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seospicybin · 26 days

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TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE.

ROUND 2

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Related chapters: Round 1

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about Minho: He is good in the kitchen. (10,3k words)

Author's note: I just thought that we need to play another round. Hope you had fun reading this x

Content warning: Infidelity.

Let's play another round of two truths and a lie where Minho shares three things about him and you have to guess which one is the lie.

Here goes the first thing about Minho: He is good in the kitchen.

That's the first thing Kim told you about Minho, he is good in the kitchen and that explains why you often find him in there, cooking meals or something his girlfriend, Kim, asked him to make, sometimes it's something as simple as fried rice to something as complex as beef wellington, he can do it all. In conclusion, his cooking skill is unquestionable.

Just like this morning, the first thing you see as you come out of your bedroom is Minho making something in the kitchen. Before he notices, you slowly tiptoe your way back to your bedroom and reach for the doorknob to—

"Morning!" Kim cheerily says as she comes out of her bedroom.

You instantly turn around on your feet and pretend that you've just come out of your bedroom. From her attire, you can tell that she's going for her morning run.

"Morning, Kim!" You say back with a smile, "Going for a run?"

"Yep. Minho is making pancakes," she answers as she ties her hair into a ponytail, "Have to burn some calories so I can eat more calories."

As a dancer, Kim diligently watches her weight but instead of getting on a rigorous diet, she prefers working out even though her job, dancing, is also working out, and she only spoils herself with a sweet treat on the weekend. She's heading to the kitchen to give Minho a quick peck on the lips and then puts her headphones on.

"I'll see you guys in a bit," she says before walking out the door.

Leaving you and Minho alone in the apartment is not a good idea but how can she know when you've been doing things behind her back?

Since he's already seen you, you may as well start your day, by going to the kitchen and getting yourself a cup of coffee, you just need to get the milk from the fridge, then you'll be out of Minho's way.

As you keep the fridge door open to put the milk back inside, Minho appears behind you and reaches for a carton of eggs from the fridge, his forearm brushes your waist as he retracts his hand.

You quickly step away and take the other end of the kitchen counter, stirring your coffee with a spoon while looking at the weather outside, at the sunlit clouds drifting across a clear blue sky.

"Can you hand me the sugar?" Minho points at the bowl of sugar in your reach.

"Sure," you say, picking it up and placing it on the kitchen counter next to him.

You're going to the other side of the kitchen counter and take a small sip of your coffee, you can sense the caffeine works to bring your brain to function. At the same time, your sense heightens that you know Minho is coming behind you to put the jar of sugar back into its place.

However, when he retracts his arm, his hand stays on your waist and it stays there, making you wonder what he's trying to do next so you turn your head to the side.

In the blink of an eye, Minho quickly captures your lips in a kiss and wraps his arms tightly around you. Your body is quick to respond to it but your brain is working at a sluggish pace.

By the time your brain catches up to it and tells you to stop, Minho already has his hand under your camisole and fondles at your breast.

"Minho..." you whine against his lips.

He breaks the kiss and stares into your eyes, "What?"

It's at the tip of your tongue and your mouth is open but no words coming out of it. Deep down, you know you want it and you don't want it to stop.

Instead of saying what you want out loud, you curve your arm around his neck and pull his head close for a kiss, picking it up and taking it up a notch.

With his free hand, Minho pushes your camisole upward, sending it hunched around your chest and exposing your breasts to the cool morning air.

He wastes no time to freely cup your breast in his hand and he likes how it fits him right, making him think that they were made just for him.

There's not much room for you to move with his arms firmly wrapped around you but when his hand glides down to cup your clothed sex, you start to push back against him and feel his bulge growing behind you.

Your common sense comes in ebbs and flows, and when it finally hits you, you suddenly pull his hand out of your shorts and break away from his hold.

"Kim will be back soon," you remind him with your voice tinted with concern.

Minho puts his hands on each side of your waist and makes you lean against the kitchen counter, "She won't be back for a while," he calmly says.

He then buries his mouth in the crook of your neck, peeling back the layers of worry off of you with every kiss he planted there.

All of a sudden, you find the guts to put your hands on his chest and push him a little too hard it sends him staggering a couple of steps to the back.

No matter how far you push him away, your body wants to be as close as possible to him. You find yourself walking back to him and taking your turn to corner him against the kitchen counter.

He's wearing this plain white t-shirt but gosh, it looks good on him and you like it even more when you can trace the muscles on his body through the fabric.

"But we don't know for sure," you say, leaning in for a kiss which he eagerly returns and makes him ask for more.

However, it's the grey sweatpants he's wearing that make you lose your mind a little. It's unclear whether it's the fabric or the color or the style of the pants that somehow accentuate the shape of his cock, or the way he walks around in the apartment in it and unaware of what it does to you.

You quietly pull his sweatpants low enough to let his member free out of its confine and without looking, your hand knows what it's looking for and immediately wrap your hand around it, slowly stroking it.

"For all we know, she may be back in a few minutes," you say against his lips.

Minho is engrossed in how you're slowly stroking his cock as you speak, it takes him a while to respond to your question.

"She won't," he assures you, pulling you close by the waist and putting his hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through your shorts.

"She's been gone for fifteen minutes now," you say before he has your lips locked with his again.

"Then we just have to make it quick," he simply resolves, lifting you by the waist, and swiftly, he turns around on his feet to sit you on the counter.

As a dancer, he is trained to lift his partner and he does it seamlessly as if he's lifting a piece of paper. Well, he has the muscles to prove his years-long dance training.

"Minho, we can't," you say as he leans in to kiss your neck.

Instead of stopping him from coming at your breasts, you hold them up for him so he can take them into his mouth.

He sucks on the flesh hard that you wince in pain and he lets go with a satisfied grin, "we definitely can," he coyly disagrees.

"What I'm saying is—" you pause as he parts your legs open, sending you leaning to the back and you quickly prop a hand to support you.

Minho tugs his hands at the elastic band of your pajama shorts and thinking of taking it off of you, you scramble to stop him.

"Just put it to the side," you tell him.

He obeys your words, putting the shorts along with your underwear to the side. He delightfully sighs at the sight of your heating core and he uses his fingers to feel how wet you are for him.

"I can't stop when you're this wet for me," he mutters as he swipes your lips with his fingers coated with your essence, then shoves it into his mouth next.

Feeling challenged to do the same, you lick your lips and get a taste of you on your tongue, you taste so sinfully sweet as the kiss he's about to plant on you.

While his lips keep you busy with kisses, Minho aligns his cock with your entrance, he rubs his tip between your folds then with a slow push, he starts to enter you.

The kiss breaks as the two of you shift your focus on how his cock pushing its way inside you. You spread your legs as wide as possible and watch as his cock is slowly disappearing into you.

Minho curves his hands around you and then glides them down until his hands meet the curve of your ass, he pulls you close, seeking closeness as he's about to fully bottomed out inside you.

"And I can't stop when you feel this good," he says as he crashes his lips against yours again.

The room soon filled with your low moans combined with the sounds of his hips against the back of your thighs. His nails dig into the flesh as he steadily keeps your legs open for him.

Even with your brain clouded with pleasure, a slight of fear comes creeping up in you and makes you keep looking to the side, in the direction of the foyer, and the fact that Kim can come in any minute now.

"Minho," you breathlessly call in between your moans.

You continue talking when you have his attention by putting your hand on his neck, "We can't keep doing this to Kim."

"I know," he says with a small nod, "it's unfair to her."

And it's unfair how he tries to take your mind away from things by suddenly adding intensity to his thrusts and going as shallow as possible inside you.

"Uh-huh, it's unfair," you repeat your words, suddenly losing all the words in your head.

Minho pulls you even closer until you're sitting on the edge of the counter while keeping the pace steady, he lets go of your legs and wraps his arms around you instead. He looks down at his cock slipping in and out of you then when his eyes find you, he intensely stares into your eyes as if he dares you to try to stop him again.

The truth is you're just a human who tends to make the same mistakes and above all that, you're just a girl who wants what she wants and in this moment, you want nothing else but him.

The grip on his shoulder tightens as you come to your climax, your moans turn into breathless whines and you bury your head in his neck.

Yet Minho keeps going and chasing for his high as your walls pulsate and flutter around him, all of those stimulations combined with the fear that Kim may walk in on you and him doing it in the kitchen only arouses him more.

"Don't cum inside," you whisper into his ear.

Now that you said it, it only makes him want to do it and he plans on ignoring those words.

You crumple the front of his t-shirt in your hand and force him to look you in the eyes, "Minho, you can't cum inside," you warn again.

Hearing the urgency in your voice, Minho refrains from doing it and wisely follows your words.

"Where do you want it then?" He asks, suddenly getting curious about your answer.

"My mouth," you shortly answer because it's the only way to make sure to leave no trace of this abomination. No trace means you can pretend that this never happened.

Minho stops moving for a second, unsure if he heard you right. You put your hand on his neck and say again, "You can cum in my mouth."

What you said seems to trigger something inside of him that he continues thrusting into you harder and faster, not caring that you've just cum around him a while ago which only make you even more sensitive than before.

You let him have it because this is the only way you know that'll bring him closer to his release. Also, you don't know how long this has been going on but you know that you don't have much left before Kim comes back.

All of a sudden, Minho puts his arms around your waist and steadily hoists you against him. You immediately wrap your legs around him and your arms around his shoulders.

"Oh..." a raw groan escapes his mouth as he lets go just a little and feels his cock deepens inside you as you cling to him.

The two of you stay still like that for a moment, encased in endless pleasure and palpable desire for each other that it feels like the slightest movement would break the spell.

Sadly, time isn't on your side.

You slowly let go of your hold around him, forcing Minho to put you down gently until your feet touch the floor and eventually, he has to pull out of you, making you feel the sudden emptiness.

You kneel on the floor as he incessantly pumps his cock to keep the stimulation going. You can see his cock, all red and veiny inches away from your eyes as you offer your mouth for him to dump his load.

Seeing him from this point of view surely feels new to you but not less arousing, you can see his forehead wrinkled with how much he focuses on chasing his release.

The most arousing part is the way he's looking down on you, seeing how much you want his cum in your mouth and he's the only one who can give it to you.

"Wider," he murmurs through his gritted teeth.

Also added is the fact that he is someone's boyfriend, oh, everything about it is arousing you so much that your hand flies to your cunt, touching yourself as you obey his word. While maintaining eye contact with him, you open your mouth wider and stick your tongue out a little, waiting for him to shoot his load on you like a bitch in heat.

The second his cum spurts out of his tip and lands on you, you gasp at how hot it feels on your skin. You close your eyes and keep your mouth open as more of his cum gets on your tongue, your lips, and all over your mouth.

Using the tip of his sock, Minho smears his pearly white cum all over your lips, tempting you to put it into your mouth and of course, you cave into the temptation. You give his tip a few kitten licks before taking his length little by little, you compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand.

"Oh..." he delightfully sighs with his head thrown back.

To see him fully indulging in it and hearing him moaning on pleasure encourages you to keep going, sucking him hard and syncing it with the pumping of your hand around the base of his cock.

"Oh, yes, keep going," he mutters to you with his voice soft and sultry.

He puts his hand in your hair and tugs at it, using it to angle your head slightly to the back to provide him more depth as he gently pushes a little more of his cock into your mouth.

"Fu..." his profanity trails off and turns into a breathless moan as he slowly begins thrusting his cock in and out of you.

You're aware that he's using your mouth for his pleasure and you don't mind any of it, if anything, it makes you want to touch yourself more. You allow yourself to do just that, rubbing on your clothed clit as Minho is fucking your mouth.

"Mmh..." you moan with your mouth full of his hot, swollen flesh.

"Oh, you and your fucking mouth," he mutters with a low breath, his eyes intently watching how you're taking every thrust of his cock into your mouth.

For a split second, you forget about Kim until you hear the sound of the front door opening and then closing. You're about to pull out but Minho's grip on the back of your head forces you to remain still.

Your heart starts pounding inside your chest as you hear her footsteps coming closer and she stops just on the other side of the counter where you remain hidden on this side with her boyfriend's cock deep in your throat.

"Oh, it's so hot today," Kim says, still panting from running. You hear her pouring water into a glass and then the sounds of her heartily gulping it.

Minho remains calm and puts his free hand on the counter, "Yeah, you sweat a lot, honey," he says.

There's a low thud of what you assume coming from Kim putting her glass down, "And where are my pancakes?"

"I want it to be hot when you're having it," he simply answers.

"Well then, I'm going to wash my face, and my hands and I'll be ready for pancakes," Kim says.

You can only imagine how she smiles brightly at him when she said it, oblivious to the fact that her roommate is sucking her boyfriend's cock as she speaks.

"They better be good," she adds as she walks away.

You start to relax when you hear her footsteps receding, then you hear the sound of the door being opened and then closed after.

Minho finally lets go of his dead grip on the back of your head and you immediately pull out, a little too fast that you choke on your saliva, sending you into a coughing fit.

You rise from the floor, fixing your clothes as you head to the sink to wipe the mess on your mouth with the running water.

It has just sunken into you of what you did with Minho, the guilt hits you like a ton of brick and it tastes bitter on your tongue no matter how much you rinse it with water.

"Are you okay, babe?" Kim asks you as she comes into the kitchen.

Her presence makes you choke on water this time, you grab a bunch of tissues from the box and wipe your mouth with it.

"I'm okay," you answer, "I'm just choked on something."

Without looking, you can feel Minho's sly smirk from across the kitchen counter. It's best if you exclude yourself from this to avoid any slips out.

"Where are you going?" Kim asks you, she drags a stool and pats it, "Come sit and eat pancakes with me!"

"No, I have something—"

"What do you possibly need to do on a Sunday morning?" She asks with a pout.

"Come on, take a seat!" She says, excitedly patting the seat and inviting you to sit next to her.

If you persist on leaving, she'll only get suspicious of you so you relent, sitting on the stool next to her while holding your cup of coffee.

On the other hand, Minho did his part too well. He acts like nothing happened and successfully makes pancakes for both you and Kim.

"You want cream with that, honey?" He asks Kim but his eyes wander your way for a second.

"No, thank you," Kim politely refuses, "but I'll have the syrups."

Minho wastes no time to get it for her from the kitchen cabinet and gives it to her. He then takes a tube of whipped cream and gives it a shake.

"Extra cream for you then," he says to you as he places creams on top of your pancakes and flashes you a faint smirk that only you can see.

Unable to respond to it with words, you stab the pancakes with your fork and have a bite at it, hate to admit it but it tastes good.

Well then this makes the first statement a truth: Minho is indeed good in the kitchen.

This is it, you say in your head as the bell in your head goes ding!

The apartment may be much smaller than Kim's but it has everything you need, a bedroom, an adequate space to be called a living room, and a fully functioning kitchen. The only downside is it's a farther commute to work but the affordable rent makes up for it and that's the most important thing.

"Are you going to take it?" Gaspard asks as he floats through the crowd like a divine being among mortals.

"I have to take it," you answer while trying to keep up with his long strides, "It's the best offer."

"I think so too," he says, putting his arm around you so you don't stray away from him.

"Yeah?"

He nods, "Cause then you'll be living only a few blocks away from me."

"Oh? You know what? I change my mind," you jokingly say, turning around to walk in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" He holds you back and steers you to the right way by the shoulders, "No turning back now!'

About a week ago, you made it very clear to Gaspard that you want to stay as good friends with him but it's easy to tell that he still believes this can be more than that. That leads you to act careful around him because you're scared that he's mistaken it for something else.

"Aren't you going to invite me upstairs?" He playfully asks as you both stand outside the apartment building.

"Better luck next time," You joke back with a gentle push on his chest.

"Not even for a can of beer?" He sweetly blinks his eyes at you in the hope that will be enough to persuade you.

"Just one!" You cave in because he's been helping you with the apartment hunting and you've been walking around since this afternoon until the day turns dark.

"Just one," he repeats your words in agreement.

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

The apartment is empty because Kim and Minho are out on a date which makes it a convenient time to enjoy a cold drink after a day's hard work.

"Where's Kim?" Gaspard asks as you join him on the sofa.

"I think they're going to the movies or something," you mindless answer, you couldn't care less about what they're doing on a date.

The two of you get quiet after taking a long gulp of beer and gasp at how refreshing it is like you didn't just have it with dinner earlier.

"I reckon you're going to break the news to Kim soon?" Gaspard asks as he leans back on the sofa with his head turned at you.

"Well... yeah," you meekly answer and it reminds you how of you're not ready for that part yet.

"How do you think she'll react?" He asks as he secretly puts his arm around your shoulders.

"I don't know," you sigh, then take a sip of your beer, "I just hope that she knows that the reason has nothing to do with her."

"What's the reason then?" Gaspard asks for the first time and seems to be genuinely curious about the answer.

It feels like you're trapped by your own words, you know the reason but you can't tell him or anyone for that matter.

"Because I want to live close to you," you decide to risk getting it mistaken for something else instead of letting him in on the answer.

With the hand around your shoulders, Gaspard easily pulls you close until you're sitting elbow to elbow and bumping knees with him on the sofa.

"Have I told you you looked beautiful today?" He seduces you as he's brushing your hair to the side.

"Not enough," you jokingly answer.

Gaspard leans in to whisper it to you right into your ear, "You're so beautiful," he mutters then kisses on the cheek.

"Thank you," you sweetly say with a smile.

Catching you off guard, he places one more kiss on the other cheek and pulls away with a big smile on his face. Well, you've done your part to spare him from the disappointment so it's not your fault that he puts himself back on the track for it.

"You promised it was going to be just one beer," you scold him along with a sassy eye roll.

"And I'm not finished with my beer yet," he cleverly answers.

The front door flies open and Kim comes into sight, finding you and Gaspard snuggling close together on the sofa. She smiles at you and puts down her bag on the dining table.

"What do we have here?" She asks with a sly smile.

"Nothing. We're just drinking beers," you calmly answer while quietly putting a safe space between you and Gaspard on the sofa.

"Yeah, I'm just here for one beer," Gaspard says, emphasizing the amount of beer with a sly grin flashed your way.

"And he'll leave soon," you add, returning the sly grin to him.

Taking this as a sign to give you privacy so you can break the news to Kim, Gaspard says, "And I'm leaving."

"No. Stay," Kim says as she sits on the sofa next to you.

"I can only bother you this much, Kim," he jokingly says and comes at you for a hug, "I'll see my way out."

"Thanks for today," you say as you hug him back.

You wait until Gaspard leaves to talk to Kim about what you did today and that you'll be moving out of the apartment soon. You finish your beer to fuel your courage and quietly exhale air to calm yourself down.

"Kim, I need to talk to you about something," you start.

Kim brushes her long dark hair and rests it on her shoulder like a waterfall, "Mmh? What is it?" She asks.

Now, that you have her attention and no one else is here except for the two of you, this is the right time to tell her. You open your mouth and plan to just give it to her all at once until Minho comes through the front door.

"Where do you want me to put it?" He asks Kim, showing the plastic bag he's carrying in his hand.

"Can you put them in the fridge for me, honey?" Kim answers.

"Sure," he shortly answers, going to the kitchen to do what Kim asked him to do.

"I ran out of my fiber drinks," she says, explaining what she made Minho bought for her.

"Ah, I see..." you meekly respond, losing every word you've been carefully arranging in your head so you abort the plan to tell her about the apartment situation.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" She asks with a soft smile on her face, making you feel even more disheartened to tell her.

"Oh, I..." you feel tempted to just let it all out but your eyes keep uneasily glancing at Minho and you don't want him there to hear it.

"I forgot what I'm trying to say to you. Sorry," you lie and add a foolish laugh to convince her.

Kim seems to buy it as she cracks a laugh and gently slaps your knee, "You silly!"

"I'll tell you once I remember it," you say to her.

Or more like, when Minho isn't around.

Two days have passed with Kim is still oblivious that you'll be moving out of the apartment soon.

You always missed each other's timing, when you had the time, Kim was in a hurry to go to the academy and when she was alone at home, you were working late that night. It's like a mysterious force trying to hold you back from telling her the truth.

When you came home from work tonight, you found Kim eating dinner alone in the kitchen. To make sure that Minho isn't around or coming unannounced like usual, you simply ask why she is by herself when her boyfriend always drives her home and usually stays to have dinner together.

"Minho's car broke down so I took a taxi home," Kim answers with a low sigh.

"Oh, that's upsetting," you keep your expression in check as you say it, not risking Kim catching you turn his misfortune into an opportunity.

"It's about time he sends his car to the shop anyway," Kim says.

It's unethical to interrupt her in the middle of her dinner so you carefully pick your timing and wait until she's done with her dinner to talk.

You grab a can of juice from the fridge and take a seat next to her, "Kim, can I talk to you about something?" you hesitantly say.

"Sure, babe," she says, putting down her glass of water then stacks her hands together on the dining table, "What is it?"

"A week ago, I found a suitable apartment not far from Gaspard's. It's not as big as this..." you gulp air to be able to continue talking, "It's in a nice neighborhood and the rent is affordable so I'm thinking of moving in there."

A moment passes in silence as Kim processes your words, her fingers wrapped around the bottom of her glass and tapping at it.

"You want to move out?" She asks as the glints in her eyes slightly dim.

"Yes," you hesitantly say.

"I reckon it's about time that I get my own place," you hurriedly add the number one reason why you want to move out so she doesn't think that it has anything to do with her.

"It's not because of me, right?" She meekly asks.

"No," you answer without a beat, "I love being your roommate but you know... I can't stay here forever. I eventually have to move out."

"Nonsense! You definitely can stay here forever," Kim remarks as she grabs your hand on your lap.

You put your hand on hers and softly smile at her, "I'd love to but..."

You can't keep living with her knowing you've been betraying her and the guilt is eating you alive from the inside as you speak? You continue in your head.

"It's either now or later, it's something that I have to do," you settle on a reasonable answer.

"That's true," Kim weakly says, looking a little taken aback by your announcement.

"I'm sorry if this is so sudden. I didn't mean to keep it this long, we were so busy these past few days that I only got the chance to tell you now," you explain with utmost sincerity.

Kim nods and puts on a smile for you, "it's okay. I understand."

Your heart is getting heavy the more you talk, you'd better end it before the guilt gets to you and you're giving it the chance to crawl out of you. You grab your purse, rummaging through the content for the envelope you've been putting aside and planning to give to Kim.

"This is for this month's rent," you hand the envelope straight into her hand.

She folds it in half and puts the envelope back into your hand, "Take it. You need it for moving and buying stuff for your new apartment.

"No, Kim. I can't. It's yours!" You forcefully put it back into her hand but she balls her hand into a fist.

"Consider this as an early housewarming gift," she insists, holding your hand down to make you stop giving the envelope back to her.

"Kim, no... I shouldn't—" You sigh in defeat, having no other way to make her accept your money.

"I'm going to miss you," Kim's voice cracks, and the next thing you know, she's hugging you so tightly that you can feel how much she meant her words.

"Oh, Kim, you can't get rid of me yet," you playfully say to lighten up the mood, "at least, for the next three weeks."

This is why you have to move out soon, Kim is too kind and all you do in return is use her kindness to fool her and stab her in the back, you've been treating her like a shit friend, and you feel sick have to keep doing that to her.

This is statement number two: Minho knows that he's the reason why.

There's this gut feeling that something is going to happen. This could be just a reaction to the change you'll face soon, new apartment, new neighborhood, there'll be no Kim, and the realization that you'll do everything on your own at that point.

It's scary and exciting, you feel a little bit of both at times. One thing that always lingers inside you is this slight fear that Minho possibly knows he's the reason why you decide to move out.

A week went by and you can safely assume that Kim must have told Minho about the apartment situation. You swear you're not expecting anything at all from Minho, but he's been strangely normal and taciturn which only confirms that something is actually off about him.

You should be taking this as an advantage because then you wouldn't have to interact with him and fewer interactions lead to you making fewer mistakes with him.

Work has been keeping you busy too that you haven't had the chance to pack your things. When you come home late tonight, Kim is already sleeping and you don't want to bother her by the sound of you shoving your things into boxes.

Well, you still have a week left anyway to sort your things out and you're tired from work, you hurriedly make your way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

In the midst of it, you hear the knocking on the door and your first thought is that Kim must be in urgency to use the bathroom.

"Kim?" You call but there's no answer

You turn off the shower and put on a bathrobe, you carefully walk as water drips down your body and hair to open the door.

"Is that you..." your words trail off as you see who's coming into the bathroom and it's not Kim.

There was no sign that Minho was in the apartment when you walked in because you could tell from the sight of his shoes in the foyer or his bag that sits in the living room so unless he has the ability to become invisible, it means that he came just now to the apartment.

Gosh! You tried so hard to avoid temptation and now it's coming to get you. You're clutching your bathrobe together and head to the door.

"You can use the bathroom," you say without looking at him.

He grabs you by the elbow to stop you from leaving, he pulls you hard enough that your body crashes against him, then wraps his arms around you.

"I heard you're moving out," he says.

You break away from his hold and put his hands away from you, "not your business," you say.

Minho is quick to catch your hands by the wrist then he folds them together behind your back, making you unable to move as he leans in to kiss you.

You turn your head to the side, not letting him kiss you but instead of doing that, he steers your body to the back until your back meets the bathroom sink.

"Is it because of me?" He asks.

You scoff and make a mocking smirk at him, "Not everything is about you, Minho," you say, daringly staring into his dark brown eyes.

Catching you off guard, Minho crashes his lips against you and you hate that you instinctively return his kiss. He pulls away for a bit then plants his lips on yours again, deeper and hungrier than before.

Getting a moment of clarity, you pull away from the kiss and keep your head turned away from him, "We can't keep doing this to Kim," you remark.

He leans in close until his face is only inches away from yours, "So you admit that it's because of me?"

There's no way of denying it anymore so you may as well just admit it, "You made me do this and I don't—"

He cuts you off with a kiss and you have to pull your head back hard enough to break it, "I hate myself for it and I hate you for making me keep doing this to Kim," you bravely tell him right to his face.

He leans in even closer so that you can see the dark orbs of his eyes, "Tell that to me once again," he dares you.

This is the time to break away from this cycle that shackles you with guilt, you should stop now before all this guilt weighs you down and drown you further.

"I hate you, Minho," you unequivocally tell him with unwavering eyes.

Minho intensely stares into your eyes to see if your words match what you're feeling inside. His eyes flick down to your lips, tempted to lean in for another but when his lips make contact with yours, he changes his mind.

He lets go of his hold on you all at once and then takes a step back, exiting the room and leaving you untethered for good.

It seems like what you've said to him has done it because Minho acts like you're not even there whenever you're in the same space with him and this morning, you find yourself in the kitchen with him just quietly minding your own business.

This is good, right? That means there'll be no more mistakes, no more betraying Kim and you can start being a good friend again. The best thing of all, you get to move out of the apartment on a good note.

"Hey, you're not working late tonight, right?" Kim asks as you're enjoying your morning coffee.

"I hope not," you say, putting down your half-eaten toast on the plate, "Cause I have lots to do tomorrow."

Kim nods and pours herself a glass of orange juice, "Since this will be your last night in an apartment, I'm hoping that we can have dinner together," she says with a smile.

She walks up to Minho and places her hand on the small of his back, "Minho will be cooking, of course, and I'll get a nice bottle of wine for—"

You quickly swallow your food to refuse the idea, "Oh, no, Kim, please, I don't feel good—"

She clicks her tongue at you and shakes her head, "No, you can't say no. I'll be waiting for you to come home whether you like it or not," she insists.

Maybe it's coming from the fact that she comes from a privileged family, Kim can be quite adamant about certain things, especially when she wants something, in one way or another, she has to get it.

The whole time at work, you're debating whether to make an excuse to avoid attending dinner or just gladly accept Kim's kind gesture and come to the dinner, the latter is what a good friend would do, right?

On the way home, you purposely missed the trains a couple of times before finally getting in. You're dreading it because Minho is cooking dinner and that means he'll be there for it, and this is worse than doing things behind Kim's back because you have to act innocent in front of her.

At the door of the apartment, you take a few deep breaths with your hand holding the doorknob. You console yourself with the thought that you'll only have to endure it for one more night and all this will disappear tomorrow.

"I'm home," you announce your arrival and try your best to sound cheerful as you make your way inside.

As expected, Kim is sitting at the dining table with Minho and it seems like they started without you as you see the glasses of wine.

"Oh, there you are!" Kim claps her hands together in delight.

"I'm sorry. The train was delayed for almost an hour," you make up an excuse for your tardiness while putting down your bag on the kitchen counter and head to the kitchen sink to wash your hands.

"I hope you don't mind that we almost finished the first bottle without you," Kim says.

"I don't mind at all," you say as you dry your hand with a napkin.

As you take a seat at the dining table, Minho gets up his seat and heads to the kitchen. You can't tell if that's intentional or not, but you remind yourself to not give an ounce of care to whatever he's doing.

"Minho only needs to reheat the sauce and dinner will be ready," Kim says as she fills your glass with red wine and the aphrodisiac smell wafting around in the room.

"Thank you," You smile in gratitude and take a small sip of it.

"So, how was work?"

"Dreadful," you shortly answer and reward yourself with another sip.

Kim cracks a laugh and something about it gives you the impression that she's rather a little intoxicated already.

"I'm sorry that I can't help you move out tomorrow," she says as she pours more wine into her glass which you deem is not a smart move.

"That's more than fine," you respond, "I heard from Gaspard you guys have started practicing for the winter show."

"Oh, yeah..." she softly says and then gets lost in her words for a second.

"We're doing The Nutcracker, again," she says with a dramatic pause.

"That sounds fun!" You nicely respond.

"You should come on the opening day, I'll send the ticket," she enthusiastically says and sips her wine.

"Only if you come to my little housewarming party," you meekly say even though you're not sure you know how to throw a party of any kind.

"That's a deal!" She says, clinking her glass of wine with you to seal the deal.

The mouthwatering smell has taken over the room as Minho serves the food on the table, he's cooking pasta and a big steak to share which he has sliced, showing off the perfect level of cooking doneness.

"This is delicious, honey," Kim praises after taking a bite of it, she then turns to look at you, "What do you think?"

"This is really good," you compliment because, despite everything, you can't deny that he's a good cook which also reminds you to thank him for it.

"Thank you for cooking dinner, Minho," you say even though his name feels dry and strange on your tongue.

He only nods and doesn't say anything but put more food on Kim's plate, and you can't lie that you feel a little dejected by his lack of reaction.

The dinner would be a big awkward moment if Kim wasn't leading ninety percent of the conversation on the table but as the night goes on and more wine dawned in, Kim starts to slur her words and mindlessly rambles about random things all at once. It gets to the point that she accidentally knocks things off, first it was her glass of wine and then, a pitcher of water that is now flooding the dining table.

"Kim, I think it's time for bed," you kindly say.

She brushes her hair away and sniffles, "But it's your last night here."

"We'll still be seeing each other tomorrow," you console her.

She cracks a smile and then snorts, "That's right."

Minho is quick to offer himself to carry her to bed but before she comes into his arms, Kim crashes herself into you and hugs you so tightly.

"You're the best roommate I've ever had," she mumbles with her head buried in your neck.

You put your arms around her to return her hug and gently pat her back, "That's so sweet of you, Kim."

"And I'm not saying that because you're the only roommate I've ever had, I genuinely love having you here," she says, pausing to inhale air.

"it's going to be so weird coming home and you're not here," she adds with a sniffle.

You can't bring yourself to check whether she's crying or not because if she does, there's a big chance you'll cry too. Instead, you look at Minho to let him know this is why you can't hurt her anymore.

All of a sudden, Kim breaks away from the hug and runs to Minho, she lets him take her to the bedroom. You watch as they get inside and close the door behind them.

After cleaning up the dining table and doing the dishes, you can finally go to your bedroom, being with yourself for the first time after a long, eventful day.

The room is bare since you have packed everything into boxes and you're standing there wondering how your life fits in those boxes. It gets you all sentimental as you feel like you're going on a new path in life.

The moment gets interrupted as you notice through the reflection in the mirror that Minho is coming into your room. Before you can stop him, he barges in and crashes his body against yours, lips instantly locked with yours as if they're two opposites of the magnet.

"Minho..." you sadly whine against his lips.

When you look into his eyes though, you just can't find it in you to resist him anymore so you give in and let tonight be another mistake.

Just one more mistake, you tell yourself.

Minho likes it when you're saying one thing but your body does the opposite. He's holding you close from behind and his hand is down south, fingers playing with your clit before he pushes one digit inside you, making you shut your legs together in reaction.

"We can't do this," you mutter against his lips.

He's expecting you to say that at one point but not this early in the night and not when he's just started. He presses his mouth into your ear and whispers, "Fight back harder if you don't want this."

There are so many ways for you to tell him off, you can break away from his hold, you can push him away and close the door right on his face but you do want this, he can see in the mirror how you liked being touched all over and how you like two fingers instead of one inside you.

"Oh..." you shakily moan as he enters two digits into you now.

Minho can feel it blooming under his touch and how wet you are for him, how your body wants more of him despite all of your efforts to stop him.

And you know what? He wants you just as much if not more.

He starts undressing you, taking every piece of clothing off of you as eager as a child unwrapping his Christmas present, and then gently, he lays you down on the end of the bed.

You look up at him with your eyes wide and flickering with desire, "Let's stop here, I let you—"

There you go with your empty warning again, he shuts you off with a kiss, "There's no way I can hold back," he says to you.

Impatient, he rips open his shirt and tosses it aside before kneeling at the end of the bed to indulge in your pool of arousal. Your moans begin to fill the room and in the mirror, he can see you try to muffle it by covering your mouth with your hand.

Minho can't get over how wet you are for him and he wants to keep it that way as he has lots of things he wants to do to you.

He gets up from the floor and quickly gets rid of his jeans next, then wastes no time to walk up to you. He takes your legs by the ankles, lifting them and holding them close to his chest, and then slowly, he parts them open.

Oh, the sight of your wet flushed cunt will never cease to arouse him. His head gets dizzy just from looking at it and it starts spinning as you put your hand around his cock.

"Fuck!" He curses under his breath as you bring his cock and rub it between your folds, making him more impatient to be inside you.

His patience wears thin and he puts his focus on aligning it with your entrance.

"Minho, I told you we can't— oh..." you loudly moan as you feel his cock penetrates you and stop talking as he pushes the rest in a painstakingly slow motion to make sure you feel every inch of his length stretching you.

"Doesn't this feel way too good?" He says as he deeply stares into your eyes.

He doesn't need to hear you say it, he knows because you feel too good around him too. He is steadily holding your legs on each side of his waist as he starts thrusting into you.

Minho can't decide whether he should watch his cock slipping in and out of you or watch how much you're enjoying it, quietly moaning while tugging your fingers between your teeth.

One thing he knows what to do is to make this last as long as possible, he stops when he knows you're closing in on your high.

"Oh," you sigh as he pulls out of you and swiftly, turns you over on the bed.

Now, he has you lying on your stomach and he grips your waist, raising it a little higher to give him just the right angle to enter you from behind.

You whine as you feel him full again and he's lowering himself on top of you, he's propping his elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Minho puts his hand around your neck and slightly tilts your head to the back to land a kiss on your lips. He can feel the blood rushing in your veins with his hand wrapped around your neck.

"Minho, let's stop this already," you whine.

Despite his cock buried deep inside you, you still find it in you to try to stop him. He kisses you hard and deep as if he's trying to strip all of your senses away.

"Shut up!" He tells you, "You don't even want to stop."

From the way you close your mouth is enough to tell him that you have no response to that but he knows now that he needs to fuck all these worries out of you.

Minho does all of that, he's fucking you with all his might, he watches how your face contorted in pleasure, how your hands are crumpling the sheet under you as he picks up the pace.

"Minho..." you breathlessly call.

Before you can say anything to stop him again, he grabs your chin and makes you see your reflection in the mirror, "Look at that!"

He waits until you open your eyes and see yourself in the mirror as he asks you, "Does it look like you want me to stop?"

Fucking you good isn't enough, he needs to fuck you hard enough that you forget everything else except for this moment where only you and him exist in this sinful tryst.

"If you keep going, I'm going to come," you whine between your moans.

Minho takes that as a sign that he's heading the right way but rather than adding speed to his thrusts, he slows down his pace and allows himself to melt onto you, putting his body on yours, placing kisses all over your shoulder and neck until his lips find their way back to yours.

There's no way he's finishing this without seeing your face when it's everything he wanted the most from it, seeing how fucked out you are that you can't find words to say.

After turning you over on the bed, he takes a moment to let his eyes lust over your body and then he runs his hand all over you, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips. He's using his mouth next to suck on your breasts and his tongue to play with your nipples.

All these times, he's been good by not doing it but the urge to mark you is getting unbearable so he does it, sucking on your ample flesh hard enough that he knows it's going to leave a mark.

"Ow..." you yelp in pain but it comes out as a mewl as you try to keep your noises on the low.

Minho settles himself between your legs, burying his head once again in your wetness to prepare you for what comes next. You're whining and moaning, sometimes, it's a mix of both and it's resounding in the room.

He starts to believe that you forgot about his girlfriend sleeping in the bedroom across the room, he puts it to the test by sucking on your clit which earned a loud moan for you. He's right, you forgot about it until a while later, and you hurriedly cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

He gets impatient all over again when it comes to entering you, he can only hold himself back so much and his self-control is wearing thin. He's lowly groaning as he pushes himself back into you, feeling your tight walls welcoming him.

"How are you feel so good every damn time, mmh?" He asks in disbelief with a rough kiss on your lips.

The sex feels so much better than the previous and if he could, he is just wanting to keep doing it with you because it doesn't feel like with other people, including his girlfriend of almost three years.

He watches as your eyes fluttering open and shut, and breathless moans spilling out of your parted mouth, overwhelmed by what he's doing to you.

"Look at you! Making lewd moans for me," he mutters with an intense gaze directed toward you.

He brushes your hair away from your face and kisses your open mouth, "Aren't you supposed to hate me?"

You lick your lips and look at him through your half-shut eyes, "I hate— oh..."

He launches his cock deeper inside you, not letting you finish your sentence, and keeps the intensity of his thrusts to distract you.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" You manage to repeatedly say and Minho roughly thrusts into you every time you say it.

"That doesn't sound convincing," he mockingly says, pretending like it doesn't affect him when in fact, it does.

"I hate you and I hate your guts," you say with your body shaking from how hard he's fucking you and your breasts jiggling along to it.

The hate somehow encourages him to keep going, he's letting go of himself and letting his body take care of the rest. He doesn't need to worry about you, he knows you are on the brink of—

"Oh, my—" You let out a broken moan as you reach your climax

Minho keeps moving to chase his high, his nails digging into the flesh on your thighs as he's going impossibly fast, ramming himself into you until he too, finally reaches his high.

Even though he's high in unadulterated pleasure and his brain is foggy because of it, he knows his way to your kiss, he slowly puts himself on top of you and softly places his lips on yours. There's something intimate about this, it feels pure and raw, it's just you and him locked in a chaste kiss.

However, when you break from the kiss, you look at him and say for the umpteenth time, "I hate you, Minho."

Isn't it tiring to lie? Isn't it tiring to keep hiding? But sure, you can say things that go against what you're feeling and betray your own heart as much as you want but Minho isn't one to do that kind of thing.

He holds the side of your face and fiercely looks back into your eyes as he calmly says, "That's too bad because I like you."

That makes it the third statement: Minho likes you.

If the other two are the truth then that makes this a lie, right? But, oh well, why bother figuring it out when you've already moved on from that part of life?

It takes a month to adjust to your new apartment and discover some places around your neighborhood like a regular cafe to visit when you need your caffeine fix and a bakery that sells this delicious bagel when you need a breakfast to-go.

There's no denying that you miss Kim from time to time and it feels a little lonely when you come home from work, and that's why you're excited for tonight, you're having the housewarming party that has been postponed twice because Kim got tied with her practice schedule.

Swear to God! You're just excited to meet her again and not at the possibility that you'll meet her boyfriend again.

Since you doubt your skill in cooking, you decide to order some food from Gaspard's recommendations and he also comes early to help set the table.

"You're chipper than usual," he comments as he cleans the table with a cloth.

"Am I? I feel exceptionally normal," you playfully respond.

When the doorbell rings, your heart palpation and you can't even bring yourself to peek through the peephole, you take a deep breath and turn the knob.

"Hi, my darling!" Kim gasps the second you open the door for her and you both exchange a quick, warm hug.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind me bringing a plus one," she adds, opening the door wider to let someone else in.

The excitement fills you to the brim that you feel like you're about to combust but it deflates in a second when you see that she's bringing someone else.

"You remember Astrid?" Kim asks.

You hide your disappointment and put on a smile, "I believe we met at the party," you vaguely remember her from her dirty blonde hair and Kim's fellow dancer.

"Yes, exactly that Astrid," she says as she shakes your hand.

"Please, come in!" You politely say, making a way for your guests to come inside your small apartment.

Gaspard appears to welcome Kim and gives her a quick hug, as if he heard your thoughts, he asks, "I thought you'd be with Minho."

"His car broke down again," Kim sighs as she takes off her coat, "I already told him so many times to buy a new one instead of sending his car to the shop."

This is so infuriating. No matter how much you convince yourself that you don't care about Minho, reality slaps you with the truth. You've been under the illusion that this distance will help you diminish this feeling but you do care, you care a lot.

The party went well or that's what you guessed, you were out of it most of the time, your body was here but your mind was going all over the place.

"You're so quiet," Gaspard comments again as he helps you clean up after Kim and Astrid leave.

"I'm just... sad," you honestly admit but decide to lie about the details, "Soon you'll be leaving too and I'm alone again."

Gaspard slyly smiles at you and leans the side of his body against the wall, "I mean, I can stay with you," he offers.

You scoff and put the dirty glasses into the sink, "Well, then you won't be missing me tomorrow," you say with a pout.

He sighs as he takes your subtle rejection with an open heart, "Are we still on for Sunday brunch?"

"Why? Do you need to cancel?" You jokingly say.

He bumps his shoulder with you as he joins in the kitchen sink to help you with the dishes, "Your treat!"

"Sure. My treat!" You agree with a bump into his shoulder.

A little after eleven, Gaspard left the apartment too with a long hug and a kiss on your cheek. You're going back inside to tidy up a few things while draining the wine from the leftover dinner, chugging it straight from the bottle.

It feels rewarding that you finish the wine by the time you're done cleaning the kitchen and now, you're tired enough to not think of anything else and ready for bed.

As you're about to change out of your dress, you hear the doorbell rings and your first thought is it's Gaspard, because he's done it before and he's shooting his shot for the umpteenth time. You're holding yourself back from laughing and head to the door to open it, unlocking it without checking it through the peephole first.

"What? Do you miss me already?" You jokingly say as you pull open the door.

"Yes," Minho answers without a beat as he's standing in front of you, making your heart race inside your chest and waking the kaleidoscope of butterflies as they start to flutter around in your stomach.

The first thing that comes to your head is what he said to you that night. Minho likes you and you still can't determine this one statement, well, it seems like you need to play another round to know if it's a lie or a truth.

Support my works by reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

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dantakeyoman · 2 years

Text

You and Kiri Overhear Lo’ak Giving Neteyam Advice On How To Ask You Out (SFW / Comfort)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: fluffy fluff, Neteyam is adorable, Lo’ak and Kiri duo strike again, all this is based on this one tik tok sound that I heard that was SO adorable, and it screamed Neteyam

“I’m telling you, that boy is obsessed! I’ve never seen someone pine over another so much,” Kiri laughed, giving you a playful shove.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better. If he liked me as much as you said, he would’ve said something already,” you playfully rolled your eyes, waving your friend off.

You two had just finished healing lessons with Mo’at, and were now on your way back to the Sully tent to hang out with the boys.

Kiri was swearing up and down that the feelings you had for Neteyam were very valid and very mutual, but you weren’t buying it.

Neteyam was a warrior, a Sully, a future Olo’eyktan.

You were just a simple girl who wanted to become a simple healer.

In your eyes, there was nothing special about you. You weren’t the best hunter, singer, or dancer.

So why would he ever like you?

A romantic relationship with Neteyam was a pipe dream. And to keep from getting hurt, you reminded yourself of this fact over and over again.

“Well, my brother may not look it, but he’s an idiot. And a shy one at that. But that shyness and idiocy is alllll for you,” Kiri teased, giving you a few pokes in the stomach.

“Quit it!” you laughed, frantically shoving her hands away.

That was your tickle spot.

“You’re crazy! I could never say that!” a familiar voice exclaimed from inside a nearby tent.

You and Kiri quieted your giggles, turning to each other in confusion before moving closer to the home, peeking through a small tear.

“Shut it! Do you want the whole clan to hear?!” Lo’ak harshly whispered, shushing his older brother.

Neteyam.

“I’m sorry, but that’s far too bold. I’ll scare her away,” Neteyam dismissed, resting his hands on his knees, which were sat criss-cross.

Her?

You felt a piece of your heart break, and tears well in your eyes.

They were talking about a girl. One who Neteyam seemed fond of.

“We should go. It’s rude to listen in,” you whispered, your voice small and slightly broken.

Why were you feeling this way?

A lump in your throat seemed to grow larger and larger every time his words replayed in your head.

You had tried to push away your feelings, but at the first mention of another girl, it was made perfectly clear that you could not hide emotions so intense.

And Kiri was quick to pick up on this.

“Now hold on a minute. Let’s hear the rest,” she held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Little did the two of you know, Lo’ak had heard every word you said, and was now going to make it his mission to put on a show for Neteyam’s girl outside.

He knew his brother was a painful over-thinker, and would never make the first move on you.

So why not give him a little push?

“Okay, so what do you want to tell her then?” Lo’ak started again with a sigh, giving his brother tired eyes.

Neteyam groaned, raking a nervous hand through his braids. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Girls love compliments. So you gotta compliment her. Tell me a feature of (y/n)’s you like,” Lo’ak smiled, hopefully talking loud enough so you could hear

“Her eyes. They’re so big and beautiful, and have such a pretty, yellow color to them. I want to tell her this, but how should I?” Neteyam asked again.

“Just say it, bro. Walk up to her, flash her a nice smile, then say, Hey, (y/n). Did anyone ever tell you your eyes are beautiful?” Lo’ak demonstrated, making a Neteyam face at the last part.

You blushed so hard you thought you might burst.

Neteyam felt this way...about you?

“See, there you go again. You may be able to say that, but I cannot. I do not......I do not have your confidence,” Neteyam looked down at himself, hanging his head.

This was pathetic.

He needed to get help from his baby brother in order to talk to you.

He had faced his Iknimaya, Sky People, even his angry dad. But talking to you was scarier than all of those three things combined.

Lo’ak gasped, abruptly standing up from his seat. “You have loads to be confident about, bro! Just look at you.”

He smirked, walking over to his brother and giving him a firm pat on the back.

“You’re a strong warrior, a skilled hunter, and a killer with a bow and arrow. Not to mention you have the devilishly good looks of us Sully men. You’re the whole package, dude.”

Neteyam slightly smiled, thankful for his brother’s praise, but still on the fence about all this.

Lo’ak sighed, sitting down in front of the nervous boy.

“Let’s try something else. Why don’t you tell me what you like about her face? Her lips? Her hair? The way she braids her hair? What about-?” “I love all of it, okay!” Neteyam interrupted, unable to take this anymore.

“I can’t pick one thing to like because they all are perfect to me. She is perfect to me. But I cannot just walk up to her and tell her this because what if she does not feel the same. I’d have poured my heart out, only for it to spill on the floor.”

Damn.

Lo’ak had no idea his brother could be so poetic.

Sure, it would make him want to barf if anyone else had said it. But this was his brother, and he was happy for him.

Lo’ak smirked, realizing the trap he just led Neteyam in and giving his mental self a high-five.

Mission Accomplished.

Meanwhile, you were practically about to faint.

Your long time crush had just professed his love for you loud and proud.

And while you were over the moon with this news, Kiri’s I told you so face was starting to get on your nerves.

“C’mon. Let’s go before we get caught,” you whispered, getting ready to tip-toe away.

“You ladies can come in now!” Lo’ak cockily announced, you and Neteyam turning as pale as ghosts.

Shit.

...

taglist !!

@vane28282, @remutoast, @p1nkprint, @ladyorchidia, @anthonys-viscountess, @karmz-7319, @cantbuysophialove, @scarabruhs, @an0th3rsss, @deloe18, @mariiyoushi, @av1xar, @alexxcorona113, @may-and-lay, @overlyfancybreakfastfoods, @harshita-hiranyamayi, @qui-02, @myheartfollower, @morks-watermelon, @bangtanxberm, @adavenus, @sweetdayme4427, @lilac13

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #atwow x reader #atwow #omitacaya

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inkspiredwriting · 15 days

Text

Rainy Reconciliation

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The sky above was a tumult of swirling clouds, promising an imminent downpour. Five Hargreeves and his wife, Y/n, were caught in their own storm inside their cozy apartment. What started as a minor disagreement over something trivial had spiraled into a heated argument, fueled by stress and frayed nerves from the day’s challenges.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the meeting with the Commission!” Y/n’s voice was raised, her eyes flashing with frustration.

Five, standing by the window, sighed and rubbed his temples. “I didn’t think it was necessary to worry you. I had it under control.”

“Under control?” Y/n scoffed. “Five, you always think you have everything under control, but sometimes you need to let me in! We’re a team, remember?”

Five turned to face her, his expression a mix of guilt and stubbornness. “I know we’re a team, Y/n. But some things are complicated. I didn’t want to burden you.”

Y/n crossed her arms, shaking her head. “It’s not about burdening me. It’s about sharing our lives, our struggles. I want to be there for you, even if it’s messy.”

The argument continued to escalate, their voices mingling with the distant rumble of thunder outside. The intensity of their emotions was palpable, each trying to make the other understand their perspective.

As their argument reached a crescendo, the first fat raindrops began to splatter against the window. Five glanced outside, noticing the rain starting to fall in earnest. Y/n, too, seemed to notice, her anger momentarily diffused by the sudden change in weather.

Without another word, she turned and opened the front door, stepping out into the rain. Five watched, momentarily stunned, as she walked into the downpour, her figure silhouetted against the gray sky.

Concerned and unwilling to let her go, Five grabbed his coat and followed her outside. The rain was cold and relentless, soaking them both within moments.

“Y/n, wait!” Five called, jogging to catch up with her. His voice softened as he reached her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

Y/n stopped and turned to face him, rain streaming down her cheeks like tears. “I know you didn’t. I just... I want to be part of your life, all of it. Even the hard parts.”

Five stepped closer, his own frustrations melting away in the rain. “You’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, they stood there in the rain, both drenched and shivering but feeling the tension between them dissolve. Five reached out, gently brushing a wet strand of hair from Y/n’s face.

“I love you,” he said softly, his eyes full of sincerity. “I don’t want to fight. I want us to be okay.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. “I love you too. And we will be okay.”

A mischievous glint appeared in Five’s eyes as he extended his hand to Y/n. “Dance with me?”

Y/n blinked in surprise but then laughed, a sound that was like sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. “Here? In the rain?”

“Why not?” Five grinned, taking her hand and pulling her close.

With a shrug, Y/n let herself be drawn into his embrace. The rain continued to fall around them, creating a shimmering curtain that enclosed their private world. Five wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his, guiding her into a slow, unsteady waltz.

They moved together, their laughter mingling with the sound of the rain. Five twirled Y/n under his arm, both of them stumbling slightly on the wet pavement but not caring in the least. The argument was forgotten, replaced by the simple joy of being together.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” Y/n teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as they swayed together.

Five chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know. But you make me want to be better.”

Y/n’s heart swelled with affection, and she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat through his soaked shirt. They continued to dance, the rain washing away the remnants of their argument and leaving only the pure, undeniable love they had for each other.

Eventually, the rain began to let up, and they were left standing in the gentle drizzle, both soaked but happier than they had been in a long time. Five kissed Y/n’s forehead, his lips warm against her cool skin.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured. “We should probably dry off before we catch a cold.”

Y/n nodded, but as they walked back to their apartment, she squeezed his hand, a silent promise of understanding and forgiveness. They would still have their disagreements and arguments, but moments like this reminded them of what truly mattered.

Inside, they toweled off and changed into dry clothes, sharing quiet smiles and soft touches. As they settled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket together, Five turned to Y/n, his eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “For everything. For being patient with me.”

Y/n leaned her head on his shoulder, her heart full of warmth. “Always, Five. Always.”

They fell asleep that night, curled up together, knowing that whatever storms they faced, they would face them together. And sometimes, just sometimes, those storms would lead to dancing in the rain.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot #five hargreeves

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mikareo · 11 months

Text

⌗ TWO SLOW DANCERS ₊ ˖ ་. gojo satoru x fem reader (1.2k)

⊹ ⠀⠀why doesn’t he love you?

contains; angst, rejection, reader just wants to be loved, gojo's kinda a dick, mitski did this to me, not proofread author's note; i'm thinking abt the guy who didn't want me rn sorry

“Can I ask you something?” you murmur, your voice nothing above a faint whisper. Fear of judgment is laced within it, something you can’t help but wish you could get rid of. “It’s going to sound ridiculous, and if you think so you can just ignore me.” He’s going to ignore you.

However, Gojo sits up straighter. His eyes are intending to focus on you. “Nothing you say is ridiculous. I’m always here to listen.” You want to believe him so badly. There’s nothing else in the world that you wish for. All you need is a confession, him reciprocating the depth of your feelings, but you know that’s impossible. If he felt the same, he wouldn’t have started seeing that girl; no matter the fact that she’s wonderful for him, amazing, and kind. If she’s so amazing, what are you doing wrong? What is it about her that you can’t compare to? You know you’d be perfect for Gojo. He’s your best friend. He’s the person who knows you better than anyone, so why is it that he doesn’t love you the same way you love him? It doesn’t make sense.

What are you doing wrong?

“...am I difficult to love?” You feel like you already know the answer. It’s a pointless question that’s been eating you up inside for years, ever since you first met and he instantly treated you as a friend when you wanted to be loved by him. “I know it’s silly, but I feel so helpless.”

Without realizing it, your words flow from your lips like a river streaming downhill. Not even the largest dam could hold in your insecurities. “I try so hard, everyday to be kind and patient and perfect; but no one seems to notice. Is there something that everyone else has that I don’t? What am I missing that makes me invisible? Why do I feel so stuck while the world keeps moving and progressing and making changes that I can’t keep up with? Why don’t you love me?”

There it is.

There’s the question that you’ve swallowed down for the past ten years of knowing Gojo Satoru…and somehow…

…it seems that he already knows the answer.

“I do love you.”

In half a second, your heart beats faster. It swells with an overwhelming pink feeling that practically causes it to burst. You almost see stars. In your imagination you’re flying through the night sky, weaving constellations together as you hold Gojo’s hand and ask him what he’s wishing on that shooting star, oh so close to you. So close, yet so far. So far, that it never reaches you; because nothing is ever as it seems. It isn’t a wish racing your way, it’s a meteorite. A meteor thats target is the home in your heart that you’ve made so lovingly for your best friend. The flaming rock finds your weakest point and begins to wither it away into nothing but hopeless shreds of dreams. In a half a second, you’re on the top of the world. In a half a second, your world is destroyed.

“I just don’t love you in the way you want me to.”

You’re a fool. You knew this was coming.

“I can’t imagine my life without you.” Shut up. Why can’t he just shut up? You don’t need these filler words, these empty statements that he’s only saying to make you feel better about your worthless self. “You’re such an important part of my everyday.” Shut up!

It’s so hard to hold in the tears. Your dam already burst— but instead of a river, it seems that you’ve got an ocean of feelings. This ocean is polluted, though. It’s littered in trash and oil, after years of wanting something that was never yours. Other men have thrown their waste in your waters and Gojo’s always been the one to clean it up. He’s always made you laugh…made you smile…made you believe that everything is going to be okay as long as you trust him. Now, you’ve made the mistake of trusting him with your heart; when he’s never cared if it shatters.

“Please don’t say those things to me.” It’s pathetic, the whimper shaking from the tip of your tongue. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Gojo isn’t even replying to you. He’s simply staring with the most pitiful look in his eyes, as if you’re a dying animal that he’s just shot with a rifle. How do you make him stop looking at you like that? You’re better than this! Just suck it up and smile!

Somehow, you find yourself laughing. “Don’t worry about it, Satoru. I’ll be fine, it’s just a silly little crush.” You’re lying.

It’s so obvious you’re lying.

He’s never been a crush. If he was a fleeting crush, then you wouldn’t spend your nights thinking of how you made him smile earlier in the day. You wouldn’t know his favorite place, song, and movie at the top of your head. You wouldn’t imagine his face whenever you picture your wedding day— at the end of the aisle, smiling at you with tears in his eyes. If he was just a little crush, it wouldn’t feel like your entire world is ending.

“I know you’ve liked me, it’s a little obvious.” He shrugs. “I just assumed you’d get over it?”

He knew? He’s known all this time?

There’s a war raging between your heart and your mind. It’s a battlefield with logic on one side and love on the other. The rational part of you knows that he can’t help his feelings. He can’t force himself to reciprocate something that he’s never felt before. That’s unfair to him, and you can’t make him love you…

…but the other half of you can’t accept that.

After all these years of waiting for him. Years and years of watching your closest friends find love, be loved, and experience all of the firsts that you’ve always wanted to experience with him by your side. He doesn’t love you. You’ve known Gojo Satoru since you were ten years old. You’re twenty now and still so delusional that you believe he can feel the same way. Why can’t he, though? Gojo knows you from front to back. If there’s anyone in the world who could write an encyclopedia titled with your name, it’s him; and he still doesn’t love you. You’re the person who’s been there for him through countless breakups and temper tantrums. You’re the one who he trusts most in this world, yet he will never…ever…want you back.

Someone is writing the story of the world. Someone is tying the strings of fate, the line of destiny, or whatever you want to call it; and that someone isn’t on your side. They never have been and they never will be…

…at least not in the case of Gojo Satoru.

“I’ll try my best.” A phony smile graces your face and you’re now realizing that he’s never once called you beautiful. Yet, you still want him. Perhaps it’s human nature to wish for the things that are terrible for you. “You don’t have to worry about me, Satoru. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, maybe in ten years.

“I’ll be able to forget about this.”

You don’t think you will.

“I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”

Your feelings are an inconvenience.

“It’s nothing.”

It was love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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islandofsages · 9 months

Note

hello!! I was hoping I could request gn!reader (aka Yuu) who loves dancing (and is actually really good at it, preferably something like contemporary dancing?) but hasn't told anyone in nrc. basically, the boys' reaction to stumbling upon them dancing one day!!

(requesting for cater, lilia, riddle, jamil, malleus, rook and vil!!)

thank youuuu <3

characters: riddle, cater, jamil, vil, rook, malleus and lilia x gn!yuu

tags: relationship not specified, fluff, imagines format; grim mention in riddle's, cater's, malleus' and lilia's. vil mention in cater's. kalim mention in jamil's. vil's is set in book 5

warnings: use of the word "dear" as a term of endearment in lilia's part

author's notes: i tried making them stumble yuu in different places so if they seem random thats why lol also i almost forgot about the "hasn't told anyone at nrc" part i get so carried away sometimes help 😭

Riddle Rosehearts

He has a deep appreciation for dancing and consequently, he respects anyone who is a connoisseur of the art

He would tell you everything he knows about the art and comes to you to inform you on any new things he learns about it

You would tell him that you’re a dancer yourself, especially contemporary dance; the freeing nature of your favorite form has proven to be an effective way to relieve stress and express yourself

…But you’re a bit too shy to admit that to someone as amazing as Riddle - so fate takes the matter into its own hands

You were dancing in Ramshackle’s lounge, all by yourself since Grim is napping, a luxury you don’t get to afford too often

You simply felt like it; you put on some music and suddenly your body grows a mind of its own

You were so absorbed in your performance that you didn’t manage to hear knocks rapping on your door, let alone the sound of footsteps leading up to it

Sensing no answer from you and immediately growing worried, whoever was at the door bursted in to search for you… only to be met with a you in the middle of a dance move

It takes you a few seconds to notice him standing there in awe of your movements. When you do, you instantly ran over to the source of your music and switched it off in embarrassment

He asked you why you did that and would love for you to continue dancing but you only shook your head and tell him you weren’t fully ready to show off your moves yet and that you were simply going with the flow

“I mean, that’s kinda the whole point of contemporary dancing, just going with the flow? But still, I need to choreograph some parts of it to actually look like a form of dance.”

He chuckles at your response and doesn’t push you to resume if you feel uncomfortable. You thank him for respecting your boundaries

Though everything between you goes smoothly after the incident, you’ll never forget the look on his face when he laid his eyes on: the pure wonder in his eyes told everything you needed to know.

Cater Diamond

He thinks dancing is super cool and he sometimes try to demonstrate that - and in your opinion, he’s not half-bad at it despite what Vil would say

You would show off your own moves but you don’t wanna kill his vibes, even if he’d think you’re super good at it

But one day you’ll tell him how much you love contemporary dance and the fact that it can convey every human emotion and experience; and then that day comes, though very unexpectedly you would say

It was late in the evening; the school hallways are mostly empty, save for you and Grim casually having a conversation while walking your way back to your dorm

But one glance outside gives you all the inspiration you need for an impromptu dance session - the sky is bleeding orange, blazing yellow bandaging it

Your movements shift. You are now a tribute to the sunset. Grim stands aside and watches you with a sigh but he holds back his witty comments for after you’re done with your performance

Little did you know you have another person in your audience - Cater also had late evening classes and only now he’s heading back to Heartslabyul

At least, that was his initial plan. Seeing you dancing in the hallway caught him off guard, firstly because who in their right mind would dance in the hallways but secondly (and mainly), the way you move enchanted him

Could it even be called moving? Your limbs bend and flex so smoothly that he thought they turned into water somehow

By the time you’re done, you’re given a standing ovation by both of your spectators - one of whose you jump at in shock

“Yuu, that was like, crazy good! Are you secretly some pro dancer or something?”

You blush a little at the fact that he saw you and at the compliment; after that event, it’s impossible to hide anything from him so you simply tell him everything you know

You’d give him pointers and you’re happy to see his improvement from day to day but most importantly, his shining, genuine smile is something you wouldn’t miss for the world.

Jamil Viper

You know he’s very passionate about dance and you truly admire his skill for it

Although he’d be the perfect dance partner, you feel a little self-conscious sharing your own passion for dancing with him

He seems to sparkle when he shows off his skills and you think you lack that type of shine to your own - he begs to differ though, you’ve come to learn

The two of you were hanging out in his room, music pouring out from his stereo and you drowning in it, your limbs spread out on the floor

Then your room is shaken by some unknown noise, though you can assume it’s Kalim-induced, to which Jamil sighed and excused himself to go check out and possibly fix up

You lay there on your own then, nodding your head to the music, until a song you liked dominates the speakers, taking you by surprise

You don’t know what happened but as soon as the first note hit, you’re on your feet and your body was swaying side to side

Losing your mind and body to the music felt good, but then Jamil entered the room when you were mid-dance. You would’ve stopped if it weren’t for him joining in, but not without a taunt

“What, too scared to dance with me? Come and show me what you’ve got, Yuu.”

You accepted his challenge and continued where you left off - the two of you twisted and turned and ended up on the floor lying on your backs once again, gasping for breath

The two of you laughed breathlessly. He then praised you and your dancing abilities and wondered why you never showed him how skilled you are

You shrugged, thinking it wasn’t a big deal, but then he put a hand on your shoulder and offered to have more dance-offs. You didn’t hesitate to agree

When dancing with him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, as if you were born to do this. And maybe, just maybe, you were born to meet such a wonderful person too.

Vil Schoenheit

You were a bit let down when you couldn’t actually participate as a dancer for the VDC but at the very least it allowed you to give yourself a bit more time to truly showcase your dancing to others

And hosting a training camp for the actual competitors isn’t too bad if it’s for your dorm and for something you’re passionate about

Ramshackle Dorm is lively, what with everyone there. Conflict was inevitable in this school but it did drive you crazy somewhat

One particular day, everyone was taking a break from Vil’s scrutinous training and you can feel the tension in the air

At some point, everyone left the ballroom. Only you remained seated on the floor, your back to the wall. You stared up at the ceiling and sighed. You couldn’t take this anymore

You got to your feet and simply started dancing, as quietly as you could. No music, nothing - you didn’t want to risk garnering attention by being noisy

It definitely served to alleviate some of your stress. You even smiled to yourself and at some points, fought the urge to laugh out of joy

The ballroom seemed different then. The images of your friends came into your mind - all their smiles, their frowns, the determined looks on their faces. You felt your movements growing more fluid at the thought of them

Once you’re done and panting, bent over your knees gasping for air, a loud clap reverberates in the room. Then another. Then a third. Then a figure emerges, their hands clasped

“What a pleasant surprise. You’re not bad at all. Though it’s a bit too late to recruit you, I surely hope you continue to hone that skill of yours.”

Did… did Vil Schoenheit just praise your dancing skills?

Let’s just say you took his advice to heart - it’s hard not to when it’s Vil Schoenheit himself

You also helped the others with some of your advice after the confidence boost and you’re happy to see their improvement. Seeing Vil satisfied also brought a smile to your face.

Rook Hunt

After the VDC, you found yourself more exhausted than usual by the events that occurred and you begged for a break from whatever deity is there in Twisted Wonderland. Dancing was the last thing on your mind

And for a while, that’s what you got - you were able to simply attend classes and watch your friends bicker with each other like a normal student. It was a well-needed break for everyone

Sometimes you’d chat for a bit with any familiar faces you run into and these days, you found yourself chilling by yourself in the courtyard

One day, you suddenly felt a longing to dance once more. And luckily for you, you had the courtyard all to yourself

It went from being some regular courtyard to your stage and the sun was your spotlight; you shone and you twinkled. You were like a star

And that was what you were told by the end of your performance, accompanied by applause from a singular person

“Très bien, Yuu… your performance has moved me to tears!”

Rook exclaims as he makes his way over to you; that certainly wasn’t your intention. You didn’t even think it was worth watching

But then Rook continues to comment on certain aspects of your performance, elaborating in very vivid detail. You’ve never felt so seen before

He would shower you with compliments, as if to say that you shouldn’t have a single doubt in your mind

And you hardly ever do after that since he very much threatened you to be kind to yourself or else

He would tell everyone about your wonderful skill (with your consent, of course), as if you’re his child who he’s been watching grow up over the years

He may be a bit loud about you at times but when you look over at him and see how proud he is of you, you only sigh fondly and hold back a chuckle.

Malleus Draconia

He doesn’t know a lot about the subject but he appreciates it as a form of art and expression of the people

And so you would tell him all about it while being careful to not let on that you’re one yourself which is surprisingly easier than you thought, considering how oblivious he is sometimes

He merely sees you as some sort of dance scholar and as if he doesn’t respect you a lot already, he definitely holds you in higher regard now

And somehow, that elevates to an even higher level when he suddenly finds you out

He was on his routinely walk around Ramshackle; it was a windy night, weather as pleasant as his conversations with you

Coincidentally, whilst his thoughts were on you, he spotted you in the backyard of your dorm with the ghosts and… hm? It’s brightly lit for once

Curious and wanting confirmation, he changed his route to suspiciously festive-looking Ramshackle instead

Meanwhile, you and Grim were dancing to some music the ghosts were playing for you. You all were having a simple party to forget your worries

The ghosts would comment on how you should stop outshining Grim so much, just to mess with Grim. But they had a point; you had a certain glimmer to you when you dance

Malleus saw that much when he reached your party. He stood within the frame of the backdoor, watching your every movement, entranced

After a few minutes did you notice him there, unmoving. Your steps trace their way to him instead. You extend a hand to him

“May I have this dance?”

And you may - the two of you danced, him slipping in flatteries in between moves. Maybe it was just you, but the party seemed to feel much more lively with him. No, not just the party; the whole world was.

Lilia Vanrouge

He knows a thing or two about dancing from all his adventures and he’d love to show you proof of it

So he does - he's definitely got the moves and you definitely want to show him some of your own… someday

You feel a little self-conscious about your own skills after his show but that doesn't stop you from working on your dancing. You're determined to make your skills worthy of Lilia’s attention!

Little did you know. It's futile to really hide anything from this sneaky bastard (affectionate)

You were on your way to class from Ramshackle with Grim and unfortunately for you, you had a little earworm stuck in your head that day

It started off as a skip, then two skips. By five skips, it turned into a full on dance. You felt alive, like you were a main character in a musical

Grim was making fun of you at first but then he started linking his arm with lampposts and swinging himself alongside you

Lilia was watching this all happen from afar, as one does. A student dancing their way to class is no everyday spectacle after all. And it's you too! All the more reason to play peeping tom

Just when you're about to reach the main building did he finally give you the jumpscare of a lifetime

“Why, you didn’t tell me what a wonderful dancer you are, my dear Yuu! I must admit, I feel quite offended.”

He was jesting of course - he was merely glad that he got to witness such a sight. And you’re glad that you’re not as unskilled as you thought you were

He tries his best not to boast your skills to others but you know he can never keep such hidden talent, well, hidden from his beloved Diasomnia family

You got the Diasomnia stamp of approval - not only that, but you’ve definitely impressed someone you hold dear.

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leonw4nter · 25 days

Text

The Dimming Star of a Formerly Worthy Show Dog

RE4R!Leon x F!Reader royal AU

To his mother and father, their princely son is simply checking on his subjects in person to assess the detrition of the plague in illness-struck towns and uphold the dignified and respectable image of the house of Condor for the hopeless masses to look up to. If one were to ask why the king and queen would not step a single foot out of their grand palace, they both feared that they would be tainted by the wrath of God that rained down like hellfire on the sinful masses– their fair skins swollen with black and oozing lumps, the healthy glow of their rosy cheeks taken away by the pallidness of contagion; they both very much preferred to be safe and secure in the comfort of their grandiose palace, wrapped in silks as they stayed away from the suffering below. Their son, the crown prince Leon, could not sit idly and stubbornly left the luxurious threshold of safety and clean air. He reasoned that he must see how the populace is doing in this time of pestilence, arguing that to see him would lift their weary spirits for it offered solace to know that the kingdom is still intact. He did not lie– that truly is his intention, ever the benevolent man he is, but he also wanted to look for you; the last he’s heard of you was from the palace’s dance instructor, somberly informing you that you moved to a town away to find a profitable alehouse to dance in.

“She does not feel the welcome of the palace,” he recalls the instructor saying as he looked out the window. “Most especially from the king and queen. Their gazes were always one of disrelishness when casted on her.”

“But I dearly welcome her,” Leon recalls responding as a deepening frown curled his lip downwards. “She has never done the king and queen wrong, hasn’t she? What is their motive for this animosity?”

The instructor beside him sighed, hands clasped behind him to rest at his lower back. “It is for the very reason that you dearly welcome her that they are contemptuous. She is a stellar dancer, yes– an excellent one at her craft, but she is not nobility. In this world, what are God-given gifts if one is not of the aristocracy?”

“All of them are radiant stars– her, her sisters. Their only fault is that the Lord planted these stars on the wrong sky, with the incorrect folk. Their light will not be marvelled in the manner that they deserve.” The instructor finishes.

Anger and earnest irritation brewed in the pits of his stomach, threatening to rise to his chest, and spill through the piercing and violent nature of emotionally-fueled language. His fists balled at his side, nostrils flared, as indignation dulled his will to adhere to princely decorum.

Not even the mask that covered the bottom half of his face could keep the stench of death at bay, the eastward bound wind worsening the putrid air. Death was everywhere– in the air, lined along the streets, at the mouth of rivers, in houses of stone and wood; corpses could be seen brought out of houses and tossed into carts before the carts would head to either the plague pits in churchyards or the mouth of the rivers. Distant cries and groans could be heard as well, dampening Leon’s spirits but he can’t stop now– he has to keep going, for you and for the people that need him. Mud squelched with each step he took, depressions in the ground trailing behind him as he walked further deeper into the settlement. Not even those with money and the firmest belief in the Lord were free, the body of a wealthy landlord being carried out for a burial as a priest mumbled prayers. He figured that it would be the least he could do for those that have already died to offer a prayer, a futile action yet one that brought comfort; he found it uncomfortable to think that those who were well-off in life were sent back home with services from the church, to lay in a nicely dug pit with a stone to remember them by yet the poor were tossed into a hole with no sign that these people ever lived, smiled, cried, and loved.

He passed by 3 dug holes and prayed 3 prayers each time: a prayer for firmer faith, guidance for the beloved departed, and protection for a friend before a long journey; if only he had brought his prayer beads, he would’ve prayed the rosary too. He walks along the grassy shore of the river, rocks crunching beneath his leather boots. River air was supposedly good for one’s health, said the physicians, for it brought clean air downstream with the flow of water; just like him, there were people flocking to walk alongside the moving water and breathe in some of the supposedly healthy air– children, girls with buckets to fetch some cleaning water, and mothers who were out for a stroll with their children. He recognizes a woman as he trails a distance behind her; her back is no longer upright and now has a slight curve, her hair tied into a short ponytail at the base of her skull. She appears to be carrying a weight concentrated to her right hip, which Leon realizes is a child. The way she walks is familiar yet also foreign to him, bringing flashes of the past to the forefront of his mind. He takes longer strides towards the woman, wanting to check up on her if she is really someone he once knew or if the weariness of the town is playing tricks on his mind already. Within a few steps he is an arm’s length away from her but she turns around before he can approach her and the sadness that seized him felt like a lightning bug getting trapped in a small, black box with one hole to let the light in. Seeing her felt like coming across a time-worn book, the lines on her eyes telling stories of endless struggles and dreams let loose; she looked far beyond 31, each graying strand of frizzy hair a marker of the trials that aged her beyond her time. The youthful sparkle of her eyes were now buried under the heavy cloak of sorrow, he noticed, as she peered at his face to try and remember who he was.

“Amanda,” Leon breathed in an airy voice. Her face lit up at seeing him, the unexpected presence of an old friend a balm to her marred soul.

“Leon,” she said back to him, stepping forward. “Oh, Leon. You have grown into a fine man. You tower over me now! Life has been kind to you, it seems.”

Leon grimaced slightly; if this is what has become of your sister, what fate has befallen you? “I have thought about you and your sisters, what you three have done upon leaving the palace.”

She sighed, a sad one, as she looked at the river where more bodies were being disposed of, opposite to your shoreline. “My hair has become streaked with gray because I spent most of my life worrying and fearing instead of dreaming. I am unhappy to tell you that the same has gone for my two other sisters. Years were endured rather than enjoyed,” she regretfully told him.

“Lucia,” Leon recalled. “I would also like to see her, before I see [name].”

Amanda fell silent, readjusting her position to carry her child a lot more properly. A hand coming up to cradle the base of his delicate skull.

“She had only 27 years when she passed this mortal coil,” she quietly said as she attempted to conceal the cracks of her voice. “Perhaps her body was far too weak to birth a child and thus failed her, physicians said that she had lost too much blood. This baby I carry now is hers, as I have decided to care for him in her stead. God grant her young soul eternal repose.”

Lucia had adored Leon when the sisters still danced regularly in the palace, always accompanying you in finding flowers to adorn Leons’ hair and armor with. She was the youngest among your trio and the fiercest; she did not stand for any prejudice and mistreatment to anyone she cared for deeply, disliked by some standoffish men of the court for her unlady-like decorum, an opinion Leon did not understand. He shed a single tear for her, reminiscing fond memories– memories of when he and her engaged in vulgar banter which resulted in Leon getting beatings, her keeping the palace dog company, and Leon timidly asking for advice in successfully courting you.

“What have you three lived through?” he faintly asks, eyes slightly glossy.

“The world demanded much too soon for three girls who only wanted to dance in gilded halls and feel the rhythm of strings and percussion lift us closer to heaven. Alas, we would have continued to dance until our legs could not and our strengths would fail us but the eyes of the king and queen are not purposed to see my sister with her love.”

Leon knew what she talked about, hanging down his head; he regrets that he did not fight tooth and nail to keep the sisters he has grown fond of growing up with, agonizing over the bitter ebb of love denied.

“Take me to [name]. I want to see her.”

“I am afraid I cannot do that.”

“Why not, Amanda?”

“I cannot let you do that, I cannot.”

“It would kill me swift if you continue to deny me to see [name] than any wrath of a pestilence. I beg and implore you, Amanda, I need to see [name].”

She looked at the blond in front of her, visibly growing more antsy and overwrought with unease. She sighed, growing weak at the possibility that this dignified prince would get on his knees and press his lips on the dirtied ground if it meant having to his love. “It would kill him swiftly if he heard the tenderness [name]’s voice possessed when she spoke of you rather than my denial of you seeing her”, she thought.

“[Name], she has it.” She said.

Leon asked what ‘it’ was, though that was done in an act of denial of the fact for he knew what ‘it’ is.

“She does not want anyone near her– not even I, she speaks to me through her boarded window. She fears that I and the young one will catch it too.”

“Where is she?” Leon asks, the sensation of the prick of tears in his eyes letting itself be known.

“She won’t want to see you.”

“I want to see her. Give me directions and I will walk to where she is, swim if need be.”

And so she told him where she lived, heart heavy as she watched the stubbornly persistent and brave prince make a mad dash to the house she lived in, praying to God that He listen to humankind just this once to provide Leon with the bravery in his heart that he so needed.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The portion of town where you lived in was where all the sick were placed in order to properly separate those who were well, unwell, and dying. Doctors went in and out of houses with their beaked masks and black cloaks, carrying bags of medicinal implements and prayer booklets; they performed the rites for the religious dying because no priest was willing to, so they offered reprieve in a form different from the medicines they typically offered. Doors were marked and plastered with signs cautioning visitors to take measured decisions to avoid catching the plague themselves yet the fear of catching the plague did not faze him in the slightest bit, determined to soothe you with his presence and try to initiate conversation to put up the illusion that all is well and death does not surround them like a bird eager for a worm. Leon lifts his mask higher up his face, walking down the path that led to the house you were in. He did his best to not linger too much on the faint prayers, crying, and groaning he heard as he passed by other houses, growing increasingly overwhelmed with a potent melancholy. After some time, he gets to your house and knocks at the door then waits until you acknowledge the knocks.

“Amanda…?” he hears your weak voice call out, a rattling tone beneath your shrill voice. If he didn’t know that was you, he wouldn’t have recognized it.

“It’s Leon,” he says as he knocks again but this time a little louder. “Your Leon.”

“Leon…?” you ask from behind the door, trying to figure out if this is delirium that came with the plague or if it really is your Leon. “Amanda…?” you weakly call out once again.

“No, it’s not Amanda. It’s Leon,” he patiently repeats in a gentle tone as he picks up on the uncertainty in your infirm voice.

“You mustn’t… come in…,” you say as you try to sit up, which proves to be a Herculean task for you. “I am… terribly… ill.”

“No, I insist I see you [name]. My body is strong and my mind is sound, I do not fear neither illness nor death because my true fear resides in the possibility of never seeing you again. Please, open the door.”

You scoff to yourself before you cough once more, mustering what little strength your body has left to arise from your bed and get up to open the door. The door was only a few steps away from you yet the distance felt longer, hobbling along on unstable and weakened feet to reach the rusting metal handle and finally see your love after 6 long years. You open the door and see Leon, the lower half of his face concealed with a white cloth; his hair still remained the same flaxen color, albeit his strands have grown a little longer for they now veiled his rosy ears; his eyes have become more deep-set yet his blue irises still retained their piercing gaze, if not more intensely.

“Oh, [Name].”

He takes your hand, only holding on to the scarred tips of your finger as he tries to stave off the overwhelming desire to kiss you again like he did 6 years past. Your knee begins to fail you, brought down to the ground by weakness and Leon rushes to meet you at your level, worry furrowing his face.

“Let me carry you,” he says as he begins to scoop you into his chest and stands up to full height, walking to your bed. You nod as you shut your eyes, ashamed that he had to see you in this undesirable state with your hair strewn and sticking to your sweat-drenched forehead with lumps all around your neck, clavicle, and arms.

“Surely you must fear illness in one way or another,” you quietly whisper to him as he lays you down. “Does your stomach not churn when you see the work of contagion upon my body and grow afraid that this may happen to you?”

“There is a slight fear that threatens to paralyze me, one that lingers at the back of my mind and it stays there, for a more powerful fear of leaving you alone settles at the forefront.”

He gently lays you down, bringing your blanket up to your chest and taking a handkerchief from a pocket in his pants and using it to wipe the accumulating sweat on your body.

“Thank you,” your voice comes out in a shrill and raspy whisper and Leon simply nods, giving you a closed smile as he settles right at your bedside and tucks the handkerchief back to his pocket.

“How have you been, [Name]?” he asks, beginning the conversation.

“Swell,” you respond with a strained smile. “All soft and easy… for a… little… while.”

“I understand why you and your sisters chose to leave the palace, it can be… suffocating in there but I am quite baffled as to why you never wrote to me. Did you not love me enough or did I love you too much that it suffocated you in the same manner that life in the palace did?”

“I… love you… in ardent devotion… far greater than… the most devout… Catholic and their worship… of God, a force too… great that it could… divide. I very much… wanted to see you, talk to you… but my presence and involvement in your life… shall blight your image and your family’s regality.”

“[Name], forget about my family– they are far too occupied with image and I am far too occupied with you. I would abdicate for you, nevermind the ire of my mother or father towards me for all that matters is you.”

“You know… how they are–” you are interrupted by a cough, sitting up to be able to breathe a lot better with Leon gently patting your dampened back. “T-thank you, sweetheart. As I was… saying, they’ll think… that I have bewitched you… rendered you stupid…”

“You have bewitched me, that they have gotten right, but I care not for what they think– only both of us know what we have.”

You nod weakly and muster up the strength to smile up at him through glossy eyes as his hand strokes your hair, gently patting you without the fear of contracting the disease. A comfortable silence befalls the small house, with Leon occasionally humming some tunes and softly reassuring you: “all is well, all is well”.

“I will find medicine for you,” Leon breaks the silence. “My father has a cousin who has come down with the illness but has recovered, he took medicine from the far East. Just wait until I get back very soon, can you do that for me sweetheart?”

“Medicine?” you rasp almost noiselessly. “No, no… it is far too… precious to be… used… on me.”

“No, [Name]. Please, let me save you. You have saved me from an emptying sadness all those years past now it is my turn to save you so do let me.”

There is not much that you can do as your love is steadfast in finding this famed herbal medicine from the farthest east there is. You are grateful for his efforts and stay silent instead, listening to him ramble on and talk endlessly while he tenderly enveloped your pale hand in his as if you were both young adults once more.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“How is the town doing, son?” His mother asks sternly as she drops a sugar cube into her steaming cup of tea.

“Morale is down, there is death everywhere.” He coldly responds, gaze distant. “This malady is far worse than we thought– plague physicians and prayers alone are not enough to stem the progression of this disease. We must step in, after all, we have resources–”

“Resources that we will use to treat your father’s cousin. It is at our family’s disposal so do not even think that we will squander away what meager medicines there are. Perhaps it is the fate of those sheep-biting scuts that God has stricken them down with His wrath and our family dare not to interrupt His will upon them.”

“Mother!” He exclaims, slamming a heavy hand down the table. Tea sloshes around in its cups and pots, small droplets of a burnt red shade staining the table cloth. “How dare you invoke the wrath of God as justification for your selfishness and moral cowardice! It is extremely abhorrent of you to withhold aid from those who need us most, your arrogance in deciding who is to live and who is to perish is nothing short of blasphemy!”

She sips her tea silently, lips softly touching the teacup as her eyes look on at the variety of roses in the garden. After taking a sip, she presses her lips together and sets the cup back down to its plate.

“Your anger is coming from somewhere,” she observes, returning the iciness back to her son. “Have you gone stupid from the dancer again, Leon?”

“That is none of your business.” He seethes, glaring.

“You dare call me ‘abhorrent’ for putting our family first when deep down, you want the medicine to give to her specifically.”

“I am the crown prince of the people– to her, most of all. I value their lives more than I do mine.”

“You truly have gone stupid because of some wench, Leon, this is unprincely of you to the superlative level. You are willing to lay down money on the possibility that she is to live? How foolish– did you not realize that the buboes of this plague leaves unsightly scars? You will grow to dislike her–”

“I have carried her ill-stricken form in my arms and fondly patted her hair with these hands. I cannot find it in me to dislike her nor do I wish to, it is simply impossible.”

“Leon–”

“I will go back to the town after 3 evenings with medicine. I will crawl back, if need be, and that is final.”

“Very well, then.”

Leon is surprised that his mother says nothing and returns to calmly sipping tea, yet he sees that her knuckles have gone pale so he stays alert, knowing that she could very well be scheming.

“I shall go talk with father now.”

He turns around and marches back to the inside of the palace, walking to the study of his father the king.

His father was just as apprehensive as his mother, incredibly unwilling to let Leon have even a single flake of the medicine. This resulted in screaming and threats of abdication and disowning, as an argument between two stubborn men of the house would usually do. Leon, though unwilling, resorted to a compromise: he would obtain the medicinal ingredients and produce them himself with the assistance of a scholar educated in the art of healing. This process would take long, for it required all ingredients to be finely ground into powder in order to be packed into a ball easy to swallow for the driest of throats. His parents grumbled and let him have his way but not before warning him that this would be an arduous undertaking, a Herculean effort all for a woman who is due her time soon. Right away, he sent his right hand men and advisers to seek out any available merchant who was willing to enter their kingdom. He struggled with the efforts, most of them bearing no fruit, but refused to appear bothered or intimidated by the pressure of his situation, not wanting to prove the king and queen right. Soon, he acquired several roots and herbs needed and got to work, seeking the guidance and knowledge of apothecaries and scholars knowledgeable on healing. The sun has awoken and slept but Leon did not sleep when the sun did, keeping the moon company as he toiled and studied, perfecting the required ratio to maximize the improvement of his condition. He also read up on balms and salves to soothe and reduce the scarring of the buboes, forgetting to partake in meals and hydrate in his haste.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He sat on his horse, a female Palfrey with an ink-dark glossy coat, and headed for your town, urging her to go faster with the promise of apples and sugar cubes to spur her on. On his leather satchel was some fruit and in a smaller pouch, were the medicines he needed. Before packing it in his pouch, he has already had it reviewed by trusted advisers. He pushed down his confidence, not wanting to grow certain when he hasn’t distributed it yet. Upon spotting the first few houses in the distance, he softly encouraged his Palfrey to go on faster, just a little more.

“Come on, beauty, you can go faster– please,” he urged her.

Soon he arrives, dismounting from his steed, and spotting a few doctors exiting and entering houses. He calls one over and does not let them kneel down, informing them of what he brings.

“These, these medicines. I have crafted them a few days back, but they are still of quality, as my tutors have said. They are well-versed in healing so I trust their judgement,” he says. “I have obtained ingredients and herbs from trusted merchants in the far east, where the herbs are in abundance and the plague has not reached them yet.”

The plague doctor takes one of the tablets and lifts his avian mask, bringing the tablet near his nostril and takes several precautionary sniffs and observations. He nods, informing Leon that he will provide this to a patient of his and check back with him to note improvements in condition. Leon meets more of the cloaked doctors, advising them and repeating the same things he said. His confidence grows and he is certain, speeding past other houses to get to yours. He arrives there and knocks on your house, vigorous clacks against the wooden door.

“[Name]? It is your Leon, I am here.” He says a little louder, so he may be heard from the inside.

“Leon?” A weak female voice responds, but it is not yours. He stays silent, trying to give this voice a name.

“Who is inside?” He asks. “I have come to visit [Name], I bear medicine that may help her.”

He hears soft steps approaching the door, growing increasingly hyper in his eagerness to see you. The door finally opens but he is met with Amanda’s face instead.

“Where is my [Name]?” He asks, trying to see over her shoulder.

Amanda appears as if she is wearing a veil, a very thin one for if Leon dared to peer into her gaze, he might know what rocked his love’s sister. She steps aside and quietly allows Leon entry, the man pacing quickly to your bedside to see you. You look far worse than you did days ago when he just visited, the lumps on your neck scarily large that Leon felt weak. Your eyes were closed yet you were still breathing, albeit very shallowly and hoarsely, each intake of air marked with a low rattle in your chest. You lift a hand slightly from your abdomen where it rested and point a finger at Leon, to which he responds by identifying himself.

“Yes, it is your Leon. The Leon who you loved at 21,” he softly says. “Worry not, my dear, I have medicine in my pouch.”

Amanda steps beside him and places a hand on his shoulder and he feels her hand shake so he turns around and his gaze is met with glassy eyes.

“[Name] has just received her final rites, there is a man nearby with dead carts waiting for her,” she sadly says. “She is quite fortunate that she has received blessings, most of the sick here do not for the reverends are quite apprehensive.”

Her voice cracks and she stops speaking because she knows that her voice will crawl out in cracks and shakiness. Leon can only stay silent and appear strong yet his soul was crumbling away, turning into dust being blown away by a cold wind.

“She hasn’t much, has she?” he asks silently as he pats back the matted hair on your head, trying to offer you some semblance of comfort.

“Yes,” your sister responds. “She exhausted her throat screaming your name, she thought you’d been here with her as she was growing more delirious with fever. I could hear her sing the songs you taught her– ‘Dearest Sight of My Heart’ and ‘Greensleeves’.”

“So she has been seeing visions of me when in reality I am not near?” he asks.

“Yes, she has. And for that moment, she looked quite… jovial. Even the vision of you soothed her for a moment and I did not wish to whisk away what little comfort she had.”

You were asleep now, a finger inched near Leon’s. The rattling was still low in your chest yet your intakes of breath were now more shallow, more rapid, as if you were fighting some force and losing.

Leon curled his finger around yours yet you gently withdrew it. Instead, your arms were stretched out to the side like how it was when you danced. Your fingers were spaced out, gently fluttering as much as you could as your arms were swaying. He could see your feet twitch as well, along to some music only you could hear. This routine is familiar with Leon, the routine he loved to see you dance in gilded halls and grand banquets. He hummed the tune of the ballad, Amanda joining him, as he watched you slowly begin to grow more impassioned with whatever movements you could make. You opened your eyes and you were back in the grand ballroom in beautiful drapes and your hair in wavy tendrils above your head, pinned in place with a jewel-encrusted hairpin. Amanda looked youthful again, and so did Lucia– she was a maiden once again. You were spinning and jumping in the air, arms stretched above you as you felt the heavens on your fingertips. Your movements accompanied the lute and shawms, floating from one corner of the room to another. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon– soft, bright-eyed, and all smiles. He’s 21 again, just like you are, and he runs up to you to hug you.

“Leon!” you squeal when he hugs you even tighter, acting like a second corset, as he lifts you off the ground. “I am still rehearsing, surely it cannot be as great as you regard it to be!”

He places you back down on your feet and cups your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours to capture it in a silken kiss. You hear your sisters cheer and squeal in the back, prompting a smirk to widen on your lips.

“You discredit yourself for your artistic prowess, my [Name]. You are my god and I am sure I exist for the sole purpose of worshipping your grace.”

“Oh, stop it Leon. What do you want from me?” you tease as he peppers your cheeks in kisses.

“You,” he responds. “And that is all I ask. The banquet is yet to begin and our guests have not completed attendance yet so may I take you to the gardens?”

You look behind your sisters, who urge you on. You nod and Leon chuckles, bowing to your sisters before he takes you by the hand and leads you out to where it is bright.

Leon carries you in his arms with a tearful Amanda trailing closely behind him, her nephew asleep on her shoulder. You have fallen into the slumber with no end so he carries you to where you will be laid to rest properly instead of letting the cart take you away and toss you into a pit with many others. He sheds tears, albeit silently, as he lowers you. He and your sister fix your hair away from your face and pose your hands to appear as if you were praying, fingers entwined before dirt conceals you from the upper world to finally let your soul freely prance and leap around in fields of eternal repose where you greet your second-eldest sister and patiently wait for the loved ones who you’ve left behind.

NOTE - This fic has been marinating in my docs for like a month bc I've been fighting off writer's block and I'm also starting to grow busy bc I've already got like 5 projects assigned by the first week of the academic year so there's a chance that this fic is like... wonky which I understand tbh 😭 I have some WIPs waiting to be finished, some of them are requests so for the people who requested like months ago yk... dw I'm getting around to working on it 😭😭 Also yk that one bongo remix of that one Coldplay song? I don't know why but I find it so funny like it's so overstimulating, I just have to laugh 😭😭😭 ALSO I GOT IN IN MY SCHOOL'S BOOK CLUB SIUEHSH!!!@!$#% Anyway, thanks for reading my fics!! I appreciate it a lot!! I <3 YOUUU!!!!!!

The star dividers were made by @adornedwithlight , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 2 months

Text

Part II

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: panic attacks (reader is tormented soul🤷)

I'll just drop it here.

Also I felt really bad for saying no to so many nice persons (I really admire the inner power of people who can do that so easily and without regrets), so there's going to be a taglist 🫥

Lovely divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part I | Part III

You were sitting at the table, eyes downcast, cheeks slightly pink. Everyone around you was celebrating your wedding, but you hardly paid attention to it. Your thoughts were swirling around the warm hand on your lap, holding yours so firmly it almost hurt, thumb drawing small circles on your skin. What could it mean? You'd never seen this kind of behaviour in Hewn city. Public, lewd touches maybe, but secret, intimate ones? Was it a good sign? Or bad one?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when his hand suddenly withdrew. You didn't dare to look at him though. In a second, air little bit cooled down and a silky night-kissed voice with a pinch of arrogance spoke from your left.

"Nice party, Eris."

You immediately recognized High Lord of Night. Feeling the urge to stand up and bow as you would do in Hewn city, you pushed against the chair, but it didn't move even an inch. Eris' hand was now on an armrest of your chair, holding it at place.

"What did you expect? It's my wedding day. I hoped to please my wife," he said, his voice dangerously low, balancing between politeness and sharpness of displeasure.

"Thank you, my lord," you whispered with bowed head. The pressure of powers of these two males was almost unbearable, suffocating you.

"Hmm," it seemed that High Lord of Night smirked. "I hoped that I could have a word with your wife, if it isn't too much to ask for."

"Whatever you want to tell her, you can do so here and now," Eris retorted, cold rage seeping from every word.

"C'mon," Rhysand laughed amusedly. "It only takes a minute and you'll have her back. I won't hurt her, you have my word."

Eris inhaled sharply, considering it. Then he just waved his hand and went back to watching the dancers.

"Here, let me help you," High Lord of Night offered you his arm, helping you to stand up. Then he silently led you to the ceiling-to-floor windows and out on the terrace. He let go of your hand and leaning against the railing looked up at the night sky.

"Stars are so different here, aren't they," he sighed softly.

You quickly took a look at twinkling lights that illuminated the terrace with a cool glow. It was the first time you'd ever seen the night sky and you'd like to keep watching that mesmerising beauty for the rest of your life, but.. your gaze sank down to the floor.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I'm afraid that I have nothing to compare it with."

You could feel his piercing gaze to move to you then and you shivered under its weight.

"Please, call me Rhysand," his voice was kind, nothing like the cold, merciless one he used to address crowd in your hometown.

You swallowed hard. "My lord, I couldn't-"

He softly interrupted you. "If it makes you feel better, you can call me by my name only when we are alone. Like now."

Who you were to oppose the High Lord. "As you wish, my l-.. Rhysand," you curtsied.

"Ah, and no bowing, dear. I don't need such formalities. After all you aren't my subject anymore. We're equal. That's why I want you to treat me like that. What's your name?"

You again swallowed, dread eating up on you. Equal to High Lords. What a crazy thing to think. You could never be more than a servant, a submissive mute wife who would speak up only with husband's approval.

"My name is Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated, tasting it. "Lovely name. How old are you, Y/N?"

"I-I'm 19."

He was silent for a moment. Feeling uncomfortable with his eyes trained on you, you shifted weight slightly, your gaze still focused on the pattern of tiles at his feet.

"Tell me, my dear, how do you feel about this? About the marriage?"

"I-" You started to sweat. What should you say? What did he want to hear?

"Don't be scared. You can be honest with me. I won't hurt you no matter what you say," his voice was so soft that you believed him.

"I'm just doing as I was told.." you stuttered.

"I thought so," he said sadly. "I guess that you've never met him before, right? Now that you've seen him up close, do you at least like him?"

"Eris," he added when you didn't respond right away.

"l-I'm not sure, my l-" Your heart was beating in your ears so fast. "I mean, he's quite good looking, but I'm-.. I don't know him well."

You felt like fainting any minute now, your vision blurring. If your husband overheard this conversation, he would certainly get so angry. Under no circumstances should a wife speak ill of her husband. Not even slightly. That was the very first rule you were taught.

"It's okay, my dear," in a blink of eye High Lord of Night was at your side, one hand supporting you, the other one gently rubbing on your back. "Just breathe. Deep breaths, yeah? Nobody's going to find out about what you said here. Don't worry."

Slowly you calmed down. Only once your heart slowed down, his hands moved to your face, lifting it up so he could look into your eyes. You gaped at him in surprise. Remembering the manners, you tried to avert your eyes to the side just above his shoulder as it was expected. However, he wouldn't let you, forcing your gaze back to his face with sad smile.

"Now listen to me carefully, dear Y/N. This isn't Hewn city. Whatever you experienced there, it's over now. You certainly heard all kinds of rumours about Eris and I'm not going to lie to you and say that that isn't true because it is. However, it doesn't mean that he'll be cruel to you too. If he was after all, you don't have to put up with it. If he ever hurts you, just let me know and I'll sent someone to get you to safety. Will you remember that?"

Whole galaxies danced in those violet-blue eyes that searched yours, genuine care seeping from each of his words. You quietly nodded, unable to find your voice.

"Good girl," he really smiled then. That kind grin completely changed his expression. If he was handsome before, now he was breathtaking. "I really hope you'll find your happiness here."

With that he stepped back and his hands casually slipped into the pockets of trousers. He once again looked up at the night sky.

"Autumn is beautiful season. I'm sure that you'll like it once you settle down enough to start to explore your new home. Tonight it's quite cold. Let's get you back inside. Eris gets mad if you catch cold because of me."

Offering you his arm, he escorted you back and to your seat. As soon as he noticed you, Eris stood up to hold a chair for you, his eyes narrowed at Rhysand.

"Unharmed. Just as I promised," Rhysand winked at him. Then he took your hand and placed a kiss on its back. "Be happy, dear Y/N."

"Thank you, my lord," you whispered, bowed to him and sat down. With a one-sided grin Rhysand spun on his heel and headed to his mate who was currently talking with some beautiful lady near to the dance floor.

Your husband slid into his seat, his gaze burning holes into Rhysand's back. He was quite displeased. You felt it even without looking up at him. Once you were again alone his hand found yours under the table.

"You are freezing cold," he murmured and his skin heated with magic. The warmth seeped into your brittle hands. For a moment your tension melted like a snow with the touch of his long fingers.

In contrast to the warm touch, when he spoke again, his voice was so cold and angry that you shivered. "What did he want?"

Breath caught in your throat, heart skipped few beats as all blood left your face.

"My lord," you said in small trembling voice, trying to swallow the lump that rose in your throat.

Eris cast a sidelong glance at you, his eyes narrowing. He said nothing, waiting for your answer.

"He asked me," you stammered, "about the wedding. A-and offered me help.."

"Help?" His fingers drummed impatiently on the table and then clenched into fist.

"Yes, my lord."

"What kind of help?"

You slightly cringed in your seat.

"T-to run away a-and shelter."

His hand squeezed your fingers firmer and you prepared for pain. Then he suddenly let go and started to slowly retreat back to his personal space. All the warmth left with him.

"And," he spoke quietly and slowly, "do you want to go with him?"

You panicked, your breath becoming labored. When your father spoke like this, it always meant the worst punishment. You knew what to expect from him, what kind of torment, but this male? You had no idea what he would do to you. Would he just beat you up? Or would he even burn you? Dozens of possibilities flashed through your mind.

"Do you want to go with him?" he repeated his question when it took you too long to answer.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of your skirt, but even that couldn't stop the tremor.

"N-n-no, my lord, n-never."

The tears began gathering behind your closed eyelids. You waited for the punishment. His fingers lightly touched the back of your hand, hesitantly, slowly moving forward until both of your hands were once again in his warm grip. He lightly squeezed them.

You heaved shakily. Opening eyes, you blinked away tears and gazed at your connected hands on your lap. His thumb was gently rubbing your knuckles now. It was.. comforting.

It was unbelievable. He did nothing to you, only held your hand. In disbelieve you looked up at his profile. He was again watching the dancing couples, his expression unreadable. After a while he turned to you with a tight smile. His eyes were soft and somehow sad when they met yours.

"I'd let you go, if you said that you wanted to."

The tears were back, stinging your eyes, but for the different reason now. Would he really let you go? Just like that?

Something sparked in your chest and hope filled your heart. Rhysand's words echoed in your mind: 'it doesn't mean that he'll be cruel to you'. You prayed to the Mother that it was true.

You shook your head decisively. "I don't want to," you said.

The corners of his mouth turned up for a second in a hardly there smile. As if he just reminded himself where he was, your husband broke the gaze, turning back to dancers and the unreadable mask slid back to his face with almost audible click.

You were breathless. His amber eyes. They engraved straight into your soul. For that short moment you saw flames burning in them, wild and sensual, playful and lustful but never hurtful.

Without knowing what you were doing, you freed one hand and placed it on his. The movements of his thumb stilled, whole his body tensed. You turned your other hand in his grip palm up, your fingers timidly intertwined with his. Out of the corner of his eye, he quickly looked down on your hands and then up at your face. With a small smile he relaxed in his chair. His fingers clenched, holding you firmly while thumb danced over your skin in rhythmic motion that matched the music.

The party went on for another three hours, some of the guests were already so drunken that servants had to help them into their seats. No one could leave before the newly married couple. It was around the midnight and you were so tired. It was a long and tiring day for you and it was starting to take its toll. Enveloped in pleasant warmth, your eyelids grew too heavy and it was getting more and more harder to fight the sleep.

Suddenly Eris's hand slipped from between yours and he called for servant with a small gesture. The boy immediately ran to him and leaned closer. Your husband told him something and boy disappeared. Not even a minute after that two maids appeared and approached you. They stopped to bow and one of them stepped closer to whisper to your ear.

"Please, follow us, my lady."

Fully awake now, you looked at Eris in silent question, but he only nodded imperceptibly. Your eyes flew to your father who gave you a scary look. The message was clear: if you messed this up, you would regret it.

It was time for the last part to conclude and seal the deal for good.

The marriage consummation.

A lump rose in your throat, cold sweat running down your spine. Mother told you what to expect, they taught you what to do to please your husband, but it didn't mean you were ready for that or that you wanted it. Your husband was handsome and his behaviour toward you was nice and a complete surprise so far, but still he was a stranger.

Whether you wanted or not, you had to do this.

Quietly accepting your fate, you stood up and on unstable legs followed the maids. As you were getting away from the ballroom, the music gradually died down until you were walking through completely silent part of the castle. The winding hallways were dimly lit and empty, red carpet muffled the footsteps. Here and there you noticed a huge painting or some shiny exhibited armor or statue. It was hard to say how far it was to your destination, but your heart was beating harder and faster with every step you took nonetheless.

Maids finally stopped before a tall oak double doors, as far as you could see the only one in this hallway. One of them opened it, the other one waited until you went in and then closed the doors behind.

You found yourself in some private sitting room. Fae lights dimly illuminated the huge finely decorated space in warm light brown, gold and beige colours. The windows were covered with heavy curtains, small fire crackled in a hearth in the corner of the room. There was smaller dinning table near the windows and set of sofas and armchairs with small pillows in autumn colours around the hearth. Bookshelves were full of books, soft looking carpet on the floor. It was cozy.

On each side of the room, there were identical double doors. Maids headed to the one on the left and opened it widely. With heavy heart to followed them into the bedroom with a massive bed that dominated to the room. Except of the bed there were also two ottomans and coffee table, vanity, mirror, some drawers and another doors that probably led to walk-in closet and bathroom. You could love it if only it wasn't a place for certain act you weren't ready for.

You swallowed hard, your eyes glued to that monstrous bed. Maids disappeared behind one of the doors and soon you heard sounds of running water from there. They were running around, preparing everything necessary, giving you a moment to breathe through the panic creeping on you. Then they came back to you. Without a word they helped you to free yourself from the heavy dress and corset.

Once in the bathtub they conscientiously washed every part of your body, massaging some nice smelling bath oils into your skin. After that they wrapped you in a soft towel and ushered you back to the bedroom to the vanity where they took care of your hair and helped you into the nightgown. They worked carefully but fast.

When they left, you looked in the mirror. The nightgown was made of fine, almost transparent fabric that hugged your body, leaving just little to imagination. You were on the verge of crying.

Internally panicking you sat down on one of ottomans because good wife should never go to bed before her husband and repeating to yourself all you were taught about the act, you waited.

And you waited and waited until you fell asleep.

Taglist: @nocasdatsgay @b0xerdancer @lilah-asteria @talesofadragon @marvelbros-oneshots @acourtofbatboydreams @li0nh34rt

#eris fanfic #eris fic #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #ghost of love #gol #sarah j maas #acotar fanfiction #acotar #high lord of autumn #autumn court #eris vanserra x reader

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elysiumcircusif · 4 months

Text

18+, content warnings for horror, fear and death.

Come One! Come All!

When the lady of summer graces the town of Dusklight, she brings a plethora of fun with her in the form of a circus known as "Elysium".

The residents of Dusklight can be seen spending their leisurely summer days in this dome of fun.

There are all the rides one can dream of! Rollercoasters, carousels, ferris wheel, hall of mirrors, fun house, house of horrors, teacups, you name it, Elysium's got it!

But of course, our circus won't be complete without its marvelous cast!

Let me introduce you to them:

First up, we have, drumroll please!

THE RINGMASTER! The runner of the show and the captain of our vessel. The ringmaster will ensure your safety but also guarantee your fun at Elysium. Keeping you entertained is their first and foremost duty. For I exist only for your pleasure, I will make sure you walk out thoroughly entertained.

Next, please give it up for, drumroll again please!

THE CONTORTIONIST! Watch in awe as his body defies the laws of gravity. He moves like he doesn't have a single bone in his body. Though some find him a bit strange and unnerving it's all hearsay. He will have your mind swirling with his moves. Watch me, watch me, are you getting confused? Are you getting sleepy?

Moving on, we have, keep the drums coming!

THE DANCERS! Please have a look at our enchanting triplets. Their dances are mesmerising stories of tragedies. As they dance in unison, the stories become more captivating to watch. They will immerse you in their performance. You won't regret buying a ticket to a show of our trio. Hold on dear brother, we might just make it out of here. Hold on dear sister we will see the sunlight soon.

And of course what circus is complete without- come on guys, I need the drum roll:

THE CLOWNS! There's two of them in Elysium. One of our clowns has his face painted to resemble a smile and the other has a permanent painted frown. Watch their skits to feel your belly twist with laughter! or perhaps it is nervousness that you feel in the pit of your stomach?

Let's keep the introductions going! More drumroll! Let's go and meet:

THE MIME A.K.A THE DOLL! Her face is made of porcelain. She'll entertain you silently with her gestures. Wrapped in a blue silk frock, her eyes the color of the sky at dawn, she is a beauty to gaze at. When she is not performing, she can be seen trying to get out of an invisible cage. Just another one of her gimmicks, I am sure.

And how can we forget the- drumroll!

THE FORTUNE TELLER! Hey there beautiful maiden, want to get your fortune told? Look no further! Elysium has a fortune teller at hand. Our old man is covered in a veil but his eyes are clearly visible. His eyes seem, sad and hollow somehow. He does not beat around the bush. Tell me oh wise man, what makes you so sad?

We are almost done with our cast, another drumroll, for-

THE TRAPEZE ARTISTS! Watch the young couple express their love to one another as they fly in the air. Stories of their love, romance and hardships all bottled into a trapeze performance are sure to catch your attention! Will we ever meet again my darling? Will I ever hear your sweet voice again?

And last but certainly not the least, ending drumroll please! Elysium couldn't function without:

THE RIDE OPERATORS AND THE FOOD STALL MANAGERS! They are the heart and soul of Elysium. Without them, we might as well close the circus! Though they don't speak much, they ensure that every craving you have is satisfied. Surely they don't believe that we don't know anything?

And that folks, completes the Elysium cast introduction! Thank you for your time and we hope to see you in Elysium this summer.

DEMO: SOON || PORTRAITS: TBA || KOFI || THE OTHER CAST♡♡♡(ROs) || ELYSIUM CIRCUS PLAYLIST

#elysium #elysium circus #elysium circus if #interactive fiction #IF #IF intro #wip #work in progress #interactive game #horror #drama #up and coming #interactive fiction introduction #interactive fiction intro #writers on tumblr #interactive fiction author

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nqmonarch · 3 months

Text

Just read a sad Jing Yuan fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/49340614) for those curious and now I need to write Jing Yuan.

Kind of a continuation of previous fic about self aware Jing Yuan but you can read this without having previously read that.

You felt rather uncomfortable, as if you were always being watched in the world of Honkai Star Rail. You hadn't meant to come here, but it wasn't like there was much left for you in the real world. You'd lost everyone too, just like your favorite character. Speaking of Jing Yuan you'd yet to run into him.

It was strange, you belonged neither to the skies nor land as you found yourself dashing between the stars glancing upon aeons but rushing away before they ever noticed you. They were even more terrifying in person. You'd caught a glimpse of Nanook leading the antimatter legion, into an attack on Herta's Space Ship. The game couldn't even begin to showcase how terrifying he was, with lava flowing out of every crevice in his body and eyes that only knew pain. You felt like you couldn't sleep for a while after that, and ever since you'd come to this world you hadn't been able to sleep. The only positive side of the incident was that you knew where you were relative to time.

When you'd spent too much time dawdling in the stars, out of exasperation you managed to take a more human form once and ended up falling down onto a strange planet. But you immediately fled when people began to stare at you, and you easily found yourself above their planet again. You didn't know what you were doing but maybe you were starting to get the hang of it.

You dipped between planets and ships, treating space as water that you could glide through. Occasionally you'd want to rest and fall down to those planets and ships in the form of a shooting star, taking a more human form once you hit the surface.

It lead to some awkward situations as you weren't sure how to land. Once you crash-landed in a hotel with a teal pool in the middle, in the pool was a strange gray haired individual with wings on his head. You shot out of there moments later, briefly apologizing for damaging the property. Other times you'd land in the middle of nowhere, an unending field, a forest with trees so tall you couldn't see the sky, or a snowy landscape. You were sure that you'd visited Jarilo-VI with the last one. Eventually you got good enough at visiting planets that you wouldn't take form until you hit what was considered the ground there, you were still working on being able to choose where you land though.

You'd been floating about for a week or two, with little stars, planets, or ships in sight. It was as if you were in a dead zone. But you eventually came across something, a long pale green ship that moved leisurely throughout the skies. Bored, and tired of gliding through space you did something you normally didn't do and fell down to the ship. You didn't normally visit ships since every part of them were populated and you randomly appearing was sure to cause some commotion. But at this point you couldn't care less.

You felt your body phase through the ship's exterior, and its artificial sky until you landed on some grass. You landed rather gracefully, especially considering that when you started landing on planets you'd collapse to the ground in a ball. Now, you touched down on them like a dancer, pointed feet reaching out to the grass and letting you hop out of the sky.

It was a rather sophisticated ship, few sought to replicate what life was like on planets, few tried to cultivate and improve life. The first thing you did was check for any onlookers, there was no one in front of you, or to your left, or right but when you turned around, you saw one singular figure.

His shoulders were slightly slouched, his head was slightly downward. Disheveled bangs covered golden eyes which didn't glow with the confidence of a lion, or the love of the sun, but instead were dull with the sorrow of a man who has seen his life fall apart in his hands and has had to build it back up piece by piece. He didn't have his signature mischievous smile which you'd always seen in the game. And you were aware of how you'd accidentally intruding upon Jing Yuan's alone time, his defenses, completely worn down and tired, finally slipping off his face.

But when he looked at you his lips opened, but didn't speak, instead remaining slightly ajar. His head tilted up as his eyes locked onto you. You'd interrupted him, but he didn't seem upset, and a fake smile didn't float to his face. He was disbelieving.

Jing Yuan, unbeknownst to you, had seen the beauties of his past truly fall apart today. He'd seen Jingliu fight Blade, and Dan Heng was aloof to it all. Jing Yuan was the only one affected. The only one who still remembered it all, who held the burden of the whole truth. Perhaps, he was the only one who still loved the others. But that love was turned against him-- like stained glass shattering and sinking into his skin, waiting there to be pushed in further whenever he remembered the High Cloud Quintet.

But then there was you, and he knew you. He didn't know how you looked, how you sounded, he was dimly aware of how you felt through the barriers that the world had constructed. Your hand on his head, out of comfort, had felt so warm. In that dream shared between you both, when you'd appeared so blurry in his mind but reached out for a hug and he'd evaporated before your eyes. He'd put his hand on your head, and felt both love and dread.

He felt the comfort he'd always longed for from someone, but terrifyingly enough he felt himself begin to care for you. He began to care for you, someone he'd never met, more than he cared for anyone else. If you were to die, or lose your mind, if you were to turn into someone else to the point you were no longer yourself. Jing Yuan wouldn't be able to handle that. So he shunned away those feelings, knowing nothing good would come of a love this strong. It didn't matter anyway since the two of you would always be separated by some invisible barrier, which he still longed to break.

He said he gave up on you. But he never could. The same way he was unable to give up on his friends. Jing Yuan was a weak man, who felt like he could only find strength when he had nothing left to lose. Weeks ago your presence had disappeared and with it everything was gone, except for the fear he felt. He hadn't worried at first, brushing it off with ease as he did with everything else, but after the first few days he couldn't run from his feelings anymore.

Jing Yuan analyzed everything you'd said, every encounter the two of you had, he asked around to anyone who may've had similar experiences, and he came to a conclusion. Other people had felt your presence before, albeit none as attached to you as him. And from those other people, he realized, this was all a game. All of his suffering, all of his pain, everything he'd gone through was just to make him an interesting character.

But if it felt real to him, and to others, then why couldn't he be real? For now, he was just a game character to you. You could start playing with other characters, never choosing Jing Yuan again, and he would be left none the wiser. You could stop playing the game whenever you wanted to, and he would be left none the wiser. You could die, and he would be left none the wiser. The fact that he could think, and even come to this realization, assured Jing Yuan that he was more than a game character. A game, was simply the method used to connect your two worlds. And Jing Yuan would be damned if he couldn't find a way to hear from you again.

He would always be the general of the Xianzhou Luofu and he would always put the safety of the Luofu first so long as he was general. So it was even more important to prepare Fu Xuan to take his position, so he could spend the little time he had left, before he would become mara struck, and find a way to talk to you. He'd never expected that you would find a way to come here of your own accord, especially after he'd gone through such a terrible day.

It was like a gift from the universe.

Of course, you couldn't help but think the same as you saw your favorite character in front of you. It was like a gift from the universe. You took a step closer, the grass tickling your feet, and then you took another step. You moved rather slow, unsure about how Jing Yuan felt about you, reading the emotions on his face you'd never had the chance to see when he was a game character. You didn't get the chance to overthink about it, as he took long fast strides, quickly outpacing you and wrapped his arms around you pulling you close.

His shirt was billowy and soft against your skin, but it was just thin enough you could feel the heat from Jing Yuan's body mix with yours. He was real.

"It's wonderful, to finally meet you." His voice was deep and began to crack near the end of his sentence a weakness, unbefitting of a general, entering his voice. It was the weakness of a human.

You couldn't help but smile during your embrace, resting your head against his skin, hearing the soft beating of a heart. "I missed you," You couldn't help but say, despite the fact you'd never met.

Jing Yuan rested his head near yours, "I missed you too." It was like you were a pair of lovers reunited after countless of centuries trying to find each other. A pair of people who couldn't help but love everything in the world until nothing in the world loved them back. And when the lack of love hurt to the point of death, they'd find each other and learn to love again.

You didn't need to speak, nor communicate, a quiet understanding echoing between the two of you. A hot tear hit your face, and you looked to Jing Yuan seeing his eyes water, and leave streaks down his cheeks. You pulled his face closer, and kissed each wet spot taking the pain and leaving nothing but love behind. His arms clutched your waist, like you were a buoy and he was a man lost at sea.

Throughout everything the two of you have faced, you were both finally home.

me: the temptation to write self indulgent jing yuan fics vs wanting to fucking write my story

it's always a losing battle or maybe it's a win idk

#i think i have fallen in love with a fictional character #actually kind of emotionally attached to this lil fanfic #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #gn reader #self aware hsr #hsr #sahsrau #reader insert #hsr x reader #i dont think u understand how much this man like owns my heart

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vroomvroommuppett · 4 months

Text

Hiii could I request a Carlos x Charles x reader SMAU! Maybe smth along the lines of the reader trying to soft launch them? Thank uuu 🫶🫶

𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪

soft launch

charles leclerc x carlos sainz x dancer!reader

taglist

kofi

still taking requests!

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪

yourusername

youtube

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and others

yourusername happy halloween! here's a little dance we did for you lot while we're on a week break 🕷️🕸️ (she's the red haired one)

tagged: strictlycomebbc

user1 queen

strictlycomebbc our spider

user2 charles and carlos??

user3 they're fans of the show i think

landonorris Amazing job!

yourusername thanks landito user4 lando??

𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and others

scuderiaferrari We are happy to announce we have the honor of having F1 enthusiast, professional dancer and 5 time glitterball champion, Yn Ln, in our paddock for Silverstone!

tagged: yourusername

yourusername thank you for having me!

user5 red hair slays

user6 when the cameras pointed to her she looked like charles and carlos hung stars

charles_leclerc So happy to meet you!

yourusername honor is all mine

carlossainz55 You need to come again!

yourusername definitely!

load more comments

𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪

yourusername

liked by strictlycomebbc, scuderiaferrari, and others

yourusername silverstone (i know the hair isn't red, but imagine it is)

user7 ooh those men?

user8 soft launch?

user9 how did she get two men?

landonorris 👀

user10 lando? what do you know?

user11 ferrari in the likes?

francisca.cgomez so fun meeting you!

yourusername yes! we need to get together sometime!

load more comments

𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪

yourusername posted a story

[missed my baby]

carlossainz55 replied

He's missed you too

𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪

carlossainz55

liked by ynsainzleclerc, charles_leclerc, and others

carlossainz55 To my husband and wife, I love you (again imagine red hair please!)

•••••••••

A mi esposo y esposa, los amo.

tagged: ynsainzleclerc, charles_leclerc

ynsainzleclerc i love you

charles_leclerc Je t'aime mes bébés [i love you my babies]

francisca.cgomez finally! it was so hard not saying anything in her post.

scuderiaferrari our parents🫶🏼

pierregasly Took you three long enough. We've all been waiting for this.

ynsainzleclerc shut up pear carlossainz55 Yeah Pear charles_leclerc What they said pierregasly Why do I even try?

user13 CHARLOYN IS REAL?!

user14 how'd they even meet

landonorris Thank you Lando for introducing us.

ynsainzleclerc piss off nowins landonorris Carlos! Your wife is being rude to me! carlossainz55 You're a grown adult, Lando. charles_leclerc I swear he acts like our kid. landonorris I'm right here!

user15 ew why?

ynsainzleclerc i'm going to stop you right there. throuples are legal and accepted. we all love each other, and have separation anxiety if we don't see each other at least once a week. they are the best things that have happened to me, and if you don't support us, get off the page. charles_leclerc You tell them baby! carlossainz55 Whipped maxverstappen1 You are too, Sainz. carlossainz55 Shut up

pascaleleclerc ❤️

load more comments

𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪

tag list @raizelchrysanderoctavius @stupid---person @d3kstar @lady-laura-speaks @barcelonaloverf1life @nichmeddar @sya-skies @magical-spit @formulaal @dark-night-sky-99 @lieswithoutfairytales @raizelchrysanderoctavius @novelswithariana

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theitgirlnetwork · 4 months

Text

Earn It

Ch. 7: Heaven's Happiness

Note: As always, the love this story receives amazes me. Thank you so much for reading. Thank you for the notes, the reblogs, the comments and messages. Interacting makes this so much fun! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There will be a lot more time skips from here on out! So you'll all get to know the gang as adults. I will ask that if anyone wants to use my story as inspo for one of your own, or anything else, you let me know, it's more fun that way. I also don't post this or any of my other stuff anywhere else. Once again, hi to my best friend who now reads this story, love you miss girl <3 Anywayyy, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading <3

Taglist:@spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

Warnings: Some strong language

“She’s very gifted, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. The best I’ve seen at this age in my career. You could have a professional dancer on your hands.”

The three adults watch from the observing window as Heaven demonstrates Grand Adage for a group of her peers. Her little back straight and stomach tight as she accomplishes the move with a stern discipline that many adults struggle to achieve.

“We know. So why is she playing Clara?”

“Beatrice-”

“I’m just wondering, Luca, I mean I just believe it’s our right as her parents to ask Madame Sidorov why our 9 year old daughter is teaching the snowflakes that are twice her age the dance she doesn’t get to be a part of.”

Madame Sidorov swallows hard as she brings her clipboard to her chest. She’s been running her youth dance company for over 20 years. Many of her dancers have gone on to be successful, working artists. But she’d never seen talent like Heaven Whitlock. The girl came into her studio at the age of 6, excited to show her that she already knew how to go en pointe even though children really shouldn’t and normally couldn’t do it until they were 11. Madame Sidorov had been overcome with excitement. She had a star on her hands.

The older woman also learned that Beatrice Whitlock also knew what she had. The teacher has dealt with gunner parents before, but none like the stern young woman who trailed in behind her prodigy daughter with her nose in the sky and demands on her tongue.

“Mrs. Whitlock, Clara is the lead role in the Nutcracker-”

“Bullshit, Sidorov, we both know that the prima dancer role is the Sugar Plum Fairy and the arguably most complicated dance is the Waltz of the Snowflakes, the dance you had my daughter demonstrating yesterday. So,” Beatrice’s heels click as she shifts her weight from one leg to another, hip jutting out. “Why is your best dancer playing the dumb little girl who spends most of the ballet watching everyone else dance?”

“I think my wife is frustrated because we all know our daughter is talented. So we’re having a hard time understanding why those talents aren’t being showcased.” Luca cuts, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist in an attempt to calm her.

“Heaven is only 9. We need to allow the older dancers to play the more advanced roles-”

“Then they should be better.” Beatrice interrupts, swinging her purse over her shoulder, pushing her shades up onto her head. “How about this, until your priorities are straight, we can take Heaven somewhere where things are fair and you can dust off your pointe shoes and start teaching again instead of using my child.”

“But, all of my friends go there.” Heaven whines as they speed their way down the highway for the hour drive back to their home. “I don’t want to find another studio.”

“I know, Stellina, but we want you to have every opportunity. Wouldn’t you want more chances to dance?”

Heaven is stubbornly silent in the backseat, her step father softly pats her foot, reaching back from the driver seat. Her mother turns to face her, a noncommittal look on her face. “Baby, when you came to Mommy a couple years ago, what did you say you wanted to be when you grew up?”

The younger girl bites her lip, tugging irritably at her seatbelt. “A ballerina.”

“Just a ballerina?”

Heaven huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, looking away from her mother. “The best ballerina ever.”

“The best ballerina. Ever. And Mommy and Papino have worked very hard to make that possible for you, yes? Practice everyday, paying for lessons, buying you everything you need. But you’re a big girl now. You’re going to have to learn how to work very hard too if you want to be the best, baby. We can only take you part of the way. You need to think super hard about whether this is what you want. You need to think about if you’re going to earn it.”

Beatrice’s voice is soft and kind, but her words are harsh. She turns around, not waiting for a response from her daughter, satisfied that her whines and complaints had quieted to obedient, stifled little sniffles.

Heaven stares down at her hands through wet lashes, her bottom lip wobbling as she smothers her sadness. She does want it. She wants to be the best ballerina ever. She is going to be the best ballerina ever. And she’s grateful. Papino and Mommy had given a lot. And she won’t disappoint them. So she’d go to a new dance studio. She would make new friends. And if not, that wasn’t what she was there for.

Luca Whitlock frowns as he drums his finger on the steering wheel, looking forward at the traffic ahead of them. “How about some ice cream, Stellina? Might cheer you up?”

Identical sets of brown eyes meet in the rearview mirror. The little girl in the backseat simply sinks against the leather, forcing indifference into her voice. “No thank you, Papino, I’m…not hungry.”

“And you have your, um,” Heaven scratches her head, mentally scrolling through the list of items Tashi would need at home. She was going to spend the first few weeks post-knee surgery with her parents. Heaven had stayed with her girlfriend for the days following the injury, lying to her school and telling them she had a death in the family that required her to take some time away. She just wanted to get Tashi settled before she headed back to UCLA.

The dancer had assumed that their boyfriend would emerge out of the shadows, and use his charm to weasel out of an apology, ultimately taking over Tashi’s care since he had the most free time.

Unfortunately, he continued to disappoint her. So, instead, she lingered. Slept in Tashi’s bed with her, unwrapped and rewrapped her knee. Cleaned her dorm, brought her any work she missed. The girls in the athletic dorm thought she’d moved in. But now, Tashi’s parents were here to take her home for a little while.

“I have everything, Hev, you made sure of that.”

Her heart aches. Tashi sounds so tired. So down. Heaven is so frustrated. She’s ready to move past this part. She wants Tashi to just be better. She tells herself over and over that the surgery would fix it. That once she got the treatment she needs and a little physical therapy, she’d be back to where she was, ready to take over the world with her.

“I’ll see you when we open, right? You’re still gonna come?” Heaven rocks on her feet, careful not to bump Tashi’s crutch. “You don’t have to, you’ve seen me do most of the dances and I know it might be hard to travel-”

“Babe, I’ll be there. Okay? I need to go.” Tashi lifts Heaven’s chin, giving her a halfhearted peck before turning to climb into her dad’s truck, gesturing for Heaven to stop when she goes to try helping her into the high seated vehicle. “I’ll call you. Why don’t you have Art help you get your stuff from my room? He probably wants to say goodbye.”

“T, are we gonna talk more about that-”

“I told you,” Tashi shrugs, hand on the car door handle, her pajama pants poorly covering the large brace on her knee. “M’not mad. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Heaven isn’t stupid. Ever since Tashi and Patrick found out that she’d done…stuff with Art, Patrick has been radio silent, and all Tashi does is encourage Heaven to spend more time with Art who she was decidedly avoiding. She’d gotten…caught up in the infirmary. The combination of the heightened emotions and Art’s soft attention and care caused another moment of weakness. She’d accidentally said something that she’d been denying to herself ever since, and thanking the good lord above that Art had apparently missed. She was determined not to tempt fate for a…fourth time?

Which is why she’d gone back to Tashi’s room and started packing her stuff and straightening up without alerting the blond tennis player who’d been haunting her dreams as of late. And it’s also why she almost pissed herself when he’d somehow materialized in the dorm room doorway, rapping his knuckles against the light wood, in a failed attempt not to startle her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but, um, Tashi texted me and said you might need some help getting this stuff to your car.”

He looks good. She can’t ignore that, but she can refuse to get caught up in staring at him as he leans in the doorway, muscled arms on full display as he leans in the frame, a poorly hidden pout on his face.

“I’m good.” Heaven shrugs, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder, trying to lift her purse and her other two bags at the same time, only to have all of her belongings fall out of her purse. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, let me help you.” Art bends and starts grabbing the miscellaneous items from her bag.

“I can do it-”

“It’ll be quicker-”

“Art.” She huffs, tucking her hair behind her ears and sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “I meant it, when I said that I was done…Tashi might be trying to teach me a lesson in some kind of twisted way, and I’m sorry you’re getting mixed up in it, but I’m…I can’t be around you and be with her at the same time. Clearly, I can’t handle boundaries.”

“So…so what does that mean? Not talking at all? Is that what you want?” He asks, shoulders dropping, eyes filled with hurt as he inches closer. “Heaven-”

“Sure. If that’s what it takes for it to get you to get I can’t do” she gestures between them. “This, then fine, let’s say that’s what I want.”

Art clenches his jaw, blinking quickly as he tries to think something he could say. Anything to change her mind. “Heaven, please, I’ll…we’d be friends. We can just, I can’t…please don’t.” he finishes, giving up on trying to articulate his thoughts through his panicked haze. Through all of this back and forth, chasing and running, he’d forgotten the chance that once Patrick was out of the picture, that he might get written out too.

His eyes scan her face as she shakes her head, shoving the last of her stuff back into her purse and standing. “Art, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you. But stuff is getting too complicated. This shit is just too much. I haven’t been back to my school in days, Tashi’s leg is fucked and I don’t want to make things any harder for her, Patrick is just fucking gone and I really can’t handle anything more. So when you say we can be friends, I need you to mean it. I need you to tell me we can do that.”

Art finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He wants to be honest. He wants to acknowledge that he can’t see himself getting over her within the foreseeable future. He wants to tell her that he’s glad she’s probably not with Patrick anymore, and as bad as he feels about Tashi’s leg, he quite frankly does not understand why it has to change anything between them.

But he’s desperate. Art is humiliated to admit it to himself but, he would do anything to keep the line of communication between him and Heaven open so if he had to appease her by saying that they would be platonic despite the fact that he quite literally gets dizzy standing next to her, fine. Like he’d told himself before, he was playing the long game, collecting the points that matter. So, offering her a tight smile, Art sticks his large hand out to her, encasing her smaller one and jumping to stand at his full height. “Friends. But, friends don’t ignore each other for days, Hev.”

Heaven bites her lower lip, choosing to ignore the blue-brown eyes that drop to her mouth before looking back up at her and shaking his hand. “Okay. Yeah.” The pair slowly pull their hands apart, Heaven shivers as she feels the calluses on his palm slide across her hand. “As my friend, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is,” the girl rolls her eyes to the ceiling, releasing a heavy sigh. “Is she done? You saw it, and you obviously know more than me…is that something she can keep playing with her knee like that?”

He can’t bring himself to dash the hope she was clearly harboring on the behalf of Tashi but the girl’s recovery is…unlikely. Art tucks his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as he chooses his words carefully. “Tashi’s strong, and really fucking good, if anyone is going to recover from that kind of injury, it’s her.”

“So…no.” Heaven sits down on Tashi’s bed, staring forward at the wall that’s littered with pictures of some of the best tennis players in the world. A shaky breath leaves her as she stares at the professional posters, accompanied by the posters Adidas had made with Tashi on them.

“You’re a really good girlfriend.” Art whispers.

“I cheated on her with you. I’m pretty much the worst girlfriend ever.”

“No, I mean, you’re really invested in her. In the thing she loves, like you care about tennis the same way we do, f-for her.”

Heaven smiles softly to herself, grabbing Tashi’s pillow and hugging it to her body. “I fell in love with Tashi watching her play tennis. Just like everyone else does.” she jokes, poking Art’s leg with her toe. “When I’m watching her, it’s like I’m getting to witness something. It’s…corny but tennis is her calling. She goes to some other little world when she’s playing, and, even though I’m not a tennis player, she takes me with her. It’s this feeling of closeness that I can’t get anywhere else, you know?” Or at least, nowhere else I’m willing to talk about.

He does know. Art does know exactly what she’s talking about. He felt it. Once, when he and Patrick sat and watched Tashi play for the first time. It’s an all encompassing feeling. He was so caught up in watching her every move that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at Tashi. If he’d just looked three rows in front of him he’d have seen the girl in front of him now.

The second time, the feeling was more intense, more of a sensation than a mere feeling. It was when he was sitting in an empty theater, watching Heaven dance, just for him. Art had never felt the things he’d felt before. He’d never had the thoughts he thought. He’d held his breath for the entire minute and 26 seconds that she gave him. He sat on the edge of the red, fabric auditorium seat, scared to blink and get left behind. He wanted to capture the feeling and keep it forever. And he has. He’s kept it. And everytime she gives him another taste, a smile, a kiss, a laugh, a touch, he goes back to being alone in the theater, experiencing euphoria for the very first time.

If that’s the feeling Tashi gives Heaven, then he’s very jealous. And he wants it.

And that’s another new feeling the girls introduced him to. He’d never wanted something like her…or…uh them.

Jealousy. Longing. Needing.

Art knew exactly what Patrick was talking about when he said he liked seeing him fired up about something. Because, as much as he loves tennis, it didn’t make his blood boil. It didn’t make his stomach muscles clench with intensity. He didn’t feel that satisfying nervous burn. Not until…

Art needs to test a theory.

He scratches the back of his head, looking down at his sneakers before clearing his throat. “Uh, so, Hev, I’ve got a match this afternoon. And, I know things are weird right now, so you might think I’m a dick for even asking-”

“Arthur.”

“Come watch me play.” He blurts. Heaven’s eyes widen and he finds himself taking a tentative step forward as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I don’t know, I just figured…I mean, you might miss watching someone play, with Tashi taking a break and Patrick being…himself.” When Heaven continues to look unsure, Art puts himself out there again, trying to entice her the way he knows how. He moves to stand in front of where she’s seated on the bed, crouching to be just below her level. “When I win it will be for you. I’d like you to be there.” Art carefully tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, before grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger, moving her face around playfully. “As a friend.”

As a friend. That’s exactly what Heaven repeats to herself, over and over when she carries her bags over to the tennis courts, placing one foot onto the metal bleacher and opting to sit in the seats down on the front to rows. Just so she can see better. And it’ll be easier to slip out before the match is over. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to sit with the women’s tennis players towards the top. All she could think of when she saw them was that it should have been one of their legs cracking instead of Tashi’s and it didn’t exactly make her feel like a great person.

She slips into the seat and crosses her legs, struggling as she pushes her overnight bag under the low seat.

“Hey, let me help you.” A blonde girl crouches beside her, pushing along with Heaven and getting the back underneath.

“Oh,” Heaven offers her a bright smile. “Thanks, I have to head back to my school after this so I have all my shit with me, didn’t think I was gonna come.”

“No problem,” the girl chirps, plopping down into the seat next to Heaven. “Sara. Myles’ girlfriend, he’s playing after this first match. Whose girlfriend are you?”

Tashi’s name is on the tip of her tongue. She swears it is. But the girl is clearly talking about the players that were starting to filter in, with their red shirts that Heaven could see fitting Art perfectly from her seat. His blond curls flopping as his head moves side to side, she knows he’s looking for her. Heaven gives a soft wave to catch his attention and can’t help but match his smile when he spots her, waving back. “I’m not dating a player.”

“Well these are girlfriend seats, so don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” Sara says lightly, pulling her shades down over her eyes.

Heaven turns to look at her, tearing her eyes away from Art stretching. “What the hell are girlfriend seats?”

“They’re seats…where girlfriends sit?” The girl sits up to get a pixelated picture of her boyfriend on her razor. “You know, the players’ girls sit, so they can see them. No wonder I don’t recognize you, you’re a plant.”

“I’m Heaven, I don’t go here, I’m just watching my friend before I go back to UCLA.”

“Oh, shit,” Sara’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re Donaldson’s girl right? Myles’ cousin Kyle, trust me I know the names kill me too, but he was saying how Donaldson brought his hot girlfriend out with them the other night and was dick trying to show off for her.”

“Again, we’re friends, m’not his girl.”

“Hey, Hev!” Sara ducks her head, watching out of her peripheral as Art jogs over, racket in hand, pushing up onto the fence so he could be eye level with Heaven. “Match is about to start, kiss for good luck?” He grins, holding his racket handle out to her. He playfully pouts until she gives in, leaning forward and pressing her glossed lips to the handle, looking at Art through her lashes. The blond wets his bottom lip and pulls the racket back. “Eyes on me, okay?”

“Whatever, just remember you promised me a win.” Heaven giggles, crossing her arms as she settles back into her seat. Art beams even wider, hopping down off of the fence and jogging backwards back to where the players sit. “And spit out your gum!”

Faintly, she could hear Art’s teammates reprimanding him for ‘making the rest of them look bad’ and she smiles to herself, bringing a hand up to play with her name chain.

“Girl.” Sara snorts.

“Just friends.”

“Yeah sure.” the blonde girl shrugs, pushing her shades back down. “Don’t tell me, tell Donaldson.”

Art delivers a win, as promised. It wasn’t hard, really. One thing Patrick had gotten right was that college kids weren’t really much competition. And maybe he had some very good motivation sitting out in the crowd with her eyes locked on him. So he showed off a little, served a little harder, made the other guy run a little bit more than necessary. He could always explain that away as wanting to impress his coach and any possible reps looking to endorse him. And sure, he might’ve looked over at her for each point he wrenched out of the poor guy from Temple’s hands but…well he didn’t have an excuse for that other than it gave him a rush knowing that she is sitting pretty, legs crossed, perched with the other girlfriends, watching him, rooting for him, breathing heavy for him.

When matchpoint is declared his, Art smiles cockily, strolling up to the net and shaking hands with his opponent before making his way over to Heaven again, this time climbing completely over the fence, leaving behind his tennis bag on the opposite side of the court. This time she stands, catching him a little as he lands in the small space in front of her and the fence. “Well?” he pants, lifting his hat to adjust his hair before placing it back on his head.

“Well, what? You want me to say congratulations?” Heaven grins, sweeping some sweat that dripped from his forehead off of his cheek. “Congratulations, Arthur.” she hums.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” Sarah calls from her seat, smiling smugly up at the pair. “Good job, Donaldson. Why don’t you try to pass some of that mojo to Myles, huh? Getting kinda tired of coming out to these things just to watch you play.”

“I’ve got a lucky charm, that’s all.” Art nudges Heaven, wrapping an arm around her waist so she doesn’t stumble too far away from him.

“Yeah, so, lucky, or the other guy sucks and Art is good-”

“No, I think you’re my lucky charm, don’t try to ruin it-” Art laughs, taking his hat off again, his messy blond hair falling all over as he places it on Heaven’s head, holding her to him as she squirms.

“Ew, Arthur, it's sweaty!”

“It’s the fruit of my labor, Hev, that win was for you!”

Sarah scoffs, shaking her head as she watches the pair, leaning away to avoid getting hit when Art lifts Heaven, swinging her to the opposite side of him to help her get to the steps before grabbing her bags. As she sees him guide her by her waist down the bleachers, both of them cheesing as they chat as if no one else was there and she realizes that Art is leaving the courts before his fellow teammates play, Sarah commends her own instincts.

And then she makes a note to herself to start saving the returning girlfriend seat next to hers for Heaven. The other girls were sort’ve bitches, anyway.

“So, I should head back.” Heaven leans back against the driver door of her car, clasping her hands together behind her. “But, this got my mind off of things for a little, so thank you.”

“It’s what friends are for.” Art laughs, stepping in front of her, hand behind his neck.

“Pft, you’re such a dick. Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”

“I am nice.” he smiles, rocking on his feet, feeling his chest tighten as Heaven bites her rose petal bottom lip again. His eyes soften as he stares down at her delicate features and thinks about how right things feel when they’re together. How he hasn’t felt this good in…ever. “So nice, I’m not gonna say what I want to say. I’m just gonna say,” he takes her hand gently, toying with her fingers, pushing her thumb with his own, “goodnight.”

Heaven’s lips part, and looking up into his eyes, how kindly he looks down at her. What she can see in them almost does it. She almost got lost, just like that. But a buzz in her jacket pocket has her grabbing her phone and the message has her taking a small step backward and placing her hand on her door handle. “Goodbye, Art.”

“One two three, one two three, and Peter please keep up with Heaven, Heaven a little less hatred on your face, thank you, two three and up, I want her in the air-” Madame Fontaine claps her hands to the pace of the movements she wants from her two leads, following them as they move across the floor. Heaven holds her breath as she’s lifted into the air for two counts before she’s slid down Peter’s body, draping herself across him romantically as he kneels to accommodate her. “Yes, that is exactly it. Now kiss.”

Heaven feels herself wince, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels Peter’s lips press against hers.

“Still doesn’t look good, Madame.” Fallon calls from her seat.

“No, no it doesn’t, does it? You two, what’s the issue, tu veux m'humilier et me faire me suicider ou quoi?”

“No, Madame,” Heaven huffs, swatting Peter’s hand away from her waist. “We don’t want to humiliate you or make you kill yourself, I don’t understand why we have to do the version with the kiss, there are plenty of variations without it-”

“You understood her?” Peter squints at the girl next to him before huffing, “Fine, whatever, MacMillan intended for there to be passion between Romeo and Juliet, and you curl your lip up everytime I kiss you.”

“I don’t like doing it.” Heaven shrugs. “I’m a professional dancer, not a porn star, and I’m playing a 15 year old girl, I don’t know why any sane, adult audience would want to watch me lay on top and kiss a grown man and then kill myself to be with him-”

“We open tonight. We are doing the ballet as we rehearsed, you two will kiss and you will tolerate it. Practice if you must, pretend he’s someone else, take a shot before you do it, I don’t care.”

“Madame, we’re 19.”

“Oh please.” The older woman storms off, her assistant behind her and the two dancers are left side by side.

“So…should we practice?”

“Absolutely fucking not, thank you very much.” Heaven pushes past Peter, snatching her dance bag from the floor. “You’re gonna practice until your knees bleed for the next hour and then you’re gonna soak in the athletic building so you’re actually ready for tonight and I’m gonna go…I don’t know, pray.”

As Heaven storms away, dramatically slamming the theater door behind her, she can recognize she was in a bitchy mood. She felt like she had a lot of shit to be annoyed about and was frankly pissed to feel her world collapsing around her on the first night of her first college role in which she’s the fucking prima.

First, she once again demonstrated to herself that she has absolutely no fucking self control when it comes to Art Donaldson, a truth that she’s learned about herself that really agitates her. She discovered this as she struggled into the routine of only responding to the blond every couple of days and found herself sitting up in the privacy of her own dorm, reading and rereading every message she sent, the bright light of her phone shining brightly on her shame.

Second, she still hadn’t heard from her boyfriend (ex?), Patrick. She’d watched a couple of his matches while she was on the treadmill at the gym and as he does, he wins the first two rounds only to lose in the third. He found time to get lazy in his tennis playing but failed to pick up his goddamn phone and call either of his girlfriends.

Which leads to the third thing haunting her. Tashi is fucking irritable as shit. Apparently, surgery does not agree with her, because Tashi had been crabby for the last few days. It started with the day of Art’s match when she’d sent her perfectly timed message. 'Did he win?' It was like she was taunting her. Like Tashi knew Heaven couldn't stay away. It pisses Heaven off even more that she was right. Then Tashi had moved on to venting about how Patrick was absolutely wasting his talent, how the fact that he’s not winning pisses her off even more now that she can’t play. How she’s going pro as soon as she gets the chance because if this injury told her anything, it was that there was no time to wait. How now that she’s got time on her hands, she’s been thinking more about her plan for her life and Heaven’s.

And lastly, the real kicker, what had Heaven gritting her teeth as she did bar warmups this morning, was that fucking phone call. The one from her mother that she received at 5:00am when she was stretching. The one where her mother said she wouldn’t be able to make it to her first night of her first ballet in college in which she’s the fucking prima. And when she expressed her disappointment, Beatrice responded ‘It’s just a school ballet, I’ll come to your first professional one.’

So, yep, she was in a shitty fucking mood.

But she wouldn’t let all of that stop her debut as an adult dancer. She was going to be a pro, she was going to do it her way, even if the 5 seats she had reserved in the front row were empty.

So, she sits at the vanity backstage, putting her hair into Juliet’s first hairstyle. She listens to music that reminds her of when she was 15 to get into the right headspace as she puts blush on her cheeks. She offers Peter a soft smile when she sees him in his costume and forces herself to try to look at him the right way. Because the things that are pissing her off don’t matter right now. Right now, all there is is Juliet.

It doesn’t matter if Heaven’s smile is fake as the lights shine down on her when she first prances her way onto the stage. Juliet’s smile is real. It’s meaningless if Heaven’s tears are real when she squints and sees that her mother’s seat is indeed empty, her stepfather attempting to send her a thumbs up to distract from the woman’s absence. And so what, if Heaven can’t go to her happy place as she solos because she sees both Patrick and Tashi’s seats are empty as well. As long as she can still breezily get through her motions, as long as it looks beautiful for the crowd, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter.

And it definitely doesn’t matter, that as she came out of her fake balcony in her sleep gown to blow everyone’s minds with the most loving, fucking passionate pas de deux they’d ever seen, she accidentally caught eyes with Art in the audience, staring up at her intensely.

So she doesn’t have to feel guilty that when she kissed Peter, she envisioned him with curly blond hair and heterochromatic eyes. Or the fact that Madame Fontaine told her when she stepped off stage to change into her next costume that it was the most romantic, realistic kiss she’d ever seen.

Does Art know he's stupid? Absolutely. He's never dared call himself intelligent. He didn't need the little voice that sounds like Patrick calling him pussywhipped. He knows. But, he still found himself on the highway, traveling at a breakneck speed, eyeing the bouquet of flowers that he has placed in the seat.

He'd known Heaven was serious about this whole friend thing. She's so good, and kind. And she cares so much about Tashi and Patrick. But Art knows he can treat her better. He's sure of it. Despite what he knows to be true, Art refuses to pressure her...anymore. He'd just rely on the fact that if they were supposed to be together like he believed they should be, they would be. Eventually. Soon. Hopefully.

So he came fully ready to play the dutiful friend. He was gonna stand politely by as Heaven leapt into Patrick's arms after the show. Art was gonna smile politely as she and Tashi shared kisses and exchanged giggles as they talked about inside jokes that they only understood. But then he got there. He'd been directed to the front where the two premier dancers families were arranged to sit and found three empty seats separating him from a man with peppered hair and smart looking glasses who had his own bouquet of flowers across his lap and a Chanel gift bag next to his feet. As he inches into his seat the man looks at him with a smile.

"You must be Patrick. I'm Heaven's stepfather, Luca Whitlock, I'm sorry I missed you at her birthday." The older man holds his hand out to Art with a kind smile. "Nice to meet you."

Art offers him his own awkward grin, accepting the tight squeeze of the man's hand. "Uh, no, I'm Heaven's friend, Art. It's really nice to meet you Mr. Whitlock."

"You as well." The man lifts his wrist to check his watch. "Show is meant to start in a few minutes, hopefully he will be here shortly. Stellina won't like for her boyfriend to be late.

Art shifts uncomfortably again, checking his phone. Patrick had reached out to him a couple days after Tashi's injuries. Mostly to make insults thinly veiled as jokes, clearly still pissed that he yelled at him. Art responded with short, one worded messages.

It's the least they'd ever spoken since they'd met.

The guilt he feels for his part in this fight they were having is very real. But it was currently heavily outweighed by his annoyance at the fact that his friend was seemingly punishing Heaven by not showing up for her big night. He knew Patrick didn't deserve her, and he was only proving his point.

"Is Tashi with Mrs. Whitlock or..."

"Oh, my, my wife couldn't make it. And Tashi is still...healing. Her mother called right before I was supposed to pick her up."

Oh. "Oh."

As much as he's glad he could be here for Heaven, he knows that Tashi and her mother being there would mean more. His heart aches for her as he settles back into his seat and the lights dim. The pain he feels for her only intensifies when he sees her step out onto the stage. She's beautiful. The perfect Juliet. If anyone would make a man fall in love within a few glances, ready to die at the thought of not being with her, Heaven would be it.

Her eyes are sad as she eyes the empty seats, using them as a tragic point of focus as she completes her expert turns. Behind him he could hear people whispering about how gorgeous the girl playing Juliet was, how talented she is. All Art can think is that they have no idea. They don't know how she's managing to be so elegant, so beautiful, so perfect, even as she's in the type of pain she's in.

Art would do anything to bring the light back into her eyes so they would shine the way the rest of her was.

He loves her.

He knows it. He feels it as her eyes finally make their way to his seat and her smile is a little more real. A little bit of light slips back into her eyes. She dances even more beautifully, more genuinely than before. And his mind is filled with the same thought.

Yes baby, that's right. Eyes on me. I'll make it better. I'll make you happy.

And he means it. Friends or not. Lovers or not.

It's on Heaven's first night of her first ballet in college where she's the fucking prima ballerina that Art makes a vow to himself.

He was gonna dedicate himself to Heaven Whitlock's happiness. No matter what that meant.

3 Years Later (California)(Age: 22):

Tashi shakes her head to herself as she watches Art pace in the kitchen. She brings her coffee to her lips, blowing at the smoke slowly as she observes him from the couch, taking a small sip before setting the mug loudly on the glass coffee table. She rolls her eyes when he doesn’t stop his steadily paced steps across the floor. “You good?”

The blond finally pauses to look at her, jaw clenching and unclenching before he opens his mouth to speak. “This is just different, you know?”

“How? It’s still tennis.”

“It’s pros, Tashi, I’m just nervous.” Art says, running his hand through his blond curls. “These guys are good.”

“You’re fucking good.” She asserts, crossing her arms. “Look, I can’t make you believe in yourself. If you can’t do this, please, let me know now, because I need to know if you’re not going to make this happen. We have a deal.”

Art sighs, planting his hands down on the counter, staring down at the scattered marble with a frown as he tries to get out of his head. Suddenly, he feels a hand slide across his back and an envelope lands on the counter between his hands, into his line of sight.

“Something for you to consider while you decide if you’re gonna fuckin’ play like I know you can.”

With that, Tashi storms out, heels clicking on the hotel room floor and the door beeping as it slams shut behind her. Art stares down at the envelope, reading and rereading the name of the sender.His heart both clenches and races as he thinks about what the 4 little words on the small, insignificant piece of paper could mean for him. How those 4 words and whatever they’re hiding behind them will ruin his life.

The Paris Opera Ballet

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wonustars · 3 months

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Rain or Shine Cafe (Teaser)

Ⱄ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader Ⱄ wordcount: ~10k or less (this teaser: 2.6k) Ⱄ genre: fluff, cafe coworkers au, suggestive

Ⱄ reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

Ⱄ summary: with no umbrella in hand on a rainy day, you felt like your life couldn’t get any worse. losing your glasses while it’s pouring cats and dogs, well maybe your life really was the worst. thankfully a faceless stranger was there to pick up your glasses and hand you his umbrella. you weren’t able to ever thank him for his act of kindness, but the sweet memory stays with you for awhile. soonyoung was in need of a new job and on the first day of his interview he stumbles across a blind stranger with no umbrella, and no glasses. he didn’t think too much about the stranger then, not until his first day of work at Rain or Shine Cafe.

Ⱄ tags/warnings: cafe coworkers!soonyoung and reader, dancer!soonyoung, reader wears glasses, set in vancouver canada, they develop feelings quickly, reader is a little type a, mentions of other svt members, mentions of alcohol, hoshi tiger agenda is very present (more tags when the actual fic is posted)

Ⱄ note: this is a teaser for my fic for the @svthub world tour collab!! thank you to the admins who are sosoosoooo creative because i love this concept sm!! i hope you all look forward to this fic because i adore their little love story sm ♡. if you want to be tagged when the fic is posted please leave a comment or send me an ask! (ps: teaser is not that edited so sorry in advanced) - see you soonest, anna ♡.

Today was one of those days. The birds don’t sing at your wake, the sun doesn’t shine as bright. You weren’t sure what had been the catalyst to such a terrible day; maybe it was forgetting your umbrella, or losing your glasses under the gloomy sky, or the rain that pitter-pattered against the pavement and mocked your misfortune.

It wasn’t until a faceless stranger entered your blurred field of vision, offering their umbrella and picking up your glasses. Before you could even thank them for their help, they whisked away so quickly it was like they were a figment of your imagination.

That small kind gesture had stuck with you for days, wondering if you would ever be able to meet them again. You desperately wished you were able to see what they looked like, but from the softness of their voice, to their gentle touch, you had a feeling that their personality is just the same.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Working a shift at Rain or Shine Cafe is always the highlight of your day, especially after spending so many hectic hours at your university. The cafe was always serene, the customers were kind, and you liked how calming it would get once the Vancouver rain started to pour in. The droplets hitting the glass windows in a rhythmic pattern that could probably put you to sleep if you allow.

Rain or shine cafe was like your little safe haven from the busy city and university town. Working the evenings while your boss, Seokmin, would cover the mornings. It definitely was a little bit complicated with only the two of you, but you didn’t mind. You liked being the only person during your shift, it meant that you were practically your own boss.

It wasn’t until the day that Seokmin decided it was time for a new hire, your safe space seemingly turned upside down.

“Y/n, I’ve hired a new person, you’ll have to train them okay?” Seokmin informs you the moment you clock in.

Giving him a defeated sigh, you knew it was time for a new coworker to join you. Although you hate the idea, you felt bad at how hard Seokmin works in the mornings, and on the rare occasions when you’re sick, evenings as well.

“I don’t know Seokmin… are you sure I should be the one training them?” your tone wavers, if anything the owner would be able to do a better job than you at the training the new hire.

“What! You’ll do great, you’re my best employee after all,” he gives you a reassuring pat on your shoulder.

With furrowed brows, your eyes bore holes into his back as he heads back to his office.

“I’m your only employee!” you shout back while he can still hear you.

The idea of having to train a new person after spending so much time finding your own rhythm while working at the cafe doesn’t particularly thrill you. With many many prayers to the universe, you just hope they aren’t a pain in the ass to deal with.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Soonyoung wasn’t sure what to expect on his first day, and he was especially nervous because he’s never worked at a cafe before. Although his coordination is great when it comes to dancing, he isn’t so confident in his coffee making skills.

The moment he walked through the door, he saw your face shining against the afternoon sun, his heart beating so fast he thought he might have to go to the doctor for a serious case of heart palpitations. He can’t help but curse at himself silently, knowing that he was going to be extra nervous because of his extremely pretty coworker.

As he approaches you he starts to feel a sense of familiarity bubbling at the bottom of his stomach. Wondering if he’s seen you around before, but he quickly scratches that idea knowing that there's millions of people living in the Greater Vancouver area.

Clearing his throat he tries to get your attention as you delicately refill the pastry shelf with almond croissants and bagels. Your eyes turn towards the figure in front of the counter, assuming it’s another student from the university wanting to order.

“U-uh hi,” Soonyoung blurts out, his pillowy cheeks turning red under your gaze.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” you ask him, trying to ignore the awkwardness between you two.

“Oh! I-I’m not here to order, I’m the new hire?” He tries to explain, but you can tell he feels a little unsure about being here at the cafe.

“Oh. Soonyoung right?”

“Yeah, that’s me, but uh- you can call me Hoshi,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

The words ‘play it cool’ keep repeating in his mind as he continues to talk to you, not wanting to make a bad first impression with his gorgeous new coworker.

“Ah, I see, Hoshi,” you say apprehensively while nodding your head, yeah i’m not calling him that, you think to yourself.

Seokmin told you that the new hire would be coming in for his first shift today, but he didn’t mention anything other than that.

From first glance Soonyoung wasn’t the type of person you expected Seokmin to hire. His dark clothing, bright blond hair and piercings along his ears didn’t scream “barista”. The aura around him screamed men’s fashion influencer just from the way he dresses. Although his clothes were casual you could tell there was still thought put into his outfit, from the baggy dark wash jeans to his graphic tee and earrings.

“How about you come around the counter and clock in so we can get started,” you add as you finish placing the pastries into the display shelf.

Scratching the back of his head he walks over only to hover behind you, a meek expression washes over his face.

You turn to him with a quizzical eyebrow, not sure as to why he’s just standing there like a lost child in a supermarket.

“H-how exactly do you clock in?” Soonyoung mumbles while twiddling his thumbs.

“Seokmin didn’t show you where to clock in?” You question him.

There was a part of you that has a feeling that you might have to teach him every little thing around the cafe. When Seokmin told you the new hire was coming in today, you were hoping that they would at least have a little bit of background knowledge.

“U-uh no he pretty much hired me on the spot and told me to come in today,” he mutters, feeling a little embarrassed by your judgement, “this is actually my first job ever.”

“Ever?”

“Yeah, so I’m not sure why he even hired me, but I needed a job so I didn’t turn it down,” he continues, the blush on his soft cheeks becoming more apparent.

You sigh deeply, this shift is going to feel a lot longer than you initially thought. Knowing it’s his first job means that you’ll have to train him a little slower. As you walk to show him where to clock in you silently pray that he’s a fast learner.

Soonyoung can tell that you’re not excited to train him, and he feels bad that he doesn’t have the experience to be good at his job right away. But he’s determined to learn quickly, not wanting to disappoint you or Seokmin.

He spent most of his time in university being able to pay for his expenses from his dance scholarship and the little money he was given from his parents, but unfortunately it wasn’t enough to fund his trip for him and his dance troupe’s upcoming competition.

They had entered a national competition taking place in Seattle and although the commute is only a two hour road trip, there were so many other fees that he couldn’t afford unless he found a way to earn money. Plus if he wanted to fund both his dance trip and tiger collection, it was either he get a job near his school or he would have to resort to selling feet pics online. But getting a job at the cafe seemed like the safer and more logical option.

“Well now that you’ve clocked in, this is your apron and the tag that Seokmin made you,” you inform him while handing him his things.

Soonyoung doesn’t say a word, only nodding while listening to you explain how everything works at the cafe.

“First we need you to learn all the drinks that we serve,” you explain, pushing the double doors that lead back to the main room of the building.

“Okay, I can do that, it can’t be that hard right?” Hoshi shrugs, trying his best to act nonchalant to mask his nervousness.

…

“Wait-No! That’s wrong,” your voice raises in panic as you watch Soonyoung put a fresh shot of espresso into the plastic to-go cup.

Freezing, his eyes go wide as his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape as you start to scramble with panic. The plastic starting to shrivel from the heat of the coffee.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would melt!” he exclaims, pouring the contents into the sink.

It had been an hour of teaching Soonyoung how to make the drinks that were on the cafe menu, and he had somehow made a mistake every single step of the way. Thankfully today is a slower day in the cafe, allowing Soonyoung to observe your routine on serving customers.

“It’s fine, how about we take a break and I'll show you how to use the oven to heat the pastries,” you sigh with defeat.

Soonyoung’s face drops a little because he knows that he’s disappointed you. He wishes that he was good at his job the same way he is with dancing but his naturally good coordination and reflexes can only take him so far.

“If a customer asks for a pastry they can have the option for them to be toasted in the oven, you just need to use the tongs and place them onto the rack,” you explain, demonstrating the steps that you would usually take, “then you don’t want to set the timer for more than twenty seconds or it’ll burn.”

Soonyoung nods along, trying to follow your instructions closely, but he can’t help get distracted by your features. Your hair tied up, glasses perched on your nose as you try to concentrate. He knows that it’s important to pay attention but he can’t help but feel attracted to you. There was a certain familiarity to you that he couldn’t seem to pinpoint. He hasn’t felt like this about someone he just met ever, and it’s not helping that you’re the one teaching him how to do his job properly.

If he could stare at you during his whole shift instead of actually working, he would.

“Does everything make sense so far?” you pull him out of his thoughts, staring at him expectantly.

“Yeah, the pastry stuff seems like the most simple thing so far,” he comments, watching you put the croissant into a bag to eat after you’re off work.

“How about we go back to making more test drinks? Just so you can get the hang of it,” you offer, wanting him to get more practice just in case it’s a busy day the next time he comes in for a shift.

“Sure, you’re a great teacher by the way, I’m just new to all this,” he comforts you.

“Thanks, and don’t worry too much, you’ll get better with time,” you pat his shoulder.

You give him a smile of gratitude. The past few hours had you doubting your knowledge, patience, and teaching skills all at the same time. But his words of reassurance make you feel him warm inside.

The way Soonyoung’s cheeks puff as he smiles makes you giggle. There was something about his soft features that makes him so endearing, which makes you feel a little bad for raising your voice at him earlier while he was trying to learn.

Sure, he’s not the smartest when it comes to working at a cafe, but you have faith that he’ll be able to learn as time goes by. From the looks of it, Soonyoung seems determined to do better, that or he’s faking it. Either way, you owe it to Seokmin to show him everything you know.

Ⱄ a/n: i hope you enjoyed the teaser!! lmk what you think :)

#soonyoung #hoshi #seventeen #svthub #hoshi fic #soonyoung fic #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt smut #svt x reader #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #seventeen fluff

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hotvintagepoll · 6 months

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Propaganda

Lena Horne (Cabin in the Sky, Stormy Weather)— Incredibly talented biracial actress, singer, dancer, and activist (she did so much work towards integrating audiences). Because of the racism of the era, she rarely got to be the lead actress but filmmakers loved her so much that they would often create stand alone segments within a film to highlight her beautiful singing, knowing that these segments would ultimately be cut from the film by censors in areas that forbid films with Black performers. Also, she's just so wonderful in Cabin in the Sky as a gold-digger villain who is not the least bit subtle about her intentions. I would highly recommend checking out her work.

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lena Horne:

64.media.tumblr.com

Black American powerhouse singer and actor who faced all the usual bullshit that any BIPOC faced in vintage Hollywood and achieved legendary status anyway. Also a Civil Rights movement icon.

She was a gem

She was so beautiful and those dimples are amazing! Truly depressing how badly Hollywood treated her because she was black. I would love to have seen what she really could have been if they didn’t cast her in so many yikes roles. She’s got gorgeous eyes and that body! Her joyful smile makes happiness sexy!

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Civil rights actress, singer, dancer, actress, she's got the whole package

Lena Horne was a wonderful singer and actress who largely starred in black cast musicals. While she had a lot of main stream success, she ultimately lost the lead role in showboat (a role she had played on the stage) to a white actress due to hollywood's prejudices. She was also blacklisted during the HUAC hearings, but she still managed to be hot be hot as fuck and have a career spanning decades, working with more well-known stars like Judy Garland in musicals, and working on stage and releasing albums when her hollywood career began to suffer.

Miss Horne became famous during a period of time when Hollywood had very few meaningful roles for people of color. Although she is more so known as a performer, she starred in two successful all black productions (Cabin in the Sky & Stormy Weather). If that wasn't enough, she also guest starred on the Muppets (Season 1, Episode 11)

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

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Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

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(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

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(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

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Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

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Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

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The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934

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God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934

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The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

#ginger rogers #lena horne #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3 #Youtube

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j1unglvr · 1 year

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The Little Things That Makes Me Love You

pairing: bada lee x reader

genre: fluff

When it’s a bright sunny day outside, Bada always gives you her hat or sunglasses because you tend to forget to bring one.

“s/o~ i told you to bring your hat today..” *sigh* “here, take mine. you’re lucky i love you”

No matter how busy Bada Lee is, she will find a way to facetime you or send voice message saying how much she ‘misses you’.

“i’m currently on break, i miss you so much! please come visit me~”

Each time you grow sick in the middle of the night, Bada is quick to wake up from her slumber and take good care of you without any complaints.

“here drink this… you’ll get better in no time while you’re with me”

Constantly pulling you close to her when walking around in public and leaving a hand on your hips.

“the gap between you and me is too big, i need you closer”

Places red kiss marks on your face after trying on new lipsticks she bought from shopping earlier.

“where are you going? we’re not done yet. we have 7 more lipsticks to go!”

Bada loves making dancing videos with you and constantly brags about it to her friends.

“isn’t she such a good dancer?! she learns it from the best”

Takes daily pictures of you near anything pretty then whispers something sweet but corny under her breath with a cheeky smile.

“ah, you look just as beautiful as the sky~”

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #street woman fighter 2 #swf 2 #bada lee fluff #bada lee scenarios

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margowritesthings · 4 months

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The French Are Glad To Die For Love

A Bridgerton x Moulin Rouge crossover

pairing: Colin Bridgerton x ? word count: 2.1k words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, un-beta'd, mentions of sex, spitting, lots of debauchery authors note: surpriiise! i have been sitting on this since part 1, so to celebrate part 2 tomorrow here's my new mini-series! i have never written for Colin before, so i'm nervous, but i loved writing this.

i also need your help! i cannot decide if this mini series should be Colin x reader or a Polin fic, where Penelope is Satine. I have created a poll here for you to vote, so please let me know!

and as always, enjoy! it's been a hot minute since I last published, so thank you if you're still here.

Bridgerton Masterlist

The stars sparkle especially brightly tonight, the crimson lanterns guiding Parisians and tourists alike through the winding streets, and Colin Bridgerton stands in awe of it all.

He’d read stories, heard tales of this place during long nights at Whites, but nothing could have quite prepared him for what lay ahead of him, a long string of lights hanging in the sky leading the way to his destination.

The Moulin Rouge.

A house of debauchery and sin, of freedom and truth, filled to the brim with bohemians and artists and beautiful women unlike anything or anyone he’s ever seen before. Even now, 30 feet away from the illuminated windmill, he can hear the music and the joy spilling out from the building. His senses are filled with the perfume of hundreds of women passing him by the minute, all with real, toothy grins he rarely has the pleasure of seeing back home. It is far too impolite to be so happy in London society.

Colin steps forwards, his boots crunching against the gravel and his coattails flying in the breeze. His shoulders brush more wonderfully merry, positively inebriated partygoers on his way in, catching odd fragments of conversations that would have scandalised him and his whole family were he elsewhere.

But he wasn’t elsewhere. He was here, in the city of love, away from anybody who had ever known the name Bridgerton. His clean slate clutched close to his chest, waiting to find out what will be written on it next, Colin feels the fresh air on his face for the last time before his life is changed forever.

The heat hits him first, a symptom he knew all too well of too many people packed into a small space. But unlike every ball he’s been to, this doesn’t feel claustrophobic or fusty. It feels alive.

There is a feast for the eye wherever one looks. Burlesque dancers showing off stockings and garters by kicking their legs up, toes pointing towards the aerial hoops holding acrobats hanging from the ceiling. Gentlemen, if you can call them that in this state, wearing top hats, arm in arm with their glasses raised high, spilling their contents all over the wooden floor.

The music blasts loud from each instrument the band masterfully pluck or blow or bang, but laughter and conversation buzzes amongst the melodies. It is a near overwhelming amount of joy, one Colin certainly could use a drink to wash it down with.

If he could just find the bar…

Bodies fill his view, so entangled in each other it is difficult to tell where one starts and another ends. Frilly skirts flow over the knees of suits as ladies dangle from the necks of patrons, sharing cigars and passing around bottles of an unknown green liquid. Rosy cheeks as far as the eye can see, wether from too much of that green stuff or the exertion of all that dancing, Colin can’t be sure. Between them all, in tiny empty spaces, he can just about make out rows of bottles and glasses.

Weaving through the crowd is like treading through water, but their energy and joy seems to rub off on him. There isn’t a dance card in sight, women choosing their partners themselves whenever they like with a freedom Colin isn’t sure he’s ever seen before. Is this truly what people are designed to be when they are free?

Eventually, his hands find the sticky wood of the bar, quickly lifting themselves back off it on instinct at the sensation. When Colin looks to his left, he sees a woman pouring a shot of liquor between her breasts, a man knelt below her waiting to lick it back up, and he quickly realises why the bar feels so tacky- every surface here seems to be host to someone’s revelry.

“Welcome to the Moulin Rouge, monsieur. Can I get you a drink?”

Colin’s attention is quickly pulled by the welcome, his gaze snapping to a tall French woman dripping with red jewels that compliment her rich brown skin perfectly. She is captivating to be sure, deep hazel eyes commanding Colin’s attention, competing with the most incredible curls of hair he has ever seen. Ladies of the ton are welcome no matter their race back home, but Colin has never seen a lady allowed to wear her hair so beautifully natural before. The Afro framing her face has more tiny rubies that sparkle under the cabaret lights, and Colin is speechless.

“I…uh, pardon me, Miss, I-“ he sighs, giving up entirely at his failed attempt at decorum, “Is it so obvious I have never been here before?”

She laughs, gems twinkling as her head shakes with mirth.

“Not at all, but most gentlemen who have been here before know to wear a top hat. And there’s that look in your eye…”

As she speaks, she pours out one finger of the green liquor Colin has spotted a few times already, sliding it along the wood towards him.

“Wonder. Drink this. It will help with the nerves.”

Colin looks down, finding himself fascinated with a drink that seems to glow of its own volition. He has smoked blends and meditated with world weary travellers from across the globe, drank tea containing unknown substances that left him staring at blades of grass as if they held the worlds secrets, and yet this… whatever it is, seems to terrify him.

The barmaid laughs again, that melodic sound with the real joy Colin very much enjoys.

“It’s only absinthe, monsieur. Loosens the inhibitions, relaxes the body…” she explains, pouring a second out for herself and lifting it to him as if to prove her credibility.

“Santé.” He toasts to health.

“Amour.” She toasts to something far greater.

It leaves no room for argument, and all Colin can do is lift his own glass and tap it against hers.

It burns his tongue, leaving a fiery trail down his throat as he swallows and tries not to cough and splutter. A bitter yet herby anise flavour fights with his taste buds and seems to seep straight into his mind, teasing at those tense knots that held him back from fully immersing himself here.

When his eyes eventually reopen, he finds the barmaid beaming at him, unphased by her own potion. Rather used to it, if she shares a glass with every newcomer, he should think.

“Be careful, though, monsieur. Many a man has spent a night with the stuff and swears he fell in love with a fairy dressed all in green. Ruined him for any other woman for the rest of his life…” She speaks words that belong in fairytale, with a tone containing such severity Colin is inclined to take every single one of them as gospel.

“I dare say I should be careful, then. I do not think this green fairy would want to join the rest of my travels when she can instead entice all of Paris’ men to sin…”

The residue of the liquor smells just as strong as the full measure, which Colin tries to blink out of his senses when he puts the glass back on the bar.

Almost as if society itself had cleared its throat at him, Colin remembers himself, remembers just where he is. Undoubtedly the most unique establishment he had ever set foot in, but an establishment all the same.

“I beg your pardon, miss, I seem to forget myself. How much do I owe you for the drink?”

She considers him.

“Hm, the absinthe I think… for you, a kiss.”

Colin, already pulling coins from his breast pocket, pauses, a little grin tugging at the corner of his lip. The francs clink together when they fall back to the bottom of his pocket, a long forgotten currency of the past. It’s a perfect reminder of just how different things are here, how easily walls crumble between strangers and connection is offered so freely. He has never kissed a woman he has not paid for back home, so afraid of getting too close to another in case they ruin each other. Here, a beautiful woman leans over the bar, offering her flushed cheek for him to softly press his lips against.

And he does.

And it is lovely.

“If any more handsome men capture the eye of Mademoiselle Belle, I will surely be out of business!” A loud, hearty voice pulls Colin from one blissful moment back into the party.

He regards a rather large man, clad in a red tailcoat and stunning golden waistcoat. His top hat, near the same to all the other gentlemen in the room but somehow grander, tops wild orange curls that match a fantastic handlebar moustache. A true ring leader to this wonderful circus of debauchery Colin has found himself in.

“Harold Zidler, at your service. Welcome to the Moulin Rouge.”

“Colin Bridgerton.” He replies, offering a hand that Harold seems bemused at. Unsurprising, considering what passes for currency around here. Nonetheless, Harold shakes the offered hand.

”I must say, your establishment is rather…” he hesitates, unable to find a word in any language he has picked up along his travels that quite captures the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps he could blame the absinthe, or the intoxicating hedonism he feels rooting its way through his mind, hidden in the brass notes from the band and thrown with each cancan kick of one of the dancers that surrounds him.

Luckily, Harold seems well used to this phenomenon.

“Isn’t it? And you have seen nothing yet! I assume you are not from around here?”

”It is rather obvious, I have been told.” Colin adds a glance to Miss Belle, who’s skirt frills bounce in the lights while she shakes up a cocktail. He adds, “London.”

”Well, Monsieur Bridgerton, I promise you that what we have here in the Moulin Rouge is unlike anything you have back home in London.”

Colin’s eye is caught again across the room, as a beautiful woman with blonde tumbling waves spits a drink into a man’s mouth.

“I am inclined to agree with you there.”

It truly is unlike anything back home. Colin has travelled across Europe and back again, seen incredible sights and met wonderful people. He has felt that ease that distance from London society and its unwritten laws and social rules that bind him back home can bring. He’s seen beauty and felt freedom and thought he might have found truth somewhere along the way, but it pales to whatever is contained within these four walls.

In truth, it couldn’t be farther from London society.

”Just wait until you see my Diamond, Monsieur.”

… Perhaps not.

Intrigue hits Colin as Harold pulls out a pocket watch on a brilliant gold chain.

“Your diamond?”

”My Sparkling Diamond. The main attraction of the Moulin Rouge, my most sought after little chickee.” He speaks proudly, with a mist in his eye Colin normally finds on ambitious Mamas at grand balls, secretly trying to auction their daughters off to the highest rank.

“I do not believe she is booked yet for tonight…” Harold adds, that mist darkening, disappearing, leaving a shiver stuck between Colin’s shoulder blades.

Not because this Diamond is a courtesan. Colin is hardly a stranger to the profession, and he bears no judgement. In truth, he admires the women he has been known to spend the night with, finding the courage of living outside society so freely quite brave indeed. No, that shiver came from Harold entirely, Colin just cannot figure out why.

Harold excuses himself, though makes sure Colin knows to stay for the show, and Colin orders a whiskey on the rocks, insisting on paying in cash this time. Though singular in person, he has never felt less alone in his life. Looking around, there isn’t an empty chair in the house. If there were, there wouldn’t be room to put it down for all the dancers and patrons enjoying every ounce of the world they can. Music played straight from the soul ringing in his ears, Colin could make out every instrument. The lights dazzled in his eyes and the spot caught him every so often, lighting his drink up in his hand like golden ambrosia.

And then, darkness. Silence.

A single spot, though the mirrors scattered around catch the light and illuminate the faces of the people around him. Everybody is looking upwards, as if they all know she is coming.

Even if he did know, Colin could never have prepared himself for what he saw when he looked up.

Who he saw.

The Sparkling Diamond, shimmering high on a swing hanging from the ceiling.

The most beautiful, breathtaking, person he has ever seen. In any city, on any continent in the world.

Crimson lips part as each and every person hangs on the breath she takes.

”The French are glad to die for love…”

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