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nc-vb · 10 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

I just wanted to write something so we could touch his lil hip windows, ok... just once...

pairing -> sampo x gn!reader

warnings -> sfw, no pronouns or names used (reader is called "chief" by the kids), description of frostbite (skin type-inclusive), non-sexual intimacy & non-sexual nudity.

notes -> love me a big n beefy dummy with hip windows. also if anyone’s familiar with salvatore ferragamo’s cologne collection, yeah, this is how i imagine Sampo smells. soooo good. also, frostbite really sucks, so pls always dress according to the weather! (advice i give in the middle of Canadian summer…) -> for most skin types, frostbite will make it turn purplish, so i’ve left things ambiguous as best as i can ;-;

wc -> 4.6k

There’s only so much time in a day you’d ever allot towards thumb-twiddling and pooch-screwing. With all your responsibilities pulling each of your limbs in all different directions at all times of the day, you’d already overextended yourself far past what the definition of “comfortability” supplied— taking breaks? Out of the question. You’d been lucky enough to fit in even five minutes to eat a proper meal or two each day, leaving you little else room to be able to drop the ball.

Life in Belobog already made sure for you that being comfortable was the last item on your daily itinerary to address. Being reliable, being helpful, and supplying for those either less fortunate or less able than yourself, is what has always mattered. And doing so on a timely basis has always been important to you. Natasha’s patients, nor the miners you’d been a ward for, couldn’t afford to wait. And since taking up the mantle, you’d always managed to make good on any promises made, making this the very first time you’d ever been tardy. Five minutes is acceptable. Even a half an hour. But two hours late for your delivery? It certainly isn’t your fault. And anyone who knows you well enough would find only concern for such a change in character.

“… g-gatekeeping c-c-conman… d-damn it.” You dip your chin further into your scarf and blow, the hot air warming your chest for but a moment. “C-Could’ve taken me with him this time, but n-no… Gotta play b-both sides… m-make me wait in the c-cold like this…”

You tell yourself you should’ve known better at least every other time you’re left waiting for him out front your shack of a home— somehow, it’s even colder on the inside, like being incapsulated by one of the ice needles decorating the outskirts of Belobog, and so, you wait for him on your stoop, clad in the thickest clothing within your possession and blowing temporary heat into your bare palms.

It isn’t like Sampo Koski to not show up late to a party, or a meeting, or a goods exchange, probably even to use the bathroom— really, expecting anything different of him so late in your acquaintanceship is no more unintelligent than believing he’d go cold turkey and abandon his usual backhanded underhandedness for tactics a little more honest. Then again, the man still owes you nearly three thousand Shield from almost a month ago, and has almost every excuse in the book prepared in order to stall in paying it back…

He’s always late. He’s never not been late. But he’s never been this late.

Beneath your chilled bones and deep within your chest, something pulses with worry. Worry? I’m worried?

Maybe. Maybe because, with all his usual fooling around done up in the Overworld, he’d finally gotten caught by those Silvermane Guards— a great cause for your concern considering this would mean losing your intermediary between Belobog’s attic and its basement; having Sampo take care of your shipments lifted a massive weight off your back while you managed your other responsibilities, and in exchange, his debts owed to you slowly knocked themselves away. This would be bad news for sure, losing such a valuable partner. But somewhere along the line, things blurred, and eventually, it was no longer just business that you spoke of with him.

A funny joke or two he’d heard while up in the Overworld that he couldn’t not share with you. An incident he’d missed that was too entertaining not to share with him. A new treat you’d made for the kids of Hook’s adventure squad that’d been devoured in seconds, and the fact that you’d managed to save a couple for him to try.

Despite how easily insufferable he could be, he’d become a friend, one you found yourself silently fretting over, even after his return. And losing your friend is not the business agreement you’d made with him.

Or is it more than friendship…

The longer you sit in the cold, the more glaringly obvious the possibility of this actually having happened, is. He’s usually quite cautious, a grand coward if you’d ever known one; protecting his own hide has always been priority number one. So, you know he can run away just fine; you know those regular old Silvermane Guards wouldn’t be able to get him on their own, so was it Gepard? Or that Bronya woman? Sure, Sampo’s strong, himself, but against either of those two?

Your stomach clenches at the thought.

What if the half-hearted promise of being careful was the last thing you’d heard from him, after all? What if you’d never get a chance to have his infectious enthusiasm rub off on you, or never again hear about a business venture gone hilariously wrong? No more little bags of your favourite Overworld bonbons brought back as a souvenir, the ones the two of you would share together before the fire, and fight over when it came time for who got to have the last of the best kind?

“Sampo…” You pull your knees a little tighter into your chest, lips tucked into them and trembling into a frown.

Inhaling deeply, you release the breath just as fast, appearing as a white cloud before your lips. The frost that normally seeps through the border between Belobog’s two worlds is bitter enough, but on either end, all its people suffered from the unavoidably devastating chill contained within its atmosphere during the more wintery months. It says a lot considering it’s practically winter all the time, only less so in certain regions. But no one would be spared by it, and no amount of extra layering could possibly quell it— this, you learned quite quickly as a child.

Before Belobog’s Supreme Guardian made the decision to split apart the world into two hemispheres, your family had been prominent figures of Belobog society, known of in equal regard by those in the Overworld and those in the Underworld. Even after the Fragmentum managed to take the lives of those in your family —sparing you, for no easily explainable reason — you swore to honour them and the people of Belobog through provisional access.

When an entrance was found not too long after the segregation process began, additional supply trading reopened past what the Overworld provided— unliveable quantities of food and medical supplies that had innocents suffering. Despite your, at the time, young age, you’d realized that if you hadn’t survived the Fragmentum attack, this trade opportunity might not have been possible. “There’s power in a name,” Sampo once told you. “That’s why I’ve never lied when asked about mine!”

Now, you huff out a laugh at the memory of you asking if he’d been sure it wasn’t actually his ego, and pause upon recognizing how off-course your thoughts had gotten. Your point is, back when life was more comfortable and of less ache and agony, you could afford to fuel your fireplace, and there was no shortage of warmth. The arms of your family that would hold you were hot to the touch from having stood only a couple of feet from flickering flames; blankets were whole and left unpatched and thereby let no cold in— things are different now. With the last of your available firewood, your makeshift campfire stopped burning about an hour ago, and your last blanket, barely left in one piece, absorbed too much chill in the air and barely served well enough as a cushion beneath your frozen rear, you’ve been sitting for far too long, waiting for someone who might not even be coming back…

“… tired,” you mumble to yourself. You can feel yourself slipping, not just along the blanket, but into what your brain manages to suspect is hypothermia. “Sampo…”

Before your body completely gives out on you and your eyes shut all the way, you hear fast-moving scuffling coming from behind you — footsteps — that reaches you in time to catch you by your shoulders.

You jolt, from the contact, and from the pain the contact brings— like you’d been pricked by a handful of Natasha’s syringes, or like being electrocuted, all in one concentrated area. A sound no less like a yowl of a cat escapes you, and your glossed-over eyes widen as far as your face’s frozen muscles allow.

“I’m… really late this time… aren’t I,” a familiar voice realizes, tone unquestioning of his words. He doesn’t have to be in your vision to know whose voice it is, but he graces you anyway, leaning over and around your shoulder so that him and his head of violet hair take up almost ninety percent of it.

You’re stiff. If not for the cold freezing your frown in place, you don’t think you could muster a glare for him otherwise. Stare lidded and eyebrows furrowed; cold-paled, downturned, chapped lips spread thin into a line so taut, a split of red forms down the middle of them. His own lips part, his grimace deepening.

“Bit,” you answer, and the blanket wrapped around your shoulders falls away, your fingers finally too burnt to hold it up any longer. Beneath it, you’d been wearing a thick, woollen sweater, with two other layers under it, and two pairs of pants. Your scarf hadn’t nearly been as thick as your sweater, nor did it really do its job of keeping your neck warm, and your winter socks had been worn out from use for almost two seasons now. You suppose that’s what happens when you become your last priority.

Sampo winces when his gaze falls on the fingers poking out from the sleeves of your sweater. Purpling, ashy skin, particularly on the backs of your hands— he watches you struggle to unclench them, to try to straighten them out, only for your skin to pale from a lack of blood flow. Instantly, Sampo is down on a knee, his own chilled hands coming up to stop you from making yours worse.

“Easy there, pal,” he says, a nervous chuckle slipping past cheshired lips. “I think you have frostbite.”

“Prob’ly,” you murmur. “Hurts to move.”

His swallowing is harsh, eyes filling quickly with guilt the longer he stares down at you. Several times, he has to shake himself from his stupor after deciding to tend to you. It startles him to be able to feel the chill through both his gloves and your sweater, and both absentmindedly and instinctively begins rubbing from the tops of your shoulder and down to your elbows.

You bite out a gasp, one of pain when it finally sinks in that maybe, you’ve been outside for even longer than you should’ve been, and raise your hands to grab his, but even this sends a pain rippling from the tips of your fingers and into your wrists—

“Ouch, S-Sampo… Hurts.”

“Huh? It hurts? What hurts?” And he rubs your one arm once more. “This?”

“M-Mhm,” and you knock his touch away with your shoulder. He sighs, sounding almost nervous or aggravated, and drags his fingers through his bangs.

“If I stand you up, do you think you’ll have the energy to stay on your feet?”

You hum, but it isn’t a positive noise.

“Then are you okay with me carrying you? It’s probably gonna hurt again. Not like we’ve got much of a choice here, though…”

“Carry me,” you say. “Carry me to Nat’s. Don’t worry… about the pain.”

“You got it.”

Somehow you thought you’d be more frustrated. You definitely are frustrated, but for now, you find yourself blaming your lack of an explosive response on the fact that you’re numb nearly from head to toe. If you still have any ears, you wouldn’t know it since you can’t feel them. You aren’t even able to smell your favourite of Sampo’s cologne he always wears, even with him being as close to him as you are after being rewrapped in your blanket and swept up into his arms. Even your hearing is slightly dulled; you swear you can hear humming, as faint as it is, and you can’t pinpoint where it comes from— with no one else around, you easily suspect Sampo as the artist. You shouldn’t have such drastic symptoms for your senses.

“What time is it?” you finally remember to ask, albeit in a croak, your throat suddenly dried out.

“Ah, well, it was around two when I got back, and that was a half an hour ago, so… a little after two-thirty?”

You manage to sigh without making a sound.

“Thought I was outside for two hours,” you start. “I think it’s… been four hours.”

Being mostly numb, you can only tell Sampo holds you a little tighter, a little closer to him as he walks because the skin on your back prickles.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Looking up, you see his own eyes cast forward down the cobbled road— avoidance. More guilt? “I’m not trying to make an excuse, but something did happen to make me late. It wasn’t just me this time, haha…”

Another of the blurred lines. A long while ago, Sampo stopped lying to you. A funny little declaration from “business partner to business partner” until “no longer lying” turned into secret-sharing and line-crossing honest— you’d wish he’d dial it back sometimes with how honest he could be. Even now, as he tells you it wasn’t entirely his fault why he’d left you waiting out in the cold, in spite of your pain and frustration, you give him the benefit of the little doubt you held onto.

“… tell me about it later,” you say, voice only just slightly higher than a whisper. “… ‘m so cold.”

Sampo is warm. Well, warmer than you. You don’t recall there ever being a time before now that the two of you have been so close, but he radiates heat like hot coals. There’s no doubt that he’s feeling cold, himself, wearing his half-sleeved jacket and a shirt that exposes his sides so easily to the elements. But he feels warm to you; you can feel it through even your blanket as you shiver.

“Don’t you worry; Sampo’s gonna get you warm and toasty in no time.”

The rest of the walk to Natasha’s clinic is completed in silence. With you living so far away from the displaced residents of the Underworld to maintain the safety of your supplies, it’s a walk that makes avoiding curious eyes impossible, and especially those of the children who recognize you upon reaching your destination in Boulder Town.

“Ah, h-hey, kiddos!” Sampo’s greeting is shaky, and for the briefest of moments, so is he. “What’s goin’ on?”

Wary of him from your past warnings from when you and he had just been acquainted a couple of years back, they regard him with the same disdain you once did— with little Julian at the helm, they stand before the steps to Natasha’s clinic with their arms crossed and eyebrows downturned, barring his path.

“Where are you taking the chief!?” Julian demands, craning his neck to glare up at Sampo, who only blinks back.

“The… chief?”

“Chief of sweets,” you answer. “I make them sweets a lot.”

“Gotcha… Well, I’m bringing the chief to see the good doctor! We’re feeling a little under the weather, see?”

“Look how much the chief is shaking!” one of the other children exclaim. Sampo nods quickly, and attempts to shuffle up the stairs.

“That’s right! Waiting out in the cold for a long time will do that! So will you let me through?”

Julian huffs at him. “Fine! But I’m telling Boss Hook about this, and she won’t be happy about it.” Without another word or a moment of hesitation, Julian runs off, his friends in tow toward the Great Mine.

Sampo sighs, carting you up the rest of the steps in his arms before pausing.

“I gotta set you down for a sec, okay?” You nod, your body jittering in his firm hold when your feet finally touch the ground. Still cradled by his one arm and balancing you against his hip, he shoves open the door to the clinic and helps you inside by lifting you past the threshold and into his arms once more.

It’s already even warmer now, your muddled brain manages to conjure; you can’t help yourself when you snuggle back into his chest. Sampo looks to you, lips pursed, and pale cheeks reddened, before shouting away from you for Natasha. Off to the side, the door to the second floor infirmary opens, and Natasha appears, slightly breathless.

“Sampo?” she says, glancing between the two of you. “What’s with all the shouting?”

“Sorry, Nat— bit of an emergency,” he says, nodding down at you, the “emergency” in question. A single-toned note escapes you in greeting; you’d been winded after the sudden moving around you’d just done. “You got a bed?”

“I-I do, right upstairs; first to the right—” He’s quick to pass her, and even faster in climbing the staircase. Over his arm, you see Natasha following after him, her skirt hiked up half-past her calves in an attempt to keep up.

But really, you’ve never seen Sampo Koski move this fast unless he’d been running away.

You’re jostled once more, and in feeling your body separating from Sampo’s, you brace yourself for the pain that eventually comes from being lowered onto one of the clinic’s cots. Like falling dominoes, the blanket on the cot rubs into yours, which rubs into your sweater and other under layers and into your skin.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

Sampo’s muttering doesn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. For as long as she’s known him, she can’t recall a time that he’s ever behaved so… docile? In the stress of the moment, she’s not quite sure if that’s the right word to use for him, so it would have to do for now.

“So, would either of you care to tell me what’s happened, then?” she says, and pulls on a pair of dark gloves.

“I’m pretty sure it’s frostbite,” Sampo says, awhile helping to unravel your blanket off of you for her. “You were out in the cold for hours…”

Natasha gasps. “In this weather? At this temperature?”

“They’d been waiting for me, but then that happened!” he spits out, panicked. “It wasn’t my fault!” In her flurry of grabbing clean towelettes, she manages to shoot him a look of frustration.

“You did a good thing by saving those kids, Sampo, but you can’t forget your other priorities.”

“I… I didn’t!” he tries swearing. “They helped me out, so I couldn’t just leave them like that! Ahh, I’m so sorry…”

Natasha sighs, placing the collected cloths next to you on the bed. “Apologizing isn’t going to help us here, so while I get these clothes off, can you go heat up a basin of water?” He nods, almost too enthusiastically.

“A hot basin of water, got it!”

“A warm basin.”

“A warm basin of water, r-right—“

He toddles off, rounding the bed from your right and crossing the clinic with a flat bucket in hand. A deep sigh from you has Natasha glancing back at you.

“I’d apologize for him, but I’m sure you already know just how aggressive he’ll be in making it up to you once you’re better.”

Your nodding shifts the pillow beneath your head.

“He… wouldn’t have been late for no reason,” you reason. “I should’ve just come here when I realized… he wouldn’t be on time.”

“Yes, you should have.”

You clear your throat a little. “Respectfully… I don’t need a lecture about it, Nat.”

“Good.” She turns around completely and begins helping to remove your three upper layers. “You’ve lived here long enough to know the consequences of being outside in this weather— if not because of Sampo, it would be because of someone else.”

“O-Old habits die hard,” you grumble, hissing as she decides to be quick in sliding off the lower two pieces of clothing, leaving your chest exposed.

“… it definitely looks like the beginning of stage three frostbite,” Natasha says, agreeing with Sampo’s earlier prognosis. “Any longer waiting out there, you might’ve needed surgery.”

“Surgery,” you repeat. “Sounds painful.”

“It is. Especially since we’re out of the usual anesthetic.”

You neglect to tell her that you likely have hypothermia, but without announcing it, she’s already assumed this just by just your symptoms— shivering, drowsiness, the pure exhaustion reflected in your lidded gaze; in the stress of the moment, she still manages to find amusement in the way your eyelids struggle to raise when Sampo returns with the basin.

“Is this good?” Sampo asks, head inclined toward Natasha. “Is it too warm?”

“It’s good,” Nat nods, having stuck a finger in to test it. She gestures at an empty tabletop. “Go ahead and put it there.”

“Sure, okay—” Sampo pauses, eyes wide with his gaze focused to the corners, at you. Slowly does his head twist toward you, lips parting until his jaw drops, and, like earlier when he’d been running around in the cold with you, his cheeks burn with rouge. Oh, right. My clothes are gone.

Natasha’s own eyes widen in realization. She’s quick to drop your clothes to the side and step towards Sampo, and even quicker to begin shoving him out of your presence.

“H-Hey, Nat! Hold — hold on a second!”

“You can wait outside, okay?” she tells him, her voice sickeningly sweet with the tone she only ever uses when needing to be firm.

“Hey, okay, okay! I won’t look! Just—” you hear him sigh from the other side of the partition. “Just let me wait here, on the other side, alright? Please?”

“… ’t’s fine, Nat,” you pant out, your once calm heart now startled into a steady rhythm. At any rate, apparently having Sampo see you half nude on a medical cot works as a warming tool. “H-He can wait there…”

Nat relents with a sigh, with Sampo groaning in relief from the other side of the partition. You take a breath of your own, unheard over the sound of something metal dragging across the floor of the clinic— another partition.

“Just in case,” she adds.

Besides any general noises you’d often heard from within the clinic before, and the gentle of sloshing of the towelettes being rung out after being dipped into the water in the basin, there’s silence between the three of you. Natasha’s brow is is slightly furled when she carefully lays the cloths along your cold-burnt skin— like your fingers, purpling had started stretching out across it, and in more exposed areas, you’d even begun to blister. Bringing your surface temperature back up safely and slowly is the goal, she’d told you. Upon covering your chest, she clears her throat. “Sampo.”

There’s a slight squeak from the other side of the wall. “I-I wasn’t looking?!”

“Whether you were or weren’t, I need you to now. Come back in here, please.”

“Huh? W-Why?”

“I need you to handle the rest of this for me while I go look for some medicine.” She looks to you with a frown. “You aren’t feeling it now because your body is in shock, but you’ll be in a lot of pain when your temperature returns to normal. You’ll want to be asleep when it finally does.”

“Oh… okay.” The partition creaks, and Sampo slips between the two, careful not to let any other prying eyes see you. You peer down past your feet at him. “Hi.”

“… h-hi.”

Gently still, Natasha pats an unaffected part of your arm. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Take your time,” you say. “’s’not like I’m going anywhere.”

Her smile is soft; you watch her go, listening to the click of her heels until they disappear through the same doorway as earlier.

Surprisingly, Sampo is already to work— his regular gloves pulled off and shoved haphazardly into one of his pockets, he dons a pair of the clinic’s medical ones that, despite being an average size, manages to squeeze his hands almost uncomfortably so.

“You… don’t have to wear those,” you tell him. “Just Nat’s habit. You’re only putting towels on me.”

He looks down at his hands, lips pursed and his cheeks still pink. You manage a dry laugh at his expense.

“Or are you suddenly feeling self-conscious,” you muse, thinking back to earlier. “Not like anyone saw you half-naked.”

Sampo huffs at you. “J-Jeez…”

This time, you smile at him. “Is it nerves? Or guilt? Don’t feel guilty. You… you saved some kids?”

“… yeah,” he mumbles, and tears off the ill-fitting gloves to throw in the trash. “Had to help them out after they saved me. You know me,” he sings half-heartedly. “I never leave a debt unpaid…”

“Sampo, I-I’m not mad at you,” you swear. You watch him avert his gaze and pick up a towel. “Sampo. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

His eyes widen before he turns back to you. “Huh?”

“That whole time… I was worried you were hurt… or caught. Four hours is… a long time. But I was happy when you finally showed up. I was so cold that… I couldn’t tell you this… And now, I’m so sleepy that I… I just hope that what I’m saying makes sense.”

Those blurred lines… are really getting a lot clearer now, you sluggishly realize, the longer you stare up at him. His own concern for you… the way he looks at you when he does… It can’t be strictly because of his “never leave a debt unpaid” policy he just reminded you of. He’s never looked at Natasha like this, nor any of his other customers or clients.

You suddenly chuckle to yourself. “I’m not drugged up on Nat’s medicine yet, so before I take it… let me say this.” He swallows. “Your debt to me… is clear,” and his eyes widen, “as long as you stop being so reckless… and as long as we can keep helping each other… and if you can… stay with me more. Even if you’re late… I always want to see you. Always… okay?”

The towel slips from his hands. You watch him inhale, his chest seemingly puffing up with the trapped air, and drop the towel.

“W-Was… Is th-that a…? Was that…?”

“Mm… a confession,” you finish. “Yeah. It was. Been simmering on it for a while now, I think. Is that okay?”

Hand on his hip, he finally exhales, flossing through his bangs with his fingers again.

“I-I mean… yeah!” You hold in another laugh at how high his voice had broken to. “Totally fine.” He grabs another towel and throws it in the slightly steaming basin.

Sliding it from the bed, you reach out your hand for him.

“Sampo,” you call, urging him to take it. When he doesn’t, and returns his attention to the water, you reach out a little further, and instead reach for his exposed skin beneath his coat. A small yelp of surprise escapes him the second you trail your finger along his hip, and instinctively, he goes to grab your wrist to stop you until spotting how dark the flesh of your fingers has become from the cold.

“H-Hey!” he hisses lowly, face quick to become splotched with rose.

“… you’re still cold, too.”

“Sampo…”

The man jumps at Natasha’s return, careful to turn on the spot when your hand had still been resting on his one hip, even minutes later and at your insistence at warming him up.

“I at least did one, it’s not my fault!!”

#ik it's not romancy REALLY but ;-;#i love him so much.#sampo #sampo koski #sampo x reader #sampo x yn #sampo x y/n #sampo koski x reader #sampo koski x yn #sampo koski x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail

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padfootagain · 1 year

Text

That spot on your finger

Hello!! Here I come with a new Ben Barnes fic! I hope you like it! Please, let me know what you think of it :)

(Also, side note… the beige suit for Ben in this fic is directly inspired by that Ferragamo campaign he did a few years ago. Was that forever ago? Yes. Am I over it? Absolutely not.)

*****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: none but fluff. Soulmates AU

Sum up: The mark on your skin that should allow you to find your soulmate is pretty hidden, hence your difficulty in finding them. Or maybe you simply haven’t them yet? Anyway, this guy at your friend’s wedding makes you fall head over heels. Could he be the one?

Word count: 5164

There was a mark on your ring finger.

Right there, on the right side of it, the piece of skin that was almost invisible because often hidden by your middle finger. A tiny space you had to purposely reveal.

Three little dots, a red line. Tiny and invisible almost.

You reckoned that it was the reason why it was taking so long for you to find your soulmate.

It was easy for others to recognize each other. When your mark was imprinted right in the middle of your forearm, or at the base of your neck, it was easy to spot. You could have had a mark on the back of your hand, that would have been easy as well. But you didn’t. You needed to find, in this ocean of people, in these billions of individuals walking across the globe, the only person who also had a red mark of three dots crossed by a line… on the inside of their left ring finger.

Obviously, you were still single.

But then again, you couldn’t exactly pretend that you were particularly lucky, as a person in general. Even worse, you were clumsy and just… a bunch of chaos. The location of your birthmark was just one more proof that when the Universe had decided to create your life, they dropped the bottle for ‘bad luck’ right into the mix.

But then again, it was alright. You had made a lovely life for yourself on your own. You had your hobbies, your passions even. You had a nice little apartment where you cohabitated with your neighbour’s cat named Reggie who, in all fairness, spent more time at your place than in his home. You had pretty houseplants, a wonderful collection of books, friends you adored. And it was more than enough to fill your life with sunshine. You had kind of stopped looking for your soulmate, actually. When you were younger, it was an obsession. But then, every teenager had to go through this phase of obsessive search for their soulmate. You had grown out of it. If you met them, then wonderful. If you didn’t, then you would still enjoy your life to the fullest.

As you walked through the venue where one of your oldest friends was about to get married, you genuinely were not jealous of her. She had found her soulmate; they were getting married. Meanwhile, your life was already full of everything you wanted.

You smiled as you opened the door to the room where you friend was getting ready. On the opposite side of the building, the groom was adjusting his tuxedo.

Mary was lovely. A true ray of sunshine. She turned to you at the sound of the door turning on its hinges.

“You’re right on time!” she gave you a thumbs-up.

On her neck, you could see the four lines of her birthmark aligned along the curve. They were visible even from the doorstep.

“I might be a little chaotic, but I can be on time for my friend’s wedding,” you rolled your eyes at her remark, closing the door behind you.

“It is literally the first time in my entire life that I see you arriving anywhere on time…”

“That… might be true. Shows you how much I love you, I guess.”

She laughed, looking so happy on this bright and sunny day.

Her day…

“Do you need anything before the show begins?” you asked her, waving at your friend’s mother who was on the phone on the other side of the room.

“I would kill for some coffee, to be honest,” she confessed. “I was so nervous, I’ve barely slept at all last night.”

“I don’t see what you could be nervous about. You’re marrying your soulmate. The Universe literally planned that you would fall in love and spend your lives together. I don’t even see what the point in getting married is, you’re already sure it will work between the two of you.”

“Once you’ve found your soulmate, you’ll understand. It’s just… an extra step. An official promise. And a way to tell every other woman to back off from my man cause he’s taken.”

You both laughed at that, and you congratulated her with a hug.

“So… a coffee? You sure? Aren’t you nervous enough as it is?” you asked her one last time, but your friend was determined, and so you walked out of the room in search of a cup of the hot beverage.

You had to walk across the parking lot to reach the park of the venue the couple had rented for the day. The venue… it was a mansion, it was huge, it had a parking lot and a park where the ceremony and the celebration would take place. It was a place that could have existed in a fairy tale.

And you found it cute, of course, but also… you promised yourself that if you were to get married, you would organize something small. Something intimate. In a place you loved, and nothing more. Nothing too fancy.

One of the employees of the venue gave you the precious beverage, and you started your walk back towards the mansion, not paying too much attention to your surroundings, lost in thought instead. As you usually were… Besides, there wasn’t anyone on the parking lot, so it wasn’t too risky to walk with your head in the clouds.

Or well, that was what you thought, at least…

Because on the other side of the parking lot, a man dressed in a beige tuxedo was hurrying towards the mansion. Actually, he was almost running. He was late. And he felt terrible about it, because if there was one day in his life when he needed to be on time, it was today. His little brother was getting married, he couldn’t afford to be late today. And he was always on time, so why now? Why was he late on the only day that truly mattered? He checked his pockets, and got out the velvety box that protected the wedding bands. What a groomsman he made… he had to drive back to his apartment when he was already halfway to the venue because he had forgotten these bloody rings.

But now, Ben had arrived. He was late, but not desperately so. He had the wedding rings. He was dressed, ready to celebrate his younger brother’s wedding.

He walked even faster – even if that hardly seemed possible – checking the time on his watch. And thus, he was not looking at where he was going for several seconds.

Several crucial seconds.

Before any of you knew what was happening, Ben was colliding quite violently with you, and your precious cup of coffee fell to the ground, along with Ben’s precious velvety box. As you collided, you dropped everything to hold onto whoever had bumped into you, and Ben did the same, out of pure reflex. You were thus holding onto each other’s forearms, for now trying to not fall down and to understand what was happening.

Ben felt something wet on his chest and knew even before he looked down at his white shirt what had happened. The coffee…

“Oh…”

He looked up at you, getting both panicked and angry in a mere second, until his eyes met yours and then… then something very strange happened.

It was like… time had stopped suddenly. He took in your features and it felt like he knew you, like he had seen you before. And every ounce of anger or annoyance disappeared.

“…fuck.”

All of a sudden, all the air had left his lungs, and his mouth was dry and all he could do was to stare at you with his mouth slightly agape and a dazzled look across his face. His brain had stopped functioning altogether.

And you felt exactly the same.

He saw you look down at the ground, but he didn’t, he kept staring at you, and in the back of his mind he wondered what this was all about…

"Huh... were you going to... propose?!"

You sounded panicked, and when you looked up at him, your eyes were wide in horror.

“Oh no! Have I ruined your proposal?”

“Proposal… wha… what?”

He didn’t understand a word you were saying, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of his brain suddenly deciding to shut down, because you didn’t make any sense, or because he was too busy staring at your eyes to listen properly to you.

“The box… were you going to propose to someone?”

Finally, Ben looked down, and seeing the black velvety box he finally understood.

“No… no, I’m with the wedding party.”

“Oh! You brought the rings!”

“Yes, I did.”

“I’m with the wedding too.”

“Really? I don’t think we’ve met…”

“I’m with the bride…”

“Groom.”

“That’s why, I guess.”

“Yeah… I guess so…”

You exchanged a smile, not really knowing why. You were still holding onto each other, not really knowing why either…

“Ben!”

You were interrupted by a deep voice calling from the front door of the mansion.

“What are you doing? You’re late! Come on!”

“I’m coming, dad.”

But the old man walked a little closer, and after just a few steps, noticed the disaster the two of you had caused…

“Your shirt!”

Ben finally looked down at his shirt. It was drenched with coffee. Luckily, his vest and tie were alright.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized over and over again. “I’m so clumsy and…”

“No, it’s nothing,” Ben reassured you. “I wasn’t looking at where I was going either.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“We have a couple of extra shirts inside, come on,” Ben’s father started to walk back to the building, inviting his son to follow him by a quick hand gesture.

But there were still the cup of coffee – now empty – and the box containing the wedding rings to pick up from the ground. You both bent down at the same time, bumping your heads together.

“Ouch!” you exclaimed in unison, rubbing the now painful spots on your foreheads.

You looked at each other, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m very clumsy,” you apologised with a smile, standing back up.

“I’m sorry too. Looks like I’m particularly unlucky today.”

He picked up his box, and he handed you your empty cup as well. You thanked him as he finally turned away from you and towards the mansion. Thomas had not waited for him, and was already rummaging through the bags he had brought in search for a new shirt.

But Ben had merely taken three steps towards the building when he turned towards you again.

“I’m Ben… by the way.”

He seemed a little shy. A little hesitant. As if, as soon as the words had passed his lips, he felt ridiculous for saying them.

You probably didn’t care what his name was anyway…

He was wrong though. You offered him a bright smile as an answer.

“I’m Y/N.”

He smiled back at you, a bright, wonderfully warm smile.

“Y/N…” he repeated your name under his breath, liking the taste of it on his tongue, the way it rolled passed his lips…

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Y/N,” he went on. “Eventful, but nice…”

“And a little painful too,” you added to his joke, successfully making him laugh.

“I hope it won’t be so painful if we cross path again during the day.”

“Yes… let’s hope so.”

Finally, he turned away for good, and soon disappeared inside.

You let out a long, shaky breath.

Who the hell was that…?

The ceremony went perfectly. Mary and Jack took their vows, and didn’t stop smiling for a second as soon as they shared their first kiss as a married couple. The rest of the day flew by with games, and drinks, and dancing, and funny speeches about the newlyweds and an awful lot of joy.

And it turned out that Ben was the groom’s brother, which meant that he was involved in every game and every activity planned for the day.

You were not one of the bridesmaids, but you were close enough to Mary for her to always look for you in the crowd to join the games with her, so you did spend quite a lot of time with Ben.

And it seemed that, somehow, Fate had decided to team you up very often. You were not, however, one to complain about that fact.

It turned out that he was a lot of fun to be around, and a little shy sometimes, and awfully charming with that. Which… did not help you focus on the games you were playing at, but it did make your heart jump in a very sweet way.

However, now was not the time for letting your heart be softened by a charming smile. It was a duel, a battle to the death…

… for the last chair.

You were the two finalists for the game of musical chairs, and the battle was merciless.

On the right, Ben Barnes, mischievously charming, winner of the previous round.

On the left, Y/N Y/L/N, ruthless and ready to push her opponent to the ground, but she had landed second on the previous round because of her stupid dress that impended her movements (or because she was clumsy and sat down next to the chair… we’re not sure).

It was time for a rematch. The duellists were staring at each other in the eye, wary of their opponents’ movements.

Until…

The music stopped.

It was then a rush of limbs reaching for the lonely chair, a bit of pushing and a lot of pulling and an awful lot of laughing.

You shoved Ben aside, and sat down, victorious, onto the chair. Mary was cheering for you, and everyone clapped and laughed as you shouted in victory.

By your side, Ben was laughing as well. He buried his face in his hands to fake disappointment, when really, he was grinning like an idiot.

The look of glee on your face had made him blush outrageously…

You had a little victory dance before receiving your great prize: a plastic whistle.

Ben offered you his open palm as the guests were looking for drinks again and settling into conversations, waiting for the next game or dance.

“Congratulations, it was a great win,” he complimented you as you shook his hand.

“Well, thank you, my good sir. You put up a decent fight.”

“Only decent?” he asked with a loud laugh.

“Well… not bad, I’ll admit.”

As if to make your point clearer, you put the whistle between your lips, and blew. Some guests turned to you their amused faces. And you successfully made Ben laugh some more.

“I’m sure you could lend a pretty good deal coaching with that thing,” he laughed, pointing at the silly whistle.

You blew again, with an interrogative tone this time.

“Hmmm… it would suit you just fine. After that pushing skill you showed out there, they could recruit you even in a rugby team.”

This time, you couldn’t help but laugh, and had to put down the toy.

“I was a bit ruthless, right?”

“No, I was too. It was fun.”

Ben started to fumble with his tie, until he managed to untie it, and he popped open the first button of his shirt.

“I did not expect that a wedding would ask so much energy though,” he joked.

You realized then that he had become a little dishevelled during the game, a few locks of dark hair falling before his eyes, although he didn’t seem to care. You decided that it suited him a lot…

“Me neither, to be honest. But I prefer it that way, I think. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

You settled at an empty table together, grabbing a glass of water. You lost yourselves in a relaxed conversation about your families, your jobs, your lives. It felt familiar, comfortable. Like talking with an old friend you had not seen in years. It felt more like catching up, than revealing yourself.

It was a strange feeling, and you weren’t sure where it came from. Ben couldn’t really understand it either. He didn’t mind though. Basking in the warmth of the late afternoon, he decided to merely enjoy the moment, while it lasted.

The afternoon drifted into a warm summer evening, and soon enough into a bright summer night. Lanterns and lights had been set all around the park, revealing the beauty of the mansion and its architecture. It was a time for dancing now rather than playing, and after a delicious meal, most couples directed their attention towards the dance floor.

You had not seen Ben in a while. After spending most of your afternoon with him, you had gone your separate ways when it was time to eat, being placed at different tables. You kept on stealing glances in his direction though, which Mary did not fail to notice.

“So… you like my brother-in-law, huh?” your friend asked you, sitting down in the chair next to you.

She was taking a break from dancing while Jack was talking with a few friends. She took off her high heels, and let out a relieved sigh as her feet met the cool and soft grass.

You laughed at her, disregarding her remark, even if it meant blatantly lying to your friend.

“Absolutely not, what are you saying? I don’t even know him!”

“You spent your entire afternoon talking with him.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You like him. You’ve been staring at him all evening. Besides, he likes you too, so…”

“He does?”

You couldn’t help but interrupt her, revealing your lie. Your friend laughed at you.

“Yeah… he does like you. He’s not even discreet about it.”

“Really?”

“Well, besides the fact that he spent his afternoon with you? He also asked me many questions about you…”

“And I’m sure you revealed my most ridiculous moments…”

“Of course not. I told him you were lovely. And single.”

“Mary!”

“What? You said yourself that you’re not looking for your soulmate, but that doesn’t mean you have to live like a nun.”

“I do not!”

“He likes you. And I know him, he really is a good guy. You should give it a try.”

You reflected on your friend’s words, but were left undecisive. You did like him. But it felt different this time around. Not like a mere crush. Not like a fling you knew would disappear on its own after a few months. You couldn’t explain it, but you felt like there was something important about this decision, and it made you afraid.

Mary was off with her family again, and you talked with a few friends as the night went on.

Meanwhile, Ben was puzzled.

He was puzzled because of you.

Because he had talked with his mother about this weird feeling that had settled in his heart and chest as the day went on, stronger, softer, warmer with every moment he spent with you. And his mother’s words woke up an old desire of his he had almost given up on.

You should ask her about her birthmark.

Why?

Was he attracted to you? Yes, absolutely. Did he enjoy your company? Without a doubt. Did he want to make you laugh as much as he could? Definitely. Did he feel pulled towards you by some invisible string, like a moss towards a flame? Undoubtedly…

Was it some kind of ‘love at first sight’ situation? A crush? But it felt different this time around, and he wasn’t sure why. And who better than his mother to advise him? But her answer was unexpected.

You should ask her about her birthmark.

Was it something to be taken so seriously? Could you be…?

He was staring at you, and he knew it was considered rude, but he couldn’t help it. He was hesitating. Even if he wanted to ask you about your birthmark, how could he do it? He couldn’t simply walk up to you, and blurt out something along the lines “hey, nice evening, don’t you think? By the way, what’s your birthmark? Because I think you might be my soulmate, so… thought I’d check.”

No, that would not do.

He decided that a drink would help, so he went to get a glass of wine. But when he turned towards you again, you were gone.

He scanned the crowd in search for you, but he couldn’t see you anywhere. Had you gone home? It was late at night, and most of the guests had decided to sleep at the mansion. You had assured him during the afternoon that you were staying till morning, so… had you left anyway? Where could you be?

He set out looking for you, a hint of worry setting a slight frown across his brow. When he spotted Mary, he asked her about your disappearance.

“Oh, I saw her setting off further down the park with a blanket. Have no idea where she found one though. I guess she must have been tired of partying, and wanted some quiet.”

Ben nodded, visibly relaxing. Mary offered him a knowing smile.

“But… quiet doesn’t necessarily mean alone…”

He couldn’t help but laugh, the tip of his ears turning red.

“I see… I wouldn’t want to seem too desperate though,” but he was only half-joking.

“Desperate is better than stupid.”

“Well, thanks Mary. I do love it when you insult me.”

“She likes you. Don’t ask yourselves so many questions about all of this and just… go with the flow.”

“Go with the flow?” he mocked her, but Mary didn’t back down.

“What are you so worried about anyway?”

“I don’t know… I guess… I don’t know, really.”

“Then… off you go!”

She gently pushed him in the right direction, and Ben could only yield, laughing as he walked away.

It took him a while to find you. You had followed a path that led further down the park, and had settled under the falling branches of a willow.

You admired the stars picking through the leaves, looked at their reflection on the pond that was splayed at your feet. There were lanterns set around the water, and a small picnic table on the left side of the water. It was quiet, with only the sound of crickets singing the song of summer, and the distant music from the party. Ben almost walked by without seeing you, hidden as you were by the branches of the willow. You were barely visible in the dim light, a blanket set across your laps and your head turned towards the sky.

His heart skipped a bit at the sight, but he chose to ignore it.

You heard someone approaching, and offered the newcomer a smile when you recognized him.

“What are you doing out there on your own?” he teased.

“Just relaxing. It’s been a tiring day. Good, but tiring.”

“Yeah… I agree.”

“You want to join me for a while? It’s lovely here.”

Ben didn’t notice the dreamy smile that curved up his lips.

“I’d love to. Thanks.”

He walked under the branches of the tree, fingers tickled by the soft leaves as he pushed them aside, and he sat down next to you. He started pulling on your blanket to tease you some more. You resisted, laughing.

“Stop stealing my blanket!” you protested, faking outrage.

“You could share, it’s cold out here.”

He finally stopped, letting out a laugh and setting his dark eyes on the pond before you.

He thanked you when you placed the blanket on his legs.

“How’s the party? Still going strong?” you asked after a short silence.

“Yep! And it doesn’t show any sign of stopping. Jack is wasted, but then again, I reckon he has the right to be tonight.”

“Mary is pretty drunk too, I’m sure.”

“It’s safer if they both stay away from the dance floor, I reckon.”

You exchanged yet another laugh, something that seemed abundant whenever you were together.

There was barely a breeze to shake the leaves of the trees around you, to disturb the mirroring surface of the pond. Waterlilies were in bloom, white and pink touches of colour above green leaves. The moon, high and full, shed a silvery light upon the world, painting the grass with ethereal hints on every blade. You barely noticed your fingers moving towards his, only when your skins collided did you acknowledge your movement. You couldn’t ignore it, given the jump your heart made under your ribcage…

You remained silent and motionless, sitting there in the night, fingers brushing against his and afraid he would pull away if you moved at all.

Instead, he wrapped his fingers around yours, gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

You caught yourself looking for any sign of birthmark, but just like yours it didn’t seem visible, not at first sight at least. It made you stare at him for a while, and he couldn’t refrain a teasing smile.

“Do I have something on my cheek?”

You jumped, looking away.

“No, no… nothing.”

“Why are you staring, then?”

“No… no reason. I wasn’t staring.”

You cleared your voice, fidgeting with the corner of the blanket.

“Why did you come out here, anyway?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

“Honestly? I was looking for you.”

His response made the two of you stare at each other. There was no one around, in the calm night; but you reckoned that, had there been anyone else, you wouldn’t have noticed their presence at all. Not when he stared at you like that.

You noticed the freckle under his right eye, found the detail endearing, for some reason…

You looked away.

“Why? Why would you be looking for me? Aren’t you supposed to be with the groom?”

“You say that as if I haven’t spent my entire day with him.”

“Just saying.”

“Well… I… I wanted to be with you instead.”

“Why?”

You asked again, but couldn’t muster the strength to look at him. You noticed then how unbearably close the two of you were, shoulder against shoulder…

“I… I wanted to ask you something. Even if it’s a bit weird.”

The music from the party seemed to grow louder, people were cheering. A brand-new wave of dancers was standing up from and joining the jumping fray.

You didn’t care about it at all.

“Go ahead,” you encouraged Ben, as he seemed to have fallen silent.

It was his turn to nervously wrap his fingers around the corner of the blanket.

“I was just wondering… have you found your soulmate, yet?”

He tried to ask it in a nonchalant tone, and failed miserably.

At last, you turned your gaze towards him once more. It seemed that you had caught his whole world, trapped it in your eyes…

“No, I haven’t,” you gave him an earnest answer. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, looking more vulnerable now. Still charming though, he gave you a shy smile.

“Just… the usual.”

“The usual?”

“I… I kind of like you. So…”

He was surprised when an amused smile appeared on your lips.

“That was not very smooth,” you commented.

“Doing my best. But you’re not making it any easier on me.”

“Really?”

“It’s hard to be smooth next to someone who seems to be turning your world upside-down.”

You let out a chuckle, and it was your turn to be shy.

“That… was smoother.”

“Still true, though.”

You struggled to swallow, but forced your voice to come out anyway. You didn’t notice the way you held his hand tighter in yours.

“Have you found your soulmate?”

But Ben shook his head.

“No, haven’t found them yet. Have… kind of given up, if I’m to be honest.”

“Yeah… me too.”

“Besides… my birthmark is pretty hidden, so it’s not easy to spot them in a crowd.”

“Mine too.”

Ben nodded, and weighed his options. But he decided against asking you about your birthmark. It felt like it would break the charm of the evening. And this moment made too sweet a memory to taint it in any way. It could wait. For now, he didn’t mind not knowing.

“I was wondering,” he went on instead, “if maybe… after tonight you would like to… have a coffee with me, one of these days.”

You offered him a bright smile, somewhere between joy and mischief.

“That was smooth.”

“Thank you, I’m practicing.”

“I’d love that. Going on a date with you, I’d love that.”

He offered such a smile, it felt blinding almost.

“But…”

The curve of his lips disappeared.

“I don’t want to make you waste your time,” you added. “Because I really like you too, and I fear that we… we could get attached. Like… really attached. And maybe, if we’re not meant to be together, then there’s no use in breaking our own hearts by going any further than this lovely day we’ve shared. So…”

You raised your hand and revealed the three red dots crossed by a line, hidden on the side of your ring finger.

“I bet it doesn’t match, does it?” you asked, already disappointed.

But Ben’s eyes seemed glued to the mark on your finger, and you wondered why. His expression was unreadable.

He let go of your hand, and you hated yourself for feeling so disappointed to be rejected. You hated your throat for tightening, and your lungs for pushing out every molecule of air, and your eyes for watering. You were ready to look away to hide your reaction, when Ben lifted his left hand before you, separated his fingers.

You stopped breathing altogether.

Three dots crossed by a red line…

When you looked into his eyes again, none of you were able to move or say anything. You needed a moment to take it all in.

“So… it’s you,” you let the words out in a breath, shaky and fragile and hesitant.

But Ben answered with a smile, withheld tears making his eyes shine.

“Nice to meet you, soulmate.”

You brushed a tear away as you laughed.

“Smooth.”

“Not really. I’ll work on that.”

“It’s okay. I kind of like that cheesy style.”

You both chuckled, his hand falling to hold onto yours again.

“So… what do we do now?” you asked, shaking.

Ben shrugged, and you could hear in his voice that he was struggling to stay calm as well.

“I mean… I reckon you should definitely accept that offer for a coffee.”

You both let out a laugh.

You turned around as loud shouts echoed through the park, coming from the party that was still raging near the mansion. It gave him a moment to take a deep breath, to finally calm his nerves, at least a little bit. At least, enough to speak again.

“But I think that for tonight… a dance sounds like a nice beginning. What do you think?”

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