#then when I spotted it in a scan through of midnight museum

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #27

Midnight Museum ep 1:

Vice Versa ep 9:

[exoticarmyofcrowns]

sing for me | kth

pairing: taehyung x fem!reader

summary: you have been living with your roommate for well over a year and the unresolved sexual tension between the two of you finally comes to a head

genre: romance, smut (VERY 18+ not for the littles), roommates au

warnings: masturbation, vouyerism??, fingering, thigh riding, attempted dirty talk, breath play, slight power play???, excessive use of the word “baby” and other pet names, kinda awkward discussion of feelings thrown in bc my characters never shut up when i want them to get it on sorry

word count: ~6.6k

a/n: hello~ um... i have no explanation for this. i am like half ashamed and half proud of this??? idek man. all i know is that i couldn’t have done it without @sugaerie​ so thank you so much my queen i love uuuu

You step through the door of your apartment, feet practically screaming with relief as you kick off your shoes.

Work was really kicking your ass lately. Add that together with the stress of grad school and you had a deadly concoction not even your favorite tea and copious amount of ibuprofen could protect you from. Your job as a cashier was pretty easy, you can’t lie, but constantly standing and running around the store did a number on your poor feet. Thank god you had weekends off—a perk of having worked there so long you practically had the manager wrapped around your pinky when it came time for scheduling—so you could sleep in for once.

Tossing your keys on the counter, you spare a glance at the clock above the stove as you walk into your small kitchen. It’s about a quarter to midnight. You figure Taehyung is still out with his friends, hitting up one of the bars downtown.

You sigh heavily at the thought of your roommate. Not because anything wrong with him. Taehyung is nothing short of incredible. He’s sweet and kind, always greeting you with the most adorable boxy smile that makes you feel like the only person in the universe. People gravitate toward him just as easily as he draws them in, a natural warmth that instantly puts others at ease in his presence. He’s generous and thoughtful, never missing an opportunity to surprise you at work with a coffee or just to see you. Those shifts are your favorites and maybe you’re a little spoiled because you often find yourself glancing at the entrance more often than not, trying to see if you can spot his dark, curly head from your register.

Not to mention Taehyung is incredibly stunning. Long dark curls frame his face in the most intimidatingly beautiful way it’s often hard to look away from him. He’s got piercing dark eyes that can stare right into your soul but that also crinkle beautifully at the corners when he smiles. His fashion sense is killer, obscure brands and fabrics lining his closet almost like a museum. You’re not sure how but he can wear just about anything and still manage to look like he just stepped off a runway.

He works as a freelance photographer and has quite the sizeable following on social media. He’s passionate about his work and it shows in the quality of his photos. You know next to nothing about photography but even you can see that the beauty and skill with which he wields his camera is nothing short of magical. Commissions are not hard to come by for him, though you’re more than positive it has just as much to do with Taehyung himself as it does his beautiful portfolio.

No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with Taehyung.

Only that he’s perfect and you have a massive crush on him.

Exhaling tiredly, you run a heavy hand down your face. Anyone else would be ecstatic about having such a wonderful, attractive roommate but you know things like this can only end in disaster. More than anything, Taehyung is your friend—your best friend, you would argue—and involving feelings into your relationship can only end poorly. The whole roommates thing just adds another layer of complication that is better left alone. You don’t shit where you eat, after all.

But it’s difficult. Taehyung is just so nice and likeable it’s unreal. You often find your thoughts wandering to dangerous places when you both are curled up on the couch together during movie nights, blankets and pillows and snacks scattered all over the living room, while he curls his body around you without a second thought. He’s naturally tactile, you try to remind yourself in an effort to calm your racing pulse but then he’ll laugh at something happening in the movie, his cheeks plumping up adorably, and you know you’re a lost cause as you feel your heart melt all over again.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to ignore your feelings for your roommate and you know something has to give eventually. In the last couple of weeks, there seemed to have been a shift in the air whenever you were around each other. Taehyung was still your adorable and playful friend but the hugs seemed longer, the touches more tender and lingering. You even think you’ve caught him staring at you a few times, a strange new darkness simmering beneath the chocolate irises.

Flushing with embarrassment and shame, you bury your face into your hands. Of course not. You’re just being ridiculously optimistic. You pull out a clean glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the sink, hoping to dampen the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Cleaning up, you decide to pamper yourself with a long hot shower complete with a nice sugar scrub and an in-shower face mask. You even spring for a shave, already excited for the feel of your sheets against the smooth, moisturized expanse of your legs. It’s the little things.

You hum lightly under your breath, already feeling the residual tension from the week bleed out as you gently massage your favorite lotion into your skin. Finishing up, you feel much more relaxed and so wonderfully clean you can’t help the smile that graces your lips as you move to head back to your room.

“___.”

It’s faint, so faint you think you imagine it but it still makes you freeze as you step out of the bathroom. Glancing down the short hallway that leads to your room, you blink for several seconds and wait to see if you hear it again. When nothing happens, you feel your heart resume its normal pace before rolling your eyes at yourself and continuing on to your room.

“___.”

This time it’s unmistakable and you can’t help the way the sound of your name makes you jump in fear. Now you’re in full-on panic mode and you anxiously scan the apartment. Your eyes catch on the faint light emanating from Taehyung’s room and you relax slightly. How had you not realized he was home already?

Your relief quickly morphs into confusion. Why would Taehyung be calling for you? Did he need something? Was he hurt? Stifling your self-induced panic, you quietly make your way over to his door. Despite having been in his room multiple times before, something feels off now. Almost like you shouldn’t be there. You can’t quite put your finger on it but something about the whole situation has you on edge…

You shake it off. It’s fine. You’ll just casually peep through the slightly ajar door and make sure everything is okay before marching off to bed to enjoy your evening in. Simple as that, right?

Wrong.

Whatever you thought you were going to see past the small opening of his door doesn’t hold a candle to the image that will undoubtedly be burned into your memory forever.

There, laying casually on his bed, is Taehyung. That in and of itself is not out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that he is naked save for the boxers he normally wears to bed, with a hand pulling desperately at his painfully red length.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe, air catching so violently in your throat you nearly choke audibly. Slapping a hand over your mouth and nose, you will yourself to calm down enough to take in the scene before you. Taehyung’s long legs are splayed almost elegantly across his sheets, deliciously thick thigh muscles clenching and unclenching from his ministrations. His hand glides skillfully over his cock, alternating between slow, languid tugs and fast, unyielding strokes. He throws his head back before tucking his chin in briefly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. A hiss of pleasure melts into a throaty groan and heat pools rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

A voice in the back of your mind screams for you to get away while you can. You shouldn’t be here. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve lusted after your roommate, how long you’ve wanted to push him against any flat surface and have your way with him or let him have his way with you. It doesn’t matter that you want to do couple-y things with him too, like hold his hand and kiss those soft, pink lips because you are roommates—friends—and a fling like that could only end in disaster, especially when he doesn’t feel the same way. It doesn’t matter and you have to leave now before—

“___,” Taehyung groans once again, hands caressing up his lean stomach and you’re distracted by the way his muscles ripple with the attention. “Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna come help me?”

Something between a squeak and a cough leaves your throat in that instant and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t bring yourself to move for a good second but Taehyung lets out another low moan and your feet move of their own accord into the bedroom.

If you thought he was beautiful before, he is absolutely glowing in the soft light of his bedside lamp. A light sheen of sweat coats his skin and you are overwhelmed with the urge to lick a stray bead that travels down his neck. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you try to subtly squeeze your thighs together to ease the ache. This does not go unnoticed.

“Hello, darling.” The words leave his lips in a low purr and a shiver zips down your spine. He’s smirking at you, hands still gripping his length but his pace has slowed significantly as if giving you a show. He seems perfectly comfortable despite the lack clothing, completely unfazed by your blatant staring. Like he wants you to look at him and only him. The thought has your face burning.

“T-Tae, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t is obvious, sweetheart? Surely I don’t need to spell it out for you, hm?” A particularly wet pass over his dick has him sucking in a gasp and you find you can’t look away. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Taehyung fixates on the motion, pupils blown wide and darkening further.

“Although you haven’t picked up on my blatant flirting so maybe I should.”

That snaps you out of your reverie. “Flirting?” You hate the way your voice sounds so weak and vulnerable but it can’t be helped.

“I haven’t exactly been subtle, ___. I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been trying to drop hints for the last few weeks now, hell, the last few months but you never n-notice.” He tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth again before releasing a heavy sigh.

Your head is spinning. This Taehyung is so different from the one you’re used to—yes, he’s still the same incorrigible flirt, but where he is usually giggly and playful he is now sensual and downright sinful. You think back over the past few weeks, the lingering touches, the casual hugs. Taehyung has always been touchy but they had felt charged with something else entirely. It’s good to know you hadn’t been making that up.

“I…” You truly don’t know what to say for yourself. “I didn’t know,” you murmur, feeling very very small all of a sudden.

Taehyung immediately stills at your tone and misinterprets it as discomfort.  “Oh. Oh god, ___, I’m so sorry.” Wrenching his hand away from himself, he scrambles on the bed, looking up at you with earnest, remorseful eyes. The waistband of his boxers snap shut in his frenzy and you almost mourn the loss of the desire-tinted skin. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought that maybe you…maybe you felt the same?”

You’re so taken aback by the complete 180 he’s made that your response gets caught in the whirlwind of your thoughts, This is more like the Taehyung you know, kind and considerate, and you almost forget the situation you’re in. Almost.

“N-No!” you stammer, eager to assuage his uncertainty. “I mean, yes, I-I…” You close your eyes tightly. “I do…feel the same.”

The way Taehyung looks at you after your stunted confession has your heart auditioning for a marathon and goosebumps prickling across your skin. You may as well have just hung all the stars in the sky with the amount of adoration swimming in his warm irises.

“I’m glad,” he grins brightly at you and you can’t help but smile back. You bite your lip out of habit and the smile fades from his face as he watches you.

Swallowing thickly, he rasps, “___, c-can I kiss you? Please.”

The desperation in his voice is not something you expect and a jolt of electricity zings down your spine. Dazed, you nod. That’s all Taehyung needs before he practically launches himself to his feet to grab you by the waist and pull you to him. His hand—the other hand that was not touching himself—cradles your face as he bends down to brush your noses together. A moment passes, Taehyung staring into your eyes to give you room to pull away. When you don’t, he smiles briefly to himself before surging forward to connect your lips.

The kiss is soft and warm, exchanging only the slightest bit of pressure as if you both are worried that you’ll frighten the other. Which is ridiculous, you think, since you have yet to run away. You bounce up on your toes to alleviate the reach for Taehyung and kiss him harder. He hums appreciatively as he nips at you, the sound tingling from your lips and down the length of your body. You shiver in his hold and move to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. The distance disappears between you two and you feel his arousal poking at your stomach. You break the kiss to look down between you, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Glancing up at Taehyung from beneath your eyelashes, you marvel at how positively wrecked he looks. He’s still damp with sweat but his mouth is slightly swollen from your kisses and his eyes are so blown out they’re practically black with desire. You feel yourself clench hopelessly as the blood rushes loudly in your ears.

“Can I—Can I watch you?”

You’re just as surprised as Taehyung is to hear those words leave your mouth but you’re not quite thinking straight, not when he looks like that and you finally have him in a way you never thought you would. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, and you want to savor every moment together.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to be faring much better, the request making his breathing turn heavy as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. “Are you sure, ___? Are you absolutely sure? Because once we start, I don’t think I can stop.”

Peeking up at him coyly, you respond, “Who says I’ll want you to?”

A beat. Then, Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and practically growls at your words. His arm tightens around your waist and crushes your body to him as if trying to mold you together. You love it.

“Then sit back and enjoy the show.” His lips quirk into a lascivious smirk before crashing your mouths together once again. This kiss is different than the previous one, not one bit of hesitation lingering now. Taehyung’s tongue licks along the seam of your mouth insistently and your legs turn to jelly as you open up for him.

The kiss is over too soon but before you can mourn the loss of his lips, he pushes you down onto the bed and resumes his spot against the pillows. Tugging on his boxers, Taehyung pulls them down to discard them somewhere behind you. Heat pulses through you at the sight of his exposed flesh and your thighs rub together once again.

Taking himself in hand, Taehyung spreads his legs and begins a torturously slow pace. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.” All the air in your lungs leaves you at the confession. You can’t even think clearly, much less think up a semi-coherent response, but he doesn’t seem deterred by your silence.

“I’ve always—shit—I’ve always wanted t-to kiss that pretty little mouth of yours, ravage it until you can’t think. Your mouth, your neck, anything I could get my lips on.” Your eyes eagerly take in the sight of the milky substance beading at the tip of his cock and making his passes even messier.

“Ah, fuck, I-I wondered what kind of sounds you would make. If you would gasp and sigh or if I could make you scream.” He twists his wrist as he glides over the head of his length and he gasps out loud, his breathing rough and ragged and oh so lovely.

“I’ve thought about what it would take you to make you beg for it.”

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it and heat blooms across your cheeks. Taehyung stills for a moment before resuming with a smirk.

“Oh? Does my baby like the sound of that? Of me making you beg for my cock?” You nod, stunned and aroused beyond belief. It’s as if your brain has short-circuited and all you can think about is the fantasy that Taehyung so beautifully illustrates for you.

“Dirty girl,” he chuckles, tonguing the corner of his lips. “I should have guessed at what a desperate little thing you’d be. Asking me to stroke my dick while you watch.” He tuts playfully, eyes never leaving yours.

Breathing has become steadily more difficult and you’re acutely aware of the dampness between your legs. You want nothing more than to relieve the ache but you’re so transfixed on the beautiful man laid out in front of you that you can do nothing more than squeeze your thighs together.

“Look at you,” Taehyung’s eyes rake down your form, taking in your lust-darkened gaze and heaving chest before lingering on the apex of your tensed thighs. “I bet you’re dripping, aren’t you? So eager to take my cock that I could just slip right in if I wanted to, hm?” Again you nod, fingers twitching as you grip the sheets beneath you. He laughs lowly and the sound washes over you and settles deep in your stomach.

“God, I bet you’d taste so sweet on my tongue. I would spend hours just buried between your legs if you’d let me. Every time you prance around the apartment in those scraps you call shorts, I just want to bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk. Would you like that, baby girl? Want me to sink my cock into that sweet cunt of yours? Make it mine, over and over again?”

You’re practically panting now, desperate sounds ripping themselves from your throat as Taehyung stares at you intensely, hand never faltering on his swollen erection. He seems to take pity on you because in the next moment, he murmurs a deep, “Come here, baby.”

Snapping into action, you nearly stumble over yourself in your haste to be close to him. He smiles, fondness flickering in his eyes beneath the lust at your eagerness. You crawl forward until you are settled on your knees between his legs. A feeling of shyness settles over you—absurd, given the circumstances—and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. A hand winds around your waist and pulls you to him, forcing you to straddle one of his thighs. You feel a finger slip under your chin to coax you into looking at him. When you do, Taehyung offers a sweet smile.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” You go to nod but Taehyung clicks his tongue. “I need to hear you say it, ___.”

“Yes.” You’re proud that your voice doesn’t shake. “I want you, Tae.”

The finger on your chin turns into a forceful grip as he crashes your mouths together once again. It’s messy and desperate and you can’t help the loud moan that Taehyung swallows gleefully. You welcome his tongue into your mouth and when you give it a pointed suck, he lets out an answering groan low in his throat.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he pants against your cheek, planting wet kisses down your jaw and to the length of your neck. His lips meet the collar of your shirt but before he can even ask, you’re wrenching it off your body and onto the ground.

Taehyung seems at a loss for the first time since you’d walked into his room and you revel in the swell of pride that overtakes you. He can’t help but ogle greedily at the newly-exposed skin and you feel powerful knowing that you have his undivided attention.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Taehyung places a gentle kiss right above your heart before slowly making his way lower. The gesture is not lost on you and you find yourself melting further into his touch as your hand wraps around to tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel two hands ghost up your sides to tease the undersides of your breasts and you inhale sharply, chest pushing up into his mouth. Taehyung breathes a laugh onto your skin before cupping the soft flesh and placing almost reverent kisses upon their stiff peaks.

“Tae, please,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the onslaught of sensations he is inflicting on you.

“Hmm, I like hearing you beg for me.” His tongue flicks against your pebbled nipple and you cry out, unable to hold back anymore. “My desperate baby girl.”

“T-Tae, ah, please don’t tease.”

“Don’t tease?” He punctuates the question with a sharp squeeze. “But you’ve been teasing me for well over a year, no? Walking around the apartment practically naked, with nothing but a t-shirt or these poor excuse for shorts.” Taehyung’s hands leave a lingering pinch before gliding down the length of your torso to the hem of your sleep shorts. Hooking a finger inside, he snaps the elastic back in place and you gasp. “No panties?” He asks in wonder, eyes fixed on your lower half.

Swallowing, you murmur, “I-I don’t usually wear them to bed.”

He lets out a throaty groan. “Fuck, you really—” He cuts himself off with another sharp exhale, head tipping backward as he squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain. Something nudges the side of your thigh and you look down at forgotten length between you, swollen and nearly purple. As if in a daze, you reach for the turgid flesh and let the tips of your fingers graze the head tentatively. Taehyung’s eyes snap open to look at you in shock and you freeze.

“Do that again. Please.”

You can hardly deny him when he looks so fucked out beneath you and your hand begins a tentative pace, stroking his dick like you had witnessed him do earlier.

“That’s it, atta girl,” he groans into your shoulder, kissing the skin almost absentmindedly. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your stomach plummets at his words, inner muscles clenching almost painfully. You’re so turned on your shorts are most likely unsalvageable but seeing Taehyung so wrecked and because of you makes it all worthwhile.

Keeping up the pace on his cock, you don’t even notice your hips begin to lower onto his thigh and rock down against him until he sits up from where he’d begun to slouch in pleasure, leg knocking up into your dripping heat.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you, grinding on my thigh like that.” His words send your heart stuttering in your chest. “Your poor little cunt has been neglected, hm? You’ve been such a good girl for me, stroking my cock and getting me ready. I think you deserve a reward.”

Taehyung grips your hips with bruising force and helps you grind harder onto his leg. The drag of your shorts against your swollen clit is a little too harsh but the sheer dampness of the fabric makes the glide much easier.

“I can feel you dripping onto my leg. You’re soaked, baby.” You’re delirious at this point, incoherent noises spilling from your lips as you work yourself over Taehyung’s thigh. It’s not long before you feel the pleasure mounting within you, hips pistoning back and forth even faster.

“That’s it, baby girl. Use me. Make yourself cum on my thigh. Get yourself nice and ready for my cock.” His hands run soothingly across your skin, sending your nerves on fire. You whine as you feel your orgasm approach with each pass of your hips.

“Come on, babe. Give it to me. Let me feel you cum all over me.”

With a strangled cry, you buck against Taehyung uncontrollably as you finally release all over his leg. You curl into him, hands tangling into his hair and tugging in order to keep yourself grounded. Your hips gradually slow as you ride out your high and you find it a struggle to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, letting the aftershocks wash over you.

“Oh, ___,” Taehyung murmurs in wonder. Almost sheepishly, you peek up at him from beneath your eyelashes to see him staring at you with such unadulterated reverence and want that your heart skips a beat. “You did so well, baby girl,” he rasps, lips ghosting over your face tenderly.

Face warm, you try to redirect the attention to him and begin placing gentle kisses along the length of his neck. Taehyung tilts his head back, eyelids fluttering prettily at your ministrations. Smirking to yourself, you trail your hand teasingly down the length of his chest to make your way down to his dick but he stops you with a firm hand around your wrist. Before you can even open your mouth to question him, he’s already flipped you over onto your back.

“Hmm, still so eager for my cock.” He nips playfully at your bottom lip, laughing when you move to chase him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re getting there. I have to get you ready first.”

Two of his fingers brush the swell of your mouth and you open immediately to take them in. Taehyung inhales sharply as you give them a pointed suck, eyes narrowing slightly to let you know that you will certainly pay for that later. The thought sends a shot of arousal to your core.

Taehyung removes his fingers and wastes no time in bringing them to the apex of your thighs. He makes quick work of your soiled shorts and suddenly, he’s all you can feel. A single digit swipes the length of your slit to circle around your clit, eliciting a hiss from the both of you.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet,” Tae groans, in a trance. “All for me.”

He wasn’t really speaking to you but you nod anyway. “Yes, Tae. All for you.”

Eyes snapping to yours, he sinks one finger into your weeping heat and watches your face for any signs of discomfort. You tense slightly before relaxing and sending him a reassuring smile as a signal that he can continue. He pumps his finger in and out, letting you get used to the sensation before gently slipping in another. Scissoring the digits, Taehyung furrows his brows and bites his lip as he forces himself to be patient.

You, on the other hand, are having a much harder time controlling yourself. Soft whimpers escape you with every pump of Taehyung’s fingers. One particularly potent curl has you gasping for air as an animalistic growl tears itself from your throat, hips bucking harshly upwards.

“Gah, Tae—please,” you pant, hands flailing wildly for something to hold onto before settling on his hair.

“Anything, darling.” Taehyung inserts yet another finger and you begin to really feel the stretch, so much that it nearly becomes uncomfortable. A small noise of discomfort makes the man above you pause but he mouths at your temple reassuringly. “I know, baby, I know. But I have to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Right then, he curls his fingers just as he did before and you’re seeing stars again. He places adoring kisses along your jaw before dipping for another taste of your mouth. You eagerly accept him, opening fully to him as your hips roll along with the rhythm of his fingers.

Breaking away, you pant, “I’m ready, Tae.”

“Are you sure?” Looking deeply into your eyes, he must find what he’s looking for because he nods lightly and kisses you breathless. He reaches over to his nightstand and rummages in his drawer. The crinkle of a wrapper hits your ears, making your face warm slightly as the reality of the situation hits you full force. You were really doing this. The fact that the man that you’ve pined after for so long is here with you—actually likes you—is so surreal you’re not quite sure how to process it but you’ll be damned if you didn’t enjoy every second of it.

Once he has rolled the condom on, Taehyung moves upward to cup your face between his hands. “Before we begin, are you absolutely s—”

“Tae, I swear to god if you do not get inside me in the next three seconds I will flip us over and do it myself.”

Taehyung blinks before chuckling. “There will be plenty of time for that, sweetheart. But for right now…” His smile turns sinister, prompting anticipation to swirl deliciously in your stomach. “I’m calling the shots.”

He takes himself in hand and rubs the tip up and down the length of your folds. Your eyes flutter when Taehyung collects your pooling arousal, making a complete mess of you.

When he pushes in, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. He’s big—of course he is—bigger now that he’s entering you and you can’t deny that the stretch is more than welcome. You glance up at Taehyung’s face and are pleased to see that he looks just as wrecked as you feel. He locks eyes with you, dark irises burning with lust but also something deeper. Something…soft and warm. The thought sends your heart pounding in your chest.

As he bottoms out, Taehyung makes sure to probe your face for any signs of discomfort. He doesn’t find any and tentatively thrusts into you, eyes never leaving yours as he does. You gasp, nerves tingling as a whine tears itself from your throat, soft and breathy.

“That’s it, angel,” Taehyung pants in your ear. “Sing for me. Let me know just how good I make you feel.”

You clench helplessly, reveling in the low grunt it earns from the man above you. He begins to pick up the pace, hips snapping fiercely against yours so that the only sound is the harsh slap of skin against skin mingling with your eager breaths.

“Such a tight little cunt, even after you’ve already cum once.” His voice is even raspier with the force of his thrusts and you practically keen at the sound. “I wonder how many times I can make you lose it.”

You sob, hips rising desperately to meet his. “P-Please,” you cry, unsure what it is you’re asking for but it doesn’t matter because he props himself up to get a better angle, looking down at your writhing form.

“Such a desperate little baby.” He punctuates the pet name with a particularly harsh snap of his hips and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can already feel your second orgasm rising within you, all you need is a little push.

“You know,” Taehyung begins, concentrating his thrusts to a slow roll, “I’ve always been curious about one thing.”

Before you can ask what it is, you see his hand snake between you, gliding across your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, to settle at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen of their own accord, breath stuttering as you realize the intention. Taehyung’s eyes hold a silent question and you nod, albeit a bit desperately, prompting him to wrap his long fingers steadily around the lowest part of your neck.

“Fucking filthy,” he whispers in awe, gaze alternating between your face and the sight of his hand wrapped around your pretty neck. He thinks he could watch this forever. Squeezing experimentally, Taehyung watches with utter delight at how quickly you fall apart under his grip. Your hands scramble to claw at his arm, not to pull it away but to keep him locked in place.

“Poor baby just wants to be choked and fucked senseless, is that it?” You nod jerkily, pleasure fogging your mind and making you delirious. You couldn’t talk even if you tried but the way your hips buck up into his needily tell him all he needs to know.

“So honest,” he chuckles, increasing the pressure slightly. “Good girls get what they want.” Taehyung pulls his hips back, so far that only the tip remains inside you, before snapping back in full-force. The pace he sets is brutal and you can feel his hip brushing relentlessly against your clit.

“T-Tae,” you gasp, stomach tightening as a particularly well-timed thrust has you seeing stars. “C-Close.”

“Is baby girl gonna cum?” You nod frantically, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his face. “Come on, baby. Give me one more. I know you can do it. My desperate. Little. Slut.”

Taehyung tightens his grip even further and that’s the end for you. A scream lodges itself in your throat as the coil in your lower stomach snaps, sending you spiraling into the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in a while. Taehyung releases his hand from your neck abruptly, the rush of air prolonging your pleasure to the point you think you might pass out.

Above you, you hear Taehyung groan gutterly at the vice-like grip your walls have trapped him in. “Fuck, princess, I can feel you squeezing. You’re gonna make me cum.”

Still breathless, you fight against the fog clouding your brain. “Please, Tae. Cum inside me, please. I-I want it so bad.”

“Such a filthy little thing,” he stutters, breaths sounding labored in your ears as he gets closer to his own climax. “Gonna f-fill you up so good. Make this cunt mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, tightening your muscles one last time around him. That seems to be the end for him because before you know it, Taehyung is moaning into your shoulder.

“All. Fucking. Mine,” he growls as he snaps his hips, once, twice, before stilling inside you.

It seems to last hours but Taehyung eventually collapses onto his forearms, careful not to crush you under his weight. You both take a minute to catch your breath, enjoying the feeling of closeness that follows. Eventually, he pulls back, carefully slipping out of you to tie off the condom and toss it in the wastebasket. You wince but relax immediately after, snuggling further into the soft down of his comforter.

Taehyung smiles adoringly as he makes his way back to the bed, heart flipping at how cute you look in his bed. Almost as if you belong there. He hesitates as he gets to the edge, fearing for a moment whether or not it was alright to join you. Those fears are put to rest as you blink sleepily up at him, arms tiredly reaching for him. Relieved, he snuggles in next to you and gathers you in his arms. It’s silent for a moment as you both enjoy being wrapped up in each other.

“Since when?” you finally break the silence, tracing mindless patterns across his chest.

Taehyung inhales sharply. He knows exactly what you mean. Still, he feigns ignorance. “What?”

You close your eyes for a moment, burying your face further into his chest. “Since when have you liked me?”

“Since when have you liked me?” he shoots back and you pinch the skin on his ribs. He yelps before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“I asked you first,” you whine, risking a glance up at his face. Taehyung is already staring down at you fondly, warm gaze melting into your own.

“Since the very first moment,” he whispers softly. You almost laugh, except his face is deadly serious. It’s suddenly hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. You stare at him in wonder—the delicate brush of his eyelashes against his cheek, the soft sweep of his sweat-dampened hair over his forehead, the gentle curve of his lips as he smiles at you. You clear your throat, glancing away as a pleasant warmth settles over your cheeks.

“That’s not an answer.”

He laughs breathily in your ear and you fight a shiver. “Okay, okay. Well the first time I realized it was the day you had come back from your shift after you had switched managers.”

You balk. “Are you serious?” You remember that day. Management had decided to move your favorite supervisor over to the men’s department while you remained stuck in shoes. The new guy was awful—condescending, incompetent, and downright unpleasant. You had come home that day with three different bottles of wine and all the take out you could afford and practically forced Taehyung to drink with you and listen to your misery. The guy was eventually fired but the whole experience had left you with a bitter taste in your mouth.

Tae chuckles as he thinks back to that night. “Yes, I’m serious. You were about halfway through the second bottle and were practically screaming curses at the guy. It took you all of 30 minutes after dinner to fall asleep right there on the couch, somehow still complaining about that dickwad.” You snort, hand shooting up to cover your face in embarrassment. “As you talked, I realized…I could listen to you forever. And then you fell asleep, cuddling so cutely into my shoulder, and I knew I was a goner. Even though you snore.”

Your eyes, which had started watering at his heartfelt confession, widen before you regain your composure enough to hit his chest. “I do not snore.”

Taehyung winces playfully, knowing full-well that you don’t but enjoying teasing you all the same. “So, yeah. I’ve liked you for a while. And I had an inkling you felt the same.”

“Oh, yeah? What gave it away? The fact that I practically hopped on your dick?” you tease.

“Well it certainly didn’t hurt.” He winks at you and you have to stifle the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. “But it was little things. Like how you’d blush at a compliment or if I hugged you just a bit too long. I couldn’t be sure though. Not until tonight, I guess.”

“Well,” you shift upwards, his confession instilling a confidence in you that you hadn’t known you possessed, “in case I haven’t made it abundantly clear: I like you very, very much, Kim Taehyung.”

He’s silent for a single, nerve-wracking beat before the most brilliant smile lights up his face and for the second time that night, you find yourself breathless.

“And I like you very, very much, too, ___.”

Taehyung kisses you then, slow and sweet, and you’re left thinking that you never want to be anywhere else.

© exoticarmyofcrowns 2020

[gryffindorcls]

Midnight Resolutions

Summary: After an accidental reveal, Marinette has been avoiding Adrien for months. Alya noticed, and with the help of their friends, she's been working hard to get Adrien and Marinette to admit their very obvious feelings for each other. Unfortunately, all their plans have ended in disaster! Now, it's almost midnight on New Year's Eve, and the class has one last plan.

Length: 2, 638 words This is my present for @toothlessthecatnoir for the ML Secret Santa Exchange by @mlsecretsanta​! You asked for fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, and a happy ending, and I hope this fits the bill! Sorry for posting this at the literal eleventh hour! lol Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy it! (A shout-out to my super awesome beta @misscongenialityofmlb for taking a look at this!)

— AO3

Fanfiction

“You all remember the plan?” Alya stared down the group of people gathered in her living room. “Because if you have any questions, now is the time to ask.”

“Honestly, I don’t think anyone was listening just now.” Alix rolled her eyes and huffed. “We’re exhausted, and we've been at this for weeks. What makes this plan any different?”

Alya knew her friends were tired, but she had to remain resolute. If she wanted her team of helpers to finish what they’d started, she knew that she needed to be the confident and optimistic leader they needed. Besides, this was the night that all their hard work would come to fruition.

It had to be.

Right?

She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. “This time we’re keeping it simple. They’ll kiss for sure!”

“But that’s what you said about the winter carnival, the history project, the Secret Santa, and the mistletoe.” The jovial aura that usually surrounded Kim was noticeably missing, sending a pang of guilt through Alya’s chest. “Nothing has worked.”

Alya did her best not to cringe at the memories of their various mishaps. True, her previous plans had been a little intense, but it was worth the sacrifice. Marinette had done so much for all of them in the past, and Adrien deserved some happiness in his life. It was the least they could do for their friends.

“And let’s not forget the time we tried to lock them in that closet.” Alix’s frustration seemed to grow as she spoke. “Marinette sent Kim to the emergency room after that!”

Kim shuddered. “Don’t remind me. If I hadn’t run away, Marinette would have broken my arm for sure. I still can’t figure out how she busted down the door that fast. We were lucky that I walked away with a mild concussion instead of a cast.”

“Look, I know we’ve been at this for months, but trust me! It’s going to work this time.” Alya clenched a fist in front of her. “I just know it will.”

Removing his glasses, Nino pinched the bridge of his nose. “Babe, don’t get me wrong, it hurts to watch those two, but I don’t think we can handle another disaster. Every time we put those two together, Marinette flips.”

“Yes, but it’s not like we haven’t dealt with a jumpy Marinette in the past.” Panic began to settle in her gut as the energy in the room slowly died. “It’s just a little more than what we’re used to.”

“A little?” Nino closed his eyes and sighed. “Ms. Mendeleiev is still pissed about the fire in her lab last month, and we’re lucky that the museum isn’t making us pay for the broken windows.”

“Not to mention Juleka lost her eyebrows...twice,” Rose piped in from the back of the group. “I highly doubt she wants to lose them a third time.”

“They grew back,” Juleka mumbled, “It’s fine. Marinette and Adrien need us.”

“Yes! Thank you, Juleka! We can’t stop now!” She could hear the desperation in her own voice. “They are perfect for each other, and you know it!”

“Yes, and I want my bro to be happy. I really do.” Slumping in his seat, Nino looked defeated. “But at what cost?”

“You know as well as I do that it was even worse before we started doing all of this. Marinette wouldn’t even look at him, and Adrien walked around like a kicked puppy.” Giving up was not an option...not when they were so close.

“Yeah, I remember.” Nino collapsed onto the couch. “Adrien was so tight-lipped about the whole thing, and I thought he was going to burst into tears at any second. But this is getting dangerous, babe. You gotta admit that.”

“If only we knew what happened between them that made them act so weird around each other.” Alix chuckled. “Well...weirder than they usually are.”

“All we have to do is get them to sit on this couch together all night.” Alya couldn’t back down...not now. “No complicated schemes tonight. We just need to put the snacks in the right place so Adrien sits next to them. That boy is always hungry.”

Kim shook his head. “Okay, that’s great and all, but that only takes care of Adrien. How do you plan on getting Marinette to stay in one spot? What makes you think that she won’t leave the couch?”

“All of us are going to pair off and make it too awkward for her to join any group.” She was proud of this plan, but the hesitant looks on the faces around her planted a seed of doubt in her mind. “She’s getting here before Adrien, and I know she’ll retreat to the couch when she sees the rest of us already engaged in our own conversations.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m with Kim. That is the weakest plan I’ve ever heard.” Alix plopped onto the couch next to Nino, grabbed a pillow, shoved it against her face, and screamed. “This nightmare is never going to end!”

“No, it’s the perfect plan. Marinette is the kind of girl who is too polite to ram her way into a conversation between two people. My girl has class, and she hates being a third wheel.” Ignoring the uncertainty, Alya stood her ground. “Trust me.

“Well, I still think it’s a longshot, but it doesn’t involve fire or glass this time, so I guess I’m in.” Alix pointed her index finger toward Alya. “But this is the last time. After tonight we have to let them figure it out on their own.”

“Fine.” Once again feeling her confidence grow, Alya smiled. “But it’s going to work this time.”

“Whatever you say!” Alix said with a flippant wave of her hand.

It was going to work.

It had to.

What could possibly go wrong?

***

CRASH

With an outstretched hand, Adrien watched a punch-covered Marinette spring from the couch, run into Alya’s bedroom, and slam the door behind her. Where had he gone wrong?

It had been exactly three months, seventeen days, two hours, and twenty-eight minutes since Marinette, the love of his life, had accidentally revealed her identity to Chat Noir.

Her words from that day replayed in his head like a broken record. “I fell in love with a boy who apologized by giving me an umbrella after I thought he put gum on my seat.”

When everything clicked into place, he couldn’t not tell her who he was. At least that’s what he had thought at the time.

Perhaps pulling her into an embrace, whispering her name into her ear, and detransforming was not the best way to handle the situation, but how was he supposed to know that she would react so negatively? Not only was he her loyal partner, but he was also her crush. It seemed like a win-win! Right?

Wrong.

If he had known that she was going to avoid him for months on end, he would have done things differently. But the past was in the past, and he could only hope for a better future. Marinette was his lady, his light, his love. How was he supposed to declare his love if she kept running away?

“Follow her,” Alya whispered into his ear, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“What’s the point?” Adrien wanted to cry. “She told me that she loves me, but I’m not so sure that she does anymore.”

“Wait!” Holding up a hand, Alya had silenced the room with one word. “You’re kidding! That’s what happened? That’s why my girls been wigging out for months?”

Careful to avoid talking about the other reveal from that night, Adrien continued. “Yeah. It was a few months ago. I don’t think she meant to tell me.”

“Did you reject her or something?”

“No, not at all! I was overjoyed when I found out, but she ran away before I could respond.”

“That explains so much.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Maybe I’m scaring her off or something? I don’t know. Can you help me?”

Taking a seat next to him, Alya put a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like me to talk to her first? I can try to calm her down enough for you to talk to her.”

Hope fluttered in his chest. “That would be great. Thank you so much!”

He had the best friends.

“Wait here, Sunshine.” She hopped off of the couch and disappeared into her bedroom.

It felt like hours before Alya finally returned with the go-ahead for him to enter the room. He hopped off the couch, approached the door, and gave a tentative knock. His heart did backflips when he heard the soft “come in” from the other side of the door.

He turned the knob, slowly peeked his head in, and scanned the room. His elation was quickly replaced by concern when his eyes landed on a teary and disheveled Marinette sitting on the edge of the bed.

Despite the towel wrapped around her shoulders, she was still soaking wet with red punch. She looked miserable, and Adrien wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything would be alright. But he was just here to talk.

Only talking.

For now.

“Hey,” he called out, closing the door behind him.

She sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Hi.”

He was pleasantly surprised when Marinette didn’t react as he crossed the room and took a seat next to her on the bed. So far so good.

Without thinking, his words tumbled out. “Marinette, we really need to talk.”

Her head shot up, and she turned to look at him. Her bottom lip trembled, and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked out, “I messed everything up!”

“What?” Adrien couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How?”

“Not only did I fail as Ladybug and reveal my identity, but I made everything awkward between us!”

“But you didn’t make anything awkward! I did!”

“No, it's my fault! Not yours. I’ve turned you down for two years because I was in love with you as a civilian. I ruined everything!”

“Oh, Marinette, no. Finding out about your crush was the greatest thing that ever happened to me...well, right after learning that my lady and the coolest girl I know are the same person.”

The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He nodded. “I love you, Marinette.”

“You do?”

“I love you so much, and I’ve been trying to tell you for months. I didn’t think I could love a person more than I loved Ladybug, and then she turned out to be you, and I’ve never been so happy to have been proven wrong.”

“And all this time, I thought you were going to get mad at me.”

“Mad at you? No! Not at all!” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m overjoyed, but you kept running away from me, and you split up our patrol routes. I thought you were mad at me for telling you that I figured out your identity.”

“You thought I was mad at you?” She sobbed into her hands. “This really is a disaster.”

Screw it.

He was in love with her.

He couldn’t let her sit there and cry.

In one swift motion, Adrien leaned over, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into an embrace. She momentarily stiffened before collapsing against his chest and continuing to cry.

Hoping to calm her down before any purple butterflies paid them a visit, Adrien rubbed her back with his palm. “I’m not mad. I promise. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Her voice was small and thick with tears, but they were the sweetest words he’d ever heard.

They sat in silence, allowing him to revel in the embrace. When Marinette eventually calmed down, she snuggled into his chest. It was a good thing that he wasn’t standing because if he had been, he would have definitely fallen over. She was so close and so beautiful. He could hardly contain his joy.

It was a beautiful moment that he wished could last forever...until she shivered.

Oh, right. She was covered in punch.

Here he was, enjoying the moment, letting his (hopefully) soon-to-be girlfriend freeze in wet clothes.

Refusing to let go, he rested his forehead against hers. “Hey, what do you say we get out of here?”

She shook her head. “But...it’s almost midnight, and I think Alya is expecting us to rejoin the party.”

“I think she’ll let it slide.” He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “After all, we wouldn’t want one of Paris’ heroes to get sick, right?”

Marinette giggled. “Yeah, okay.”

She was too cute.

The sound of her laughter was more beautiful than a symphony, and he would do anything to hear it again. He pulled her to her feet and laced his fingers between hers. They managed to leave the party without any qualms from their friends, and soon they found themselves standing on the sidewalk in the cold winter air.

When her teeth started chattering, his grip tightened around her hand before he quickly dragged her into an alley.

“Adrien!” she squeaked, “What are you doing?”

“Plagg, CLAWS OUT!” His transformation illuminated the space around them. “My lady, would you allow me the honor of escorting you home?”

She giggled again. “What’s gotten into you, you silly cat?”

He almost melted on the spot. She was going to kill him. Adrien was but a mere mortal. How was he supposed to survive if she kept being so freaking adorable?

“I’m taking you home the express route.” He held out his hand. “If you’ll let me, that is.”

She nodded and took a step toward him. Adrien swept her into his arms, knees nearly giving out when she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

All too soon, they touched down on her balcony; however, even after he lowered her feet to the ground, she didn’t let go.

Goodness, he was so in love.

“We should really get you inside,” he whispered, resting his hands on her waist. “You should put on some dry clothes.”

“Not yet.” She bit her lip as she looked up and met his gaze. “It was soaking wet when I fell in love with you, so it’s only fitting that I’m covered with punch when I do this.

He swallowed. “D-do what?”

Her hands cupped his face as she drew closer. “This.”

The world came to a screeching halt as her lips met his. Her fingers moved to the back of his head, deepening the kiss. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of and more. Her breath became his lifeline, his soul dreading the moment they had to part.

They smiled under the kiss, causing their teeth to clack and their noses to bump, but it was perfect nonetheless. This was his lady, the girl under the mask he swore he’d love no matter what.

When they pulled apart, they fell into a laughing heap on the ground. Cheers erupted around them as fireworks lit up the sky. It was as if the universe itself was celebrating with them.

“I guess that’s one way to ring in the New Year.” She turned her head towards the sky. “This year, we should definitely kiss like that every day.”

“I think that’s one resolution I can definitely keep.” He kissed her forehead. “And maybe we could even kiss more than once a day?”

“I’d like that.” She grabbed his bell and pulled him down to her level. “Let’s start now.”

Adrien was more than happy to oblige.

[bush-viper-cutie]

Midnight Stars Tree

Pairing: young!severus X reader

Word Count: 5,350

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot: Three days before the start of seventh year, you attend a yearly potions demonstration at a wizard hotel across the street from a wizard museum. Every student seventeen and older participate in a tradition where you skip the last demonstration to hide away in a secret spot in the museum with someone of your choosing.

Warnings: None

A/N: Requested by anon (exact request found at the bottom) and I hope you like it :D I really liked the story so it got a bit long but I hope there were enough cuddle scenes! So many cute types of cuddles to choose from so I included many XD

Posted: 7/16/20

Masterlist

—–

(L/n) = last name

—–

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

“Children! Gather around! Please!” Professor Slughorn waved a parchment over his head, trying to capture the attention of over a dozen excited students.

The hotel lobby was full of students from other wizarding schools. All also attending the yearly potions convention before the start of term where the world’s most notorious potions masters would brew together in the world’s largest cauldron.

Most students had clearly signed up just to travel and stay at a famous wizard hotel, away from Hogwarts and the other teachers. Everyone knew Slughorn was laid back enough to allow almost anything to happen. All-nighters? Wandering around the wizard museum after hours? Visiting the rooms of foreign wizards? He had a very agreeable reputation, Horace Sees-Nothing Slughorn.

You stood in the back with your friends, eager to get assigned your rooms. Thankfully, you were seventeen, which meant you’d guarantee room on the top floor where they put both girls and boys in together – separate rooms of course. Not like that stopped anyone.

“Alright, let’s not get distracted,” he laughed and put on his glasses. He unrolled the parchment and started listing off names and handing out golden glittering stones with numbers on them.

The youngest students were called on first, next the fifth years, sixth, and lastly seventh years. You were among the seventh years quickly ushered into the fireplace that would take you and your bags to the very top floor.

You stepped in and held your breath as the bright cold flames rose to your nose and whisked you away to the last floor. You exited and coughed the soot out of your lungs, quickly spotting your friend down the hall. It had begun. The frenzied ritual of finding out who was in the rooms across and to either side.

You took out the rock and walked ahead of your friend to the door with the same number and knocked with the rock. It swung open and a familiar scent of freshly washed sheets made you smile instantly. You left the door open and ran to the far bed, setting down your stuff as a form of first dibs.

“You won’t believe who’s across the hall!” your friend threw their bags down and jumped with excitement.

“Is it that tall Ravenclaw whose been eyeing you since last year? The one with the swooshy hair like ‘honey’?”

They laughed and jumped onto the bed, “Yes!”

Well, it looked like shenanigans were already scheduled for your friend for the weekend, but now the question was how would you join in on the fun? “So, did you see who else is around by any chance?”

“No one else worth talking about. OH. Except for that Snape guy. He’s to our left and rooming with Sirius Black! So you can guess how that’ll go. I bet Sirius will beg every girl on this floor, Hogwarts or not, to sleep in their room.”

“He’ll ask anyone alive just to get away from him.”

There was a knock at the door.

You sat up quickly and laughed, “That was fast!”

You opened the door with hips on your hands ready to slam the door in Sirius’ face. Your six other friends pushed through and flopped onto your bed, taking out the museum brochure and weekend plans.

“They have a Midnight Stars tree!”

“The crystal room has couches!”

“Did you see who was across your room!”

You sat on your friend’s bed and scanned the museum brochure. There were dozens of rooms perfect for what everyone was calling the ‘Secret Skip’, where for the final performance – the one where the world’s leading potioneers would brew the most complicated potion in the largest cauldron in the wizarding world at the same time – everyone from the top floor would skip and run to an available hidden spot with your chosen sweetheart.

You had two nights to find the spot and claim it and two days to find the perfect boy. “We’ll have to spread out and remember which rooms are a go and which are definitely no good.”

. . .

It was after dinner and Slughorn had already gone down every hall with Hogwarts students, knocking and telling everyone to go to bed. After a long day’s planning, your friends got up and left to their rooms, leaving you with the list of most to least romantic-sounding spots.

You changed into your night clothes and washed your teeth, ready to pass out from all the planning when a loud THUMP nearly knocked the signed and framed pillowcase off the wall over your bed.

“What are they doing! They’ll kill me if they keep going!”

Your friend shrugged and blew out their bedside candle, “Who cares. Just take the frame down.”

THUMP

The frame fell off the wall and onto your pillow, “I’m going over and yelling at them.”

“What! No!”

You opened the door and looked to either side, making sure Slughorn wasn’t still walking around. It was empty and the few floating candles illuminated either end well enough to satisfy your concern. You turned and knocked on their door hard enough to indicate your anger.

THUMP

You knocked again and the door cracked open.

Sirius smiled at you and opened the door further, “Ah. What can I do for you so late into the night?”

You frowned and pushed passed him, marching inside ready to tell them off. You gasped instead, seeing articles of clothing thrown around the room and a bed fully tipped over towards the door, pillow shredded in two.

“What happened! You trash your room already?”

THUMP

Your head shot up towards the tall wardrobe where the noise was coming from, “Is that a boggart?”

“It is, so best not to open it up,” Sirius motioned for the door.

“Where’s your roommate?” you made your way over to the wardrobe and hovered your hand over the handle.

Sirius put his hands up quickly, “Oh, he wet his trousers and went home. Slimy git couldn’t contain his excitement.” THUMP “Told me he actually came for the demonstration,” he laughed.

You scoffed and pulled on the handle. Snape tumbled out nearly knocking you over. You caught his elbows and helped him but quickly pushed him away as soon as he was steady.

Sirius laughed, “Oh, there you are.”

Snape bared his teeth at Sirius, “I’m telling! Wait till Slughorn finds out you and your friends are planning to break into the museum across the street! He’ll send you packing.”

“Try it, Snivelly!”

Your eyes widened, “Wait! You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Snape pushed passed you towards the door, standing as tall as possible in an attempt to match Sirius’ height.

You pulled him back by his robes, “Wait please!”

“Snivellus is just upset he’ll be sitting with the babies.” Sirius held out his wand, standing taller, “Maybe I’ll just turn you into a weasel for the weekend, since you already act like one, eh Snivelly? Where’s your wand?”

Snape jumped back, realizing his wand was not on him and instead laying at the door to the restroom.

You stepped forward, holding out your hands, “Stop it, Sirius.” You turned to Snape, “Please don’t tell. You’ll ruin the weekend for everyone on this floor.”

“How? By making you attend the demonstration you signed up to see? Get over yourself. I’d only be ruining the weekend for you dull ‘populars’ with nothing better to do than commit crimes. What you’re doing is stupidly reckless.”

You crossed your arms and tried to not be offended by his words, “We’re just having fun, Snape.”

“He’s a lost cause, (L/n). He’s just mad no one’ll take him.”

“AM NOT,” Snape growled.

“You just don’t know how fun it’s supposed to be. What if you hang out with me and we go exploring together? Join me while we scope out the museum,” you kept your eyes on Snape as Sirius laughed at your offer.

“What, YOU’LL take him? Are you mad?”

Snape shook his head confused. He was always the type to question everything, “What do you mean?”

You gave him your best smile, “Saturday and Sunday night walk around with me, after the day’s demonstrations. It’ll be fun. And if you still want to tell on us and make us all sit through Monday morning’s demonstration then… Fine.”

“I’m not hearing this,” Sirius rubbed his eyes.

Snape looked into your eyes, his scowl slowly lowered and he finally spoke, “I don’t see the point.”

“But you’ll join me anyways? Just to look around?” You could tell it wasn’t working, he seemed as distant and unapproachable as always. Ready to turn everyone who wasn’t his friends down.

“Snivelly’s too scared to. I’m not though. I’ll gladly – ”

For a second his eyes flicked to Sirius. “Alright,” his voice was low and spiteful.

You nodded and turned to leave, quickly looking at Sirius first, “If you do ANYTHING to make him tell, I’M telling everyone YOU ruined this.”

You marched to the door and exited the room. The hall was still empty and quiet and very few lights were seeping under doors now. You knocked on your own door and hoped your friend hadn’t fallen asleep yet. You were so mad you forgot you needed the rock to get back in.

They opened the door immediately and pulled you in, “I heard everything! You’re really going to hang out with him?”

You shrugged, “He can’t tell if he broke in too. Besides, it’s just to find my spot and claim it.”

“But what about finding someone! No one’s going to talk to you with Snape hanging around like a dark cloud.”

You sighed and yawned, “I’ll figure something out during the demonstrations tomorrow.”

. . .

Students were slowly and quietly filing out of their rooms with wands held brightly in front of them, down to the end of the hall with the fireplace. You left your room and waved at your friend as they walked on without you. You knocked on the door to your left and tapped your foot impatiently.

“Snape!” you whispered.

The door opened and Snape poked his head out and looked around before stepping out, “This is a bad idea. If you had any sense at all you’d go back to bed.”

You smiled amused, “Then why are you joining me?”

He glared down at you but didn’t speak.

Did Snape actually want to break into the museum for fun? You held back a laugh, “Come on, we didn’t spend all day listening to some ghost squeal about historical artifacts for nothing. Slughorn is fast asleep after the boring day and we are going to go have fun.”

You reached passed him and closed his door for him before walking down the deserted hall. Snape’s unsure steps followed.

. . .

One of the museum janitors – apparently some guy that had graduated Hogwarts twenty years ago – had left the side door open for the students and guarded it with a tall staff and a mop. The museum entrance was silent, but out in the distance bouncing lights could be seen, deep into the beast exhibit.

You pulled out your pamphlet and ran your finger down all the starred spots you had called dibs on among your friends. The closest spot was the botanical gardens named ‘Satanical Botanicals’.

“Follow me,” you led the way through a long passageway made of rocks that made your hairs stand on end with electricity.

“People shouldn’t be in here without a guide. All these plants are toxic and poisonous,” Snape dodged a purple-fanged jug plant as it tried to dig into his shoulder.

“Not true, that one was neither,” you giggled.

There were four benches located in the gardens and two were in use by a couple of Hufflepuffs. You walked around to the first bench and saw it was among a snaring prickle vine. The last one was surrounded by whispering wisterias hanging low off the branches. The gardens were dark after closing time and the light purple flowers hummed and glowed faintly.

“This is a good spot,” you sat down at the bench and looked around at the flower bunches swaying. “Romantic.”

“Sure, if you want to be put to sleep and pass out in the dirt,” he pressed his hair down over his ears.

You stood up quickly just as a yawn came over you, “I’ll just cross this one out… Next spot.”

The Midnight Stars tree was across the museum and there was only one way through to it. The corridor was dark with lights only seen out of the corner of your eyes. You stood at the entrance and looked in, trying to spot something in the dark.

“We shouldn’t go through there,” Snape stepped back.

“We’ll run. Easy and fast,” you folded up your brochure and stuffed it in your pocket.

You took a step in, then another, looking back and hoping Snape was following you in. He wasn’t big or intimidating, not by his build at least, but his presence did have a slightly calming effect, or, the knowledge that he knew far more hexes than anyone at school calmed you down.

He glanced at you briefly before stepping in after you. Cold white mist surrounded your ankles and shrieks of pain sounded in the distance. You took off running, Snape still behind, and almost tripped as red flames burst to your right and a white translucent hand shot up to grab you. You jerked away and fell forward out of the corridor, tripping Snape.

“Watch it!”

“Sorry! I-I got spooked,” you stood up and held out your hand to help him up.

He ignored it and stood, dusting himself off, “I’m going in first next time. They can’t touch you. Read the brochure.”

The Midnight Stars tree was standing tall, it’s branches spanning the tall ceiling and walls and lantern flowers blooming full force in the dark. There was no need for windows or floating candles for this room. It was well illuminated in the room by itself. No one had made it this far, likely because of the grotesque corridor of ghosts of burning witches.

“This is perfect!” You ran up to the tree and spun around, admiring the way the flower petals swayed like real fire. “Give me a lift?”

“I’m not getting on my hands and knees for you,” the flowers illuminated in his dark eyes like flames, making them seem deeper like an endless hall of shadows.

He seemed very stubborn and quick to judge, “That’s not what I meant, just… give me a boost. Please?”

The please seemed to melt him slightly, just enough to at least consider it. He looked up at the closest branch and stepped onto the soft grass towards you. He uncrossed his arms and laced his long fingers together and stood unsure beside you. His eyes snapped to yours as you put your hand on his shoulder to lower him down to your height.

You wiped your shoe on the grass and put it in his hands, placing both hands on his shoulders and looked up at the closest branch. It was only a few feet above your reach and a swift boost should do the trick. You turned back and gasped softly, not expecting him to be so close. His nose only an inch from yours.

“Just do it,” he murmured.

You nodded and pushed off, reaching high for the branch. Snape’s fingers unclasped and your foot pushed through, knocking you down onto him. You screamed and fell forward, knocking him to the ground. His arms had automatically tried to latch onto you as an attempt to stabilize himself. You opened your eyes, glad to not be in any pain and realized he was still holding you as you laid on him. He groaned and opened his eyes.

You pushed up and sat, pressing your hands to your lips, “Are you ok? I’m sorry!”

His kept his hands on your hips and looked up at you, nodding slowly. “My hands were sweaty and… Sorry.”

You noticed his cheeks were turning a deep red and slowly spreading across his nose as his embarrassment rose. His hair spread out on the grass below and a ladybug walked over the sea of black, the lights reflected in its shiny yellow spots. You swung your leg and fell back onto the grass, feeling his hands leave your side.

“Thanks for trying to catch me,” you smiled and looked down, feeling your own blush spread over your face. You hadn’t expected to ever be so close to him, let alone fall into his arms. Fall into Snape’s arms and to be held firmly by his soft hands.

He sat up and pulled his legs in, wrapping his arms around himself and looked down at the ground at the little bug that had fallen off his hair. “I didn’t mean to… I mean, I didn’t do it on purpose – let you fall. It just happened.”

You giggled and plucked some grass, “My hero. Thanks for giving me a safe landing.”

He looked over and a tiny smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. His hard edges smoothed, and his normal aggressive demeanor vanished. It almost seemed like the Snape that walked the halls of Hogwarts with a scowl and stone-cold eyes had cracked just enough to let light into his dark eyes. His lips looked as soft and smooth as his voice felt.

His smile dropped suddenly, and he stood, “We should go.”

You nodded and followed him through the dark corridor, averting your eyes from the pained faces of the ghosts. There were still students roaming the museum, but you still followed Snape back into the hotel. You opened your room door without another word to him as he entered his own room.

. . .

“Last night to mark your spot,” your friend reminded you as they headed out of your room to join the other students.

All day you had been chancing glances at Snape, and you could swear he had been chancing glances at you too. Whatever happened under the Midnight Stars Tree last night had changed something in you. Snape was no longer some classmate who you were vaguely aware existed.

Since finding yourself inches from his face you hadn’t stopped thinking of him all day. The way his eyes seemed to glow, the way his pink lips curled, and the slightest hint of laugh lines appeared on his face. Every time you had caught his eyes just as he looked away made you blush and smile. You had looked at your hands and bit your lips trying not to look like a fool in love. Because you weren’t. But maybe, you did have a small little crush on ‘that Snape guy’.

You stood from your bed and checked the mirror to make sure you looked ok in the outfit – the one that you had brought for specifically ‘Secret Skip’ which was tomorrow. “What am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and headed out the door.

You knocked on Snape’s door and waited, rocking back and forth on your toes and heels with your hands folded in front of you. No one answered the door. You knocked again. Nothing.

“Snape? You’re still hanging out with me… yeah?”

There was a rustle coming from inside and Snape opened the door. He looked you up and down slowly and then out towards the ends of the hall.

“I won’t tell, alright? Your threat made Sirius leave me alone – surprisingly – so you can just go pick your spot or whatever with all your other friends. You don’t have to hang out with me.”

You bit your lip and smiled, “They’d all be too afraid to go through that corridor with me. I’d feel safer if I was with you.”

He kept his eyes on the end of the hall, but his lips tugged into a slight smile of amusement, “If you prefer.”

. . .

The museum seemed a bit more rambunctious now, with students running from place to place trying to get to their spots before the next. There were hushed laughter and whispered arguments echoing through every exhibit. Except for the Midnight Stars Tree room.

“You said you’d go first, remember?” you pushed on his back slightly, feeling him lean back into your push.

He sighed, “Fine…” He took out his wand and held it up as he started forward.

You followed close behind and kept your eyes on his robes as you ran, ignoring the bursting flames to either side. You both came out the other end without tripping over each other.

“Don’t think you have to mark your spot, considering no one’s even been here.”

You shrugged and walked forward, “Just in case.”

You took your wand and traced your room number on the lower part of the trunk, watching the numbers glow gently. You turned back and sat down next to Snape, incredibly aware of how close your hands were to his – until he moved.

“Should we leave now then?” he bent his head over his knees, resting on his chin.

“Your name’s Severus, right?”

He shifted his head to rest on his cheek, nodding carefully.

“The grass is soft, isn’t it?” Your attempt at small talk was laughable.

He nodded and placed his hands back down next to yours, looking down to make sure they never touched. You laid back on the soft grass and smiled when he joined, your inner hands still almost touching.

“Your… outfit looks nice.”

You bit your lip trying not to smile and giggle at his compliment. Severus Snape liked what you were wearing? “Do… you think it’s cute?” Were you pushing it?

He nodded slowly and his hand inched closer by only a few grassy blades. You did the same and felt your pinky brush up against his. The next second his hand was over yours and you were turning your palm up for him. His hand was soft and warm, wrapping around yours perfectly. Each slender finger fit between yours and held you as firmly as when you had fallen onto him the night before.

You lifted his arm with your intertwined hand and slid closer to him, so that your arms were tucked cozily between you as your head rested on his shoulder. You held your breath waiting for a response and felt his cheek rest on your head. You breathed in and noticed his clothes still smelled like the potions classrooms and giggled quietly, wondering if he had been brewing during the few days stay at the hotel.

You let go of his hand and pushed it away, choosing instead to lean on his body and place your arm over him. He wrapped his arm around you and pushed you closer, holding you to him as if you’d suddenly run away. You held him just as tight.

Your hand slid from his side to his chest, feeling the way his chest rose with every breath. His fingertips traced the length of your arm and then brushed through your hair gently. It was relaxing laying there under the glowing flowers that looked like dancing flames in the sky. Your knee rested on his thigh and just like that you were the most comfortable you’ve ever been.

You stayed like that for several minutes, shyly enjoying each other until you heard Sirius’ voice from the other side of the corridor of ghosts.

“(L/n)!”

You stood quickly and stepped away from Severus, knowing Sirius would just love catching the two of you together like that.

Sirius burst through the darkness and looked back as another boy came through right behind him. You recognized the other boy. A Hufflepuff with emerald green eyes and who was known as the third best looking boy in the school by many. You were surprised to find him walking besides Sirius, considering he was rarely seen with anyone other than his own Quidditch team.

“(L/n), finally found you,” Sirius smiled. He looked down at Severus sitting on the grass and arched his brow. “Since you’ve been taking one for the team, having to put up with Snivelly for two nights I thought I’d do you a favor.”

“I don’t need anything from you.” You noticed Severus slowly backing away.

Sirius placed his hand on the Hufflepuff’s shoulder, “I insist. So here.”

The Hufflepuff opened his arms in defeat and winked at you, “I see you’ve picked this spot. So why don’t I join you here tomorrow?”

This was a test, an all too obvious one. If you said no then Sirius would accuse you of having asked Severus, a rumor that was sure to spread fast. The fact it would be Sirius spreading it gave you chills, knowing he could be ruthless at times and who knew what he would say.

“Sure,” you glanced back at where Severus stood last but did not see him.

Sirius looked around too, “Well it’s settled then.”

Severus was nowhere in sight. You smiled politely, “I’ll meet you here then.”

You walked around them and headed into the corridor, running as fast as you could. You couldn’t spot Severus anywhere as you searched from the corridor exit to the front of the museum. He was gone.

. . .

Wizards from all over the world were filing into the auditorium to watch the big demonstration. A giant cauldron stood on the stage where four old wizards in different color robes prepared their ingredients. All the Hogwarts students were sitting in the very back behind Slughorn and the fourth years. Severus sat two rows behind you and avoided eye contact completely as you had found your seat.

The demonstration began and the lights dimmed. Everyone sat quietly and the second the old wizards started dropping things into the sizzling liquid, all the Hogwarts students from floor seven stood and made their way out. You followed your friend and stopped at the door, careful not to be spotted by the Hufflepuff boy with emerald green eyes. He wasn’t even looking for you.

All the back rows were almost empty, except for Severus and a few other students. You made your way down again and sat next to him in the empty chair to his right. He turned and stared at you in confusion. He crossed his arms and sunk into his chair.

The crowd cheered as the smoke turned pink. You extended your hand, hoping he’d know what you meant and take it. He turned and shook his head, his black hair swaying over his shoulder.

You leaned in, “Severus, please? I only agreed so that Sirius would leave us alone. I want to be here with you, enjoying the demonstration. Like you wanted. I was never going to join him.”

He sat unmoving.

You couldn’t see his face and wished desperately to be back under the Midnight Stars tree. You touched his fingers and pulled them out from under his arm, holding his hand tight, “Forgive me?”

His fingers wrapped around your hand and Severus turned back, nodding with the same small smile as normal, “Ok.”

The demonstration went on and you couldn’t help but hug his arm and lean into him. The demonstration was the same boring one as previous years but sitting there was worth it, especially when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in.

Your hand rested on his knee as you snuggled closer and his arm around your shoulder slid down around your waist. His other hand reached over and held your hand tight as it rested on his knee. His thumb rubbed your skin back and forth like gentle soothing waves.

You closed your eyes and imagined belonging to him and only him. They way he held you felt so right and it didn’t matter where the two of you were, it was just as relaxing. It felt perfect being with him, in the darkness of the theater and under the tree. Severus Snape was everything you wanted.

. . .

The demonstration as over, ending in booming claps and loud whistled cheers. Everyone stood and made their way outside where the other students were already waiting. Slughorn was none the wiser and herded everyone back to the hotel lobby.

Your friends had pulled you aside and told you every juicy detail, and luckily never bothered to ask you about your morning. They knew something was up with you and “that Snape guy” and had the decency not to push passed your walls. The rest of the morning involved packing and before you could say anything to Severus, he had Flooed away.

. . .

The Hogwarts Express arrived and students were filing out, eager to get in the large carriages that took them up to the school. You looked around again, and finally spotted a bobbing black head with sleeked lank hair. You pushed passed the crowd and pulled on his robes.

“Severus! Hi,” you smiled.

His black eyes looked on towards the carriages, “(L/n).” His voice was sharp and cold.

You frowned and waited for the last few stragglers to get in a carriage before speaking again. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something? I thought yesterday was nice, but you left so fast.”

He pulled on the sleeves of his robes and looked down, “You could have said no to him. You could have asked me… I thought you were going to ask me… I wanted you to.”

He looked sad but you weren’t sure what to say. “I thought you wanted to see the demonstration. That’s why you signed up… Sirius would have spread rumors – ”

He stared at you intensely and frowned, hurt plainly visible in his glistening eyes, “Yeah. Everyone would have known you liked me. How awful that would have been.”

He scoffed and made his way to a packed carriage. You made your way to one of the empty ones and sighed, hating the way his lips had trembled.

. . .

It was a week after term had started and dozens of students were enjoying the last few days of summer outside in the courtyard. A light breeze blew that carried laughter throughout. There were groups of friends spread out in every spot. Your group consisted of all your friends and added acquaintances, chattering away about their summers in the far corner next to a group of Gryffindors.

Severus sat hunched on a bench, ignored by everyone as he read and tried to keep his page as the wind blew. His head was hung low and his hair blocked the light from hitting his book, his finger ran across the pages tracing the words.

You looked around and sighed. You jumped down from the low stone wall and made your way over to Severus. You didn’t think he’d notice your shadow since his book was already shrouded in darkness, but he did. He looked up and tilted his head, unsure of your intentions in such a crowded space.

“Can I do something?”

He looked around at the eyes that had started to stare, “Um… s-sure?”

You pushed his book away and stepped between his legs and sat on his thigh. You hooked your arm around his neck and kissed his cheek. His arms wrapped around your waist instinctively and held you carefully. His pale face flushed pink and a wide smile spread across his face as you pulled your lips away.

Within seconds a few Slytherins came over – a part of the gawking crowd moments before. His friends sat around, bewildered by what they were seeing.

“Severus? When did this happen?”

Severus was about to open his mouth when you answered first, “Yesterday.”

Severus shrugged nonchalantly and squeezed you closer, “Told you guys to go.”

You laughed and nuzzled his cheek with your nose, loving the way he bit his lip to stop from smiling too big. You played with his hair as you sat on his lap and joined in the retelling of how it came to be.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

Request: “may I request a young sev x reader where they cuddle 🥺🥺 pretty please?” - Anon

[buckysgoldenheart]

F-Buds: Seb Stan x Reader

Summary: You and Seb are friends with benefits and Seb has had enough.

Words: 2345

Warnings: Cursing some. Not proofread. 

Your fist pounded hard against the door belonging to the one person you could turn to in your moment of need after an undesirable crisis.

“Seb, open up!” Slow footsteps could be heard on the other side of the wood panel and you groaned loud at his lack of haste. “Seb, seriously, open the damn door!”

Your clenched hand paused mid-air as the door swung open to reveal your disheveled friend. He rubbed his eyes with one hand as the other ran through tousled locks.

“Finally!” You said, throwing your hands up and slipping past him into his large apartment. You tossed your purse on the couch as Seb closed the door, his body still half asleep.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked, finally meeting your Y/E/C eyes that held nothing but frustration, though not intended for him. No, your anger was directed toward the man you had spent hours, hours, with only for him to leave you alone by the end of the night, sexually unsatisfied. He was a rare man looking for commitment which was not something you were ready to give.

“It’s 2 a.m. Are you aware of that?” Seb said, folding his arms across a solid, bare chest, finally taking in the full view of you. “Well, look who’s all dolled up. Big date?”

“Oh, shut up.” You groaned at his sarcastic tone. “You know I wouldn’t be here at this hour if my night went the way I wanted it to. Seriously, when did men start wanting relationships? Isn’t it supposed to be all sex, sex, sex with you guys?”

Seb rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess it depends on the people and, ya know, timing.”

“Timing.” You scoffed as you slipped out of your jacket and set it over the back of a barstool. “One of those things desperate people make up to make themselves feel better about getting dumped.”

Seb rolled his eyes and puffed out a breath.

“’Oh, well, he was nice, but the timing wasn’t quite right.’” You said in your best ‘ditsy girl’ voice. “AKA, ‘he dumped me and broke my heart, but I’m not gonna tell you bitches that.’”

“Why are you so cynical? God Y/N, do you ever want to find someone?” Seb asked as he watched you kick off your skyscraper heels.

“I’m not going to go scan the city with a metal detector so I can settle for some scrap of a man just to say that I have one.”

Arms still crossed, Seb leaned against a wall and watched you place your heels by your bag. “Yea, well what if there was a man that really cared about you, but you brushed him off because you didn’t give him a chance?”

Your face pinched. “That’s stupid.”

“Oh, really? Because you go around looking for men to fuck, and even when they want you for more than your body you completely shut them down. Then you come running to me to satisfy you.”

You whipped your head to his at the judgement. “So, what?”

“So, what? Y/N, you’re scared of love, of even the possibility of love and it hurts me to see you go through life like that.”

“I’m not fucking scared, Seb. Don’t be ridiculous.” You whined, then after a few seconds of silence between you, smiled your best suggestive smile and swayed your hips as you strutted over to blue-eyed man.

He held your eyes with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, but he portrayed no emotion at your behavior.

“C’mon Seb, I don’t want to have this conversation. Can’t we just kiss and have our amazing sex and just call it a night? I’m stressed and I need release. I need you.”

Seb wasn’t grabbing you. He wasn’t holding you close to his body or making any move to kiss your lips. He just stood there while you hanged off him, his arms at his sides as you pouted.

He sucked in a deep breath and you instantly got excited for him to give in to you and make a damn move. A smile replaced your pout as you felt his hands graze your hips before trailing up the length of your dress, along your curves until he made his way to the arms clinging to him. Rough palms grasped firmly on your forearms.

Slowly, he untangled your limbs and placed them back at your sides, holding them there for an extra second to make sure they stayed in place before releasing you and taking a step back.

“No,” He sighed, struggling on the word. “I can’t.”

“What?”

Seb sucked in a breath and swallowed. “I can’t—I can’t keep doing this with you. It’s not…fair anymore.”

You crossed your arms and planted yourself steady, your posture straight like a wall ready to block out the coming assault. “Fair to whom exactly, Seb?”

A dead chuckle shot out of his mouth, stinging your ears. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“What!”

“God, Y/N!” He nearly shouted, fisting his hands in his dark brown hair. “I let this go on for too long. I really did. I only allowed it in the first place because the woman I’m in love with threw herself at me, repeatedly, claiming that I was the only one that could satisfy her. I didn’t have the willpower to tell you no, to ask for anything more from you because I knew you would end what little we had.

“I was stupid, and weak, and I’ve wanted you so bad for so long and I felt like I finally had a piece of you, but that’s not enough anymore. It’s time for me to step back from this, because otherwise I’m gonna go insane.”

His heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard throughout the apartment now. That, and the agonizing pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. “You love me?”

Seb scoffed and crossed his arms, the muscles budging more, it seemed, than an average humans should. “You fucking knew that.”

“No, Seb, I didn’t.” God, if you had known…

“Just go.”

“What?” You recoiled as if he had hit you, tears stinging your eyes.

“Just…please, Y/N, I can’t, just go.”

  -----------------------------------------------------------------

Next Day:

 You groaned around your ice cream spoon at the knock on your door. You didn’t want to deal with anyone; at this hour, it would most likely be the old bat next door who always complained when your TV volume exceeded five. If she knew what was good for her she’d turn herself right around and go back to that doily museum she calls an apartment. God, you were mean when you were hurting, but who disturbs someone fifteen minutes before midnight anyway? It’s the time when the most miserable of people binge-watch brain-cell-killing reality TV and eat cookie dough ice cream topped with full snickers bars and m&ms. What asshole would dare interrupt that?

Yea, you weren’t answering that door. Or, you wouldn’t, if whoever was on the other side would leave you in miserable peace.

“Agnes!” You yelled as you harshly set the ice cream carton on the coffee table and walked to the entryway. “If you go away now, I’ll turn the volume down to a respectable seven, but that’s it!”

You waited a moment to hear if the tiny old lady’s footsteps would retreat, but then the knock came again. At the sound, you huffed out a deep breath and whipped the door open. “Son of a bitch.”

“Who is Agnes,” Seb asked. “And why does she deserve the hard end of your wrath?”

Somehow the frown on your face grew deeper at the casual nature of the joke. “Don’t worry about my relationship with Agnes, ok? Just mind your own business,” You snapped, then turned on your heel and went back to the couch.

“Ok,” Seb started, “You didn’t slam the door in my face so I’m going to assume that I’m allowed inside of the apartment.” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “Is this a fair assumption?”

Without looking at him and his annoyingly handsome face, you grabbed the carton and began to dig in again, then made a small noise that neither agreed nor disagreed with what he said. You couldn’t decide if you had made a mistake once he finally entered your apartment and shut the door behind him. When he chose to block your view of the awful reality show, you realized you definitely had.

You took another bite of your dessert. “I don’t know if you know this, but you make a better door than you do a window.”

“I do know that,” He said, sloughing off his leather jacket, tossing it next to you on the couch, and aggressively rolling up his long sleeves just above the elbow.

“What, are you gonna fight me?”

“Depends on whether or not you plan to actually listen to what I have to say.”

You pretended to contemplate for a minute, staring him down as you continued to eat more snickers. “My boxing gloves aren’t here, so rain check on the fight.”

“Alright.” He groaned, then took the remote off the table and clicked off your show.

“Hey!” Seb held the remote out of your reach then turned and threw it through the open door of your bedroom. “Are you fucking with me?”

Seb walked closer to you and bent down at the waist, planting is arms either side of your body on the couch and forcing your eyes to meet his. You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke. “You are going to listen.”

“Oh, yea?” Your eyebrows rose and you crossed your arms in the small space between your bodies.

“Yea.”

Your eyes remained locked as you moved to stand, not caring that his body was blocking yours and so forcing him to lean back until he stood tall in front of you. “So, you just get to be the biggest hypocrite in the world, do you? You get to get mad at me then force me out of your place when I try to talk to you, and now you come over here and demand I listen to you speak?”

“…Yes.”

Your shook your head and rolled your eyes, then went for the kitchen. He followed. Grabbing a soda out of the fridge and opening it, you said, “Alright, fine then. Go for it.” You took a sip.

Seb’s eyes widened a bit as if he didn’t expect to easily persuade you, but they settled back into determination. “Ok, look, I know asking you to leave—”

“Yelling at me to leave.”

“Fine. I know that yelling at you to leave was a dick move, but…” Seb paused and stepped towards you. You head jerked back at his sudden movement, but your body remained planted in its spot. “I didn’t expect to get so upset, ok?” He said. “Well no, that’s not true. I knew I’d be upset. I got pissed every single time you only came to me for sex, but I didn’t think I would lash out. It’s just…it’s been a year.”

He sounded exhausted and you finally understood. You finally saw just how long you had been in denial, and how long you had been hurting more than just yourself. You looked away and to the blue tiles of your kitchen floor. Seb grabbed your hand and you jumped a little at how fast he managed to move to you. “Look at me,” he whispered and squeezed your fingers. With his free hand he took the soda out of yours and put it on the counter, then grabbed that hand as well. “Y/N.”

You took a deep breath and met his eyes. “Seb…”

“I’m sorry.” He dropped your hands and placed his own on your cheeks, brushing away the tears that began to fall at some point. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s ok, Seb.” You cut him off. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I didn’t think I was. I knew what I was doing to myself, but if I thought I was making you feel the same, I never would’ve—”

Sebs eyebrows pinched together. “Doing to yourself?”

“What?”

“What exactly were you doing to yourself?”

You flinched and sighed. As you tried to lower your eyes, Seb’s grip on your face held firm. “Damn it,” You whispered to yourself, then said to him, “Why do you think I keep coming back to you every chance I get; why nothing ever works out with these other men? I tried it, finding someone else to sleep with so I could stop torturing myself, but it never worked. At the end of every date, I turned them down just so I had an excuse to be with you.”

Seb’s jaw dropped and after enough agonizing seconds of silence, you brushed his hands off your face. Deciding to keep your ice cream from further melting, you moved around Seb’s body, but he turned and grabbed you around the forearm. “What exactly are you saying?”

“It’s not clear?”

“No.”

You shifted your body back in front of his. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

He smirked then. “I said it to you. It’s only fair.”

You rolled your eyes and ran a hand through your messy strands. “You know I’m not good at this stuff.”

Somehow, he got closer to you. “Yea, I do.” He placed his hands on the sides of your neck and stroked the edges of your jaw with his thumbs. “I can wait. I have absolutely nowhere to be.”

“Oh, really? You have nowhere to be at midnight on a Tuesday? I’m shocked.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine,” You sighed, closed your eyes for a moment, then looked at him. “I love you.”

Seb smiled and touched his forehead to yours long enough for you to smile as well and place your hands on his chest. “I love you, too,” He said, then tilted your head back and touched his lips to yours.

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[dropsofletters]

diamond in the rough

title: diamond in the rough pairing: wong yukhei/reader genre: jewelry store worker!au/unrequited love!au/one night stand!au summary: impatient, hilariously natural and unfathomably himself, wong yukhei knows better than hiding behind shy smiles and soft flirtations. much to his delight, one of his boring days at the jewelry store is changed when someone enters—someone he finds attractive. while trying to keep the conversation alive, his flame is dulled by the trickiest of personalities, a fire that burns brighter than he ever will. yukhei is also exceptionally stubborn, promising himself that he will be able to seduce the woman with the sun necklace. things do not turn out so easy for him. type: fluff/romance/humor word count: 12,570 ⚠️ disclaimer: this is part of the love diaries, my valentine’s day project with wayv, if you want to read the rest of the members’ stories, you can click here and find the masterlist for it.

His height has always worked to his favor. Towering over a variety of people, he gets to see the love-struck gazes couples give themselves, and he also gets to see the arrogance imprinted in most of those people’s faces when they pick the most expensive ring in the entirety of the jewelry store. In the palm of his own big hands, rings looked like a miniscule thing to give to someone—let alone hold meaning to love, but something about the jewel keeps pulling people together, and he is more than happy to get to work every day. Perhaps because the glistening lights on top of the necklaces always caught his attention, maybe because he needs to pay rent, or because Valentine’s Day is coming up, thus this time around he gets to see more clients, all terribly in love.

The glass counters have to be impeccably clean, squeaky enough after people run their fingertips across it to point at the jewel they like. Not that he minds that much, Yukhei knows better than spending most of his time cleaning when he should be attending clients, but his coworker—Mrs. Li—seeks for utter perfection. The short, old woman, could barely kneel down to get to the lowest counter, leaving the tall man to work on scrubbing the glass as if his life depended on it.

“There’s a spot there, Yukhei. Get it off, please?”

An ancient relic out of a museum from two centuries ago, she most likely is, and probably a bit out of her head, but Mrs. Li has always treated Yukhei as if he was her son. Unfortunately, she likes her children to be workaholics, leading him to doing the most in the spacious shop. Most of the time, Yukhei thinks of it as a nice thing—it is distracting enough for him to fix his sleeping schedule by going home completely tired at the end of the shift, and also, he gets preaches from his boss for his hard work. Sure, it is not the type of dream Yukhei had for his life when he turned twenty—but hey, he never really had a dream to start with.

“What spot?” Yukhei’s wide eyes inspect the place, brown hair sleeked back, white button up rolled up until it rested on his elbows. The bad part of his job is that he has to dress to the nines, always looking like one of those dolls over a wedding cake.

Mrs. Li taps the counter with her foot. “That one.” Wiping quickly, the woman puckers up her lips. “No, it’s still there.”

The young man lifts the woman’s foot, placing the cloth under it before lifting his body from the floor. His arm wraps around her shoulders, making sure that she doesn’t fall in case she loses her balance. Sure, Mrs. Li is as active as a woman on her sixty-five years of age can get, but he wants to avoid any accidents. “Wipe it with your foot, since I can’t really see it.”

Her foot moves, gliding over the same spot he had just cleaned and it just screams Mrs. Li’s style. Always thinking she is on the right. “Seriously, Yukhei. Your eyesight is terrible for having such big eyes, boy. Get a pair of glasses before you end up ruining them forever—”

The sound of her voice mixes with his chuckle, mainly because he finds it interesting, but when he lifts his gaze to look around the shop, he is welcomed by the sight of a customer. Different from the rest of their clients, the black cardigan that falls upon her shoulders is not snug, neither does it look like it is the most expensive thing in the world. Underneath, a simple combination of clothing highlighted something Yukhei was very pleased to see. Looking at her face is another way of making him smile, her fingers grazing across the counter he had cleaned earlier, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when everything about her exudes the type of beauty he likes. The one that has him taking a second glance, with features that he would never be able to erase from his head.

Surely, maybe he should keep helping Mrs. Li…but he needs to attend customers, and that is just the rules of any job. When he nears the woman, she is looking at the necklaces; not even the cheapest ones, with tiny diamonds or with faux materials, instead, she looks at those with beautiful pendants and real gold. With her bottom lip taken in between her teeth, Yukhei takes a good look at her face, somber and dark, still so beautiful.

He just has to take a chance.

“Anything I can help you with?” The woman looks up at him, eyes becoming constellations the moment she gives him a glance. Something about her is vintage, like the movies he sees on TV when the midnight is starting to fall upon him, and even her silence screams elegance.

“I’m just looking for now.” Her voice, home of seriousness, says those words with the weakest of smiles. Any other person would have taken this as a sign to back off, but Yukhei is impatient and never gives up on what he wants.

“You know, we have varieties of prices and styles on necklaces. You’re looking at the most expensive ones right now, but we can look for anything you want.” His eyes trail down her neck to see the mole that peaks from beneath her shirt and the Canon camera that rests upon her chest. Her fingers stop touching the counter, instead settling her gaze over his to give him a solemn expression. She’s listening, yet she’s not saying anything. “L—Like, I think gold would look really good on you. It matches your skin-tone, and it’s very elegant.” His deep voice drops at that, elbow leaning against the counter to give her one of those charming smiles of his. If it works on everyone else, it should work on her, too. “I’m here to help you out, beautiful. What you want, we’ll find it—”

An amused, short chuckle kisses her mouth, looking at Yukhei as if he has two heads. “You talk a lot.” And, still, she always goes to the point. It is the first thing Yukhei learns about her.

“Only to people I want to talk to.”

“Great.” She muses, eyes looking up and down his features. “What would you recommend me for a necklace?”

Yukhei’s wide, youthful eyes scan the portrayed jewels under his gaze, scanning the pendants and the humongous diamonds. In reality, with how casual she is dressed and how intelligent she sounds, he needs to find a ground that stands in between. “Anything would look gorgeous on you.” He flirts, lifting his gaze to see her raising her eyebrows.

“…Alright.” The word leaves in between a scoff, and Yukhei takes the time to look through the necklaces again, taking two out. Those were his favorites when they arrived only a month ago; designed by one of the boss’ closest friends, a sun pendant in its gorgeous golden color and an eclipse in another necklace. Two different pieces, both seemingly connected.

Plush are his lips when he licks them, the cold breeze of the shop touching the taut skin. “I like these two.” Yukhei says, placing them neatly in front of her to look at. “…They got here not too long ago, but they are usually looked over because they are very simple.” He explains, watching as she scans the pieces with interest. “The Sun one, I think that one would look good on your neck.” When she doesn’t ask him what he means with more than a mere hum, he continues. “Because you are an absolute sunshine to look at.”

Finally, he gets a laugh out of her, though she shakes her head at the terrible line. The tip of Yukhei’s ears are burning and he finds himself laughing, too, one of his hands reaching for his cheek, making sure that his golden skin did not show the embarrassment he feels. The woman turns around, lifting her hair slightly to show his neck to him. “Let me see how it looks on me.”

Grasping the necklace in between his fingers, he hooks the piece around her neck, reaching for one of the mirrors he has nearby to let her look at her reflection. “Did you like the compliment?”

Her fingers caress the edge of the necklace, wrapping around the Sun pendant. “I am sure you can do better.”

“Oh, can I?”

“Yes.” Her short reply leaves the man with a smile, dazed at her utter beauty, the hypnotism of her voice. “I’ll just take the Sun necklace. I like it.”

Yukhei touches the end of the eclipse pendant. “What about this one?”

“Maybe later.” She tuts, looking through her purse to search for her wallet. Once in her hands, he finds himself intrigued about the woman, but past that—how she is able to pay for a necklace so expensive, though one of the least expensive pieces of the place. The black credit card glistens in between her fingers, worthy of all the whistles in the world, a humble-looking woman like her suddenly seeming a thousand times more hard-working in his eyes.

The exchanging glances and the flirting remarks do not stop with Yukhei, trying to get a grasp of her persona, a paper with her number or something that tells him more than the name on the facture he gives her. Her fingertips are cold when she accidentally touches his hand by grabbing the piece of paper, looking at him before giving him a faint smile, pushing the piece of paper inside her wallet and tossing it inside her purse, before she hears Yukhei’s voice.

“Uh,” He starts just as she turned around to leave, biting down on his lip before continuing. “I really meant it when I said it looks gorgeous on you.”

“…Thanks, I guess.” With a shrug, she answers, pushing her purse upper on her shoulder before giving him a once-over. “It’s the first time I hear someone calling me a sunshine.”

The push of her hands against the door are only accompanied by the sound of his response: “And it sure won’t be the last if you have me there.”

Yukhei is just taking a chance, though it slips from his fingertips when she gives him a mere chuckle, shaking her head at his attempts.

💎

“All those calories are going to ruin your health, Yukhei!”

“Why do you think I’m so tall, Mrs. Li? I need the calories!”

The only ounce of normality Yukhei gets is when lunchtime comes around at his workplace. A gush of fresh air is necessary when the constrictive feeling of his elegant clothing and the obnoxious smell of expensive cologne cling in the air at the jewelry store. Most of the time, he likes to sit by the nearest café, opting for a crowded place just to feel more accompanied, with the littlest bit of normality, but when his cravings are up the roof and his hunger takes the best part of him, he goes over to the pizza place in front of the shop. Glassed windows with neon lights, shining and blinking with the words ‘open’ as if to mock him in the middle of the day, when only a few customers gather around.

By the counter, there is the same guy every single day and Yukhei recognizes him thanks to the amount of conversations they have had while knowing each other. The black haired male wears an obnoxiously bright red hat that matches his equally as blinding red chemise, tucking it inside his jeans—and for someone who knows fashion like Ten, his uniform is a nightmare—. Ten looks like he belongs to a boutique, or maybe as a college student that puts little to no effort in his work, but instead, he connects with the pizza place, enchanting people on buying just another slice, surrounding the restaurant with the best hits on the radio, making sure to mumble them under his breath, perhaps dancing along if he is feeling happy.

The tall man barely puts a foot in while looking down at his phone, scrolling through his texts and answering to a few of them when he feels the smack of a towel hitting his arm. The stinging pain clings to his skin, a frown casting upon his features when he looks up to see Ten smiling like a cat, mischievous and lazy. “You have some good things to tell me.”

Yukhei tilts his head to the side, a deep chuckle leaving his lips. “Do I? I just came here to ask for the usual.”

His friend, Ten, huffs out a breath before turning around, tapping his fingers against the bell to call for the cook. “Randy, a Chicago-style pizza for Daddy Long Legs over here.”

“On it!” Randy screams from the kitchen before Ten looks back at Yukhei once again, taking the money from his hands before sighing deeply. Yukhei’s notices that his stare his going over to a couple, the same one that he had seen a few days earlier with an engaged couple. He is not sure if they are even together, but it is also not his business.

“I thought you would have something to tell me, considering that love is already in the air with those two idiots over there.” Ten points, a love-hater at heart, knowing better than basing on more than simple flirtations. Yukhei considers himself the same in one way or another, but if things move further with someone, he is not going to be the one to stop it.

“…What did you see, exactly?” Knowing Ten, he was probably spying out of the window when he wasn’t working and that led him to believe Yukhei had some kind of story to say.

Taking off his hat, Ten ruffles his bangs in order to fix them, but they are untamed at this point. “Two weeks ago, a very famous photographer went to your store and you were all heart eyes over her.” He says it as if it is the most simplistic thing in the world, but Yukhei is absolutely lost, playing with the case of his phone.

“A photographer?”

“Yes!” Ten leans forward, wanting to get the best part of the gossip. “Black cardigan. She kind of had a camera around her neck.”

Oh.

Oh.

Suddenly, the taller man is interested, resting his elbows against the counter and letting a smile creep up his lips, quirking them up in the subtlest of reminders. In all honesty, Yukhei has not been able to stop thinking about her since then—or maybe, he hasn’t seen anything that could ever compare to such unclassical beauty. “She’s a photographer?! And famous?!” Yukhei is surprised, watching as Ten nods his head eagerly. The smell of pizza lingers in the air, a delightful touch to his outspoken stomach.

“Vogue loves her art. She has photographed half of the models you see on every magazine.” Of course, Ten would know more about this. It is the type of knowledge he acquires from headlines, websites about celebrities and everything Yukhei is not really in. Though, the imagery of the woman at the jewelry store taking pictures is a sight he would love to look at, her stoic expression turned even more focused and concentrated. Hot, really, he finds those things to be more attractive than anything else. Ten breathes out a name, making Yukhei repeat it distractedly. “…That’s her name, as far as I know.”

Chuckling at that, he shakes his head. “What am I going to do with a name?”

Almost offended by Yukhei’s words, Ten huffs. “What can’t you do with a name? Dude, social media is there for a reason. Find your lady.”

A brief tint of red appears on the tip of his ears when he laughs. “…I kind of may have made a fool of myself just to get her attention.”

“Don’t tell me.” Ten adds. “You acted corny.”

“That’s my charm.”

“Yukhei!”

Patting the back pocket of his black slacks to see if his wallet is there, he taps his phone against the counter. “Trust me about this, Ten.” He initiates. “I am getting her attention without even following her on Instagram.”

Rubbing his temples with his fingertips, Ten puts his hat on once again, pushing the thought away with a laugh. “Good luck.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I know you won’t.” Looking over his shoulder, Ten taps something on the laptop to fill the pizza place with Khalid’s music, laughing at Yukhei’s antics. “But hey, do as you please, love doesn’t exist anyways.”

Drunken in his own stubbornness, in the need of feeling like he has control over fate, Yukhei wonders if Ten is right. It is almost impossible for someone like her to meet with him once again, but he can only dream and hope that the day comes once again.

The day he proves to himself that he can get someone like her.

💎

For someone who prides himself on his height so much, it is plentifully easy for Yukhei to get lost in the middle of a party.

Plopping the lemon of his Crusta Cocktail inside his mouth to suck on the treat, he tries to find his cousin. That one cousin that has more money than he’ll ever be able to deal with, the same one that he used to play soccer with when he was younger and that now, he gets to see once a year. Once a year, and he still picks to see Yukhei at a party. The place smells thickly like alcohol, sweat and smoke, leaving him in a daze when he moves to yet another room and he finds his cousin to be nowhere in sight. He was supposed to be giving the second cocktail on his hand to his cousin, but very rarely does he get to have these types of fancy drinks…and since he doesn’t find him, he might as well step out and breathe some fresh air before deciding to go back home.

A year ago, Yukhei would have laughed at this version of himself—getting tired from the normal work routine, but February is exceptionally tiring for him, and it is not an exception this time around.

The mansion has the biggest front yard he has ever seen in his life, looking like the garden of a castle rather than a place for cars to be parked. Everyone is following the rhythm of the bass and Yukhei takes a sip of his drink, trying to take it slow to avoid a hangover. Lightweight is not exactly the term that he would describe himself with, but he hasn’t gotten drunk since December…and lord, he doesn’t know how his body could react.

The crisp air caresses his skin even through his leather jacket and black sweater, cursing himself for wearing those ripped denim jeans he had on the back of his closet, ones that he had even forgotten he had bought. He looks for his phone, opting to look at the starry night once he is left alone, far away from people to be completely forgotten. The first thing he does is look through his contact list, picking that one number of the usual taxi line he uses and lifting it up his ear, expecting for a voice to welcome him until his eyes settle on something.

Rather, someone. A person inside a black car, with the lights of the house casting down upon it as if destiny is calling out for him to open his big eyes. The cloud of smoke surrounds her, long cigarette propped in between the goddess he had met at the jewelry store just at the beginning of the month, someone he had given up on weeks after thinking about her and just like he had told Ten, he was able to see her again without the need of social media. Somber, lost in her love affair with cigarettes while she looks at the party as if it was poison and he can’t stop himself from walking closer to her.

“Hello, you’re talking to—”

“Yeah, never mind. Wrong number.” Yukhei speaks to his phone, hanging up the call before pushing the device down on his pocket. His steps are rushed when he goes over to the car, taking another sip of his cocktail before tapping his knuckles against the window. She is startled, expectedly so, looking over to him while pushing her cigarette down, but once she gets a good glance of his face, it is enough to roll the windows down, raising her eyebrows at his presence. Thus, she takes in his appearance, the stylish look he is serving for the night.

“Necklace guy?” When he looks down at the neckline of her shirt, he sees that the Sun pendant is resting upon that mole he had seen the first time he saw her and soon after, he smiles.

“Yes. Want to take a picture of me? I heard you’re good with those.”

With an amused smile, the woman taps her cigarette against the edge of the window, taking a puff soon after. “So, I see you know about me.” Yukhei confirms it by saying her name, greeting her as if they hadn’t met at his workplace. “And my name.” He knows better than to talk to the mysterious woman, roll himself in the webs of her twisted life. Once, he heard, artists are the worst of lovers—too sensible but too afraid of it at the same time, and she is an artist with a camera. “Do I get the pleasure of knowing yours or are you just going to pop into my life randomly?”

The pleasure. Yukhei can’t help but feel giddy at her words. “Wong Yukhei.”

“Ooh, I know a Wong in this party.”

“It’s probably my cousin. Is he an actor?”

“We are talking about the same guy, then.” Pushing her, now shorter, cigarette up to her lips, Yukhei concentrates on the shape of her lips, how she outlined them in the faintest neutral, almost like a second skin. Taking a sip of his cocktail, licking at the remaining speckles of sugar on his lips, he continues.

Leaning against the car, he watches as she gets out, closing the door behind her to lean against it. She is not wearing a dress, opting for more of a simplistic—yet put-together—look. Stunning in his eyes, mysterious as well. “You’re up for ruining your lungs? Smoking is bad, even the box says it.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she replies curtly, but the smile on her face shows she doesn’t mind having Yukhei there. “I think it’s cool.”

“Whoa,” Yukhei adds. “I expected a metaphor.”

Instead, she shakes her head. “You think I’m this minx, seductress, who does dangerous things and is exotic and luxurious…” She chuckles at her own words, shaking her head before kicking the cigarette she just dropped on the floor.

The juvenile man leans his weight against her car, tipping his drink up once again. He really should go back home. “Well, it’s up to you to show me if you aren’t like that.” The flirty remark has her raising her eyebrows, forever entertained by the fact that Yukhei is interested, itching to get to know her more. Most people don’t get that far. “What are you like?”

“That’s up to you to find out.” She mumbles, making Yukhei chuckle, maybe a bit too loud thanks to his drinks and that is enough to have her leaning on her car’s door, reaching for something in her purse before giving it to him. Little does she know, Yukhei’s eyes are taking everything about her in, a work of art he’ll never get tired of. “I have this bag of marshmallows I wasn’t going to eat…and you’re on your way to being tipsy, so eat up, Yukhei.”

The bag creaks in between his fingertips, the sound a motion of her kindness, and he opens it quickly before pushing some past his lips. “Thanks,” He says before leaning the bag towards her. “Let’s share them.”

She says ‘no’ with her eyes, albeit the right thing to do, but she takes a few in between her fingers before plopping them inside her mouth. “You were leaving the party?”

“I’m not good with spaces…and directions…and I lost my cousin, so I thought leaving was the good idea.”

“So tall and yet, so clumsy.” The ice of his drink is starting to dissipate on his fingertips, the heat of the night and the flush he gives her enough to create vapor.

“Are you clumsy?”

“Uh…Not necessarily. I have my days, though.”

“Good. Tell me about it.”

The night is not a blur, thankfully, the snack she gave him enough to keep him awake, but Yukhei remembers the highlights perfectly. The way the moon glistens on her smile, constellation after constellation written in the stars in her eyes, how she holds on to her necklace when she is speaking and how, even after he planned on getting a taxi, she offered to drive him home. Parties are not her scene, and he basically has to tut her to get some facts about her, but by the time she drops him off with her number saved on his phone, he knows something:

He has to kiss this girl.

💎

Eclipses. Beautiful, yet Yukhei thinks he has not been able to see one. He falls asleep too soon, or he never gets the memo, but he knows it’s the perfect mixture of light and darkness. Blinding, some say, his mother tells him that if he ever gets to see one, he just has to wear sunglasses or he is going to lose his eyesight completely. He really wants to see one, but he has to make do with what he has in front of him—

And sure, he doesn’t have to wear sunglasses to look at the beauty of the photographer he has been thinking of lately, but he might as well do. It is surprising to see her back at the jewelry store, only to have him attending her once again (or maybe, he just begged Mrs. Li with one of those puppy-eyes gazes every mom loves, and she let him be) and with the few seconds of brief conversation, she is already asking for the eclipse necklace he had tried to sell to her the first time they met.

For him, it’s strange. Part of him—this confident side of him that thinks he is the starring role of a 90’s movie—believes she is there because of him, wanting to reconnect with what made them meet after they have exchanged texts for a few weeks, back and forth flirting until she comes to sudden stops, bursts of fear that leave him hanging but in the long run, he accepts. He knows this, yet he can’t bring himself to believe it, because this Sun, this eclipsed Sun that is her is also one he doesn’t get to look at often, and it is because she hides. In the depths of her complex personality, in that serious expression of hers, in the same lines of ‘a date sounds great, Yukhei, but you’re just leading yourself to heartbreak’.

If she wants to go out on a date with him, too, why would it end in heartbreak?

Either way.

“Are you planning on giving this necklace to someone?” Yukhei asks, taking it out of its box to show it to her. She has seen it already, but he is just finding an excuse to keep her there for longer, and she doesn’t seem to be phased by it.

Instead, the shadows on her face switch in position when she looks up at him, “Curious?” She prompts, leaving Yukhei with an excited taste on the roof of his mouth.

“You could say that.”

“I’m giving it to myself,” She adds, lifting the necklace up to his fingers and turning around. The concept of a déja-vu lingering on the situation, flooding his face with a smile. “You know, Yukhei, some of us just really are…used to gifting things to ourselves, or being alone.” His fingertips graze the edge of the necklace, hooking it like he had done with the Sun necklace. Though, the touch lingers on her skin and he notices it in the way it heats her up by the time he pulls away, taking her time to turn around before looking at herself in the mirror.

“It’s good that you gift yourself things. It’s what you deserve.” Because Yukhei is not against the fact of seeing her being independent and strong on her own. If anything, that is exactly the color of her personality that draws him in. “It looks pretty on you.”

“Yeah,” She says, looking back at the man before leaning her weight against the counter. “I heard from someone that I really remind him of the Sun and Eclipses.”

Aware of exactly who she is talking about, because—huh, it’s himself, Yukhei grins. Sometimes, in the depth of their conversations, when they are getting to know each other and she backs out the slightest out of simplistic fear of getting too attached, he wonders why he does this to himself. There are millions of people in this world able to love at once, granted of kisses, way more open to the idea of dating, of a possibility. She is not one of those people, finding love scary, not particularly grotesque, but she has admitted to him that she hasn’t thought about love for years, a trial and error she isn’t fond of. “Uh,” He adds. “Anything interesting about this guy in particular?”

Tapping her fingertips against her purse, different this time around, she gets out her wallet to give him her black card. “He’s funny.”

“I heard he’s handsome, too.”

“You know the guy?”

“We’re friends.” He shrugs, following along with his own game before huffing, pressing the card against the device. “He thinks you’re amazing.” His eyes glisten when he says that, because he means it. Not all the words they have exchanged through texts are deep dives into amours. Some of them were genuine conversations, where he got to know she likes photography and he likes making a fool of himself in front of cameras just for the sake of having the people he loves laugh. There is intelligence within her, not in the form of textbooks, but in the form of art. Yukhei connects with her in her view in life, somewhat wishing for a better day each moment of her life—he is like that, too. A jewelry store worker was never in his dream list, but sometimes life gives its twirls and he just had to learn how to dance with it. “…He really wants to take you out on a date, just so you two can finally talk face to face.”

The soft air conditioner blows on her hair, barely moving it when she squints her eyes. She gets out of character, he can tell. “Yukhei, I really want to say yes.” She initiates, but with her…there is always an argument, a lead-up to her conclusion. “But what if it doesn’t work out that way? I really like the conversations we have—”

Yukhei lifts his hands up in the air, as if to calm her down. Guards down, like he always has them. “Just a date, you don’t have to live up to any expectation.”

Tilting her head to the side, she gives him a pitiful smile. “But you deserve all the expectations, Yukhei.” She admits, his heart warming up at the idea of seeing her being warm for once. That is a sight he thinks no one has seen, and it is a pleasure to be one of the few people that get to see it.

“…You know what, having you there and having a good time are all the expectations I have.” He continues, giving her credit card back before rolling his sleeves up his arms, softly marked veins showcasing on his tanned skin. “I am thinking bowling would be a great idea. We’d get to know each other, and since we are not people of typical dates…we could, you know, just have a good competition.”

The idea sounds marvelous in his head, too inviting to be true, when her fingertips dig on her forehead, palm connecting with the skin. A chuckle leaves her, something that comes with Yukhei’s presence every time. “You never give up, don’t you?”

“Nah. It’s not in my dictionary.”

Her words glaze over with those little stars he adores, watching her lips part when she says. “I smoke.”

“I don’t plan to change you. I am attracted to you for who you are right now.”

“I lost all passion for my job and now I am just plain boring.”

“You are not boring to me.” She always wants to find something, an excuse to show their incompatibility, but Yukhei sees diamonds in her entire personality. Some would call her a diamond in the rough, wearing beautiful jewelry but not matching it to her stern expression, but Yukhei sees past that. He sees past the exterior she wants to project. “So…bowling sounds good?”

Touching the Sun and the Eclipse, collided in her sternal angle, she hums. “I think I am free next Sunday. You are up for that?”

“I am down.” His smile cannot be compared to anything else.

💎

The truth is, as arrogant and tall and effectively charismatic as Yukhei may seem, when it comes around to playing…he is not the competitive type. If anything, he decides to enjoy the game, talk to his competitor in hopes of getting to know each other better, walk in the thin line of life that divides people when it comes to competition. Be damned Yukhei for living life in such a pleasurable way when he finally gets to go out on a date with his self-proclaimed favorite photographer, thus watching her closely and out of that shell of hers is something that he thirsts for.

The bowling alley is widely illuminated and much to anyone’s desires, it offers some food services and the best smoothies he has tasted in a while. The banana taste lingers on his tongue when he leans against the seat, bright in an aquamarine shade, contrasting the pink sweater he draped over his body without much thoughtfulness before coming to this date. His date—and damn him for never getting over that word, because burning a hole through the ice walls of her personality must be a gold medal given to him in a competition like the Olympics itself—has an orange ball held by her fingertips before she uses a somewhat average technique, but that is not what he is thinking about. The concentration on her face speaks of determination, something that Yukhei may lack in most occasions, too much of a woman to ever have room for anyone else in her heart but herself.

The anatomy of her, as a person, as an individual, is already beautiful on its own, but every architectural piece, or any art for the matter, even the human body itself, has to have some kind of meaning. Hers is written in blurred lines and Yukhei is not the best reader, not too fond of books either, simply squinting his eyes and trying to get a resume out of her, a simplistic version of all the twirls, all the quirks, the obstinate reflection in the world, like she is tired of the sun shining too bright, of people speaking too loudly, of the try-hard’s and the promises. Someone like him, like Wong Yukhei, is one of those joyful rays of sunshine, the one outstanding laughter in a group of friends, that one person that promises a great time even before the handles of the clock arrive to its destination and yet, he can tell she is interested.

In her eyes that light up with her smile when she gets what she wants, how she realizes that excitement makes a home out of her and she pushes it down, trying to live life like there shall never be too much enjoyment. Two seconds is all it takes for her to get over to where he is, his arm immediately resting on the backrest of the sofa to welcome her in, watching as she leans forward to grab a slice of the pizza they had ordered. Not quite as good as any of the others he has tried, and though they agree on that, Yukhei would much rather have the blandest pizza in the world with her just for the sake of getting to know her.

As always, her camera rests with her, a part of her body that Yukhei has gotten used to, placed over the table as their companion. “Hell yeah!” Yukhei adds, raising his hand up in the air for her to high-five and she does, midway through biting on the pizza, the oil coating her red-cladded lips. Burgundy, like the shirt she is wearing, dipping on the middle with a heart shape, a bit ruffled on the sleeves and matching her necklaces perfectly. “You’re way better than me.”

“If you stopped trying to impress me every time, you would be better.” She tells him, nudging him with her elbow before taking another bite of the meal.

“I am not trying.”

“No?” She asks, voice softened in the slightest bit.

“I am succeeding.”

“Stop with the dumb lines before I smack you.” Though, a smile appears on her face when Yukhei stands up, dusting his hands in his jeans to take up on the game.

She is not a psychic, much less does she make predictions, but she is right about Yukhei looking over his shoulder from time to time simply to continue their conversation. The hours drip with more knowledge, how Yukhei gets to know about her beginnings with photography, and the few celebrities that she did not stand for the life of her. Not isolated at all, the man in question delves into his own anecdotes, from the beauty of mornings in his childhood home, to the days in between high school and college in which he finally decided to pursue whatever job he found. There is comfort in between the two, merging with flirting, but at the same time connecting them further with their differences.

“This one is for you!”

“I sure hope you miss.”

And he does, the ball rolling towards the gutter like it always belonged there. The laughter that follows soon after comes from her, and as proud as Yukhei may be, he actually chuckles at himself as well, big hands coming up to cover his smile when he moves to where she is seated. Her fingers grasp her camera up to her face, squinting one eye to concentrate on the lens, on the image of Yukhei laughing that she is trying to capture in the depths of her eyes, for her eyelids to enjoy later, or maybe she just finds inspiration in the grin on his face, in the way his tanned hands cover a big chunk of his face and the happiness he exudes. She doesn’t notice those little peeks of love for her job, the same one she said she lost, when her chest puffs out in pride after taking several pictures of him.

But, her camera has been all over him for—almost—the entirety of the hour and a half that they have been there, and he doesn’t mind it one bit. Plopping down on the seat beside her, the two look at the scoreboard just in time to see that Yukhei has, indeed, won…thanks to the heavens or luck or life giving him a win after missing his last score. His eyes scan her features, looking for any sort of despair, anger, perhaps annoyance, but his wide eyes are met with the camera that she basically pushes to his face, taking another picture of him—out of many, really.

Yukhei is smug by now, parting his legs to rest his hands on top of his thighs, soon after running his fingertips through his dark hair, sweeping it away from his eyes to get a good look at her. “At least pay me for being your model.” He is joking, the smile on his face a hundred miles away from being a smirk. Genuine enchantment is what is read through his expression, like Yukhei wants her to know that there has never been a more beautiful moment than the one they live right now, and as a young man…Yukhei has gone on plenty of dates; some bad, some short, some ending up with a kiss and others ending up with him basically looking for an excuse to get out of there out of uncomfortableness. This is a nice change, he realizes, because her trust is well-earned, one that he has had to fight for through text, absentmindedly narrowing the gap in between the two. When someone is silent for a long time, even a word from them can save your world, and that is how Yukhei feels. A smile from her is worth a million diamonds because people rarely get to see it.

“You kick half of the models of the world in the ass, don’t blame me.” She replies, reaching over for the last slice of pizza and dividing it in half, giving the crustiest part to him.

The taste of pepperoni reaches the roof of his mouth, already a bit tired of the taste after eating so much, but he’ll have what he can get. “I thought you said you hated photography by now?”

The chuckle she gives him dies in the depth of her esophagus, alluring in the way it trembles in her chest, keeping her lower register in a single sound. “I’m sick of it. Doesn’t mean I hate it.” She corrects, licking her lips and reaching for her water bottle. Her makeup is a bit wiped off thanks to the heat of the place, and the red lipstick he had adored is starting to get off her lips. The worst part is that Yukhei actually doesn’t mind this, because one of the things he has thought about is taking off her lipstick himself, with a kiss that would take her breath away. Yet, the coldness that dissipates from her is enough to give a few steps back, enough to think that…heck, taking his time must be the best idea. “I started photography when I was younger, but I didn’t actually get a job in it until two years ago. One of my best friends decided to be a model, and we happened to live together as well, so when she got a modelling gig for a magazine…I would tag along to see. Suddenly, I was helping the photographers and giving my own ideas.” She snorts at the reminder, shaking her head before reaching over to where Yukhei is, taking an eyelash off his cheek and keeping it on her thumb. “I thought I had fucking made it. I had my first photoshoot, then I appeared on small magazines. Vogue hired me one day—”

Yukhei presses his thumb down onto hers, battling for the eyelash in between their fingers. Knowledgeable of his power, he interlocks their fingers together, making her smile softly. “That’s huge, though. I’m sure you have to have amazing talent to get so far in such little time.”

“I’m just…tired. There’s only so much you can do with a model.” She replies, huffing out a breath when they pull their thumbs away and she realizes it had stayed in Yukhei’s fingertip. “What did you wish for?”

“Your happiness.”

“What a sap.”

In her eyes, she is a diamond in the rough. She doesn’t shine bright anymore, at least not like how she used to. Another stolen talent, another bland personality, just the same somber person in a world filled with colors. Creativity is both her outlet and her biggest stress, when passion became work and work became turmoil. In the world she lives in, she gets to see people once or twice, she has to be on the run, capture the most perfect of situations…but neither of them are perfect. Yukhei is too loud, perhaps too clear, sufficiently enough easy to read, a man of smiles but also of insane confidence. She is the exact opposite, a cloud of smoke that translates into unspoken words and eye-rolls, leaving her eyes shut until she precisely needs to speak. It is the first time in years that she has spoken so much, she admitted earlier on the night. “I mean it,” He whispers, repeating it again over the music. “Well, if you are sick of it, then why do you bring your camera around you at all times?”

“In case inspiration strikes.” She argues like it is the most obvious thing in the world, but she doesn’t realize that nothing is obvious with her. “You’re a great subject to photograph.”

Licking his lips, Yukhei agrees. “Because I’m handsome?”

“Not only that,” Her head tilts to the side when she says that, pulling their interlocked hands in between them and getting closer to him. From up close, Yukhei can see the lines of her face, the depth of her eyes, the mysteriousness that lingers in her smile, like she is thinking of something entirely different to what she is saying. She smells like cigarettes and her favorite chocolate based perfume, like she may break his heart if he gets too close. “You can be all types of handsome, which you are, but you are genuine. It’s hard to find that in people.” The compliment leaves a flutter to rest on his chest, and it’s annoying—normally, Yukhei is the one to take his chances with his dates, but one sentence from her is enough to turn him into the adult version of a school boy in love. “I am always surrounded by fake stuff. Lights. Camera. Even fake plants and fake sunsets. The laughs are fake, the poses are fake, even the pictures are fake with how much they Photoshop the pictures I take.” It must be tough on her. Her style is constantly changed to fit what others want, to be beside the headline on a magazine, to be the front cover and perfectly put. People in her world don’t want roughness, neither do they want imperfections, they want luxury, diamonds. She wanted those as well when she met him, just smaller in size—just a dose of what the fashion world means. “…You laugh like you don’t give a shit. You’re not scared of being hurt, or if people judge you.” Her voice becomes softer, and the smile on Yukhei’s face turns into adoration when he sees through the curtains that always surround her. Like anyone else, she has been hurt. “You’re not scared of me, and I’m an absolute bitch. I don’t want to forget that. I want to show that through the picture.”

“…You’re not a bitch.”

“Yukhei.”

“If you’re a bitch, then I like this bitch!” He points out, bringing laughter out of her lips before she shakes her head. “Can I see the pictures?”

Reaching for her camera, she seems to have been ready for that question. “Of course.”

The ride in her car is filled with music. He wants to show her a part of him through the songs he listens to and when he side-eyes her, just as he is singing a song at the top of his lungs for comedic effect, he sees the faint smile on her face bathed in the glow of the city lights. Her car is black, perhaps tainted like her soul, and the contrast is beautiful—much more when she puts her playlist on, and the atmosphere is filled with more of her. Enigmatic tunes with poetic lyrics, a city-esque vibe coming from the breathy voices, and Yukhei enjoys it for the most part, hearing her speak about the songs she likes and cringing at the music that she used to listen in the past. At the end, Yukhei wants to know all sides of her, from then and from now, so when he looks up that one song that reminds her of her awkward teenage years, he is met with the most beautiful of frustrated groans and a slap to his shoulder.

He’ll take it, simply because getting to know every ounce of reaction from her is more of a benefit than a mission.

The crisp air of the night follows after him when he closes the car’s door, and he half expects to have to lean down on her window to get to say his goodbyes, but the same sound comes after his action. The small building he lives at welcomes him, with the same dark bricks and the same unhomely vibe. He knows this is not the place he wants to live in for the rest of his life, but it is a place for him to learn, also one of the reasons why he is saving so much money. Coziness is what he needs, and it’s exactly what he gets when he starts speaking:

“I thought you said you had to go home quickly because you have a shoot tomorrow.” In her expression, he reads some sense of surprise. Of course, she never expected him to be the kind to remember something she said two days ago.

Pushing her hands in the depths of her coat, she bites down on her bottom lip as she nears him with shortened steps. Yukhei wants to take his keys out, but he keeps them in his pocket just to have one more moment with her. Her shivering gives away that the night is much too cold, and they should probably say their goodbyes soon. “I know what I said,” She whispers, leaning forward until their chests are barely touching, to the point one harsh breath would have them connected. “But I also wanted to say sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“…For denying this date for so long.” She shrugs her shoulders, like she wants her words to mean nothing. It’s too late, though, Yukhei is already smiling widely, tickling her sides with the tips of his long fingers.

“You liked our date.” He sing-songs, only to have her rolling her eyes.

“…It was okay, that’s just it.”

“It was perfect. You liked it. Admit it.” Yukhei continues, pushes even, and it takes him a moment to register what comes next. Her fingers wrap around the belt-hoops of his jeans, bringing him closer to her until their abdomens are flushed together, her lips reaching his in a kiss without preparation. She tastes like the food they just had, mixed with the other smoothie they ordered to share at the end of their match, but she also tastes like coldness. The breeze has him coming closer to her, resting the expanse of his hands on the dip of her waist, running towards her back slowly before leaning his weight forward, bending her back just a little bit more to deepen the kiss. Their lips trace lines together like they had practiced that sketch, art in its purest form when Yukhei’s hands bawl her coat, just in time to hear her quickened breathing against his lips.

“You idiot,” She mumbles, her eyelashes framing her eyes when she looks up at him, then down at his lips again to give him a softer kiss, more of a peck. “I wanted to ask if you would mind me…uh, staying for another while.” She swallows thickly after those words, hearing the sound of Yukhei’s keys just as he twists it on the doorknob of the entrance to the building.

“You can stay over if you want?” Yukhei tuts, bringing her inside to the warmth of the calm, silent apartment. In the near distance, he hears the neighbor’s door barking and he is thankful that he is in the second floor at the exact moment she says:

“I would love to.”

His lips find solace in her jaw, her hands coming one with his shoulders, a dance of two lovers that don’t care about the outcome of that night, but they are intoxicated in the present, in the feeling of being hypnotized by the other. Just for that night, there is not another person in their eyes but the other.

But it wasn’t just for that night, it became a series of events in constant repetition.

💎

The shadows over the ceiling of her home are known to him. His eyes can already make out the shoes she keeps in the corner of the room, the easiest ones to put on if she is ever in a rush; the silhouette of a shirt peeking from the side of her closet, always engraved in his brain, like her scent, the taste of her lips, the caress of her hair when it falls over his face once they are kissing, framing it and keeping her in his line of vision, a tunnel for him to get lost in. The time in which they have lived in this rendezvous is not too long, but also not entirely short, intoxicated in the feeling of comfort that comes from one another, two diamonds when alone and a necklace when together.

Sometimes, his favorite feeling comes from the weight of the necklaces on her neck, dragging across the skin of his chest with every breath. Yukhei loves to unmask another part of her absentmindedly, ending in between the sheets one or two times out of the hundred times they meet. It is not a promise, but to him it tastes like it—he wants more of her, lips parting to engulf every insecurity of hers in the secrecy of their meetings. Like one of those times, Yukhei is laying in between her plaid covers, his white shirt dropping by the sides of his waist, tanned skin showing miraculously. Her thighs are resting on each side of his body, her wet lips pulling away from their kiss to softly create love in the form of pecks to his jaw, his neck, up to his cheeks once again before lowering down. She savors all of him, keeping quiet when he makes so much of a comment that could mean attachment.

Plenty of times he has heard her say that romance is just for movies. Even in such places, it is bitter.

Not that Yukhei is a saint, but he sure as hell is dulcet.

His hands rest on her hips, grabbing the edge of her leggings and snapping the fabric against her skin. She jumps at the action, taking his head in between her hands, fingers caressing his cheeks with a confused expression on her face. From her position, Yukhei must look like a mess—his hair is disheveled, falling upon his eyelids, carving his cheekbones with shadows. His lips are surely red, swollen and kissed by the woman he wants to share hearts with. “What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to joke around.” Yukhei mumbles, his lips puckering up to kiss her fingertips. In between his big hands he takes hers, rubbing the cold skin and pressing chaste kisses to it, the ghost of a promise in his voice when he rests his lips over her palm, surprising her with his words: “I missed you so much.”

Two weeks of not seeing each other, for she was in another continent taking pictures for yet another version of Vogue, and Yukhei has only lived through video-chats and long lasting texts through the phone. Sometimes, he would expect her to see her text telling him she is waiting outside of his workplace with food; other times, he is reminded that they are not dating and that he should not linger too much on the thought of not having her there, but he is guilty. Somewhere in between their time of knowing each other, his skin was inked with the tattoo of her name, not visible but felt.

Closing her eyes softly, she rests her weight back until her butt is mostly placed on his abdomen, fingertips touching his bottom lip with a nostalgic look on her face. Flicking her hair away from her face with a mere movement of her head, she sighs through her nose. “Yukhei,” It is a plead, the last bit of sanity left inside her after basking in this romance with him. “I am not the type of woman you’ll always be proud of. I love stuff and then, I get tired of it. I expect too much and I’m never pleased with things. You deserve someone that always looks at everything as enough.” And then, as always, she always asks for him to understand that he is so much better, that he deserves better, but there is no such thing as ‘better’ when she is there. When she is the diamond that reflects on his eyes, one that will never know how much she is worth. “You want a good girl—”

“I want you. I don’t want a good girl or a bad one. I want you.” Yukhei tells her, voice filled with sincerity when he takes her by the wrists, dragging her down until her nose is basically touching his and the light squeal she gives is what opens her eyes, reflecting in his brown ones. “Is it so hard to understand?”

“You’re twenty, Yukhei.”

“And?”

“One day, you’re going to think that you lost so much time with me, that you’re bored, I don’t fucking know.” Her voice is soft when she says it, looking all around his face before pecking his lips softly. “You are so loved, Yukhei. You deserve someone who loves you like you deserve.”

This is what she always does, pretend like she doesn’t feel anything when in reality, she is the first person to go out of her way to meet him. The woman that asks him if she has eaten, the one that asks him to talk about his feelings even when he doesn’t know how to voice them out intelligently. A fairytale is what she wants for him, but Yukhei has never been a fan of princesses and frogs—he is not even the movie type. His idea of romance is weighty, presentable, memorable, with her eyelashes fluttering against his skin when she falls asleep beside him, comfortable in his arms. Yukhei just wants to let her know he wants her, and that is not a sin. “…Hey, we’re getting to know each other.” He assures, resting his lips against her cheeks peacefully before breathing against the skin. “We have so much time to fall in love. We’re not there yet, but we could be.”

But Yukhei is lying, because there is more to them than making out in her bed. There are the usual Saturday getaways, to a new restaurant or a new arcade. The same movie they watch every once in a while, Monster Hunt, because they both enjoy it and they are damned for never finding something that means so much to them. He feels like there is something there, an awaking, burning in the depths of his heart. “…I’m afraid that if I ever fall for you, it will end.”

“Why?” He asks.

“Because it is an ending!” She says as if it is the most obvious thing, letting out a raged groan as she rests both his hands on the expanse of his thighs, feeling as his hands sneak up her shirt to rest on the skin of her waist. “And I’ve been used in the past. Sure, I shouldn’t compare you, but everyone expects something out of the person they like.”

Reaching up for her, Yukhei sits up and presses his lips down on hers, doing his best to portray every feeling of love in the glide of his tongue, the nipping of his teeth, the way he breathes out when he pulls away and call his name like a drunken man, like he could never get enough of what she makes him feel. “I only ask one thing from you and that’s honesty. Tell things to me straight.” He whispers, feeling as her hands rest upon his heart, catching the beating of the organ. “If you like me, tell me so. If you don’t, we can stop.”

“I like you.” She tells him, eyelids fluttering down when she looks at his lips. Maybe, she sees more in him than she ever gives away. He knows that much—she likes him, but he just doesn’t know to what extent. “But give me time, okay? I want to…to take all of this in and…you know; I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

In any other occasion, in the past perhaps, Yukhei would have turned his back, but instead, he kisses her once again. Perhaps, he thinks she is really going to fall for him, or he is in too deep to even get out at this point, or maybe he is just in love when he wakes up by her side, her legs tangled with his, her ceiling becoming the first sight he sees in the morning. Naked, vulnerable, in love, Yukhei both loves and hates the feeling, hoping that one day…life gives him exactly what he wants. His diamond, like the ones that rest against his arm thanks to her cheek that is pressed to his shoulder. He wants her to the depths of his blood, with his entire heart, and it is too much for a man in his twenties…but he welcomes the feeling with open arms, not that he had an option to start with.

💎

The jewelry store is far calmer than it has ever been in the past few months. By the counter, Yukhei is constantly checking his phone, expecting the entrance of one of their sellers, catching up on orders for graduation rings and stones. Arranging is what he does the most that day, putting boxes to one side, fixing the jewelry by color, type and size, writing down the descriptions of the petitions from clients and that is only the start, leaving Mrs. Li to basically take care of all the clients that come inside the store. In the matter of time, Yukhei loses the track of it, simply thriving off the need to finish his work fast before getting a break. His neck is starting to hurt, his long fingers rubbing it when he tries to differentiate between Swarovski diamonds, for earrings are far too incomprehensible for him to understand.

He still remembers the sting he felt on his earlobe when he got it pierced, like he saw the devil in the back of his eyelids all in the name of fashion. Nowadays, he forgets about putting an earring on…and when he does, he prefers a simplistic style, more so looking like a black dot against his tanned skin. When he looks through the piercing section, he remembers how much he has talked to his girlfriend about piercing his eyebrow, though the pain is what keeps him from doing so. She always says it would look amazing, but when the thought crosses his head and a smile creeps up his face, Yukhei corrects himself mentally.

Lover. Not girlfriend.

Not that he has tried to ask her, he already knows the answer—that she just wants him to have the best of the best, and until she reaches that, she wants to take it slow. Passing by his lips, he always told her, and will if life gives him the opportunity, that she loves him for who she is, and rather than changing herself for any person, she should work on improving on her skills if that is what makes her happy. The infamous cigarettes still dangle from her lips, sometimes in the taste of her kiss, but definitely not as repeatedly used as before, but there is something different about her, a pristine love for her art. It may not be in the magazines of Vogue, still taking her a bit of a time to get used to the rushing and draining life of a photographer for fashion magazines, but she is getting there in finding her voice and portraying it through photography. The subject of most of her non-work related pictures is Yukhei; cooking, eating, dancing, talking, laughing, playing videogames or sleepily looking at her with that plastered smile. She says she wants to capture him for when she forgets the beauty in the world, that people are not all puppeteers, looking for their next victim to control.

A box is held over his shoulder, taking out the new diamond necklaces from its boxes at the same time that he hears the door of the store open. Not that he looks up, sincerely lost in the task at hand, separating gold from silver, even those who do not stand in any line of the previously mentioned types, but he swears he hears Mrs. Li giggle and his senses are instantly met by the smell of sushi. Sniffling at the reminder that he has not eaten for over seven hours, Yukhei seeks for the source of such a scent, only to see the person whom had been texting him the entire morning about taking care of his meals—even when she had to be working in editing some pictures for an upcoming magazine issue.

“What are you doing here?” Yukhei asks, though the question must have sounded wrong in delivery, the goofy grin on his face speaks otherwise. She returns the smile, placing the white plastic bag on the counter before crossing her arms over her chest.

“You wouldn’t have eaten if I didn’t bring you food.” She comments, earning a bashful expression from Yukhei. The truth is that he doesn’t feel particularly scared of earning her heart, for he knows that he is able to do that and much more, but the fear she has of letting her heart be open to him is what stops him. The least he wants is to make her feel uncomfortable, and even though he is not the most patient of men, he tries for her, so awaiting the time she deems justified for them to get together is what he does. “Hi, Mrs. Li. I brought some food for you, too.” She is shy in the way she speaks to the older woman, giving her another plastic bag that she takes thankfully, pinching the cheeks of the much younger woman.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Mrs. Li comments before waving her hands. “I’ll see myself out. You two lovebirds have fun.”

With the backdoor closing shut, Yukhei feels the tug at his collar pinching his nape, bringing him closer to the woman in front of him who examines his expression, from his eyebrows to the sweat gathering at his hairline; his eyes, his nose, his lips, heck, even his neck if she will. “Give me a kiss.” She tells him, earning a smile from Yukhei because she always deserves them. This is her way of saying ‘I worried about you’ and he feels it in the touch of her lips. Tender, holding his plush and rosy lips in between hers before diving in once again.

“Thank you, honey.” Yukhei comments when pulling away, already reaching for the box inside the bag and the chopsticks beside it. “You must have been really worried. Weren’t you taking some pictures for the July issue?”

“I was editing, and yes, I finished early just for you.”

Quirking one eyebrow, Yukhei plops a slice of sushi inside his mouth before he laughs, speaking with his mouth full. “…That is not the first time I’ve heard you say that.”

“I’ve never said that.” She complains through gritted teeth, but another wiggle of his eyebrows is enough to have her chuckling when she rests her elbows against the counter. “Is it good?”

Pretending to give a chef kiss, Yukhei unites the tips of his fingers in a circles and throws a kiss in the air. “Perfect.” He confesses before dipping some of his meal in soy sauce. “It tastes even better knowing you worried about me.”

The silence of her is what interests him the most, because he loves some good teasing and the outcomes that follow soon after. He loves to see her undressed beneath him, that much is known, but seeing her naked soul and personality is even more astonishing. An eye-roll is given by her part, pushing his shoulder when he starts to talk. “Shut up.”

“You worried about me.” Yukhei whispers, leaning forward with a bit of soy sauce in the corner of his mouth.

“Learn how to eat before you try to act smug on me. You have soy sauce in the corner of your lips.” Thus, she tries to defend herself with a remark, only to receive a short kiss to her lips and one of those star-casted stares from the man who swears to love her silently.

“You do too, now.” Something within her stirs, and Yukhei feels like there is hope for them to someday fall in love. In the way she looks at him, like she can’t believe he exists—in the nicest of ways, but also extremely frustrated. He hopes she sees the reflection in his eyes, too, the ones who resemble diamonds when she is in front of him.

Love is disgusting, Yukhei can admit to that…and he can even cringe about it, but he’s far in too deep.

💎

Either Yukhei is reckless or dumb. Add immature to the mix, that may be also the reason why he is there.

Endless of times he has commented on the pendants she keeps pressed to her chest, like she wants to keep their first memory together close to her heart, and she has never made an effort to deny it. The Sun and the Eclipse remain there, sometimes one given to Yukhei when she is away for more than a few days—she says that even if they are in the same city, she wants to give a piece of her to him, and the idea alone has him taking the necklace from her hands before being asked to give it back. The image is completed by the Moon, touching the tall windows of her room, letting in the big and round Moon indicative of its fullness. Resting against the cushions on the bumped out window seat, there is Yukhei and against his chest is his lover, breathing softly as they stare at the Moon. He would rather do something much more entertaining, like go out or practice those yoga poses that they have been seeing online out of a joke, but she basks on peacefulness in that spot and he is too caring to let go of that moment.

Their hands are interlocked on top of her stomach, their breathings unmatched, the room barely lit by the moonlight, and of course, there is a small smile on her face; it barely reaches the edges of her mouth, but Yukhei knows she is contented.

Happy is what she has made him and he expects to give the same in return, months after starting something that doesn’t have a name, won’t even have one at the pace they are going in. But Yukhei tries to be patient, Mrs. Li has told him to be, but how long is too long? “Yukhei,” He hums at the sound of his name, turning to look at her sobered expression. “You must be so bored.”

Twisting behind her, he wraps his legs around hers before pressing a fluttering kiss on the side of her neck. “I was going to say no, but I really am.” He chuckles, biting playfully on her shoulder by the time she gives a mere laugh, one that doesn’t even leave her chest. “But we can stay here if you want. We can watch Monster Hunt later.”

“For someone who gets bored easily, you sure love watching that movie with me.”

“You love it, too.”

“Well, it’s the first movie we watched together.” She debates, like he is questioning her for having such tastes. “It’s not my fault we had such a pretty beginning.” The next sentence is bashful, like she didn’t mean to say it out loud and Yukhei immediately tickles her sides, something he does when he gets her to say something cheesy. His lips quirk up, repeating the words in his deep voice only to have her turning around to look at him stopping her by tugging at his arms and looking at him seriously.

He thinks this is the end, for she is looking at him with so much longing, nostalgia and passion that he thinks she may as well cry at that moment. Sentimentalism is not for her, too bright in its precious stone state, heavy and elegant, just too not-casual for her to ever wear, but Yukhei came into her life and he made a mission to get her to fall for him. Fate did, in some way or another, but Yukhei wants to give himself some credit, too. He has always known that she fears their ending so much that she could be the cause of it, merely because she wants him to be happy and happiness for her is bright colors, strenuous words and memories, and while Yukhei is all that, he doesn’t mind the slow pace.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks, laughing awkwardly when she keeps staring at his face, his plump lips pushing upwards when he doesn’t get a response. “…What is it?” His mind is ready for the break-up of what didn’t exist, the time in which a conclusion falls upon them and he wants to scream at himself. She told him so, that she is going to break his heart and he is going to end up regretting it.

“I am falling in love with you.” Her voice breaks at the end, following a whine when she goes to hide her face in his chest, fists bawled up on the side of his body, like she doesn’t believe what she just said. “I am falling in love with you and I don’t think I can stop myself anymore.”

The world doesn’t crash and Yukhei releases a breath so harsh that it may have as well destroyed his lungs, gripping her wrists in between his delicate fingers before moving them from side to side. “That’s a good thing!” The joy doesn’t leave his tone, making her look up at him with glistening eyes and an awestruck expression. In all situations except this one, Yukhei is a jokester, but with his heart in the line, he finally releases the words he had been holding in fear of getting his heart broken, too. “I fell in love with you, too.”

He knows better than to fall in love with someone like her, but he ignores that voice inside his head, for there is no one better than the person who promises to love him.

[tsunnychan]

chasing daybreak: even if

ao3

ch 4 of sylvgrid reincarnation au

“because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you.”

Sylvain walks through the halls of the museum, absently rubbing the center of his chest as his eyes rove over countless paintings and statues, searching and searching.

For what?

He sighs and shakes his head, quickly ducking behind a marble pillar when he spots the pink head of hair he was trying to avoid in the crowd of people he was trying to blend into. Groaning, he drags a tired hand across his face, already regretting his reflexive need to flirt and date anyone who has blonde, brunette, or pink hair.

He never truly understood why he’d been drawn to those particular hair colors, nor why he relentlessly sought them out.

Well, he knew why he sought them out.

He just prefers to ignore the fact he was always desperately chasing after something to fill the deep-seated emptiness that threatened to cave him in.

It’d always been that way, if his mother’s teasing stories were to be trusted. Apparently, he’d been a relatively happy baby. Never really causing a fuss, sleeping and eating without a care in the world, his eyes focused on taking in the world around him. Then, when he was two years old, he started having inconsolable bouts of crying every single year on January 4th.

The first time it happened, it was midnight, just barely seconds into January 5th, when his sharp cry split the quiet night and his mother came running. After frantically checking his room for any disturbances, his mother picked him up and placed him on her shoulder, bouncing him and gently rubbing his back.

He only wailed louder, his face growing pink with exertion.

Smoothing down his tufts of ginger hair, she cooed at him, “oh love, my baby, what’s hurting you?”

In between his tears, his hands fisted in his mother’s hair and he whimpered, “heart hurts, mommy.”

Tears still leaking out of his eyes, his mother kept rocking him trying to soothe his sniffles, when a soft knock sounded at the door. The door cracked open and a blonde head poked her head in, green eyes filled with concern. “Mrs. Gautier? Would you like some help? I know you have an important meeting to attend with Mr. Gautier in the morning…”

“Oh, Illana! Thank you for the offer, I didn’t realize Sylvain woke you, on your first night too—” Looking down at her son, who had suspiciously quieted when their newly hired live-in nanny entered the room, wet eyes locked onto her. She bounced him again, but his eyes didn’t waver.

Illana stepped fully into the room and held her arms out for him, cradling him as his mother passed him to her. “It’s quite alright. It’s what I’m here for, to make sure this little tyke stays out of trouble, isn’t that right, Sylvain?”

Based on what his mother said, he didn't reply, but he did stop crying.

From then on, he’d always cry on January 4th, and Illana was the only one to temporarily stop his tears until she left the Gautier’s employment. He’d clutched her hand tightly on her last day when he was six, mouth trembling. “Do you have to go?”

Her sad smile only deepened the already gaping hole in his heart, the one that still wasn’t entirely filled by her presence. The one that started all of his crying to begin with. “I’m sorry, Sylvain.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “I have to go take care of my sister in Galatea. She’s been coping alone for the past few years after losing someone precious. You understand, right?”

Even though he didn’t, he nodded anyway.

With one last sad smile and a kiss on his forehead, she was gone.

  And his eyes started straying to every head of blonde, brunette, and pink hair he could find, trying to find someone, anyone, to make his chest stop aching.

  He spots the pink head of hair whip her head in his direction and he curses under his breath. Hunching in on himself, Sylvain slips into the emptier hallway of portraits, painted by the famed Ignatz Victor of the Leicester Alliance centuries ago. He’d never been too invested in the history of Faerghus, already fed up with his family’s talks of their supposed line of nobility.

That, and because he couldn’t shake the feeling that history had been rewritten, somehow, someway, to fit a different narrative.

His mind flashes back to the green hair of his college professor and the firm set of his mouth when he questioned the accuracy of the Goddess’ will and her teachings.

Needless to say, he scraped a barely passing grade in the mandatory introductory course and never looked back.

Portraits though, he could get behind. He always appreciated paintings, especially the ones with dynamic brush strokes that made the subject look alive. It made him feel… more connected.

As connected as he could feel to a motionless canvas.

His eyes fluttered over the enormous paintings of Fódlan’s leaders, briefly lingering longer on the portrait of Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the crown prince of Faerghus, his heart tugging strangely in his chest.

Swallowing thickly, Sylvain follows the sensation, his feet taking him to the adjacent hallway dedicated to the Blue Lions of Garreg Mach Monastery. He scans each face briefly, his breaths picking up as the twisting in his chest worsens, déja vu washing over him.

  Then his breathing stops completely.

  His gaze locks onto vibrant green eyes, framed by golden blonde hair. The portrait of a pegasus knight, in flight while raising a glowing lance to strike, completely consumes him. It consumes him so wholly, so entirely, he forgets where he is.

He stumbles closer, blood pounding in his ears.

Sylvain doesn’t remember bringing his hand up, as if brushing his fingers against the canvas would bring the figure in the portrait to life.

  Make her real.

  His throat tightens, a name he hasn’t used before escaping from his lips.

  “Ingrid…”

[joeymozzarello]

Pen to Paper

Chapter Five

Summary: A simple thesis on a simple book she’d read. That’s all she needed to do. She knew it would be at least a little bit arduous but she didn’t think it would cause this much trouble.

Pairing: Tim Murphy x original female character

Words: 3,059

A/N: i got the idea for this in the american natural history museum where i found a note to a Julie T from a Dr. Com on a bench near the t-rex room.

//

Julie was never the ‘blackout drunk’ type. Sure she liked to party now and then, but she never felt she was one to go overboard. However, Saturday night happened in flashes. It all begun at the karaoke bar. Julie remembered her entrance because she spent ten minutes outside the place, practising her introduction. She didn’t want to seem awkward, she wanted to seem casual, smart and funny. She tried to think of all her good traits; a sharp jawline and gleaming blue eyes that didn’t sink too far into her skull, straight teeth, great ass - with a sharp inhale, she suddenly felt a lot more confident. 

She remembered walking up to Steven, who greeted her with a hug she wasn’t expecting and introduced her as ‘JJ’ to the whole group. This was strange because she’d never referred to herself as JJ in the past week, it felt like a very back at home thing, so she politely corrected him and the conversations quickly moved on. The first thirty minutes of the night included Julie being squashed into the corner of the couch whilst having the world’s most uncomfortable conversation with a guy that looked like Clark from the Office and was just as much a douchebag as Clark was and certainly just as memorable, in that, he wasn’t at all.

It had all started with a look up and down, from the top of her head, all the way down to her shoes, as if he had Terminator vision and he was trying to read as much about her as possible in very little time. His eyes stopped at her t-shirt. “How very English of you,” he said. She wasn’t quite sure whether this was a good or bad thing, his tone remained blank and so did his expression as he sipped on what looked like a cosmopolitan. “The Beatles were the only band that could accompany you to this event?”

"Who speaks like that?" was what she thought. What she actually said was, “I didn’t think I was going to be judged on my shirt choice, maybe next time I’ll go for a casual green,” she said, smiling sourly whilst staring at his extremely bright lime button up that should’ve stayed in his closet. He just rolled his eyes.

“You know he died here, right? John Lennon,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Congratulations, you’re a lot more lenient on murder here than we are back in England,” her eye contact didn’t falter. She being challenged and she wasn’t going to lose. “What would you like? An award?”

That’s where the conversation died down. Mr I’m-Ready-To-Catch-You-Out had gotten bored of her quick wit and he’d turned to someone else, leaving Julie on her own, still filling a space that was way too small for her. With a huff and a push at the hipster sitting next to her, she got up and walked towards the bar. “Hey, can I get a vodka martini with two olives? Cheers,” she nodded, looking back at the table full of people she was sure she wouldn’t get along with. “Yeah, just add it to their tab,” she gestured towards them with her thumb.

Leaning back onto the crowed counter, Julie just sipped on her drink, a little tipsy from the two shots she’d had with the group but still not feeling in the party mood. She sighed, starting to give up but in the corner of her eye, she spotted him. Blue jeans and a knitted yellow sweater, it could only be one person; Tim Murphy walked in, looking like he didn’t quite know the meaning of clean shaven and as if he were the advocate of looking scruffy but somehow, he looked more awake and ready to party than Julie had all night.

She wasn’t quite sure how to feel. It was perfectly logical that he was here, these were, after all, his friends but somehow, that didn’t cross Julie’s mind. Okay, maybe it had, just a tiny bit on Friday night, but that moment came and went without a second thought. She hadn’t seen him since their short, but surely not sweet, conversation on Thursday.

Tim Murphy did a sweep of the room, scanning the location as if he was looking for quick escapes just in case. She stared at him, somewhat hoping his eyes would catch hers, just to see what he would do if he saw her. He saw the table his friends were at, there didn’t seem to be any shift in his eyes or composure, he just kept looking around for a few moments and finally it happened. Their eyes locked.

Julie narrowed her eyes, smugly and sipped on her drink as she set one elbow down on the counter and leaned in comfortably. It was almost a challenge, a dare for him to come up to her. She didn’t exactly know what she wanted him to do, she didn’t really expect an explanation for his shortcomings but at least an apology. She would very much enjoy watching the Dr Tim Murphy apologise to her. Her mother always called her a sadist, Julie didn’t see it.

To her surprise, Tim didn’t give it a thought before walking towards her, his back slouched slightly and his walk almost tired but his aura was nothing but soft. As if he was suddenly in the mood to joke around. “Oh yes, you look like the real life of the party,” he approached her, biting the inside of his cheek, the slightest smile grazing his lips. “Tell me, why are you over here, standing alone, when the people who invited you out are all over there having fun?”

Julie straightened up, mimicking his confidence. “So is today one of the days we’re friends or are you going to shut me down first thing I say? I’d just like to be ready so I can pick up the broken pieces of my heart a little quicker this time,” she tilted her head, biting back a smile. After a second, Tim raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes, sighing, as if he gave up. He sat on the stool next to her.

“Gotta make this a good night. Shots on me?” He watched her, she was a little dumbfounded, not expecting that to work or even do anything but she was glad they were back on a nice rhythm. She just nodded, swinging back the las bit of her martini and taking her place next to Tim Murphy.

There was a lot of drinking in a very short amount of time but as things got fuzzier, the details started to slip away.

She didn’t know exactly how it happened, the lights were melting together in a spectrum of floating lights and deafening singing. She remembered joking about how the two of them would be much better than the guy who had been butchering a song they both loved. Next thing she knew, Tim was grabbing her hand and taking her towards the stage. “Hello!” He’d giggled into the microphone, getting a sparse response from the crowd. “We are Jim and Tulie - no, wait, Tim and Julie and tonight, we will be singing ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ by…” he turned to her with wide eyes and complete confusion over his face. She just shrugged. “We don’t know. But everyone knows this song. Just sing along with us. Okay. Enjoy.”

She remembered thinking Tim had a somewhat nice voice, it did crack when he tried to go too high or he shouted into the microphone. Both of them were ridiculously bad at singing in time with the music but people seemed to start to get into it. They begun to sing along and during the second chorus, when Tim’s arm was around her shoulders and they were both slouched forward, singing into one microphone and staring into the screen for the lyrics, people actually started dancing and clapping along. The both of them loved the attention.

There was something about letting go. When suddenly people became unapologetically themselves, when they start to accept each other and live without thinking twice about anything other than the here and now. That’s when Julie knew she was living for real, for herself, and not for some fictional, fairytale world she wasn’t even sure she wanted anymore.

The karaoke bar closed at midnight. Julie wasn’t quite sure what had happened between their performance and the moment they stumbled outside, their jackets open in the chilly October air, clouds puffed out of their mouths as they laughed and soon the only thing that could be heard in the backstreets of New York, over the hushed ambulances and car horns, were Tim and Julie, taking it in turns to shush each other.

“Do you ever feel like just because things happened ages ago they aren’t that far away?” Tim asked after a few moments of silence. Julie wasn’t walking in a straight line, her feet were crossing over each other and she was only looking at the floor as she walked, trying very hard not to step on the cracks. Tim, on the other hand, he walked slower, staring up at the sky, no stars to be seen, just a foggy dark sky and lots of buildings.

“Do you mean like the saying ‘it feels just like yesterday’?” Julie said slowly, trying her best to focus on the conversation.

“I guess,” he sighed. “Or like, when you think about it so much and it always plays over in your head even when you don’t want it to.”

Julie thought of a second, stopping in her tracks and bringing her gaze a little bit higher so she was staring ahead. Tim noticed she’d stopped so he turned and just watched her, his hands in his big grey coat. “I dunno, sometimes I think about the time my dog pooped in my bed because I forgot to take him on a walk,” she paused, thinking. “But I don’t think that’s the same thing.”

“No,” he giggled. “But it was good to know.”

They walked and talked; their conversations consisted of made up gibberish, hypothetical scenarios and some truthful outbursts. Julie found herself bumping into Tim’s shoulder to make him stumble over to the side, only for him to look at her from glazed, tired eyes and rush to push her back. Suddenly, nothing about the two of them was sarcastic, everything that tumbled out of their mouths was pure interest asked through croaky chuckles. It was as if they were children again.

“…so, I’m thinking, we get the boat and we just let it float and see where it gets to!” Tim laughed, throwing his hands up as if he’d just told her the most magnificent plan anyone has ever thought of. Julie had a couple of questions, to which Tim had all the answers. “You seem to not be sure of my plan, trust me I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Why you may ask? Well, you see -"

“I’m broke,” it came out of nowhere. Julie wasn’t sure why she had said it, it was the first time she’d said that out loud, probably the first time she’d properly admitted it to herself not as a passing joke or remark. “I thought my parents were going to help me out, I really did. They still haven’t and I’m starting to get worried. I’m living in a terrible hotel and I haven’t had a proper meal in a week. I’m tired and I haven’t really slept. It’s just been bad. All bad.” 

There was a bit of silence. They’d both stopped walking now, Tim was standing awfully still, not quite sure what to say since he’d never had the issue himself. Julie felt embarrassed, now that it was out in the open, she felt like she shouldn’t have said anything at all. Her face went warm, she was sure her cheeks were flushed as she heaved a sigh and stuffed her hands into her pockets and bit her lip. “Sorry, that was a bit much, what were you saying about the boat?”

Tim just blinked, he begun looking a little amused at her attempt to change the subject. “Text your parents.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Pardon?”

“You heard me, text your parents.”

She considered it. “Okay.”

Someway, somehow, almost an hour and a half later, they ended up at Tim’s apartment, a cat brushing past her legs almost immediately as they walked through the door. Tim pointed at the three cats, his keys in his mouth as he took off his jacket and shut the door. “That’s Peanut and Butter and Jelly.”

Her mouth fell open with a laugh. “Really?”

He hummed, squatting down to greet his cats, all of which were now around him, meowing, probably ready to be fed. He looked so calm and loving, something she’d never seen before, and for a split second, she saw the hood over his eyes falter. For a split second he didn’t look tired or as if he was somewhere else. “Peanut and Butter came together, one of my neighbours had kittens and didn’t know what to do with them,” he hummed. "Jelly was a rescue, I was afraid she wasn’t gonna take in well with the other two but they love her. She’s become the alpha of this apartment, it’s wonderful,” he laughed. Right as he said that, Jelly meowed at him, loudly and jumped onto the counter. “Yes, yes, hang on.”

Julie watched Tim as he got up to feed the cats, no longer drunk but somewhat quiet, like he was in deep thought or just extremely calm. There was no explaining it, the best she could do was look at his shoulders, there was no tension in the way he stood and the slouch he usually sported was now just a relaxed stance. He moved slowly but with care and his eyes, slightly glazed over from a yawn, blinked slowly in the dim light of the kitchen.

He sat on one of his massive leather couches, picking up a blanket and patting the space next to him. “You can stay here tonight, I doubt you know your way home,” he said quietly. Julie bit her lip. “I mean, if you want, if anything, I can get you a taxi,” he backtracked.

Julie shrugged. “I walked here.”

“You what?” He sat up. “From Brooklyn?”

“Yeah, I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and just sort of - made my way,” she sat beside him, an awkward space between them. “I actually passed a shop on the way here,” she grabbed her bag, pulling out a book that looked like it hadn’t been opened since the early 1900s. “They just sold cookbooks, vintage cookbooks. This one is called Twenty-four Little French Dinners and How to Cook and Serve Them. Not that I’ll be cooking any French dinners anytime soon, but I just thought it was really cool.”

Tim took the book from her. “We should cook a French dinner,” he blinked.

Her chuckle came to a halt when she turned to him and saw he wasn’t kidding. “I don’t actually know how to cook, I’ve been living off of digestives for the past week and baked beans out of a can for the past three years, I don’t wanna burn down your apartment,” she wouldn’t admit it but something about this idea excited her. She wasn’t used to it.

“Then we should definitely do it,” he seemed determined, something about this amused her. “Come on, don’t you think it could be fun?”

“I think we should make this decision sober,” she laughed. Tim got up and just stared at her. He reached out his hand for her to grab.

“I’m as sober as I’ll ever be, darling,” he winked. This surprised her, the sudden burst of bravery and the impulsiveness of his actions. She liked it, though, she still felt this was a bad idea, she took his hand and they made their way to the kitchen. “Now let’s see, which French dinner is best?”

It was now nearing five in the morning and their food was in the oven, Julie was still in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to make dessert and Tim, covered in flour, walked over to Jelly who was sat in front of the TV, waiting for Tim to turn it on. He smiled, ready to comply. He flipped through the channels, trying to find some documentary or other about animals in the wild when a news story caught his eye.

His heart sunk into his chest, breath getting heavier through his gaping mouth. He could feel his eyes get wider and his spine curl. The news castor’s voice buzzed through his ears as he watched what he thought could never have happened again.

“Simon Masrani, most known as the son of Sanjay Masrani, founder of the Masrani Global Corporation has just announced his plans to fulfil the late John Hammond’s dream to create a ‘functioning dinosaur park’ that will be open to the public. John Hammond is best known for his failed and short-lived creation of ‘Jurassic Park’ in 1993. This park is set to open at the end of the year and Masrani assures the public of its complete safety and assures it will be ‘fun for the whole family’. Masrani worked with fellow high-ranking members of InGen, including Dr Henry Wu to ensure this park’s success -”

“Hey, Tim? How much is 280 degrees in Fahrenheit? I just need to put this thing in the oven and then we’re set,” when he didn’t reply, Julie looked up at him, confused. “Tim?” She looked over at the TV, he was frozen. Julie walked over to him, recalling his memoirs from his book and placed a hand on his shoulder. He jumped up, making Julie stumble back, shocked and she just watched him. “Are you okay?”

“I need you to leave,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. She tried to say something but he just held a hand up, shaky. “Please?” His voice cracked. “Just please leave,” he picked up her bag and handed it to her, motioning towards the door.

And with her heart in her throat, she hugged her bag and picked up her coat and walked out into the hallway.

Master List!

[knightsofeclipse]

If you're doing the ask game as well, would you like to answer Daffodil Yellow? Or Blood Red (or both) 🙂

From the Colourful Writeblr Asks

Daffodil Yellow: Does worldbuilding come easily to you?Sometimes but not always. Either I have so much worldbuilding and nothing to do with it or I’m struggling to come up with even the broader details, there is no inbetween. And I think that has a lot to do with when I find it important or useful to the story. Really, I’m more of a characters person. So if it doesn’t help me flesh out the characters, it doesn’t come easily.

Blood Red: Favourite piece of dialogue from your WiP?Oh gosh, it’s probably still the dumb “what did you bring to the table?” “Toast” exchange from Parallel Sparks. Upon re-reading the “exchange” in question, I should more aptly refer to it as “later”

Ebony rolled her eyes. "It's a nice dream," she said with a soft smile. "But, how useful are our powers going to be?""We'll make them useful," Ivory said with conviction. Her determined expression turned to one of realization. She opened her mouth and pointed at Ebony, closed her mouth and balled the finger back into her fist. Her brows knit together. "You're already pretty sold on this, aren't you?"Ebony shrugged, "had to make you work for it."Ivory pounced onto the bed, took the pillow from Ebony's lap and smacked her with it. "Okay, smartypants, then how about you put some work in, too? Name us." She poised the pillow, ready to swing it again."Or," Ebony said, raising her hands to shield herself from the next blow, "we could sleep on it and brainstorm later." She ducked as Ivory swung the pillow. "I know; you hate later. But, seriously, it's after midnight and we have school. There was a reason Jenny put an eleven o'clock curfew on her party."Ivory sat back in defeat. "Fine. But you better have something to bring to the table for breakfast."Ebony brought the toast over to the island where her mother, Beth, was reading a news article on her laptop. The counter top was covered with a thick layer of papers and Ebony had to find a stack she could move aside to be able to place the plate of toast down. Beth smiled thankfully as she felt paper against her hand and looked to find toast."Is this all about last night?" Ebony asked, sliding on to the stool. She looked at the hazardously stacked pages in front of her, scanning the words from one page to the next between blinks. "That is a lot of art coming in.""Yes," Beth sighed. "And no way of knowing which one the thief was after." She hit the space bar twice, scrolling to the end of the page she was on. "All of these pieces have a history of being targeted."Ebony picked up a page that had caught her attention and skimmed it in less than a second. "Not just targeted. A few of the artifacts have been stolen before."Beth's shoulders drooped. "That just puts more pressure on me not to let them be stolen again." She reached out, intending to grab a piece of toast, and smacked the edge of the plate. Toast took off. It sailed through the air. Ebony reached out, relaxed, and plucked each piece from it's trajectory. Last, she collected the plate before it could hit the floor and returned everything to the counter."That was so cool," Ivory entered the kitchen with damp hair. She passed the island and went straight to the fridge. Pulling out a carton of juice, she eyed up the bowl of fruit on the shelf. "If I threw you an orange, could you catch it all karate master style?" "You tell me?" Although it was a simple response, Ebony's tone made it into a question.Ivory mulled it over. "Yes," she said carefully. She shrugged, "Cool."Beth looked between her daughters, not at all following the conversation, and returned to her computer screen. "Could you come by the museum after school? We have a special guest coming," she sighed, "with the break-in I don't think I'll have time to show them around with everything else I have to get done.""If there are no new homework assignments," Ebony said around a piece of toast, "we should have plenty of time to show someone around."Beth smiled. "Thank you." She picked up her computer, balancing it on one forearm, and took her coffee mug in her other hand. She looked at the paper-cluttered counter with exhausted eyes, gave her head a shake, and disappeared towards her bedroom."So," Ivory placed two cups on the island and poured juice into both, "what did you bring to the table?""Toast," Ebony said. For emphasis, she popped the last corner of her slice into her mouth. "In all seriousness, though, I was thinking we should have theme names. Like, Lady Light and Lady Night," she pointed to Ivory then herself respectively.Ivory pulled a face. "No offense, and by that I mean full offense; those kind of suck."Ebony shrugged, reaching across the counter to take her glass. "That's my offer. I brought something to the table." She chuckled into her juice. Ivory began pacing a circle around the island. "Well, I think our names shouldn't be too similar. We already kind of have that base covered. What about something to do with our powers? How about Detecta?" She waved cheesy finger guns.Ebony raised an eyebrow. "I think that's worse than mine." She slapped a hand on the counter, sending a few papers to skitter around and resettle. "Maybe, and I think this is a brilliant idea, we live a day with our powers and see what words come to us.""In other words," Ivy stopped pacing back in her original spot and placed her hands on her hips, "later.”

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Most memorable items of clothing in bl series in 2023

In order of their airing/me watching them:

I'm thankful I've gotten into the habit of noting which shows I watch and when otherwise I wouldn’t be able to remember. As it is, first on my list is Bed Friend, which kind of sets the tone for this post since it features the best and the worst outfit choices for Uea. The waffle robes and cat ears vs the fake sleeves shirt.

Next is a quick shout out to Por in My School President, since the show started in 2022 but did finish in 2023, and basically all of his outfits. The man is a style icon. But this stripy polo shirt takes the biscuit for me. I need to have it.

On to Moonlight Chicken and this one is a combined effort between Heart and Li Ming. @telomeke prompted me to write a little about it, but essentially the two shirts together are saying 'you're my other half'. Urthe / Tomato sauce.

The Gloves! Need I say more? (Alright, for those of you who don't know - how could you not?! - they're from Chains of Heart).

And now not strictly an item of clothing but an accessory, the most straight ankle bracelet you'll ever see in a thai series. Totally platonic, not gay AT ALL. In Midnight Museum.

In July the different Thai production companies took stock of three versions of the same stripy linin shirt – the cream long-sleeved, the brown short-sleeved, and the charcoal short-sleeved - and proceeded to clad every actor they could in one of them within a three and a half month period (six shows*, eight different characters). We had couple-shirts with both Kawi and Pisaeng and Mew and Top wearing them, and Namneua in Wedding Plan wore all three. (*Step by Step, Be My Favourite, Hidden Agenda, Wedding Plan, Love in Translation, and Only Friends).

Staying in July for a while, and speaking of weddings, Kawi rocked on up to Pearmai and Not's wedding in Be My Favourite in this brown houndstooth shirt and black pants outfit - an almost exact replica of Ray's outfit in the original pilot trailer for Only Friends. I waited with baited breath to see if Ray would still wear the outfit in the actual series...and he did! Not only that, I then realised Uea had already worn it in Bed Friend earlier in the year.

In a surprising turn of events, Be My Favourite – and Krist – turned out to actually be Quite Good. Perhaps distracted by Krist's puppy eyes, we weren't entirely ready for the first appearance of the Dudes shirt – itself a wonderful comment on the narrative since Kawi was figuring out his feelings for Pisaeng – but it was a delight to see it again on Nick in Only Friends, and offering a different narrative comment.

This next one may only be notable for me, but when I was doing my dedicated scan through of oh so many shows to collect items for the communal wardrobe, I noticed this sand and grey sweater amongst the many other items of shared clothing which appeared in The Warp Effect and then very briefly on Pisaeng in Be My Favourite. Not long after, the trailer for Last Twilight dropped and I spotted it again immediately. I've also since noticed it in a speed scan of The Shipper. Not only do I think it's a pretty neat sweater, but I loved the effect it gave in Last Twilight, which I wrote about at the end of this post.

This is getting long but I'm going to keep going (this might be the only 2023 wrap up I do so I'ma make it count).

If you've been following me for a while (or since the BBS days), you’ll know how rabid I go when I see a pair of the yellow-soled Mustard brand shoes in a show. The most recent being in Hidden Agenda worn by Zo…but they're not the ones on this list. Oh no, it's Joke's blue-soled shoes which made me sit up and scream this time...meaning even their shoes were colour-coded in this show. Oh how I wish I could buy a pair of each.

There were many fabulous outfits in Laws of Attraction (especially Charn's) but Tanthai's green rope shirt wins out for me. Green seemed to be used in the show to represent the lies and secrets Tanthai was forced to keep because of his father, and he was metaphorically bound and trapped in these lies and his life. Ah perfection!

I've mentioned a lot of brilliant items but there have also been many awful ones, and the one I can't seem to stop thinking about (or horrifying over) is the Droopy Tits shirt (or Nipple Protector, whichever way you want to call it) which first appeared in Dangerous Romance and then The Jungle just three days later. I'm surprised we haven't seen it again to be honest, but I imagine if we get more spoiled rich kids we probably will.

These next two aren't specific items but more of a shout out to the whole wardrobe design of the shows.

First, Only Friends, with Mew and Ray's transformation to Ray and Sand's (respective) wardrobe choices, as well as the inversion of colours to highlight differences in relationships, and the use of colour-groupings to separate characters (<- a post i have yet to write). I wish I could write more about it…but life is just too busy to give it the time it needs.

The second is, of course, Ai Di and Chen Yi in Kiseki: Dear to Me with how they always share a colour in their different outfits. @respectthepetty details this perfectly here, so I don't need to. I am however still feral about these two and can't wait to do a full re-watch of the show.

And lastly, much like Baseball Mom in Bad Buddy two years ago (and to be honest many of Pat's other shirts), Aof recently gifted us another absolutely ridiculous but brilliantly poignant t-shirt slogan in Mhok's Fart Proudly shirt in Last Twilight, which I went into detail about here. Just A+

Thanks for sticking with me through all that! Any others that stood out for you or that I missed?

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Skee-bal

@today-in-fic please and thank you :)

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He’d had to haul ass through the airport, dodging everyone and their irritating, unsupervised rolling suitcases and then, huffing and puffing from lack of oxygen, discovered his flight was delayed by an hour at least. He’d dropped his phone in the hurry, four pieces retrieved in the end, one lost under a maintenance door he didn’t have time to find a guy with a key to open. Now, jammed between two men who had to be linebackers for the Broncos, he prayed in some form for as much alcohol as the stewardess could legally allow him.

He got a bag of pretzels and a Sprite.

Linebacker A to his left sneezed towards him.

The uncovered Sprite went untasted.

With the way his life had been going for the past week, this was actually one of the better moments, sadly enough.

Some kind of asinine weather completed his travels, slowing down flying speed and landing possibilities, circling for 45 minutes before hitting the tarmac fast and bumpy, an enlightening nightmare for everyone in the plane but Mulder, who was sandwiched so solidly between Linebacker A and Linebacker B that he never moved an inch, forward or to the side. Wanting to kiss the ground when he finally stepped off the concourse, he hefted his backpack instead and headed to baggage claim.

We will not talk about the incidents at baggage claim except to say that ‘motherfucker’ was repeated silently in his head a multitude of times.

Car, street, traffic, home!

Only to see his tux still hanging on the closet door where he’d left it a week ago as a reminder that he had a party to go to.

The only thing that made him not want to die about this impending shindig was Scully … Scully in a fancy dress … Scully in a fancy dress drinking fancy liquor and eating fancy food and he’d better get in gear or else she’d be looking all fancy but be pissed as hell inside because he’d left here there unprotected from all those people she really didn’t want to spend her Friday night with.

Although they were Smithsonian uppities so she’d have plenty of conversation fodder but no one to rescue her when she got that look on her face he knew only too well.

Regardless, he hurried, showered, shaved, spritzed and shimmied until he looked like a million bucks and some change, finally pulling up to the National Museum of Natural History fashionable late.

&&&&&&&&&&&

She’d had better weeks … but in the grand scheme, she hadn’t been shot at so in the end, it wasn’t a terrible seven days by any means.

Then again, when Ritter had shot her, she’d at least gotten to sleep in.

She’d been up and out the door every morning at 5am, coming home after midnight, hating with a full on passion anyone and everyone who wasn’t Skinner. The paperwork nightmare had avalanched, Mulder not there to offer an answer to her questioned where involving this witness testimony or that scrap of receipt that the entire case hinged on. She couldn’t bother him, knowing he’d just say, “um, maybe behind that thing that related to the other thing or in that drawer,” and send her on a wild goose chase with the thing she needed being neither in the drawer nor behind the other thing but in fact, still in his coat pocket.

Plus, if she called him, he’d go off his game. He’d be thinking about the case she was asking about instead of the serial nightmare he was trying to imprison until the end of time plus another month just for fun.

So, she left him alone.

Mind you, they had talked everyday since he left but usually only after hours, discussing useless things and nonsense, Scully doing her best to quiet his mind so he could get some sleep, think about the questions he needed to answer and the problems, inherent, that came with those answers. She could feel him, across the country, calm, relax, begin to drift off with slow words and slower breaths, eventually telling him a quiet goodnight and an even quieter sleep well.

But now, knowing he’d be landing in 37 minutes, she, for reasons undwellable in that sliver of time, took a little extra care with her makeup, her hair, twisting that escaped curl into an oddly perfect position, knowing he’d move it when it began catching on her eyelashes while she talked to him, tuck it back, linger a moment, turn red when he realized what he was doing, linger another second then remove himself to a safe distance, drink, talk, return to the beginning of their recycled game.

She held the fantasy for .4 seconds then moved to find her shoes.

&&&&&&&&&

Standing across the room, she saw him come in, do the standard ‘stop and scan’, hope to zone in on his partner, catch the subtle red-hair, pale skin amongst taller, irritatingly grouped men in black.

Men in black.

He was a man in black tonight.

He was amused.

‘Cause … you know … men in black.

Wow, he really needed a nap or a drink, whichever came first.

But on Scully’s end, she saw him unable to find her, turn the wrong direction, head polar opposite to what she figured correctly as the food tables. When he couldn’t find her, he always headed to the next best spot, knowing she’d show up eventually, given he knew her stomach just as well as she did. About to head his way, she wasn’t paying close enough attention and the accosting took her by surprise, finding her suddenly surrounded by four gangly employees whom she had worked with many times and were, from what she could comprehend given her mind was still on Mulder, asking her if she’d like a tour of the archives downstairs.

The boys were nice, polite but slightly overenthusiastic about all things insect, vertebrate, legged and winged and taking into account how much they had helped her and Mulder over the years, she felt a tugging obligation to follow, listen, offer interest in all the proper places when she really wanted a rum and coke and to talk to Mulder.

But she was some kind of decent human being so she gave her tour guides almost an hour before she begged off, claiming starvation and need to circulate for the good of the FBI, her boss, the world in general.

They were just happy they got to show off for her.

&&&&&&&&&

It was indeed a fancy dress and by the time it sidled up beside him, he had seen it, cataloged it, burned it into his memory for all eternity. The partner wearing it wasn’t bad herself, a smile creeping across his face slowly but surely as she walked towards him, scooting in beside as opposed to across the table like normal partners would.

He was very glad they weren’t normal partners.

“So, where have you been hiding?”

“Kidnapped by McMaster, Philips, Squeegie and Tom.”

Sliding his drink into her waiting hand, “you need this more than I do.”

Grateful for the share, she drank, then, “they showed me the archive … downstairs.”

“Downstairs? Sounds ominous. You should have let me tag along.” Shifting his head down towards her, “any of them work up the nerve to ask for a date yet?”

“Squeegie took a deep breath and said ‘Agent Scully’ but then stopped, started sweating and proceeded to lecture for 20 minutes on Acherontia Atropos. It’s the closest he’s gotten so far.” Finishing off the last swallow of his slightly watered-down drink, she looked at him critically, “we should go get some more of those.”

With a grin, “you go grab some food, I’ll get the drinks and meet you back here in two minutes.”

“Deal.” Tugging at his jacket, “leave this here so people know the table’s claimed. I don’t need anymore irritating small talk tonight. I’ve done enough.”

Removing the coat, “back in a flash.” Flash indeed, minute forty-five to be precise, beating his partner by two minutes, able to watch her return with several heaping plates of nibbling nonsense, balanced alone by some act of God, given the height of her heels and the alcohol just beginning to tease her system. He knew it, could see that shine in her eyes and wanting to smile wider than he already was, he held it in, instead reaching out to take a plate, “I beat you back.”

“I had to fight for the last meatballs for you. Hopefully I didn’t leave a bruise on Dennison.”

He honestly, for half a second, wondered if she was serious but then she waved a toothpicked piece of meat under his nose and he didn’t care anymore. Taking it, devouring it, proceeding through three more, he finally slowed, “how’s your drink?”

“Empty. Thanks for bringing me two.”

“Just don’t slam this one or I’ll be pouring you into bed later.”

And he watched her fumble her salami encircled cream-cheese attempt at filling food, nearly dropping it to the table before she recovered with a stutter, “I’ll … I’ve never … I do not slam drinks, Mulder.”

“Okay, little Miss empty glass.”

Hardly in a spot to deny it, given the empty glass in front of her, she shrugged those well-defined, muscle-sculpted shoulders to throw him off his own game a little then nudged him with her foot, “did I tell you you clean up pretty well?”

“You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

“Not too bad?”

Leaning over, leaning in, leaning down, “give me a little while and there’s a really good chance I’ll be telling you that you are the most beautiful person in this room, probably DC and possibly the world.”

That was a nice shot of warmth through her system and trying to keep her voice even, “little while?”

“Need some more liquid courage. Give me 20 minutes, tops.”

“I think you said it just fine without the liquor or the time limit.”

Warming himself, he returned to the plates, fully ready to eat his way through the pile of cheese, “just help me eat some of this, would you?”

With a smile, she did.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Skinner found them shortly after, then several others they’d worked with on occasion, both happily and irritatingly but Benson took the cake, berating Mulder, belittleing Scully and, in the ultimate gesture of asshole-ness, grabbing her ass.

No one saw the ass-grabbing but they definitely saw Scully’s wrist grab, arm twist, drop that fucker to the ground before she broke his shoulder move a moment later. Leaving him in a whimpering pile of crumple suit and tears, she calmly returned to her drink, fourth now by Mulder’s count, third by hers but who cared given he had never been so proud, feeling the need to cheer, to clap, then kick Benson neatly into next week.

Once Benson had been removed and things had returned to stifling party norm, Mulder came back in close as he had earlier, whispering in the general direction of her ear, “I know just what you need.”

Still feeling phantom hand on real ass, she didn’t care what the hell he might have been implying with that loaded statement, she just knew she was going to follow him and she might as well not beat around the bush, so, with a nod, pointing towards the sea of empty glasses in front of her, “I’ll be needing one of those to go.”

“I don’t think they have lids and straws.”

Already moving from the table, “well, we’ll figure something out.” The moment she moved, she winced, “but regardless, I need out of these damn shoes.”

Not giving a rip about the rest of the ballroom, he took her hand, “I will get you out of those damn shoes as soon as I can.”

&&&&&&&&&

He definitely got her out of the damn shoes but not her clothes, as had crossed his mind at some point after the third Rum and Coke. Instead, she was standing, barefoot, in a calf-length, deep-blue dress, hair falling from that girly twist she’d done, debating the best aim for her last throw.

“Hey, Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“If you hit the 100, I’ll buy you a piece of pizza.”

“Get out your wallet.”

And buy he did, a whole pie actually, half for her, half for him and she treated to the pitchers of beer, “I love that this place has Skee-bal and $2 pitchers after 11.”

“Told you I knew just what you needed.”

Eyes twinkling at him over the edge of her glass, she took a long drink before, “it’ll do in a pinch.”

Well, geez.

He really didn’t need to hear that while she wore that dress with those painted toes exposed and up beside him on the booth, bottoms of her feet dirty, smooth legs …

“Ready for another game?”

Tapping his thigh with those same painted toes, “games are good but my feet are getting cold and I’ve been up since 5 this morning. I’d also really like to get out of this dress and into something in a nice purple plaid flannel.”

“Wool socks perhaps?”

Scrunching toes, she nodded, “yes, please.”

Soon in his car, he debated taking her back to the museum to get hers but seeing her falling asleep in the seat beside him, he nudged her arm, leaning in closer, not wanting to startle too much, “hey, why don’t I take you home and we’ll get your car in the morning?”

Barely registering words, English, surroundings, she burrowed into her coat, mumbling something he needed her to repeat, her lips practically touching his ear, “your place.”

“Scully?”

Suddenly awake, understanding her words and his, she sat up, shook her head, “um, sorry. Actually, if you just want to take me to my car, I’ll be fine to drive home.”

Not really sure what had twisted the gravity between them in the last four seconds, “I … I don’t … are you sure? A minute ago you were practically asleep.”

Embarrassment flooding over the last six hours of back and forth between them, she gave him a passing glance and refocused out the window again, “I’ll be fine.”

Slippery slope, uneven ground, unexplored territory, he put the car in drive, worried and just the slightest bit completely pissed off, “okay.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Dropping her off at her car, she called good-night over her shoulder, then, shutting the door, left him even more irritated and before he could decide to be a complete ass, she drove off without so much as a wave out the window.

He chewed on this for a few minutes, then, given time and talent for going off the deep end, he aimed the car in her direction, driving to her apartment automatically, pulling up and noticing, to his surprise, her sitting on the stoop in front of the main door. Not the warmest of nights, his irritation with her cooled with the temperature as he approached her, settled beside her, put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him, “what’s wrong with us?”

“Nothing … everything …” leaning in closer, “it’s too early for this conversation and I’m too tired to curb any revelatory confessions.” Moving to stand, “go home, Mulder. Thank you for shoeless Skee-bal and cheap beer but I need to go inside and get some sleep.”

“Why didn’t you go inside when you got home?”

“Because I knew you’d be coming and I didn’t want to have to deal with you at my own door.”

Irritation was beginning to simmer yet again, “deal with me? What about my having to deal with you? I ask you if you want me to bring you home and you freak out, jump out of the car, pretend you’re awake enough to drive? I just wanted to bring you home so you didn’t fall asleep and die trying to be all independent!”

“Both I and the neighbors would appreciate you not yelling anymore, thank you very much.”

Still looking up at her, he boiled over, “I am not yelling! Fuck,” realizing he might not have been yelling but he was indeed louder than a midnight dark street warranted, “I just wanted to make sure you got home all right.”

Giving him a long look from above, contemplating his tired countenance, she shut her eyes, debating the universe as a whole as it applied to her relationship with Mulder, “I got home fine but I’m not sure you will so come inside. I’ve got semi-warm socks and old sweatpants that have seen better decades and I stole from you three years ago anyway and you can have back in you really want.”

“I’m fine.”

Collaring him, she tugged back slightly, “don’t try to ‘I’m fine’ the queen of ‘I’m fining’ … would you just come inside?”

She could see the wheels churning then slowly grinding to a halt before, “why do we make things so hard?”

Now she ruffled through his hair before giving his skull a good squeeze, “easy is not in our nature.”

As he stood, “you’re telling me.”

&&&&&&&&&

Inside the door, closed and locked, bolted and braced against the outside world, she discarded her shoes, dropping her several inches lower, further from him, but unmoving otherwise, head tilted up to see him, “sleep or drink?”

“Liquor or water?”

“Water, Mulder, definitely water. The last thing we need to pour on the nightmare of us is alcohol.”

“We are not a nightmare, Scully. We are just an exhausted mess. There’s a difference.”

Half wishing water wasn’t the correct choice, “it’s a blurry difference at best.”

Pulling her towards him, he kissed her forehead, “if it were an hour earlier, I’d have demanded the liquor but now, I’d just like the socks and sweatpants, please.”

Scully took his hand, pulling him towards the bedroom, “this way.” Inner sanctum bedroom swathed in shadow, she dug up aforementioned clothing by feel alone, handing him pants, t-shirt and socks, “I threw in your Barney Rubble shirt for good measure.”

And they stood, statued, in the dark, handful of clothes between them until, in a hushed voice, edge of sleep sharp, “do you sleep in my clothes?”

Silent but steady, she walked backwards, dug under her pillow and without pretense, pulled a shirt over her head, groped herself for a moment, undid a zipper and a clasp, dress dropping to her feet. Stepping out of it, she returned in front of him, “yes.”

He studied his beloved rag of washed out cotton Big Bird shirt as it sloped over breast and hung to mid- thigh, “do you think about me when you’re falling asleep?”

She nodded.

“Do you dream about me after you have?”

Another nod.

She would hear him thinking fractured, speed of light thoughts but she waited, wondering which direction things would go, until, “I would like to say something but I’m not going to get it right but I’ll try so just … wait until I’m done, okay?”

Third nod made his heart pound.

But he managed words, “I have never seen you more beautiful than right now, wearing my shirt, naked underneath.” He bit his lip, stumbling over the word naked, “and I’d like to, in the future, come to the conclusion that this isn’t as hard as we make it out to be and the only thing wrong with us is the logic of two illogical idiots.”

Scully invaded his space enough to tug at the bottom of his dress shirt, unbuttoning quickly from waist to neck, “help me get your pajamas on and we can crawl into that bed behind me and sleep until we wake up. After that, we can talk but right now, Mulder, sleep.”

He let her drop his shirt to the floor and pull Barney Rubble over his head, smooth material over chest while Mulder undid buckle and belt, pants exchanged swiftly for sweat, dark socks for gray, “left side or right?”

“Left for now but I can’t guarantee I won’t end up in the middle.”

“Fair enough.” Once hunkered down, buried and burrowed, “Scully?”

“Yeah.”

Through layers of comforter and sheet, he found her face, eyes closing fast, finally moving to shift that section of hair from her eyelashes so he could see her clearly, “in the car, why did you say you wanted to go to my place?”

Before she could shut herself up, “because you have that nice, warm water bed and I was cold.” When he just lay there staring at her, she whispered another ‘g’night’ and drifted off, leaving him to wonder just where she would have made him sleep.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Missed Connections ~ Steve Rogers x Reader College!AU (Part 2/7)

A/N: Hi my lovelies! Happy weekend! I decided to continue this one and it refused to be put second to Primary Colors lol. Just kidding I’ve been writing both but this one got finished first so I figured I’d share. Enjoy! 

Summary: It’s been a whole semester of missed connections with Steve, will you talk to him before you head home for break? 

Characters/Pairings: Eventual Steve x Reader, Natasha, Pepper, Bruce, Tony, Wanda, Bucky, Sam, Thor, Clint and Vision mentioned (like I said, the whole gang) 

Rating: T (minor language) 

Warnings: Nothing really 

Word count: 2013 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

“I’m loving the earmuff and peacoat combo, y/n.”

“Thanks,” You smiled at Wanda as you waited for the subway.

“I’m partial to the pompom hat look,” Natasha grinned.

“I didn’t want to mess up my hair,” you admitted.

“Hoping to run into somebody?” Tony asked as he waggled his eyebrows.

You glared at Pepper’s boyfriend who shrugged as he held her hand. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

Tony had been extremely amused when he heard about your “ships in the night” romance as he liked to call it. And he took every opportunity to tease you about it.  

“If you run into him today, will you please talk to him?” Pepper begged.

Your friends had been pressuring you to strike up a conversation all semester, but so far you had only managed to smile and wave (which you considered an accomplishment). The conversation was interrupted when the subway arrived and you all hurried in. Luckily the car was almost empty so you sat on either side of the aisle.

“So? Will you?” Tony prompted.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Come on, running into him on campus is one thing. Running into him roaming around the city is a sign.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a sign,” you conceded. “If I see him tonight, I’ll go say hi.”

Your friends cheered, excited you were finally going to take a leap.

“How come it wasn’t a sign when we saw him at the museum?”

“Bruce!” you hissed.

“Wait, wait, wait. You saw him at the museum?”

You sighed and glared at Bruce before answering.

“We may have passed each other when we were roaming through the modern art wing.”

“And the Aztec wing, and the China wing,” Bruce added unhelpfully.

“So that’s why you were so happy when you got back. I assumed you just really liked art.”

You rolled your eyes at Pepper’s observation.

“That boy’s face is art,” Wanda sighed wistfully.

“Forget about his face. His ass is art.” Nat winked at you and you flushed scarlet.

It was a relief when you finally got to the tree lighting, because your friend’s were too busy enjoying the holiday cheer to rag on you. The six of you roamed around, popping into stores to do some holiday shopping.

The rest of your friends went to stake out a good spot to watch the tree lighting from while you purchased the ornaments you had picked out for your parents. By the time you had made it through the line, the marketplace was filled to the brim and you had no idea where your friends were.

When none of them answered your calls or texts you decided to just weave through the crowd towards the front. You had made it about twenty feet when you saw him. He and his friends stood well above most of the crowd and even in the chaos his laugh was recognizable.

You froze. He hadn’t seen you yet and you still had no idea where your friends were. You could either walk towards him and hope he noticed you or you could walk the total opposite direction. Before you could make your decision you heard Nat yell your name.

You finally spotted your friends standing on the stone wall that surrounded one of the trees. You caught her eye and waved and started weaving through the crowd. Once you had fought your way through to them you eyed the two foot wall warily.

“Get up here, y/n!”

You planted your foot on the wall and pushed with all of your might but it wasn’t quite enough and you were quickly falling backwards. Before you could hit the ground though, a pair of hands grabbed you and pulled you up.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

“No problem. You alright?’ He asked still holding onto your hands.

You nodded and self-consciously fixed your jacket as you glanced at your friends. Clint and Viz had joined the group so everyone was paired off except for you and Bruce. You and he shared a wry smile as you stood together.

Tony had tried to set you up on multiple occasions. And Bruce was a good friend but you just weren’t attracted to him. Besides he had a massive crush on this girl, Betty, in your bio lecture. Still more often than not you were the awkward single friends together. It was a comfortable arrangement, so it was no surprise when he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you wrapped yours around his waist.

As you listened to the last few performers before the tree was lit, your eyes scanned the crowd. You easily spotted Steve and his friends. They were all looking at you, but before you could smile and wave, they abruptly turned around and you frowned.

Hoping it was just a coincidence you focused on the music and the lights. It really was beautiful. Once the crowd thinned after the tree was lit, your group made your way to the front to take pictures. Once Tony started formulating plans to steal an ornament off the tree that was surrounded by security guards, you all decided it was time to go.

When you got back to your dorm you passed Steve on the way to the elevator and smiled and waved, but his return smile was just a bit dimmer than normal. You wanted to say something but before you had the chance he was gone.

You didn’t have time to look for or even really think about Steve in the following week. You were in the Science building by five a.m. every morning and you left long after midnight. You pretty much only came out to take your exams.  

By the time you finished your last final (you had the last exam slot in the entire week, naturally) you were exhausted and all you wanted was food and your bed. You groaned internally when you walked into the dining hall and realized they had closed the majority of it since most people had headed home.

You unenthusiastically loaded your plate with pizza and grabbed a drink before trying to find a seat. Clearly the dining hall had overestimated how many people would leave early for the holidays because every chair was taken and every booth was filled. You made one final loop before spotting an empty chair at a corner table, a table full of Steve’s friends, although he was nowhere in sight.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to walk over to them. You felt like there was lead in your stomach as you approached the rambunctious table.

They abruptly stopped talking when they noticed you.

“Hi,” you squeaked out. “Do you mind if I borrow that chair?”

There weren’t really any open tables but you could just sit in a corner somewhere.

“Why don’t you just join us?” The dark haired boy who you saw Steve with most often offered.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you shook you head slightly.

He grinned and you knew immediately he was aware of how charming he was.  

“You’re not, doll. I promise.”

“Well, thank you. I’m y/n by the way.”

“Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”  

You slid into the open chair and took a sip of your water as the other two guys introduced themselves. Their names were Thor and Sam.

“So, y/n, what’s your major?” Sam asked.

“General biology. For now,” you added before biting into your pizza.  

“Are you thinking about changing?”  

“Probably not changing, but I might specialize. What about you guys?”

“Poli Sci and Econ,” Thor reported. “Kind of a family thing.”

He didn’t sound thrilled and you nodded understandingly.

“I’m a psych major. And Bucky’s an engineer,” he added elbowing him when he noticed his friend was busy texting.

“What?” he looked up suddenly. “Yeah. Engineer.”

“I’ve seen you around the science building,” you admitted nonchalantly.

You so desperately wanted to ask about Steve but you didn’t want to be creepy. They all smirked though at your comment. Obviously you hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Stevie and I have seen you around too.”

“Oh is he an engineer too?”

Bucky snorted slightly.

“No. He’ll probably be bio. He’s pushing off declaring an actual major until the last possible second. Aka May of this year. But he is pre-med. Which is why we’re taking orgo right now. Actually, I think we have orgo with your boyfriend.”

You gave him a confused look.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Sam and Thor looked smug and Bucky looked relieved.

“Really? Dark-haired, glasses, really smart.”

It clicked then.

“Oh you mean, Bruce.”

“Yeah. Him.”

“We’re not dating,” You chuckled. “We’re just the only single friends in our group so we get shoved together all the time.”  

“Got it.”

After a moment of awkward silence, you asked about their plans for break.

“Sleeping. And eating home cooked meals,” Bucky grinned.

“Sounds about right,” you agreed.

“Excuse me. I’ve got to make a call.”

You smiled and turned your attention to Sam and Thor.

“What about you two?”

They were both going to spend some time hitting the slopes and their conversation quickly devolved into an argument about which snow conditions were the best. You used the distraction to finally scarf down the pizza.

When you glanced at your watch you realized that it was after nine and you still had to pack for your five a.m. flight.

“It was really nice meeting you both. I hope you have a great winter break.”

“You’re leaving?” Thor asked, disappointed.  

“I’ve got to pack. I need to be at the airport in a few hours.”

“Well, have a great break. I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

“Say bye to Bucky for me.”

You quickly dumped your dishes on the conveyor belt and exited the dining hall. You were waiting for the elevator when the fact that you were done finally hit you and you started to do a little happy dance. You weren’t expecting the doors to slide open to reveal a yawning Steve as you were doing said happy dance.

“Just finish finals?” he asked, clearly trying to hold back laughter.

“That obvious?” you asked as you switched places in the elevator.

You were surprised your voice came out as steady as it did, considering most of your brain was cataloguing what he looked after a nap (you suspected). His hair was stuck up at odd angles and he was wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a half-zipped hoodie without anything under it. Your imagination was having a field day.  

He shrugged. “That’s a classic post finals happy dance.”

The elevator started dinging angrily for you to either get in or out at the same time his phone started ringing.

“See ya. Have a good break,” you said quickly before hitting the button for your floor.

“You too. Oh, wait.”

He started to say something else but the doors closed before he got it out. You leaned against the wall heavily as you giggled to yourself. You were slightly mortified but mostly you were just giddy.

As you were waiting to board your plane, your phone vibrated twice. Once for a facebook notification and once for a text from the group chat you had with the girls.

You opened the facebook notification first. It was a tag from Natasha in another Missed Connections post.

MC#578: To the beautiful y/h/c girl who I (still) see all the time. I finally got to talk to you tonight but I was too flustered by your killer post finals happy dance that I didn’t manage to catch your name. But I’m still calling it progress. Next time maybe I’ll manage to introduce myself. But for now thanks for ending my semester on a high note. Have a great break. See you in January.

You covered your mouth as you tried to suppress the giddiness that was rising. When you managed to get it under control you opened the text. It was a one word command from Nat.

Natasha (4:15AM): SPILL!

Unfortunately for her that would have to wait until you landed.

A/n: So there you go. A little bit more fluff. I am going to continue this story. I have like three more parts planned so let me know if you want to be tagged! As always thanks for reading and feedback is appreciated! 

Tag Lists are Open! 

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[still-finding-our-way]

R5, R6

(SX 540672) 12/12/ 2020

Serendipity, rhizomes and lines. 

On my studio desk I have a number of rocks, stones and pebbles. None are particularly rare or precious, most have been collected locally yet every one is an object of beauty. One such stone is a sharp piece of flint. Small enough to hold in my palm, it has become my go to de-stress stone. I like to let its razor sharp edges bite, just a bit, into soft skin. My teasing wake up call. It has volume and weight, four planes—a tetra. One side runs smooth, curving to meet a granular knobbly surface, bone-like and skeletal, like the indenture of a clavicle or ankle bone. The underside of the stone is cut sheer, sliced through its core, creating a flat expanse onto which it is able to stand upright, before rising into a terraced plane, each step the size of a thumb print, a patternation that reveals the cryptocrystalline formation of flint (‘crypto’ meaning ‘secret’ or ‘hidden’). I found it on a beach in Cornwall. A dark grey stone with a white thread running through its centre. Its shape and size tickles my imagination, and as I turn the flint over in my hand I play with the idea that it was used as a Neolithic arrowhead, chipped away, stone on stone some 5000 years ago. The structure of flint requires a level of skill and expertise to shape; one wrong strike will send fracture lines through the stone rendering it useless as a tool. Our early ancestors were artisans and makers. Over and over, I have drawn this stone, feeling it’s texture, the sharp edges and definite weight in my palm. It does not take up much space and yet every time I draw it, a different angle or plane opens up. It is never the same. A small rock, inert and fixed, offering infinite possibilities.

You think you know something, someone, some place. A line on the horizon, a spit away from the sea and moor. Clambering over rocks, swimming in icy rivers and streams, climbing trees and making dens. 'Whence cam'st thou, mighty thane', pronounces Duncan in Act 1 of Macbeth. The utterance of such a question now comes with a cautionary red flag, one that implies exclusion and ‘you are not from here’. Too bad, coming from a white working class background, where histories and lives are lost, undocumented and unrecorded, I have no idea where my roots are tangled. I cometh from nowhere, no fixed abode, shallow rooted, spun together by frail relatives that can’t, or don’t want to, remember. To remedy this unknown, I was gifted by my eldest daughter a DNA test for my 50th birthday. The results from my spit reveal a blueprint that aligns with peoples who cluster around the North East of England, with a smattering of Swedish, Norwegian, Icelandic, Scottish and Irish. Farmers and seafarers I suspect, a web of people who somehow managed to survive hunger and disease, violence and brutality, the lustful fumble in the hay and the traumatic birth. The odds were not good—about one in 400 trillion chance of being born according to the boffins. In staking a claim on the improbability of existence we got lucky, very lucky.

Where we come from and who we are. Layers of paint, fresh applications, still wet bleeding into others, making new colours and new pictures. Blending and binding. Some work and some don’t. It seems so arbitrary how we come to be. I should make time to salute the stream of past people, winding all the way back to the bones of dear Lucy, 3.2 million years ago, and her mother and grand-mother, all coming and going, doing their time. But, I won’t, it's enough to breathe in the noise of now. One heart beat, a blink of the eye and we are gone. Serendipity, luck, random, the throw of the dice. The cells didn’t bind in the correct sequence and the possibility of life just slipped down the toilet. Is it any wonder we seek out patterns to create order and structure, finding comfort in numbers and story; assigning value in the unexpected, and agreeableness in what wasn’t sought. Ones and zero’s, lines and dots, giving shape to all things. Artists do this all the time. Seeking opportunity in the accidental and unintended. Any stick, stone, door, book, conversation opening up new creative possibilities. The rhizomes seeking out a good place to settle, a place to nourish. The patterns, whether real or not, helping to make sense of the intensity of the here and now. 

Jennie’s story is fascinating. Her blue eyes, flaxen hair and Bridget Bardot pout might have you thinking she is of Swedish heritage, whilst my dark skin, hair and black eyes has in the past suggested Mediterranean roots. Not so, the paint palette is muddied. I will let Jennie tell her story. One thing to note here though, Jennie is an adventurer, she has travelled all over the world: on her own, through work, with friends and lovers. Occasionally I have joined her but mostly I skirt the edges of Western art history, moseying around European capital cities, museums and galleries. Both of us are wanderers in different ways. Parallel lines. The same but different. I am amused to read that women of ‘a certain age’ partake in what Jennie and I are doing—walking and exploring local history. I also note the term ‘a certain age’ is often used to describe middle-aged women, usually accompanied by a roll of the eyes and a double-fingered quotation sign. It is basically code for women no longer of a fertile age—post 40 and therefore deemed unattractive, and given age tends to gift experience (though not always) they carry a certain confidence i.e., speak their mind and know what they want.  

A simple stone. We are breathing, blinking and unstill. 

We ask ourselves how did we not know about this walk? It is literally a stones throw from Jennie’s parents village, just over the hill yonder, where Jennie spent her teenage years and part of her adulthood, and where I lived for awhile whilst homeless and lovelorn. Of all the places on Dartmoor this is an area that I would confidently say we know well, and yet here we are discovering new trails, hidden valleys, different perspectives and layers and layers of history, a thread of which connects with Jennie’s recent travel’s with her son to the other side of the world. The walk begins in the small Devon village of Meavy on the southwest of Dartmoor, a place I have cycled and walked through many times, enjoying a sup or two at the Royal Oak on the way. The route follows the river Meavy upstream to Burrator dam not far from Down Tor, where Jennie first set this adventure in motion as we glugged champagne and watched the setting of a glorious October sun. From Burrator, the road winds through Sheepstor village and into the woods where earlier in the year, at the height of bluebell season, I waited with my children for the badger's to come out. Hunkered down amongst bramble and fern at dusk, quiet as mice, hearing the birds hush and darkness settle. The children were not scared but reverent and awed by being in the woods at night, a time and place synonymous with the darker side of fairytales: of wolves, witches and being lost, and where the unknown and the unformed lurk. We whispered and signed to each other in the darkening gloom, until we no longer needed words and laid back in a bed of fern, faces turned upwards, watching the patchwork of sky between the canopy high above turn from indigo to midnight blue and then merge dark into the tall trees, the cool air lulling us to sleep. 

The ax strikes and life reclaims as swift as the blade can cut. My hand brushes the damp surface of a lopped off tree stump in the woods down from the reservoir, and I stop to observe a platter of squirming, burrowing, scuttling, squirrelling, decaying life; three empty acorn shells evidence a previous luncheon. I have set the objective to notice more when I am on these walks, to seek out habitat changes and to learn and know the names of things. But always I surrender to just being, breathing in the light and air, the atmosphere. I feel happy on these walks, a sense of euphoria and lightness washing over. It feels good to leave aside the cerebral and to let the physical, the motion of walking awaken a realm of sensing and scanning. She doesn’t say but I know Jennie has arranged this walk pre-Christmas because she is aware I am struggling with sadness—a sadness caused by my natural melancholia and tendency to ruminate, and a much bigger life crisis. Battle hardened to general romantic crisis’ I am not so experienced with career rifts, and so I have withdrawn and pulled down the blinds. But it won’t do and I know, as Jennie does, that the moor will help to alleviate the mental muddle I am in, and even if the effects are only temporary, it will store up the memory bank, to plunder and remember during the times when I get locked in. 

Ten minutes into the walk Jennie spots a Heron standing stock still in the woods by the river Meavy. Camouflaged against the bare trees, charcoal grey and ochre, we watch it rise and drift across the valley. Great grey wings, near 6ft in span, pulse slowly, its head and neck arrow-like thrust forward piercing space. It has a primordial presence. In mythology it is linked to the sacred Ibis, a bird revered by the Egyptians as representing Thoth—their god of wisdom, writing and magic. I take it as a good omen. The wood is dazzling, ice cold water tumbling down from Burrator reservoir. Wood, rock and foliage glisten from the early morning downfall, the ground water-logged from weeks of incessant rain. The element of water is strong here, 4210 mega litres—enough to quench the thirst of a city and the surrounding hinterland—held in check by towering granite slabs that form a 23.5 metre high gorge. Completed in 1898 and extended in 1923, the reservoir pools run-off from the surrounding moor and water from the river Meavy. Standing downstream from the dam in the wooded valley I hope the granite wall holds strong. The sun breaks through and turns up the volume on colour. Saturated greens: acid, moss, lichen, pine and fern. We watch a man on the other side of the steep valley, oblivious to our presence, pissing freely, a spray of urine forming a perfect arc; glinting golden droplets catching the sunlight.

Having learned nothing from our previous walks we decided not to take the obvious path and instead followed the course of the river upstream. This meant having to clamber over rocks and fallen trees, until we reach the imposing dam wall and are forced to scrabble up the steep bank, thick with mud, to get back on the road. Jennie leads the way, an experienced hash runner not deterred by the muddy terrain, she turns into a sure-footed mountain goat, while I, slip-sliding, defy gravity and somehow fall up the slope. Walking over Burrator bridge we pass the man we saw pissing earlier and beam broadly, making sure we hold eye contact for a bit longer than comfortable for him. We then follow the road up to Sheepstor village, and—given we are women of ‘a certain age’—we are keen to nosey round St Leonards, the C15th village church. But sadly, the door is locked so instead we admire the Lych gate, a covered over a double gate with a lychstone to rest the coffin before entering (‘Lych’ or ‘lich’ meaning corpse in Old English). At the time I did not notice the foliate skull carving above the main door, only a little while later when we sat for lunch under a massive oak tree, which we reckoned to be near on 500 years old given the size of its girth, do I undertake a little online searching and read to Jen a short history of the church and its whereabouts.

So intrigued by what I find that I go back a couple days later, this time with my dog and younger children in tow. In particular I wanted to see the foliate skull above the porch. In recent years there has been a growing interest in Pagan symbology such as the ‘Green Man’ and the ‘Three Hares’, several examples of which can be found in churches across Dartmoor. The ‘Green Man’ is usually represented as a carved face with foliage growing from the head, mouth, nose, ears and eyes. It is presumed to be a pre-christian Pagan symbol representing renewal and life—from death comes life—that has been absorbed into Christian ideas of resurrection and life after death. Often found in churches and cathedrals across Europe, its more macabre cousin, the foliate skull, is said to have appeared after the Black Death in the 14th century. The skull at St Leonards church is carved with ears of wheat sprouting from the eye sockets above an hourglass. The suggested date of its making is given as 1640 and it is suspected to have originally been part of a sundial. Now it sits behind glass in a small recess above the porch, and on this particular day was partially obscured by condensation so I could not see the inscription incorporated into the sculpture: ‘UT HORA SIC VITA’ (As the hour so life passes), ’MORS JANUA VITA’ - (Death is the door of life) and ‘ANIMA REVERTET’ (the soul will return).

As a motif representing vegetation, rebirth and resurrection, the ‘Green Man’ archetype is found in many cultures across the world, including the ancient Egyptian God Osiris, the god of fertility, agriculture, death and resurrection, who is often depicted as green skinned, alongside several green figures found in Nepal, India, Iraq and Lebanon, the latter dated to the 2nd century. I wonder how far the Green Man story goes back? As a cross cultural archetype it suggests a commonality of belief about the life cycle that is interconnected with the land. Whilst its incorporation into ecclesiastical architecture alongside other apparent Pagan motifs, points to the fluidity and evolution of belief systems, which subsume and build on pre-existing ideas, even when the incoming authority seems most rigid and contained. Most of the what we know about the ‘Green Man’ is based on speculation and supposition, as we have no historical evidence as to why and for what reason they were made. Instead the ‘Green Man’ motif has been reclaimed and remoulded at various points in history from Romanticism to Neo-Paganism and most recently as a symbol for the environmental movement.

A little village church under the shadow of the looming granite tor on the southern edge of Dartmoor, connected through culture and shared beliefs with a much wider world and history. If the Green Man does not provide enough evidence of these interconnections, then the large sarcophagus, protected by iron railings in the churchyard, and housing the remains of James Brooke, First Rajah of Sarawak (29 April 1803 – 11 June 1868) alongside two other White Rajahs should affirm the connections without doubt. It was whilst peeling the shell off hard-boiled eggs, freshly laid by my chickens that morning, at the foot of the big oak tree that Jennie realised that she had previously encountered the story of James Brooke whilst travelling through Borneo with her son. A sultry jungle, 7,000 miles away on the other side of the world tied by empire and colonialism, violence, power and trade to this peaceable village. I find out a little more about James, the questions concerning his sexuality and love for men stick with me more than the dates, titles, skirmishes and conquests. I go back again to the church on new years day and with fresh snow on the ground, sipping steaming hot chocolate on the bench overlooking Brooke’s slab of a tombstone, I retell the story of what I know to my children. They hang off the iron railings and argue over the remains of the Christmas chocolate, I don’t think they were listening.

SC

Reading: Lyon, N., (2016) Uprooted: On the trail of the green man (London, Faber & Faber).

https://www.legendarydartmoor.co.uk/sheepstor_church

[parkerparlour]

Frosting and Dancing - Peter Parker

Summary: Peter knocks on your window late at night, summoning you for a swing around the city and a date.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None, just fluff!

A/N: Just a fluffy piece that I wanted to get out bc it’s so sweet. Still kinda struggling between if I want to write in 1st person or 2nd person, but I'll figure it out eventually! ;) Honestly, if you have a preference please let me know!

You've been sitting in your bed for a while, scrolling on your phone, unable to fall asleep. There's no particular reason, you’re just not sleepy. You huff when you’ve refreshed your feed five times in a row, dropping your phone to the side in order to free your hands to rub your eyes.

As your fingers are pressing down on your eyes, a sudden rapping noise comes from your window. You jolt up, eyes wide, staring straight at the source of the noise. You sigh in relief once you see the person there - Peter, in his suit without the mask so you can see his face. Standing, you walk over and slide the window open. He starts talking as soon as the window is cracked.

"Hey, Y/N! I was wondering if… you'd.. want to go out tonight?" He looks at your pajamas, realizing that it's a little later than he thought. He had gotten caught up in a crime and it took a while before he could get over to your place.

"I… sure? But I'm not putting on any makeup or doing anything fancy, okay? It's too late." Usually you have standards, but not after midnight.

He grins, "Of course - your natural face is gorgeous, anyway."

You roll your eyes but smile at the compliment. "Smooth, Pete. I'm gonna get dressed, give me a second," you say, stepping back. Peter slides in through the window, closing it behind him. He plants himself on the edge of your bed, waiting patiently.

You rummage around for some clothes before going to the bathroom to change, staying as quiet as possible to avoid waking your parents, who went to bed a couple hours ago. Sliding on a pair of leggings and a tee with an oversized sweater, you feel as ready as you'll get for a time that’s close to midnight. Taking a glance in the mirror, you fix the pillow-mussed-hair you have before leaving and heading back.

Sliding back into your room, Peter eyes your outfit appreciatively. He thinks you look beautiful in anything, even your previous pajamas. His eyes linger on a little patch you’ve ironed onto the sweater, a little Spidey-head right over your heart. He loves it. He stands, gesturing to the window. "Ready?"

You nod and follow him out the window, making sure you have the key to it so you can get back in later. Peter pauses just outside to pull his mask on, then reaching a hand out to you. You take it with a grin and he pulls you close. You already know what this means - a swing through the city. Your hands wind their way around his neck as he picks you up with ease, wrapping your legs tight around his waist. You tuck your chin into the comfortable spot between his neck and shoulder, ready to go.

Peter keeps one hand around you as he takes off, the thick "twhip" sound like music to your ears. Despite it being so late, you'd take a swing with Peter over sleep any day, and tonight you weren’t sleeping anyway. The scenery flies by, and you remember the first time you did this, how sick it made you feel to see the buildings moving so fast. Like a roller coaster with the speed dialed to “not legal” levels. You're used to it now, of course, but it was a little embarrassing when you threw up before. You avoid that particular memory, switching focus.

Your eyes scan all over and try to identify where Peter is taking you, to what rooftop. Just passed the history museum so not there. Not that really cute café either. Eventually you settle to just wait it out, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of Peter holding you close, his warmth radiating from his chest to yours. You press a kiss to his shoulder and feel his smile against your head.

It doesn't take long to get to the destination and Peter comes to a landing, patiently waiting as you unhook from him. Despite getting used to the trips, your legs still feel like jelly every time you land. It's weird going from weightlessness to gravity again.

When you are stable, Peter leads you to a spot where he's set up a blanket and food for a midnight date. You smile at him, "This is so sweet, Peter, thank you."

He looks down shyly, still in the mask. He pulls it off so he can see you face to face, "It's no big deal, I just know today was kinda rough for you and I wanted to do something so it wasn't all bad." You wince at the reminder of how poorly that test went today. Who in their right mind assigns a test on a Friday anyway? You know you got a passing grade, just not the one you were hoping for. You push the test out of your mind, choosing instead to get excited for what is about to come.

Peter gestures to the blanket, bidding you to sit, and you comply. He pulls another blanket out from the shadows and sits down next to you, wrapping it around the two of you. From a plastic bag off to the side, he pulls out food for the both of you, a couple of sandwiches and sodas from his favorite place. He also pulls out a piece of cake, too, which is carefully kept inside a plastic container.

You notice the slice right away. "Cake? What's the occasion?"

"Does there need to be one?" Peter fires back at you.

You shrug, feeling your arms brush together with his as you do, "No, I guess not."

"I mean, cake is cake, and, personally, I think it's a great pick-me-up, y'know?"

You laugh, "It's fine, Peter, I'm not gonna get upset over cake. I'm sure it'll be delicious, since you picked it out."

As you both chow down on sandwiches, you finally get a chance to look at the city around you. The lights are stunning and the view is to-die-for as usual. With a quick glance at the street below, you realize you're on top of your favorite bookstore. Just knowing that that's where you are makes you smile.

As you eat there's a comfortable silence, the two of you just enjoying each other's company. When you reach the cake, Peter lets you take the first bite, only for you to swing the fork in his direction and demand he open. He takes the bite with a chuckle, then doing the same for you afterwards.

It’s indeed delicious, incredibly fresh and soft. It must have been just baked today. There's a hint of fruit among the frosting, sweet and tangy. You wonder what fruit it is exactly, but it's too faint to tell. You pause and the thought of what you're doing makes you laugh.

"What's so funny?" Peter asks, bite still in his mouth and making his cheeks puff up adorably.

"It's just… How did we get here? Not even a couple months ago I had no idea that you were Spider Man and now I'm on a rooftop sharing a piece of cake with my lovely boyfriend, who's a crime fighting hero but also cares about me enough to set this up amid all that. This is so far from the normal I was used to."

"A good difference from normal?" Peter asks, tilting his head in interest.

You press a kiss to his lips, tasting the frosting that was still there, "Yes, a very good difference."

You both quickly finish up the cake, Peter putting all the garbage into the plastic bag that was previously holding it. He leaves the comfort of the blankets to walk over to the edge of the building, holding the bag out and dropping it into the dumpster below with ease.

He comes back over to you, where you make grabby hands at him, wanting his warmth back under the blankets. He laughs, instead grabbing your hands and pulling you up, causing you to gasp. "Wha-?"

"Y/N, may I have this dance?" He asks and you hear that soft music is coming from the spider emblem in his chest, a beautiful slow song. You first wonder how he so sneakily turned the music on. Then you flush hot, suddenly realizing you've never slow danced like this with someone before.

"But, I don't know how?"

Peter pulls you close, "Honestly, I don't either, but it'll still be fun, right?"

"Yeah… yeah!" You say, getting more into it, adjusting your hand positions and resting your head on his shoulder. The dancing is less… dancing, and more swaying and turning in slow, looping circles. But he was right, it's still fun. Incredibly calming too.

After a couple songs, you begin to yawn and Peter rubs your back. "You getting tired? I can take you back home. It's like 1AM now."

You nod against his shoulder and he steps away, rolling his blankets up and tucking them into a corner where he'll come back to get them after dropping you off. You hold your arms out, ready to get back into the usual position, and you do as soon as he steps close enough.

The ride home feels like it goes by even faster than before, but you feel it's probably just because you're so tired. Your grip stays tight even as you nod off a couple times, the motions lulling you to sleep. You wake up as Peter touches down on the balcony outside your window again, squeezing him from the jolt of surprise.

He squeezes back, "Sorry for waking you, but you're home now." 

You nod sleepily and fumble with the key for a bit before Peter takes it gently from your hands, opening it for you. You mumble a thanks after grabbing the key back and slip inside, ready to change back into pajamas. You start piling the clothes you were wearing before, about to go back to the bathroom to change.

Your eyes snap open though and you dart back to the window, which is still open with a waiting Peter there. "Goodnight kisses!" you whisper-shout, pressing your lips against his and he smiles against them before kissing back.

"Goodnight, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you, too. Thank you for this," you say, smiling as you close the window. He draws a heart in the dew on the window before pulling his mask on and flinging off into the night. You grab the previously assembled pile of pajamas and change after pulling the shades together.

That date was just what you needed to feel calm enough to sleep, so you pass out as your head hits the pillow, the taste of frosting still on your tongue and warm love in your heart.

[adamasjace-blog]

bad dreams

anonymous requested: can you just write some malec!fluff I need some in my life. PS your blog theme is awesome!

hope you love it, and thank you!!

Word Count: 1000+

Rating: PG-13

“Magnus?” Alec called out softly as he tossed his jacket onto its usual spot – the adorned vintage throne chair that his boyfriend had ‘borrowed’ from a museum in Rome. He caught the apartment door before it could slam, suddenly becoming aware of the time. It was nearly midnight, and Magnus was most likely asleep. Sitting his bow and quiver down by the door, he couldn’t help but smile. There was just something about being there, at Magnus’ place, that felt more like home to him than the institute ever had.

He drew a quick Soundless rune on his arm before moving around as usual, making himself a glass of water and winding down after his long day at the institute. After kicking his shoes off somewhere near the kitchen, he noticed the cats outside on the balcony, looking longingly at him through the glass.

“Someone forgot to feed you guys, didn’t they?” He smirked, heading over the grab the cat food from the cupboard – he’d asked his boyfriend to leave a spare bag in case he forgot to conjure up their food.

He made his way to each dish one by one, his eyebrows furrowing when he noticed one was left untouched. He also hadn’t been greeted at the door. Knowingly, Alec headed back to Magnus’ bedroom, unsurprised to see Chairman Meow curled up against his boyfriend’s torso, purring away as they both slept.

“That’s my spot,” Alec whispered to the feline, coming over and lifting his sleeping form gently, moving him to the couch so that he could get to his food when he felt like it.

With all the nightly chores finished, he slid off his thigh holster and hung it on the back of the door, for once leaving the seraph blade within it. Nothing got past Magnus’ wards, and he slept all the better because of it. Next off was his weapons belt, followed by his jeans and shirt.

No matter how gently he got into bed, it always woke Magnus. He’d even tried a Gracefulness rune once, to no avail. Tonight was no exception, but he secretly loved when his boyfriend rolled over to greet him.

“Was wondering when you’d get here,” Magnus murmured, waiting for Alec to lay all the way down before cuddling up to his bare chest. “You’re freezing.”

“No, you’re just warm,” Alec smiled, nuzzling up to him, warming his nose in his hair and leaving kisses on his head.

“How was … did you have a good …” Magnus began to ramble, as he often did when he was falling asleep.

“Sleep, Mag. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Love you Alec,” he smiled, letting his eyes shut again. No matter how tired he was, that was something he said each night. Alec reached over to brush off a few spare specks of glitter from his cheek.

“Love you too,” he said before letting himself drift off to sleep as well.

“No no, please leave him alone, NO!”

Alec woke suddenly, his hand automatically going to his shoulder, reaching for his quiver. His eyes scanned the room for danger, his body instinctively moving to shield Magnus from whatever it was. Only then did he realize that the screaming was coming from beside him.

“Magnus, Magnus! Hey, hey wake up! Magnus!” He called, gently shaking his boyfriend.

Magnus’ eyes flew open, his pupils in feline slits, his irises glowing gold. His hand was glowing blue, but it faded quickly as he realized who was in front of him.

“Alec?” He said, his voice a bit hoarse.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay,” Alec said, squeezing his shoulder and feeling him relax. Magnus fell back against the pillows after a moment, wiping a hand over his eyes. His whole body was clammy with sweat, and the silk sheets below him were wet with it.

“I’m sorry. It was just a bad dream, I’m fine now, we can go back to bed” Magnus murmured, brushing it off as he always did.

“What happened? Was it your mom again?” Alec moved some of Magnus’ dark, sweaty hair out of his eyes gently.

“No actually, not this time. It was you, and you were fighting someone – something – and it was burned and smelt of hell. And Max was there too, but he was hurt and I couldn’t help either of you, my hands were tied behind me, and you couldn’t hear me either. And then it…” he trailed off, seemingly unable to say more.

“Hey. I’m here with you now, and I’m safe. It’s okay,” Alec reassured him with a hand on his cheek before pulling him close for a hug. Magnus pressed his face into Alec’s shoulder, something he did when he was upset.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?” Alec offered, taking Magnus’ hand.

“I can just-“ Magnus wiggled his fingers, sending blue sparks out.

“Use it for the bed sheets, but the rest of it I’m taking care of,” Alec smiled, pulling Magnus out of bed. He let go of his hand for a moment so he could conjure some fresh purple silk bedding, then grasped his hand again as soon as he was done, leading him to the bathroom.

“Alec, this really isn’t necessary, you’ve got work in the morning, plus I’m pretty exhausted. I’m not sure I’m up for that right now,” Magnus protested, but he made no effort to return to the bedroom. Alec leaned into the shower to turn the water on before turning back to Magnus.

“It’s not about that. Just let me take care of you, for once. Please.”

Magnus looked at him deeply, his wisdom and all his years shining through his gaze, before he smiled and nodded. They both stripped out of the little clothes they had on before stepping into the warm water.

It seemed to melt away the tension in Magnus, and he relaxed under Alec’s touch, something the younger boy had noticed he had been getting better at lately. Alec washed Magnus’ hair and body, taking his time and leaving the whole bathroom smelling like sandalwood. Then it was his turn, and Magnus waited patiently while Alec showered himself, tracing the runes on his back while the water rushed down his skin.

When they stepped out, the mirror was foggy, but Magnus cleared it was a snap of his fingers before fishing two towels out of the cupboard. They dried themselves off, though Alec took the liberty of drying Magnus’ hair. He stood behind him, rubbing the towel vigorously and grinning when he pulled it away, revealing the spiky mess underneath.

“You look like a puffed-up cat,” Alec teased, ruffling Magnus’ hair.

“Speaking of cats, I forgot to feed ours.”

“I did it when I got home, no worries.”

Magnus looked up at him in the mirror before turning around with a smile.

“I love you, my Alexander.”

“I love you too,” Alec smiled, leaning down to kiss him. His lips were soft and warm, and he deepened the kiss, Magnus’ hand coming to his hip to pull him closer.

“My turn,” Magnus whispered, pulling away suddenly. Alec missed his movement in his momentary daze, and suddenly everything was black. Magnus rubbed the towel over Alec’s hair, leaving it just a spiky and messed up as his own.

“Now we’re even,” Magnus smiled, snapping his fingers again, making two pairs of boxers appear from the drawers in their room. They both slid them on and returned to bed hand in hand, hearts full.

feedback would be lovely!!!! 

[gaaragirl22]

Chapter two

Hey! You guys ready to see how Harrys dealing with his Dear Captain attentions being taking or how about what Gils been up to!?! Before I forget the beginning half before the two months marker is a progule telling Iridessa mother story. All mistakes are mine~~also I’ve never read the books so these are pure head cannon. ENJOY!!

Ashnah fought to stand as she watched Merryweather, Flora and Fauna flint into the room. Their wings bringing a low glow into the room allowing her to fully see the dark robes the others were wearing. The sound of heavy rain following in their wake as though the heavens knew what they planned.

“Ashnah…Dear, we know it’s hard to fully understand but some…” Flora trails off looking to Fairy Godmother. Her hands wringing around her wand.

“Are just born Evil. It’s something we need to accept…”

“If I held that same belief,” She whispers looking to Adam and Belle. Her vision wavering as she walks towards them. “ You would have never met!” At her tone her daughter beginnings to whimper. As she tries to soothe her cries she can feels her slipping from her arms she frantically tries to hold her closer…she may be tried but even in her most exhausted state she hadn’t wavered. “Change can happen it takes time and patience-”

“And a willingness to change.” Belle interjects. Taking her husband’s hand she walks forward stopping a few feet before her. “It’s not only us who fear these Villains and their children there are other kingdoms that need our protection and guidance….please Ashnah.”

Her world began to sway as the thunder rumbled from outside the room her daughter cries rising in volume. Dropping to her knees struggling to hold on to her cane, she sees what was bringing about this weakness.

An absorbing stone! They weren’t here to attempt to change her mind…. they were here to capture her. As her daughter opens her mouth to cry aloud. She can feel her own tears fall her heart twisting as she struggles against the encroaching darkness. I’m so sorry, My love…

Two months later If one were to ask anyone on the isle about Captain Hooks only son, Harry Hook, you’re bound to hear a variety of things… “He’s insane! I once saw him challenge a poster to a staring contest…and WON!”

OR

“He’s a flirt! Personal space isn’t a thing he fully understands…I kinda like it.”

OR even.

“He’s Uma lapdog! Comes scurrying anytime that little shrimp-UGH.”

But only one opinion matters to Dear Harry, his Captains…

“He’s my first mate…Are you gonna order or what!?!?”

So we find Harry sitting in Ursula’s fish shop watching his Dear Captain speak in hushed tones to the new girl…he watched as she allowed her to stand close and touch her, even allowing her to cook in the kitchen!

She rarely lets him go back there!

Jumping up with a growl he kicks his seat over. She’s only been here for two months! She hasn’t earned the right to touch Uma she’s barely earned the right to look at her.

Stalking towards Uma who was scanning one of Gils designs for the ship he doesn’t notice how fast the other crew members were scurrying out of his way. His eyes glued to his Captain… the firelight causing her skin to glitter, her hair seeming to shift between midnight blue and seafoam silver. As she looks up with a raised brow causing him to nearly stumble as she stared directly into his eye’s.

No One looks him in the eyes save for his sister and on the off chance he can warrant his attention…his father. When he finally grew curious enough to care as to why they’ve said because when they look too deeply they can feel themselves falling to madness and while that description made him giggle and was great fun for some time he grew bored of people avoiding his eyes…it didn’t stop him from tormenting but it wasn’t as fun…till he met Uma.

The one who doesn’t-no, won’t look away instead she’ll laughs or scoff. The one who knows the method to his madness, who knows how to rail him back from that edge…or fall over it with him. As he slides to her sides making a point to lean close.The new girl comes out of the kitchen carrying a large dish that smells strongly of spice. Gil rushes over with a wide grin trying to grab the dish. He watches as she sits it beside Uma shooing Gil’s hands away. Offering Uma the first bite…not just offering holding it out as though it was an Auradon delicacy.

Grabbing Uma’s arm he glares murderously at the new girl. He doesn’t care how useful Uma thinks this girl is! She was taking privileges with Uma that raised his hackles. Glaring he fails to notice that Uma’s mood has now moved past amused to…very…agitated. “Harry!” She shouts yanking her arm back. Looking first at the silent crowd that was eagerly watching the trio. She looks up into his eyes.“Let’s talk…”

As she leads him into the kitchen he can’t help but send the new girl a grin and a wave. Standing in the cramp kitchen Harry can’t help but stare as Uma pushes out the workers. Like a raging monsoon or perhaps a better description would be a tsunami she sweeps them out all waving arms and cutting glances, before turning to him. A chill goes down his spine as her eyes settle on his.

This was gonna be fun.

She leans against the countertop flicking her hair back with a huff. “What’s got you so deep in your feelings?” She asks staring him down.

He could answer honestly and say that he wants to hook the new girl within an inch of her life…but he’s still not sure how close they were. The safer bet would be to blame Mal or any of the other traitorous VKs.

“I saw that it was close to cotillion time again and couldn’t help but imagine you in one of Gil’s frocks.” He answers stalking closer he reaches out to touch her hair.pausing as she grabs his wrist her touch causing another chill to take him. Her touch almost felt like a burn as his attention went fully to it. He looked down into her face she was looking at him as though she could read his soul and…found the pieces he was hiding.

“Right…Iridessa-” She began letting go of his wrist . Pausing as he decides to come lean beside as though he couldn’t be away from her side for long. “is helping me figure out how we’re getting off the island. So I need you to be on your best behavior.”

“Why haven’t you brought me in on the deal?” He leans closer catching a whiff of her hair. The scent of sea salt and vanilla making his mouth water for a taste. Raking his hand through his hair he refocuses on her voice.

“When I’m sure that this plan can’t fail…trust me, I’ll let you know.”

“Wait-”

“Uh, who’s the captain,again?”She asks folding arms straightening her back to come to her full height….a few inches below his shoulder.

“You are.” He concedes with a smirk. A shiver going down his spine as she puts her hands on her hips.

“You are?”

“First mate.” He moves to stand before almost Kneeling to get in her line of site his breath leaving his lungs as her eyes settle on his with a smirk that can only be described as sweet.

“That’s right. Don’t worry I won’t leave you in the dark too long…just long enough to make sure this is legit.” She runs her fingers through his hair rising a sigh from him. “Let’s get back out there. Remember best behavior.”

As she walks away he takes a moment to catch his thoughts before they wander too far into x rated territory. Walking back into the dining hall he see’s Uma sitting next to the new girl….Iridessa. Quietly he moves to slide up to Uma’s side making sure that she sees him. Grabbing a bite off her plate he sees that Uma has a list written in what looked like a foreign script. It would help if he knew how to read…glancing over Uma’s head to see her smirking with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she touched Uma’s arm.

Uma had asked him to be on his best behavior….but she didn’t say anything about Gils.

// // //

Standing outside of the Villains villia for a good four hours wasn’t what Gil had in mind for his first off day in a long while. But Uma said if he watches for at least a day she’d let him rework the ship’s layout. Working on that would prove to be the most fun and stressful thing he’s ever done. Telling his father that he preferred sewing and creating things instead of fighting or destroying property almost paled in comparison…until he remembered how hard it was to explain that he wasn’t quitting Uma’s crew he just wasn’t focusing on the family business.

Anyway back to his duties Uma said that the Villains might say something that could be useful to them….how? Magic was useless unless you get out of the barrier and even then you’d need a magic item as powerful as Fairy Gods mother wand to bring down the barrier. Mal’s mom had a pretty powerful staff but she’s a lizard, now.

Groaning he reaches into his shirt pulling out the sack of snacks Iridessa gave him since he missed all the clam crisps. As he munched on the dried and spiced roots he sees Evil queen walking out with a bunch in hand along with her every present mirror. Cruelle followed behind yelling instructions to some poor fool who wished to fill the spot their children left.

Quietly….well as quiet as he can be follows the two listening as their conversation varies between old lady talk, ‘Remember when I had control over the entire north west border…Oh those were the times.’ and their desire to act like they weren’t using the five fingers discount. After what feels like hours Gil decides he’s had enough. He’ll just find some other way to rework the ship’s design. As he moves to leave Evil queen asks a question of Cruelle the stops him cold.

“What do you think happened to my magic mirror?” She inquires staring into a particularly shiniest pot.

“The same thing that happened to Maleficent’s spell book…that museum!”

“Oh I don’t know maybe my evie stills uses it…keeps a little bit of me with her…you know?”

“You just want the mirror back!!” Cruelle cackles.

“Yes! Can you blame me? Fits right in the palm of your hand. You can do a complete outfit check and find the nearest prince.”

They rest of their conversation dissolves into bickering but Gil was already gone. His excitement at hearing some kind of useful information makes him tear down the street and straight into Harry.

“What’s put a flame under your feet, Gilly?” He asks grinning widely as he grips the back of his shirt as he tries to walk away.

“Oh, it’s nothing…really! I just got to get to Uma… really fast.”

“Oh, well.” Harry sighed releasing his collar. “That I can understand….about what exactly.”

Taking a step back Gil eye’s the first mate with his usual exasperated expression. He wasn’t going like this…like at all.

“I would tell you, really, I would but Iridessa said that this is like a super secret mission so…” His stomach dropped as Harry’s face slowly took a frightening journey. His eyes squinting, his smile dropped a hard cough exiting his lungs before he folds in half with a crazed fit of laughter. Leaving Gil to wonder if he can make a break for it…

As he moves to slide past a hand lands on his shoulder the grip tight making him grimace. Slowly he turns back to the face that haunts his nightmares…his only seen it once when he and Uma had falling asleep together on the ship…it was cold and there was only one blanket! It wasn’t his fault!

“Gil,what am I?” Harry asks leaning forward staring intensely into his eyes. His mind began to race. What could he say that wouldn’t get him punched or pushed on his butt. He could say son of Hook but that’s a who not what…maybe a close friend but he might not agree with that. Oh, what about first mate to Uma, he might like that. “Gil!”

No time to pick! “You are Harry Hook, son of Captain Hook, close friend and first mate to Uma!?”

After a beat Harry raises a brow, tilting his head. “Right, First mate.” Letting go his shoulder. “As first mate I’m the one Uma comes to for advice and to bounce ideas off of. Which means?”

Not another question he didn’t have the brainpower for this! if he keeps this up he’ll forget what he supposed to tell Uma!

“I’ll find out about this mission she sent you on and…” Harry continues pausing to dust off his shoulder. “I’m sure she won’t be all too happy to hear that one of her crew was trying to go against her.”

His mind begins to race again would he be going against if he kept her order. But Iridessa was the one who told him to keep it a secret…but Uma agreed! Does that count?

“I’ll let you be on your way then…” Harry began offering a deep bow before his back.

“Wait!” Gil shouts his hand outstretched dropping it as Harry turned back with a wide grin. “You’re gonna find out anyway, right?” At Harry’s nod he continues. “Maleficent gave Mal a spell book and there’s a chance it’s in a museum or she has it.” He breathed watching as Harry’s face fell.

“That’s it!” He shouts Throwing his hands on the air before vigorously motion at him. “That was your mission!”

“Hey, I worked hard to get that. You stand outside for hours with only veggie snacks to eat! It’s not as much fun as you would think.” Gil says folding his arms in offense. Dragging his hand down his face he looks up at the sky. With a heavy sigh he reaches into his coat pulling out a small tightly wrapped gray box.

Holding it out he says, “Take this to the new girl.” As Gil takes the box he pulls him close staring into his eyes. “Don’t.Open.It.”

“Where are you going?” Taking the box he’s surprised by its wait. And by the fact that Harry never gets anyone but Uma a gift.

“To Do my duties as first mate.” He tosses over his shoulder as he picks up a rock tossing it in the air.

Shrugging Gil heads to the shop. He had the information and a gift to deliver. What she need the information for wasn’t that important to him. Uma rarely did anything to endanger them. She didn’t force them to join like other crews she just…knew what they wanted and gave it to them. She knew that he had no wish to join the family business so she gave him a way out. Whatever she was gonna do with this info probably won’t be used to hurt them…at least not if Uma wanted it.