#which means i will probably leave the house out of sheer boredom

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Short! Reader - Part 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N was in the kitchen, preparing to make a chocolate shake because, uh, chocky shakes are quite scrumptious if I do say so myself, and I do say so. She grabbed the stool next to the small island in the kitchen and used it to get on top of the counter. She clicked her tongue, keeping her mind on her surroundings in case her roommate, Michael, were to teleport through sheer force of will and pull her down. But she didn't hear him coming.

Y/N grabbed the blender and looked around the room to make sure her stool wasn't moved when she wasn't looking. When Michael would do that, she'd fall down since it's like walking down the stairs but missing a step, making you fall down and lose your will to breath. Of course, Y/N should be smart enough to just look down or get down slowly to see if the stool is there, but that solution would be too simple and intelligent for the likes of this story.

Y/N got off the counter and kicked the stool off the side, looking around more. "Huh,"she clicked her tongue, shrugging off her paranoia. She plugged in the blender and grabbed the ice cream tub she got earlier, scooping some out and putting it in the cup of the blender. She hummed to herself as she poured in milk and whatever toppings she wanted, like oreos or something.

It was about 8am, meaning it was almost time for her to go to work. Usually Michael would be watching tv, doing something out back, or whatever else he does, but she strangely couldn't find him. It was weird for him to just be missing. But to be fair, he's an adult who can leave whenever we he wants.

I sighed, as I turned on the blender, my eyes turning dull from boredom. It felt like a weight was put on her shoulders from the disappointment, but at least getting to work on time would be easier. Michael wasn't used to a modern day home so I would usually have to go on a rundown of things to and not to do before I left. A smile lifted my face as I think back, simultaneously pouring the shake into a cup and putting it in my fridge for now.

I take a large breath again before heading to my room, pushing the door open with a silent squeak coming from it. It smelled like slight dust which kinda makes since because who the hell has time to clean anything, am I right? No one, because this story takes place in America and anyone who's lives in a different country before being here can tell you that a lot for us are depressed because America is designed to be repeatative. Like, can we please do anything other than wake up, work, go watch TV at home, then sleep? Can we have a week long festival instead of getting drunk and shooting fireworks one day in July?

I shake the thoughts that suddenly appeared in my head off, sighing as I walked to my closet. "I need to take schizophrenia pills, I swear," I mumble as I pull open the sliding door— "Yo, what the hell!-"

There the skyscraper was, right in the middle of the same closet where I keep my hoodies. He stared at me for a good four seconds, a dull expression but anyone can tell from the look in his eye that he was shookyth. Probably because he didn't his mask on but who knows.

It was a great battle honestly; as soon as I realized he was maskless, I pulled my phone out quickly for a picture, but he ran at me and took the phone away. Obviously, I wasn't gonna let that slide so I did what anyone would in the situation; kick them in the shjn because that's what everyone was thinking,  right? He reactively brought his hands down fast a protection reflex, giving me enough time to grab his hand.

His grip was stronger than the strength of flex tape however, so I couldn't pull it off him before I was shoved back. I landed on my back, but tried to get back up. But hah, that would mean adding more to the "battle" so of Michael held me down after throwing the phone on the bed. "Michael, get off!" I yelled as his hands squeezed my wrists. It was embarrassing to be straddled when I had so much pride, but this isn't in a situation where I can enjoy it and act like a flustered schoolgirl!

I tried to kick my legs, but that didn't work either. I was never gonna get out of his grip but still, struggling to get out was er than admitting defeat so it's worth it. "Come on! You're heavy enough to kill me, so get up and fight like a man!" Michael had held his head down so getting a good view from my perspective wasn't easy. Basically, his head was above my chest (it's the easiest easy to describe my visionnnn) so him looking down only gives the view of his hair and forehead.

"Michael! Where you looking for that hoodie from a week ago? What were you even doing!" I shouted, cause you gotta make sure you keep that pride. I gave a couple seconds of waiting before sighing loudly, limping. Because screw that line in the same paragraph about pride, am I right? Then, he mumbled. It wasn't a word I don't think, considering it sounded more like a groan as conformation. I shivered a bit, still not used to the sound of his voice.

"Is...that a yeah?" He then nodded, but kept his head low. "Um, alright... Well, let me up and I'll get it for you, okay?" Michael then let go, standing up and helping me up in the process. "Thank you," I stated as I walked over to the closet, pulling out two hoodies. One for me, and that blue one for him. When I turned to hand his to him, he sadly put his mask on already, making me sigh again. I handed the hoodie and smiled at him.

"There you go! Let me know if you need anything else before I go, kay?" I spoke as I put on my hoodie then fixing my slightly messed up hair. He put on his hoodie, not responding in any way so I assumed nothing else was needed. I pat his arm and said bye as I walked out of the bedroom. I grabbed the oreo shake and walked out of the house, locking the door.

I shivered in bed, trying to sleep. It doesn't snow much here therefore what's basically a blizzard to happen is definitely surprising. It's worse that I have an old house; the temperature of the house really depends on the outside. There's few vents, so freezing air easily makes it into the house. And get this; the heater conveniently broke! Hah! Who's gonna come fix with weather? It's so funny it makes me want to curl up and cry, haha.

I guess it seems like I'm overreacting, but the house's temperature really is freezing because of the snow. Plus it's night out, so it's even colder. "It felt like summer yesterday though," I mumbled to myself, holding the covers tightly around me. I pressed me face closer to the pillow, closing my eyes tigher with stress. We all know a cold pillow is great but a cold cover is miserable. Michael had it worse however.

He slept on the couch with a few covers rather than a thick mattress and comforter. He got up a few times to microwave food so at least it'll make him a little warmer, but it didn't help much of course. Michael's been shot, ran over, beaten, and so many other things so the cold is nothing to him. But given the conditions he lives in, it wouldn't be wrong to use what he can to be more comfortable. Such as sleeping in a bed for once.

Just the thought of a bed sounded nice to him. The couch was small for someone tall enough to slap the top of the ceiling in schools that probably had some encouraging message on it. Michael pulled the covers off him, sitting up and stretching. His mask was off at the moment but it was too dark for anyone to notice luckily for him. He made his way towards the bedroom, opening the door silently and closing it.

Y/N frowned, nearly falling asleep at this point. Michael made his way over, softly leaning on the bed before laying on it. He wrapped his arm around Y/N for a little of warmth, since snuggles is nice I think. I wouldn't know, I've never dated. He nuzzle into the crook of her neck, closing his eyes. It was silent aside from the strangely obnoxious sound of wind from outside. I wouldn't know if that happens irl, it finally snowed for the first time where I lived and it was so little that the snow didn't pile up.

It was peaceful and Michael almost fell asleep until he heard a small snore from Y/N. Not the loli snore kind, no, I'm not a big fan of "adorable sneezes, yawns, or snores." This is the kind that you never want a significant oth set to wake you up to tell you about. Okay, maybe that not extreme but it was loud enough to be heard.

Michael felt a small smile go on his lips, intertwining his fingers with Y/N's hair. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep now. But his sleep was cut short when a loud squeak shook the house. He shook awake, sitting up immediately and looked around. All there was was a smol reader with a large smile on her face. The lamp besides the bed was turned on, showing a soft reddish feel to the room that made her blush excusable.

His look of concern fell to annoyance when he realized where the yell came from. He sighed, going deep into the covers with his back facing her. Y/N scoffed, "hey! Don't judge me! This is a three in a lifetime experience!" She huffed and pulled her phone out from under her pillow. She already got a picture of his face and hiding the picture would be easy. Uh, maybe. Y/N smirked as she plugged her phone it and turned off the lamp. She sjufgled into the covers, wrapping her smol arm around him this time.

"Goodnight~"

[ptersparkers]

the tap of your fingertips

summary: all of jj’s internal thoughts. 

warnings: none, i think and typos, probably. 

notes: i tried to write differently and use inly a stream of consciousness. i hope you like it!

You think he doesn’t look. He does.

He feels every tap of your fingertips, hum of your voice, and breath when you enter the Chateau every morning with a blue water bottle. He thinks you’re beautiful without even trying. Five years of friendship never prepared him for seeing you in another light and it’s no secret that his feelings for you have switched. It’s not a secret to everyone but you.

JJ tries to keep his cool. He really does. It’s subtle movements that he cherishes in his mind when he falls asleep on John B’s couch every night. He replays the time he held your hand to help you into the boat that morning. Your hands were soft, unlike his callous ones. He could grow to like holding your hand.

He sleeps in comfort when you’re his last thought. JJ was never one to believe in lucid dreaming, but when the time is right, he could dream up a fantasy where he wasn’t afraid to proclaim his love for you. It was a distant wish that he wanted to come true. He wished for it when his eyes opened to the moment his eyes closed.

But delicate glances weren’t satisfying him anymore. He wanted to grab your exposed hip and hold you flush against him. Every time you placed the shiny lip gloss that smelled like sweet apples, JJ felt like the universe was torturing him with a sweet slow burn. You always smelled like sweet apples.

You decided to cut your hair short out of sheer boredom and you looked more mature, more refined. You were not what a Pogue looked like with that haircut. JJ liked that. He knew his opinion on your appearance didn’t matter but he wanted to say it anyway. So he did. You smiled and reached for an apple that Kiara had brought that morning. You and those damn apples.

There is a shift in the mood whenever JJ isn’t distracted by the other Pogues. He can feel his heart begin to beat faster when the mood has calmed down. It was almost always sparked by the sun beginning to set. He knew the night sky and the darkness of the calamity would force him to be alone with his own thoughts, unable to escape the impending doom of what he should do about his feelings. But he always put it off until the second he was about to sleep. That‘s his trick if he wanted to dream about you.

He often dreams about a big city where nobody cared about him. He dreams of a small apartment with you laying in your shared bed, the smell of fresh parsley cooking in the pan as he prepared two omelets with cheese and other ingredients laying around in your pantry. He dreams of a fresh pot of black coffee and a ceramic mug you had brought home the week you moved into the space. Your shared space. JJ dreams of waking you up with a tender kiss, feeling your warm breath on his chin as his lips touch the soft skin of your forehead. JJ will never admit it, but he craves the domesticity of relationships in which he was able to feel completely and utterly calm.

JJ likes it best when you wear his shirts after a swimming session. You were almost always too stubborn to wear your own and preferred the bigger size that he sported, not that he would ever complain. It was a cliche, that much he knew. But he never failed to smile when you stole the semi-dirty shirt from the boat when you emerged from the water, letting yourself air dry before slipping on the soft fabric. He was almost positive his entire wardrobe smelled like you.

Just when he thinks he has no real aspirations and dreams to fight for, you are the first to ease his mind about the future. The Outer Banks is a small island compared to the rest of the world. Getting out doesn’t just mean leaving the island physically. It means being mentally prepared to handle whatever life decides to throw at you once you step off of the land you grew to know so well. JJ’s always trying to think positively. He’s always trying to think of what you would say when he felt like the biggest failure on the island.

He didn’t know when he let you consume his mind but he wasn’t going to complain about it. The hot summer morning and cool summer nights were enough to spark imagination from him, one that would make it on his bucket list of things he wanted to accomplish before he left this godforsaken island. One of them was tell you he likes you. But he had time for that. He always tries to reason with himself.

JJ masks his anger and frustration with humor and comedy as a coping mechanism that helps him deal with the trauma he endures. His love for his friends outshines his own aspirations and he’s afraid that one day, he’ll find himself all alone after giving his all to the people he loved to much. He’s afraid of finding himself alone on the island while the Pogues have a grand time on different corners of the same planet. JJ thinks about his capacity for emotion and wonders when his next break down will be. He just hopes you’re not there to witness it.

It’s funny. He always thought about the classist society that exists between the Kooks and the Pogues. JJ is aware that this problem exists way beyond the small North Carolinian island, but he pretends it’s only his problem because it’s easier than dealing with the fact that leaving the island might be the worst decision he could make. If the world outside was like this then he won’t be able to protect himself. Here, at least, he knew how to fight stupid Kooks.

He’s scared that you’re not going to be there with him when he’s ready to leave. He says he is ready, and he’s hot headed with the tendency to act before thinking, but this is the only thing he wants to think through. Leaving the island with no money and nowhere to go means being stuck in square one. It means living as a Pogue in the world beyond the Outer Banks. It would be the same experience on a different playing field. But you always remind him that the opportunities beyond the gates of a small town are greater than his fears.

JJ’s starting to think he began to like you because you gave him hope. Not the kind of hope that resembles an empty promise, but the kind of hope that lifts his spirits and motivates him to get up every morning and seize the day. You are the sun in his dimly lit world and he’s afraid he will lose your sunshine.

The cheesiness of romantic comedies and John B. teasing him all day for being “soft” (whatever that means) is a combination of how JJ feels inside. He no longer feels to strengthen the hard exterior he spent years building when he was with you. JJ let his armor fall. It was always you and him in an isolated room with twin fire signs. He couldn’t hear loud ocean waves or thundering lightening. It was always calm with you.

With you, his slate was clean. He could build himself up without knocking himself down. The building blocks he needed were in your hands and all he had to do was grab them from you. JJ knew you were willing to give that to him. You were willing to share a piece of your soul so that his could be fixed. But he would never want you to break a piece of yourself in order for him to make himself whole.

JJ was pining after you like a little boy on the playground. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, touch you. He wanted you to pull him aside and admit these same feelings but never voiced this out loud. His armor had fallen around you but his walls were sturdy and high in front of everyone else.

He wasn’t sure if you knew. JJ was hyper aware of the times you’d choose to sit next to him or accompany him to fix the keg before parties. He was always aware of your head resting on his shoulder and when you would play with his rings absentmindedly. His hands always felt like they were on fire. But he welcomed that warmth.

And so he stood by the sidelines most afternoons and watched as you and John B. grew closer and closer. There were no romantics feelings involved, just the sheer fact that you two had known each other longer than he had known you. But that didn’t stop the blond boy from overthinking. Before he discovered his romantic feelings for you, every move felt like a provoking gesture. He never paid any mind to John B. pressing a quick kiss to your temple when you left the house. But now he did. Now it was personal. It was irrational. John B. was dating Sarah and you were like a sister to him. He knew that. It still felt weird.

But one evening changed everything. It was just the first of you in the Chateau and you were beyond tired. JJ could see the tiredness in your eyes due to the high-packed day the group had. He asked you to change into comfortable PJ’s before you slept in sweaty clothes and you obliged without a word.

He was used to seeing you without any makeup on and not as put together as when you were. But there was something about you that night.

JJ stepped forward.

You stepped closer.

He put his hands on your hips.

You looked up at him. He could smell the apple scented shampoo from your hair. The one you kept in John B’s bathroom.

There were no fireworks, nor music nor cheerful friends in the window.

There was just you two.

He slowly dipped his head and touched your lips with his, but just barely.

One. Two. Three.

That was the number of seconds it took for you to kiss him back.

You pressed your chest against his.

He dug his fingertips into your hipbone.

You felt his soft lips. He felt yours.

It was slow. Subtle. Sweet.

All JJ could think about was you and your apple flavored lip gloss, and how he wanted to taste it. But by the looks of it, he’d be tasting your apple flavored lip gloss more often.

***

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[ibijau]

“Stop borrowing flowers out of my garden to woo people who don’t even treat you right.” said by Jiang Cheng! Hm, could you make this mingcheng???

This one got away from me so it’s a tiny bit longer than the usual, oops?

The problem was that strictly speaking, it wasn’t a garden. It was just a patch of dirt on the side of a long abandoned construction project that had never been completed due to lack of funds, or embezzlement, or some other bullshit that Jiang Cheng had never cared enough about to try and find out.

It wasn’t a garden.

But Jiang Cheng had been planting flowers there, out of sheer boredom, because he lived right next door and missed the greeneries of his parents’ house. Their garden had always been gorgeous, perfectly maintained by his mother, an absolute work of art. It was the only place she seemed happy. It was the only thing Jiang Cheng missed about his old life. Those quiet moments when his mother, in a fit of good mood, took him around her garden, her one true love, and explained to him about the plants and how to best care for them. People in their circle would sometimes joke that Zu Ziyuan loved her garden more than her family.

Jiang Cheng had never found it funny. Perhaps because he knew what it was like to envy mulberry leaves for the tenderness with which Yu Ziyuan would remove caterpillars from them, when she could hardly be near her son without pushing him around.

For a while, Jiang Cheng had hated gardens. That wasn’t the whole reason why he’d moved to the city, but it had probably impacted his choice anyway. He’d wanted to get as far away from his parents’ life as he could.

But in the end, something must have run in his blood. After months of walking by that abandoned patch of dirt, Jiang Cheng had given in one day. He’d bought some bulbs and seeds, a beginner’s guide to gardening, and set out to work.

It had surprised him when flowers actually started growing. Jiang Cheng was used to failure, and his mother used to tell him he had no skill for gardening. No skill for anything really, but gardening in particular seemed to piss her off. 

But there were some wallflowers and geraniums to prove she’d been wrong about this.

About other things too, perhaps. For the time being, Jiang Cheng just clung to the gardening thing.

The entire first week after the flowers started growing, Jiang Cheng expected that whoever owned the plot of land would come to pour bleach on them. It was private property after all. But the plot appeared to be fully abandoned, and that meant Jiang Cheng was free to do as he pleased.

He got more flowers, making sure to pick varieties that were good for bees, because that would make his sister happy, if he ever got around to calling her. He also planted tomatoes, and after hesitation a few courgettes, because those grew like weeds and it wouldn’t matter if someone stole a few, or even all of them. It was the sort of things that’d make his brother happy, except he talked to him even less than to his sister, so Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure why that mattered.

What mattered was that the garden made him happy in a way he hadn’t been in a while. It gave him something to care about. To care for. Something to check on in the morning as he headed out to work, a place to spend a little time when he came home. It encouraged some of the neighbours to chat with him, when up until then they’d apparently half wondered if he was a serial killer with his constant angry face. The little old lady next door asked if she could borrow some of the vegetables growing, and gave him half the dish she made using them.

It felt like a homecooked meal, in a way the family gatherings he still occasionally attended never did.

“You should try planting daylilies,” she suggested. “Pretty and delicious, it’d be a win. My grandmother used to prepare them for us, I’m sure I can remember how to do it too.”

Jiang Cheng did as she asked, and sweet old madam Wen delivered on her promise when the flowers were ready. She invited Jiang Cheng to have lunch with him one Sunday, when her nephew and niece were there. It should have been awkward, but madam Wen was a cheerful old lady that managed to get all three of them chatting as if they’d always known each other.

Better than if they’d always known each other, in Jiang Cheng’s case.

He ended up trading phone numbers with both siblings. Not because he felt like flirting with either, as their aunt so clearly hoped for, but so he knew who to contact if something happened to the old lady. Wen Qing wasn’t very chatty, except to complain about their roommate from hell, but Wen Ning often asked for photos of the garden, and in exchange sent Jiang Cheng pictures of the dogs he got to see at the veterinary clinic where he worked.

For the first time in years, Jiang Cheng felt that things weren’t so bad.

So when one evening after work he dropped by his garden and saw a stranger in an expensive thought pacing by his courgettes, Jiang Cheng felt a familiar dread. If this was the plot’s owner, if he had come to ruin things…

Jiang Cheng rushed ahead, ready to plead his case.

Then stopped after a few steps when the man turned his way. He was handsome. Very handsome. The sort of handsome that belonged on the pages of a magazine, not in the middle of Jiang Cheng’s shitty illegal garden.

The man was also on the phone with someone, and apparently so deep in an argument that he didn’t even see Jiang Cheng just a few metres from him.

“You are the worst,” the man shouted at his phone, “and I swear I’m kicking you out this time. I will… no, don’t cry. Stop crying, it doesn’t work anymore! You…”

The handsome stranger started pacing nervously between the courgettes as whoever was on the other end of the conversation made their case.

“Listen, you are going to calm down, ok? I’m… hey, I’m bringing you flowers. How does that sound?”

He leaned down toward the daylilies, not yet picking one as he waited for the other person to reply.

“Of course real flowers. You… listen, I don’t have the energy for this. We’ll deal with it when I get home.”

The man hung up, and started tearing away Jiang Cheng’s flowers, roots and all, like a barbarian.

Jiang Cheng had always allowed everyone to take what they wanted or needed, but only if they showed some respect for his efforts.

“Stop borrowing flowers out of my garden to woo people who don’t even treat you right!” he barked, stomping toward the man.

The handsome stranger, startled, dropped the flowers.

“Your garden? What do you mean, your garden?”

“You think this got here on its own?” Jiang Cheng asked, gesturing at his garden. It wasn’t as beautiful as his mother’s, but it was his all the same and it loved his plants.

The man looked around with wide eyes, as if he hadn’t even noticed before where he was.

“Sorry, I thought they were just… wild flowers. Did you plant all of those?”

“Not the pumpkins, that’s the kids from down the streets who thought it’d be fun. And the herbs are madam Wen’s because she doesn’t like getting them from the store if she can get fresh ones. But the rest is mine.”

“Must have been a lot of work,” the man said with an admirative whistle. “I can make a cactus die of thirst, so I’m impressed, you must be really good. You’ve been at it for a while?”

“A couple months,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, refusing to let praise from a handsome man get to him. “I live next door and this place has been abandoned for ages apparently.”

“So it’s not your garden,” the stranger noted with a grin. “Well, if you’ve stolen the land, I feel less bad about stealing flowers. It’s not like you can call the cops on me.”

He bent down, ready to slaughter more flowers, so Jiang Cheng did the logical thing and pushed him to protect his daylilies. The handsome stranger fell in the dirt, which thankfully was dry and wouldn’t stain too badly. Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure he could afford to repay that suit.

“If you’re going to steal my flowers for your shitty manipulative wife, at least do it properly. Nobody wants a bouquet with roots.”

The man blinked a few times, a little disoriented after being pushed down. When he saw Jiang Cheng grab the torn daylilies and carefully cut the stems so he could replant the roots, the stranger laughed.

“You’re really passionate about this, uh,” he said, standing up and wiping the dirt from his suit. “That wasn’t my wife on the phone, by the way.”

“Your manipulative husband then,” Jiang Cheng retorted, cutting a few more flowers.

“Little brother,” the man corrected. “Apparently he got drunk last week, slept with my best friend, panicked, ghosted him, left town for five days to hide at his best friend’s house, and now he’s… ah, but you probably don’t care.”

Jiang Cheng shouldn’t care, no, but he couldn’t help laughing at the crazy story. It sounded like something right out of a shitty soap opera, or the kind of bullshit that Wei Wuxian used to pull all the time, back when he was still part of Jiang Cheng’s life.

“My brother’s the same,” Jiang Cheng said, handing out the small bouquet he’d managed to salvage. “Did you take those so he can go apologise to your friend?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure if he’s going to give them to Xichen or if he just wants to keep them to feel spoiled. I’m not sure I’ll give them to him, anyway. It’s not every day a handsome man gives me a bouquet, I’ll be tempted to keep it.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged and rolled his eyes, and absolutely did not blush like a schoolgirl being complimented by her crush.

“Just go give those to your brother. And learn to cut flowers properly, asshole.”

“If I drop by again, will you teach me?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged again and turned away, so it wouldn’t be too obvious just how red his face was. He’d have slapped himself if he could have. It was ridiculous to react so strongly. His only excuse was that the man was really, really gorgeous and had a really, really nice voice… and that it had been a long while since anyone had flirted with him, even this badly.

“Maybe I will, if I can find the time. My life’s not a fucking soap opera but I have my own stuff to do.”

“Fair enough. Well, I hope I’ll see you around. It was nice talking to you.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged, and refused to turn around to watch that too handsome man go, though he might have been slightly tempted.

He’d lost enough time to that asshole already, and the tomatoes weren’t going to water themselves.

[writing-gifts]

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: this fics 30k+ words now and im happy that ive stayed with it this long, but yea thats it lol

First Chapter || Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

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[Late Fall]

You didn't think you'd be meeting Abbacchio so soon--perhaps sometime after Winter. But one day you're taking shelter from the cold when Bruno comes to visit.

These days you never really know for sure when he'll show but this was definitely earlier than usual. Nevertheless, you're glad to have someone to cure your boredom...until you see there's someone else very familiar with him.

You hide partially behind your door trying to slow your racing heart. Was this excitement or fear? Maybe both?

“Er, you’re Abbacchio right?”

When the wasp nods but doesn’t further speak you look at Bruno, but he simply gives you an encouraging smile. You wanted to scold the moth for the nonexistent forewarning, but at the same time with a surprise visit you didn't have time to fret before the actual meeting.

You’ll have to go along with this either way so you put on a polite smile. “You guys want to come in?”

“No, I'd rather stay out here,” Abbacchio replies.

Your brows furrow and your smile becomes more forced. “Uh…”

But it's cold! What the hell, do you two not get cold or something!?

It takes you a moment but then you realize that the wasp was being sarcastic. Probably. But you’re not sure if it’s because he’s trying to be funny or if he doesn’t like you. Or maybe he was messing with you?

Bruno throws him a bemused look. "It would be more comfortable inside don't you think?”

The wasp stares at you in a way that makes you feel like you're being sized up but eventually relents. “Alright.”

You move so Abbacchio can walk in, but Bruno stops next to you.

"Don't be intimidated. He can be like that toward new people and he’s a little grumpy that he had to walk all the way over here," he whispers.

You look over at the wasp already sitting on the daybed remembering his lack of flight and nod. But you weren’t sure if you wanted to deal with a bitchy bug right now.

Bruno goes to sit, but you scuttle to your room with some quickly mumbled excuse so you can collect your thoughts.

What were you supposed to do? Entertain them both? You were far removed from having to actively entertain Bruno when he came over so you felt out of your element.

This meeting should have happened in Spring instead.

You must have been in your room for too long because Bruno shows up.

When he sees you sitting on your bed he raises a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing really. I’m just unsure what to do so I'm hiding. Are we like hanging out?”

Bruno shakes his head. "I don't understand. You don't need to do anything."

"But I feel like I have to since Abbacchio is here though. And he really doesn't look like he wants to be here."

"Well, we aren't going to stay too long if that makes things better. He just wanted to see you. Of course he's too prideful to admit that though."

"Well…He could just be more polite though," you grumble.

"Then he wouldn't be Abbacchio…" Bruno sighs. "Don't worry I talked to him so it'll all work out."

You purse your lips. "...Hey next time just give me a heads up if you're bringing someone over, okay?"

If your unexpected guest was just a little amiable then you wouldn't have cared but that wasn't the case.

Bruno looks a bit surprised that you seem genuinely annoyed, but he gives you the affirmation you want. So even though you're still reluctant, you move off the bed.

“Okay we can go back.”

You walk ahead of Bruno and when you get to the main room you try to talk to the wasp again.

“Uh...Do you want anything to drink?”

"No thanks."

"...Okay."

Instead of sitting down you stand there. Bruno wouldn't lie to you but the wasp's behavior said otherwise. Your friend gently grabs your arm and leads you to the daybed to sit.

"Do you want me to get you something to drink ____?"

"...Sure? It can be whatever."

You realize too late that if he's getting drinks, he’s going to leave you alone with Abbacchio. You squint at Bruno as he exits the room. It shouldn't take long but you're sure Bruno's going to take as long as he sees fit.

So while he’s gone, you sit there quietly sneaking peeks at the wasp trying to figure out how to move things along. He sits, leg spread, looking at nothing in particular.

You had seen the occasional albino insect but this was the first wasp. Which isn’t surprising since you kept clear of any. Until now.

“What?”

You flinch from the sudden break in silence. “W-What?”

“You keep looking at me.”

You try to smile but it definitely comes off more as a grimace from the weird look you get in return.

Sighing, you frown. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be straight forward and say that I feel super awkward right now, and I don’t know what to say or do.”

The wasp crosses his arms. “...You don’t need to say anything. I actually prefer the silence.”

"Oh."

You continue to sit in silence that's slightly less awkward, but again the wasp breaks it.

“How’s your leg?”

Your eyes widen a bit from him trying to start a conversation. “Oh, it’s okay.”

You stretch out your leg, bending it a few times. There was no more pain but a bunch of scars were left behind around your thigh and calf.

“That's good.”

Since he was here you could show your gratitude in person. You hesitate for a moment but remember what Bruno had told you at the forest clearing. And you didn't want to let this possible conversation die.

“Hey, thank you for helping me that day. You really saved my life. And the fact you managed to open that lizard's mouth was pretty amazing!"

You see the stern expression on the wasps face slightly fall, and he gives you a nod. “It wasn't anything--I mean….You're welcome.”

You give your first genuine smile today and Abbacchio looks away looking a bit flushed.

A moment later and the moth finally returns.

"I’m back with your drink ____."

You turn towards Bruno as he walks towards the daybed.

“What the hell were exactly doing in there Bucciarati?” Abbacchio looks over, sounding unimpressed with Bruno's little plan.

"You're not slick Bruno," you add.

He raises a hand in surrender. “Okay you got me. But it worked didn't it?”

You look at Abbacchio.

“...I guess it’s a start,” Abbacchio says.

"I saw you blushing from the kitchen," Bruno says.

“I--Leave me alone.”

You hold back your laugh lest you want to be scowled at by the wasp next.

Bruno hands over your drink and you thank him and relax back into the daybed. Maybe it's okay if they decide to stay longer.

----

For the first time this season, you can't fly. Even after trying to warm yourself up with all your blankets, you'd only be able to stay off the ground for a short time before your wings would give up. And unless you were planning on climbing up the stems of the flowers near your home there was no way you were getting any nectar.

So over the next couple days, whenever you couldn’t fly, you were content with spending most of your time sewing, knitting or sleeping. Even the days where you could fly you'd find yourself spending most of the day inside anyways.

But after a while you start to feel confined in your home, and you suppose you need to do something different. So you finally gather the courage to venture a good distance from your home by yourself.

You decide to use this opportunity to visit a neighbor--a self-proclaimed “vegetarian” spider--so you can get started on Bruno's 2nd gift.

Before you were hesitant to go, even with the gift on the line, but after everything that's happened with Abbacchio you were more at ease with the idea.

Once you actually see the spider's small home, you notice there's no webs for you to get stuck in.

With the spider's help, you hope to learn how to create sheer cloth or lace as he called it. In return, you're willing to part with the rest of the honey you had sitting around.

There was the option to trade for already made lace but you were hellbent on making this gift all on your own. When you tell the spider, Ilyas, this he seems even more excited to share his passion.

“Rarely anyone likes to visit me!”

You smile feeling a bit sad for him. Now that you actually had met him properly you can tell the "rumors" about him being completely harmless were true. He only seemed to use his webs to make lace. How it wasn't sticky was a mystery to you though.

After trying for the first time, Ilyas tells you that you're a natural but that feels like an over-exaggeration. You decide to visit more often though because of his enthusiasm.

He encourages you to practice with small squares first before doing any complicated shapes, and to also experiment with different lace patterns.

When you try to practice on your own, you struggle with making the lace without the spider's help, and the strange tool they had to speed up the process. All you had was your needles, threads, and your inexperienced hands.

There were many times where you would miss a stitch and not notice until you had finished the square. It was frustrating but you would keep at it, trying to finish at least one square a day.

You stare at your most recent square. You didn’t miss a stitch this time so that was good, but you didn't really like the pattern the threads were forming.

You rest your head in your hand, absentmindedly tracing your scars as you study the intricate web-like lace.

The sleep schedule you had somewhat managed to fix at Abilene’s house had slowly drifted back to the way it was before. Along with the days becoming shorter, you felt like you spent a good chunk of the night wide awake. So even though it was pretty late, you weren’t tired at all.

You guess you could start another square with a new pattern but even with your lantern, making lace in the night was a strain on your eyes.

You pull the covers sitting around you on the ground over your shoulders and rest your head on the table.

I wonder if Bruno will show….

While you stare at the lace, you somehow manage to fall asleep. You're not sure how long, but you're woken up by a knock at the door.

Knowing it's Bruno, you quickly get up to answer.

He greets you with a smile. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yea, I didn’t even feel like going to bed at all so I don’t know how that happened."

“Too bad I woke you up then.” He pulls out 3 canisters. “I brought you nectar though.”

“I don't have any to trade though? I stayed in today."

"Don't you think we are past that point in our relationship? I’m just giving it to you as a friend."

"I guess you're right. I’m so used to trading...” you trail off and take the canisters.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You just seem down."

You open one of the canisters to see what's inside and avoid Bruno's analyzing gaze.

"Honestly, I guess I do feel strange? I want to go back to sleep but I don’t really want to at the same time. Maybe I slept weird…"

"I know you probably don't want to hear this right now but maybe you should go out. It might make you feel better."

You shrug. Other than walking to Ilyas's and sometimes getting nectar close by, you spend most of your day inside. Maybe your body wasn’t used to being inside this much. Even during Winter you'd try to go out when you really shouldn't.

“Maybe you're right.”

"Do you want to go to the lake, obviously not near it of course."

Bruno seemed to be trying to tread carefully with you. It was appreciated but at the same time you want him to treat you like usual.

You huff out a laugh. “I know that, but sure let's go.”

You were already dressed in a sweater but invite Bruno in so you can go find a scarf.

While wrapping one around your neck you remember the moth's sweater and see no better time to give it to him.

You grab it off the chair you left it on and walk into the main room.

"Bruno, I finished your sweater!"

You hold the off white sweater out to the moth and he gently takes it from you.

"You finished it that fast?"

You nod.

The moth unfolds it and holds it out. You made it so it would be on the baggier side so he wouldn't feel constricted.

You watch as he turns it around and pulls it over his head. Once he puts his arms through the sleeves he pats down his hair.

You watch as he fiddles with the buttons on one of his sleeves until it comes off allowing his forearm to be free.

"Feels comfortable?"

He nods as he rebuttons the sleeve. "Yes, thank you! I don't even want to take off the sleeves either."

You grin, pleased that he likes it that much. "That's great! Honestly this looks quite good on you..."

"You think so?" The moth strikes a subtle pose.

"O-Obviously! Honestly I think you'd be able to pull anything off."

This gives you even more motivation to make that lacy top for him.

"Okay, let's go before I say anything else embarrassing," you say.

You both head outside, but you find yourself struggling to get off the ground. Apparently the temperature had dropped slightly too low.

"Do you need help?"

"No, no I got it."

You flap your wings a couple times hoping for the blood to finish circulating and with a little more struggling you're off the ground.

“Oh this sucks!”

You couldn’t help being jealous that Bruno could still fly so easily.

"You really don't need to push yourself."

“It's fine. I just needed to stretch out my wings. You do the vibrating thing to warm up and fly right?"

"Yeah."

"So lucky,” you say with a sigh.

"Have you ever tried doing it yourself? It'll get you in the air quicker."

"Hmmm…"

You momentarily stop flying. Clenching your fists, you tense your whole body and try to vibrate, but it’s literally impossible for you to reach the speed Bruno is capable of.

You notice Bruno is covering his mouth as he watches your sorry attempt.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"I’m sorry, the look on your face was cute."

You open your mouth but actual words struggle to come out.

"You--! Don't….Let’s just go already."

While the two of you make the flight to the lake, the moth insists on holding your hand 'just in case your wings give out'. Even though flying so close to someone can be a pain, his hand kept yours quite warm so you don't complain.

The lake feels so much different when you arrive. Without all the insects around, singing, dancing and playing, it felt somewhat lifeless. Even the lilies from before were shut.

“It’s so quiet…”

“Yea but it can be nice like this too. Sometimes I prefer it.

You both sit at the same place you did last time. Even though the rock's surface is cold, you already feel better. You had been nervous stepping out to places that weren’t busy, but with Bruno that nervousness was almost nonexistent.

You wish you had taken the time to come out more often like this with the moth, because once Winter came you wouldn’t be able to see him. You look over at Bruno. He seems lost in his own thoughts.

“Are you ready for Winter?”

He glances at you. “I suppose so…I won’t be able to visit you anymore though. It’s going to feel quieter.”

You hum in agreement. "Why does Winter have to exist? It's like Fall's terrible older sibling."

That gets a chuckle out of the moth. "That's the first time I've heard some describe the season like that."

"Well it is…"

"I guess you could say that."

Silence settles between the both of you but you move slightly in your spot from the restlessness you were beginning to feel. An idea had come into your mind and you were nervous to try it.

Holding your breath, you lean against the moth, but keep your eyes focused on the lake too afraid to make eye contact. If your time with him was going to be limited then maybe you should send even more hints.

A tense moment passes before you feel him shift against you. Your heart jumps when you feel a hand brush against your hip.

"Is this okay?" Bruno’s voice is low and it makes the action feel more intimate.

Don’t panic. This is a good thing!

“Y-Yes.”

You take a moment to calm down and continue speaking. “Is the sweater still comfortable?”

"Definitely. I think you’ll be happy to hear that I don't want to take it off.”

There was a weird sense of pride within you from getting the moth to willingly wear clothes.

"Then my work here is done. Well I'm going to make you more stuff though.”

You cross your arms and snuggle more into Bruno’s side when a particularly cool wind blows through. The moth's hold on you becomes more secure as he brings another arm to your side.

“Too cold?”

“Definitely underestimated it.”

As much as you wanted to stay in this position, you didn't want to stay out here any longer.

“Let’s go back,” you say.

Bruno gives your side a gentle squeeze before removing his arms. He helps you to your feet, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

With that you're ready to go. But when you try to take flight, you can’t, no matter how hard you try.

You look at Bruno unsure what to do.

"I can carry you, if that’s okay with you?”

You didn't exactly have another choice so you agree.

He places his arms on your back before he bends down to lift you behind your legs.

You immediately wrap your arms loosely around his neck as soon as he’s off the ground. This was the first time you had been in a situation like this before so you're kind of nervous.

The air passing by as he flys gives you chills. When you shove your face into the fur on his neck to protect your face, you feel him pull you just a little closer.

"You okay?"

"Cold!" The word comes out muffled. Your tolerance to the cold was almost nonexistent.

"Don't worry, it shouldn't be much longer."

You pull your face away just an inch to peak up at the moth “I'm not making you uncomfortable am I?”

"Of course not. We should actually do this more often."

“Flying together?” you ask confused.

"No. Me holding you."

That has you sputtering and you shove your face back in his fur.

Was that...flirting?

It couldn't be anything else but you still try to convince yourself otherwise.

You try to think of other things but just end up thinking about Winter again. Soon you wouldn't be able to spend time with him like this so casually. You wouldn't get to see him for a whole season!

You frown and your arms tighten around his neck.

When you reach back home you feel reluctant to let go of Bruno. Partially because he's so warm.

"____? We’re back.”

The moth lowers your feet to the ground so you can stand but you still hold on.

"____?"

You finally pull away and look at him.

"It’s--Don't you think It’s gonna suck not being able to see each other everyday?” Your voice wobbles. “I don’t want to wait that long...”

Your only option during Winter was to walk but you’d be dead before you even reached Bruno’s home.

It wasn't forever but if you ever messed Abilene she was a short walk away. Maybe you just weren't used to this.

“What if you forget about me?”

“You’re exaggerating. I wouldn't forget you that easily and Winter will pass before you know it.”

"You say that but you’re frowning! What...What if I stayed with you?"

Any shame you had in your body was dwindling away the longer you stayed up apparently.

"I mean...Isn't it weird that you’ve visited me so many times and I’ve never been over to your home once?"

Bruno seems surprised by your sudden suggestion but not displeased.

"I'm not against this but are you sure you’ll be comfortable staying there all Winter? You won’t be able to come back for some time."

You haven't been away from your home for that long ever, but you can’t think of any heavy cons to being away other than not getting to see Abilene.

You sigh, Winter really was cruel.

“...I’m actually already looking forward to it. The next time the temperature increases I'd better fly over there! Or you could just carry me if that doesn't happen soon enough.”

Bruno is unconvinced though. "You don't look completely sure."

"Because I don't want to be seperated from Abby for that long either..."

You look at the moth hoping for him to solve your predicament for you. "What should I do?"

"I have no problem taking you with me, even if it might upset Abilene, so I don't feel right making this decision for you."

You groan. It was definitely a commendable answer but it still left you with a tough decision. But after some pacing you come to a conclusion.

If you're struggling this hard to just stay at home then it would be best to go….Right? And Bruno wants you there too...

You nod to yourself. "I'm going. I don't want to regret staying here. Even if I have to say goodbye to Abby for some time."

"Okay. I know it's selfish of me but I was actually hoping you would still want to come."

At least someone here wasn't conflicted.

You immediately start mentally making a list of the stuff you need to take over. The biggest hill would be your necta.

“Um Bruno…”

After you explain the situation and show him how many jars you have stored up Bruno looks a bit perplexed, but you both accept that you'll have to just start moving things now. So that night Bruno takes bags of your jars home with him.

The next time you’re able to fly, you make sure to head over to Abilene's to tell them where you plan to spend the Winter.

You expect them to be disappointed, and they are, but they mostly end up teasing you.

"What if you guys are dating by the end of Winter?" they ask with a smirk.

You shake your head at the ridiculous statement, but was it really that improbable? A hopeful part of you said no. Bruno obviously didn’t mind being close to you so maybe...

Abilene touches your arm taking you out of your thoughts. “But seriously, I’m happy for you.”

“But will you be okay by yourself?"

They put their hands on their hips. "It will definitely be more quiet but I'll be okay."

You purse your lips but nod. You wish that the distance between here and Bruno’s home wasn’t so far.

"Do you have your stuff already packed?"

"Actually I kind of need your help, if that’s okay. I need to move a good chunk of my nectar over to his home and it’s a lot."

Abilene shrugs. “Yea, sure.”

"I’ll definitely make it up to you!"

"You don't need to make it up, I want you to get to spend time with your little boyfriend."

You almost deny it but know that you’d be reacting just how they want. “Whatever, let’s just go and start moving everything!"

You, Abilene, and Bruno spend the next several days making multiple trips between you and the moth’s homes. With the help of Abilene, the work doesn’t take as long and helps make up for the days you can't fly.

However with Winter getting closer and closer you decide to leave some of your stash behind. You would just have to be extra careful with how much you drink. Bruno reassures you that he has extra nectar just in case though.

You also make sure to bring all your sewing, knitting and lace equipment, AND all your blankets and pillows!

By the time you finish your last day of moving, it's already night and you and Abilene had said goodbye way before the sun set. You were already planning on making them an extra sweater for all their help. Or maybe a hat?

When you finally get to properly take in Brunos home you already feel at home. It was embedded in a tree stump. And the surrounding area had way more trees than your own home. You could tell sunlight struggled to get through even on the hottest of days.

The thing that amazes you the most is that the inside of his home is lit with multiple lanterns.

Bruno drops the last of your blankets on his bed. "Since you’re diurnal we can just switch out sleeping here--well until it gets too cold."

“Where are you going to stay then?” You had already been reluctant to take up his bedroom but he insisted. Not sleeping in a proper place would start to affect you negatively so it was probably for the best.

"There’s space in Narancia’s room."

You nod before yawning, today was a long day and you wanted to put everything away quickly so you could get into bed.

“You're still up?”

At first you think that Bruno’s talking to you but then you see he’s looking behind you. You turn and see a very young insect walk into the room from behind the wall at the entrance.

Your eyes widen slightly. You had expected to see a squishy baby caterpillar when you first met Narancia but what you see instead is a bumblebee already growing out of grub stage. He was a long way from growing out his wings though.

He wasn’t the same as Bruno?

Still you see the messy, random tufts of yellow and black fur on his small body and can't deny how adorable he is.

“I was but ____,” he says.

The youngling then runs towards you and stops in front of you shifting from foot to foot. You smile down at the energetic little bee.

“Hello, Narancia!” His energy was almost infectious.

“Hi! Papa talks 'bout you. A lot!” His small hands raise out and above him.

You grin at the slightly embarrassed look on the moth's face. He was doing his best to hide it though.

So this whole time I wasn’t the only one.

"Narancia--"

“What type of stuff does he say?”

Bruno deadpans at your interruption.

The bee tries to explain but part of it comes off unintelligible. You nod along though to the stuff you can understand like 'nice' and 'flowers'. You think you catch something about your wings too.

“Narancia, it’s bedtime,” Bruno says after his son seems to run out of words.

“Why? I’m not sleepy."

“I know, but we need to fix your sleep schedule.”

Looks like you weren’t the only one struggling to sleep at the “proper” times either.

The bee huffs. "I wanna stay here..."

Bruno holds out a hand to him, which Narancia pouts at but grabs.

“I’m going to go put Narancia back to bed and I’ll come back to help.”

“Goodnigh’,” Narancia says to you.

“Night. We can play later, okay?”

The bee nods obviously still not wanting to leave.

Once he and Narancia leave you use this chance to properly look around his room. Other than the bed and the small table next to it, there's a small dresser (where he probably kept some of the clothes he never wore) a floor length mirror, and a shelf.

This room was also lacking in lanterns compared to the others. You take notice of one of the lanterns sitting on the shelf in between some books and get the feeling the moth put them in here for you.

Other than that, the room was quite neat and the furniture looked elegant and costly. It was definitely a bedroom that said ‘Bruno Bucciarati’.

You decide that's enough investigating and go back to organizing, and soon after Bruno returns to help.

The both of you work, talking about small unimportant things but you finally ask what has been at the back of your mind since you saw Narancia.

“Um...why is Narancia living with you?”

A bee usually lives within a community of other bees of their type their whole lives--kind of like ants or wasps--so you were curious, but almost not surprised since Bruno seemed to have a penchant for gathering deviant insects.

“...I found him alone in a dead hive and I took him in.”

Bruno seemed reluctant to go into it and honestly you didn’t think it was your place to intrude, so you accept that answer with an “Oh”.

Bruno stops stacking jars in his closet to look at you. "I should have told you he was a bee sooner, yea?"

"Hmm, not really. Does it really matter?"

"...I guess you're right,” Bruno says but he doesn’t sound too sure.

Maybe some insects told him it was weird.

“Well it’s great that you found and took in Narancia. Nature isn’t exactly patient with larvae.”

The moth nods. “That’s true. The only problem is our different sleep schedules and the feeding. Well it was until you told me about how honey can be watered down."

“So you gave the honey I gave you to Narancia?”

“Well I might have eaten some too.” He smiles a bit. “But I got more ‘straight from the source’ so it’s fine. And Narancia doesn't go through the supply as quickly anymore now that it's better quality.”

You feel pleased that you had managed to help the moth, even if it was unintentional.

By the time you, Bruno, and Narancia--who wouldn’t stay in bed--finish finding spots to put all your jars, it’s well into the night.

You lay in Bruno’s bed under numerous covers and among all your pillows. It smelt faintly of flowers, ones you would usually smell on the moth. It’s almost like you're shoving your face into his fluffy fur.

For once you’re ready to go to sleep the moment you’re in bed. You shut all the other lanterns in the room but kept yours open. At this point, sleeping with it was necessary for you.

As you feel yourself drifting off, a knock on the door pulls you back.

“Come in…” you say through a yawn.

Bruno slowly opens the door and walks in.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Not this time but you tend to show up when I am.”

“Sorry, I’m not doing it on purpose I swear.” Bruno comes over to sit on the edge of the bed.

You smile at him feeling even more relaxed under your covers.

“It’s okay, seeing you is better than sleeping, “ you say through a yawn. “Thanks again for letting me say. I’m really happy I'll get to see you everyday.”

"Me too. I know I tried to act like the Winter would go by quickly but...I was actually dreading it.”

You feel relief and almost happy that Bruno felt the same way.

"Why'd you come?" you ask.

"I...I just wanted to see you."

The both of you stare at each other in the dim light for a moment, you mostly confused. Then for some reason Bruno leans over closer to you, but you don’t move away.

"Can I kiss you?"

Maybe you're too tired to overthink but you feel surprisingly calm. You don't trust your voice though so you nod instead.

When he closes the space and his lips press against yours you’re unsure if you’re dreaming or not.

You feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip and you think he'll deepen it, but his hand caresses your cheek and he pulls back.

You stare into his faintly glowing eyes as you struggle to speak. "Was...was that a goodnight kiss?"

Bruno’s finger traces your bottom lip. “Do you want it to be?”

"I um--Maybe it can be more?"

His stare feels so intense and you struggle to keep eye contact but you don't want to look away either.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), the moth presses a soft kiss to your cheek before standing up.

“Goodnight ____."

“N-Night Bruno.”

Even though your body feels warmer, you pull the covers close. The fatigue you had was practically whooshed away. So you stare wide-eyed at the lantern--the only thing keeping you company.

-----

A/N: I made art for narancia! anyways im gonna make the next 3 chapters as fluffy/domestic as i possibly can (the next updates might be a little slow tho, kind of stressed with real life stuff so please bear with me)

[jinderellas-castle]

Truth or Dare (K. Taehyung) Chapter 1

There was this prompt that said like you're at a party and you play truth or dare and some random person says "I dare you to go home" and then everyone at the party dies mysteriously except for you and the random person b u t I've always been listening to Drugs by Upsahl (It's a great song I highly recommend) and this series was born. Hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: talk of drugs(literally just weed lol)

Masterlist

You were never one for parties, or any big social gatherings for that matter. You’d rather be at home, smoking weed, and drowning out the constant fighting in your house. It was a lifestyle you had gotten used to. Unfortunately for you, your low paying job at Wendy’s fired you and your dealer increased the prices. You used to be able to steal pills from your mom while she was gone, but eventually she found out, which got you in a shit ton of trouble.

So when you get a random text from someone in your school saying that they’re having a party with free drugs and alcohol, you were not going to pass it up, no matter how uncomfortable you were with the sheer amount of people in one house.

The music was loud, and the flashing lights were starting to give you a headache. Instead of sitting on the couch next to a couple getting a little too touchy, you decided to get up and look around, hoping to find somewhere to drink peacefully or even better, the drugs you were told were going to be there.

It was somewhat quieter in the kitchen, being the only well lit spot in the entire house. There was a huge punch bowl on the kitchen counter next to a stack of red cups. Grabbing the ladle you decided to poor yourself a cup of whatever was in the bowl, that is until some drunk fuck bumped into you and nearly knocked the punch bowl over.

“Hey watch where you’re goin-”

“Don’t drink that.” Before you could finish telling off whoever it was that pushed you, you were cut off by a deep voice. You turned around to see who it was and nearly died on the spot when you saw him. He had ebony hair and a tattoo under his right eye, although you couldn’t seem to make out what the words were. Before you even got the chance to respond he disappeared from the kitchen and somewhere into the ever growing crowd.

What the fuck was that?

After the initial confusion of what happened wore off you went back to pouring your drink, but for some reason, you decided not to, the random guys warning ringing through your ears. You decided that you weren’t that thirsty anyways and opted to just hang out in the kitchen while watching everyone else get wasted.

Although you were starting to get very bored, you decided to just hang out a little longer and see if there were even any drugs at this party. You went on your phone, trying to look through your social media out of pure boredom, until you noticed that the music cut off and a voice boomed through the house.

“Guys let’s play truth or dare!” There was a sickeningly large amount of cheers and giggles from drunk people, trying to make a makeshift circle in the living room. You of course had no intention to play the stupid game that would probably end up with someone breaking a bone or two. Leaning against the counter you watched people fall over each other in the attempt to sit on the floor in amusement. “Hey you!”

You didn’t notice the voice was talking to you until everyone went silent, and when you looked up from your phone all eyes were on you. Stupidly enough you pointed to yourself with a questioning look until some people nodded.

“Come play with us!”

“Um no I don’t really want-” before you knew it, two girls were at your side, leading you to where the rest of the group was, and before you knew it, you were smashed between two drunk sweaty guys.

You were getting through with just saying truth every time it was your turn, and answering almost every question with a lie. For a couple rounds you were skipped and you were starting to think they just forgot about you and you already began trying to leave when that same deep voice talked again when it was your turn.

“I dare you to go home.”

What?

This time you were able to clearly put a face to his voice, getting a weird sense of familiarity from him, although you’ve never talked to this guy in your life before tonight. You sat there staring at him, studying his face that looked dead serious. You were slightly pissed, the party had been a total bummer with nothing that was promised beforehand, and now some random guy is basically kicking you out.

“I said I dare you to go home,” he repeated, this time a little louder, and so you stood up, and looked him in the eye and flipped him off, before turning around. You rolled your eyes at all the comical ‘oohs’ in the crowd and tried to step over all the trash on the floor.

“Tae you’re so mean,” some random girl giggled. Tae? You didn’t know any Taes, at least you didn’t think you did. But for some reason this Tae was being a dick head towards you since you two first met. You assumed maybe he was just drunk and was pissed that he hasn’t gotten his dick wet.

Without looking back at the house that smelled horribly like alcohol and vomit, you made your way to your car and made your way back home.

--

boop <3

[rose-sunlight]

you and spencer have been dating for 2 years and in the episode ‘Demons’ you get shot in the neck instead of spencer and when you wake up in the hospital, the doctor come in telling you you’re pregnant, and afterwards spencer gives this big love speech and proposes to you in the end.

Hey! Sorry this took such a long time, but this was slightly difficult considering I couldn’t actually find 9x24 in my country, which sucked ass. I basically had to use a transcript, so it may seem off to you guys. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

RSVP: Marry Me?

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader, Platonic!BAU x Reader

Warnings: Blood, Getting Shot, 9x24 Spoilers, Angst, Pregnancy

Texas was hot. It wasn’t the smartest observation that Y/n could’ve taken on, not at this specific moment, but it was still a factual piece of data. Spencer loves factual pieces of data, he was always spouting random facts to her in their shared apartment, either in between romantic embraces or in the most sporadic of moments.

“Did you know the scientific term for brain freeze is “sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia?”

“If you cut down a cactus in Arizona, you’ll be penalized up to 25 years in jail. It is similar to cutting down a protected tree species!”

“Fun fact, Romeo and Juliet wasn’t an original piece, it was actually based on a poem called “The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet” that he changed the ending to because he didn’t like how most of the characters died. Romeo and Juliet was therefore a work of…what did you call it, Y/n, ‘fan fiction?””

“The youngest pope was actually 11 years old, so think about that the next time you call me a nerd for completing my undergrad at 16, Y/n”

“Did you know that 58 percent of Americans have called in sick at work when they weren't? And that 91 Percent lie regularly?”

Y/n would have to sigh and push him off her legs, keeping her hands rooted firmly in his hair still “No Spencer, we’re not calling in sick because of a statistic, get up.”

And he would oblige, standing up and putting on his shirt as he glared at Y/n jokingly, before she turned to get out of their bed, showering before work, the smell of coffee and bacon wafting through the house. Sure, boxes were still everywhere, and Y/n was convinced that half her shirts had gone missing from the move, and yes, there was probably a stray racoon in one of these boxes, but it felt like home. Their first home.

Y/n’s desperately wanted to be home right now. Texas, as she had already stated, was hot. It was hot and it wasn’t home, where she could lie in her own bed without sweating profusely, even though Spencer was a human heater most nights. She could even feel him now, his heat radiating as he held her close and tightly in his arms as he whispered sweet nothings into the top of her head. She would’ve smiled if she could’ve; right now, all she could focus on was gasping for her next breath.

Spencer had his arm pressed tightly to her neck, and was crying. Blake, now that Y/n focused more clearly, was screaming out for anyone to help. “We need a medic now!” She was yelling into her comms, “There’s too much blood!”

Oh, Y/n thought, that was her.

It became all too clear now, the Unsub, the bullet…the firearm pointed straight at Blake, with no one focused on her to warn her. She had jumped out of her cover at the last minute, attempting to help her fellow agent. She hadn’t even thought about Spencer, who had to drag her lifelessly away to find cover, and was now softly scolding her as she lay dying. She could remember her teammates calling out her last name, but only now was the fogginess of her mind lifting.

It was replaced by sheer, immense pain. The worst part was that she couldn’t cry, or breathe, to express the amount of earth-tearing pain she was in. Instead, all Y/n could do was lie on the floor uselessly as Spencer watched her bleed out in his arms.

He softly cupped her face, stroking it affectionately as she closed her eyes and opened them drowsily. “Hey. Hey, you’re doing great, alright?” Y/n let out a dopey smile, only half of her lips moving. “Yeah. You gotta stay right here, ok?”

Blake moved to check the blood pouring out of the wound, but wasn’t happy with the results. Y/n’s eyes closed for longer, and Blake was the one to take notice “Eyes on me, L/n,” She instructed “Eyes on me,” Her tone was firm, but you could tell she was panicked.

Y/n shut her eyes, and she could hear Blake calling out for someone “No, no. No.” She was crying, much more emotional than Blake usually was towards anyone on their team. “Ethan? Ethan!”

Everything went black, except for the red-hot fire around her, licking from her neck to her fingertips.

The next time Y/n came too, she was in an ambulance. Spencer had a hand wrapped around hers, and she could vaguely see Derek, sitting and having his wound treated to. There were no two other people she would want by her side at the moment. Spencer’s warm presence was anchoring her to this body, to this life, and Derek was doing much the same. But there were too many loud noises: one in particular was sending shocks through her body. It was loud, like a high-pitched dog whistle, the kind you could hear when your ears were still young, and didn’t know evil words of the world.

“The sound is like a teakettle. Do you hear it?”

Spencer looked up through tears “What?”

“Y/n” Derek softly said, but it was no use, her chest arched upwards, her body tensing as if she had been tazed. There was beeping, and everything seemed to rush. The EMT’s began to work on her, spitting fast words at each other. Spencer was smart, he knew what they meant: Y/n L/n was dying, right here In this ambulance, she was flatlining. He couldn’t stop his sobs.

“Y/n!” Derek cried out again, but the EMT that was patching him up pushed him back to a sitting position.

“Agent, you’ve got to sit back.”

Derek was frantic “You gotta help her, man.”

Spencer was muttering things to her, like she would hear him and wake up, immediately stop bleeding out. “Come on, now, baby, stay with me. I’m right here. Y/n!”

There was more beeping, and for a second, Derek was sure she was gone. “Y/n!”

The waiting room was sombre and quiet. Nothing felt right without her by their sides, cracking jokes and smiling with the widest smile she could. Her family had been told, but no one could get out. They all lived far away, far enough that travelling to the hospital where Y/n was fighting for her life was impossible. So, all that was left was the BAU, her chosen family, all in various states of unrest and upset. Derek had been taken to another room to be bandaged up, but he vowed he would not stay in the room long, and that he’d be with them in minutes. It had been an hour, and no news had come through the doors.

JJ walked through the door, tucking her phone back into her pocket and approaching Alex, who was sitting off by herself, hands grasping each other, still red with their teammates blood. JJ tried not to wince. “Anything yet?” She asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“No.” Blake shortly replied. Her eyes were fixed on her hands.

“Y/n would have profiled like two people by now out of boredom. Maybe 3.” Garcia noted sadly. It was true, Y/n had a certain knack for profiling people based on appearance; the BAU ladies often took her out to bars just so she could pick out the good dates from the bad. Of course, they didn’t just bring her along for that—she was also a mean Karaoke partner.

This seemed to make Blake even sadder “It should have been me.”

JJ shook her head “Or me or any of us.”

“No,” She said, standing up to face the other Agent with unshed tears in her eyes “She pushed me out of the way. If she doesn't make it—”

Spencer stood up “I can’t listen to this.” He told them, moving towards the door. Rossi stood up too, blocking his exit by placing a handout.

“You can’t leave. She needs you here, and we can’t let you put up your walls right now. Sit down, kid.” He instructed, looking to Hotch for support. Hotch just nodded, patting the seat next to him. Spencer didn’t have the energy to protest, so he let himself sink down into the chair, wiping his eyes.

“She has to. Make it, I mean. She's just--she's too young.” Rossi said towards the other agents, who were looking guiltily towards their friend, who was sitting with his head in his hands, blood still on his clothes, face, hair, and hands. He was shaking like a leaf, his left leg bouncing erratically.

“Yeah, there's still things for her to do,” JJ said, sitting back down beside Garcia, “You know, she wants kids. Can you imagine Y/n as a mom?” JJ laughed softly

“I reckon she’d be a straight up soccer mom. Y’know, riding around in the Volvo, picking up little Timmy and Lorraine from practice?” Garcia joined in, smiling at the very picture of Y/n, one of her closest friends, and fairly guarded with her emotions, being a soccer mom. Then, she was overcome with emotions, spotting Spencer again, who’s jitters had calmed. He was thinking of the same things. “That'd be the luckiest kid in the world.”

“No doubt.” Rossi said with a smile, patting Spencer on the back as he did so.

Spencer’s sobs broke through the room’s silence, and everyone seemed to freeze. Their friend wasn’t usually so loud with his emotions, it seemed like whenever he cried, he cried silently. This was different; this was loud, and heart-wrenching. It was muffled behind his knuckle, which he was biting to keep from making noise. It wasn’t helping. JJ began to cry, too, and then his friends were all around him in a group hug. Whatever the outcome of the day would be, it was nice to know they would still be a family.

People came and went after that: there was still a case to solve. Although everyone wanted to focus on Y/n, there were young women being killed, and if they could save them too, then maybe everything could return to normal. Spencer, Blake, and Garcia were the only ones left.

“Agent” A doctor said as he approached the three agents as if he were approaching wild animals. Blake’s heart was in her mouth as she tried to keep herself composed. Garcia was latched onto Spencer, whose knees looked as if they would give out at any moment. As the doctor entered the room, he shot up, clasping a hand around his mouth.

Garcia held his hand tightly, speaking for him in a soft voice “How is she?”

“Incredibly lucky” He replied while Spencer let out a sigh of relief, wiping his eyes once more. The doctor still looked concerned though, so he let them continue speaking “Two millimetres to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked some smaller vessels, but we've stopped the bleeding.”

“Oh, thank god,” Garcia sighed, placing a hand on her heart.

“Are you her partner?” The doctor glanced towards Spencer, who looked up and sniffed.

He nodded weakly “Uh…yes, yeah, I am.”

“Ok, great. Can we speak in private? Just through here.” The doctor said. Spencer gave a nervous glance to Garcia, who just nodded for him to go. “You could see her now, if you’d like, Agents.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll keep her company, Spence.” Spencer nodded and made his way to the doctors office. It was a small office with surgical white walls, with one brown oak desk sitting in the middle o the room, the computer ancient and dusty.

“So, Agent Reid-”

“It’s…it’s Doctor.” Spencer corrected, feeling the pang in his heart when he realised it wasn’t Y/n correcting the man. The doctor nodded with a sympathetic smile, before typing something into his computer quickly.

“So, I can assure you that Agent L/n is as healthy as she could be. We ran all the tests we could to ensure her recovery was quick. However,” Spencer sucked in a harsh breath, shifting position in his seat, “when running a blood test to check for infections and see if her kidney functions were all good, well, we did notice…an irregularity. Her hCG levels are increasingly high, which does in fact indicate a pregnancy which has affected our duty of care.”

Spencer wanted to cry. He wanted to sob from a mix of elation and fear, but instead, he just blinked. He had so many thoughts about how he should react that he actually forgot to do so. The doctor was waiting for him to say something, but it was a few painful seconds before he could actually conjure a sentence. This was all wrong. Y/n was supposed to be here to find this out with him.

Spencer’s mouth was dry, and felt as if someone had force-fed him cotton. “Is…is it…?”

“We did extensive checks, both mom and baby are fine. She’s set to wake up in an hour or so—do you want a nurse to explain everything to her?”

Spencer paused before shaking his head “No…no, I’ll tell her.”

And so he does. Spencer walks into her private room, where Garcia has organised all her favourite things on the meal tray, and lets out a smile. Photos of the team and Y/n line the tray, along with trinkets from her favourite TV shows. Blake is to the side of the room on one of the uncomfortable chairs, her eyes constantly on Y/n’s form.

And then, Spencer only sees Y/n. She’s been propped up by one of the nurses on an endless amount of pillows, and her neck is tightly bandaged. One hand rests on her stomach, and the very thought sends a tingle down his spine. But she’s awake, and looking around the room at her friends. The doctors said she’d be asleep for another hour: clearly, they’d never met Y/n, who always exceeded expectations.

“Hey, Spencer, can you tell her she can go now, please?” Y/n raised a single finger to Blake, who had raised her head again with a soft smile “I'm ok, Alex. Go help the team. Spencer’s here, I’ll be fine!”

Blake stood up, patting her legs “All right. I'm out of here,” She said, turning to leave the room with one final statement, “I'm glad you're awake.”

“Thank you” Y/n said with a large smile, before wincing at the strain on her neck.

Garcia took note of his poorly concealed smile, but probably chalked it down to seeing his love awake and smiling back at him “You ok, Spencie?” She asked, before setting down one final trinket on the table.

“uh…yeah, yeah, I’m great, Garcia. Could you possibly get us some coffee?”

Garcia nodded and left the room. Truthfully, Spencer wasn’t thirsty, he just wanted to be alone with his favourite person, and his new favourite creation. He wanted to spout random facts he had learnt about pregnancy to Y/n, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. Even though she was awake, the seeds of doubt had already been sewn, and he was waiting for a drop in vitals, and the moment he’d have to say goodbye to the life he’d already built in his head. He had to make sure Y/n was alright.

Y/n was staring back at him fondly as Spencer stroked her cheek. “When this comes off, I'm gonna look just like Boris Karloff.” She said jokingly.

Spencer let out a small chuckle, “A little green makeup and you'll have the best Halloween mask ever.”

She went to get up out of bed, but Spencer placed a hand on her stomach to keep her down. “Everybody's fine. Don't worry.” He assured her

“I'm not. You’re the one that’s got that furrowed brow.”

“Just worried about you, that’s all. Hey, the doctor told me something before I got in here…” Y/n shifted again, fear hitting her in a wave—was there something wrong? She couldn’t help the dark spiral her mind was going towards. “Don’t worry, it’s…unexpected, definitely, but it’s something we both wanted.”

“Okay…Spence, you’re scaring me a little bit, what’s up?”

“The doctor found high levels of hCG in your blood.” He blurted out. Y/n placed a hand on her mouth, tears filling her eyes, “Don’t worry, though, the…the baby’s fine. They’re ok.”

“oh my god, Spencer,” Y/n was beyond emotional “I could’ve died and not known about it. I almost killed…”

Spencer placed a hand over hers, smiling softly and as reassuringly as possible. “You didn’t, though, and you didn’t know! Look, it wasn’t anyone’s fault—you’re alright, so is she!”

Y/n nodded “I know, but-wait, did you say she?”

“Well, technically, we all start as female, so yeah, she would be a she right now-”

Y/n let out a loud laugh “Spencer, I’ve known about her for thirty seconds, and you’ve already spouted a fact.” He blushed a bright red colour “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Spencer said, before bringing his hand to her midsection lovingly “And I love you too. In fact, I love you, Y/n, more than I thought I could ever love anyone. I’ve loved you since the day I first saw you enter the BAU, and I’ll love you until the day I die, because loving you…” he tried to swallow his emotion “loving you is the best possible thing I could ever do with my life…uhm, sorry, I’m add-libbing here, I didn’t bring a speech. I was going to do it when we got home yesterday, but…this all happened…I don’t even have the ring with me…”

“Spence…”

“So this isn’t the proposal. This isn’t, because I want to do it right, and…and you’re in a hospital bed, it just doesn’t feel right. So, this is more like a RSPV for a later date. So, Y/n L/n, when I ask you to marry me…”

Y/n’s voice was overcome with such emotion, it was almost like a different person. She smiled widely, not caring about the amount of pain she was in, or the safest amount painkillers they had given her, and nodded her head at the man in front of her, his frame bent over her bed, too afraid to sleep beside her in case she broke, “Spencer Reid, I will say yes.”

Their kiss was tender and full of promises.

When Garcia came back with the coffee, she took notice of how the couple was latched onto each other, eyes closed and a tangle of limbs. She noted how Spencer was finally sleeping, and how Y/n had one hand in his hair, and the other on her stomach, where her fingers interlocked with Reid’s. She smiled to herself, took a sip of her coffee, and placed the other down on the side, before turning off the main light and leaving the room. She had a serial killer to catch.

masterlist | submit a request here

[bonesock]

warmth

- fandom: skyrim. - word count: 1.6k. - rating: teen. (tw vaguely suggestive themes / tooth-rotting fluff). - pairing: (established relationship) ondolemar / original female bosmer character. - summary: She’d left, and she’d taken the sun with her.  Without her closeness, there would be no summer.

ao3 mirror here!

          The chambers echoed with the gale of falling platters.  Ondolemar startled awake and watched the scattering; beef tendons laid limp aside leeks and blushing eggplants and tomatoes bruised blue.  The plate rolled and settled, and the floor dug its cold tendrils in his bare feet as he hovered the ground.  Through the darkness and the rock, an unmistakable honey-colored reflex caught the air, and he recognized her presence through it alone.  His muscles eased, and he relaxed into the bedside. “Must you scare me at every given opportunity?”

          “It was an accident.  I was trying to surprise you. Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just finish your food,” she taunted.  A smile teased her lips, and she gathered the wayward food ‘til her arms grew heavy with meat and vegetables.  “Your appetite’s leaving you.”

          “Yes, well, pardon my fleeting hunger.  I was far too concerned to eat.”

          Dirt and smudged grime imprinted her clothes, and she languidly stripped to her smalls. All the while, Ondolemar watched her, eyes half-lidded and steady as she bared herself to naked flesh. Arya chortled, “Far too concerned, yeah? Sounds daft as anything.  What’s concerning to you?  The other elves been bullying you, yeah?  Ah, look at that musty old fop.  Can’t even grow a decent hairline, that one.  It’s all a buncha pish.  Altmer superiority, yeah? Pish as anything.  What’s so superior about not having any hair?”

          She stood barren, now, with her clothes abandoned to the floor.  The strands of her braid were a loosened mess, and her smalls were ill-fitted to her shapely curves. Ondolemar outstretched his fingers, searching for her skin between his digits.  Her warmth contrasted his chill, and the sensation sent shivers to her spine.  She stationed between his legs, and his head fell to her chest as either arms snaked around her waist. When he spoke, his voice muffled into her skin.

          The tips of Arya’s fingernails grazed his scalp.  A faint laugh escaped her.  “What was that?”

          Ondolemar’s lids grew heavy.  Tingles traced his neck.  He keened into the embrace.  His voice was an indolent excuse of breath.  “That’s not what I was concerned about,” he groaned.

          “Oh, yeah?  It’s something I’d be concerned about.”

          “Yes, I’m sure.”  His slight fingers glided the small of her back. “Come to bed.”

          “You’re already tired?  It’s barely midnight.  I thought you were the superior elf between us, yeah?”

          “I am the superior elf.  Come to bed,” he said, firmer this time.  Without protest,  she retreated into the sheets.  The bed creaked beneath her weight. She decorated herself in lush fur blankets. The warmth of her skin radiated onto Ondolemar’s chest, and he felt as she tossed and shuffled in his embrace.  His gangly limbs coiled about her body, fingers deft and slithered into her damp flesh, as if he were some feral animal, caught to his prey.  In her absence, he’d rendered himself wintry and gluttonous. He searched tirelessly for any warmth to compare; he stood around crackling campfires and ran steaming baths ‘til memory served him well.  He lurked his fingers above lit stoves, willed fiery magic to his sweating palms, charred and scolded and burned the remnants of their affairs ‘til he was dedicated to retention.  In her absence, he homed himself in idle fantasy.  Still, the comfort of idle fantasy would never grant satiation.  It was the warmth of proximity he craved.  Whenever she parted, such rang true:  She’d left, and she’d taken the sun with her.  Without her closeness, there would be no summer.

          As Arya stilled in his arms, he exhaled a deep breath.  Ondolemar’s lips brushed against her back. When he spoke, his voice steadied and quelled, and each syllable reverberated on her skin.  “I was concerned about you.”

          “Me, yeah?”

          Ondolemar curled tighter around her body, holding her as a child holds his stuffed animal when he sleeps.  Whatever refrain he’d once demonstrated had long since vacated.  To imagine, how easily she unzipped his frantic skin—how effortlessly she beset his undoing.  He sighed, “Yes, you. Insolent girl.”

          “Insolent, yeah?  That’s ‘cause I called you a musty old fop and insulted your hairline and all? I didn’t mean it, y’know—was just joshing, s’all, yeah? I mean, really, I was saying that those other elves might have one at you for it. But not me!  I like your bald head.  And I forgive you for being a musty old fop.”

          “You’ve always been an insolent girl.  Your insults only further prove my assertion.”

          “Oh, yeah, and I’ve still got hair, yeah?”

          Ondolemar’s gaunt fingers twined into her messy strands.  His lips planted tender kisses to her nape, and she squirmed into his chest.  The efforts were unconscious, as though his muscles repeated it with instinct. In his state of exhaustion, he hardly recognized his own actions. He’d focused himself on the graze of her skin, the feel of her caress.  Desperation became him, and he imagined it, how many long and dreadful moons passed since he’d last discovered her embrace.  How many ugly mornings had managed without her incessant sunlight, and how many dull nights were neglected of her hearty stupor.

          Still, even in her presence, still he yearned.

          He traced wet kisses atop her shoulders.  “I really was concerned for you.  Dawnstar’s riddled with intellectually depraved Nords.   I’d rather you not take extended leaves to such a place.”

          “Yeah? Well, you know, the Nords don’t treat me so bad.  Plus I’m really into the cold.  I sweat, you know?  Real bad.  You know this. You’ve seen it, yeah?  But it’s cold in Dawnstar.  Frigid as a whole bastard. I like that.  Plus, you know, maybe the Nords don’t like you ‘cause you’re bald, yeah?  Just like the elves don’t like you ‘cause you’re bald.”

          “Which elves are you referring to, exactly?”

          “The ones from my hypothetical earlier, yeah?  Those ones.”

          “Ah, of course.”  He sprawled onto his back, his arm extended to hold the warm body clung to his side.  She nuzzled into his shoulder.  He felt her smile pressed to his skin.  “The Nords dislike me because they’re inferior to me.”

          “Oh, yeah, elven glory and all that, huh?  Altmer superiority?”

          “Yes, precisely.”  His lips pursed.  “I was being serious, Arya.  I’d prefer if you didn’t go to such places.”

          “Well, you can come with me next time, then, yeah?  We can go around and spread those superior Altmer genes of yours.”

          “Don’t jest.  Those Nords don’t deserve my genes.”

          She snickered, “Oh, yeah.  The gene pool’s gotta keep pure, yeah?  I swear, that’s about as daft as anything.  Can’t be all purity-this, elven-glory-that, when you give your genes to a Bosmer.  Like a rabbit, I swear you are. What will your Thalmor buddies say about you, then?”

          “About me?”

          “Yeah, when all your little nippers come out halflings?”

          A smile crept onto Ondolemar’s lips, and he shielded himself in her shoulder blade to disguise this.  “I wasn’t aware we planned to have children.”

          “Well, no, but eventually, yeah?  What else will we do to starve off the boredom?”

          “Ah, of course.  That’s what children do, naturally.  Starve away boredom.”

          Arya leaned her chest against his, their faces pressed cheek-to-cheek.  She felt his breaths ghost her nose, and while astride in their closeness, she stole a few chaste kisses. “Well, yeah.  You’ve seen a kid, yeah?  Now, they’re daft as anything.  Kinda cute though, yeah?  All mushy.  I thought you liked mushy?  You like me, yeah?  About as close as you can get.”

          “I do like you, yes.”

          “Yeah? Good, then.  So you’ll like a kid too, then, yeah?  ‘Cause I reckon we’d make a cute one.  Mushiest little tyke, yeah?”

          Ondolemar’s hands trailed the back of her exposed thighs.  Goosebumps emerged in the places where his fingers graced. His lips brushed her forehead.  “Indeed.”

          “And, you know… I probably wouldn’t have a reason to go to Dawnstar all the time.  I mean, not when I’m all heavy and all, yeah?  That’d really be daft as anything.  Nah, I’d have to stay in Markarth.  I could probably make home here, yeah.  Get a nice little place.  I like stone just fine, really. I could make do here. So long as I have a superior elf to give me his superior genes, yeah?”

          He stifled his laughter.  “I see, I see.  I suppose it’s something to consider.”

          “Vlindrel Hall’s for sale, you know?”

          “I did know, yes.”

          “So we’ll buy it tomorrow then, yeah?”

          “I said I’d consider it, dear.”

          “Well, yeah.  But what else are you gonna do?  Buy a house without me?  Give your superior Altmer genes to yourself?  Pish.  Daft as anything, you are.”

          His lips trailed from her forehead to her eyelids, to her cheeks, to the soft curve of her jaw.  It was an impossibility to force himself awake; his body had long subdued to exhaustion, and it was only by the sheer force of her bothersome will that he remained conscious.  “There won’t be anything to consider if you don’t let me sleep, little dove.”

          “Little dove, yeah?  Gonna start calling you big pigeon.  Real endearing, isn’t it, yeah?  I’m a real romantic.  Bard’s college gets you all romantic.  Isn’t that right, big pigeon?”

          “Do you ever sleep?”

          “Ah, don’t tell me I’ve worn you out already, huh?  Didn’t even do anything, neither.  You really are a musty old fop.”  Arya fell to her spot on the bed.  “Alright, then.  I’ll let you sleep.  But you gotta consider it, yeah?  I mean, really consider it.”

          “I will consider it.  Now, please.  Let this old fop sleep.”

          “Ah, okay.  I love you, musty old fop—see, it’s musty old fop, yeah?  Not old fop.  Musty old fop.”

          “Of course, dearest,” he sighed.  “I love you too.”

          “Even if I’m insolent?”

          Ondolemar smile stretched ear-to-ear.  He placed a final kiss on her nape. “Yes, even so.”

[brief-candle]

ǫᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ - Akaza

yeehaw

was debating posting the 1 haikyuu request i did here but i’m really not a fan of it so i decided to just not. i’m not deleting it off my quotev though, because it’s a part of the learning process ^^

also akaza is harder to write than i thought >:0

series: kimetsu no yaiba/ demon slayer.

notes: MANGA-ONLY CHARACTER, yandere (platonic edition), young reader, implied death of a minor character, fluff.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

"Hey, Akaza?" The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them. Before I even glanced to see whether he was actually listening (or willing to listen) or not, I continued with another question. It was one I already knew the answer to, and it was an answer I didn't like, but I couldn't help but ask it every now and again. Just in case he changed his mind, I suppose. Even if such a thing was pretty much impossible for him.

"Can I go outside?"

As soon as I asked, I found that I didn't even want to look in his direction anyway. The atmosphere shifted immensely once those words dropped from my lips, staining the relaxed air with tension and suspense with every passing second. Like an open wound on one's favourite piece of clothing, it seemed to stain more and more until utterly ruined, no matter how much was done to save it. Or something like that, anyway.

"You already know the answer." There wasn't any indication that he even heard what I'd said before he spoke.

"True." I stretched my arms out behind me for a moment, hearing a small crack as I did so. Thankfully Akaza didn't particularly care much for those types of things, so didn't scold me like my mother used to do. Always nagging about being ladylike and manners, the whole lot. But, as I rested my arms behind my head and stared up at the now-familiar ceiling, I supposed that I missed it every now and again. And now was one of those 'every now and again's. After all, my mother wouldn't care about me going outside as long as I was home before sunset and cleaned myself up afterwards. There was no bitter disappointment to compliment the lack of surprise, only the cheerful ecstasy of being able to escape into nature for a while.

"Then why ask?" The question may have sounded snappy from someone else, but Akaza wasn't really like other people. Yes, he's stubborn beyond belief, but he's not malicious. Not to me, anyway.

Father may have told you something different, though.

"Dunno," I shrugged, leaving the topic there. He hummed passively, going back to doing whatever he was doing. Speaking of...

Sometimes I even surprised myself with how quickly I could leap to my feet. This was one of those times, even in the moment of sheer boredom when looking for something- anything- to do rather than mope around all day and just listen to the sound of the rain's gentle tapping rather than act like a child once again.

"Hey, Akaza?" Rocking on one's heels was harder than I'd thought, especially when trying to converse with someone. Countless times, I almost rocked too far both front and back, nearly toppling over and probably breaking something from the little that we have.

From his seated position on the floor, Akaza looked up at me through his- very oddly coloured- eyelashes. Life was so unfair- why couldn't I have been given eyelashes like that?! Though maybe I'd pass on the colour, thanks. Pink probably wasn't very flattering without pink hair like Akaza's. Wait!

Was Akaza born with pink hair?

Now that I thought about it, I'd never heard that name before I met him. Either it was super rare or completely made up. Or I just didn't go and meet many people. All three were so plausible...

"Yes?" He'd asked, and it was then that I had to make a decision: what question to ask first? Depending on which one I chose first could dictate whether I got to ask any more, which I desperately wanted to do. When I wasn't talking to him, I wasn't talking to anyone. And when I wasn't talking to anyone, I was doing very little else. Akaza wouldn't even teach me his super cool fighting moves, which was probably the most disappointing at all. He said it was because I was a girl, which is so unfair! So many girls out there get to fight, or even just walk outside in the rain when they want! Life is so cruel!

Ah, I've been rambling in my head again, haven't I?

It was easy to tell when that was the case, as even though he tried his absolute best to be patient with me, he couldn't always succeed. And from the way his eyebrows were creasing, I was very quickly running out of time.

"Whatcha doing?" I didn't want to risk both irritating him with what he called 'stupid' questions (they aren't stupid in the slightest, Akaza, you jerk!) and wearing down his patience. A look of confusion crossed his face for a moment- surely he knows that wasn't what I decided on asking after all that time! He always seemed to know what I was doing and thinking. One night I had decided to sneak out, only to open the door, very stealthily, to find Akaza right outside and staring right at me. It was safe to say I didn't leave my room for a while after that. In the middle of the night in complete darkness, it was terrifying to see such unnaturally coloured eyes staring straight at you, wasn't it?

"Drinking tea." Oh, so he was. How did I not notice that before? Why did I even ask when I could just look right in front of me, where the answer was plain as day.

I couldn't help the familiar curl of my lip though as I came face-to-face with the type of tea he was drinking. My worst, most powerful and deadly enemy.

Green tea.

Just when I was about to ask for some tea too! Just when I thought that I'd like some tea for a change, he goes and makes and drinks green tea! Why has God forsaken me like this?

"What?" What?

Oh, he's talking to me. And staring at me rather expectantly, questioningly. Was there something on my face? Not likely, as he probably would've told me by now. Had I been staring the whole time then?

Ah. That was probably it. How didn't I realise such a thing?!

I really wanted to ask, but wasn't sure how to word it or even whether or not to ask at all! But time waits for no one, and so I decided to take the plunge anyways, rather than stand here wasting time like usual, "Do we have any roasted green tea?"

By roasting the green tea, its sins could be cleansed into a decent tasting drink. That was the only form of green tea that was acceptable to drink in my eyes. And if something was acceptable in my eyes then the whole of society should accept it also! Even Akaza, as he sits there drinking a demon's choice of drink. Disgraceful!

He furrowed his eyebrows slightly to form an apologetic expression, "No, sorry. I can go get some tonight, though."

"I can go!" The words flew before I could even catch them and think about what I was about to say, before I could shove them down before they surfaced and replace them with a 'it's okay, don't worry about it'. It was safe to say that it didn't seem to please him.

His eyebrows furrowed further, though the apologetic expression was wiped off his face for one of disapproval instead. "We've been over this, you're-"

"-not allowed to leave the house because demons may attack you, I know!" At the time, I didn't even recognise that I was raising my voice, something I'd never done with him before. But at the time, so many emotions were stirring and clashing, fighting over which one would finally tear me apart. I loved Akaza, I truly did. He was always there for me, even when Father disappeared into the night and Mother turned me out, screaming that it was all my fault. Before and after that, he held his arms open and brushed through my hair as I cried. So, surely, it was ungrateful and bratty of me to act like this, right? It was- I knew it was! But I couldn't help it; my mouth continued to run on autopilot, "I know all that! But a demon's never attacked me, Mother or Father before. And back then we lived in the middle of nowhere, where a demon could kill us all before we could do anything about it! Besides, I can go while it's light out, because demons don't go out in the sun."

That's what Mother and Father had told me anyway, as to why I could go out in the daytime but not in the night. The forest was like the night during the day at times anyway, though, with how tall both the trees and their shadows were.

Then again, Akaza didn't go out in the sun either. I'd never really paid it much thought, for out of all his traits that one seemed the least odd. I mean, come on! He has pink hair, blue sclera and skin so pale that it almost wouldn't surprise me if he turned to me one day and confessed to having died over a hundred years ago! What about that isn't as weird as maybe not liking the sun?

"Demons aren't the only thing you should fear." With such a tone of voice, I felt my nerves tense in apprehension and fear. Each word was as if laced with venom as he spat them out. I could feel my hands begin to tremble as I clenched them by my sides, attempting to suppress the shaking. It's fine, it's all fine! Akaza wouldn't hurt me, I'm like his little sister, right? Even if that wasn't the case, he says he doesn't fight women, so why would he lash out at me?

As he moved, I barely restrained myself from flinching. However I couldn't stop my eyelids reflexively slamming shut, heartbeat drumming even louder in my chest and blood pounding in my ears. When I opened them again, which was a few moments after, I found that he'd only moved to drink some of his tea.

I was being silly again, wasn't I? I should know by now that Akaza won't hurt me. He's had many chances to, and even more reasons. Especially when I first arrived.

"Humans can be more dangerous than even demons." After finishing off his point, he beckoned.

I suppose there was truth in his words. Quite a bit when I thought about what he'd said further.

I answered, moving towards him without hesitance nor complaint.

When I stood right next to him, I knelt down beside him. He reached for the side of my head furthest away from him and coaxed it onto his shoulder. It would have been uncomfortable had he not been taller than I, leading to my neck not being strained as much. The only real issue I would have pointed out is how cold his shoulder was. The first time I'd noticed that I'd flung myself into a panic to try and start a fire, barely listening when he tried to reassure me until he'd gotten frustrated.

Blue fingers attached to pale hands ran themselves gently through my hair. At first it'd been a complete surprise at how gentle someone so muscular and (at times) intimidating could be, but by now I was very much used to it. Any surprise had been long worn out after countless days of this routine.

I think Mother had done it before Akaza, and had stopped after Father disappeared. It was barely a couple of hours later that she left to search for him, returning soon after with sorrow in her eyes. I hadn't understood it at the time, as it had been a long time ago, but it was definitely sadness. The type of sadness I'd see in Akaza's eyes at times when he helped me with chores around the house, in brief glimpses when he thought I wasn't looking. They must have had something in common then, so why couldn't they have gotten along? Maybe then the misery in her eyes wouldn't have changed to such malice, and she wouldn't have locked me out. Maybe then she could have lived with me and Akaza now, and all three of us could have found Father and been a big happy family.

I felt my muscles relaxing, becoming less tense by each passing second. Akaza's touch often did that with how relaxing it was, how easy it was to fall into the rhythm that he created each time he did this. Even easier was the habit of falling asleep at some point while he did so.

So that was what I did.

I dreamt of first meeting the pale, pink-haired man, with his blue lines that seemed to terrify me more than how he used to loom over me. Of Father's rage when he found out, how he'd gotten angry and refused to let me or Mother leave the house. How one day he went to the village for food for us all and never came back. This time Mother let the pink-haired man into the house with warm welcomes, asking him to join us in our quest to look for Father. He agreed, and off we went through the snowy forest surrounding our home. It wasn't much of a quest, though, as we stopped when finding some pinkish, bloody mass in the centre of a clearing. It was gross, and a bit sad too. Mother seemed to agree. It's always sad when an animal dies, even if it's to feed another. Though it was the first time that I found out animals wore clothes.

I'd have to tell Father when we found him, especially since this one seemed to wear a kimono just like his.

"Hey, Akaza?" I'd asked, just a bit after waking up from that dream. It was a strange dream, one that I remembered few details of. 

He was there when I awoke from my nap, as usual. It was nice of him to wait next to me when I slept; he didn't have to waste his time doing that, when he could be...

... uh...

training? Is that all that Akaza does that I can think of? Or drink green tea like some sort of heathen, but still. I wonder if he was actually a really cool painter or something. Maybe I should ask him that one day, amongst the pile of everything else I wanted to ask.

"What is it?" His voice was calm and even, as per usual.

"Do you ever dream?" It was fleeting curiosity that led me to ask this question, rather than more important ones that I could ask in order to get to know him better.

The question seemed to catch him off-guard for a moment, as it took him a moment to respond with a tone just as surprised, "I don't know?"

"You don't know?" I repeated, confused by this. How can you not know if you have dreams or not?

"I may do, but I don't remember them."

I nodded, humming in thought as I did so.

"Why, did you have a dream?" He asked. Once more, I nodded. He probably wanted to ask what about, but I bombarded him with another question before he could:

"Do animals wear clothes?"

This, once more, seemed to surprise him. Maybe he didn't know. Before the dream I thought that I'd known that they didn't, but maybe it was a situation that only the rich animals wore clothes. Rich animals probably wouldn't wander in the woods near my house, after all, for that is where the common animals linger.

When I glanced over to him, he looked troubled, as if debating on how to answer this question. Just as I was about to speak up, he seemed to settle on an answer.

"Yes. And they are the most dangerous."

A bit confused, I merely nodded. It didn't really sound right at first, but I supposed that clothing may give them more protection for fights. Maybe they fight humans and steal their clothes to prove their worth. If anything, the more I thought, the more silly it seemed to get.

But if Akaza said it, it had to be right. That's why he doesn't want me leaving the house, so I don't get lost like Father, or be killed like that animal. Akaza knew what was best, after all.

[unicyclehippo]

"Protection" for consecuted au? (:

The assassins had been caught long before they reached her chambers. A human woman, dark hair long around a moon-blessed face, pale and round and full. She would look lovely - sweet, even - if not for the look of absolute hatred in those eyes. 

‘You know who I am.’

It is not a question. 

‘Yes,’ the assassin spits. She lunges forward, strains against the silver-link chains that hold her in place. ‘Empress bitch.’

Leylas sits back in her throne. Casts a look over the half court that is assembled - half to see who is here to witness this, half to see how the woman deals with boredom as reaction to her vitriol. She pauses a moment on the dark-skinned human who leans so arrogantly against Den Druvkai’s throne - empty for the past few years, it is nonetheless not the place for the human who still refuses amnesis.

‘Consider me appalled,’ Leylas intones, tone flat with boredom. ‘What was your purpose here? To kill me?’

‘Yes.’

She considers handing her over to the Taskhand right then and there but notices Beauregard - always notices her - and the way the woman stiffens, eyes narrowed to keen attention. Blue eyes lift to hers and Leylas arches a brow.

Lying, Beauregard mouths. 

‘Liars are not kindly treated in the Dungeon of Penance. If there is something you wish to say, you can do so now. Or,’ Leylas moves her staff from one hand to the other as she shifts an inch forward on her throne and leans forward. From the momentary flicker of fear in the would-be-assassin’s eyes - and the look of veiled admiration in Beauregard’s that she has never in any life been able to hide well - she knows she cuts an intimidating figure. ‘My Shadowhand can pull it from you, along with your tongue when you are dead. Choose!’

The assassin grins. Blood stains between her teeth, drips down over her lips and down her jaw, splatters against the steps. She has done something to herself, Leylas realises in the same moment the guards do, something that is working fast to kill her, bleed her out right here in the Bastion, right at her feet. Leylas snarls, pushes to standing - only to stop at the assassin’s croaked words.

‘We know about her,’ the woman hisses in Undercommon, too harsh to ever pass for a native of Rosohna, each word drenched in hatred. ‘We know about your wife. An Empire girl. A human. Thought you hated our kind,’ she cackles.

Leylas has no retort. No answer. She stares down into eyes that begin to bleed, and has no retaliation to this. On the outskirts of her fixed attention, hands move - her clerics hurry to stem the bleeding, fix what has been hurt. Leylas pays them no mind. They’re too late. This woman is dying. Why is she tell her this? It’s certainly not a warning. A bluff? 

‘So be it,’ Leylas says. She doesn’t shrug - such a gesture does not befit the Bright Queen - but merely tilts her head dismissively. It is sweet, to see all the rage and the bitterness and the disappointment in the assassin’s eyes as she dies, thinking that Leylas cares not a bit for what she said. 

The pool of red has spread. It drips, in the silence of the court, down step after step, plinking in weighty droplets in a slow-moving cascade. It has soaked her boots and the hem of her cloak, Leylas notes as she glowers down at the dead woman. 

‘Your Majesty?’

‘Taskhand.’

‘What -’

‘Have the Grave Wardens call her back. Interrogate her if they can. Then dispose of her.’ Leylas lifts a finger when the Taskhand begins to turn away. He pauses. ‘Carefully.’

‘Your will, umavi.’

‘And Nozir?’

‘Majesty?’

Leylas lifts her eyes finally to where Beauregard had been last - leant against the throne. She isn’t surprised to find that the woman is bent over the would-be-assassin now, less than four feet out of Leylas’s reach. Leylas flicks her eyes to Nozir, nods meaningfully.

He has no love for humans; has lost a love and a life of his own to the Empire and their consuming greed. He nods back to her anyway, not far off a bow, and departs to alert the Grave Wardens of their expected guest. 

‘What was that about?’

Beauregard. Of course she would not have missed the exchange. 

‘Taskhand Nozir is arranging for the interrogation of -’

‘After that.’ Beauregard has the nerve to cut her off. ‘The super secret nod.’

Leylas nods to the clerics, who have given up their attempts at bringing the assassin back by means short of a resurrection, and to the guards who lift and carry the body and its chains away. 

‘I’m just going to follow you,’ Beauregard warns her when Leylas turns toward her antechamber, and despite the scene they had just witness, she grins when Leylas levels a stern look her way. 

‘Of course you will.’

Beauregard follows her into the antechamber. Steps right up behind her and dares to lift the mantle of her cloak from her shoulders without asking, without warning. Leylas doesn’t flinch. It may look like a flinch to the other woman, it must because Beauregard gentles, unties the binds with careful, slow fingers, shows her motions long before she follows through on them. 

It is not a flinch. 

There was a moment when Beauregard was close that Leylas wanted nothing more than to take her in her arms and pull her close; there was a moment when that would have been allowed, would have been expected. There was a moment when the removal of her cloak would have been nothing but a lingering, putting off the embrace because she could, because she enjoyed pushing Leylas’s buttons. But this version of her doesn’t know these things, this version of her hasn’t experienced the way a dozen lifetimes of love can roar through her, burn every other thought out of her mind. And so when Leylas moved to embrace her without thought, she came up against her own control - forced herself to stop. 

Beauregard drapes the stained cloak over the barren desk. 

‘I know a way of getting stains out of stuff.’ She touches the soft white, grimaces. ‘I can give it a go, if you want.’

Leylas remains perfectly still save for dark eyes that track the woman across the room. ‘Taskhand Nozir will assign a guard for you and for your friends while you are in Rosohna.’

‘You’ll need a whole tub of vinegar probably,’ Beauregard continues as though she hadn’t heard. ‘Cold water. Then the harshest soap around, the kind that lathers.’

‘You will not try to dodge the guard or leave them behind.’

‘I will.’

‘You will not,’ Leylas snaps, and she feels something click in her jaw when she clenches her mouth shut hard at the sheer obstinance on Beauregard’s face. ‘This is for your protection - ‘

‘We’re on the Empire’s shit list already. We can handle -’

‘You are not yet a target for being the Queen’s Consort!’

‘Mighty big assumption there.’

‘They won’t care if you have been through amnesis. They won’t care if you remember, Beauregard - ’

‘It’s Beau,’ she snaps, finally dropping the half-amused, half-challenging expression. ‘Beau. Not fucking Beauregard.’

Leylas lets a harsh breath out her nose. ‘Beau,’ she agrees. Feels the familiarity of the name prickle over her tongue - she’s not allowed this, not yet, she can’t have this until Beau gives it to her, she doesn’t want it if she doesn’t get more later - and quashes the flurry of questions that rise in her mind about this woman, her dislike for her name, everything that Leylas has missed of this life that she desperately wishes to know. ‘They won’t care if you accept who you were. They don’t care about you.’

‘Seems familiar,’ Beau grumbles.

‘They care about how I feel for you. And you must understand - they will do anything they can to harm me. If you walk unguarded, you make yourself a target. With a bow atop your head.’

‘Nah. The bo’s on my back,’ she laughs, gratingly, harsh, and so obviously amused with her own joke that Leylas squeezes her eyes shut and hates the tiny smile that pushes up one corner of her mouth. ‘I don’t need the protection. We don’t need it.’

‘Beau -’

‘But fine. I’ll take ‘em now.’

Leylas blinks her eyes open, surprised. ‘What?’

‘I said I’ll take ‘em. I’m not stupid,’ Beau tells her forcefully. ‘I understand. You make a good point.’

‘I am the Queen.’

‘What’s a Queen without her Captain?’ 

‘Sad.’

Beau blinks. Drops her gaze to the floor. She clears her throat, pulls the conversation back to safer ground. ‘I get it. I’m a target if anyone knows. If.’

‘We can’t risk -’

‘That they didn’t get word out somehow,’ Beau agrees with a jerk of her head. ‘Yeah. I figured.’ She drags a hand through her hair, the other propped on her hip. 

It’s such a purposeful show, her posture, seemingly so lazy, so arrogantly open as if in challenge for someone to try and strike her, but Leylas can read the readiness in every line of her. 

How very different she is from her past lives. How very similar. 

‘We’ll talk about it. Me and the Nein.’

‘That is...all that I can ask of you. And that you stay vigilant.’

‘Always.’

‘Very well.’

Beau is silent a moment. Then, ‘You want me to clean this cloak for you or what?’

Leylas frowns. Waves a hand. The red dries to brown and flakes into nothing, sifts into the air and away from the cloak, leaving it as pristine as before. The other woman looks impressed - and some other expression Leylas can’t quite place. 

‘Right. That’s a no.’ Beau gives her an awkward nod - not the slightest attempt at a bow, so arrogant this life is - and steps out from the antechamber without a look back. There is the shift of metal on stone as guards fall into step beside her, which fade as Beau takes her leave. 

Leylas wipes at her face when the door is closed. Ice cold sweat has beaded just at her hairline and she dabs it away. The urge to follow, the urge to see that Beau makes it back to her house safe - the urge to keep her here, at Leylas’s side, in her chambers, to not let her leave the Bastion at all - is intense, strangles her throat until her breath comes shallow and sharp, stabs into her lungs. She twists, half-collapses with braced arms against the desk and the soft cloak Beau had carried with such admiration. Digs her fingers into it and breathes. Again. And again until the moment passes. 

She will have Nozir double the scrying upon the guest house. And invite Beau - and her Mighty Nein - to the Bastion in the morning to discuss matters. Not just to assure herself of Beau’s continued existence. 

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 17

IN THIS EPISODE OF CRYING CAT GALLERY:

“Nice?” Cinder laughed under her breath once, and returned to examining her threads. “Oh, come on, Glynda. Favor isn’t in my vocabulary, remember? It’s just a shame about your cape. The emblem looked good, and your new outfit would look much better with it. That’s all.”

CINDER FALL IS REALLY BAD AT NOT BEING GAY ON MAIN

we’re bacc baby B) let’s hop right in

When Glynda awoke from her dream of being consumed,

alright calm down we’ve literally JUST started we’ve literally JUST woken up can we chill Out,

“Cinder?” she yawned, surveying the room.

sneak peek of that Sweet Domestic Life we dream of once this enemies-to-lovers malarkey reaches the ‘lovers’ bit but no we’re just surrounded by enemies. two of them being the writers!

Still, she couldn’t go wandering around Cinder’s apartment in only her underwear, but rooting through the drawers and closet didn’t seem— 

STEAL HER CLOTHES BABY!!!! PRACTICALLY MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The clothes didn’t seem Cinder’s size or style; they were casual and soft, a black t-shirt and steel-gray sweatpants.

okay but the idea of cinder getting up and being like ‘do i have ANYTHING this Unit of a woman will fit into’ and like actually having to think abt it and then folding em up and leaving em there like ‘hope she finds em okay’????? peak. absolutely peak. shes so gay but does she know it? no,

The fabric had enough give to make it work, even if only barely, and she looked in the mirror to see the loungewear looking more like tight athletic wear. Funny that.

kc and diesel envisioning this: oh yes. oh YES. ohhohughohguhghuhu yessssssssss--

She had—trusted? Been trusted? She had told Cinder fragile little things, and had heard similarly earnest words in return. It had been strange. Nice.

i love glynda like. feeling out of the edges of her own comfort and Pleasant Feelings with this almost-wariness? like every word she uses to describe it just Edges a little closer to Softness but she has to taste the word first to see if it fits. her narration is SO fun 2 read yall what the shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit

This was Cinder’s house. It wasn’t just any house. These were Cinder’s belongings, Cinder’s resting places, and she was wandering around without Cinder.

Voyeuristic was putting it mildly. Glynda needed to find Cinder, fast.

HJGDKJGHDFSSDF GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! glynda just. losing it at such LITTLE THINGS is so goddamn funny jesus christ. this is cinders house!!! her THINGS!!! fuck she NAPS IN HERE. SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

god i love how soft this is. i know exactly why this is happening and i know exactly how [REDACTED], but i’m living for this moment. living IN it.

Spread out on the table was a wanted poster with a mugshot of Cinder on it, defaced with black permanent marker and crease marks.

cinder: yeah they didnt get the eyebrows sharp enough and im mad abt it

“Well, your clothes are in the wash.” Cinder said, turning around, coffee in hand. It was so…domestic. “It would help if you had more than one set.”

shouting from a distance: you two should get MARRIED

“You’ve been wearing the same dress the entire time I’ve known you.”

look at these lil JABS... the JESTS... the JOQUES... i cant believe theyve been married 10 years already. im also deeply enjoying how very indulgent this section is. I Am Seeing,

Glynda scoffed, and when Cinder reached for the sugar on the counter, she gave it a subtle nudge with her Semblance. It slid out of Cinder’s reach.

JESUS CHRIST LOOK AT THIS WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! soulmates.

Cinder shrugged, still looking elsewhere. “Mercury thought it was funny.”

“Mercury?”

cinder: my son and BOY. and, one day, yr son and boy, tho he won’t take it lying down.

Cinder scoffed. “You just don’t appreciate my good tastes.”

i feel like the evidence is truly stacking up to very much prove this statement wrong but u kno what lets let her figure that one out for herself

“A souvenir from the brats,” she said. “And a letter excusing the mess they made of the place.”

KIDS KIDS KIDS KIDS

She said, “I just didn’t know you had kids.”

KIDS KIDS KIDS KIDS KIDS

“It’s fine,” said Cinder tersely, but not harshly. “It isn’t wise to advertise in my business, so keep it to yourself.”

KIDS KIDS KIDS KIDS KIDS KIDS KIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOD YES that little like... indirect admittance that em and merc r basically her own kids is a fucking BLESSING from ON HIGH are you SEEING THIS SHIT????????????? we have been fed today. my crops r watered and my lambs bouncing over the green fields as we feast. what a moment. wow. what a chapter.

When Cinder finally finished hers and rose to get another cup, Glynda allowed some of her thoughts to solidify. She said, “I want new clothes.”

as a side note, i think it rly shows the strength of the writing that the feeling of the narrative can change so much, esp when u take into consideration that we jump between the points of view of TWO characters? like with cinder we’ve gone from sheer fury to gruesome sickness, and with glynda we’ve gone from Complete Dissociation to this gentle and soft morning and you can feel it absolutely fluffing up in every word! still love how good the writing in this fic is its NUTS

Cinder shrugged. Her usual clothes were still in the wash; right now, she was wearing high-waisted black pants and a loose top tucked in.

diesel i want you to know im thinking abt what u said abt the high-waisted pants mods in sims 4 and im giggling

The necklace with Glynda’s earring hung from her throat.

i didnt mention it before but this is the... second time this chapter its been explicitly mentioned? and i know we could be like ‘ah the MEANING’ but honestly im like glynda r u rly not over the bobbies y

“You aren’t dead in there, are you?” came Cinder’s voice.

“No.”

“Well. At this pace, I will be before we get out of here.”

cinder, who probably once spent 7+ hours choosing an outfit: look its only cool if i do it, dipshit,

Unsnapping the lone earring left to her, she brought it to her collar and fixed it there, under the clasped button to dangle just over her sternum.

When she stepped out of the changing room, Cinder looked up. A slow dawn of interest eclipsed the boredom on her face. Glynda stood very still as her gaze flowed up and down again, pausing over the earring.

Cinder touched the matching one hanging from her own neck, almost in surprise. She cleared her throat. Her tone was very deliberately mocking: “Cute.”

OOOOOOOOOOOH MY GOD are we for SERIOUS right now??? jesus christ. jesus christ. we’ve moved on past married now this is ride-or-die shit right here what the FUCK. jesus CHRIST. theres- i- i have THOUGHTS on this matter that are spoilery and so i will SIT ON THIS EGG but HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLY SHIT

“Nothing,” Cinder said, smoothing her expression into something unreadable. “I was just thinking—nevermind.” 

no, no, go on, speak yr mind, please do, because if u were abt to offer to embroider that shit then PLEASE say it aloud for the audience at home

“If I was a cop, you’d already be in jail.”

“You’re welcome to try to take me in, darling.”

im sure its obvious but im BESIDE myself @ this flirting. im losing it. this is SUCH a treat and i KNOW that [REDACTED] [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] but AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“That’s because of your—” Cinder was already gone. Glynda pressed her lips together, but watched her go. Rolling her eyes, she finished, “—Grimm tattoos.”

Whatever. She could gloat about figuring it out later.

/CHOKES

WHAT

@kc and diesel: CALL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT THE FUCK

okay okay. wait. okay. wait. theres. wait. okay. i cant. am i safe to say anything. probably not. so. im not gonna. but. you WILL be seeing me in dms, friends,

okay okay im moving on im gonna. keep going. okay. okay. im going. (but i will be in dms)

there was a brief discussion of dinner: namely, that neither of them wanted to make it.

oh god why is this me

“Give me your new cape.”

“What?”

Finally looking up, Cinder said, “Your cape. Let me have it, and I’ll put your emblem on it.”

THANK YOU MA’AM AND THANK YOU FOR READING THE FIC HAS ENDED ITS ALL OVER WITH!!!!!! WE DID IT!!!!!!! WE RODE THIS WHOLE TRAIN TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!!! UNFORTUNATELY IF ONLY IT WERE SO EASY.

Glynda ignored it for the time being and sent the vector of her emblem to Cinder.

i deeply love the idea of all hunters and huntresses carrying a vector of their emblem JUST IN CASE,,, SMTHNG HAPPENS,,, its right alongside the list of their next of kin and their will and testament,

Cinder Fall was a name built on Dust and money and extravagant demonstrations.

But Cinder Fall was also a woman with a family. A home. A favorite blend of coffee.

this is absolutely kicking me in the dick for reasons i cant say but also for reasons of SNOFT because oh my god. this is. like. this is why i rly vibe w. cinder in this fic and is also like one of my favourite characterisations of cinder of ALL TIME (which is why all my fav cinder fics typically have it as a Theme). shes SO good and SO dimensional and i just. god. GOD. i LOVE HER!!!!!!!!! ID DIE FOR HER!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA CINDER FALL IS MY ANGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL

It felt like being told a secret, like being told a thousand secrets, and not knowing what to do with them. All she could do was hold them in her palms, delicate as she could, trying not to break anything.

GIMME ARMS TO PRAY WITH INSTEAD OF ONES THAT HOLD TOO TIGHTLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /goes apeshit

And because of that, Glynda asked, “Do you have any more stories?”

Without looking up, Cinder drawled, “About Witches?”

“Or dragons.”

Gold flickered her way.

👈😳👈

“They’d already been built by the Witches that came before her,” Cinder replied. “But she’d been a headmaster at one of them, and a teacher before that.”

Something in Glynda’s chest gleamed.

lore lore lore lore LORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lets GET THAT LORE as i peer blearily thru tears,

“...You haven’t just been pretending not to remember things, have you?”

firstly: called out lmao JHGSDFKJHGFSD and SECONDLY:

“The moon?” Cinder made a face. “I’m not sure if it’s that literal. Your soul is powerful, but it’s not a physical thing. Besides, the moon is…”

“Broken,” Glynda finished for her.

“Yeah.”

hm what a fascinating thing hm how interesting hm hm HMMMM 👈🤔👈

Even as they ate, they both seemed lost in their own heads, but somehow, to Glynda, it seemed perfectly clear that both of them were wondering the same thing.

wait glynda. hey glynda. did u uh. ever. did u uh. text winter back or w

WE DID IT CHAPTER 17!!!!!!!!!!! this was a Lot (4,500 words? yall better be careful before those 10k chapters return to Haunt Us) and was also, a Lot. holy shit. theres. i. id make a spoiler edition but tbh its just the SAME SPOILER thats like. rly driving this chapter. i know what its for. i know it. i feel it. dont trust winter more like dont trust the writers

ANYWAY I LOOK FORWARD (?) EAGERLY (???) to chapter 18, unsure when the vibes will turn rancid for the worse. when. honey. theres a big storm coming.

[ofelvie]

joe keery. cis male. he/him.  ／  elvie croft just pulled up blasting spooky boy by danny gonzalez  — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old youtuber, i’ve heard they’re really scatterbrained, but that they make up for it by being so loyal. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say 80s horror, buckets of halloween candy, and blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there demons! *ba dum tss* my name is sam and i’ll be writing elvie, a brilliant harvard law graduate who threw away any shred of credibility he ever had in order to make silly videos on the internet. more info under the cut. feel free to message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊: elvin tupelo croft

𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘: el, elvie, the ghost guy

𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖓: salem, massachusetts 

𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍: october 31, 1995

𝖟𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈: scorpio

𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: demisexual

𝖔𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: lawyer youtuber

𝖕𝖔𝖘. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: loyal, open - minded, exuberant.

𝖓𝖊𝖌. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: scatterbrained, obstreperous, impulsive.

𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞: shawn spencer, psych ; fox mulder, the x files ; stiles stilinski, teen wolf.

ii. history

elvin tupelo “elvie” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). an only child, his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a store in town that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimiores, etc. fun fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that elvie is as well.

as it turns out, beneath of the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this...eccentric...environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston. 

he was five years old when he saw his first horror movie ( an apathetic teenage babysitter let him stay up long past his bedtime to watch nightmare on elm street ) and from that moment on he was HOOKED.

when he started school, two things about him became apparent: 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested, and it turns out that he has a through the roof genius level iq and he also has adhd, which he was put on a few different medications for until something finally seemed to work for him.

he could have been one of those child prodigies who finished high school at the age of ten and then college at the age of fourteen, BUT his parents decided that they didn’t want him to miss out on the experience of going through school with people his own age.

as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he…was picked on. mercilessly.

so, he didn’t really have any friends...............................at all.................................but he didn’t mind. he was perfectly content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.

he started his youtube channel when he was a teenager and it was…trash honestly. it was basically buzzfeed unsolved if buzzfeed unsolved consisted of one ( 1 ) dorky teenager yelling at the air in the middle of abandoned house at 3am, but it turned out that people found it entertaining. his first few videos were flops, but he would soon start amassing subscribers in the hundreds, then thousands, then hundreds of thousands.

so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. at the same time, his youtube channel was starting to gain momentum. his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and elvie, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he wanted to focus on his youtube channel, but his dad was absolutely not having it.

he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. elvie ignored them all and moved to los angeles so that he could finally focus on his youtube channel.

it’s been almost two years since he moved and he likes it in california!

iii. extras

his name is elvin but basically no one ever calls him that. his own parents don’t even particularly like the name. long story. most people call him elvie and some who are super close to him just call him el.

while he is the “ryan” aka the believer of his youtube series, he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat like ryan the poor guy. in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE SCARED OF ANYTHING, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.

has the most cartoonishly exaggerated boston accent that one could ever hope to hear, except he doesn’t seem to realize it at all. 

10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.

he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.

he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.

he is legally permitted to practice law in the states of massachusetts and california, so basically: he’s a lawyer! however, this is not at all common knowledge because...

most people don’t know how smart he actually is because he intentionally plays dumb and he’s really good at it. being high all the time and his natural chaotic energy is quite helpful in hiding his intelligence. he just doesn’t like to be seen as smart, so the whole once - brilliant law student thing? not common knowledge whatsoever. he tries not to mention the college he attended by name at all, but if he has to then he lies and says that he went to salem state.

and yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas that probably aren’t even allowed on campus named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever. 

he has slight Daddy Issues™. slight. when he was born, his dad was hoping that he would get a star athlete kid who would go on to follow in his footsteps and one day become a successful, respectable lawyer but instead he got…elvie. he’s never outright said that he’s disappointed but he didn’t need to. elvie’s a really difficult person to rattle but every time, without fail, he ends a phone call with his dad and he’s in a bad mood for the rest of the day. 

his car is this PIECE OF JUNK giant turquoise van that he painted to look like the mystery machine. her name is laurie strode.

even though he makes constant pop culture references about horror movies and the 80s, but outside of those areas he’s completely clueless about pop culture. like, he can recite the entire scripts of the shining and empire strikes back and ferris bueller’s day off word for word, but if someone tried to talk to him about the new post malone song or the latest marvel movie he would just stare blankly.

he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.

he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he's held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.

.he’s good at…A LOT of things because he’s a really fast learner. he can play the guitar, he can draw, he did drama in high school. he just has to watch someone do something once and then he can usually immediately do it himself. this skill doesn’t extend to physical activities such as sports, however. he’s terrible at those.

he’s basically a cartoon character

iv. wanted connections

friends

cousin  ( their grandparents would probably be from boston but otherwise anything really goes for this )

his weed dealer lmao

smoking buddies

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

has stolen his adderall

maybe someone who knows how smart he really is

exes and flings

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with these, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

[goingsllightlymad]

Baby It’s You - Part 3.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x reader, Brian May x reader

Summary: The year is 1981 and Roger Taylor is pretty sure he has made it. With the Game Tour stretching out before him and the band more successful than ever, he doesn’t think that anything can mess up the perfect picture that is his life. That is, until he receives a letter from an astrophysics PhD student studying abroad, and finds himself sucked into her world of secrets and mistaken identities. Roger Taylor is about to find out that his life is a lot more complicated than he ever thought.

Wordcount: 3507. 

Warnings: Okay so this one is Not Good. Look, I know, you know, we all know. Let’s give me a fucking break, okay? 

________________________________________________________________

You had been coming up the street, back to your apartment and the comfort of your bed, when the letter came. Leaving the library a little later than usual, you caught the evening post in front of you as you walked, the postman with his shiny bald head and neat uniform driving up beside you, stopping here and there to duck into buildings and empty out his bags. By the time you had got to your apartment block he was already in front of you, opening up the letter-boxes and sifting through his piles and piles of letters. One by one by one, the pile dwindling quickly until at last one went into your box, and then another minute and he was leaving, the front door banging shut behind him. Unlocking your box, you took out the letter, turned it over in your hand.

There was your name on the front, messily written in some strange handwriting that you did not recognise at all. The right apartment address, all the same. And then, in the very corner, the stamp of some hotel address, from where it had been sent. Dover. Why would you be getting a letter from an unknown sender in Dover? You locked up the letter-box and hurried up the stairs to your apartment. Opening the door, you found the apartment all but quiet. At eight thirty on a Friday night you really shouldn't have expected it to be, still you felt your heart sink at the crowds of people in the sitting room, draped all over the sofa and coffee table and spilling out into the kitchen and the bedrooms. You knew better than to try and go into your bedroom - you didn't want to know what you might walk into.

Turning on your heel, you backed out into the corridor, retraced your footsteps down the stairs and through the front door, out onto the street. The light was dimming quickly, the streetlamp on the corner turning on as the night drew in and the warm ebbed from the city that never slept. You were beginning to think you would not either. Under the streetlight there was a bus-stop which was really only a narrow bench and an awning, a poster of the bus-times plastered on the post of the streetlight. Sitting there, you took a deep breath and opened the envelope, closing your eyes and only opening them when you had unfolded the letter in your hands.

Dear (Y/N),

You read it all, and then read it through one more time when you were done, a little surprised and a little more amused. It seemed like a silly thing that you would do, and you might have laughed at yourself if you weren't outside, in public. That might be a bit weird, even by your measures. There was something about it that was so very strange, so very endearing. You felt all at once like you were doing something very secret and very wrong, a dirty secret or a love affair. You had never done this kind of thing before.

When you looked up from the page at last it was all but dark, the street deserted as the last of the students walking home from college had disappeared into the buildings along the way. There was a glow of lamplight from each window opened onto the street, the leaves of the trees painted an ethereal gold. All at once the night was beautiful, New York not so bad. All at once this little letter had made things so very complicated.

You knew this was the end of it. You had written, they had written back. No more to make of it, nothing else you had to say. You'd write to your boyfriend tonight, tell him what a foolish thing you'd done by mistake. By tomorrow morning you'd have forgotten about all of this entirely. Still there was that part of you that buzzed with questions they had left unanswered in one letter that was nowhere near enough. You could not be satisfied, and deep down you knew that this was never going to be only one letter.

Rubbing your tired eyes and standing from your bench, you walked a little way down the street, over to the park a few blocks over that you had coffee in sometimes. You needed to clear your head, you needed to come to your senses. Your head was filling up with thoughts you had never seen coming, never thought you'd have to deal with before, and the truth was you did not have the space. You needed your head for thought of space, for thoughts of astrophysics and houses and rent and employment and affording a plane ticket back to London in four months; not for random letters from strangers in Dover who asked you about your day more than anyone else had this past eight months. After all, it was just a letter. So why did this feel like something so much more?

You looked again at the letter in your hand, the words growing bigger and bigger in your mind until they wrapped around your throat, the insidious promise of something that no one knew that you. The adventure that you had dreamed of when you took girls to the observatory and looked above the line of their lips to the stars that flickered on the ceiling. Oh these letters, oh this person, who was the stars to you with every word they had written. You cursed the words they had not said.

Their questions in their letter - how could you just not answer. How cruel it must be to leave them so unsatisfied. Would that they cared enough to be unsatisfied for you. From the pond in the park, the pigeons rose up into the sky. You would write when you got home.

And then the chill of the night breeze, running its fingertips up your spine, whispering into your skin. The sting of reality creeping back in, and the letter felt heavy in your hand. Was it even any of your business? It had all been some bizarre mistake, all your own fault, and you had dealt with it. You promised yourself that you would have nothing to say, not when each night you passed the hall phone, knew you could not call Ben, your Ben, when there was not a thing that you could say. He always seemed so far away. The pigeons settled back onto the grass, the sound of wings beating the air fading away into the low hum of New York nights. There was a couple on the bench by the waterside; as you passed, you saw their hands together. It had been so long since anyone had held your hand. It had been so long since anyone had asked you about your day.

You wanted to reply. You wanted to know more. You wanted to talk to them again. You wanted to ask the, all those things that they had left unanswered in their letter, because they probably thought that you would leave it there. Strangers who had once had something that for a moment might have tied them together but made no sense anymore. And all the world could know that you should leave it all that way.

Don't reply, don't keep secrets. But:-

Don't you deserve to have this, just this once? One person, one secret. It wasn't like the world would end. It wasn't like you were cheating on anyone. The only person getting hurt was you.

You sank to your knees by the water's edge, took from your pocket the fountain pen and began to write. Writing on the back of their letter, sloppy but you were smiling. You wondered what they must think of you.

Dear Anon. ,

Won't you tell me your name at least? I feel I know so little about you, the poor stranger who now knows all my woes because they had the misfortune of being at the receiving end of my sheer idiocy. That being said, I think I have to agree. I should hate to leave it here too.

And there it was - the final seal. No turning back now. The only way to go was onwards, to do the things you should never do. What would Ben think of you now.

As for that "exciting life" of mine, I can very much assure you that that is entirely untrue. Astrophysics is lovely, but it's not exactly the kind of thing that keeps one going the way that music does. I think if I could do anything at all with my life, I would become a musician. At least that way I could get out of bloody university. Must be nice, all that stuff. I wonder...

Don't do a PhD, it's a lie. Doesn't teach you anything but how to hate something that you thought you could do forever. I love the stars, I love the theories, I love the things I'm learning, I just... I hate having to learn it all. You know what I mean? I should rather hope you didn't die of boredom. It might make our letters a little more strained, I should think. Thank you very much for your delightful vote of confidence in me, telling me that I'm "complaining". I can't quite tell whether to feel insulted or called out! Either way, I shall in turn rely  upon you for my glimpse of reality and whatever it is you do. There. I need you and you say that you need me. I think we have a (strange) arrangement. Still, it occurs to me yet again how unfair it is that you know so much of me, and I nothing at all about you.

Tell me who you are; or if not that, what you do. What keeps you up at night. What do you dream of? What dark secrets have you never told another soul that you must now tell to me, because it is not very likely that we shall meet randomly in the street. I want to know so much about you.

You really must not worry about me, my love. I shall sleep plenty when I am back on my home soil and out of this damn university. Even right now my roommates are holding another party. I know I really shouldn't blame them - it's Friday night, I get it, and I'm glad that they're having their fun, it's just not my scene. I don't know, I've just always been the sort of person to prefer the quiet evenings to the ones with so many other people around. I fear you'll never have met a person as horrifically introverted as me.

I hope you do not blame me for this, but I really must agree with your friend. You say that Ben is right about me, but your friend is not wrong about you either! We may both be hypocrites together, for it seems that you will not rest until I get some sleep, and I will not sleep until you get some rest. Checkmate, dear. I know for a fact that I should not listen to you, a stranger in Dover writing me one letter when a mistake of mine has inconvenienced him, still I think you know I always will. Your advice may be terrible indeed, still it cannot be any worse than my own.

Get some sleep. Take care of yourself. (My wonderful words of wisdom).

Are you away from home a lot? I should hate that. You are free to call me a terribly boring creature of habit (for that is exactly what I am), still I cannot bear to be away from my home; my cats; my bookcase. I won't lie, the books are most of it. I am a bit of a nerd. I must make myself content with all the stories you must have. All the wonderful places you have been; the people you have seen. I want to know everything about it. You must have the most incredible of lives.

New York is getting better now that I am learning to see it the way you do. The diners, the people, definitely the accent. I am particularly fond of the accent. I shouldn't laugh at my roommates, but that doesn't mean that I don't. It's just so very endearing! I wonder what is the sound of your voice. I love to read your words. I think I should love to hear you say them even more. Then at least it will not feel as though we are on opposite sides of the Earth.

I am afraid to say that tonight I cannot hear our beloved pigeon orgy while I am writing to you - as I have mentioned, I have been quite driven out of our apartment by the party that's positively raging there by now. You must not laugh at me when I tell you that I am writing to you from the park on the corner. I like to sit by the lake when I am thinking, and I suppose this means you make me thoughtful. I shall let you wonder whether I am thinking of you, my dear Anon, but then again you know I am. For now at least, you have quite fixed yourself into my brain. I could not not think of your letter if I tried.

I am sure that my pigeons are quite content, getting more action than I do. Not that I envy them. I mean, I envy them a little, but not... nevermind. Romance is quite definitely dead, I hate to say. At least, that is what I have found. Not that you should set much store by the pessimistic ramblings of a girl you shall never have the misfortune to meet. Still, love is not a luxury given to the lowly and working-class of us. We must reserve that right for the rich and the famous. The politicians and the rock-stars.

If I were larger than I am - smarter or prettier or simply somewhat interesting - I think that I could fall in love eternally. I think that I would love at first and every sight. I think that I could be the most hopeless of romantics that you would ever have known. I am only now wondering if that is a good thing, or something very bad.

You live on music - strangely that makes sense. You and I are just the same that way. "Your soul is made of music"... however can you say that you are not a poet or a writer or a philosopher or a god, and then say such things, so beautiful, that I think you write like no one ever will. Your soul may be made of music, but in your hands your soul bleeds through.

I wish that I could go along the concert of that band, but I do not have the strength to face the crowds they say will be there (or the money to spare for a ticket, but that doesn't sound half so impressive to say). But... I have listened to their music, the way everyone seems to want me to so much. I like them. Kind of. I do adore the singer, I mean. The guitarist seems a little over-confident, I have to say. Definitely a fan of the bassist (I do have a thing for good bassists). And the drummer... Oh, the drummer. I think he's quite fantastic. I've never really noticed the drums in a song before. I suppose we should just hope that this poor man never finds out that I think he's grand (I think he might find that a little bit weird)! I suppose it is this hopeless anxiousness of mine that's keeping me from going, nothing more, although I don't think they mind too much. It's not like they're ever going to know. I hope.

Ah, Lennon and McCartney. Unfortunately not two of the Beatles (that would indeed be intriguing of me, and would make my life a great deal more exciting, I should think), but my cats. If I had half the Beatles living in my apartment I'm sure you should be the first person I would tell, my dear stranger. There: another secret, and I do not even know your name. I feel as though I am at quite the disadvantage here.

How can you not have seen the Princess Bride? It is my absolute favourite - I always used to watch it with my father when I was little. "Sappy romance films"? It's a classic! True Love may be a myth, but it's the best thing to come of our miserable little lives. We can at least dream, or else we are but pointless. And don't tell me no one has ever made you feel this way! (I take it from your misplaced derision of 9-year-old girls that you are a man, which actually makes a lot of sense now). Romance is not made up, just hard to find. I'm sure someday you shall write to me and apologise, because then you'll have to admit how wrong you are about this. Someday.

God, don't remind me about the wedding. I can't stand the thought of it as it is. All those godawful dresses and the sitting around for the ceremony and everyone crying and old people I've never met before asking me when I'm going to get married too. I think I'm going to kill someone if they ask me when "my turn" is. I think you're meant to say Well Done with whatever, and Best Of Luck for whatever else. And then inevitably drink too much, hook up with someone questionable (which I can't even do because, as you have found out, I have my wonderful boyfriend there - sarcasm) and generally regret the whole affair. I am sure I shall be very much wanting of your enthusiasm. And whatever else you may give to me.

You mention your 'line of work' so much that I cannot help but speculate (I hope you will forgive me)... You travel much, are generally single, love music... an artist or a musician or an actor. Someone famous, someone very beautiful I am sure. Won't you tell me who you are?

Take comfort at least in the promise that you can never be 'forever alone' when I am likely to plague you with letters for as long as you respond. Although perhaps that is not the most comforting of thoughts.

Reply soon, or as soon 'as you wish',

(Y/N) x.

Your knees ached when you stood at last, your trouser-legs damp and grass-stained from the ground where you had knelt. There was a coldness in the park that you had not noticed before, and you pulled your coat closer around you to keep from shivering. The couples on the benches were drifting away, one by one, and you would soon be alone again. You signed the letter with your name and a little kiss that was nearly two, but two might have been too friendly and none might have been too aloof, at the bottom of the page where your words were cramped in a tight black tangle so as to make them all fit. You could have told him everything, if you had had the room. Slipping the note back into its envelope and folding it closed, you crossed out your address on the front and wrote the hotel's address again. You could only hope that it would get to him. You could only hope that he would read your words at all.

The postbox at the entrance to the park seemed further away than every day before, and the letter was heavy in your hand. You knew you shouldn't post it; you wanted to more than ever. In that moment all you could think about was everything, and everything was him. You dropped the letter into the letterbox and hurried away. No going back now; it was done.

At the apartment, the party was raging. More people than before were crowded in the living room, where your notes spilled over the coffee table around the champagne glasses and beer bottles. Tomorrow you would search for them, gather them up, resume the tedious life that you had left behind for that sweet hour or so alone with him. Tomorrow you would reenter the world, resume humanity, become an adult. Call your boyfriend.

Right now you pushed through the people, to the bedroom door down the hall where they would be already. People on your bed, kissing with the lights off. You turned them on, sent them out and locked the door. Tonight was for you, and tonight was for the boy who was half a world away. On the table by your bedside, a champagne bottle was opened, left behind; you took a long swallow, your hands around the neck, and let the night begin.

Taglist:

@rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives

[eldritchsurveys]

672.

When was the last time you let someone know you truly love him/her? >> Hm.

Do you complain when you are bored, or look for something to do? >> I might say that I’m bored, conversationally, if I’m not alone. But usually I just flop around and wait until my brain settles down. (Usually, boredom for me isn’t a lack of things to do, it’s just a kind of restlessness or anxiety that prevents me from doing anything or focusing on anything.)

Do other people's complaints ever get on your nerves? >> Sure.

Generally, what is your favorite ride at an amusement park? >> I remember liking roller coasters, but I haven’t been to an amusement park in a long time.

Who is your favorite 90's musical artist? >> I mean, a lot of the music I enjoy is from the nineties...

Do you think that music was better when your parents were young, or now? >> Music is just music. Some of it I like, some of it I don’t like, but every time period in the past century-plus has had its pop music that older people hate. I think it’s just more difficult to adapt to new music trends as one gets older, and one is more likely to experience nostalgia for the music they grew up with, and mistakenly assume that their nostalgia means that the music was obviously objectively better back then. There are some musical trends that I wish were still knocking around, sure, but there are some new trends that I love, too. People will always be around making music that I like, no matter what year it is.

How did you develop your specific taste in music? >> I mean, it wasn’t any effort on my part. I just like what I like; I assume it’s mostly subconscious.

If you drink coffee, how do you like it (with cream, black, etc)? >> Black.

Did your parents sign you up for things like piano lessons and ballet? >> He always signed me up for things I didn’t enjoy, and then wondered why I didn’t perform to his standards.

What is your favorite children's song? >> I don’t have one.

Is there a funny story about yourself that you like telling others? >> Probably, but I can’t remember it right now.

Are you good at telling jokes? >> No, I don’t have the memory for constructed jokes.

Are you uptight, or are you easy going? >> I’m neurotic about some things because of how I’m wired, and I’m pretty apathetic about other things for the same reason.

Other than gas, what do you frequently purchase at a gas station? >> I don’t regularly buy things at gas stations.

What is one concern you have about the present state of the world? >> Meh.

Ten years ago, did you think that this was how the world would turn out? >> I wasn’t thinking about how the world would turn out ten years from then.

Ever think you might be better off living in a different time period? >> No.

Do you drink regular or diet soda? >> If I’m going to drink soda, I’m going to drink regular soda.

What CDs would you take with you on a road trip? >> Thank god for Spotify.

Think of your favorite band? What album by them is your LEAST favorite? >> I don’t have a favourite band.

Have you seen your favorite band in concert? If so, how was it? >> I’ve seen live several bands I’ve called “favourite” in the past. They were all great shows.

Do you walk regularly? >> I don’t. Especially not in this season.

Did you take a Health class in high school? How was it? >> Yeah. I don’t know, I slept through most of it.

If you could have the answer to one question, what question would that be? >> ---

Do you like any bands from other countries? >> Sure, of course.

When was the last time you mailed a handwritten letter? >> Uh... middle school?

Do you still receive Christmas cards? >> Not unless I do a card exchange amongst my tumblr mutuals, which I did do one year. But executive dysfunction got in the way last season so I didn’t get around to it.

Do you know anyone who is really hard to please? >> I mean, maybe.

What gets you through the day? >> *shrug*

Do you have a Before Bed routine? >> Not really. I just make sure to take my pill at around 10p.

Describe your stance on organized religion? >> I don’t have a stance on it, really. I find some aspects of it fascinating, some aspects of it helpful, and other aspects of it harmful. Just like... anything, I guess? I’m considering conversion to a particular organised religion, but I’ve been spoiled by the sheer freedom of being unaffiliated and I’m not sure how willing I am to give that up.

Describe your stance on religion in general? >> I’m notoriously interested in and even passionate about religion in general, even when I don’t care to personally participate in it. It’s one of those things I’d consider majoring in if I was in any way inclined towards formal education.

If you found out your bf/gf was homosexual, how would you react? >> Whaaaaat? The woman that is always saying “I’m gay” at any given occasion (particularly when she sees other women) is not straight?????? News to me.

If you are homosexual, and you find out your bf/gf is straight, then what? >> I mean, that’s a situation I can’t really imagine being in.

Have you ever sung karaoke? What songs? Was it fun? >> I’ve sung at live-band karaoke... I’d say around 100, 150 times? I was pretty much a regular. My go-to songs included Smells Like Teen Spirit, Jeremy, and No One Knows. Oh, and The Trooper until I saw [fellow regular] Dorit do a belly-dance bit with a sword on her head during the solo. I think all of us regulars gave up on doing The Trooper after that, lmfao.

Do you study for big tests? >> ---

What makes you nervous? >> Oh, a few things, I guess.

Have you called anyone today? What did you talk about? >> No.

When was the last time you went bowling? >> The last time I was even in a bowling alley is when I was eighteen. The only reason I remember is because that was the last time I saw Thomas before he died. (That bowling alley isn’t even there anymore. Always thought a bowling alley in Port Authority was weird, anyway...)

Do you drive around the neighborhood to look at lights around Xmas? >> We usually just see them on regular drives. When I lived in the Pine Barrens as a preteen, it was nice because we lived by a four-mile-long lake, and you could always see the reflections of the lights across the lake in the water. Also, there was this one house that always went absolutely apeshit with the lights every year. I shudder to think of their electric bill.

Why are so many single people bitter on Valentine's Day? >> Because they’re lonely or have been hurt by exes or are unhappily aromantic, and don’t like being bombarded by hearts and romantic shit everywhere. It’s not rocket science, dude.

What holiday is a big deal for you? >> I mean, Christmas. I enjoy it and for once in my life I get to fully celebrate it.

What is one tradition you hate participating in? >> I don’t know, but whatever it is, I probably just refuse to participate in it period.

Have you ever been sledding? >> Nope.

Do you have acne? >> Not since high school.

Have you made a fool of yourself today? >> Not to my knowledge.

Is there someone you wish you could talk to, but you're too afraid? >> Not specifically. But in general, fear is the foundation of why I don’t open up to people.

Do you have a favorite cookie? >> I like lemon cookies...

When was the last time you did something for someone else? >> Neighbour left her key in her door and I knocked on the door to alert her to it.

Do you let other people choose the radio stations in your car? >> ---

Would you say that you are an accepting and openminded person? >> Sure.

Have you ever been convinced to try something you didn't want to do? >> Not if I really didn’t want to do it. I’ve been convinced to try things that I was on the fence about.

What happened? How did you feel about your choice? >> ---

Have you ever tried to influence someone else? >> I mean, sure, probably.

When was the last time you cheated--at anything? >> I don’t remember.

Do you play any online computer games? If so, what? >> Yeah. I play several MMOs (not at the same time, I usually alternate between them from month to month).

What food can you not seem to get enough of? >> Cheese and crackers, for some reason.

When you are mad at someone, how do you show them? >> I usually just don’t talk to them or don’t give any friendly social cues. Kind of freeze them out, I guess. I figure most people don’t care if I’m upset with them or not, so it doesn’t make any sense to tell them or have a conversation about it. That may be fallacious, but I... also haven’t been explicitly proven wrong yet, lol.

Do you like to think that you are better than other people? >> No.

When was the last time you felt you had a reality check? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever felt out of touch with reality? >> Sure, many times.

Have you ever been sick to the point of possibly dying? >> Nope.

Have you ever had a tooth pulled? >> Yes, because I can’t afford a root canal.

How long do you you usually chew a stick of gum? >> Not that long. The flavour only lasts like five minutes at best, after all, and once the flavour’s gone the gum starts to lose pliability.

Did you chew gum in school, even if it was against the rules? >> I don’t recall doing so.

Did you take a foreign language in school? >> I tried. I didn’t get very far because of changing schools all the time, being in the mental hospital all the time, and also that stupid fiasco where I got no credit for a whole year of Spanish I (I don’t remember why, but it was definitely some bullshit).

Did you attempt to make Honor Roll? Did you make it? >> I only made honour roll in elementary.

What was your favorite school project? >> That report I did about Jim Morrison. Or that project I did about the war against rock and roll, lol (you know, the Satanic Panic around metal music and all that noise; I basically got tired of being told I listened to “devil music” and decided to expose the ridiculousness of it in my final project).

Did you attend any school dances? >> I mean, I went to prom.

Were you in any after school clubs? >> I tried to be, but my father made me leave them because he didn’t approve of the kinds of clubs I wanted to be in (and I didn’t want to be in the kinds of clubs he approved of).

Was there any teacher that made life living hell for you? >> I definitely felt that way.

How about any student(s)? >> Some years, yes.

When was the last time you felt overwhelmed? >> I don’t remember. It’s a common occurrence so I don’t make much note of it when it happens.

Which parent are you more apt to go to if you're upset? >> ---

Do you have any coffee mugs with funny pictures/sayings? >> I have a mug with a cute cactus on it! But Sparrow has all the punny mugs (they’re all cat puns).

Describe your favorite t-shirt? >> ---

Describe something strange that you own? >> Hmm... not sure I own anything strange. Or maybe it’s just that nothing I own is strange to me.

What do you like to do on a friday night? >> Go to Cafe Boba for a weekly meetup group.

What do you like to do on a sunday night? >> Whatever.

Are monday's a drag for you? >> No more or less than any other day of the week.

Do you think graffiti is a valid form of artistic expression? >> Of course.

Do you know where the food you eat comes from? >> Of course not, I live in the US. It’s all a clusterfuck of obfuscation.

Do you ever worry about where the world will be in 20 years? >> No. My peers seem to have that covered.

Have you spent much time contemplating your death? >> Oh, definitely.

Do you know what you want your funeral to be like? >> I know that I want a home vigil (assuming I die when I’m older, after we’ve already bought an actual home). If I die, like, tomorrow or whatever, I guess people can do whatever they want funeral-wise because I’m not interested. Just bury me in a cardboard or pine box in the green section at that one cemetery near us, please. Not in a fucking thousand-dollar metal casket or whatever. Let me decay.

How often do you think dirty thoughts? >> I don’t know, often enough, I guess.

Can mere images turn you on? How about words? >> Images, sure. Words, if they come from Inworld, yeah...

Do you give a good back massage? >> No.

Do you think that feet are disgusting? >> I mean, not inherently. At least they don’t... secrete stuff. (I mean, besides sweat.)

Do you have a girlish scream? >> I don’t recall ever screaming, period.

When was the last time you screamed? >> ^

What is your political affiliation? >> I don’t have one, but I usually vote Democrat.

Are you registered to vote? >> Yeah.

Are you GOING to vote? >> *sigh* Yeah, guess I oughta.

Do you think you would enjoy living in college dorms? >> No. Nooooo no no no no.

Have you ever been to the YMCA? >> Yeah.

If you ditched school, where did you go? >> ---

Have you ever been offered drugs? What, and by who? >> I mean, by friends. Not by complete strangers the way D.A.R.E. insisted. (I mean, that probably does happen too, just not at all with the frequency one would expect...)

Are you afraid to walk places at night if you are alone? >> No.

What's in your school backpack? >> ---

Are you put off by overly social people? >> No. I’m easily exhausted by very extroverted, exuberant people, is all. Doesn’t mean I don’t like them as people.

What do you think of people who are shy? >> I don’t think anything of them, specifically. Some people are just shy. That’s fine.

[growingstronglikeahighgardenrose]

The Bear and the Maiden Fair

12 Days of Sanditon: Roaring Fire/ Sleep in heavenly peace

Pairing: Esther Denham/Lord Babington

Synopsis: It was the middle of Winter when someone knocked on Esther's cabin in the middle of the woods. The humans of the village had persecuted her for Witchcraft years ago, who would come looking for her? It turned out it wasn't a who, but rather a what: a bear, all black and brown and covered with hair. OR: the one in which Lord Babington is a cursed bear looking for shelter. Fairytale inspired on Rosered and Rosewhite.

Available on AO3

It were times like these when Esther’s need for company was at its highest.

When the wind was howling so loudly not even the sound of the enchanted violin and piano could drown it out.

When her house creaked louder than the roaring fire crackled.

It was her third year out here in the woods, and by now she’d gotten used to the sounds of the woods, the nights used to scare her to a point where she couldn’t sleep until she was utterly exhausted. She’d grown up with scary stories about the woods: monster, goblins, fairies, wild beasts and murderers were known to plague the woods. Though she’d managed to convince herself that half of those threats were fairytales, she knew that the beastly and human predators in the woods were very real. She’d encountered a murdered body, and she’d had to run away from a pack of wolves as well. The stories didn’t keep her up at night anymore, but those memories certainly did.

On a rational level, she knew not to fear. Her house, and the small garden around it, were protected with at least six spells. No humans could get past it. And no animals meaning harm could either. Her spells left enough room for innocent animals to come up to her house.

She liked seeing bunnies hop through her garden, even if they stole her slaw, and she once had a deer walk in during summer. The deer seemingly sensed that it had nothing to fear from her. It had been the first substantial living thing she’d held in years. Prior to that, she’d only hugged and stroked some mice and rabbits, and the chickens. She’d also taken care of a bird with a broken wing once, but birds were hyperactive creatures, they disagreed with her own nature.

Perhaps she should try venturing to the town border and catch a cat. She would love to have a permanent pet. A cat would suit her just right, she’d had one prior to living here.

Wonder if she’s still alive, poor thing was left to Edward’s care.

She took the ladle out of the cauldron filled with water, and poured some hot water in her empty mug. With a flick of her hands, the pot with tea herbs came floating towards her. She added a good amount of leaves to the hot water and sent the pot back to where it came from.

She’d always been a mediocre witch, a taint on the Denham line according to her aunt.

If she only knew. I bet I can do more now, than she ever could. I simply needed the practice. Nothing like absolute boredom to finally take the time to learn magic.

After Edward had ratted out her and Clara, so that he would be the only one receiving Lady Denham’s inheritance, she’d managed to free herself with her magic by sheer luck. Since witchcraft was forbidden, and she’d quite hated being one, she’d always supressed that side of her. But, as she was locked away awaiting her witch trial, the combination of the panic and the wish to live, she’d called on some kind of instinctive magic which had destroyed her restraints. She’d fled, taking all of Lady Denham’s books on witchcraft, and all the clothes she could carry.

She’d been walking through the woods for two days by the time she stumbled upon the old woodsman cabin, it hadn’t been inhabited in a decade and had been barred shut to protect it from rogues and animals. With the same instinctive magic, she managed to get the layers of wood shielding the door and windows away. The house was sturdy and the furniture had still been present.

After mastering a couple of practical spells, she’d returned to the town in the dead of night to steal more of her belongings and some practical necessities. But she tried to keep her visits to a minimum. With every visit she risked exposing herself.

She stared at her three meagre bookshelves. She’d read everything at least twice, and some even more than twenty times.

‘If only there was a spell to magically produce an interesting book.’

She eyed the periwinkle blue and wine bottle green book on the second shelf.

She felt like reading a tale set in Winter. ‘Andersen or Grimm?’

She’d taken to talking to herself out loud as a means to kill the silence. She’d never gone without talking for a day. She just couldn’t bear it. She sang as she cleaned, she hummed as she made dinner, she mumbled as she practiced the hand movements for spells and she cursed herself for screwing up certain spells. In many ways, life in the woods had killed her awkwardness and shyness. In the village she’d always been quiet, rarely talking, and rarely making a decision, she’d left it all to Edward. She didn’t feel the same inhibitions in the woods, she found she enjoyed talking and singing, and she’d made every decision ever since. Now of course, you could ask the question how much of her shyness had actually gone away, since she never interacted with another human being since, Esther asked herself the exact same question from time to time, but there was no doubt to the fact that she felt more comfortable in her own skin.

‘Too moody, Grimm it is’, she decided. With a move of her pinky and index finger, the book started floating towards her.

However, it was surrendered to the gravitational forces when a knock on the door startled Esther. The book collided with the wood log table, and sent her cup of tea toppling over.

Impossible.

Knock knock.

Esther rose slowly.

Was someone actually knocking on the door? Humans couldn’t get past the fence. She took the poke from the fire.

The sound returned.

  It sounded blunter than a knock. Like something soft and heavy bumping against it.

A wounded animal perhaps?

Mindful to stay away from the windows, she moved towards the door.

She waited for the sound, three inches removed from the door.

Something knocked against the door again.

Whatever produced the noise wasn’t about to give up.

‘Come on Esther, it speaks volumes that not a single person has managed to get to your door in these three years. It has to be an animal, and a well intending one at that. Have some faith in your own spells. Damn it, are you a Denham witch or not?’

She took a deep breath and reached for the handle, slowly turning it over and opening the door a couple of inches.

Nothing could have prepared her for what was on the other side.

She shrieked, slamming the door shut as fast as she could.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  A bear.

A very big,

very brown,

very tall bear.

The bear scratched against the door, making a pitiful sound.

She wasn’t going to start feeling guilty for keeping out bears now, was she? Having a deer in her house was one thing, but a bear?

The bear seemed to make a sound close to moaning, a deep, bearly moan that was.

‘It’s not going to harm you, it’s gotten past your defences. It isn’t even scratching your door. Come on, it’s probably hurt. You can always immobilize it with a spell if anything happens… it’s still a bear though… A bear caught in a blizzard.’

She looked outside the window. It had been snowing for three consecutive days. She couldn’t see the ground or even the green of the trees anymore. All was white. It was freezing. And this bear was out in that horrible snow storm.

‘Aren’t they supposed to hibernate? They’re not made for walking around in the snow.’

That was it. She wouldn’t allow some silly unfounded fear of hers to lead to the potential death of an animal. She was intended to be a friend to the animal kingdom.

She opened her door again.

The bear was still there.

‘Alright, come in but please don’t kill me’, she squeaked as she pulled the door open as far as it could go.

The bear came in. Its coat was completely covered with clumps of snow, and it had visible difficulty walking.

She closed the door and looked at the creature. It was bigger than any living thing she’d seen before, yet it still fit inside her small home. He was higher than a table, and longer than she, but not by much, a foot at most.

It had to be close to freezing to death, with all that snow caked in its fur. He was very lucky to stumble upon her house. She doubted he would’ve made it much farther, judging by how skinny he was and how slow his movements were.

She pushed aside the log table and her comfortable chair.

‘Come lie in front of the fireplace, so that the snow might melt.’

The bear all but collapsed near the fire, a last soft sound escaping from its mouth.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 She stared in shock as her house became silent again. Her instruments had stopped the second she heard his knocking, and now that the bear had fallen down, there was only the sound of the wind and the fire.

Had he died?

‘Bear? Bear?’ She gently pushed him with her foot. Its eyes blinked.

Alright, he was alive.

‘Let’s get you warmed up.’

She took her brush, and started bristling his fur. The clumps of snow had hardened into ice. It was hard to get out, but she was determined to get the cold clumps off his body.

As she worked on his fur, she found her heartbeat calming down. The initial sight of him had scared her, but her fear slowly melted as he lay there on her carpet like an oversized cat, undergoing her ministrations.

‘I think I’m getting it all out. I wonder if you’re warm enough though. I would offer a human some hot food or a hot drink but I doubt you’d be able to consume that.’

Of course, the bear couldn’t answer since it was a bear. So Esther was left frustrated as she tried to figure out the next step.

Deciding that staring at him until she found out what he needed wasn’t useful either, she picked up her empty cup of water, filled it again, and sat down in her chair to continue her reading.

She didn’t know for how long she’d been reading, when suddenly the bear stood and turned, before lying down again. It was facing her now.

She frowned at the bear. Why did it do that?

Was it because its position had become uncomfortable? At least it was a sign the bear still had some life. It could be a sign that it was getting better after its dangerous adventure in the blizzard.

It wasn’t attacking her, that was a good sign at least.

Instead, it seemed interested in her. Its eyes were more alert now, and to her shock she noticed that his eyes were an odd shade of green with flecks of blue and grey.

Was that normal?

  ‘Hey there’, she said in an attempt at kindness.

She felt a lot sillier talking to this creature than she normally did while talking to an animal.

Nothing silly about it, it can’t understand you and it won’t judge you for speaking either, just like those mice and bunnies.

The bear blinked at her and she returned to her reading, going back to reading out loud.

By the time she’d finished her tale and looked back at the bear over the top of her book, it had closed its eyes.

‘Alright, you sleep by the fire’, she sighed before stretching and yawning.

The bear opened its eyes again, as if it understood that it was being addressed. No, that couldn’t be.

She was starting to get so desperate for company she actually started imagining the animals listening and reacting to her.

‘I’m going to go to bed. Don’t do the animal thing okay, I don’t want to clean bear dung from my floorboards. Try holding it until tomorrow morning.’

The bear’s head moved.

No, it couldn’t understand her, could it?

‘Goodnight.’

‘Nnnnaam.’

Esther had to laugh, its bear noise almost sounded like ‘night’, but that couldn’t be. She blew out all the candles. Only the light of the fire now illuminated the giant figure in front of the fire.

‘Okay, see you tomorrow.’

She opened the door to her bedroom and closed it after her. She shook her head with a smile. A bear in her house, which almost seemed to respond to her talking, it really couldn’t get much crazier than that. As she crawled into her bed, she wondered what happened once something stepped foot on her property. Animals with good intentions could, but what if they suddenly turned violent, would her protective spells make the animal disappear? Or would it be able to attack her since it had already passed the wards?

She eyed the door, her heartbeat picking up again. The bear hadn’t given her any reason to fear it, but it was still a wild animal. In the end she cast a light spell on her door so that only she could pass it, after that she fell into a peaceful sleep.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

   She had to admit her brain hadn’t been working when she woke up the next morning. Because she got out of bed like she did every day, and put on her wool stockings and warm morning gown, taking no trouble to brush her hair, before stepping out of her room.

But as she rubbed her eyes, she managed to get a glimpse of something moving in the corner of her eye.

That was the moment where she was snapped out of her sleep drunken state and started screaming.

The bear was just as sleepy and just as startled, but more so because of the scream than the sight of the woman. Just as she screamed in surprise, the bear was rendered mute by shock.

She’d slammed herself into the wall, staring at the bear as she caught her breath. The previous night came back to her, yet to see the bear in bright daylight, humongous, with sharp discernible teeth in its mouth, was enough to get her a bit scared again.

‘Oh, it’s you. I’d quite forgotten about you.’

A sound left the bear’s mouth.

‘I’m sorry, alright. My head doesn’t function in the morning.  You doing better?’

The bear seemed to nod again.

‘I’m going to have breakfast. I don’t know what to give you.’

The bear moaned.

It looked so skinny. It had to eat.

‘Oh if only I knew!’

The instinctive magic inside of her welled up again, making a book fall off of her shelves.

Esther  and the bear broke eye contact because of the sound.

‘What on earth? Oh.’

A book on animals, she’d forgotten she had it, it was one she rarely read. She’d brought it with her so she’d be able to look up all the creatures potentially living in the woods, to find out whether they’d eat her or not.

‘Let’s see what kind of bear you are.’

The bear  stood and walked to her. It seemed to want to look at the book.

Should she sit down so he could see?

As she wondered on what she should do, the bear decided for itself, and lifted itself on its legs.

She had so miscalculated its height. Its head almost touched the ceiling. She didn’t even reach its shoulders.

Her heart started beating.

She’d seen foxes, stags and horses and she’d been threatened by wolves. But the sheer size of this beast was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It dwarfed her.

‘Sit down, I’ll sit down with you. Just… Don’t stand.’

  The bear let itself plop down again, and lied down on the ground, making itself as small as possible. She sat down on her knees and laid the book on the floor. There were five bears in the book. He obviously wasn’t a white one, nor a panda or a black one.

He made a sound as a large paw with giant claws landed on a page.

Stiff with fear, she pushed his paw aside.

‘Alright. So you say you are this type of bear? Let’s see… It says you eat… Everything, potentially… Me.’

She didn’t want to give it ideas though. The bear made a sound, it didn’t sound enthusiastic.

‘Fish. Grasses and stuff, slim chance at that… Berries… If you can eat everything, I think you might be able to eat some porridge with berries like me. You’ll probably need more of it though.’

Luckily, she had a year’s supply of it, just like she had bowls and bowls filled with jams and dried berries. The one good thing of her garden, and a forest filled with wild berries during three seasons of the year.

The bear happily ate four plates of porridge with berries before he seemed to be satisfied.

‘Seems the cold froze your instincts as well, a bear eating human breakfast’, she laughed.

 There was no guideline for taking care of starved bears though, so Esther didn’t know what to do with the unexpected guest. It was December, and there was little to do in the winter season. She couldn’t exactly play boardgames with him.

Turned out she didn’t have to, for after breakfast, he went to the door and starting thumping his head against the door. She imagined that if he were a cat, he’d start clawing at the door, but the bear seemed to sense that his claws would destroy the door.

‘You need to go out? You can go. And, should you need to, you can come back here.’

  She opened the door and the bear walked past her, brushing against her legs as he did so. He didn’t look back as he walked into the woods. Esther remained standing in the portal for longer than she liked to admit. And if she sat down on a chair near the window to regularly check the woods, she wouldn’t tell.

‘This is so stupid, it’s a bear. It was already strange enough that he came by once, why would he return? They’re meant to steer away from humans.’

She looked outside again.

‘Though I hope he won’t starve.’

The silence was getting to her again, so she made the piano play a cheerful tune.

Tea, she needed tea. Her cauldron of water was empty. She walked outside, humming to herself as she made the cauldron float behind her.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  It was in this instant, as she was picking up snow and throwing it in the floating cauldron, the ice biting in her hands, that she was once again startled by a sound.

But this time it was no growl, nor was it the wind howling in the trees. For the first time in three years, Esther Denham heard the voice of another living creature. She looked away from the snow, and her eyes connected to the figure of the bear. Two fish lay at its feet. He was completely soaked, and the water was starting to freeze as he was standing there.

‘What was that?’

The bear looked at her with his odd green eyes.

She had not just heard a voice say ‘Witch’.

‘For a second there, I thought you’d talked.’

‘I can talk?’

Esther would never be able to describe how strange it was to hear a human voice out of the very bear-like mouth of a giant bear.

‘You talk. You can’t. You’re a bear.’

‘You magic-ed. Cauldrons aren’t meant to float.’

  He had a point, she wasn’t exactly normal. But compared to a talking bear, she’d say she was…

‘I’m ordinary compared to you. Everyone’s heard tales of witches, I’ve yet to hear a story about talking bears.’

‘There’s one right in that book of you. Did not those bears talk to Goldilocks?’

‘You know fairytales? I’m not doing this. I’m not… I might be lonely but I am not crazy. I am not talking to a speaking bear knowledgeable on fairytales. I’m starting to imagine things… I’m dreaming. I must be. I’m not mad.’

Shaking her head, she took the kettle by its handle and walked in again, closing the door behind her with magic.

As she hung the kettle on its hook again, she heard a bang against the door.

‘Please. I’m cold’, the voice begged.

‘I’m going mad. I’m actually going mad.’

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 But the bear was wet. And it was freezing outside. And he was frail. Of those things she was sure. The question was whether she wanted to risk her sanity for the life of an omnivorous talking bear.

‘How can you talk?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why didn’t you talk yesterday?’

‘I didn’t know I could talk. I never tried it before. And I was tired, I never felt so weak before. I’d been walking through the snow for days. I thought I’d die until I found this cabin. Used my last strength to get here. I couldn’t move an inch once I fell down on your floor. I can’t thank you enough for helping me and feeding me. I know I look dangerous. I know food is scarce. I… I brought you a fish as a sign of thanks.’

‘But the lakes and rivers are frozen. How did you break through the ice?’

‘It wasn’t easy.’

‘Alright, fine. Let’s go along with this madness.’

She opened the door.

‘Get in before you freeze to death… again.’

‘Thank you so much. To take me in and help me, a bear. You’re extraordinary Miss – actually, what is your name?’

She hadn’t talked to another individual in years. But, she’d talked to him yesterday… he simply hadn’t talked back. Standing in front of another rational creature, she suddenly felt self-conscious. If he could talk, he could think and judge. He already knew enough to know that witchcraft was a weird thing. She doubted a bear would go to the village and inform the villagers of her existence. And though she shouldn’t care about how a bear felt about her, he was the first thing she’d had a real interaction with in years.

‘Esther. Esther Denham. Do you have a name?’

‘I think so. But it’s been so long. I don’t… remember.’

‘You don’t remember your own name?’

‘Never had to use it since… Didn’t even know I could speak.’

‘Since what?’

The bear opened his mouth, but instead of words, a roar came out.

  ‘Nice and clear.’

‘I can’t say, Miss Denham. Let’s just keep it on the fact that I have never talked, because I had no one to talk to. Any name I had, I forgot from a lack of use.’

He was what she had feared to become, before her need to break the silence took over, he was so accustomed to being a loner that he’d given up on all communication. Her heart went out to the creature.

‘What do you want me to call you?’

‘Just call me what I am. Bear’s fine.’

‘Alright, Mr. Bear.’

So she took him to the fire, and started brushing the ice out of his fur again. It felt a little weirder, knowing he was a thinking creature, but she got over it. She’d done so the day before, this changed nothing.

It was surprisingly easy to become friends after that. And she really enjoyed having someone to talk to. It helped that his voice was so pleasant as well. He turned out to be quite amusing. He loved to tell jokes, and dearly loved to laugh with everything, but never in a condescending or mocking manner.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  The days went by, and the bear stayed with her, lounging in front of the fire. At night, she read to him, and during the day hours, they talked about nothing and everything. He was a bear, who seemed to magically know about fairytales, she tried not to think on the oddity of it and tried to treat him as she would a human. They talked about everything except her old life.  That life was dead, and she still felt protective over it.

So she talked about all kinds of things she’d encountered in the woods. And he talked about what he’d seen. They talked about things in the house, about falling asleep outside in the forest, about what they’d have for dinner.

His voice became a companion to hers. And his presence a constant she could rely upon. She knew her feelings for him came too fast and were too deep. But after years of loneliness, her heart jumped at the opportunity to love another being. She continuously told herself she shouldn’t rely on his friendship. She begged her heart to remain rational. This was a bear, and humans and animals could never be actual friends. But he was too smart to be a pet. She knew that whatever was between them, was temporary. The winter months were ticking by, and in spring he’d be able to go outside again. They didn’t discuss it. Whenever spring or summer was mentioned, the conversation turned awkward. It was an unspoken promise to just treasure the time they had in each other’s company.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  It was the middle of January, when Esther walked closer to the village than she should’ve. She knew it was risky during daytime hours, but she needed the light to find certain herbs which only grew near the edge of the forest. She’d been suffering from a sore throat for weeks. The bear had taken to telling her stories so she could spare her throat.

‘So you live!’ A booming voice cried.

Before she could respond, two strong arms took her.

‘Good. I happen to have need of you, sister’, he crooned.

She still wondered how his voice could sound like honey even though his words meant no good.

‘Let me go, Edward. Or I swear I –  ’

‘What? You’ll report me? The town folks will surely help one like you. Have your braincells died after you left society? You’re an outcast. People want to hang you. The only thing they’ll assist you in, is your death. You just try crying out, no one will save you.’

He pushed her down in the snow.

‘So here’s the deal. I’ll let you go if you can tell me of my future. It’s one of the only things you were ever good at. Pity you can’t predict your own, would’ve spared you a lot of misery. I’m planning on investing in something. Is it going to be successful?’

‘Let. Me. Go. Please, Edward… You don’t have to do this.’

He pulled on her hear, shoving her face into the snow. The cold seeped through her dress. She’d already gotten goosebumps from her encounter with him, but the stinging pain of the snow now crept through her pores, making its way towards her bloodstream until it ran cold.

‘Are you deaf? Not used to hearing another voice anymore?  I asked AM I GOING TO BE SUCCESFUL?’

Tears rolled over her cheeks as he pushed his knee into her back.

She’d been stupid to love him once.

And she’d paid a mighty price for it.

But it turned out that she hadn’t paid enough.

She’d known coming back was a stupid plan.

A sore throat hardly seemed worth dying.

  A roar rippled through the trees, halting the movements of the person on top of her.

The snow underneath her cheek seemed to shake in anticipation.

The birds grew quiet.

All weighed disappeared from her back as a second roar reverberated through the forest.

She scrambled upright. Edward laid underneath a very large bear.

How could she have forgotten? He was out as well.

The bear went to stand on his two legs.

He’s going to kill him.

   On the one hand, she felt no pity for her step-brother, but on the other hand, she knew her brother had weapons on his person. He could hurt the bear as well.

She could lose him, even before the snow melted.

The only friend she’d had in years.

It was there, at the edge of the forest, with a raging heartbeat, hyperventilating and undercooled, that the nervous breakdown combined with her previous weakness, knocked her out cold.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  When she woke up, she was laying on the carpet in front of the fireplace, surrounded by softness.

Opening her eyes, all she could see was brown fur.

She repositioned herself, and the bear knew she was up.

‘Who was that?’

‘My step brother. When my aunt died, he betrayed me and my cousin, made it known we were witches. Court ordered us to undergo a witch test. I escaped and never returned.’

‘Why didn’t you use your magic to stop him? You use it for everything.’

She hadn’t even thought of it. The second he grabbed her, she became the weak teenage Esther again. Magic hadn’t even crossed her mind. She could’ve perfectly lifted his body with her magic. But instead, she’d been weak, and had surrendered in an instant.

‘I always relied on him. He always did all the thinking. I… I believe he just made me feel as small and stupid as I used to be.’

‘You don’t strike me as stupid.’

‘I was a bad witch and a bad person.’

‘You were… Evil?’

‘Oh, no… Nothing like that. It’s just… I hated being a witch, I hated the inheritance. I just wanted to have a normal life like my brother. So I never put any time in learning how to be a witch. But my aunt wanted to keep me close, and she had all the money. So we stuck around, and my brother promised me a normal life once she died. It was just him and me, you see, when our parents married each other, we became friends, and when they died, we became a team. He learned me everything, kept me safe… I never had to think, he always arranged everything. He was the only person I cared about on this earth. He got out the worst in me. I was silent, and mean, didn’t interact with anyone. But then, he betrayed my cousin and me so he’d get all the money. All his promises of giving me a normal life, getting away from the superstitious town, they were all lies. I only learned to use my power once I was on my own. I had to learn so much.’ She gently stroked his fur as she trailed off.

‘I think you were his prisoner for too long. He has abused the power he had over you in ways I can barely even guess at. But he’s not going to make a  victim out of you any longer. I will not allow it. I wish I would’ve killed him. But taking care of you was more important.’

‘What happened?’

‘You fainted. I bit him in the arm to warn him off. He fled the second I let him go, so I took you back home.’

‘You have more humanity than him.’

His green eyes kept looking at her, but the exhaustion of the day consumed her. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and she slipped away in a matter of minutes, feeling comforted by the wam embrace of her bear.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  It was the end of January. The rivers and lakes were free of ice, though the ground was still covered in snow.

The sky was bright and blue, without a cloud to be seen, when her bear walked into the woods, as he did each day. And after having lived with him for two months, Esther didn’t look out of the window to check in on him anymore.

Perhaps she should’ve. Because she’d sat down in her chair near the fire and started reading a book, and had been absolutely startled by nightfall.

He still hadn’t returned.

She tried to calm herself.

He always came back to her.

And surely, he’d say goodbye if he wasn’t planning on returning?

Something was very wrong. She threw on her cape and ventured out.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 She didn’t know where to start looking. But it didn’t matter, she’d keep on searching until she’d found him. She’d only been out in the dark a handful of times. The forest was a dangerous place to be after dark. But there was no room for anxiety in her head, it was too full of worry.

The first hour she looked in silence. She walked in the dark, because she was affright holding any light might make her eyes lazy in the dark. She needed to see. She tripped more times than she cared to count. Her dress was soaking wet from the snow.

She remained silent the first hour, not wanting to attack any predators. But as the moon rose, so did her worry.

So she cried out for him.

Cried and looked.

A fear wrapped itself around her heart.

She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t stop herself.

What if he had gone?

What if something had happened?

She never asked him where he went to when he went out.

Not that she would’ve been able to find him. For all she knew, she could’ve been walking in circles the past two hours.

The cold was getting to her. Her fingers were so cold they hurt to move, and her body was shaking violently. Her breath was shallow, as it hurt to breathe in the icy air too deeply.

‘Esther!’

It was him. She blinked, looking around. The sound came from everywhere and nowhere in the dark forest.

‘Bear?’

‘Esther!’

The same pitiful roar she’d heard the day she met him came from the left of her.

She ran.

She ran and fell time and time again, but she didn’t care.

   ‘Keeping making noise, please!’

‘Esther!’

And when she tripped another time, she fell on a large soft mass.

She’d found him.

‘Bear!’

His paw was stuck in a bear trap.

‘Oh god.’

This explained.

She didn’t even have to focus. Her rage grew so large the trap simply exploded, but he didn’t stand up.

‘Bear? Mr. Bear?’

A soft moan left his snout.

She lifted him with her magic.

‘It’s time to come home.’

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  She was up all night, brewing healing potions and tonics, and cleaning his wounds. He floated in and out of conscience for hours, and he kept on shaking, God only knew how many hours he’d been stuck lying on the snowy ground.

Finally, at five in the morning, her bear appeared to be lucid and calm. He’d stopped shaking two hours prior, and his eyes weren’t glazed with pain anymore.

She’d fallen asleep against him, exhaustion consuming her the exact instant she knew him to be out of danger.

He stirred then, waking her up ever so gently.

She blinked, her brown doe eyes connecting with his. Between delirious dreams, and instances where reality, memory and dream blended together in his pain fuelled state, he’d seen fragments of memories of times long gone by. But most importantly, he’d remembered something he wanted to share with her as quickly as possible.

‘It’s James… My name is James.’

Esther blinked again. ‘Your name?’

‘I have a name. I remember.’

‘Oh.’ The meaning finally hit her through the layers of exhaustion.

She took his mighty large head in her hands and pressed her nose against his.

‘Hello, James. You had me worried there for a moment. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.’

‘For a second, I feared the exact same thing. Thank you for looking for me. I know you hate the dark. It was incredibly brave.’

‘I’m not brave. I was just worried. I’m still just as scared.’

He was too tired to tell her that that was exactly what bravery was. Sleep took them both again.

His paw didn’t heal easily, and she didn’t knew a lot about healing spells.

He had a hard time leaning on it. She brought his every meal to him, and helped him get outside when he needed to.

She’d taken to sitting with her back against him as they talked at night. It felt weird now, sitting in a chair away from him after they’d saved each other’s lives.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  But when March came around, the snow had gone, and his paw had healed enough. He would forever have difficulty walking, but he was strong again. And had recovered much of the weight he’d lost before he first came knocking on her door.

‘I thank you, sweet Esther, for all your good care. I wish I could stay with you, but I can’t. I have to move forward, now more than ever.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t tell you. I wish I could. But I can’t. Please, don’t think I’m leaving you. If I could… And should you wish, I’d stay.’

But leave he did, and nothing could chase the loneliness away.

It came back tenfold after he left, now that she was so used to having company again.

Not a day went by where she didn’t miss him.

She cried and cried, but to no avail.

James didn’t return.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 It was stupid, missing a wild animal. And she hated herself for being so dependent on other people. First Edward, now him. She had a penchant for choosing those who’d leave her.

She hated herself for missing him.

And she hated how each time she lost track of her thoughts, the piano started playing ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’.

She hated how she hummed the tune throughout the change of seasons.

A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair. The bear! The bear! Oh come they said, oh come to the fair! The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair!

But James had been good and well intending, he’d shown her more kindness than Edward ever had.

And she supposed she had to be grateful for the company he’d given her, and the time he saved her life. She’d always known their days were numbered.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Spring came and went, summer passed by, and before she blinked, the green leaves turned brown again. The trees, repulsed by their dying extremities, shed their leaves, adding a new layer to the forest floor.

Esther spent her days preparing her garden for winter, making jelly and jam and making treats for the birds with the seeds she got from her sunflowers.

After a busy summer, she started thinking more and more of her bear friend again. As the days got colder, she wondered whether he’d return to her. Some nights, when the wind rattled the wood rattled her home, she sometimes imagined a sound against the door. She’d already opened the door twice for only the cold wind to enter, leaving her chilled and saddened for at least the following hour. She tried not to think too much about him too much, but it was hard.

Especially since she had been feeling quite unsafe the past few weeks. She’d encountered Edward in the woods around the end of October. He’d gotten stuck in a tree with his cape. When he spotted Esther, he’d started begging and demanding her to help him.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

‘Now why would I do that? The last time I saw you, you threatened to have me killed.’

‘Because you were being unreasonable. I asked you to tell me my future and you refused.’

‘Because you betrayed my trust and sent the townfolk after me.’

‘That was years ago.’

‘I won’t help you, Edward.’

‘I wonder how far your house is from this place. Listen, Esther, I can and will get free on my own and I will tell them that you live in the woods unless you help me. This can be our little secret.’

‘Why should I trust you, after everything?’

‘Well, I haven’t told the others after our previous encounter, have I?

Esther took a step back.

‘I assure you, they’ll have no trouble hunting both you and the deer. It’s hunting season, Esther.’

‘Threatening again?’

‘Help me.’

She freed him with the help of her magic. He fell to the ground, staring at her in awe.

‘Do remember I am a witch, Edward. You have no idea what I’m capable of. There, I helped you. Now leave.’

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 They both left, though Esther walked in the wrong direction as a precaution. She really didn’t wish to lead Edward to her home, nor did she trust him.

As she was walking, she did start wondering what Edward had been doing in the woods again, and why the earth had been kicked up near to the spot he’d been standing. Her curiosity proofed to be too great so she went back to the place, wary of each sound and snapping branch. Only an arm’s deep into the earth, she found a heavy sack. She tried to pull it loose from the grasp of the earth, and at first it gave easily, but once the fabric was pulled taut, she became aware of the weight of the sack. It jingled and jangled. She had a physical reaction to each clank of metal, as if the sound would reach and alert Edward wherever he was.

Her rational thoughts found her through the layers of fear, and, remembering she was a witch, she levitated the bag out of the hole.

The bag was almost the size of her person. Deciding it would be safer to check its contents somewhere safe, she took it home, and was astounded to discovering it was filled to the brim with coin, gem and jewel. She could only guess as to how Edward had collected such treasure, but of one thing she was sure: it had to be stolen.

Feeling particularly vengeful, she decided to keep it.

‘You owed me anyways.’

It was enough money to buy herself a castle and start over. A life away from the dangers of the woods, away from the looming threat of the villagers, and away from Edward who would no doubt show no mercy for the theft of his wealth. She started planning and packing, and reduced her amount of walks to a minimum. She only left her protected garden and home for a fifteen minute dash to the river the catch some fish for supper every three days.

It proved still too much when she was tackled to the ground, five minutes removed from her home.

She started wondering if she was the only one who’d taken up residence in the woods, for Edward sure spent a lot of time in them as well.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

   ‘You thought you could steal from me and get away with it? Did you?’

‘Let me go.’

‘Let you go? Just let you go? After you stole from me? Oh no dear sister, I showed you mercy. Now I’ll show you my wrath. And don’t hope for a random bear to save you this time around. That kind of luck never comes around twice.’

He got up and kicked in her in the stomach. She bent  over, covering her stomach.

‘Where is my treasure.’

‘You stole it yourself.’

He kicked her again. ‘You don’t know that. And so what? It’s mine now.’

Another kick. ‘Where?’

Esther remained silent.

‘I won’t ask a third time. I’d hate to fuck up your pretty face.’

‘You don’t deserve a single penny from that treasure.’

He pulled her up by her hair and kicked her in the back this time. She cried out in pain as he dropped her to the floor again.

‘You can’t kill me. Then you’ll never find it.’

‘But I can make you suffer.’

‘Do as you please, but I won’t help you.’

‘You stupid little witch. I should have burned you the same day I outed you!’

A witch. She was a witch!

Why did she always forget that when she was around him?

She raised her hand, flexing her fingers to cast an incantation, but Edward gave her another kick before she had the chance to finish the movement.

‘You were always the weakest of them all, Esther. You think magic is going to help you?’

Another kick.

She wailed and formed her body into a ball to shield her most fragile areas.

‘You’re a failure. You can’t be normal. You can’t be a witch. You’re an awful thief. I think I might be doing you a favour by killing you. You’re utterly deluded if you think you can ever reach something.’

She had no doubt he had the capacity to kill her.

She couldn’t imagine herself escaping the situation.

Perhaps it was true. What had she done well on this earth? What had she done with her life? She didn’t even have anyone who’d miss her.

Hot tears heated her cheeks as she fought to find the strength to fight back. But the constant onslaught of kicks made it hard to focus on anything beside the pain.

 “But he’s not going to make a  victim out of you any longer. I will not allow it.”

But here he was, making a victim out of her again. And there she lay, undergoing his treatment. She wished she had the strength to fight back. To defend the life her friend had saved.

‘I’m sorry, James.’

‘What’s that?’

His kicks halted for a second, believing Esther to have said something that might be a plea or a location. Esther wasted no time letting go of her body and immediately made a gesture which threw him three feet away from her.

She tried to scramble to her feet, she honestly tried, but her body was so sore that her legs crumpled underneath her weight.

‘You’re going to fight? Bold of you. Didn’t knew you had some Denham spice after all.’

‘I hate you.’

‘Do you? I remember a time where you said quite the opposite.’ His words missed their mark, or rather, they hit the wrong one. It didn’t make her feel insecure or sad, it made her boil with rage.

Esther's beam of light blinded him.

‘I do.’

Her hands tingled with energy. She wanted to hurt him. Yet at the same time, she wondered if she was capable of murder.

Edward fell to his knees as the pure energy shot from her hands and connected with his chest.

   ‘You bitch!’ His scream deepened, the sound echoing through the woods and becoming inhuman… Esther stared in disbelief.

How did he… he didn’t. His scream had left his mouth at the same time a roar rippled through the woods.

Could it be?

Esther couldn’t stop herself from looking around.

A foolish mistake, honestly. She should have known. Edward yanked on her hair and pushed her into the dirt again.

They tackled each other, now both on their knees in the dirt. Esther kicking up the brown ground and Edward lashing out at her with his fists. They fell and rolled, kicked and pushed, and then.

‘James!’

A fist connected with her cheek.

As her face connected with the ground once more, she could just see the shimmer of a knife in Edward’s hands. Then everything faded to black.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 Her head pounded. Her muscles ached. Beside her face, a bear moaned pitifully. She could just notice a pair of green eyes beside her. She reached out, her hands connecting with the fur she would never forget the feel of. Her hands clenched shut around it. The bear was moving, and she was being pulled on top. She fell away again.

  She was aware of  moving. She could feel herself rising and falling. The sensation was not unfamiliar to the one of being on a horse years ago. The light went out.

 The ground was hard, and her head throbbed. Simply moving her finger hurt enough to cripple her. She tried to lift her body, but she didn’t think she’d managed to get even an inch above the ground, before her body ached so much it shut down again.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 It was pitch black when she opened her eyes again. It was the first time she didn’t have to fight to keep them open, though her body still hurt like hell. She’d never done her witch triall, but she could imagine how a highwayman felt after having been broken on the wheel.

‘Esther?’

J-J- James?’

Something moved beneath her. Had she been lying on the bear?

‘Thank God, I was so worried for you.’

‘Don’t be.’

‘How can I not?’

‘I survived this long on my own.’

‘It didn’t really look like you were surviving all that well.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have left me.’

‘I’m sorry… I just… I really wished I could have stayed. But I couldn’t.’

‘Why?’

Even saying the words hurt, as they required breath, and breathing wasn’t particularly enjoyable at the moment.

‘I can’t tell.’

‘Well try.’

‘I wanted to… to… break my curse.’

Esther’s eyebrows lifted.  She could feel her bear move underneath her.

‘I can tell it? I can? Esther, I tried to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t. Only bear noises came out. I don’t know how it’s possible now but I’m going to try. Can you listen right now?’

‘I might be in pain… And I’m not excluding the possibility I might faint somewhere in the foreseeable future… But if you don’t start talking now I’ll find the strength to beat the answer out of you.’

‘There is the Miss Denham I’m used to.’

She wished she had the strength to roll her eyes.

‘My ancestors once decided it was a good idea to curse the family treasure. Whoever stole it would be cursed with bad luck, and whoever lost it would be cursed as well, but they would be given the strength of a bear to get the treasure back… I never thought the curse would be… You know… Like it is. But when I was away from home, the treasure was stolen, and out of nowhere, I turned into a bear. I was chased and hunted. Turns out people don’t like bears a lot.’

Esther could hear the humour in his voice, and well-remembered how scared she’d been when she first met him.

‘I came to this region because I could simply sense that the thief lived in this area. But I could never find him. Then winter set in, and you saved me. When I left, it was only because each day, though I’d never particularly enjoyed being a bear, I found myself growing more and more agitated with my predicament. You made me want to search with a renewed vigour.’

Her mouth was dry, and the load of information only slowly penetrated the woolly interior of her head. But as the words seeped in, her heartbeat picked up.

He had a family.

The family had a treasure.

The treasure was stolen.

 He was cursed with the strength of a bear…

‘Why?’

‘Because each day I looked at you, I found myself wishing I could touch your face without my claws peeling your skin off. Needing to hold you in my arms instead of having you lean against my side… And having to kiss you or going mad.’

Esther didn’t know how one was supposed to react to being told they were loved by a bear, who actually turned out to be a cursed human, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to giggle.

But giggle she did.

‘This is ridiculous.’

Edward had killed her. Or he’d pushed her to the edge of death.

Her dying mind had probably gone delirious and imagined the return of James, and had started adding more and more fantastical elements so that she could die happily.

‘I should have known. After all, what am I to you but a strange talking bear?’

‘What happened to Edward?’

The bear grew quiet. Esther nodded. She could have guessed. She didn’t know how to feel about it, but it didn’t particularly sadden her. He’d tried to kill her thrice in six years.

‘I told you I might kill him. I apologise. I know it’s wrong.’

‘I think you may have killed the thief who stole your treasure.’

‘But then how will I ever find it? I’m cursed!’

James growled and gnarled and roared out of frustration and sadness.

If anything, it gave Esther time to process everything.

Her bear was back. Her bear, who had always been a friend instead of a pet, was human. And for some odd reason, he happened to be a wealthy lord who proclaimed to be in love with the odd poor witch of the woods.

And she held the key to his humanity in her bedroom!

‘I have it. I took it, that’s why he was attacking me… It’s in my bedroom. If you push my drawer away, you’ll find a set of stairs to a secret storage room. It’s there. You can take it back, it belongs to you.’

‘You took it?’

‘Edward owed me my inheritance, and I knew there was no way he had earned that much. I didn’t really think it through, but I figured I could use at least a part of it to get away and start my life over. It would also mean I was safe and away from Edward. But he got to me first. I’m sorry I stole your treasure.’

‘You stole from your brother, not from me. Even I would feel no remorse over stealing from a man like him.’

Esther nodded. The rollercoaster of emotions was draining all the energy she’d gathered from her sleep. She was starting to get drowsy again.

‘I’m glad I could assist you. You’ve always been kind to me. You deserve to get your treasure back.’

‘You’re a remarkably kind woman yourself… E- Es, you’re falling asleep again, aren’t you?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Is there a potion I could give you? To ease the pain?’

‘Amasfelaynes’, she breathed, as she curled up again. It would help the bruises heal, though it would make the pain a bit worse at first. But it was fine, she was sure she’d be able to sleep through it.

She felt a vial of glass connecting to her face, and weakly lifted her hand towards it. James had taken it between his sharp teeth. She honestly didn’t even bother opening her eyes anymore as she unscrewed the lid and downed its contents.

Sleep took her seconds after.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 When she woke up again, it was about noon, judging by the light inside her cabin. The fire was still crackling behind her. Her body ached, but it didn’t throb like it did the night before.

The potion had done its magic. She redistributed her weight to find a more comfortable position on the carpet, and became aware of an arm tensing around her middle.

She stiffened.

Calm down.

One breath.

Two breaths

Three breaths.

She was laying on the floor of her cabin in the woods. This much she understood. She’d fallen asleep there after James gave her her potion.

She pushed herself to look at her waist. And there it was: an arm dressed in a richly embroidered blue coat. On the end of the coat, a frilly end of a white sleeve could be distinguished, from which a very scarred wrist and a hand hung. The scars were ugly and purple, and there were visible depths in the skin. Whatever had happened to his writs, he was lucky it was still attached to his body.

A treasure.

James.

A curse.

The wrist! The paw!

She couldn’t help the shiver running down her spine.

Her dear bear had revealed to her he was supposed to be a man. No human should be able to get into her home. Therefore, the only humans who could have entered her home were she herself, and humans who walked passed the gate as something other than human.

The retrieval of his treasure must have restored his human form.

‘Because each day I looked at you, I found myself wishing I could touch your face without my claws peeling your skin off. Needing to hold you in my arms instead of having you lean against my side… And having to kiss you or going mad.’

He was human now.

She didn’t dare look at him. Behind her wouldn’t lay the bear whose hairy snout she’d become so accustomed to, but the face of a man she’d never seen before.

But she did know him.

And she had heard him.

She studied his hand, as it was the only thing she could look at without moving, and the only aspect she could analyse without starting to tremble.

The hand had long fingers, and though the palm was considerably larger than hers, it wasn’t too broad. As far as she could judge, he’d have a moderate waist.

Would he be as tall as his bear form? That would be very large.

As she was wondering about his looks, she didn’t notice that the figure behind her was slowly waking up.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  ‘Esther?’

‘James!’

She shrieked.

She was scared of him again. And scared of how their relation would continue after this moment. It was one thing to welcome a bear into her home, but another to be faced with a man who’d declared his desire for her before she’d even seen him.

‘Esther, please, don’t be scared.’

She wondered if he’d somehow look like his bearform.

There was only one way to find out.

But once she looked, there was no going back. Her bear friend would be gone.

Her life as she knew it would probably be over as well.

So much was about to happen. She wished she could lay on this floor with her eyes shut forever. The change was too sudden, too drastic.

Soft, warm hands took hold of hers.

‘Esther, please. I’m still… Me. Though I’ll probably be less hungry and hairy than before.’

She laughed at that, and opened her eyes.

They connected with a lovely pair of green eyes, found in a round face framed by hair and a beard the same dark chocolate shade as his fur had been.

He was… Not ugly.

Far from it actually.

She didn’t know how much time passed, gazing into his eyes, but she did know time had most definitely passed.

    ‘Now what?’

‘That’s entirely up to you.’

‘Me?’

‘You.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘What do you want, Miss Denham?’

‘Want in what way?’

‘Of life. You told me yesterday you wished to start your life anew to escape your brother’s clutches. Your brother is gone now. So I wish to give you the choice: do you wish to remain here, or move away and start over? You’ve helped me so many times, and saved my life. I’ll do everything in my power to help you achieve happiness in whatever way you want.’

Remain behind, in the woods she’d been chased to, and the woods she feared. Or start anew, away from it all, but without a single friend? What would she do all day? At least here she was busy struggling for her life.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I also have another offer.’

‘You do?’

‘You could… Marry me? You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’re witty, intelligent, beautiful, caring and so much more. I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I do you. But I know you do not know me the way I do you, and it hardly seems fair. To you I am an entirely new person.’

‘You pretend as though I am the one who would fare badly if we were to wed. But you’re a fool if you can’t see I’m not worth having. I’m a witch and I don’t have a penny to my name.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You should.’

‘I don’t. So we’re both an awful prospect?’

‘Actually, you’re not that awful. I do know you. I’ve talked with you every day for over four months. We discussed everything. Now I just get a face to match with the voice.’

‘And how does the face match the voice?’

‘Well you still look positively as wild as your growls sound. But I assume your face looks as kind as your voice sounds.’

‘I never quite know whether you’re complimenting or insulting me’, he laughed. She couldn’t help but smile back at him.

She shook her head.

‘You’re not meant to. I wouldn’t want you to feel too confident.’

‘Oh no, you must prevent that at all costs.’

And it was at this moment, when both couldn’t get the foolish smiles off their faces, that their hands started reaching for the other.

Lips connected, bodies entwined themselves and passion was discovered, elevating the friendship from the bear and the maiden fair, to passionate heights.

   ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

   If you’d ask his best man, Sidney Parker, he wouldn’t be able to explain anything. He only knew that one day, after an absence of a year and a half, Lord Babington came riding through the gates of his family home, with a woman in tow. Nobody knew where she came from, and nobody knew how they’d met, but Lord Babington announced they were to be wed. It could only be attested, by everyone who’d seen the wedding, that the groom looked positively bewitched by his new bride, and the bride was happier than any other.

[gwentoryfics]

Hot for Teacher, Part 1.

REPOSTED FROM MY ORIGINAL BLOG, GWENTORY.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Hongseok x Reader x Hyunggu (Kino)

Words | 9.5k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Alcohol and underage drinking. Swearing. Dangerous levels of lust.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 •  More Coming Soon AO3 | 1 • 2

Playlist | Spotify • Youtube

Note | Due to excessive references to American music, I’ve decided to set this fic in America instead of South Korea. Names will follow the American standard of (First Name) (Last Name), instead of the Korean (Family Name) (Given Name). I’ve also linked a playlist (above) that includes any referenced songs, artists, or other music that helps set the vibe, so please check it out!

This can’t be happening. This absolutely, cannot be happening to you right now.

You stare at your professor in shock from the safety of the back of the classroom, hoping to all that is holy that he will not look up to find you sitting there. How could he of all people be your professor? How could you possibly be so unlucky?

Your heart races as your mind clouds over with the memory of that night, of the press of his lips and the fervid insistence of his hands as they explored your body. In a night of slightly drunken passion, you had unknowingly slept with the man who was apparently fated to be your professor. You feel like you could cry from embarrassment, and you bury your head in your notebook as he begins roll call.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.” Your friend Shinhye leans over, voice thick with worry.

You nod, not exactly wanting to fill her in on quite possibly the biggest blunder of your life. Maybe you’d share the story of your sexual escapades with her at some point, but sitting in the same room as your partner in crime is not the time or place to do so. “I’m fine. Just having second thoughts about the class.”

“Shinhye Nam?” He calls flatly from the front of the class.

“Here!” She pipes up and then whispers to you, “What? You’ve been looking forward to this class for months!”

“Yeah, but-”

“_____?” The sound of his voice wrapping around the syllables of your name sends a delicious shiver down your spine. You remember that sound, remember exactly the song of your name as it poured from his lungs that night.

“Here,” you respond meekly, lifting your notebook a fraction higher to give you more cover. Does he remember your name? Does he recognize your voice? Does he remember you at all? Surely he hadn’t been drunk enough to completely forget your tryst.

He moves on to the next name without pause, without even sparing a glance your way. Maybe he had forgotten after all. Maybe you’ve been completely wiped from his memory of that night. Or, conversely, maybe he had only forgotten your name, just as you’ve forgotten his. That doesn’t necessarily mean that your night together was insignificant to him.

It should have been insignificant, though. That’s how hookups work. You bite down on your lip and curse yourself for all of the stupid feelings that flood you, curse the way your heart pounds harder just being in the same room as him. It was just one night, and even though it rocked you to your core it was nothing more than a one-and-done rendezvous.

It was maybe a month and a half ago, but your memory of it is much clearer than it should be, especially given the alcohol consumption that colored most of your evening in a rosy haze. Maybe you had worked overtime to engrain every little detail into your memory because you knew you would never want to forget.

Your cousin’s wedding was a gorgeous affair. Lavish floral arrangements adorned the walls and pews, and sanctuary of the church, each bundle of white roses bound together with violet ribbons and lace. Music floated out from grand piano and violin duo, and oh what you would have done to get your hands on that Steinway. Its tone was pure as snow and you bet it played like a dream. And with the reverberating acoustics of the tall church ceiling, its sound was nothing short of angelic.

The priest led the groom in from the side. You had not yet met Hwitaek, but he was handsome and bore a kind, nervous smile. He looked like exactly the kind of guy Jiyoo would fall for, and it made you happy to see the apparent anxious excitement he had for the event.

The music changed and the processional began. The bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way down the aisle two at a time, arm in arm, and you were captivated by the elegant dresses the bridal party wore. The purple of their gowns exactly matched the accents of the flowers in their bouquets, and the bodices were intricately decorated with the finest crystals. The girls absolutely sparkled. But, of course, they could never outshine the bride.

All of the attendants stood as the music changed once more, signaling the entrance of the bride. Jiyoo appeared at the end of the aisle, clinging to her father’s arm as they slowly moved forward. The skirt of her ballgown dress nearly filled the whole aisle, and the sweetheart neckline hid behind a sheer lace boat neck top with cap sleeves. It was so stunningly her. And her bouquet was dripping with crystals, her veil and train similarly doused in glitz. But above all, she looked so, so happy.

She joined Hwitaek, passing off her bouquet and taking his hand, and you realized that he had tears in his eyes. Yes, he was definitely the sweetheart for Jiyoo.

The priest opened the ceremony with a prayer, and you obediently bowed your head, although you were admittedly on the fence about your religious beliefs. Still, you sent out some hopeful well-wishes for the soon-to-be newlyweds, because it couldn’t hurt to put some good energy out into the universe.

The ceremony proceeded, and although beautiful, it certainly lacked entertainment value. Not that weddings are meant to be entertaining, per se, but the more religious ceremonies could really drudge on, in your opinion. This one was certainly no exception. There were plenty of scripture readings and hymns, most of which you knew by heart due to spending your childhood in a very similar church. But right as you were starting to feel boredom blur your focus, you noticed him.

He was a groomsman, two down the line from Hwitaek. His tux looked as though it had been made for him, crisp and clean and sitting just right on his broad shoulders. He could have been a model, or a celebrity even, for all you knew. He was certainly far too gorgeous to just be an ordinary person. His dark hair hung soft on his forehead, his eyes were sharp, his lips were plush. How had it taken you so long to notice him?

For the rest of the ceremony you found yourself to be quite preoccupied, as one would imagine. The borderline salacious thoughts that filtered through your mind almost made you feel uncomfortable to be sitting in the house of God, so you did your best to train your eyes on Jiyoo and Hwitaek instead of the unfortunate, unreal beauty of the groomsman.

Finally, after far too long of a ceremony, the couple shared their first kiss as husband and wife, and the whole party recessed down the aisle. You thought you were in the clear, since The World’s Biggest Distraction was finally leaving, but then the damn boy looked squarely at you as he walked by.

You swear your panties literally (not literally) disintegrated.

Back in the classroom, Shinhye kicks your chair, startling you back to the present. “Girl, snap out of it. Why are you so spacey?”

You sit up a little straighter, dropping your notebook onto the desk and blurting, “Yeah, no, it’s fine.”

Your nonsense earns you a weird look, which you make right back at her before glancing to the front of the room, where The Hottest Professor is staring right at you.

Well, you couldn’t have avoided it forever.

His gaze lingers just long enough for you to know that he recognizes you, that he’s having the same mild freakout as you. So he does remember.

Clearing his throat, he breaks eye contact and casually looks around the room as he introduces himself. “Good morning everyone, and welcome to the first day of classes. I am Professor Yang. It is very nice to meet all of you.” He picks up a stack of papers from his desk and starts passing the packets down each row, working his way to the back of the room. “This is a two-part class. For the first seven weeks we will meet here in the classroom and learn the basics of physics as they pertain to musical instruments. The following eight weeks will be spent in the workshop across the hall, where you will each build your own instrument with my guidance.”

You intentionally keep your eyes glued to the blank page of your notebook, and you curse yourself for having chosen the seat at the beginning of the row. He holds the last of his packets out to you, standing close enough that you can smell the sweet cardamom and bergamot of his cologne. Damn, you love that smell.

“You’ll notice my office hours listed here on the syllabus. My office is right down at the end of the hall. Please feel free to stop in if there are ever any questions or concerns about the course material.”

It feels as though his words are directed specifically at you instead of the entirety of the class, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re only imagining it. You begrudgingly peek up at him and he nods encouragingly, still waiting for you to take the papers. When you finally grab the meager stack, he immediately heads back to the front of the class without so much as a smile. But what else should you expect? He’s probably not happy about this situation either.

The syllabus states his office location and hours as well as a phone number, which you assume is for an office phone. He would be insane to give out his personal phone number, especially being as attractive as he is. Students would certainly take advantage of that, yourself not included. You know better. You want absolutely nothing to do with this man if he’s your teacher.

Professor Hongseok Yang. You groan and slump down in your chair.

What have you done?

The reception was held in the banquet hall of a hotel not too far from the church. It was an elegant setting, with pretty white tables and chairs and more of the same extravagant floral arrangements for centerpieces. The lavender lighting cast a soft glow on the sheer white curtains billowing softly by the open windows, a pleasant summer breeze filling the room with fresh air. The calming color and soothing evening air did nothing to relax your nerves, though, your leg jiggling up and down to release the nervous energy within you.

You anxiously awaited the arrival of the wedding party, sipping at the champagne meant for a toast and convincing yourself that you were getting worked up over nothing. It’s not like anything would happen. You would never in a million years work up the courage necessary to speak to the groomsman. He was way out of your league; you’d just clam up and look like an idiot if you tried to start a conversation. It would definitely be much safer to keep to yourself.

Really, the whole thing was stupid. You were there to support your cousin, not to fawn over some guy. It was absurd for you to be so bothered by your sudden love interest to the point of meticulously planning out the rest of the night in order to avoid being around him. Yet there you were, completely intent on spending the night at your table, having a night of simple conversation and safe, good fun. And eventually you’d get out of your seat to congratulate the happy couple, but that’s it. Your mom would be so proud.

Your cousin had been kind enough to seat you at a table with your other cousins instead of your parents. You wouldn’t have minded sitting with your parents, but if you had the choice you’d much rather be around people your own age. Your parents could be a little uptight (well, more than a little, especially when going to family events), and even if you were going to have a low-key night, you’d have a much better time gossiping with your cousins instead of constantly having to reassure your mother that she looks just as beautiful as your aunts without looking overdone.

All you wanted was a relaxed, stress free night. But when had things ever gone the way you planned?

You had tried not to stare at him. You really had. But some things just can’t be helped. The wedding party made their entrance, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He glowed when he smiled, burning brighter than the sun, but you were unable to look away and save yourself, completely trapped in the warmth of his light.

You realized that at least a fraction of your attraction to him was likely due to the personality you were projecting onto him - he seemed clever, funny, stubborn - but he might not have been any of those things. Maybe he was bookish, or a sports fanatic. Maybe he loved puppies and children, or cigarettes and motorcycles. You only had one way to find out for sure, but you would certainly not be learning those things about him tonight or any other night.

When the meal was finished and the dancing had begun, you just couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. He and the other groomsmen partied hard, tearing up the dance floor and taking full advantage of the open bar. The particular man that had caught your eye left his jacket at the table, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veiny forearms - dangerous, as you were far too easily affected by impressive vasculature. He had to be covered in muscles, you just knew it.

Minseo, who had been sitting next to you all night, returned from the bar with a round of beverages for the both of you. “Bless Jiyoo for asking a friend to bartend. He’s not carding and honestly he’s super cute.”

“What I’m hearing is that we need to down these drinks as fast as possible so you can get back up there and talk to him again.” You gratefully accepted the wine glass, immediately pulling it to your lips and taking a deep sip of the dry, fruity beverage.

“Not a bad idea. And next time I’ll get a more complicated drink.” She smiled mischievously, taking a long sip of her own wine, which was already half finished. “What about you? When are you gonna go out there and dance? He’ll never notice you sitting over here.”

Wine dribbled down your chin when you pulled away from your glass too soon, and you sloppily wiped it off with the back of your hand before it could drip onto your dress. “What? Who? What are you talking about?” You blubbered, face growing warm, realizing that she had caught you. Your staring must have been too obvious.

“Come on. The groomsman. You can’t keep your eyes off of him. I’m telling you to go make a move.” She plopped into her seat. “Seriously. Go get it.”

Vehemently shaking your head, you refuse to take her up on any of her ludicrous suggestions. “Are you kidding me? I can’t just walk up to him and… and…”

“No, you’re right, you’re right. We’ll go together.” Minseo downed the rest of her drink and waited for you to do the same.

You continued your head-shaking routine, adding a finger wag for emphasis. “No way. I’m staying right here where it’s safe. The DJ isn’t that great anyway. Do you hear this music? I can’t dance to this.”

Just as soon as you mentioned it, the music cut out, drawing your attention to the DJ’s stand. Shinhye twisted in her seat to look over. “What’s he doing? The song isn’t even over.”

“See? I told you-”

“Alright, single ladies!” The DJ shouted way too loudly into the microphone. “Let’s get all of you out here and toss that bouquet!”

Minseo’s head whipped around like something out of a horror movie. Before she could say a single word, you took to shaking your head once more. “No, no, no. I am not going up there.”

You knew she wouldn’t listen to your futile attempts at refusal. Minseo stood, forcefully grabbing your wrists and yanking you out of your chair. “Come on, it’s for Jiyoo. Just stand there and look involved.”

Begrudgingly, you let her drag you to the center of the room, where you joined at least fifteen other bachelorettes. You tucked yourself amongst them, wishing you could just be invisible. Jiyoo smiled brightly at her flock of targets before turning her back, and when the DJ counted down from three, she flung her beautiful bouquet into the air.

And wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing flew right for you.

It arced high in the air, but it didn’t take a genius to see where it was going to land. You lifted your hands and it fell right into your grasp; you didn’t even have to reach for it. The room was all cheers and applause as you very suddenly became the center of attention, Jiyoo closing in to congratulate you.

“Ahhh, my baby cousin!” She squealed as she wrapped her arms around you in a big hug, her poofy dress swallowing your legs. “You know that means you’re next, right?”

“Next to get married?” You question with a quiet laugh. “That seems unlikely. I don’t know if you’ve noticed how very much single I am.”

“But the flowers have commanded that you’ll fall in love.” Jiyoo winked playfully, and you couldn’t help but smile, even if you didn’t believe in such superstitions.

The wedding photographer snapped a few photos of the two of you, and for a moment you forgot all about the beautiful distraction that was currently seated at the head table. You squeezed your cousin tightly, congratulating her on this big step into womanhood. “I’m so happy for you, Jiyoo! Your new husband is super cute, too.”

“He is, isn’t he.” She smiled wide and then gasped. “You haven’t met him yet, have you?”

“Not yet, actually.”

Nodding her head towards the front of the room, she took your hand sweetly. “That needs to change. You’ll love him.”

“I’m sure I will.” You laughed and eagerly followed her to their table before you could realize who else waited there. And by the time you saw the groomsman seated there, it was already too late.

“Hwitaek!” Jiyoo called as you both approached. “Come here, sweetie.”

Hwitaek, who was mid-conversation with the cause of your demise, patted said instigator on the back and looped around the table to come meet you. You fixated on him to keep your eyes from straying over to the man with the perfect face, and it seemed to work out okay.

“Hwitaek, this is my cousin, _____.” Jiyoo introduced you. “She caught the bouquet!”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Hwitaek enthusiastically drew you into a hug, and you wondered if the extremely friendly gesture was at all fueled by alcohol. Maybe he was just a friendly guy. “Congratulations on the bouquet catch!”

“Thank you,” you laughed as he released you. “And congratulations to you on the marriage! That’s certainly a bigger deal than the flowers.”

He smiled sweetly, tucking Jiyoo under his arm. “Thank you. I’m a very lucky man. She’s my best friend.”

Jiyoo beamed, and your heart warmed. They were absolutely precious together, the love between them practically tangible. Maybe one day you could find a love like that.

Just then, the DJ came in with some shitty, generic pop song, and Jiyoo perked up. “Oh my gosh, I love this song! Let’s dance!” She started to pull both you and Hwitaek back towards the dance floor, but you returned to your default mode.

“I’m actually really thirsty, so I’m going to get some more to drink. But you two have fun!” It was much easier to slip out of Jiyoo’s grip than it was when Minseo held your wrist, and Jiyoo and Hwitaek carried on just fine without you.

And then you made the mistake of turning directly towards the hot groomsman.

You met his eyes and froze. Everything stopped. Your tongue dried up, nothing more than a hardened sponge in your mouth, and your pulse slowed to a halt. You were dead. Absolutely, unequivocally dead. Taken by the unmatched lethal power of a perfectly executed seductive gaze.

Jesus Christ, you were drowning in lust.

He raised an eyebrow at you, looking amused by the goldfish expression you bore. “Hi.”

Oh, dear Lord, even his voice was beautiful. You needed to get out of there fast. With a nod and awkward sort of salute, you took off, finding solace in the safety of your table. You plopped into your chair and practically inhaled the rest of your wine, dropping the bouquet onto the table and wondering how much longer you would have to suffer through this reception.

It would have been nice to have some relief. To get a moment to compose yourself and let your heart rate return to normal. But Minseo, the everloving bane of your existence, could not let that happen.

You spotted her on the dance floor. She looked over her shoulder back at you, a devilish expression on her face, and you realized that she was definitely up to no good.

Minseo had always been a troublemaker and bad influence over you. She was your closest cousin for sure, and had been a good friend of yours all your life. You loved her to death, but Jesus Christ she really knew how to push your buttons.

Born without a single shy bone in her body, she practically shimmied right up to the groomsmen, targeting the one with the sharp eyes and plush lips and dark, soft hair. The one with his sleeves rolled up, the one that you’re convinced is the most attractive man to ever exist. She zeroed in on him, leaning in far too close as she spoke into his ear. And then she pulled back only to point at you, and suddenly his eyes were locked on yours once more.

And this time, he smiled. Oh Lord in Heaven, he smiled. At you. And your heart went up in flames. Total destruction. There were no survivors.

You ripped your eyes from his, suddenly sweating profusely and somehow out of breath. Your trembling hands lifted the remainder of Minseo’s wine to your mouth and you sucked it all down, realizing that you were far too sober to make it through the night alive. And much to your terror, you set the empty glass onto the table and looked up to see him headed straight for you.

Panicked, you rose to your feet and took off in the opposite direction, hurtling yourself towards the bathroom so you could hide.

Once you burst through the door, you flicked cold water onto the back of your neck, wishing you could douse your whole face in it without messing up your makeup. Instead you just took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself because you were clearly overreacting in every sense of the word.

Why were you so terrified? He was just a guy, albeit a drop dead gorgeous one. That kind of beauty was frankly quite intimidating, though, and you just knew you’d look like an idiot if you had to say a single word to him.

You considered a plethora of escape routes, including begging your parents to drive you home early and climbing out of the small frosted-glass window right there in the corner of the bathroom. But were you really that much of a chicken? Were you really going to let one attractive guy scare you off?

Then you remembered the way he smiled, remembered the way you trembled at the sight of him. He intrigued you, piqued your interest. You were curious what he might be like as a person, a kisser, a lover. You nursed your lower lip between teeth, absolutely giddy at the thought of getting him alone. Sex with him would be incredible, no doubt about it.

Since when were you so shameless, imagining all sorts of lewd scenarios centering around a complete stranger, though gorgeous he may be? You didn’t do hookups. You didn’t do one night stands. Sleeping around was not your thing. But with him… you felt inclined to completely abandon your sense of morality. He sparked something within you that you hadn’t felt, well, probably ever.

That was likely why you were terrified enough to run and hide the second he turned his attention your way - because you had the vague feeling that you would let him do anything he wanted to you, and it’s both thrilling and frightening to know someone could have that kind of power. Especially when you don’t even know the man. Sure, you have a history of being unable to function properly around attractive males in your usual sober circumstances. But this was definitely more than just a fear of looking a fool. It was you avoiding the dangerous call of forbidden pleasures and the path to losing your morality. But most of all, it was the distress over the unsettling feeling that you might actually be okay with stepping out of your comfort zone if it meant you could experience him.

You just weren’t sure how to deal with any of that.

As class wraps up, you pack up your things and wonder if you should say something to him. Should you acknowledge what happened between you? Or would it be best to just ignore it, pretend like it never happened? Maybe you should just let him take the lead on this one.

Before you can really decide one way or the other, Shinhye starts making a scene. “You know, ______, maybe you’re right to be second guessing this class. I’m not sure an eight AM is good for you. Did you pay attention at all?”

“It’s not a big deal, Shinhye, honest.” You speak quietly but harshly, your words carrying more bite than you intend. You glance up at Professor Yang, who is also gathering his things. If he’s eavesdropping on the conversation, he certainly gives no sign of it.

“Really? I’ve never seen you so distracted. Maybe bring a coffee next week. He said he’ll allow drinks in the classroom.”

You sling your backpack over your shoulder, muttering under your breath. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Alright, now she’s awake!” Shinhye grabs her bag and leads the way.

As you follow her to the door, you peek over at Professor Yang again. He’s busying himself with unplugging his laptop from the projector, and he doesn’t even spare a glance your way as you exit the room. You hate the way your chest tightens, almost as if you’re disappointed.

You catch up to Shinhye and follow her to the dining hall to grab some brunch. Class was scheduled until noon but he dismissed early, stating that the four hour classes were only really necessary during the workshop half of the semester and you’ll likely be free to go around eleven until then.

You don’t exactly feel hungry, though, your stomach too full of nerves to desire any food. So you sit at the table with only a coffee, per Shinhye’s recommendation. You probably do need it, honestly.

“How old do you think Professor Yang is? He looks awfully young to be teaching at a university.” Shinhye tears into her omelette.

Well, he’s friends with Hwitaek, who you believe to be in his mid-twenties, so maybe he’s around there too? But you can’t bring any of that up without divulging exactly what had occurred between the two of you. “He does look pretty young.”

“He said he studied and worked as a luthier for the last ten years… I feel like he has to be in his late twenties at least, but he certainly doesn’t look it. Or maybe he just started his apprenticeship pretty young. I wonder if there’s an age requirement for that sort of thing?”

“A luthier?” You question, not familiar with the term.

Shinhye cocks her head. “Yeah, ______. A luthier. Professor Yang talked all about it. You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I guess not.” You chew your bottom lip. Your head really was somewhere else all morning.

Thankfully Shinhye fills you in without dragging you too much. “A luthier is someone who makes string instruments. Professor Yang explained all about how he did this luthier apprenticeship and how he specializes in making guitars when he’s not teaching.”

“That’s actually really cool,” you murmur. You imagine what he must look like playing guitar, or working with tools in the workshop, and you can’t help but feel impressed just picturing about it. A thought occurs to you, and you accidentally verbalize, “Oh that makes so much sense!”

“What does?”

You clamp your mouth shut. You can’t tell Shinhye that you understand now why his hands felt so rough when they slid under your dress, how you know exactly where each callous resides on his fingers. Somehow you manage to rescue yourself with, “It makes sense that he’s teaching something like this, you know, because obviously someone who has so much experience should be the one to teach the class. It’s just obvious. So like, it makes sense.”

Shinhye shakes her head slowly. “I just don’t get you.”

Maybe you’ll tell her one day. But it just seems unnecessary, especially because it’s bad news that you’ve ever been involved with a professor. The fewer people that know, the better.

After camping out in the restroom of the hotel for an appropriate amount of time, you finally gathered your wits about you and headed out into the wild once more. You had reasoned with yourself, finally coming to the conclusion that you were a grown(ish) woman who did not need to hide from boys. Instead, you would handle yourself like a true grown(ish) woman and boost your morale with a little (albeit illegal) liquid courage.

You headed straight for the bar, posting up there and chugging a glass of wine before immediately ordering another. Ah, to be a lady.

As you accepted your second glass, a voice next to you asked for a bourbon. You were thankful you did not have any wine in your mouth as you looked up to find none other than the most beautiful man in the world standing next to you - you definitely would have spit it out all over him. He smiled warmly at you, and if it didn’t feel like your knees were about to give out, you definitely would have sprinted back to the restroom, grown(ish) woman morale be damned.

He must have sensed your self-consciousness because he said with a laugh, “Please don’t run away from me again. I promise I don’t bite.”

You immediately squashed the thought of oh I wish you would, refusing to let that little gem slip past your lips. Instead you just took a long drink, completely unsure of what to say.

He wasn’t dissuaded by your silence, though, and you weren’t positive if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Leaning against the counter, he turned his body to face you, calm confidence pouring out from him in waves. “Your cousin said you wanted to dance with me, but that you might need some convincing. I’m not so persistent that I won’t take no for an answer, so if you say no I’ll leave you alone. But I thought I should at least try for a yes.”

The way his lips formed his words absolutely hypnotized you. How could a person be so stunning?

“I thought if nothing else, I might be able to at least have a conversation with you. I didn’t expect it to be quite so challenging, though. Usually it’s easy to get girls to talk to me.”

You snapped out of your dazed state with a laugh, your jaw dropping at his bold assertion. “That’s incredibly cocky of you to say, don’t you think?”

He shrugged casually. “It got you to talk, didn’t it?”

You took another sip, eyebrow raised. Touché.

“So what’s it going to take to get you to dance with me?” He smiled that beautiful, breathtaking smile of his, and it intoxicated you. Or maybe it was just the wine finally kicking in. Either way, you were hopeless. Looking away from you briefly, he accepted the short glass of amber liquid the bartender handed him, and you admired the strong line of his jaw and neck as he nodded his thanks.

Holding tightly onto your glass, you ripped your gaze from him before he could turn back to you and mulled over his inquiry. If you drank any more wine, it would probably be fairly easy for him to get you to dance, but you knew better than to spill those beans. So you respond to his question with a much safer answer: “Maybe a different DJ.”

He laughed warmly, and the sound of it turned your world upside down. “Yeah, he’s not great. Any wedding DJ that’s got ‘Y.M.C.A.’ on their playlist should not be a wedding DJ.”

You lifted your glass in agreement, intrigued. “I’ll drink to that. If you’re going to play something from the seventies, at least make it good. Give me some Marvin Gaye, or Donna Summer. Maybe a little Rufus with Chaka Khan for extra brownie points.”

His eyes tracked over your face as he clinked his glass against yours. “Some Earth, Wind and Fire, perhaps?”

Sucking air through your teeth, you squinted disapprovingly. “They can get a little campy.”

“Excuse you, ‘Boogie Wonderland’ is a classic.”

“About as classic as ‘Y.M.C.A.’” You snarked back at him, surprised by how at ease you were beginning to feel. The wine had definitely kicked in. Your brain felt warm and fuzzy, your limbs pleasantly tingly. “You know what’s cool?”

“Hm?” The glass in his hand met his lips and somewhere in the back of your mind you registered a touch of jealousy. Over a damn glass. What the literal shit.

You shook your head as quickly and minutely as possible to clear your thoughts and get back on track with what you wanted to say. “Um… Ah, wedding bands. Why don’t people hire bands anymore? Get some live music going. That’s awesome. That’s what’s good.”

“You’re really passionate about music, aren’t you?” Soft endearment coated his voice like honey, his sweet eyes scanning your face and making your heart flutter.

You nodded, shyness creeping up on you once again. He was miles out of your league, and it was honestly unreal that he’d even give you the time of day. Yet there he was, talking to you like you actually had a chance. Well… maybe you actually did.

An effortlessly sexy grin tugged at his lips. “So I know there’s not a wedding band tonight, and we’ve already established that this DJ kind of sucks… but is there any chance I could get you to dance with me despite all of that?”

And there it was - your chance. He could have very easily dropped the idea of dancing altogether after chatting with you and forming a more educated opinion of you. But the conversation must have gone okay because he still wanted to dance. And there he was, smiling all pretty and waiting for a response and you knew that you didn’t exactly have a choice when he looked at you that way.

“Let me finish this first.” Your voice sounded a lot more steady and confident than you expected, which left you pleasantly surprised with yourself.

“That’s fair.” He nodded and took a sip of his drink, finally looking away and giving you a chance to breathe. Changing the subject, he asked, “You here for the bride or groom? My guess is bride, since I haven’t seen you before.”

“Bride. She’s my cousin. And I’m guessing you’re with the groom, for obvious reasons.” You gestured to his tux, the symbol of his relationship to the groom.

“Perceptive,” he teased. “Yeah, he’s a long time friend of mine.”

With a big gulp of wine, you nodded. Almost done. You were really doing this. “They seem like a good pair. I hadn’t met Hwitaek until today - maybe thirty minutes ago, actually. But he seems like a good guy and she’s definitely happy.”

“Ah, right, I think I saw you meeting him.”

You froze up, remembering the awkward staring contest that followed your introduction to Hwitaek. With an uncomfortable chuckle, you spit out, “Right, I think you did.”

Now there was something more mischievous in his grin, and you knew he brought that up on purpose to see how you’d react. Pleased, he took another drink, and you were bewitched by the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I see them together a lot, and they’re a perfect match. Hwitaek is very good to Jiyoo, don’t worry. And she’s great, she fits right in with the whole lot of us.”

“That’s good to hear.” You were relieved that he didn’t linger on the subject - your life wasn’t over yet. So you smiled, finally on your last sip. You throw it back, and the warm buzz at the corners of your mind gave you the confidence you needed to place your empty glass on the bar counter and face him. “What’s your name?”

“Hongseok. Yours?” He smirked, effectively chipping away at your newfound courage, and finished off his own drink.

“_____.”

“_____,” he repeated your name, testing it out on his tongue, and it sounded absolutely wonderful. You needed to hear it once more, and you made it your personal goal to make him say it again before the end of the night. He held out his arm for you to take, stirring up the tipsy butterflies in your stomach. “Shall we?”

With a shaky inhale, you hooked your hand in the crook of his elbow, noting the way his bicep bulged. You were signing your life away for the night and you had absolutely no idea what you were getting yourself into.

Hongseok.

Professor Hongseok Yang.

You throw yourself back onto your bed, tossing your Physics of Musical Instruments syllabus to the floor. It’s been two days and you still haven’t come to terms with the pickle you’re in. The secret is eating you alive from the inside out, and you’re dying to talk about it.

Briefly, you even consider emailing Hong- no, Professor Yang, but you know you can’t just send incriminating emails over the school’s server. That would be about as bad of an idea as sleeping with your professor in the first place.

You’re trying not to chastise yourself too much about it. At the time, you had no idea he taught at your university. If you had, you definitely would have refused to visit his hotel room. You wouldn’t have even danced with him. You know how to behave responsibly, but you let yourself live a bit more freely that night and now you’re paying the price.

Maybe you needed to tell Shinhye after all. You just needed someone to know what you were dealing with, because it felt too burdensome for you to hold on your own. If just one person could know and understand-

Minseo.

Jumping to your feet, you scramble out to the living room and tear up your desk in search of your cell phone. When you finally found the device, you immediately video call your beloved cousin.

She answers after a few rings. “What’s up, boo?”

You almost start crying, already feeling relieved just by having her on the line. “Minseoooo! Are you alone right now?”

“Yeah, I’m at my apartment. You okay?” She frowns, peering closely at her screen.

You push your hair back with a sigh. How do you say this? “I’ve made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.”

“What is it?”

“Remember the groomsman from Jiyoo’s wedding?”

As soon as you mention him, her eyes grow wide. She covers her mouth, but not enough to muffle her words. “Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“What? No!” You shake your head emphatically. “No, I swear I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh thank God, because that would be just the worst.”

She’s right, though; that would be the actual worst case scenario. Your current situation might be bad, but at least there’s no fetus involved. With that bit of perspective, you proceed a bit more calmly. “So… it turns out that the groomsman teaches at my university. And I’m taking his class.”

Minseo stares at her phone for a moment, and then suddenly bursts into laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me. For real?”

“For real.”

More laughter. “What are the odds of that? Jesus. You finally get laid for the first time since high school and it’s with your fucking teacher…”

Her lighthearted response actually makes you feel better, and you let yourself laugh about it too. “It’s crazy, right?”

“Insane!” Her black cat poked her head into the frame, and Minseo scratched her between her ears. “So wait, what happened? How did class go? Has he said anything about it?”

“He didn’t say a word, and neither did I. He basically ignored me all through class. And I think it’s a good thing? But also I kind of want to just talk about it? Because I feel like it’s going to be incredibly awkward if we have to go through the whole semester without even addressing it.”

“You should say something to him, then. Just tell him that you’re not going to say anything about what happened, and tell him that you want him to treat you normally. I mean, that’s what you want, right?”

You nod. “Right. I should probably do that, as uncomfortable as it may be.”

Minseo tilts her head, looking at you endearingly. “You can handle it. You’re a strong little lady. You just have to believe it.”

Finally, a relieved exhale leaves you. “Minseo, I feel so much better now that you know. I haven’t told anyone here about what happened and it was killing me.”

“I’m glad I could help. You should probably keep it a secret at school, though. Word can really spread fast across a campus.” Her cat meows quietly in agreement.

“Good plan. This stays between you and me.” You hold up your little finger as if to make a pinky promise, and she follows suit.

“Our little secret.”

The first days of the rest of your classes all pale in comparison to that eventful Tuesday morning. Physics of Musical Instruments is your only class in the science building, so thankfully you don’t have to worry about accidentally passing him every other day of the week. That should also be your most difficult class this semester, with a required writing class and second levels of aural skills and music theory making up the rest of your schedule. Add in your weekly piano lessons and R&B Ensemble practices, and you’ve got a lot on your hands. But you’re generally looking forward to your sophomore year, regardless of the whole mess with Professor Yang.

And it really doesn’t need to be a mess, anyway. You’ll have your chat with him, you can both move on, and it’ll all be moot in the end. At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you head into the weekend, knowing full well you’ll have to face him again in a matter of days and it won’t be easy.

Saturday afternoon is the music department’s convocation for the start of the semester. You take a seat in the auditorium of the music building, the ensemble on stage providing the entertainment as students file in. It’s the pride of the otherwise average music department, the upperclassman Jazz Ensemble, which you hope you’ll be accepted into next school year. If you do well with your own ensemble this year, you could definitely stand a chance. Besides, the current keyboardist will be graduating at the end of the school year, so there will definitely be an open spot waiting for you.

A familiar looking boy approaches you, all cheekbones and bright eyes. “Hi, can I sit there?” He gestures to the seat next to you, and you nod, standing to let him squeeze past you. When you’re both seated, he says, “I think I saw you in theory and aural skills, right?”

That’s why he looks so familiar! “Oh, yes! I remember you. Hi.” You greet him warmly, glad to have a fellow classmate to keep you company.

“I’m Kino.” He extends his hand to you. “Sophomore, studying voice and dance.”

“______, piano.” You shake his hand, and he smiles sweetly. “Also a sophomore.”

“Nice to meet you, officially.” Kino drops his backpack onto the floor between his legs and looks up at the stage. “Wow, Jazz Ensemble never disappoints.”

“You’ve got that right. You should have heard the Thelonious Monk tune they played before this one. They killed it.”

“I can believe that.” He looks over at you. Does he ever stop smiling? “Are you in any ensembles this semester?”

“Yeah, R&B.”

“No way! Me, too!” He laughs, and the sound of it is warm and pure. “I hardly convinced them to let me join, though. Being a double major keeps me really busy, but I was desperate to get into an ensemble this year.”

You laugh too, enjoying the way he makes you feel at ease. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then.”

“Sounds like it.”

The auditorium doors close as the last of the students scramble into seats, and you clap as the ensemble finishes their last song, a Miles Davis classic. One day it’ll be you on that stage. One day you’ll get to really make your mark.

The meeting itself isn’t really anything special. It’s mostly just to welcome everyone to a new school year and explain the basic requirements of a music major. Each semester you must attend no less than five student performances, but that’s nothing intimidating to you. You love going to student performances, so you’ll likely have all five knocked out before you reach the second half of the semester.

Toward the end of the meeting, the head of the department announces that he would like to introduce the new staff for the year. Three new professors file out from the wing, and you bite down on your lip to prevent your jaw from dropping, shocked to see Professor Yang among them. Why is he here? He’s in the science department, not music.

He is the first to step up to the microphone to introduce his class, and your heart just about jumps out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hello everyone, I’m Professor Yang. Although I’m not technically a part of the music department, I have a feeling you may all find an interest in my course, Physics of Musical Instruments. It will help fulfill half of your required science credits while still allowing you to explore music. In my course you will not only learn the science of scales, tonality, and sound waves, but you will also be given the opportunity to build your own instrument. I’m very grateful to be able to share my knowledge of instruments and sound with you. My class for this semester filled up very quickly, so please keep an eye out for it when you’re preparing your schedules for next semester. Thank you, and I look forward to seeing you in class.”

He is so professional, and you’re taken aback by how different he is in a professional setting. At the wedding he was so carefree, although he certainly carried the same amount of confidence. Regardless, your pulse is getting out of control the longer you watch him, and you’re so thankful for the cloak of darkness in the auditorium.

Kino leans over toward you, whispering lowly, “That class sounds awesome!”

You just nod, fixated on Professor Yang. He’s dressed a bit more casually today, wearing a pair of snug fitting jeans with his partially unbuttoned button-down, a v-neck shirt peeking out from the space where the button-down separates at his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up, just like they were at the wedding. It would feel so good to rip off those clothes, to hear the buttons of his shirt break off and fall to the floor as you strip him. The thought sends searing heat through you, and you nonchalantly cross your legs. Yes, this semester is definitely going to be a tough one for you.

Kino takes off as soon as the assembly ends, blurting that he has to get to his dance department’s convocation. And as you eventually make your way out of the auditorium, you’re thankful that you’re on your own.

Professor Yang is in the lobby, chatting with another faculty member as students filter past. And for absolutely no reason at all, he happens to look in your direction just as you notice him. He looks at you long and hard with a completely unreadable expression, and you gaze back, trying to keep your face similarly neutral. Trying not to let him see how badly affected you are just to be in the same room as him. Trying to pretend that you don’t wish you could get him naked again, feel his body on yours again.

You may never know if you are successful in controlling your features. You pull your eyes from him long before you can pick up on any clues and bolt for the door, simultaneously relieved and saddened to know he will not follow you.

Hongseok led you to the dance floor and pulled you around to face him. The DJ was still doing a terrible job, but with his hand on your waist and alcohol buzzing through your veins, you managed to find it within you to dance. You swayed your hips, bopping to the beat, your hands eventually coming to rest on his broad shoulders.

His hands grew more and more adventurous in their placement with each song that passed. You didn’t mind one bit, enjoying the way he casually explored your back, thighs, and neck. Your own hands slid down over his muscled chest and abdomen, which you could clearly feel even through his layers of clothing. If only you could touch his skin…

You were completely taken by him, heart pounding pleasantly in your chest as warmth spread throughout your body. Why had you been so afraid before? Everything had turned out to be nothing short of wonderful. Even if it stopped at dancing and went no further (which was exactly what you expected to happen), you still could leave knowing you had a great time with an incredibly hot guy that you could fantasize about later to your heart’s content.

You still couldn’t believe that he would even give you the time of day, yet there he was, dancing far too close for your feeble heart to handle - not that you were complaining. His features were even more striking up close; you could easily memorize the straight line of his nose, the exact shape of his lips, the curve of his chin. You didn’t know what you had done in a previous life to deserve his attention, but you were endlessly thankful.

As elated as you were to be there with him, though, you couldn’t help but wonder how he really felt, what exactly he thought about you. After all, it’s not like he had just walked up to you of his own accord. Surely it was all your cousin’s doing and no true luck of your own. “Hongseok?”

“_____?”

You nearly shiver at the sound of your name. “Are you only dancing with me because my cousin asked you to?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to decipher the true meaning behind your questioning. “Yes and no.”

“Okay?”

The DJ played a slower song next, and Hongseok took the opportunity to pull you up against him, wrapping his arm around your waist and taking your hand in his. His fingers were rough and calloused, but gentle as they wrapped around your hand. “You didn’t really seem too eager to talk to me after you met Hwitaek, so I wasn’t going to bother you.”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry from nerves. You had almost ruined this for yourself, and you had no idea.

He continued his explanation. “So technically yes, it was your cousin’s idea that convinced me to say something to you. But if I hadn’t wanted to dance with you, I would have told her no. I wouldn’t have even asked you if I wasn’t interested.”

Thoughts manifested into words before you could stop them, and you cursed your intoxicated tongue. “Interested… in me? Like, you think I’m cute, or something?”

“You could say that.” His laugh brought a smile to your face. “What about you? Do you think I’m cute, or something?”

You should have cut yourself off after the second glass of wine. You didn’t drink often, and you didn’t have much of a tolerance, as made evident by the shameless, bold compliment that spilled from your lips. “Cute? You’re beautiful and I am very attracted to you.”

You only caught a hint of his charming smile before he pulled you in even tighter and lowered his mouth until it brushed the cusp of your ear. Gravelly undertones lined the edges of his voice as he murmured, “I don’t want to cause a scene - this is a family affair, after all - so I’m going to have to let you do your own thing for the rest of the night. But I want you to know that I am incredibly attracted to you, and I need you to find your way upstairs to room 417 after we send off the happy couple. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded without hesitation, speechless at his incredibly forward instructions, your alcohol-dulled mind still able to piece together the implications of his invitation. Damn all of your fears and concerns; Hongseok was a dream and you’d never forgive yourself if you passed on the chance that had been afforded you. Come hell or high water, you would get to room 417. How could you say no? Surely your sober self would thank your tipsy self for it later.

“Great.” His low, sensual voice filled you, his breath tickling your ear as he straightened up and released you. With a wink, he disappeared into the throng of partygoers, and you nibbled at your bottom lip as you wobbled towards your table. You needed to collapse into your chair, unable to hold yourself up after the assault of his charms.

Before you could reach the table, though, you spotted Minseo, and steered yourself in her direction instead. You grabbed onto her arm, ripping her from the rest of your cousins.

“Please don’t kill me, I swear I was only trying to do you a favor.” She misinterpreted your excitement as aggression, flinching when you leaned in.

“No, I love you, you’re the best, I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I think I’m gonna get laid tonight.” You giggled to yourself, feeling warm and airy. “He told me to go up to his room later.”

“There you go, girl!” She whacked your arm playfully, looking you up and down. “Go get it and then give me all the details tomorrow because honestly he’s gorgeous and I just have to know what’s going on under those clothes.”

“Ohmygod me tooooo…” you drawled. You were losing your mind just thinking about it. “Oh, um, hey, can you cover for me? I’m gonna tell my parents I’m spending the night at your place.”

She nodded, and then her face lit up. “Better idea! Let’s get our own room upstairs. Then you can come to our room after.”

You blinked owlishly. “Right.”

Minseo caught onto your hesitation. “Unless you plan on actually staying the night?”

“...No? Because… sleeping over… would that be weird?”

“Probably. I’m guessing he’ll just want to hook up and be done with it. So we should go see if there are any rooms available. Yeah?”

Minseo had a good point; it could get weird if you tried to overstay your welcome, so having another room to retreat to would be the best course of action. You came to the wedding with your parents, so you wouldn’t be able to get yourself home if you stayed at the hotel longer than everyone else. And you wouldn’t expect Minseo to leave her apartment and drive all the way back to pick you up after... You nodded and squeezed her hand. “Okay, that’s a good plan. Did I tell you you’re the best?”

“You might have mentioned it.” She started leading you by the hand towards the lobby. “Let’s go get that room and then head back to the bar before you chicken out.”

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Part 2 will be posted Friday at 8pm.

Update | Read Part 2 here!

All Rights Reserved © gwentory. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

THIS FIC IS REPOSTED FROM MY ORIGINAL BLOG, GWENTORY. All future content (including HFT Part 4 and onward) will only be posted on GWENTORYFICS. Thank you!

[buckysforeverprincess]

Thanks For The Memories - Pt. 1

Steve Rogers x Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Words: 3658

Warning: Language, break up, angst, minor character death

A/N: This is a 3 part thing I wrote where Steve breaks the readers heart, and the they see each other years later. Secrets come out and the truth revealed, but will it be enough for them to find a way back to each other? Enjoy.

“What part of ‘I don't love you’ do you not understand, Y/N?!” The tall muscular blond standing in front of you asks. “I don't think I ever did!”  

You're sitting on the bed of your shared apartment, tears running down your face, flowing like a wild river. “Why, Steve? What did I do? You can't be serious, throwing away everything we ha-“

“What we had was a lie!” Steve angrily interrupts. “I've spent the better part of our relationship living a lie! Do you know how many times I faked a look, or a kiss? When we were out with friends I had to pretend I was having a good time, but really, I wasn't! If only you would have stayed away, I could've had fun, but no…you had to always come along and never gave me space. Seriously, everything about you is suffocating!” Steve begins fiercely throwing some clothes in a bag, never once looking your way.  

There's nothing you can do but cry. His words cut you like a knife. Everything he said must be the truth because no one would ever talk to someone they loved like that. Steve was not in love with you...never had been and at this point, never will be.  

“I'm going to Sam's.” Steve’s bag is packed with his necessary items.

Your ex isn't making eye contact with you, hell, he's not even looking at you. “I'll be back in a week, this is my apartment. I hope you'll be gone by then!”

That's the last thing Steve ever said to you before he grabbed his bag and walked out the door, finalizing the last five years of your life.  

Six years later…

You wiped the tears of that memory from your cheeks as you drive through the streets of Brooklyn. Home, but not your home. You haven't been back here since you left six years ago, and if it weren't for the phone call from Nat, you wouldn't be heading back there either.  

The drive from Atlanta had been long, and you were tired and worn out. All kinds of memories and emotions had come flooding back in and it had taken over the silence in the car. Your driving buddy was not a wealth of information or entertainment, choosing to either sleep or play on his tablet to avoid the boredom of the drive.  

“Almost there! You ready to see auntie Nat?” You we're looking at your son through the rear-view mirror.

“Does she have waffles?” His mind going directly to food, the kid eats like a tank.

“I'm pretty sure she does. She knows just how much you love them!” You smile, and he accepts this answer, attention going right back to the tablet in front of him. He really is no help at all.

Pulling up to the brownstone, you find a parking spot and put the car in park. “James, were here!”

The boy looks up and takes in the scenery outside the car. “This is Brooklyn?” You can see the disappointment on his face. “It ain't Atlanta. What a shitty place to grow up!”

Your mouth drops, and you gasp at the words the five-year-old blurted out. “James Samuel! What the fuck?!” Your own scolding just as profane as his.

“Sorry, mom…,” he lowers his head, “but aunt Nat said this was a shitty town and she's happy, but unhappy you left!”

You laughed this time as he used the same ‘shitty’ word again obviously repeating what he had heard. Nat had a way with words and your son was picking up on the redhead’s bad habits. It’s a good thing you loved her…anyone else and you probably would have chastised them something fierce for teach your son foul shit.

“Ok…no more bad language words!” 

Your son nods his head in defeat. “Yes, mom…I'm sorry.” James genuinely looks apologetic, and you accept his plea.

Looking around you decide it's time to face the reality and get to the reason for this visit. “Alright, champ…let's get out and go see aunt Nat!”

James’ face turns to sheer excitement, and you both exit the car and meet each other on the sidewalk. You grab his hand and walk up the steps, knocking on the door and standing nervously as you waited for your friend to greet you from the other side.

Your little boy can hardly contain himself waiting for Nat to answer the door. He could hear the dog bark when you knocked and remembered the promise from Clint about being introduced to Lucky.

“What's taking so long?” James says after only a few seconds.

“Patience, young Jedi. Don't let yourself be tempted by the ways of the dark side. Trust in the force, and all will be revealed.” James loved it when turned everything into a Star Wars reference. Your son was such a sci-fi nerd.

“He is not ready!” Nat spoke as she opened the door. James didn't know if he should smile or frown at her words. “I sense a terrible weight within you. The force is strong, but yet...the darkness calls.” She bends down and starts tickling your son and the boy erupts in laughter.

“Stop, stop!” He cries out, but she continues, showing him no mercy.  

It's heartwarming, watching the two of them. When you left years ago, you thought your best friend would hate you. Time has proven differently, and she's been with you through everything possible, no matter the distance between you.

Nat finally lets him go and stands up to give you a hug. “It's good to have you home!”

“It's only a short stay, we talked about this.” You break the hug and Nat shakes her head.

“This will always be your home.” She moves to the side letting you and James enter the house and out of the Brooklyn air.

“Y/N! James!” The male voice comes running in from parts unknown, followed by a very excited Labrador.

“Uncle Clint!” James runs to him, Clint bending down to scoop up the child, arms wrapping around each other.

“I missed you buddy!”

“Did you buy me a dog?” All the adults laugh in unison at the innocence of the child.

“Sure, buddy, but he has to stay here with me and aunt Nat. So that means you'll have to come visit, or he won't remember you.”

You scrunch your face at the man, and he gives you his best shit eating grin. “Well played ass hat…well played.” Neither Nat or Clint ever give up trying to get you to move back home.

“Come on! Let's go play with Lucky and give the ladies a chance to talk.” Clint grabs James’ hand and walks with him and Lucky through the house, most likely heading to the back yard.

“Shall we go to the living room?” Natasha quips.

“Yes, lets!” You respond, never missing a beat. The two of you have been best friends since elementary school. You were practically in each other's heads.

Sitting down in her living room you had a clear view to the outside from the patio doors. James was in good hands, so you weren't worried about him at all, but it doesn’t mean you wanted to lose sight of your son. Clint and Natasha wouldn't ever let any harm come to that little boy, which made it hard for either of them to leave when they would come and visit you in Atlanta. They were the constant in your life, and now the only family you had.  

“How are you holding up?”

Nat sits down next to you holding out a cup of coffee. You didn't ask her for it, but she figured you probably needed it after the long drive home.

You shrug your shoulders and let out a breath, “I really have no one left. No one except James, and I plan on wrapping him up in a blanket and living as a nomad for the rest of our lives, in a cabin somewhere desolate and secluded.”

Nat laughs at your over dramatic description. “So, over the top!”

You scoff at her and roll your eyes. You always miss the back and forth banter you have with her. “I'm doing ok...I just can't believe this happened. She told me the surgery was just a regular procedure, I didn't have to come home, and she'd call me after. Never expected she'd code and flatline.” Tears had started to develop and began to fall from your eyes.

“No one did, but I'm glad I was there before hand, despite her stubbornness. She kept telling me to go home, but I told her you'd divorce me as best friend and I just could throw away so many years of fuckery because she was being a shit, so she agreed I could stay.” Nat smiles at the recent memory and it warms your heart.  

“Well thank you for that, and for taking care of the arrangements. The funeral is on Friday?” You ask, taking a sip of the still warm coffee.

Nat gives you a nod. “Yes, I've taken care of everything I can. You just have to sign papers to release her. That's something only a blood relative can do. Once that's done the funeral home will take care of the rest. The only thing we have to do is show up. Oh, there's a viewing before…. just an hour early. I didn't think you'd want too much more time before, is that ok?” Nat is sporting a questioning look, but in reality, she knows you better than anyone.

“Of course, it is. I really appreciate it…thank you.” You set the cup on the table and lean in to give her a tear-filled hug.  

“She was pretty much my mother too.” You could hear Natasha say through her own tears that have finally made their way to the surface. “She was the only one I had...there isn't anything I wouldn't do for her...or you.”  

The two of you sat in a silent hug, gripping each other for a moment in time that could go on forever, but was interrupted by a ball hitting the patio door; startling you both, and an eager five-year-old running to grab it.

“Sorry!” James yells, picking up the ball and runs back to Clint and Lucky. You both let out a laugh, as the moment is done and are now back to the here and now of the day.  

“So, you do know everyone will be there, right?”

That thought had not escaped your mind and you gave her a nod. “Yes.”

Nat looks at you, her stare gaining a little in intensity. “Everyone.”

Your best friend baiting you, it won't work. “Figured.” You kept your answer short.

“Including Steve.”

Ah, there it is. She never disappoints. You shrug your shoulders and she rolls her eyes at you.

“How do you suppose you'll handle that?”

You give her a sarcastic scoff. “The same way he handled me.”  

By the immediate change in her now scrunched up face, you can tell she is not impressed with you at all. “He's bound to find out. What do you plan to do when that happens?”

That was the question that had been running through your mind for six years. The truth is, you really had no idea what you were going to do. Steve left you so heartbroken and dead inside, you didn't know how to tell him he was a father. Why would he want anything to do with his son since he never loved you in the first place?

“Well, I guess we'll find out. I'm not seeking him out, nor will I cause a scene, but I can't be worried about Steve's feelings when I'm here burying my mother. If he gets his ass chapped about it, oh well. He broke my heart, and I've had to live with that every day since I found out I was pregnant. You know it hasn't been easy, especially knowing James wasn't conceived because Steve was in love with me. Clearly, he was only fucking me out of a sense of obligation. So again, his feelings no longer matter.” Nat just stares at you, shaking her head.  

“Ok!” Nat finally break the silence. “Enough of this talk, let's order some pizza and then we'll head to the hospital. James can stay here with Clint. I think Bucky's coming over tonight? Said he couldn't wait to meet his namesake!”

You grab the now empty cups and head to the kitchen, “I'm surprised he hasn't told Steve about him!” You shouted to her from the sink.

“Yeah well, I may have threatened his balls, and he says he pretty attached to them, so he promised to keep it a secret!” Leave it to Nat to find a person's weakness and exploit it.

Walking into the funeral home hadn't been easy for you. The last time you had to do this was in Atlanta six years ago, doing this same exact thing for your father. You weren't on good terms with him when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer or when he passed; he'd left you and your mother in Brooklyn when you were twelve and barely gave you the time of day, so leaving to go be with him before he died was an internal struggle you held to this day. That decision was made easier when your then boyfriend said those words that still played on repeat in your head daily. You would never forget them no matter how many years had gone by.

As Natasha had said, the viewing began an hour before the service and people started to file in, paying their last respects to the woman who had meant so much, to so many. Clint handed you a travel pack of tissues, knowing you'd need it for the water works that were bound to eventually flow from your eyes and you couldn’t be happier at how astute he really was.

“Y/N! It's so good to see you!” Sam exclaimed, leaning in and giving you a tight hug. “I've missed you beautiful.” He says in your ear, low enough for only you to hear and you were thankful for that.

“I've missed you too…it's been way too long.”

The man nods in agreement and gives you a halfcocked grin. “Yes, it has. Talking on the phone just isn't enough anymore. I hope this means you'll be taking up residence here again...you know this is home, and we're your family. We can't just let you leave to deal with this on your own.” He's giving you a stern look, like a teacher scolding a student.  

“Sam…”

“Don't Sam, me!” He interrupted, but his voice remaining very calm. “You know he's here…and once he sees you and James, he'll fight for you to stay.” You roll your eyes at your friend, unimpressed by his talk of Steve. “I'm also not saying forgive him…but, maybe you should hear his side. Don't make a hasty decision until you have all the variables.”

God, you wish you could hate this man, but you can't. Sam's always been the more sensible one of your friends, giving you solace when Nat’s words weren't enough. “You're a good egg, Sam.”

He laughs at your attempt to lighten the mood. “Hard boiled, or scrambled?” Asking through his continued laugh.

“Both!” You leaned in and hugged him again, before parting ways so you could welcome more guests.

It wasn't long before the one person you wanted to avoid came into view, and you instantly stiffened up in panic. Steve was still very much the same tall, blond, handsome guy he had been when you left. Even through his white shirt button up shirt and black suit jacket, you could see the definition of his muscles. The only thing that had visibly changed in the past six years was his face. It was thinner, more defined. Steve had aged well and taken care of himself since you left. Of course, he did. He was probably out there screwing all of Brooklyn, he needed to be in tip top shape.

“Careful, doll…,” you hear the voice in your ear, “don't let him catch you staring. He might see that as an invitation.” Bucky's smirking next to you.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “An invitation it's not, but you...on the other hand...I've had my eye on you for days now…,” you turned to face him, “why am I not in your bed?”

Bucky laughed at your question. “Because of that man right there!” He's pointing at Steve who's now making his way over to the casket. “I don't care what happened or what he said to you. He lied, and he's never gotten over you. So, no…I won't be bedding you, even though I most certainly want to.” The brunette kisses you softly on your forehead.

There had always been an attraction between the two of you, but James Barnes was known for breaking hearts and yours was one he never wanted to hurt, so you kept everything at a platonic level; with an extra heavy dose of flirting and pushing each other's limits as much as possible. Steve was never bothered by it when you two were together, knowing there were some lines that would never be crossed. This banter was something you had been missing from your life since you'd been gone.

“Don't look now…,” Bucky brings you from your thoughts, “looks like we have trouble on the horizon.”

You look over at the casket and Steve is bent down talking to a child...your child. “Shit! I was not ready for this!” You take in a deep breath.

“Relax…,” Bucky places a hand on your back hoping to calm your nerves, “go...and stay calm.”

Nodding your head, you knew this was going to happen, you just didn't expect it to come to a head this soon.  

As you walked over to them, time seemed to stand still. Even though it was only seconds, it felt like an eternity; watching the rather innocent interaction between father and son. Both blonde’s facing each other, lost in conversation, facial expressions matching with ease. It's how you would have wanted things to be if life had been different, but life has never been kind to you. It certainly won't be now.  

“James…,” you say on approach and both of their attentions are now on you, “is everything ok?”

Steve has now stood up and is facing you, his expression very unreadable.

“Mom, this is Steve…he's my dad!” The five-year-old says matter of factly like it was just another day.

You smile and nod at his direct approach knowing there was no way out of this moment and you would have to face the music. “So, it would seem. Are you sure?”

Steve inhales a breath but still doesn't speak.  

“I know he's my dad, you showed me pictures...and you said he lives here!” James’ five-year-old brain is working overtime processing everything you've ever told him about Steve. You've always been honest with him about his father's existence, just not why he's never met him.  

“So now that we've met, I can keep him, right? You said he'd want me if we ever ran into him, so now we have!”

Damn his astute little brain. This was not how this was supposed to go. The kid was a genius, turning things to his advantage and was too smart for his own good. Looks like you'll have to bite the bullet on this one, taking the full force of the hit. No turning back now.

“Perhaps the adults should talk now, sweetheart. I think uncle Bucky needs a James sized hug. Can you do that for me?”

You look over and Bucky is motioning for his namesake to join him. James lets out a sigh and gives you a pout, turning away without so much as a word and running into Bucky's outstretched arms.

Steve stands there watching the entire thing stoically, processing everything that has happened in the few short moments since his arrival. You know he has questions, but this was not the time for them. The last thing you need is a scene at the funeral home in front of anyone that's ever known you or your mother.  

“I have a-”

“Let me stop you right there!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. “Not here, not now. You have questions, I got answers, but they wait until after this is finished...understand?” You look at him sternly and you can see him swallow and exhale a breath you're pretty sure he didn't know he was holding.

Steve nods in agreement but doesn't look happy that you're not discussing the issue right now.  

“Good! I have to go, but…,” you look over towards your son still hanging out with Bucky, sitting on his lap playing some unknown game on his phone, “James, I'm sure he told you his name is James. He's five. His favorite color is blue, and he has a turtle named ‘Snape’. He loves pepperoni pizza, waffles and fish tacos and hates all green vegetables. Those are the basics, and all I can give you at this time. And, you should probably sit close by. Now that he's seen you, he'll want to sit by you. He's a people person and since you are his people…”  

You turned away from Steve and made your way back to greeting the many people that came to pay their respects to your mom.

This is what you didn’t want, but knew you’d have to face. Everything needed to come out at this point, and nothing could be left unsaid. It wasn’t just about you and Steve and more. James had finally met the man who was his father, and that would be the hardest thing to separate. Brooklyn was no longer your home anymore. Steve would be hard-pressed to ever change that.  

Part 2