Give me a moment, love. I’ll have this armor gone.”

“Don’t bother.” Nerys slides her hands to his belt, finding familiar straps and catches. Armor is armor, most of the time. She’s well-acquainted with removing certain pieces for a fuck after a battle. To her disappointment, he does remove the gauntlets but leaves the rest. In the moment he promised, she frees his cock.

“The bed.” He says, voice urgent. Punctuating it with a harsh, brief kiss. “Go lie down.”

“My lord.” She rushes to cross the room. He is like a shadow, just behind her by a step as she moves. Watches her lay down for him. When he adjusts her–draping her legs over the side of the bed and sliding a pillow beneath her–she is breathless.

Haurchefant is often bossy with her in bed. Including one memorable afternoon in Ala Mhigo, when he tied her to the cot and ordered her to be quiet. (Tent walls are thin, after all). What drives him now is as fierce as she has ever seen, a consuming hunger that rages just below the surface.

Nerys swallows, throat still unbelievably dry. Water will wait till after. Everything can wait till after. Her tongue grazes her cracked lips. “I missed you.”

“You…” He plants his hands on either side of her, his greaves grazing her shins. “I wished for your arrival as often as I dreaded it. I wanted to see you and yet, I did not want to drag you across worlds for another conflict.”

Haurchefant shifts his balance to one arm–the non-dominant hand–and slips his fingers between her legs. She has no idea if the scars from the Vault transferred to this body, though she sees the telltale signs of fatigue. The pain must still-

Nerys sighs as he spreads her folds, two fingers easing into her. “You know...I would cross all rifts to find you.”

“I know.” His lips brush her forehead. “And I know you will face whatever comes and win, as you always do. Even so, would that I could grant you a reprieve.”

“This,” she says, spreading her legs wider. “This is respite. This is what I need.”

He creates such need in her, an ache that demands satisfaction. Especially with the intent look in his eyes, the passion trembling just below the surface. The kind of intense, overwhelming desire that keeps her awake at night until she reaches for her toys.

His touch is direct and purposeful. All the right movements, the right pressure–he remembers it all. Nerys tilts her head back, eyes closing as she sinks into the feel of it. The building in her. A slight cramp forms in her left calf and she lifts that foot to rest on the bed, rocking in motion with his fingers.

It’s there. It’s right there. She just needs to push further in that direction and he’ll have her in pieces.

“Haurchefant.” Nerys lifts her head. “I need you.”

It is as much for him as it for her–he is tense with the force of holding back his passion. Relief crosses his noble brow and he nods, slipping his fingers out of her. The sight of his tongue tasting the slick on them sends a new flutter through her.

“At your service,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around himself. He takes a moment to find the notch before pressing in, slow at first and then all at once. The angle is...she shifts herself until it feels right, sighing. Draws her other foot up. Turns out her hip more so her bent outer thigh touches the mattress. Better, but...

Still as a cat, he looks down at her. Holding himself in place, unwilling to move though the need in his cerulean gaze is almost painful. “Is this alright?”

Nerys nods. “This is alright. I’m alright. Let me…”

She lifts both feet, resting her ankles on his shoulders before extending her legs. She is tall but so is he, not much further to go. Much better. This is a position she knows and one she always likes. Especially with him in armor like this, fierce and strong and overpowering.

“Go on,” she urges, rocking against him. "Please."

He requires no further coaxing and begins moving inside her. Nerys grips at the sheets, sliding her hips in tandem with him. There. Right there. If he just drives at that spot...

Even his finger on her clit can't distract from the returning cramp. She flexes her foot a few times, annoyed with herself. She has him back and he is a magnificent, golden knight before her; and her body creates obstacles. The growing cottony feel of the inside of her mouth. The warnings of a headache along the too-tight muscles at her nape and temple.

Nerys bats these annoyances out of her brain and sets her focus to him. The thick, hot length of him sliding into her. The gentle and insistent pressure of his thumb. The blazing blue of his eyes as he looks at her like she is a precious treasure.

It's there. She can see the edge of relief.

She can also feel her body refusing to move past this stage, the artful touch at her clit moving from delightful to numbing.

"A moment," Nerys gasps. "Sorry, can we…"

"Anything. Anything." His voice is a near growl in contrast to his words. He seems liable to fall apart at any moment.

"Just-fuck me right now, no hands," she says. Sometimes the nub needs a brief reprieve before she can come.

The hand at her clit disappears, splays instead on the bed beside her head. His hips snap back into motion and she gasps at the jolt of it.

Twelve. She is slick and needy and has wanted this for weeks now. The feel of his heavy cock. The utter surrender to him, a man who owns her soul and heart and-

"Shit!" The cramp blossoms at once into a throbbing, consuming pain. Too much to ignore. "Sorry, sorry, it's not you, my leg-"

Haurchefant trembles above her, leashing his desire. It takes him some time to speak. "Per...perhaps a different position? And I'll remove the armor."

With other men, this is the point she would have carried on and faked her climax. But he would not thank her for such deception. Too empathetic by half, too much of a gentleman.

"Just...put my legs down and finish in me." She says at last, frustration prickling at her eyes and throat. This is their reunion and she can't even-

"My heart." Reverent, gentle, he slides her legs back down. His breath is so ragged. "I can-"

"Please." She adjusts herself against him. "Let me do this for you? You're trembling."

He sighs. There is a faint shudder as he holds himself back. "I am not so green I can't control myself."

"I know. But I'm saying you don't have to." Nerys tightens around him. "Come for me, please."

Haurchefant shudders as her inner walls clench around him, stuttering out a breathy moan. One nod, then he moves in her again. The leg has a brief spasm and for a moment she fears it will be too much-

And then he slides deep into her, shuddering and filling her and gripping the blanket by her head so tight he might rip it. The feel of him falling apart re-kindles some of the heat in her. It is not satisfaction but it is nice, seeing him like this.

Haurchefant kisses her, a mindless, fierce claiming of her mouth. She groans as he stutters inside her with the aftershocks.

"Nerys, dearest…" He whispers like a prayer. The tone and the care in that settles her. The love in his eyes settles her.

The armor does come off. Another time, they’ll figure that out. It was...well it isn’t funny that she’s had sex when both parties were armored but this was beyond them. But it’s a cousin of humor, at least.

And at least she can smile. Keyed up as she is, it is a blessing to feel some contentment about the whole thing. And Haurchefant is gentle as he cleans her up, warm hands soothing over her until she relaxes. Carefully kneading at the interfering calf.

They lie naked in the cool, crisp sheets. Skin against skin, calmer now. Haurchefant slides a hand through her hair. "By the by; I should have said this, the moment I saw you. You look utterly beautiful with this new cut."

Warmth flares in her cheeks and chest. "You like it?"

"Mm. Exceptionally pretty." He kisses the tip of her nose. "Somehow you are the Most Beautiful Lily in Ishgard no matter what you do with it. As well as other countries and worlds, naturally."

"Oh now you're just exaggerating." She kisses his shoulder. Her stomach chooses then to growl, loud and angry.

"...beloved," says Haurchefant, brow creasing. "When last did you eat?"

"Far too long ago," she admits. "I was going to eat and drink but...well, you put your hands on me and that was that."

He sighs and sits up. "I even cut up fruit for you before I became a distraction. Come, let's take care of you."

Nerys slides her arms around him. "I like the sound of that. Do you have to leave the Crystarium again any time soon?"

Haurchefant smiles, eyes a little sad at the notion. “Likely. Let us make the most of this time, ere we must part again.”

“I can do that.” She relaxes in his grip, curling up against his warmth. For the first time that long, interminable day: peace settles upon her.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #wol x haurchefant #duskwight elezen #duskwight warrior of light #dragoon warrior of light #alphinaud leveilleur #crystal exarch #///////explicit fic #ally writes

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Blurry Lines (John Wick x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Wick is after a guy who sometimes work for you and that puts you under his radar so you run. Not fast enough though.

Author’s Notes: This one was requested by @whitelittlefloof took me a while, but it’s finally here and I hope you like it dear.

Wordcount: 2575

Warnings: smut (dirty talk; sex with guns closeby; unprotected sex)

You felt yourself relaxing as the hot water cascaded over you, easing your tense muscles, washing away the stress that had settled over you for the last week. Ever since you paid a visit to the New York Continental just to find out that the Boogeyman was asking around about you.

That day you were supposed to close a contract. One that could set you for a long, long time, but when Addy dropped that small piece of news, you fled as quickly as you could. You didn’t care if it would taint your reputation; you didn’t care if you were ruining a huge score.

You had spent your life staying far away from Tarasov and the rest of the High Table. You traveled in their world, but you weren’t really part of it. You didn’t want to be. They were fickle and petty, and it would lead to death sooner rather than later. And you always made sure it was later for you.

So, you ran. As fast as you could. As far as you could. Burning a couple of aliases in the process and a considerable chunk of your savings, but you regretted nothing. You had heard plenty of stories about John Wick and the last thing you wanted was to stand in the same room with him.

Turning off the shower, you stepped out of the stall, the bathroom foggy with steam as you dried yourself quickly and wrapped the towel around your body before stepping into the hotel room, freezing at the sight of Wick there, lounging on the armchair by the window. Dark three-piece suit, dark hair slicked back, dark eyes watching you, pistol resting his knee.

You swallowed the lump of panic in your throat, eyes darting around, looking for a way out and lingering a fraction of second too long on the door.

“Don’t.” His voice sounded so loud in the quiet room. “You’re fast, but a bullet is faster.” He was right. You knew he was right, but the instinct of running still sung high in your veins along with adrenaline. Maybe. Just maybe… “Be smart. I just want to talk.”

“Am I going to come out alive of this conversation?” you asked, hating how your voice shook.

“If you answer me honestly, yes,” Wick replied, making a show of setting his gun back in its holster as if that was a big comfort. He was twice your size. He could kill you with his bare hands. “It’s not your name on my contract.”

After another second of hesitation, you moved closer, taking a seat on the chair across from his, tightening the knot of your towel and making sure it covered all the important parts. You had a feeling Wick wasn’t going to let you go back into the bathroom to change and you weren’t about to do it in front of him, even if he was more attractive than what you heard.

“Whose name is it then?” you asked, meeting his eyes dead on and you thought you saw something in those brown orbs. Admiration maybe? Surprise?

“Barton,” Wick replied, and you cursed under your breath, fisting your towel. “He stole from Viggo and word is he moves your stones for you.”

“Sometimes,” you admitted, drumming on the arm of your chair. “I haven’t used him in a couple of months. He was getting greedy.”

“Clearly,” Wick said dryly, reaching into his suit and you tensed, ready to bolt. Fortunately, it was a phone he pulled out and offered it to you. Your phone. “Call him. Set up a meeting.”

“If I do that no smuggler will ever work with me again,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a leveled look. “A girl’s gotta eat.”

“No one will know it was you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You could almost hear the tick of the old wall clock as you and John stared each other down, tension lingering heavy around you.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” you asked with a snort and Wick’s lips tilted upwards slightly.

“You do,” he replied. “You just won’t like the alternative. Neither will I.”

“And here I thought all your Ruska Roma folks got a hard-on for murder,” you commented with a defeated huff, taking the phone from him and sending Barton a quick message with place and time.

“No,” he said, and you thought you heard a small chuckle in his voice as he looked first at you, then at the phone screen, committing the meeting information to memory. “I don’t, at least. There’s a line between business and pleasure.”

“A hard line?” you asked with a raised brow, letting your gaze wander over him for the first time.

Now that you knew Wick wasn’t there to kill you, you found yourself relaxing and admiring his features and the hard muscles enhanced by the sharp suit. He was a handsome man. The danger and barely contained power of him making him even more attractive.

“It can get blurry from time to time,” John admitted after a second, his own eyes taking you in.

You only hummed, standing up and letting the towel fall to your feet, enjoying the way his eyes darkened as he looked you over before you straddled his lap, making John tilt his face up to keep watching you.

“Never fucked an armed guy before,” you said against his lips, feeling his hands warm against your skin, the gun callous catching on your skin.

“Today won’t be the day you will,” he said, nipping at your bottom lip, before making you stand and getting up as well. He lingered there, towering over you, eyes hungrily scanning your body. “But maybe another time.” John took a step away from you and moved towards the door.

“Another promise, I’ll have to hold you to it,” you said, watching as he paused, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk.

“I’m good for it.”

---

And he really was. You held your pretend meeting with Barton, handing him some stones that you could afford going without and both of you went on your own ways. It wasn’t until two weeks later and you were already back in New York that you got news the smuggler was dead, and it never led back to you.

You settled at the Continental bar chatting up with Addy. To her it was just another day, to you, it was a celebration. You escaped that mess with your life and reputation intact. That was a real feat, especially because it was such a close call. Or at least that was what you thought.

Swirling your martini, you caught the way Addy’s green eyes darted behind you, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced back at you and you just knew.

You turned around on your stool, a smirk playing on your lips as you faced John. He wasn’t on his three-piece black suit, which was a shame, but he still looked absolutely gorgeous in turtleneck and dark trousers. His hair loose and falling over his eyes, giving him a sort of softness that you would never associate with John Wick.

“I heard you were looking for me, Mr. Wick,” you said casually, sipping your drink as he approached the bar and Addy brought him a glass of bourbon.

“I was,” he replied, not looking for you. “But I settled the matter without you.”

“Shame,” you commented, downing your drink before you wrote down your room number on your napkin and pushed your way. “In case there are still loose ends you need to deal with.”

With a wink, you walked away, making sure to put an extra swagger on your hips as you exited the bar.

An hour passed. Then two and Wick didn’t show up.

Maybe he wasn’t as interested as he had been back at the motel. Maybe you imagined the hunger in his eyes. You didn’t think so. You knew when men wanted you and John definitely had that look on. The one that told he was counting all the dirty things he could do to you.

Still, it was late, and you had a flight to catch tomorrow, so you exchanged your dress for your favorite sleeping shirt and shorts, making sure the taser gun you always kept with you were under your pillow. The Continental was the safest place in this world, but it never hurt to keep extra protection.

You were about to get under the covers when there was a knock on the door and you walked over to answer, only slightly surprised to see John standing there, his gaze dropping to the panda print on your chest, before coming to your eyes again, his lips twisting into a smirk.

“Nice PJs,” he commented stepping into the room.

“I know.” You closed the door behind him. “And you took your sweet time.”

“Had some business with Winston,” John said, turning to look at you.

There it was it again, the hunger and lust as he took you in: your bare legs, the tiny shorts that barely covered your ass, the flimsy blouse with tiny straps, the fabric soft and worn-off, displaying the shape of your breasts.

“I have a promise to keep,” he said, taking a step towards you and you nodded, your lips pulling into a smile.

“You do.”

His large hands rested on your hips, warming you through your shorts as John tugged you closer until you were standing in his space, breathing in his air, which smelled of cigarettes and whiskey. His dark eyes holding you still with their intensity.

“You want me to keep my guns on me while I fuck you?” he asked, his tone huskier than before and you shuddered at the sound of it and the idea.

It was dangerous. Wick was dangerous. You knew next to nothing about him except that he was a killer. And a very skilled one. That was what made it more thrilling and arousing. Just imagining getting on his lap, feeling the blunt edge of his pistols pressing against your body as you rode him was enough to make you soak your panties.

“Yes,” you whispered, quick fingers pushing his blazer over his shoulder, exposing the wool of his sweater and the straps of his holster hanging from his shoulders, the pistols looking threatening under the half-light of the room.

“I can do that.”

You saw him scanning the room, localizing the spot he wanted, before he looked back at you again, one of his hands coming to cup your jaw, his calloused thumb brushing your lips before he tilted your face up and kissed you.

His mouth was hard and demanding, his tongue pushing past your willing lips to lick and taste, rubbing and brushing against yours, igniting the heat of pleasure in your body. You reached up to his neck, combing your fingers through his silky hair, melting into his embrace and barely missing a beat when John pulled you up, your legs coming around his waist.

He brought you to the table, setting you on the edge, hands pulling your shorts off with precise movements as his lips traveled down your neck, collarbones, chest, pulling your breasts free from your top and catching one nipple between his lips.

You arched against his mouth as he sucked and flicked it with his tongue until you were keening, hands seeking for his belt, but John just moved his hips away from your reach, smirking up at you, as he shifted his attention to the other nipple.

Letting yourself get lost in the sensations, you leaned back on your elbows, giving John more room to explore your body. He tugged your top off before his tongue left a fiery path down the valley of your breasts, making you quiver and squeeze the edge of the table as it swirled around your navel on its way south until his mouth finally found your pussy. He pressed a sucking kiss to your throbbing clit, making you moan and rock up, hand coming to grasp the leather straps of his holster.

John’s hands spread your thighs wider, leaving you open and dripping for his exploring tongue and lips as he lapped and sucked at your outer lips, pressing soft, butterflies kisses that had you shaking and rolling your hips in a desperate search for more.

“John…” you gasped, desperate to feel more of him, to have him inside you. “Please.”

“Turn around,” John said, pulling away long enough for you to comply, resting face first on the table, tensing in anticipation as he just hovered behind you for a moment. Blood rushed through your ears making your deaf to the sound of him undoing his trousers.

You felt his heavy hand coming to rest on your back, pushing you down firmly against the polished surface of the table while the tip of his cock brushed against your slit, making you moan and try to push back.

“So eager for my cock.” John chuckled, his tone darker now and it went straight to your center, making a new wave of wetness slick your cunt. “Nothing but a dirty slut, huh?”

You didn’t have a chance to reply, as he finally thrust inside in one smooth stroke and you cried out, fingers seeking something to hold onto on the smooth surface as your walls fluttered around his cock, making you feel every single vein and ridge.

John pressed his chest against your back, trapping your against the table, his guns rubbing against your sides as he wrapped one arm around your chest, the other coming to rest on the table by your head as he started to move with even and slow, but hard thrusts that pulled his cock almost all the way out before his hips snapped forward again, slamming against your ass and making you whimper and shake at every stroke.

“Is this what you wanted, darling?” John asked, but you were too far gone to answer.

Lost in the amazing friction of his cock moving in and out, your wetness running down your legs as he increased his pace, his arm leaving your chest to find your clit and rub it in a hard, fast pace until you were mewling and writhing beneath him, your orgasm intense and perfect, the kind that made you back arch like a bow and your toes curl.

John fucked you through it, grunting and panting against your ear until he finally came with a low groan, muffled against your shoulder as he spilled deep inside you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had been fucked so well that your legs felt like jelly, tears leaked from your eyes and all you could do was grin and try to drag as much oxygen into your lungs as you could manage.

“Next time we should try the bed,” John spoke out of breath as he straightened his back, freeing you from his weight, but keeping his hold on your hips to keep you upright. “It’s much more comfortable.”

“Is that another promise, Mr. Wick?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him as you finally pulled yourself to your feet, smiling at the soreness between your legs and the come running down your thigh.

“Yes, it is,” John breathed against your cheek, before pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

xxx

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#keanu reeeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves x you #fanfic #one shot #requested #smut

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inliar · 3 years

Text

spaced in, spaced out

word count: 4.5k

hyojin-centric

hyojin wholeheartedly loves space; the big kind, like the sky and the planets and the brilliant, brilliant stars, but also the small kind, like the time he gets to himself when everything screams louder than it should.

mildly inspired by on the run LA ep 22, time stamp 10:25

a/n: i’ve posted this on ao3 and have since orphaned it (due to unnecessary worrying) so if you recognize it, that’s likely why.

warning: mentions of exhaustion / depressive symptoms

on days when practice runs late (which is almost every day when you don’t know when to stop; a trait hyojin admits he has but refuses to see the problem with), hyojin likes to look at the sky. when he’s feeling lazy, or when dance practice is exceptionally gruelling, he can only really manage to make it to the nearest window and do his best to look up and over the surrounding building’s walls. but when he’s feeling particularly active, he’ll take the stairs up to the rooftop patio and enjoy the sight. from there, he has a clear, unobstructed, view.

not that it’s all that clear, though. light pollution, residual smog, and occasionally cloudy skies mask what hyojin imagines would be a stunning scene without. he’s looked up some night sky pictures on nasa’s official gallery, and they were absolutely breathtaking. so were their ridiculously high quality photos of the solar system, and the milky way, and all the constellations. he has these images saved in a neat little folder on his phone, for days when his own view doesn’t cut it. one day, hyojin would like to see them in real life. maybe he could visit an actual observatory with professional telescopes.

but as it stands, all hyojin can see from his place on earth is the moon, and, if he’s lucky, a couple of stars. on most days, that’s enough. he can observe how far along the lunar cycle the moon is, and he can close his eyes and make a tiny wish to the first star he saw that night. he’s not sure if his wishes help — luck is a fickle thing that he’s never quite had enough of — but he figures it can’t hurt. and after his little ritual, he can return back to his practice room or his dorm with a peaceful mind. he’s here. he’s grounded. he has a more or less beautiful sky to look at. on most days, that’s enough.

but on other days, it’s not. like today.

for one, it’s not even nighttime. a glance at the clock in the practice room tells him that it’s 17:34, which he eventually translates into 5:34 p.m.. it’s much too early to look to the sky for comfort, and it is definitely much too early for the type of crisis that hyojin normally only gets very late at night or very early in the morning. the ones where he can’t do anything besides sit in place like some useless tree stump while he questions his life.

“do you want to go get dinner?”

hyojin hates wasting time, so he doesn’t let them happen often, but every now and then one sneaks by him. especially when he’s overworked and tired and doesn’t have the energy to fight it off. he’s not sure what’s happening just yet, but he can sense that familiar, unsettling feeling simmering somewhere very near.

“hyung, you good?” hyojin hears, and he jolts in place where he’s sitting on the practice room floor. yuto’s looking down at him, all wide eyed and polite, and seungjoon is draped over the poor boy’s back.

“yeah, sorry, i was just … thinking.” hyojin replies lamely, cursing himself for his lack of a better explanation. all of these thoughts, and not a single one is of any use outside of his head.

“seungjoon hyung asked if you were getting dinner with us, but you didn’t answer.” yuto continues. hyojin pauses to process this, before noticing just how quiet the room is. a glance around the room confirms his suspicions; the room is empty, save for the three of them. “where did everyone else go?” hyojin asks.

“jaeyoung and minkyun said they were going to the studio after practice today to work on a new song, remember? and changyoon went to start a vlive. they all said goodbye before they left?” seungjoon explains.

huh. hyojin doesn’t recall any of this. “right, now i remember!” hyojin lies, perhaps a bit too eagerly. he can feel seungjoon staring at him, but he avoids the impulse to look back and stubbornly maintains eye contact with yuto instead.

“so … dinner?” yuto asks.

hyojin hesitates. he is hungry, but going out to eat means talking to someone to order. it means maintaining a conversation with his members, or at the very least keeping up with what they’re talking about. they’re usually really good at sensing when doesn’t want to talk, and they never push him, but hyojin doesn’t want to show off how drained he’s feeling at the moment. just thinking about it makes his head hurt.

“i don’t really want to go out today.” hyojin confesses. seungjoon and yuto nod together like a pair of synchronized bobble heads. cute.

“i’m kind of getting a headache, so i think i’ll head back to the dorm for a bit and take a nap. maybe i can go live sometime today, too. did anyone say they wanted to go after changyoon?” hyojin asks.

“no, i don’t think so.” seungjoon replies, which causes hyojin to accidentally make eye contact with him. darn. seungjoon can be ridiculously perceptive when he wants to be, especially when it comes to reading him. hyojin is not in the mood to be read right now.

seungjoon must come to some sort of conclusion in his head, because he stops staring at hyojin with that weird, ambiguous gaze. “i’ll drop some food off at your place after we’re done. that kimchi fried rice and those dumplings you like.” seungjoon says decisively, before pushing himself off from yuto’s back. “are you coming down with us, at least?”

“yeah, let’s go.” hyojin mumbles as he stands up. his muscles are sore, more likely a result of yesterday’s practice than today’s. the teachers went particularly hard yesterday. it was this constant series of ‘again, again, again’ for all these minuscule details that even yuto seemed to have a hard time catching. but they were much better afterwards because of it, so hyojin figures he shouldn’t complain.

he’s happy to listen to yuto and seungjoon babble about dance practice as they walk down the stairs; partially because he loves hearing the passion in their voices as they discuss how they want to present themselves, and partially because he doesn’t think he has the power to sustain a conversation right now. thankfully, neither of the two push him to say anything. he’s not sure whether it’s because he said he was getting a headache or because they can sense something is actually off with him, but he’s grateful nonetheless.

hyojin remembers to smile and say goodbye when he parts ways with seungjoon and yuto. then, he puts his phone on do not disturb before starting his trek home. he doesn’t want to talk to anyone just yet.

hyojin sits down on his bed and he doesn’t cry. he simply thinks.

sometimes he feels like a fake. he’s been told by dozens of people that his singing voice is so emotional. that it conveys a depth of feeling that’s heart wrenchingly beautiful when it needs to be, and technically perfect when it doesn’t. and he’s grateful for that, he truly is. but sometimes, he worries that it isn’t enough.

not that he doesn’t express emotions, because he does. he knows he does. anyone who’s observed hyojin long enough can see it. but the one thing he feels like he hasn’t openly expressed is sadness. which is understandable, after all, since he’s an idol. people come to him and his music for comfort, not to hear him complain. but he’s starting to believe that his absolute inability to convey this basic emotion is what’s causing all of his weird crises.

hyojin wishes he could cry. but he hasn’t cried in so long that he fears he no longer knows how to. bottled up emotions don’t free themselves easily, not when he’s tightened the cap so hard and so often that he’s not sure where the bottle ends and the cap begins.

‘don’t you feel bad?’ he chides himself.

‘yes,’ his inner voice croaks.

‘then prove it,’ he thinks. he challenges himself. he demands.

hyojin doesn’t cry, so he stands up. it’s time for him to get a grip on himself. he takes a shower and changes into comfortable clothes. he doesn't have anything else to do for the rest of the day, so he tries to take a nap as well. it’s hard at first — he’s oddly cold under the power of the air conditioning (that he never bothered to learn how to turn off) and his mind is still whirring with empty, useless, thoughts — but his sheer exhaustion overpowers it all as he falls into a shallow, troubled rest.

when he wakes up, his room is much darker then it was before. he reaches out for his phone, his hand haphazardly scrabbling for purchase on his nightstand before finally picking it up. squinting, he manages to read the time: 8:19 p.m.. cool, so he got around two hours of sleep. he figures that’s not too bad. he got four the other day when he was actually trying to go to bed.

for a moment, hyojin contemplates attempting to sleep again before deciding against it. he’s a little drowsy, but he’s not physically tired anymore. with that in mind, he gets up, slips his phone in his pocket, and opens his bedroom door. he could use a cup of water.

the lights are on somewhere out there, which hyojin guesses probably means that changyoon is on the couch playing kart rider or something. his assumption is proven to be correct when he spots changyoon, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, mumbling under his breath at his phone.

“what are you doing?” hyojin asks, turning towards the kitchen to pour himself some water. just before he looks away, he sees changyoon flinch. “n-nothing, i was just texting minkyun,” he hears changyoon stammer awkwardly.

hyojin pauses. suspicious. changyoon is definitely hiding something. hyojin considers confronting his roommate, but before he gets the chance to do so he feels his stomach grumble. right, he skipped dinner.

“did you already eat?” hyojin asks instead, taking his cup of water with him as he walks to the couch. it’s then that he notices the nearly empty takeout box of dumplings on the coffee table.

“never mind, i guess you have.” hyojin answers himself, putting his cup on the table and sitting down next to changyoon. “hmm, what should i eat?”

“oh, right!” changyoon says, popping the last dumpling in his mouth and standing up. “i ran into seungjoon and yuto on the way here. they gave me some takeout for you,” he explains as he walks to the fridge.

hyojin had forgotten about that, but he remembers now. “yeah, i think he said he was going to do that. kimchi fried rice and dumplings, right?” hyojin asks. he could really go for some dumplings right about now, especially after seeing changyoon eating.

changyoon freezes. “o-oh, so seungjoon told you,” he chuckles nervously, pulling a clear plastic bag out of the fridge and bringing it back to where hyojin is sitting on the couch. he’s trembling, which is odd. hyojin already has a very bad feeling about this, but he doesn’t want to say anything yet. surely changyoon wouldn’t do something so dumb as to -

“where are my dumplings?” hyojin demands, after opening the styrofoam container and only finding fried rice. he looks inside the empty plastic bag one more time, just to be sure (they’re not there), before glancing at the empty styrofoam container that changyoon was eating out of before. funnily enough, it’s the same type of takeout box as his fried rice container.

“you ate my dumplings?” hyojin shrieks, immediately grabbing a pillow from the couch. changyoon has already wisely retreated to the very end of the room, but hyojin wastes no time in lunging to where changyoon escaped to with agility akin to his deer nickname. changyoon futilely attempts to dart out of the way, but hyojin manages to grasp the collar of his shirt with one hand while he smacks changyoon with the pillow in his other hand. “what - were - you - thinking?” hyojin hisses, punctuating each word with a thump from the pillow. he notices that changyoon is covering his head, so he makes sure to hit the deserving food thief extra hard.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” changyoon wails as he drops to the ground to shield himself further. “i was hungry!”

“and you thought to take my food, you jerk?” hyojin yells, dropping and holding changyoon down with his knee while he continues to bash him with the pillow. “you didn’t even leave any behind for me!”

“i’m sorry, i’m sor- ow! stop hitting me, please, i’ll buy you more dumplings!” changyoon begs, and it’s enough for hyojin to graciously let changyoon go. “you better,” hyojin threatens, standing up. “you’re lucky i’m weak right now, you brat.”

“i’m sorry, what? you call that weak?” changyoon asks incredulously, sitting up and leaning back on his hands. “was that pillow made out of rocks?”

“if i hadn’t just woken up, and i wasn’t so hungry …” hyojin trails off.

“you know what, i don’t even want to think about it,” changyoon decides. “but the food stall closes at 10, so we should get going if you want the dumplings tonight.”

“i’m sorry, we?” hyojin asks incredulously. “why do i have to go out?

“don’t you want to personally make sure i get the right ones?” changyoon offers.

“no, because i can tell you right now which ones i want — pork, by the way — and if you forget you can text me.” hyojin says.

“but i don’t want to go outside alone! it’s dark, and it’s scary!”

“sucks for you, then, you shouldn’t have eaten my food in the first place. and since when have you been scared of the dark?”

“please?” changyoon asks. “i’ll buy you ice cream if you do.”

hyojin pauses. ice cream does sound really good right now. “okay, fine.” he decides. “but i’m not changing.”

“yeah, me neither. the food stall lady has known us for forever, though, so it’s probably fine.” changyoon reasons, standing up. “let me get my wallet and then we can go.”

“okay,” hyojin agrees. “i need to fix my hair anyways, it’s probably a mess.”

hyojin manages to tidy up his bedhead/warrior hair and find a cap in his room, but changyoon still hasn’t come out yet. “are you coming?” hyojin calls, walking out of his room to sit on the couch. he picks up his unfinished glass of water and takes a sip. he wouldn’t want to have damaged his throat after his screaming fit.

changyoon walks into the living room, looking sheepish. “so, um, how mad would you be if i told you that i think i left my wallet at the company?”

“... you’re serious.” hyojin deadpans incredulously.

“yeah, uh, i just realized i left my coat in the room where i did my vlive, and i normally carry my wallet in my pocket.” changyoon explains, before wincing. maybe he was expecting to get hit again?

hyojin sighs. “it’s fine. it’s on the way, anyway. let’s go?” he asks, before downing what’s left of his drink and standing up.

changyoon nods happily. “you’re the best and i love you?” he offers.

hyojin pushes changyoon. “ew. you can be sappy after i’ve eaten,” he laughs. “now get me some food.”

“come in with me?” changyoon asks, once they’re in front of WM. “i swear i saw the ghost last time, and i don’t want to face it alone.”

“well, why do i have to see it?” hyojin grumbles, but he opens the door for changyoon anyway. hyojin’s not heartless enough to ditch him, especially when he’s buying him food. but if he’s being really honest, he’d accompany changyoon regardless.

“what room did you leave your stuff in?” hyojin asks as they climb up the stairs, before coming to a realization.

“should we have asked the security guards for the keys?” hyojin pauses, before turning around. “wait, we should have, hold on, let’s go back -“

“wait!” changyoon calls, his voice amplified in the empty stairwell. hyojin reaches to cover his ears.

“oh, sorry, that was too loud,” changyoon realizes belatedly. “but trust me, we don’t need the keys.”

“what do you mean we don’t need the keys? the security guards always lock everything up after the office workers leave.” hyojin says, puzzled.

“minkyun’s in that room, he’s the one that told me i left my sweater there.” changyoon explains, as he continues to climb the stairs. instinctively, hyojin follows him.

“but why didn’t you tell me before? you could have told me that minkyun was there when you said that you left your wallet here.” hyojin asks.

“well i - uh, i forgot?” changyoon stammers.

hyojin frowns. changyoon is somehow being even more suspicious then when he ate hyojin’s dumplings, which is very confusing. something about his words are not adding up. he opens his mouth to ask something else, before being interrupted by changyoon.

“okay, we’re here!” changyoon exclaims, opening the door. except it doesn’t lead to the second or third floor like hyojin had expected.

“why are we on the roof?” hyojin asks, following changyoon before stopping in his tracks.

“oh hey, you’re here!” minkyun exclaims.

except it’s not just minkyun. the rest of the members are all there, bizarrely sitting in a circle on a large blanket on the roof. there’s various soda cans scattered around the edge of their huddle, and a couple of chip bags lie in the middle. if hyojin didn’t know better, he’d guess by the food that it was a poorly prepared picnic or a decently prepared sleepover.

“what …?” hyojin trails off in confusion.

next to him, changyoon breathes a sigh of relief and runs towards the rest of the members. “i am never doing this again. that was the most stressful hour or whatever of my life. i am incapable of lying, i swear he almost caught me twice, i have aged because of this -“

“oh, be quiet, this was your fault anyway.” minkyun snaps, but without a single hint of malice in his voice.

“so, um?” hyojin asks, frozen in place, as changyoon and minkyun bicker in the background. “what?”

“well, uh, this might sound pretty dumb, but you were really out of it in practice today.” jaeyoung starts, standing up and walking towards him. the rest of them do the same, abandoning their drinks and their snacks. “you were listening to what the teacher said and doing the dance moves correctly and everything, but it was like you weren’t actually there? you didn’t even say ‘bye’ back when minkyun and i left.”

darn. he was being obvious. hyojin opens his mouth, ready to give some kind of excuse, but seungjoon cuts him off.

“we wanted to ask you about it, but we didn’t know what to say and we didn’t want to make it awkward for you. and you mentioned how looking at the sky clears your mind, right? so we thought it would be nice to stargaze together? except it’s really cloudy …” seungjoon trails off.

hyojin looks up. seungjoon’s right, he can barely see the moon behind the clouds, let alone any stars. but the mere fact that his members came together and planned this in the first place is really, really nice.

hyojin looks around again and thinks. he knows for a fact that no one had chips at their dorm (seungjoon recently confiscated them all and donated them to the staff when he was feeling particularly sensitive about his self induced diet), so someone had went out and bought all the snacks so they’d have something to eat. someone had brought drinks so they wouldn’t get thirsty. someone had lugged this very big blanket up many flights of stairs so they’d have someplace clean to sit. someone had suggested doing this because they thought he felt bad, and someone had planned the event, even taking care to keep it a secret, to make him feel better. and they did this in their spare time, instead of practicing more or taking a well deserved break, for him.

they planned this all for him.

jaeyoung takes his silence as a bad thing, and hurriedly chimes in. “i mean, this might not have been what you were thinking of when you said you liked the galaxy, and we can always do something else! we don’t have a group practice tomorrow anyway, so we can do something fun tonight.”

“no, no! i’m just … this is good. actually, this is perfect. i - you didn’t have to do this, but it’s really thoughtful, and i?” hyojin buffers, completely lost for words.

seungjoon takes his arm. “you can just say thank you, and come sit with us.” he laughs, guiding hyojin back to their blanket where they’ve conveniently left a space for him to sit.

yuto hands him a coke as he takes his place, and hyojin wordlessly opens it and takes a sip. “thank you,” hyojin says, after a short pause. “i’m serious. this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

“you’re always trying to take care of us, yeah? we can do this for you.” minkyun says, and it’s so thoughtful hyojin winces a little. he’s not in the right headspace to vent about his emotions right now. he’s not even sure if he has the right words for them. maybe later, when he has them sorted out in his head, he’ll share them with the others. but for now, he just wants to spend some time together, in each other's proximity.

hyojin normally looks to the sky to clear his head, but for once, his mind is blissfully empty. something about this entire situation brings him genuine peace and he’s extremely grateful for that. it’s not like he tries to overthink or overwork himself, but he somehow ends up overdoing things anyway. very rarely does hyojin let himself sit back and just do things. very rarely does hyojin let himself be content with just being enough, and not more. right here and right now, though, hyojin feels like enough.

“so that’s why changyoon ate my dumplings.” hyojin realizes belatedly.

the rooftop was silent before, but somehow it becomes even quieter. “changyoon stole your food?” yuto whispers in horror.

“okay, in my defence!” changyoon screams, raising his hand. “i wouldn’t have had to resort to this if you guys didn’t make me bring him here! you know i’m bad at lying, and you still chose me! i needed a reason to be nervous in front of him!”

“and you’re still alive?” seungjoon asks, shocked. “after eating his food?”

“barely.” changyoon complains. “he makes a pillow hurt.”

“i knew you wouldn’t be so dumb as to eat my food for no reason.” hyojin mutters under his breath.

“do you know how many times i nearly had a heart attack because of you?” changyoon begins, pointing an accusatory finger at hyojin. “when you came out of your room i was so stressed. we were all texting each other trying to make plans, and i was eating your food, and i had to pretend i was texting minkyun about something normal and not this whole surprise event. and then i had to make a dumb excuse to get you here, and i said i left my wallet in my coat — why would i even wear a coat, it’s summer?”

hyojin didn’t even notice that. probably because he was so caught up on the food he was missing that he didn’t even see the signs right in front of him.

“i realized it the second after i said it, but i’m so grateful you didn’t call me out for it. and then you asked me about the keys, and of course we didn’t need the keys because everyone was already here, so i had to make up another lie about minkyun, except it didn’t even make sense because i totally would have mentioned it before, and this was just an overall traumatic experience. kim hyojin, never ask me another question again.” changyoon finishes dramatically.

“but we wouldn’t have made you do this alone if you didn’t try to add hyojin to the group chat. this is technically your own fault.” minkyun points out, and hyojin frowns. “what groupchat?” hyojin asks.

“you didn’t get the notifications?” seungjoon asks, and hyojin shakes his head.

“so seungjoon tried to make a groupchat with all the members except you so we could figure out what to do together, right?” minkyun starts. “but changyoon, this absolute idiot, literally asks, ‘oh, why aren’t we just using the groupchat we already have’ and adds you. why do you think we left him out in the first place?”

“it was an honest mistake!” changyoon whines. “anyone could have done it!”

“but you did it.” minkyun teases, and changyoon stutters out excuses.

“wait, but you had no clue that we were doing this?” jaeyoung asks. “i figured we ruined it after we added you to the groupchat by accident.”

“i didn’t even get the notifications, though, are you -? oh.” hyojin says.

“what?” yuto asks.

“i turned my notifications off after i said bye to you and seungjoon.” hyojin realizes.

“then i didn’t even ruin anything! it didn’t have to be me in the first place!” changyoon screams. “this is so unfair!”

“but hey, at least you were successful.” seungjoon points out, and everyone else nods.

“the emotional trauma? that you put me through? what about that?” changyoon asks, but he’s interrupted by the sound of jaeyoung slapping his own arm.

“sorry, mosquito.” jaeyoung explains sheepishly.

“shoot, we forgot about bugs.” seungjoon sighs. “do you want to just go inside? we can order chicken or something.”

“actually, that sounds great right now. i haven’t had dinner yet, and i’m so hungry.” hyojin says happily.

“you didn’t have dinner? i literally brought you food!” seungjoon complains.

“okay, but after changyoon ate my dumplings, did you really think i was going to focus on eating over revenge?”

seungjoon pauses. “yeah, never mind. but still!”

“it’s okay, i’ll eat it later.” hyojin says. “but let’s order something in for now? and we should probably clean all this up, too.”

“we’re going inside? good, i’m getting cold.” yuto adds, standing up and picking up his empty coke can and a half eaten bag of chips.

“do you want to sleep over in the practice room?” minkyun suggests, laughing. “we’re already ordering chicken, this is basically our trainee days all over again.”

“you know what, i’m actually down for that.” jaeyoung says, grinning. “if they let us do it five years ago, they’ll let us do it now.”

“honestly?” hyojin asks, smiling one of his first real smiles. he hasn’t been this content for a while. “that sounds really, really good.”

it’s been a while, hyojin thinks as they clean up, since he’s been truly happy like this. it's been a while, he thinks, since everything has felt right. but here, in this space with five of the people he loves the most, he feels like enough. and for now, that’s all that matters.

#onf #on/off #hyojin #kim hyojin #onf fanfic #hyojin fanfic #other members are featured #onf hyojin #writing

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blazerina · 4 years

Text

Connected - Harper/Ethan/Allie (MC) - Open Heart

Connected – Harper/Ethan/Allie (MC) – Open Heart

Word Count: 2612

A/N: This story is based on this amazing song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant to Be – sent to me and requested by @unusualvisionsblog – thank you so much for the inspiration to finish this story. It took me a while but I’m really proud of how it all ended up.

Tagging my two fandom BFF’s @justanotherrookie and @parkerattano because they never fail to encourage and motivate me. Thankful for you ladies!

Lyrics to the song are below – I encourage you to listen while reading. It really sets the tone!

A Soulmate Who Wasn’t Meant to Be

I never should have called

‘Cause I knew you’d leave me

But I didn’t think

You could do it

So easily

I never should have held your hand

On that cold rainy night

‘Cause further along

It would cause another fight

Stranger

That’s all I see

When I look into your eyes

A soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

Stranger

Who knows all my secrets

Can pull me apart and break my heart

A soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

I never should have kissed

Kissed your hand

I’m under your control

I will never understand

I never should have said

I love you

Never said it back

So why do I still care for you?

Stranger

That’s all I see

When I look into your eyes

A soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

Stranger

Who knows all my secrets

Can pull me apart and break my heart

A soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

Wish I could go back to the day we met and leave you be

Sit and look pretty

Never should have called

Never should have held

Never should have kissed

Never should have said…

Stranger

That’s all I see

When I look into your eyes

A soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

Stranger

Who knows all my secrets

Can pull me apart and break my heart

A soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

Harper rolled over and pulled her phone off the nightstand to check the time. She had been awake for a while but could tell by the faint light coming in through her window, that it was getting close to the time she needed to get up.

She sighed heavily as she realized her phone confirmed her assumption. Harper blinked a few times to ensure she was fully awake, already annoyed with the day. She rolled over onto her other side and gently nudged her sleeping companion.

“Sam…Sam, wake up. It’s time for you to go. I have to get ready for work.”

The man next to her was clearly in no hurry to get out of bed. He faced Harper with his eyes still closed, reaching out for her.

“Baby, we don’t need to be in a rush…” Clearly, he thought he was smooth. And clearly, he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

“I will not ask you again to get out of my bed.” Harper declared. “I told you last night this was a one-time thing.”

She slithered out of the bed, keeping one sheet wrapped around her naked body. Making her way to her bathroom, she called out to him, “I expect you to be gone by the time my shower is done. You can see yourself out. Don’t leave anything behind because I’m not calling you back.”

The bathroom door forcefully closed behind her and Harper turned on the water. Pushing herself over the sink, looking more closely at her reflection, she studied herself, looking into her own eyes.

She never meant to become the kind of person who had a string of one-night stands. It wasn’t a part of her life she was especially proud of, but it served its purpose. She was too old to be asking herself who she was, or to be trying to find her identity. Those years were safely behind her. She owed it to herself to make up her own mind. She earned the freedom to stand by her own decisions without regret. The past was the past.

Part of her was relieved that she no longer had to share this portion of her life with the hospital. For far too long everyone from fellow doctors and administrators to volunteers and janitors, knew all about her every move. She was used to living in a fishbowl, but she was definitely over it. It wasn’t enough that she was proving herself to be a well-known and reputable medical professional, or that she was running one of the state’s largest and most prominent hospitals. Everyone needed to know about her personal life. She lost count of how many times people told her they couldn’t trust her if they didn’t know what she was “really like outside of this place.”

Ask anyone at Edenbrook about Harper Emery and you get a wide range of responses. Most people know her as a fine administrator and capable surgeon. Others are notoriously opposed to the way she performed as Chief and are thankful she’s been replaced by Naveen. Across the country she’s known for her expertise in surgery and her swift, decisive actions that have saved countless lives. A majority of medical staff see her as fair but firm, with high expectations and standards, not only for herself but everyone she works with.

Of all the things people have said about her, and the gossip she’s heard behind her back for years, there’s always one statement that sticks in her mind the most and haunts her every day. She can see it in their eyes when they find out; especially the interns when they’re finally told.

She walks down the halls and all goes silent except for the clacking of her heels on the cold stone floor. A small smirk appears on her face as people try to busy themselves with work before she asks them what they’re doing.

Despite all her achievements and the work she is proud of accomplishing, she’s come to terms with the fact that she’ll be remembered for one thing as she brushes past a group and someone inevitably whispers:

There goes Dr. Harper Emery. Former Chief of Medicine and former girlfriend of Dr. Ethan Ramsey. That’s all you really need to know.

Allie sat in the cafeteria staring dejectedly into her bowl of soup, absentmindedly stirring it every few seconds. Her head was propped up on her hand with her elbow on the table. Her long red hair was in a pile on top of her head. Her eyes tired. Her feet aching. Her mind elsewhere.

Lately she had been thinking about Ethan. That was nothing new. She hated how their situation was at present. He clearly wanted to be with her, practically reached out to her on numerous occasions, but something was stopping him. She heard time and time again that it was because of his care for her. That he wanted her to be the best doctor possible and he couldn’t do that and provide for her professionally if they were more than just colleagues. She rolled her eyes with disdain remembering how and when he said that word.

Professional.

It made her retch for a moment. She had already been working for about eight-hours of her twelve-hour shift and she wondered how she’d make it the next four. Allie turned her attention out the widow that overlooked a peaceful courtyard where patients or staff could go for a moment of quiet during the day.

She knew that her outlook on her relationship with Ethan had changed drastically over the past few weeks. At first, she thought she’d be able to handle it. Ethan’s decision made sense and she’d stop at nothing to make sure she could be the best doctor possible, but lately she’d been struggling. And right outside that window, sitting on a bench next to a patient in the courtyard, was the very reason why.

Dr. Harper Emery.

Allie didn’t know much about her past relationship with Ethan, only that she had one. And clearly it wasn’t an issue for him to be with her, so why was it such a big deal if she and Ethan wanted to be together instead?

In her head, Allie knew the difference. A subordinate and a supervisor is much different than two colleagues on the same level of the org chart, but her heart…her fickle-overly-emotional-prideful-too-hurt-to-admit-it heart, chanted to her over and over again:

You’re not good enough. You’ll never be her. There’s a real reason he didn’t want you. Do you honestly think you could measure up to that? She’s perfect. What would he ever see in someone like you?

It made it worse that Harper was the consummate professional around Allie. She was polite and welcoming, not warm, but still somehow hospitable. There had been a few times that she pushed back on Allie and challenged her, but nothing over the line.

Of course, it’s easy for her to do that.

The voice in her head reminded her.

She knows she’s got you beat in every category. You’ll never be competition to her.

Allie had even been watching Harper more intently when she worked with Ethan. There were so many little things that she had not noticed before. A few days ago, as Allie arrived for her shift, she noticed Harper helping him with his tie outside the cafeteria. A soft smile formed at the corners of her mouth as she straitened it for him and looked him in the eye.

“What would I do without you?” Ethan asked, his tone a bit too playful for Allie’s taste.

“Oh, you’d find a way to manage.” Harper responded. “After all, you’re Doctor Ethan Ramsey. You don’t let anyone around here forget it.”

Her composure as polite and calm as ever, Harper turned quickly on her heel and walked away. Allie swore Ethan’s eyes followed her all the way down the hall.

Allie knew that pining away for Ethan and obsessing over his every interaction with Dr. Emery would not serve her well. She needed to focus. But it was becoming more and more difficult. She was starting to lose confidence in herself and her abilities, which made her need and desire for Ethan all the more great.

He was the one who told her she could do anything. He was the mentor that taught her everything she knew about being a doctor. He was the one she needed. The one she was meant to be with forever.

All she had to do was convince him she was worth it.

Inevitably, the seed of doubt sprouted again in that arrogant-unstable-frustratingly-emotional heart of hers.

Who am I kidding? If Ethan couldn’t even make it work with someone as amazingly flawless as Harper Emery, how the hell do I stand a chance?

There they were. The two most prominent women in his life, chatting together in the hallway, right in front of his office.

Ethan told himself this couldn’t be good. Each woman on their own was difficult enough but seeing the two of them together made his pulse quicken. He felt his throat start to itch and he loosened his tie a bit, feeling a slight sting of anxiety in his stomach as he approached them.

“Dr. Emery.” He nodded. “Dr. Valentine.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Please, come in.”

“I told you.” Harper crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised one eyebrow in triumph, nodding towards Allie.

“Told her what?” Ethan asked, confused.

“We aren’t here to see you.” Allie explained. “We are discussing tomorrow’s surgery for Ms. Hogan. And as we were talk-“

Harper cut Allie off mid-sentence.

“I told Dr. Valentine that we should probably move this conversation elsewhere or finish before you returned, otherwise you’d think our presence at your door had something to do with you.”

“Sorry to inform you that it doesn’t…” Allie looked amused.

“I see.” Ethan responded shortly, his brow wrinkled, slightly irritated.

“You walked right into it, Ramsey.” Harper teased.

“Well played. I bid you all a good afternoon then. Seeing as how I’m not needed, even though you two purposefully stopped right outside my office. Let’s carry on with our work now instead of playing games, shall we?”

Ethan walked into his office and closed the door behind him, letting out a long sigh. The sight of those two, hearing their voices, the knowing way they mocked him, it was almost too much for him to handle. Harper was always quick to prove him wrong and reveled in any opportunity to do so.

He cursed himself for pursuing anything of substance with either one of them. He hated having regrets, but to see how things has ended up for all of them, he couldn’t help it. Nothing felt natural anymore – at least not for him. Everything was thought through and carried out with the utmost precision. His actions felt robotic as he made doubly sure not to make either of those women think he still had feelings for them.

Ethan was most careful to watch himself around Allie, as his time with her was the more recent and the most potent. It was challenging, though. He was drawn to her by a indescribable force. It took everything within him to pull himself away from her. In meetings, at the front desk, in the elevator, talking with patients, she always said or did something that made him weak in the knees.

It was killing him not to be able to see her after work, to spend time with her outside the office, to hear about her life beyond the walls of the hospital but he knew it was the right thing for her. If he had any desire to protect her or keep her safe and not hurt her any more than he already had, this is the way it needed to be.

Getting mixed up with a guy like him was bad news, just look at what it did to Harper.

Harper had always been the model of decorum; prim and proper, respected by all – but Ethan wasn’t stupid. He knew that now a part of her sterling reputation had been tarnished because of him. He heard the low voices whispering behind her back as she passed by. He was all to familiar now with the light in the interns’ eyes, how they lit up with intrigue when they found out that he and Harper had been…

What had they been? It was never anything real, which he blamed himself for. They had each other when they needed each other and that was about it.

Nothing substantial. Nothing with roots. Nothing that would last.

Nothing like…

His pager went off, rousing him from his diatribe of thoughts. Silently he opened the door and went to follow the page, not even noticing that Harper and Allie were still there, chatting away.

It was the end of another unremarkable day at Edenbrook. Harper was headed with her bag in hand towards the elevator doors, but they were closing too quickly.

At the last second, she made the decision to head towards the stairs, when a familiar voice called out:

“Harper. Come on, plenty of room in here.”

That voice would stop her in her tracks anywhere.

“Thank you, Ethan.” She smiled tightly as she entered the elevator with him. He held the doors open until she was settled and then pressed the button to close them.

Such a typical Ethan-move. Harper thought to herself.

Trying to win me over with his charm and chivalry. Don’t do it Harper, don’t fall for it. Not again. He’s not worth it.

Ethan focused his eyes straight ahead trying not to engage.

Leave her alone. You have to let her go.

Allie was ready to leave. The remaining portion of her shift had not passed as quickly as she had hoped. Nervous, yawning, grumpy and ready to soak her throbbing feet, she impatiently waited for the elevator to reach her floor. She could not wait to once again be reunited with her beloved bed.

The monotone bell rang out signaling the elevator’s arrival. She stepped in and surveyed the group of people also in the elevator. Parker from imaging. The really nice man in charge of housekeeping – she could never remember his name… – and Ethan.

Of course there was Ethan.

And Harper.

Lovely.

The nameless housekeeping man was first to exit. This ride was now officially long and uncomfortable. She wondered if Ethan and Harper felt the same.

A few floors later, Parker from imaging said a courteous goodnight and left the elevator.

Only four more floors to go.

All that remained was the three of them, each one with their eyes silently fixed on the numbers above the elevator doors. They illuminated, one by one, giving them hope that this uneasy metal box would deliver them from this situation soon.

Four…

The reputable doctor marred by transgressions with a colleague unable to forgive herself for wanting true love.

Three…

The world-renown diagnostician, somehow able to have so much and yet so little at the same time, feeling remorse for hurting two perfectly fine young women beyond repair.

Two…

An innocent second-year resident, thrown into a world she wasn’t ready for, caught up in confusion about her own feelings and comparing herself to someone she secretly admired and hoped to become.

One…

All three tired of being lonely, disappointed in themselves, and wanting nothing more than true, life-long companionship.

All three connected not by choice but by fate yet going home, once again, all alone.

#blazerina babbles #ethan ramsey #harper emery #allie valentine #open heart

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simastysims · 4 years

Text

Simasty Season 1 Episode 2 “The plot thickens” (originally published Nov 2018 @simasty.com)

Brystle Hemmings is preparing for her marriage to billionaire Burke Simmington. She faces hostility from all sides in his mansion, either from the staff or from Burke’s spoiled daughter Fathom. Brystle is worried that a past indiscretion may come to light…. Fathom meanwhile was overwhelmed by Brystle’s cheap perfume and sought comfort with potential sugar daddy Cyril Dolby, business rival to her father Burke. Cyril brushed off Fathom’s amorous advances and urged her to marry her former boyfriend, who is also his nephew, Seth…. Meanwhile Burke’s estranged son Heathen returned to the family mansion for his father’s wedding and is unsure if he will be able to reconcile with his father….And now, read on for the next juicy chapter….

Brystle knocked back the remains of her Brindleton Bay Iced tea and took a deep breath. This was the day before her wedding, she should be celebrating. Yet here she was all alone in Burke’s study in Siloli mansion with not a friend in the entire 48 rooms of the house. The snidey comments from Joseph the major-domo had stung. He referred to Brystle as replaceable, did that mean there had been multiple women in Burke’s life? Had they all been replaced whenever Joseph was displeased? There had only been 1 previous Mrs Simmington as far Brystle knew and she had abandoned her husband and children years ago, never to be seen or heard of since. But what part had Joseph in all of this? Was he such an influence on Burke? Brystle had no clue but the fact that Joseph knew, or implied he knew, something about Brystle’s past made her alarmed. For she knew her previous affair with married man, and employee of Burke, Mayhew Drysdale would cause a rift between her and Burke. The affair had been brief and it was before she and Burke got together but Brystle knew that any new headlines of the new Mrs Simmington sleeping with her husband’s employees would not sit well at all. There was only one thing to do and that was to see Mayhew.

Brystle left he study and walked through the never-ending corridors of Siloli mansion. It truly was cavernous. She still had trouble finding her way about and had once got lost for several hours just trying to locate the nearest bathroom. Eventually after much wandering she found herself in the grand ballroom, the most luxurious of all rooms in Siloli. It wasn’t where she needed to be and was about to turn to leave when she heard a soft male voice from behind her.

Brystle, at first startled, turned and faced the young man. His delicate features matched the softness of his voice. She knew who he was even though they had not met

And so Heathen took his seat at the grand piano and started to play. Almost immediately Brystle was captivated by the melody, it was mesmerizing. She was also captivated by the very movements of Heathen’s fingers across the ivories. Heathen continued to play effortlessly and with precision. Brystle took a seat beside him and waited until he had finished.

Heathen took a seat by Brystle and the two started chatting away like they had known each other for years. After spending time getting to know one another and brightening one another’s day Heathen started to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He even felt that there would be a chance to make amends with Burke.

At last Brystle felt that she had made a positive connection with another individual in the house other than Burke. It was a weight off her heavily shoulder padded shoulders but there was still the matter of Mayhew to sort out and that was where she had to go next. But first she needed an outfit change….

Millionaire playboy ,and heir to the DolbyDoh fortunes ,Seth Dolby was entertaining his latest female acquaintance, the delightful Minus Manners. He had met her only recently, about an hour ago to be precise, on a flight into San Myshuno International Airport aboard the private DolbyDoh jet. Seth had been returning from an extended stay in the hedonistic gambling city of Lucky Palms. Minus had just started her first day on the job as the DolbyDoh jet’s stewardess and couldn’t believe her luck when the handsome playboy began flirting with her.

Once the flight landed Seth whisked her off in his waiting limo. In the back of the limo they could barely keep their hands off one another and smooched passionately all the way to Seth’s apartment. Once there they continued their afternoon amorous activities including a steamy shower together. Afterwards the flirting continued with Seth showing off his fine physique…

They took their canoodling to the couch where Minus proceeded to demonstrate the power of her hands by giving Seth a sensual massage.

As things got steamy in the apartment, Seth’s uncle Cyril was arriving to pay his nephew an unexpected visit following his earlier meeting with Fathom at the art gallery.

Being a very forthright man, Cyril let himself into the apartment without knocking. Seth was surprised but happy to see his uncle and quickly leapt up to welcome him. Minus was less than impressed by this intrusion not realising that Cyril was the CEO and founder of DolbyDoh. In other words her boss!

Seth then introduced Minus to his uncle. Minus spoke politely and hid her annoyance rather well. Cyril ,however, viewed the girl with disdain for he had come here on a mission -he had plans for Seth. No 2 bit, good time girl was going to get in his way.

Seth offered his uncle a seat as he himself sat back down on the sofa. Seizing his chance Cyril leapt forward and positioned himself nicely on the couch in between the prospective lovers.

The penny dropped for Minus and she realised who this older man was. She quickly got up and scurried herself off to the bedroom. Cyril turned his attention to Seth.

Seth got up from the sofa. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his uncle. Cyril had never disapproved of Seth’s playboy antics before and had in fact actively encouraged Seth to go out and enjoy himself as much as possible.

Cyril still had a plan to see through. As this stern father tactic was not working he decided to try a different approach.

Seth stopped in his tracks. Right then and there Cyril knew he had him in the palm of his hand. Seth had always loved Fathom and no other woman could fill the emptiness she had left behind when they broke up all those years ago. This was going to be easier than he thought.

And with that, Cyril left the apartment satisfied in the knowledge that he had successfully sown the seed of his deception in Seth’s mind. His nephew had never settled with any girl following the break up with Fathom when they were teenagers. His heart belonged to her. Fathom just had to play her part now. Cyril knew that deep down Fathom had feelings for Seth though she would not admit it. But she was a fickle girl and if Seth behaved like a love sick puppy then Fathom would probably run for the hills and his plan to take over Burke’s company WindenburgSimmington would be over before it had begun…

Seth was left in a state of total confusion. He had not seen much of Fathom these past couple of years save for what he read about her on online gossip columns. She had broken off with Seth claiming she was bored of him so to learn that she had been in love with him all this time seemed unreal. He staggered into his bedroom where the scantily dressed Minus waited for him but his thoughts were now of Fathom.

Minus was about to say something but instead Seth took her in his arms and began intensely smooching her. Minus did not complain, not even when Seth whispered another woman’s name in her ear…

And then after a false start, Minus finally got her man into bed. He may have been thinking of another woman but Minus was determined to show Seth the time of his life and woohoo his brains out.

As it was the eve of his wedding Burke had decided to leave the office early. Being the CEO and founder of a global corporation meant he still had a lot of matters to see to and as such he had his right hand man with him in his study, lawyer and good friend Andre Wayward.

Andre and Burke went back years and Burke had given Andre his first job straight out of law school. Andre had stood by Burke over the years and helped him build WindenburgSimmington into the mega global corporation it now was. A very resourceful lawyer, Andre has found the means to help Burke out of any sticky situation be it work or personal. It is this lifelong friendship that has made Andre look out for Burke and to prevent anyone from taking advantage of the billionaire. Including potential new wives…

Andre was of course referring to Burke’s first marriage. That Mrs Simmington had been paid off with a small fortune to leave Windenburg and never return. Whilst it hadn’t financially ruined Burke the scandal of it all almost did.

Andre hadn’t anticipated this response from Burke. His friend and client was always one step ahead of anyone at anytime, always pre-empting his opponent’s every move. That was how he had become so successful. To see him like this throwing caution to the wind was unheard of. Just what had Brystle done to him? Andre persisted with the prenuptial agreement.

Andre sighed, there would be no changing Burke’s mind. This was more like him, always sticking to his guns on something he believed in. Only this time Andre feared this would end up costing him dearly. And he wanted to state for the record his opinion on the matter.

Burke considered the file momentarily before shaking his head.

Andre too shook his head but in pure disbelief that Burke was behaving like this. He shook his friend’s hand told him while he disagreed with his decision he wished nothing but the best for him and Brystle. But, as every good lawyer knows, keeping a poker face when hiding the truth is the key to being a success. Andre’s thoughts were not what he was vocalising.

Across town Brystle had gone to Central Park. She had gone there in the hope of meeting someone who she knew to frequent the park for his post work / early evening jog. She stood in the gazebo and gazed at all the happy couples casually strolling through the park. Everyone seemed so joyful, without any cares. Why didn’t Brystle feel this way? It was her wedding tomorrow, she was to be a bride, she should be euphoric. But there was something pressing on her mind.

It was getting late, there were rain clouds rolling in. Just when she thought he wouldn’t show, there was the sound of footsteps on the wooden gazebo behind her. The smell of musky cologne filled the air, it was the type that had a ship on the bottle. Brystle salivated at the whiff of it knowing who was wearing that all too familiar scent.

Heathen had been notified from Joseph that his sister Fathom had returned home and she was having cocktails on the lanai by the swimming pool. He had also instructed the house staff not to inform Fathom that he was here already as he wanted to surprise his sister. So after slipping into some outdoor gear Heathen made his way to the lanai.

After spending a few moments reminiscing the siblings sat down together. Heathen looked around at the house and a wealth of memories came flooding back, not all of them were pleasant.

The mention of Heathen’s boyfriend Fred was obviously a sore point. Fathom was keen to learn more but knowing that Heathen would clam up she decided not to pursue the subject for now. Heathen was already keen to move the conversation along.

The siblings laughed and joked like old times. Heathen made a promise to hang around for a while after the wedding which delighted Fathom.

After a few cocktails they both ended up flat on their backs looking up at the towering trees that were in the Siloli grounds. The conversation by now was less frivolous and for the first time Heathen touched upon a subject that had always been taboo for them both.

They both lay in silence for a while after that for what else could be said about the woman who had seemingly abandoned them as children? It was something that had haunted them as they grew up, the absent mother who never made contact with her children again. Whilst Fathom seemed she could care less whether or not she would see her again, Heathen always believed that their mother would one day return. Perhaps that day would be sooner than he thought…..

Across town at Central Park, Brystle was with her former lover Mayhew….

Brystle turned and faced Mayhew. He looked super hot in his skimpy short shorts. She tried to avert her eyes.

Joseph’s insinuation that he knew something had fuelled Brystle’s anxiety and was the reason she had come here to ask Mayhew that question. That and to catch one final glimpse of those rock hard thighs….

She was trying her best but her eyes were being drawn south….

Brystle felt that she was being torn in two. Her love for Burke was great but seeing those thighs of Mayhew’s again had set her pulse racing. There was only one way to deal with it and that was to cut Mayhew loose.

Mayhew looked crestfallen. Brystle felt so guilty for upsetting him. She sat herself next to him on the bench.

Mayhew was right. At that moment she realised she still had feelings for Mayhew all along. Was it love? Was it possible to be in love with 2 Sims at the same time?

Sensing he had hit a nerve Mayhew got up to leave. A rain cloud suddenly burst in the sky over them and a downpour ensued.

With that he ran out of the gazebo into the rain and vanished from her sight.

Brystle stood and looked out across the rain soaked city. A storm was fast approaching. And it appeared to Brystle at that moment that there would be no sunshine for her after all…..

Will Brystle ever get to see Mayhew’s magnificent manly thighs again? Can we just get to her wedding already? What information has Andre discovered on Brystle? What is the name of the first Mrs Simmington? And will Seth make a total tit of himself declaring his love for Fathom? Stay tuned for the next exciting episode!

#dynasty #sims 4 #sims #thesims #thesims4 #the sims 4 #simslit #soap opera #blake carrington #krystle carrington #fallon carrington #steven carrington #80s tv #80s soap

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constantconfusion111 · 4 years

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Etched into your skin - Chapter 2

Here’s the second chapter everyone. Thanks everyone for the likes/reblogs and kind comments, you’re the best! TRIGGER WARNING: Brief mention about past Tharn/San. That relationship is so weird I'd rather tag it in case anyone reading has a hard time with it. This mention is in the first half of the chapter.

AO3 link Link to chapter 1

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Type Thiwat Phawattakun

That was a boy’s name etched onto his chest. He’s always looked at it upside down, following the curves and loops of each letter with his eyes or a finger. His heartbeat was the strongest just under that patch of skin.

As a child, when he had yet to learn how to read, he’d asked his parents or P’Thorn to read it to him slowly, helping him trace each character as it was pronounced. Type’s name was the first thing he learned how to write and how to read. He knew that name before his own even though, comparatively, Kirigun was way easier to remember.

He used to think Type’s name was actually his. He introduced himself as Type to his teachers at school, signed that name on his homework and tests. Tharn didn’t remember that, his dad liked to remind him whenever he got into one of these nostalgic moods about his children being grown now. What he does remember is naming his childhood plushy ‘Type’. He refused to go anywhere without it, sleeping with it every night, playing with it every day. He still had it on a shelf in his room, unable to throw it away despite its old age.

Tharn liked to listen to people’s stories about their soulmates. Even the simplest ones had something comforting woven into each detail. It made him feel safe, knowing there was someone out there that was just for him to have. That someone was Type.

“Have you ever thought of being with someone that wasn’t your soulmate?”

Tharn raised his eyes from his homework, blinking slowly at Lhong as the question registered in his mind. He hummed pensively, considering carefully.

“I guess… maybe? I’m not too sure...”

He hadn’t ever felt strong feelings for anyone yet, he was barely 14 and so far the only thing that really got his attention was music and his drums. He had started to notice that some boys were… very nice looking. Sometimes, P’San looks at him in a certain way. He used to look at him the same way P’Thorn does. Not so much anymore. Tharn wasn’t too sure what to do with that.

“Well,” Lhong voice startled him out of his reverie. “What if you don’t meet your soulmate till you’re like, 30?”

“That’s far away,” he conceded. Hopefully Type wouldn’t make him wait that long.

“It is! You’re not going to stay alone all this time, right? And when you meet them, you need to know what you’re doing, right?”

Maybe it could be cute to learn with them. Maybe they could be awkward together. Maybe he’ll kiss Type and it’s going to be weird, but they’ll get the hang of it more and more with each new kiss. Maybe Type could be the first and last person to kiss his name. He’ll feel Tharn’s heartbeat against his lips. Maybe he’ll ask Type to retrace the letters, to read it out loud slowly just for him.

“Maybe…”

He ends up in a classroom alone with P’San who takes his first kiss and first time. He can’t say he regrets that Type hadn’t been the one to make him realise bottoming wasn’t for him. It had been strange. He’d rather not dwell on it too much. P’San hadn’t touched his name though, just like he hadn’t dared look too much at the character’s on the boy’s thigh.

Under the shower, he briefly wondered if Type had had sex with someone else too.

He didn’t dwell on that either, it was strange and unpleasant.

“Hey Tharn!”

Tharn turned toward a big group of his classmates, all huddled around a magazine, seemingly fascinated by whatever they were looking at.

“What are you guys reading?”

As he approached, he could only focus on the giant hearts on the pink glossed pages.

“I stole my sister’s magazine. It’s about the position of soulmate name.”

Tharn laughed, resting against Lhong to try to get a good look.

“That’s very romantic of you Jay, I didn’t know you cared.”

Jay tutted, brandishing the magazine like a coveted prize despite everyone else's protests.

“This is junk, but girls read it. It’s a great ice breaker.”

“Shut up and tell us what it says already!”

“Okay, okay! What an ungrateful crowd! So… what do you guys want to know?”

“Is there anything about soulmarks on the back?”

Tharn looked down at Lhong. He knew Lhong’s name ran all along his spine, remembers Lhong confessing he’ll never be able to see the name with his own two eyes, that sometimes it felt like the writing wasn’t there at all. Tharn had felt sad for him, he couldn’t imagine not being able to look down and just see, as surely as he could feel his heartbeat.

“In the back… In the back… In the back they say ‘People with a soulmark on their back are secretive. They want to protect themselves from the world and are afraid of being open with others. These people tend to stay stuck in the past, unable to let go of their hardships and the things that hurt them. They can hold grudges for years, so try to not piss them off too much, or you’ll be faced with a terrible enemy!’ That’s so rough man! And that’s so not you Lhong. What a piece of trash!” many laughed at the harsh profiling, some even clapping the young man in the back playfully. “Ah wait, there’s also about relationship for people with a back placement. ‘Being in a relationship with them can be a challenge as you’ll probably have to do a lot of emotional heavy lifting. Their distrustful nature implies a lot of hard work will be necessary to get into their good grace. However, once they open their hearts to you, they’re the ride or die crowd. Loyal to a fault, they’ll believe in you no matter what and will always be there to catch you if you fall. Back placement people are the embodiment of ‘high risk, high reward’. Their best matches are: chest, thigh, and belly placement'.”

That, Tharn could agree with. Lhong was his best friend and had been for years. He knew for a fact that the other boy would be there for him no matter what.

“What about the chest placement,” Tharn asked, curious to see how accurate the prediction would be for him.

“Of course you’re a chest placement,” observed Jay as he looked for the right section.

“So dreamy,” said one.

“So romantic,” replied the other.

“For the chest.. ‘The chest placement, called Lover’s placement because of its overuse in romantic movies, is often found on passionate people. They tend to let their emotions guide them and would rather listen to the impulse of their hearts than the voice of reason inside their head. Brave and secure of who they are, chest placements tend to be great leaders as their caring nature pushes them to try and look out for the majority’. Well, this one is more accurate at least! For your relationship… ‘If thigh placement are considered the champions of physical relationships, chest placement are known everywhere as the pros of romance. They’ll bring out the best in their partners and will always give their whole heart to their relationship. Be careful though, as their passionate nature can make them impulsive, and sometimes jealous. Their best matches are: face, thigh, arm, and back placement’.”

Tharn wondered. Was he really all these things?

What could Type possibly be? Each placement had their own clichés. Thigh people were sensual but fickle. Chest, passionate but temperamental. Face, straightforward but angry. Shin, adventurous but irresponsible. Ribs, soft but pushovers. Back, distrustful but loyal.

His mum had a chest placement, just like him. His dad’s was on his forearm. Thorn and Tanya had theirs just hugging their hip.

He wondered where Tharn Thara Kirigun was written.

For his 16th birthday, just before their traditional family dinner, the whole family goes to city hall together. Tharn feels jittery as he completes his paperwork. The beat of his own heart is deafening, and for a second he stops breathing. The employee seems to take an eternity to input his information into their software.

No match. They would notify him by mail as soon as Type would register.

His disappointment must be clear as day on his face, Thorn gripped him into a side hug, offering him a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry N’Tharn. I didn’t get my match either at first. It’ll happen.”

On their way back home, they all gave him a wide breadth, talking among themselves while Tharn was slowly getting lost in thoughts.

Was Type younger than him? Did he not register? If not, why wouldn’t he? Didn’t he want to meet Tharn? Did he not want to be found? He had tried so hard to rein in his enthusiasm and bring down his expectations. He still crashed down hard that night.

At least Type wasn’t dead, they would have told him otherwise.

There’s nothing he could do. He just had to be patient.

After his 16th birthday, Tharn started to date more. A first boy, then a second when the first one matched. He’d even tried to go out with a girl, but that really hadn’t done it for him. Then there was Tar.

Tar wasn’t Type. But Tar definitely had his heart. Tar who had a French name written on his lower ribs.

It was almost easy to overlook, he could hide the name with his arms during hugs, could bury his nose in Tar’s neck when they made love.

Type’s name was harder to ignore.

At the end of high school, as he was looking for a condo he could share with his boyfriend not too far from their university, Tar announced he’d received an art scholarship. For a Parisian’s school.

Not only was it a great opportunity, it was destiny calling for him.

He couldn’t refuse, he told Tharn. He had to go, he explained, crying as he was breaking up with his boyfriend of a year. He had to meet the owner of his name, is what he didn’t say. It’s all Tharn heard, though.

His last summer before university was spent mourning his relationship, mending his broken heart by beating the pain away on the drums.

“Tharn! A letter from university is here, come and get it.”

He thanked his mum and she urged him to open it. It was about his dorm.

Welcome, we’re very proud you decided to join our University.... All students are allowed to get their keys from…shared dorm… assigned roommate: Type Phawattakun.

It was time. It was his turn. He had been waiting for it for years. He didn’t have his first kiss to give, nor his first time, or even his first ‘I love you’. He still wanted to feel someone tracing over that name and whisper it against his lips though.

#tharntype the series #tharntype #tharn x type #soulmate

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snarkybluechristian · 4 years

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Hazbin Hotel: Yandere Alastor x Vaggie Chapter 28

Vaggie woke up first the next morning. She immediately realized something was lying against her. Her blindfold kept her from seeing what it was and her bonds kept her from moving away, but it didn't take long to figure out who it probably was.

Alastor slept soundly until he felt Vaggie begin to struggle and curse behind her gag. He quickly opened his eyes and lifted his head when he noticed his lover struggling against her restraints and smiled.

“Good morning, my darling wife,” Alastor said cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

Hearing his voice only made Vaggie thrash more furiously.

So, Alastor reached out a clawed hand over Vaggie’s eyes and swiftly removed the blindfold.

Vaggie laid there blinking to recover her vision until her eyes found Alastor sitting up next to her and settled into a glare.

“It’s so nice to be in your company, my love,” Alastor said happily as he snapped his fingers and made the blindfold disappear.

Vaggie simply glared back at him, not giving Alastor the satisfaction of hearing her attempt to speak through her gag.

“Now then,” Alastor said. “If you promise to behave, I will remove your gag and untie you. Okay?”

Vaggie replied with a head nod and Alastor got to work.

Alastor got up from the bed, moved over to Vaggie’s head, and untied the gag from Vaggie’s mouth. Vaggie remained surprisingly silent as he moved on to untying the rest of her.

Alastor hummed a showtune as he untied Vaggie’s wrist and ankle on one side of the bed while his magic telekinetically untied the wrist and ankle on the other side.

As soon as her wrists and ankles were free, Vaggie stood up, threw the coat off her, walked past Alastor and straight into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her without saying a word.

Alastor sighed and shook his head, chuckling as he walked out of the room. Vaggie was so fickle.

As soon as Vaggie had used the toilet, washed her hands, and heard Alastor shut the door and lock the locks to her bedroom door, she knocked on the bathroom wall to get Angel’s attention.

Angel groaned in pain as he knocked back.

“Angel,” Vaggie said in relief. “Thank God! Are you alright? What did Rosie do to you?”

Angel scoffed and replied, “You mean, aside from fucking me until I was in and out of consciousness? Nothing really. I’ll give that hag credit. She’s got more stamina than any man I’ve ever slept with.”

“Oh, God,” Vaggie said in disgust.

“What did Alastor do to you?” Angel asked.

“He gagged and blindfolded me after he tied my wrists and ankles to the legs of the bed,” Vaggie replied angrily. “And then, when I was asleep, that shitlord came back to sleep next to me.”

Angel didn’t respond, but Vaggie could feel the panic behind his silence.

“Vaggie, you might not want to think about it, but are you sure that was all that he did?” Angel finally asked.

Vaggie thought for a moment in a panic before she said, “I didn’t wake up to any pain or feel any blood on me…so, I’m sure he didn’t anything.”

Angel sighed in relief and said, “Good.”

“Wait,” Vaggie said. “Why are you worried about me? You just spent a whole night getting raped.”

Angel scoffed and said, “I’m a slut, doll. I’m used to it. You ain’t.”

Vaggie chuckled and replied, “You’re taking this far too lightly.”

“It helps to have a since of humor when you’re in hell, Vaggie,” Angel replied as he shuffled himself into a more comfortable position in his spot against the wall.

Just then, a thought crossed Vaggie’s mind.

“Angel, when were you last fed?” Vaggie asked. “By Alastor or Rosie? Have either of them provided you a meal since you arrived?”

Angel scoffed and said, “Not a bite. Nothing for sustenance other than those damn smoothies. You know that. Why are you asking?”

“Alastor’s starving you to make you more compliant for the auction tomorrow.”

“Duh.”

“I need to get Alastor to feed you.”

“I can survive on smoothies, doll. You don’t need to stick your neck out for me. You can’t afford to.”

“I don’t think we can afford not to. You need to be strong.”

“Vaggie…”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Vaggie turned her head to the source of the sound outside her bathroom door, paused for a moment, and nervously said, “Hello? Is someone there?”

“Yes, Vaggie. It’s me,” Alastor’s voice answered from the other side. “Are you alright in there? I’ve freshened myself up for the day, and so, I thought I’d come back to check on you.”

Vaggie’s heart sank in terror. Alastor had barely been gone for a few minutes. She thought they were alone. How much had he heard?

Alastor knocked again and asked, “Vaggie, are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Vaggie snapped. “What do you want?!”

“Merely to check up on you, my dear.”

“As if you actually care how I feel. Go away!”

“I just want to know how my wife is doing.”

“Pissed, if I’m honest.”

“And why is that, my dear?” Alastor asked bemusedly.

“Well, you slept on me after you tied me to a bed, gagged me, and blindfolded me for one thing!” Vaggie snapped. “For another, you haven't fed Angel once since we arrived!”

“Vaggie, what are you doing?” Angel asked from the other side of the wall.

Alastor scoffed and said, “That overgrown bluenose needed to learn some manners. You did as well.”

“Says the demon who slept with a woman he isn't married to,” Vaggie retorted.

“But dear, that is all I did,” Alastor said defensively. “I only slept next to you. Not once did I touch you inappropriately.”

“You waited until I was asleep and too restrained to do anything about it!” Vaggie protested. “You didn’t ask!”

Alastor chuckled loudly and replied, “Why would I need to ask? I’m your soon-to-be husband.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Vaggie snarled. “Why have you been starving Angel?”

“Vaggie…” Angel tried to protest.

“Simple,” Alastor interrupted. “Most customers prefer lean and thin slaves. Don’t they?”

“Yeah, not starved out ones!” said Vaggie. “By the time the auction happens tomorrow, Angel will be too weak to stand!”

“Vaggie, it’s sweet how worried you are about the sexual deviant, but need I remind you that we are dead and cannot die again of natural causes?” Alastor asked. “Starving Angel until tomorrow won’t kill him.”

“Neither will feeding him!” Vaggie spat back. “If you love me as much as you claim to, you will feed Angel every meal today and tomorrow!”

“Hey. Since we’re talking about food, can Vaggie and I get omelets?” Angel chimed in.

“Yeah,” Vaggie replied. “I also want to eat the meal with Angel in this room or I’m not eating at all.”

“Of course, my dear,” Alastor said. “I’d do anything to make you happy…”

Vaggie smiled until Alastor said, “But I have one condition. You two are not to be close and affectionate with each other in any way.”

“Don’t worry, ya big, red prude,” Angel replied before Vaggie could. “I won’t even touch her.”

“For your sake, you best not,” Alastor replied. “As long as you don’t, you may eat.”

“Sweet,” Angel said weakly as he tentatively got himself on his feet with the help of his crutches.

“You will take Angel and the food to my room,” Vaggie said. “I’m going to take a shower to get a night’s worth of your sweat off me and both of them will be in my room for breakfast. Do you understand?”

“Very well, my darling,” Alastor said.

“Thank you,” Vaggie said. “Angel, I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it, babe,” Angel said as he painfully limped on his crutches towards the door.

“Me, too,” Vaggie said as she turned on the water to her shower.

Once Alastor was sure Vaggie was taking her shower, he left the room to retrieve Angel.

Alastor unlocked the door to Angel’s room and let his prisoner out.

Angel Dust meanwhile was shaking on his crutches as he struggled to walk to Vaggie’s room.

His once strong and powerful legs that let him jump like the jumping spider he was were reduced to muscle-less twigs. The one leg that had the busted knee was swollen from the infection that was starting to stink underneath its bandages. And much like his legs, Angel’s chest and arms were so thin that even Vaggie would be able to snap him in half like a twig. Heavy and dark circles were lined under Angel’s eyes and his fluffy hair was greasy and sticky with sweat and blood. His coat was torn and draped over his shoulders like a blanket. Only his shorts and his choker remained perfectly intact.

Angel winced from the pain and from his bare feet touching the cold floor as his eyes moved up to meet Alastor’s.

Alastor flashed a sadistic smile at Angel’s pitiful condition that melted into a pensive expression as he allowed him to hobble into the hallway.

Angel noticed, smiled defiantly, and said, “You like what you see handsome?”

“No,” Alastor said coming out of his thoughts and thoughtfully moving his head to the side. “Your knee doesn’t look very good. Neither does the rest of you for that matter. Your clothes are absolutely filthy. Your fur looks more disgusting than usual. Your infection stinks to high heaven…”

Angel tilted his head wearily and said, “So, what are you gonna do about it? Summon the harpy who attacked me last night to do something about it?”

“No, Rosie is at her home resting, so your care falls on me,” Alastor said as he turned to strike his staff on the ground and summon his familiars. “Now, come along. I must get you freshened up for breakfast.”

Angel’s weary eyes instantly perked up.

“Oh, yeah?” Angel asked seductively hobbling a step closer to Alastor. “Does that mean what I think it does, handsome?”

“Quite possibly,” Alastor said directing his deer familiars in Angel’s direction. “Take Angel to my bathroom and bathe him while I get started on those omelets if you please.”

Angel’s eyes flashed fearfully as the deer familiars picked him up and carried him off to be cleaned.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic

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thisunfoldinglife · 4 years

Text

How I Came To Live in the Woods

Two years ago, my husband and I bought our dream house. This lovely seventies fixer-upper has robbed us of every last pound, consumed months of our time, and has signed us up for another decade of sweaty evenings and weekends spent painting, repairing, and renovating. We sometimes stop, paintbrush in hand, and ask each other, “any regrets?” Well…no—but we both pine for simpler times.

I look around and marvel at this big house and everything we’ve accumulated since our move to England. We arrived eight years ago with only a few suitcases and a handful of hopes. Unlike normal people, we didn’t ship our furniture and household goods from America. Instead, we had a massive yard sale and sold the rest on Craig’s List. I said goodbye to my sewing machine, guitar, bike, and camping equipment. We had to rebuy everything from brooms to blankets, dishes to clocks, silverware to shoes. It’s amazing how long it takes to rebuild your collection of stuff, especially when money is scarce.

Yet all this didn’t faze me. I was already well versed in the art of minimalism. When I was twenty-eight, all my worldly possessions resided inside the boot of my car. They would remain there for two years, while I tried out life as a vagabond. When you’re young, the promise of adventure can outweigh all fear. When it’s just you—no partner, no kids—just you and the great big sky, there are more chances you can take.

It all started after reading Brazilian writer Paulo Coelho’s book, “The Pilgrimage”, which sparked my desire to embark on a solo journey to Northern Spain to walk a 500-mile pilgrimage route that’s existed since the Middle Ages. Looking back, my decision to walk this ancient path set into motion a new trajectory for my life that wouldn’t be altered for several years. Walking the path for forty days, with nothing in my backpack but my journal, clothes, food, and water, certainly perfected my predilection for a minimal existence, but it was truly the time before and after the pilgrimage, that tested my resolve to embrace the unconventional life.

I was desperate to get to Spain. I had travelled the length and breadth of The States, but outside of a quick hop to London, I hadn’t properly travelled overseas. I didn’t have any form of savings to purchase a plane ticket or even feed myself for the two months I’d be gone, yet still, I couldn’t ignore the pull to go. I had a sharp distaste for fear and regret, and a stronger desire to be the bold protagonist in my own life story, so I needed to find a way.

I was living at the time in Flagstaff, Arizona. This high-desert mountain town boasts turquoise blue skies and perpetual sunshine to beckon everyone outdoors. At 7,000 feet above sea level, it’s cooler than its neighbouring desert towns, and yields deep winter snows that will never meet the cacti of the south. Flagstaff’s natural beauty draws an alternative collection of hikers, skiers, hippies, and transients. The cost of living is high, but the desire to be there great, and so many people find whatever means they can to stay. I had heard about a few odd souls who camped in the surrounding national forest for weeks at a time. I would be one of them. It was the most feasible means of funding my travels. I was renting an apartment then, with a kindred friend, Marike. Partial to avoiding conformity, she too, knew the value in travel and adventure, and so she wasn’t hard to convince. Together, we gave up our apartment to head for the woods. I quickly sold my furniture, giving away everything that wouldn’t fit inside my small Toyota. All I had left were my books, photos, clothing and gear.

Marike and I set up our first camp in a clearing of aspens and pines a mile down a long dirt lane. It was close enough to make the morning trek to work, yet far enough from the main road to ease our minds about cops or potential serial killers. My tent was narrow and thin, but sufficient. We’d forage for firewood, heat cans of soup on the stove at night and pour water for each other to wash up in the morning. Every other day, we’d pay to shower at the local hostel. Being April, the snow still fell, and so the coldest nights would find us curled up in the car beneath heaps of blankets, where sleep was fickle and fragmented. It was challenging, uncomfortable, and at times scary, but also exhilarating. The difficulties were dotted with starry skies, deep conversations, and the perpetual fresh mountain air that magically invigorated us despite it all. I felt raw and alive, my eyes open and senses heightened. My inner strength was blossoming, and my fears grew smaller, giving way to a confidence that began to permeate all aspects of my life.

Soon after, I left for Spain. Walking the pilgrimage was an epic alter reality that inspired and stimulated me daily. The path had brought many wonders and gifts—among them, a thirst for freedom, both internal and external. I felt tethered to nothing and life’s possibilities seemed boundless. The journey had liberated me from nearly all my money and material possessions, so when I returned to Flagstaff, I wasn’t ready to buy furniture, pay rent, and adopt a normal life. So, I returned to the woods. Marike had left for other adventures, and I was on my own, uncertain of how long I’d be there.

I was a vulnerable single woman alone in the forest, but through either ignorance or grace, I felt protected. I enjoyed the town and the trails by day and spent time with friends in the evening. I’d often find my way to the local bookstore before bed. Their late hours gave me a pseudo living room to read and write before driving back to the forest. On my way to the woods, I’d roll down the window to inhale the sweet smell of wood smoke escaping from well-lit houses, where people sprawled happily on couches, glasses of wine in hand. The line between liberating and lonely began to blur as winter closed in, but still, I was in a pleasant state of surrender. I believed life would shepherd me to extraordinary things, and magically it did.

At a random party, in a place I had never been, I met a married couple, Vickie and Bruce, who were soon to sail around the coast of Mexico for three months. I foolishly disregarded them as a wealthy privileged pair whom I’d have nothing in common with. Yet as our conversation grew, I quickly realised that they were making sacrifices to pursue their dreams, the same as I. And, when they asked me to look after their pets and home while they were away, I was humbled with euphoric gratitude. It was a blessed encounter that, not only granted me a home during the cold winter months but brought me a lasting friendship. For this couple, who were once two strangers, became dear friends. And their home became a haven of warmth and stability, to write, relax, and even grieve when my father unexpectedly died months after. And, two years later, when I met my husband, Vickie presided over our wedding.

Vickie and Bruce went on several long jaunts to Mexico, in which I was always happy to look after their home and pets. And in between, I found several other house-sitting jobs. I stayed in homes with hot tubs and hammocks, along rivers and among mountains. The most remote dwellings were quiet and wild, and I’d spy elk, coyote, and bear. Some were affluent, and afforded me weeks of luxury, soaking in big baths, lounging on plush furniture and dining in stylish kitchens. Others were more rustic. One January, I looked after a cat in a converted camper van on the edge of town. Without any electricity or water, the camper had only a small built-in wood burner to shield me from the worst of the winter cold. In three feet of snow, I’d chop logs into kindling and fall asleep to a roaring fire that demanded to be rebuilt several hours later, yanking me from sleep to action.

When one job finished, another would harmoniously begin. I only occasionally camped in the woods in the interims. Everything seemed to fall into place to facilitate this unconventional existence. It gave me courage, trust, confidence, and the precious gift of time. In escaping from the rat race, I bought myself time—to simply be—a luxury I have so little of now. It’s hard to believe I lived like that for two years. But in my wandering spell, I’d somehow cultivated true peace within myself. And even now, in life’s most constricting moments, my soul still wanders free because of it.

My vagabond days eventually proved their limitations, and I began to crave a place of my own. With great resistance, I exchanged my car—which brought me such freedom—for an apartment, where I acquired a rescue cat, a collection of mismatched furniture, and soon after, my husband.

I look around now at all this stuff—sofas and beds, tables and toys. I never thought I’d accumulate so much. Yet instead of weighing me down, it pleasantly anchors me. I think children need rooms and toys to call their own. As do I. And from the comfort of my couch, I now enjoy the smell of wine and wood-smoke from my own chimney. Someday I might don my backpack again and set off on another pilgrimage. Maybe I’ll even find a quiet spot in the forest to dwell for a while. But first, this house needs work and love, and as it’s filled to the brim, there is no more room for regret.

#minimalism #meaningoflife #introspectivewriting #whatarewedoinghere #~~#vagabondlife #rustic living

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punkcupcakestyles · 5 years

Text

Love Song

“Of course it does. I’m fucking cute.”

“You are. And I really want to kiss you right now.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

Catch up!

I had messed up, I knew that much, or at least a part of me, the smart one, knew it. The other part was reeling in excitement, a smile plastered on my face as I kept replaying the kiss in my head.

God, that kiss.

I could remember every second of it, the sweetness of his lips, and the eagerness of his touch as he explored, with nails scraping lightly on my skin as his fingers dug on the curves of my body.

We had kissed until our lips were swollen and there was no more air in our lungs.

"Sorry," He had chuckled as he broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to look at me. His fingers were caressing down my arms, so softly that a million goosebumps rose at his wake, and I couldn't help but let out a shaky breath. His lips were as purple as mine, swollen with the kisses we had shared, and his cheeks were pink flushed, giving him a boyish look that only added to his already ridiculous charm.

"S'okay," I whispered, the warm fuzziness of the kiss still buzzing on my kiss. I could feel it on my chest, as my heart thumped in somewhat joy and somewhat guilt. It made my fingers prickle and my brain to jump from one memory to the other, still uncertain that it hadn't been just a fickle of its active imagination. Real or just my imagination, I was never going to have a kiss like that again.

But then again, it hadn't been just a kiss, it was a moment of complete abandon, one where I had let curiosity win the battle, and allowed myself to go far beyond from where I was supposed to go.

I wished I had kissed him a little more, with those butterfly kisses you see in the movies, with my hands cupping his face and his own fingers tangled in my hair. It would've been a lot nicer that way. But instead, I had untangled myself from him and went to sit right by his side, my fingers slipping from his as he allowed me to go.

It was easier to breathe that way, easier to think too, without the temptation of his cherry lips so close to me. I smiled shyly and my fingers knotted in my hair, bringing it behind my ear, in a clumsy attempt to give myself something to do.

"What I said earlier was true, y'know?" Harry finally said, breaking the air that was filled with tense electricity, the same one that was bubbling in my tummy and prickling on the tip of my fingers. His words made me look at him, deep into his eyes this time, and to notice the curiosity that was burning in them. "I can play by your rules."

"I thought what you said earlier was that we could be friends."

"That too. I'd really like that too. I just...I just got a feeling they're important to you." His smile was sincere and shy, his little dimples popping out on his face as he cast down his gaze. What was I supposed to say, anyway?

"So, no more kisses?"

"We can figure that out." His smirk grew and I realized just how stupidly easy it was for him to jump from a sweet boy to the dashing man he actually was. He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth and leaned just a little bit, enough so his breath fanned over my skin and I could smell his cologne. "We just need to behave," he whispered, a secret for both of us to keep and break.

"I behave, Styles," I whispered back. "Maybe you should be the one to stop smirking and...kissing me."

"I'll try my best. Can't promise anything, though."

"You're an idiot," I giggled for a second, before inhaling deeply as I licked my lips. For the first time that night, I failed to look him in the eyes. "It's not about sex, you'know?" It wasn't. I had no idea what it was about, though. I just needed those rules, that security, that sense of control, the idea of being in charge of something, of anything, really.

"You don't have to explain why they're important, Sof, I just know that they are. That's enough, innit?" He said, and the sincerity in his voice made me smile, and look at him as his fingertips brushed lightly over my hand, a simple touch meant to reassure me. "What?"

"Haven't met many guys like you, Harry," I said. "I still can't figure out if that's a good thing."

"It's a sad thing for sure."

"It is," I chuckled, even if there was not much to laugh about. His lips were sweet and soft when they met mine in a quick kiss, fingers cupping gingerly around my face as he pulled me closer. Just a second, not long enough to get lost in him, but able to make my breath hitch.

"That was the last one," he whispered as he broke the kiss.

"You promise?"

"I can't," he smirked in response. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Now? It's almost day!"

"I know, but I, uh, I need a minute alone. Or maybe two," he replied bashfully, and it took me a couple of seconds to realize what he meant. When I did, I looked away from him, so I could hide the flush on my cheeks.

"Go."

15 minutes had gone by and Harry still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Time was my enemy, really, cause it gave me the opportunity to think, to dwell on the awkwardness and regret the things that didn't happen, and the ones that weren't going to happen. The more I thought, the more nervous I got, dry mouth and thumping heart.

The shower finally stopped running and I could hear Harry as he rummaged through the bathroom, getting ready to come out. I closed my eyes and let myself slid into the covers, pretending to be asleep when I heard the door open. A sigh echoed in the air, a couple of steps and a door closing again. The lights were off and I was alone in bed.

Harry had left.

***

- INFO YOU NEED TO KNOW -

Name of the show: The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon

Host: Jimmy Fallon

Time slot: 11:35/10:35 C

Location: New York

Who will be featured with you?: Saoirse Ronan and John Legend.

Sketches: You’ll be participating on either Box of Lies (he’ll give you an object and you either lie your ass off or tell the truth about it, while he tries to guess); Dance Battle (there is a dance move generator); or Egg Russian Roulette (literally, you’ll be cracking eggs over your head).

You’re gonna be wearing an Elie Saab black dress with a plunging neckline (it’s already picked, Midge loved it). We would very much rather if you didn’t play the Egg Russian Roulette. We’ll see what we can do.

Jimmy Fallon laughs a lot. Try to ignore that.

If asked about Harry, divert. We’re still not talking about it.

We’ll leave to New York at 3. Be early.

I left a new script at your place this morning. I would like to touch basis with you on the plane, see if it’s anything that interests us. (I wonder where you were 🤔)

We’re having dinner with Harry and his friends tonight. We’ll be arriving at the hotel at around 9ish, so you won’t have a lot of time to get ready. I left a couple of outfit options as well.

BTW, we need to talk.

***

Maybe I could still make it. After all, it was only 12:15, which left me a little less than 3 hours to go home, take a shower, pack, and get across town to board the flight.

I wasn’t going to make it.

Diana was gonna kill me.

I was dashing through the room, picking and piling the few things that belonged to me onto the bed, and sighing in desperation when I realized they would simply not fit into the ridiculously tiny purse I had with me.

There was no way I was putting on the dress I had the night before, I wasn’t looking forward to being seen on it as I left Harry’s house, or to have my picture taken as I did what it would look like a “walk of shame”. Instead, I had decided to keep on Harry’s clothes, even if his sweatpants felt tight around my ass and the upper part of my thighs. My hair was dangling dangerously from a top knot, threatening to fall apart if I moved too fast and my eyes were puffy from the lack of sleep.

God, let there be no paparazzi outside his home. I wasn’t photo-ready anyway.

“You look nice.” The voice startled me, making my heart jump before I turned hastily to look at him. There he was, leaning onto the door frame, as he wore a clean black t-shirt and black jeans, and he leaned onto the door frame.

Harry smiled in satisfaction at my reaction and slowly walked into the room. It was only then that I noticed the pink suitcase he was carrying, one that looked exactly like the one I used for short trips.

“Is that mine?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Diana called, asked if you were ready for the trip. I told her you were. Then I woke up Sam, called your sister and asked her to pack your stuff, and Sam went to get it,” he explained. “Perfect plan, innit?”

“Y-you talked to Cat?”

“Yeah...I know you said “no families”, but uh…”

“Thank you,” I replied softly before he could explain himself any further. He had saved my ass, after all.

I realized I wanted to kiss him, lightly and sweetly. A tiny peck on his cheeks, or a quick kiss on his lips, anything to have him close once more, to feel his warmth, and get a chance to nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck. That was something I probably shouldn’t do.

Harry brought the suitcase over the bed and sat next to it. It was pink and soft, covered everywhere with the bright orange logo of the high-end brand. It had been the first stupid purchase I had ever made after I had made sure we had a roof over our heads, food on our table and Cat was enrolled in a private school, all expenses already paid for. My mom was slowly coming out of her haze and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again. So I had bought it, a way to celebrate myself and the fact that we had peeked out of the darkness.

“What are you wearing?” Harry drawled, as I started to look for something to change into. My cheeks blushed, pink and hot, and I looked at him with a shy smile of my own.

“I, uh, didn’t want anyone to see me wearing the same clothes. I didn’t want the rumors.”

“So you decided to wear my clothes instead? That’s a great plan.”

“I didn’t think about that,” I smiled. I finally found a V-neck white tee, and a pair of light blue jeans that would be comfortable enough to travel in. “Where did you sleep?”

I wondered if the question had come off accusingly, or if it was as casual and carefree as I had intended it to be. Either way, I realized I shouldn’t have asked it.

“A guest room...”

“Oh.”

“I figured you wanted space. Didn’t you?”

I nodded in response, which was easier than to say what I was really thinking. Like it would’ve been nice for him to stay, or that his bed was too damn big for just one person.

I didn’t know if he quite believed me, a curious glint burning in his eyes as he looked at me. If he didn’t, he didn’t say anything, but licked his lips and remained silent as he let himself fall back on the bed. It shifted under his weight, and I smiled at him when he looked up.

“We should get our story straight, y’know?” He said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we should know our story, especially if we’re meeting my friends tonight.”

“Just tell’em the truth, Harry.”

“I really don’t wanna do that,” Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to look at the ceiling. He clasped his hands over his tummy and pressed his lips together, deep in thought.

“Ok, how about this?” I put my clothes down and climbed on the bed to lie by his side. “You saw me at a party, thought I was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, told Jeff that if he didn’t get my number you would burn down his house, and here we are!”

“That sounds like something that could happen,” he chuckled, turning to one side to face me. My smile widened as I looked at him and felt the soft tickles of his fingers as they snuck under my shirt. It was soft and sweet, meant to have me close to him and nothing else.

“Of course it does. I’m fucking cute.”

“You are. And I really want to kiss you right now.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

***

I had made it.

I was sitting on the leather chair, with my knees against my chest, as the plane got ready to take off. Diana, Jeff, Harry and I were the only passengers, and the two boys were talking as Diana sat in front of me.

“You know there’s a lot of actors out there that don’t travel with their agent everywhere?” I asked the blonde girl, who rose her eyebrow as she offered me a smirk.

“Consider yourself lucky, then,” she replied.

“I do.”

“Did you have time to check the script?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t.” I felt myself blush in embarrassment, as I looked at the way she rolled her eyes at me.

“Good thing I got a copy. See? Having your agent by your side is pretty useful,” she handed me a thick script, with a handwritten note on the first page, and the title of the movie written in bold caps.

“Dear Midge,

I think this would be perfect for Sofia, and Sofia would be perfect for us. Audrey wouldn’t have been Audrey without Holly.

To our new Holly.

Kisses,

B.”

“Breakfast at Tiffany's?” I chuckled in disbelief. “Are you crazy? This is one of the most beloved characters in cinema’ history.”

“I know.” She replied simply, a sweet smile replacing the sly one from before. “And they want you. This is a great remake. They’re gonna play Holly’s bisexuality and Paul’s homosexuality, which obviously wasn’t featured in the original one, she’s gonna be an actual scort, even smoke weed. You’re gonna be the Holly that Truman Capote intended her to be.”

“I’m gonna murder Holly,” I sighed. The script fell on the coffee table between our seats, and I got up from my chair to walk to the back of the plane, where they had coffee and snacks ready for us.

“Let’s do this.” I heard Diana say as she followed behind. “Read the script and we can talk about it later. The role is yours if you want it.”

It was time for me to roll my eyes at her.

I poured coffee for both of us and leaned into the counter as she stood by my side. For a second, it looked as if she had something to say, but didn’t know how; her lips rolled into her mouth and her eyes cast over the red coffeemaker. The silence upon us was suffocating, even for just a few seconds, and I cleared my throat to call her attention to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing. I just…” There were very few times where I had seen Diana struggle with words. Each time was scarier than the other. “I talked to your dad.”

“You what?” We were well out of earshot, but I still hissed my words under my breath. My heart felt as if it could stop at any second, racing fast and strong as Diana shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

“I, uh, he called, asked for you. I thought that, well, I’ve never heard you talk about him, so I decided to see him, find out what he wanted.”

“What did he want?”

“Nothing...He, uh, asked about you, about Cat, wanted to know you were ok. I made sure he was as comfortable as he could, and that he was able to go back home.”

“You gave him money…”

It was actually a relief, to see her doubt for a second right before she nodded. He wasn’t after me, or Cat, or mom. I could live with that.

“Yeah, Yeah,” Diana continued. “He didn’t want to, though. But I, I wanted him to…”

“Get the hell out of L.A.? Thank you, me too.”

“Yes, but he had this crazy story, y’know? About how you left home. Pretty fucking away from the standard ‘She always wanted to be an actress and we let her move to a corrupt city when she was way too young, so she could shoot her shot’ one.”

“D…”

“I don’t wanna know, Sof. We just need to make sure this doesn’t come out.”

“Yeah.”

“And please, consider the movie. We need a second Oscar,” she said in a loud voice, while she took both of our cups in her hands and turned to go back to her seat. “Better yet, win that first Oscar!”

I stood where I was, leaning against the counter as I tried to imagine what my father had told Diana. It could’ve been anything, even the truth. I was unable to move or even breathe, so I just stared at the group of people that were sitting in front of me. Harry was laughing loudly at something Diana had just said, while she sat primly on her chair. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and he leaned forward as his arms hugged around his own tummy. They seemed happy, far from the darkness that was pressing down my chest and making everything seem distant and bleak.

“Excuse me, miss? I need you to sit down, we’re about to hit some turbulence,” the petite flight attendant told me. She had popped out of nowhere, and I stared at her for a second, wondering how much, if any, of our conversation she had heard. She smiled shyly at me, but still, her firm hand guided me to my seat, repeating her order to everyone so they would sit.

Harry sat next to me and looked at me in surprise as I took his hand in mine. “Are you scared of flying?” He asked and I replied with a swift nod of my head. I wasn’t, I just needed something to anchor me to reality. Closing my eyes, I leaned back onto the chair and tried to focus on the loud thumps of my heart, counting them as Harry began to rub soothing circles on my skin.

“It’s ok,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

“We’ll fall together.”

“Literally.”

***

“So, let’s talk about sleeping arrangements,” Diana told me as the plane was landing.

I looked up from the script, which I had been reading during the whole flight, and quirked my eyebrow at her sheepish smile. Harry, whose head was resting on my shoulder as he slept, stirred just a bit in protest.

“What?”

“Well, Harry has an apartment in New York. We’re staying at a hotel in Tribeca and Harry would come and go as he pleases. Unless you want to stay in his apartment, he offered.”

“I’ll stay at the hotel.”

“That’s a good idea.” Diana smiled proudly.

Between landing and getting our things in the car, we arrived at the hotel at 9ish, just as Diana had predicted. What she hadn’t told me was the fact that there were going to be paparazzi waiting for me in front of the hotel. I glared at her as she offered me an apologetic smile, and without saying anything, she jumped out of the car, with Jeff following suit, to get our stuff.

Harry came out first and went to help Jeff carry our suitcases into the hotel. When it was my turn to come out, I just dashed to the entrance, getting into the hotel without answering or even acknowledging the insidious questions thrown my way. I wasn’t in the mood for them, or anyone really.

Diana and Jeff stayed at the lobby, while Harry and I got to the top floor of the hotel without saying a word. He stood right next to me during the whole ride, holding my suitcase on one and an overnight bag over his shoulder. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were puffy, revealing just how little sleep we had had the night before He looked tired, and somehow still managed to be the most handsome boy I had seen that night, week, year.

“You ok?” He asked as the elevator opened its doors and we were met with a pristine corridor. The hotel, that mostly looked like a remodeled speakeasy bar, was spotless and modern, with high ceilings and trendy decoration.

“Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“Wanna skip tonight’s dinner?” He offered, waiting for me to open the door to the room.

“I’m sorry, yes, I’m not in the mood for people. Do you mind?”

“No, please, get some rest” he reassured me.

I hurried to turn the lights on as soon as we got in, revealing a luxurious room with black and white furniture and a huge window that looked over the Hudson River. There was a huge TV, and a couple of warm blue blankets over one of the couches, and a bar table with whiskey and champagne on it. A giant sliding door lead to a private rooftop, with chairs to take the sun.

“Harry…Could you stay with me? I don’t wanna be alone.”

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry #harry writing #harry smut #hs #harry styles one shot #writing #fake dating

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gyeommark · 5 years

Text

vagary . ii

Chanyeol x Reader Genre: Angst. Fluff. Smut in future parts. Words: 5.5k Warnings: Strong language, mentions of alcohol use. A/N: Now, I’m deeply sorry for the delay, as some might know, I was having some issues but part two is finally here. Didn’t proof read but hope you enjoy (or not hate it, at least)! A/N2: Since tumblr is a b*tch with the links, you can find Vagary’s mini masterlist on my blog along with links to my other works .x

The heaviness in your chest when you woke up threw you off onto an uncertain abyss. A feeling you hadn’t had in a long time. A fluttering nothingness.

You cursed to yourself, knowing very well that you had found yourself at the start of yet another rocky, dark, tormenting path and the welcoming sign had his name and face and, above all else, his endearing smile, all over it.

You judged yourself, trying to comprehend how it was humanly possible to dream of someone you had met only a limited amount of times through out the last month and yet he still haunted every nook and crevice of your mind.

“You’re doing it again…” Baekhyun huffed as he made you trip with his own foot as you two walked down the street after your lessons had ended, later than usual as the starry night looked out over you. You were thankful the day after was your day off.

“I’m doing what again?” You asked, clearly annoyed as you regained your balance and shot him the death glare.

“That thing you do when you’re daydreaming about something. I think they call it ‘smiling stupidly like a puppy begging for treats’… Just that puppies aren’t stupid but you, on the other hand…” Baekhyun laughed at his own joke as he tried to avoid the pinches and jabs you were throwing his way.

“I swear on everything that’s holy that I have no idea what you’re talking about right now”. You tried to shrug it off, sighing. Yes, you knew what he meant but did that mean you were going to admit you were thinking of a man continuously because it made you feel happy; or at least, less miserable, and that said man happened to be that friend of his he had been teasing you with continuously since you met him?

Hell, no. If needed be, you were willing to hold that secret close to your heart until the day you died, take it to your grave and up to heaven or down to hell, whichever way you would go after your passing, that didn’t really matter.

“Mhm… My dashing eyes may be on the smaller side but I’m not blind”. You laughed at Baekhyun’s comment. His confidence and self-esteem was something you strived to and one of the main reasons he was your best friend.

“Maybe not blind, just delusional”. You cackled as you struggled to open the door to your small apartment, hissing curse words under your breath. You made a mental note to call the locksmith to take a look at your front door.

“Hey!” He half yelled, half groaned as he smashed his hand onto the doorframe, blocking your way as he looked intently at you with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Is it too much to ask to not have you insult me at any chance you get? I was just making an observation”.

As much as you wanted to maintain your offended expression, it was nearly impossible to do so with Baekhyun sporting his guilt-inducing pout. Not that it worked when it came to make you felt guilty, really, but the image of a grown man pouting was ridiculous so, to you, it was kind of funny.

“Well, I mean, delusional is not an insult but rather an adjective as I see it…” You tried to hold back your laugh as you pushed his extended arm out of your way.

“Oh, smarty-pants, I hope you drop your attitude before my showcase or I might as well take you off of my guest list and deprive you of a night filled with free drinks”. He threatened you with a finger pointing at you, dangerously close to your eyes.

“How could I survive?” You cackled as you replied sarcastically at him. “If only I worked as a bartender… Oh, wait”.

Baekhyun’s pout kept getting bigger, the more you talked back at him.

“Continue doing that. You wont get to see your precious Chanyeol boy until god-knows when”.

You wished, at that time, you had more self-control. You wished you could think before feeling and therefore before reacting. But you were either too dumb or too sentimental and, to your dismay, Baekhyun was too perceptive when he put his mind to it.

Maybe he had x-ray vision and he could see your stomach dropping to the ground at the mention of him; maybe he could see the hoards of whatever insect that were flying around your thorax, throwing themselves on to your ribcage, trying to escape. Maybe he could see you biting on the inside of your cheek and, maybe, he could see your heart beating with a fickle pace.

Maybe you were just too blunt. You probably had to work on that.

“Shut up. As far as I’m concerned, he’s your friend, not mine”. You shook your head before turning away from him and threw your bag someone behind your couch, trying to calm yourself down as you felt your hands start to tickle at the mere mention of a man you barely knew.

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you have far more interest in him than me but whatever…” Baekhyun scoffed and shrugged and you could still feel his eyes glued to your back; somehow, you knew he was smirking but you couldn’t brace yourself to turn around and smack him because you were far too focused on calming yourself down.

“Anyhow… I’ll let you to deal your mushy feelings by yourself”. As soon as you heard the door click closed, you groaned and threw yourself onto your sofa.

You had no idea how much time it had passed, since the lack of light indicated nothing whatsoever. It could either be 10 p.m. or two in the morning. Your sleep scheduled was already messed up so who gave a fuck?

Footsteps from around the corner startled you, yet not enough as to make you stand up.

“What the hell are you still doing here? I heard you come in like three hours ago”. You looked at your roommate, from the corner of your eye as you huffed.

“Too tired to move, Deb”. Besides Baekhyun, your roommate was probably the one who knew you the best, it was a shame they didn’t really get along… Or maybe it was for the best, if they united forces it would be the end for you and, honestly speaking, you weren’t really ready to deal with that.

“Tired from what?” She groaned as she poured herself a glass of water from the sink. “Arguing with your annoying friend over what’s-his-face?”

At her words, you immediately sat up straight, with a deep frown that was almost hurting your face muscles. Once she came back into your field of vision she swallowed her water and looked at you with a confused expression mixed with her remaining sleepiness.

Opposite from you, she had quite the organized life. Going to sleep early, taking morning classes and working part time on the afternoon, five days a week. You somewhat envied her determination and that, somehow, complimented your mess of a life, driven by pure dreams and desires.

“Did you hear that?” You questioned her, almost choking on your own saliva as you wiped your sweaty hands on your jean-covered legs.

“Well, I mean, your friend yells instead of talking, how did you expect me not to hear that?” You huffed, praying that she wouldn’t question you on Chanyeol. “And did you also expect me not to notice how out of it you’ve been? More than usual, I mean. I know its kind of like an artist’s trait but you suddenly started listening to corny songs while taking a shower? It’s kind of annoying but I mean, it’s none of my business”.

You pursed your lips into a hopeless smile, her words a confirmation that you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were and a strong motive for you to stay as far away from Chanyeol as possible.

It shouldn’t be that hard, you thought, he was just a fairly good-looking, charming acquaintance, that was it.

Park Chanyeol might as well become yet another meaningless crush. Like the ones you get when you’re riding the bus or the subway, or when you’re in line to check-out at the grocery store. He might as well be forgotten after a couple days, then again, why was he so rooted into your head after almost a month?

“Are you nervous?” You chuckled as you watched Baekhyun pace around the small excuse of a waiting room that the fancy bar had provided for him. You sipped on a beer, crossing your legs as you followed his restless figure as it moved from one end of the room to the other.

“Me? Nervous? Please, I was born for this” Baekhyun scoffed as he stole a daring glance from you. Where was Mr. Confidence when needed? You laughed at your own thought.

A knock on the door finally made Baekhyun stop on his tracks, you looked at the clock hanging on the wall, wondering if it was one of the staffs coming to tell him that it was his time to go onto the small, questionably stable stage.

You stood up, ready to leave when you saw a head peek from behind the door and immediately, your heart skipped a beat, quickly followed by a self scolding.

“Hey” Chanyeol smiled, messy hair almost covering his eyes, making you tingle all over. You hated the feeling, yet it felt nice at the same time. Bittersweet. “I just wanted to say hi before you went up and tell you to break a leg”. He smiled as he entered the room completely and your heart continued to not listen to your orders.

Baekhyun smiled brightly at him before stealing a glance in your direction.

“Remember my friend?” Baekhyun said, basically pulling you towards Chanyeol, you pursed your lips. “You could keep her company tonight, she’s bitter and doesn’t really talk to a lot of people unless forced to”.

Chanyeol chuckled and you wanted to look away from the dimple on his cheek but it was almost hypnotizing, drawing you in, making you angry at yourself for falling down that spiraling tunnel.

“How could I forget?” Chanyeol looked at you with his warm eyes and you had to remember how to smile but not too much at the same time. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe”. Chanyeol chuckled as he extended an arm in your direction and grabbed you by your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

You wanted to sneak a peek but then again, that might make you stare. It was dangerous to do anything when it was around him. You were starting to think that even the most mundane of things, like opening your mouth would end up on you doing something idiotic, like forgetting how to close your jack back up and then finding yourself with a damp spot on your shirt.

Yes, it was stupid but you couldn’t deny the possibility of it happening, unfortunately.

Breathing was, also, something so foreign to you at that moment; it was ridiculous that some man could have that effect on you.

Baekhyun’s eyes flickered between you and his giant friend and you could see that glint of mischievousness on his eyes, knowing that he’d tease you even more after tonight yet, Chanyeol’s gentle touch on your shoulder made you push that annoyance to the back of your head, getting lost in the tingling sensation that started at the pit of your stomach and threatened to invade the rest of your body in slow, torturously bubbly tides.

They started joking carelessly after that, as if nothing happened, as if you weren’t basically running out of oxygen and turning blue, as if Chanyeol’s hand wasn’t still lying on your shoulder carelessly.

A man’s voice called Baekhyun out a few minutes after and you three walked out the room and you managed to shrug off Chanyeol’s hand, not because you wanted to loose contact but because you didn’t want to die, not yet, at least.

Two months. Almost two months was all it took for you to realize you were fucked. Close to sixty days was all you needed to develop some sort of ‘feeling’ towards Chanyeol. You didn’t know if it was just the excitement of having someone new in your life, someone who shared some of your ideas, some of your points of view; someone whose presence felt like a cozy blanket around you and a cup of warm chocolate between your hands.

Chanyeol felt comfortable and a simple graze of his hand on your shoulder was all it took for you to realize that your mind couldn’t escape Park Chanyeol.

You sat opposite from him on the small table, trying to keep as much distance from him as possible. A part of you wanted to be close to him though, brush your knee against his accidentally and just live off of that because that was probably as much as you could get and you would be fine with that, but you also didn’t want to seem desperate.

You picket at the skin around your nails, trying to ignore the silence that fell upon you in, even in the moderately loud ambience, trying to ignore his eyes practically burning a hole on your cheek as you scanned the stage, waiting for Baekhyun to appear.

Another bottle of beer suddenly appearing before your eyes surprised you, you looked at the waiter with confusion painted over your face yet you still mouthed a polite thank you before looking at Chanyeol, questioning him silently.

“Wouldn’t want to mix alcohols tonight, would we?” Chanyeol chuckled, half yelling at you. Such a simple action, him noticing how you were drinking beer at the waiting room was all it took for your heart to fly away to another dimension. You cursed under your breath, and even then, you couldn’t suppress the smile on your lips.

“Thank you”. You yelled back, struggling to catch your breath. Chanyeol smiled back and you wanted to tell him to not do that, that it was hard enough for you to just have him there but, of course, that wouldn’t be appropriate of you.

“You and Baekhyun seem quite close”. Chanyeol said after a couple minutes, leaning over the table. Your legs trembled seeing how his body got closer to you.

“He’s like an annoying brother, you could say” You laughed, looking at the stage once more, forcing your eyes away from Chanyeol’s face, flawlessly illuminated by the blue and pink lights, making him look even more endearing.

“He’s always had a pretty good taste when it comes to his friends, if I do say so myself”. Chanyeol chuckled and raised his eyebrows at you as he saw you gulping down on your beer, little did he know you were just doing that to avoid yourself from giggling like a dumbass, in reality, the alcohol consumption would only make things worse, but it was the only solution you could come up with at the moment.

“We’ll see… I’m still unsure about that”. That was what riled you up about yourself, how sometimes you couldn’t just stay quiet and couldn’t filter your thoughts. You weren’t sure if you said that to appear cold hearted or if you were saying it to sound flirty but Chanyeol’s eyebrows shooting upwards for a millisecond and him smirking as he leaned in even closer to you made you think it probably sounded like the latter.

“Oh, a doubtful one”. He chuckled, sipping on his beer before smiling widely at you. “I see how it is, then”. By that moment, you had already grown accustomed to the non-stop pounding coming from inside your chest, making your ribcage tremble with anticipation.

“You see, I barely know you, so…” You squinted your eyes at him before shrugging and mirrored his position as you leaned your elbows on the table, reducing the distance between you. A dangerous decision, indeed.

“Maybe you should get to know me better, then, and I will gladly prove you wrong”. Speechless due to his smooth answer, you refrained yourself and just smiled.

The lights dimmed right in that moment, something you didn’t know if you were grateful for or angry at, but then you saw Baekhyun taking his place in the middle of the small stage and you clapped and yelled loudly, remembering that the reason you were here was because of your friend and not because of Chanyeol, although your mind and heart still had a bit of trouble figuring that out.

“To Baekhyun”. Chanyeol said as he scooted his stool closer to you and tipped his beer bottle in your direction. You smiled, clinking your bottle to his before taking a sip and even then, the corners of your mouth were never able to return to their normal position.

Baekhyun’s voice took over the atmosphere at the crowded bar, it even muffled the murmur of people talking over the sound of the loud music, his voice was the type that was strong yet sweet at the same time, and you smiled even wider than you were doing before.

In the sense that you were happy and proud of him, not that it was that important, because who were you to have an important opinion anyways? But you still felt happy and proud of your friend’s accomplishments, and most of all, his happiness was contagious so, if Baekhyun was happy, so were you and if he was not… Well, if that was the case, he only turned into an annoying human being, period.

“He’s killing it”. You mumbled, realizing a little too late that you were thinking out loud and that there was still a certain presence next to you. Your eyes widened for a split second before giggling nervously as you drank yet another sip of your beer as you stole some looks form the corner of your eye.

Chanyeol laughed silently, as his shoulders moved up and down a little bit, just accentuating the fact that he, apparently, had a thing for working out and wearing tight black shirts.

“You have a nice smile”. You almost choked, putting down the bottle and looking at him with squinted eyes.

“And you have a loose mouth”. You scoffed, standing up and patting his shoulder unceremoniously. “I will need more alcohol for this”. You blurted out as you stepped away and practically rushed to the busy bar, too nervous to wait for a waiter to come around and take your order.

It was like having your body, mind and heart divided into two in the most obvious annoying manner. Chanyeol wasn’t making things easier on you, if anything, every single one of your inner issues had been enhanced ever since you realized you might have developed some sort of chemical reaction called ‘attraction’ towards him.

One half of your whole being was set on acting cold and quick-witted towards him, maybe that way he’d step away before it got too much to handle, yet the other part was almost falling apart at the mere thought of being close to him, seeing him smile or laugh at whatever you said, telling you sweet nothings that most likely meant nothing.

So, your response, -or getaway if you may- to all this was that of every responsible adult out there: alcohol. Curse your sarcastic, yet overly attached nature.

Well into Baekhyun’s second song, you were still standing at the bar waiting for your next round of beer. You locked eyes with your friend as he smiled widely while singing, earning an exaggerated thumbs up from your part. It was okay, it felt nice to forget the frenzy of his presence even if it was for just a couple minutes.

You turned around when you heard the mature looking bartender call you to hand you your two bottles of beer but then, when you turned around again, ready to head back to your torture spot, you felt something falling with a thud inside of your chest; nothing hurt, not really, there was just a hint of heaviness inside of you when you saw a new person sitting on the chair that used to be yours until just a few minutes ago.

But what enhanced the feeling wasn’t the new companionship but the fact that he seemed to be acting exactly the same towards her than he was doing with you before. Then again, who were you to feel special?

That’s when everything started to go downhill, more so than before. That’s when you realized you heart was starting to feel something towards someone you barely knew. That’s when you realized you were fucked up. If Chanyeol was truly insignificant for you, you wouldn’t have felt the thud when you saw him smiling and laughing with his glistening, round, puppy eyes and prominent dimple over something another woman was saying.

If Chanyeol was truly no one, you wouldn’t have cared, you would’ve just walked back to him and greeted the new acquaintance with a smile. But that wasn’t the case, your whole weight fell to your ankles and you hesitated on your spot.

Would you put yourself out there to potentially get your little, naïve heart broken or just leave and pretend nothing happened? Would you leave Baekhyun alone when he counted on you just because things didn’t turn out the way you were expecting with a man you could only, foolishly, crush on?

Hell no, but were you about to endure all that with a sober body? Again, hell no.

“You know what, give me a shot”. You said as you waved to the bartender, who only laughed a little before pouring you your clear looking and who stared at you with pursed lips as you downed it in one go, without a single flinch.

You took a deep breath, holding a bottle in each hand as you walked back to the table, trying your very best to maintain a poker face as got nearer and nearer to the pair who had made you take a stupid tequila shot.

Whether you liked to admit it or not, whoever the female was, she was good looking yet too petite for your taste, specially sitting next to Chanyeol. She raised her eyebrows at you, probably wondering who you were and what the hell you were doing there, interrupting their deep conversation. Hence the sarcasm, you were feeling bitter, so much it even translated onto your thoughts and probably your uncontrollable facial expressions, as well.

Chanyeol followed his friend’s stare until his eyes fell upon you again, maybe he had forgotten you were there and you wouldn’t be surprised, if you were being honest.

“Ah…”. He stuttered as he stood up, almost jumping and knocking down his stool in the process. His eyes frantically traveling from you to the other female. You tried to put the best, fakest smile you could. Not that you cared anymore, but you had to be polite, for Baekhyun’s sake. “Jiae, this is Baekhyun’s friend I was telling you about”. Chanyeol said with a smile as he introduced you two.

Maybe it was what the call the female sixth sense, or maybe you were too sensitive, or maybe it was that shot already having its scary effect on you, but you were convinced she already hated you.

Was that a reflection of what you were feeling, though? No, of course, you had barely met her, hate was a strong word. Dislike, on the other hand…

“Nice to meet you”. You pursed your lips onto a smile as you sat at the other side of the table, facing her as you pushed one of your beer bottles towards her. “Here, you can have it”. She gave you a small smile as she took the bottle in her hand.

Could that have been considered hypocrisy? You weren’t sure. You just didn’t want to make it obvious that you weren’t comfortable anymore, maybe your actions would backfire, then again, you didn’t give a single shit anymore.

After another ten minutes or so, as Baekhyun was taking a break somewhere backstage and you were almost finished with your second beer, you felt her eyes on you. You turned to see her with your eyebrows raised, trying your best not to appear arrogant.

“How long have you known Baekhyun?” She asked, smile not quite reaching her eyes. You cleared your throat as you leaned back. Her presence repelled you, exactly the opposite of how you felt when it was only Chanyeol and you alone. Chanyeol who had been far too quiet since you came back to the table.

“Couple years or so, I’m not sure”. You mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t hear you and she’d just let the forced conversation die without much effort.

“Funny, I haven’t met you before”. You had to take a deep, discrete, breath in order to maintain the rest of your questionably sober sanity in place and not let it disappear in resentment’s hands.

“Baekhyun doesn’t really introduces me to his friends, he fears they might like me better”. You said, almost chuckling when you heard the distant sound of Chanyeol’s stifling a laugh. Whether that was a good or a bad sign, you weren’t sure.

Once Baekhyun’s presentation was done and the loudness of the bar hit your ears at full volume once again, you felt like it was too much to handle so when you caught your friend walking over in your direction, you stood up once again, with the excuse of getting more drinks.

Chanyeol looked at you with wide eyes, mirroring your actions.

“Please, let me, you should keep her company”. You smiled, probably pouring too much bile on to your words, probably not. However he might interpret them was clearly not up to you anymore.

Baekhyun stopped on his tracks as he was just a less than a meter away from you and followed you suit once you were halfway to the counter, yet again.

“I see you’ve met Jiae”. Baekhyun chuckled, leaning his elbows on the slightly wet surface as you silently asked for another round of beers to the bartender, putting up four fingers in the process. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“If this is you trying to be funny, I’m sorry to disappoint but I’m not picking up on your humor right now”. You scoffed, trying to avoid eye contact as you also tried to avoid the painful rumbling in your chest.

Jealousy was a scary, funny thing, especially when you were too stubborn to acknowledge it in the first place.

“Okay, so the bitter evil twin is out to play now, I get it”. Baekhyun chuckled, emotionlessly as he copied your stance. “Should I have mentioned her existence before to spare me the burning and scarring your words are causing on my skin and soul?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows as he took a hand to his chest, mocking an inexistent pain.

“Why would you? It’s not like I should be interested on your friend’s life, anyways”. You mumbled, and even with the loud music and ambiance, Baekhyun was able to hear you perfectly fine, to your disgrace.

“Listen, you can pretend all you want with everyone else, act like the Ice Queen or whatever, but you’re never going to fool me. So what’s the deal if you admit you like someone? It’s not like the world’s going to end because of that, it’s a human thing… You meet someone, you like someone, maybe you date, maybe you don’t; maybe you just become fuck buddies, what’s the big deal”.

Baekhyun shrugged, stealing a glance from you, probably scared you would jump on his throat due to his accusing comments.

“The human reasonable thing to do here would be stepping away when someone you like, likes someone else, and actually has someone else. Chanyeol is a platonic crush and I won’t interfere with whatever he has going on with that Jiae girl; I don’t have the time nor the patience for that kind of drama”.

It was Baekhyun’s turn to scoff as he shook his head in either annoyance or disbelief.

“Here’s a friendly comment from your most professional, caring advisor. Chanyeol is a peculiar man with peculiar taste, a peculiar man who rarely opens up with anyone. If he, for whatever reason, chooses to talk to someone and get to know them is because that someone has sparked something in him… Then again, the relationship between him and Jiae is still a mystery to everyone because, like I said, he has like a phobia to opening up… Take that as you wish, it was just a comment”.

You looked at him with a slight frown and pursed lips as your beers appeared before you along with another shot, a glass you didn’t ask for but apparently there was an unspoken of, bartender psychic ability to spot an annoyed person.

“Please keep your friendly comments at bay when you know they won’t help and will just make things worse”. You huffed, turning around with Baekhyun trailing close behind you.

“So… Does that mean you like like Chanyeol?” You groaned, downing the shot and leaving the empty glass on an empty table that came across your way.

“Let’s act like I don’t, for everyone’s sake”. You shook your head as you looked down at your feet, trying not to trip over someone else’s feet, or your own, for that matter. The mixing of beer and tequila was something you weren’t approving of, then again, it was the best to drown your sorrows on. Unless they were too unbearable and then you had to add vodka to the mix.

Thankfully you weren’t there yet.

Yet.

You were a martyr but not a drunken one, thankfully. Or maybe you just loved to play the victim role.

You saw Chanyeol looking over his shoulder, he seemed quieter than before. Jiae had her arms crossed over her chest as she analyzed the now empty stage. Maybe she should’ve done that when Baekhyun was on, instead of having her eyes fixed on you, trying to burn a hole through your throat.

Meeting eyes with someone was a dangerous thing, regardless of the situation. Words were less than needed when two pairs of eyes met and, in this case, you wished you could’ve avoided Chanyeol’s gaze because it only made your chest feel heavier than it already was and it made your legs tremble more than they were already doing; no amount of alcohol could even come close to the effect Chanyeol’s dark eyes had on you and you wanted to reboot yourself, put a chip in your system that would prevent you from liking a man you’ve met less than five times before.

Chanyeol pursed his lips onto a thin, undecipherable smile as he stepped aside from his chair, extending an arm on the inanimate object’s direction.

“Take a seat, we’re short on seats”. His voice was low, raspier than usual. You cleared your throat before shaking your head a couple times and placing the two bottles you were holding on the table, a bit too strongly than necessary.

“I will share with Baekhyun”. You said back, an emotionless façade taking over your expressions.

It was easier keeping your distance than dealing with the overflowing, confusing emotions.

Once Baekhyun caught up to your comment, he nodded quickly, awkwardly sitting on one half of the stool as you took your place next to him.

Chanyeol was a tornado, your heart and mind were a house with a weak foundation and a lack of insurance. He had swap you off your feet only to drag you back down a bit too harshly to your liking, then again, there was nothing that needed to be said when you knew you had been the one to make a mistake.

The mistake of idealizing someone you only knew the name of but you couldn’t help the gravitational pull he seemed to have on you.

It would’ve been easier if you had never met his eyes. It would have been easier if you wouldn’t have gotten lost on his charming smile and sweet, smart speech.

It would’ve been easier if there was no Jiae but you knew there was a code. Whatever relationship they had, it was none of your business and you knew you shouldn’t interfere so you just smiled, a forced, surrendered smile.

You didn’t expect Chanyeol to notice, at that point you had forced yourself to admit that he would be the epitome of platonic in your life and that you had to be okay with it. You didn’t expect him to smile back at you with the same smile, he looked defeated and apologetic but you forced yourself to disregard him.

It was the logical, reasonable thing to do but Chanyeol’s mere presence made you question every decision and thought that ever crossed your mind and apparently, everyone in that table noticed it as well.

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