#been dreaming about chocolate cake for a month and I was not disappointed despite all the ''failures'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tellmenauineo · 3 years

Text

colored by you

pairing: mingyu x reader, vernon x reader

genre: soulmate!au, angst, fluff, smut, comedy (at some points)

warnings: mentions of alcholol and weed, language, unprotected sex

summary: eventually, we fall in love with people who the universe destined us to. but there are complications sometimes.

word count: 11k (i refuse to comment)

a/n: tell me what you think even if you found it bad 🤧🤧 i’m in NEED of feedback,, stay safe during the pandemic and feel free to talk to me!! i’m sorta back 🤠🤠

“I'd prefer if you showed more enthusiasm about it. Success is never an accident,” your mother reads you a lesson, a reproach can be heard in her voice. Your sigh, wishing this conversation to be over so you’ll finally be able to hang up your phone.

“Some people aren't built happy, or cheerful, or forever excited, you know,” you mumble. “I'm satisfied with my academical success – but maybe it isn't a thing I want to achieve now. I don't know.”

“Of course, people aren't built happy – that’s why the Universe made a soulmate for each of us. To make us happy. That's how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day you’ll understand,” your mother continues. “And you will be happier, happier than ever. Your time will come.”

You won't understand.

The Universe made a soulmate for each of us. The Universe made sure we’ll be aware who is the one, the one, as your mother says, who’ll make you happier and complete, too. It's pretty simple. First words addressing you that you would hear from your soulmate get imprinted on the skin of your ribcage. Close to your heart.

The mechanism of The Universe is perfect. But, sometimes, even perfect-made things get broken.

You won't understand because you already have words tattooed on your skin.

“I guess, we can say love is an accident, isn't it?” you say. “Anyway, I gotta go, mom. I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Take care of yourself. And don't stay up late.”

“We both know I'm gonna stay up late,” you smile. “Bye!”

It happened in cold January, four months ago.

“Shrimp Pad Thai?” Chan asks you.

“Mm, yes,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Chan gasps and raises his eyebrows in a fake disbelief, but you don't let him open his mouth to say something very sarcastic about you and your habits in eating. “I'm your customer, where are your manners? What if I leave?”

“Then you'll leave and won't have our Shrimp Pad Thai which you order five days a week,” he shrugs.

“I'm older than you – pay me respect!”

“I do? Always? Our very important customer who always eats the same,” he playfully sing-songs and you roll your eyes, trying your best not to give him a smile.

“Go and get us food already,” Momo says. “Both of you better not play on my nerves when I'm hungry.”

When the orders are made and Chan leaves to the kitchen, you get up from your seat.

“I'm going to wash my hands,” you announce, and your friend nods at it.

On your way to the restrooms you recognize a bunch of boys sitting at the window booth. Kim Mingyu, Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo – all of them are in Soonyoung’s group of friends. Wonwoo smiles and waves his hand and you return the gesture. You nod at Junhui and Mingyu – who looks incredibly soft and cute in his light-gray hoodie with his rose cheeks – seems that the ramen he is eating is too spicy for him. He gives you a little “hey”, smiling at you, and you immediately feel how your own cheeks turn blushy. To prevent your embarrassment in front of them, you try to speed up, but, suddenly, collide with someone.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You look up at the source of the voice, Chwe Hansol, the new Soonyoung’s roommate you heard a lot about (and you’re aware that Soonyoung not just can’t stop telling embarrassing stories about you to his roommate, but also shows him your pictures, because yes, in Soonyoung’s words, it’s a crime if you don’t put on display your best friend and your wonderful, a movie-worthy, friendship) and, apparently, there is no bottle of chilli sauce in his hands. A smug smile is playing on his lips and his chocolate eyes are glistening with a mischief.

“Nice try,” you don't hide a hint of a wipe in your voice as you start moving towards the restrooms – you swear a trip to them never took that long.

You catch Hansol's gaze on you on the way back to your and Momo’s booth and you have nothing to do but narrow your eyes at him, making him smile even wider.

“He's cute, though. The Hansol guy I mean,” Momo concludes after you finished your dinner. “But no shit they're loud.”

You cast an eye at their boost. Mingyu is the loudest and the most talkative among them – but, somehow, looking at him telling something, wildly gesticulating, makes your heart melt a little.

Stupid, you think, it's almost close to feeling happy.

You spot the tattoo when you go to take a shower that night.

Your heart sinks at the sight of the words.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You don't tell anyone.

“I can take it as an offend, you know,” Soonyoung whines. “You've been turning down my home party offers for more than a month!”

“Um, you haven’t had any,” you say.

It’s true – you try your best to avoid Hansol, and it works even despite the fact he lives with your best friend (sometimes you’re wondering how Soonyoung and Hansol, the pair of complete opposites, rub along okay together, but maybe opposites indeed attract?). You’re not fond of the idea you reduced all your social interactions, but at least you do your huge amount of homework in time – that’s why Soonyoung once called you a homework-doing machine.

Yes, that’s lame.

“It’s because you didn’t come!”

You’re clearly under pressure. You can crack under it a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“Because I-” you forget what you want to say to explain yourself. Or, rather, to fudge up an excuse to trick Soonyoung and keep staying from Hansol as long as possible. “It’s complicated. Besides, your roommate sticks at home for days on end, and if I want to spend time with you I want us to be alone,” you point at him with your pen.

His eyes are getting wider and wider with each millisecond and finally he gasps,

“Are you in love with me?!”

Well.

“What if I am?” you challenge. At the end of the day, that’s the words of the woman who has nothing to lose.

“I-” it’s Soonyoung, who is under pressure right now. “I love you, you know it-”

“But, there’s always a but,” you sigh in a fake manner. “I understand. Maybe I haven’t yearned it yet,” you place your hand over his, and his eyes are glued to your hands. “But, Soonyoung, I want to hear ‘horanghae’ from you someday. Will my dream come true?”

He lifts up his eyes to you. Soonyoung’s known you for over a decade and he clearly can say you’re on the verge of bursting into a hearty laugh despite your dying attempts to keep your face straight. He snaps his hand away and stands up.

“Yah! You betrayed me!” he points a finger at you. “Yah!” he continues in a voice that is a few octaves higher than his usual. “You are gonna pay for your betrayal!”

“Sure thing,” you manage to say through your laugh. You’re well aware that almost all eyes in the campus cafeteria are on you, but it was quite common when the two of you were together. “I’ll see you in court, horangi.”

You wish you were in court.

Instead, you’re in Soonyoung and Hansol’s kitchen, mixing the sickest possible cocktail ever – and you’re not proud of yourself.

“Why it looks like wiper fluid but tastes like lab alcohol?” Seungkwan asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Your mirror his expression.

“Um, the creator would like to take to his own grave the secret receipt of this… shit,” you say.

By the creator you mean Soonyoung. You’re on duty tonight – it’s Hansol and Seokmin’s double birthday party and you’re in charge of everything – your best friend had no mercy for the cafeteria joke.

“Don’t tell me the upcoming birthday cakes have the same creator,” the boy says, patting his blond locks back into place. You assume he was dancing, or, more likely, slamming in the living room, while you hide in the kitchen, still avoiding Seokmin co-star of this night, Hansol.

“Nah, I ordered them in the bakery. Customized ones!”

“You should’ve asked me to bake the cakes,” the third person enters the room, and your heart skips a bit. Mingyu walks towards you and Seungkwan and leans on the counter, still having his eyes on you. “I need to improve my baking skills.”

You feel how your cheeks flushing up. Shit, you curse in your head, he just made an appearance and you’re already turning into mush.

“Next time maybe?” you ask, your voice is much more gentle than usual. “Whose birthday is next?”

“Mine,” smiles Mingyu. “But I don’t want to hold a party this year – wanna share a dinner tete-a-tete with someone.”

“Such a great plan! Except for one thing – you don’t have ‘someone’,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll find one,” Mingyu’s words are steady but his movements are not. His right elbow slips off the counter, and the boy hisses. “I’m already working on this.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” you smile despite feeling that something is scratching your guts in your belly – disappointment? jealousy? sadness? Maybe all of them and maybe none.

You have a soulmate for fuck’s sake and it’s not Mingyu.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan mutters. “I’m going back to the party and I strongly recommend you to stop hiding here,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “He won’t bite you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” you exclaim, but Seungkwan only shrugs.

“Have no idea.”

You want to follow him, take him by the shoulders and ask about everything he knows about – did Hansol tell him about you? Seems so. Has he, Seungkwan, launched the making of the two of you a couple campaign? If yes, you’re doomed.

Mingyu stops you from storming out of the kitchen – you’re back to the reality with his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and you turn to him in surprise, your cheeks already flushed.

“Yes?” you manage to mumble.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asks, and you almost hear concern in his voice. Or maybe you imagine it all.

“Um- no one? He’s being delusional like always, you know?”

“You sure?’ his hand is getting lower, and unexpectedly you find your fingers intertwining with his. Mingyu’s hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold isn’t tight, but it magically makes you forget about the whole the soulmate and his wingman thing.

It makes you forget about everything except for this particular moment – Mingyu’s dark eyes on you, your hand in his and the echo of the music playing in the living room. His bronze skin’s glowing in the dim kitchen light (one of the bulbs is dead and neither Soonyoung or Hansol wants to do something about it), his face is innocent and the only thing you can think about – your uncontrollable desire to kiss off two worry lines between his perfect eyebrows.

You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath, too afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m sure,” you whisper and he nods. Mingyu probably can hear the beating of your racing heart, and you don’t mind at all – you would eagerly tell him how he makes you feel if he wants to know.

He leans closer to you, his breath is tickling the soft skin of your cheek and you hear him ask,

“May I?”

But before you can nod, Seokmin’s piercing voice, like a bolt out of the blue, is calling your name,

“Soonyoung’s trying to kiss me!”

He is louder than any bomb, you think, and that’s enough to take you out of the trance. You slowly turn to him, letting go of Mingyu’s hold on your wrist.

“It’s his way to wish you a happy birthday,” you negotiate, but Seokmin’s gaze is wandering between your and Mingyu’s bodies. His hand follows his eyes, gesturing at the two of you.

“Are you-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off.

“Man, you need me to get the thing squared away?” Mingyu sounds irritated. You turn your head to steal a look of him. You never saw him like that – at least, not with his friends. Even when his team was defeated at the bowling a month or so ago he seemed worn out, but no hint of irritation on his face – just an exhausted smile combined with a self-mockery behavior. That night you almost regretted saying your wrist was injured so you spent the whole game sipping bubble teas instead of helping your team from sinking to the bottom.

(Jeonghan didn’t buy that spectacular performance, by the way)

“I came to complain?” he looks at you, the eyes so innocent, calling for help, so you smile in response – it’s always like this with Seokmin – the boy can melt even stone hearts.

“Let me check on him,” you say to Seokmin, and he eagerly nods. You pat on Mingyu’s right forearm, your fingers stay on his hard bicep for a little too long, and it makes you lick your lips. “And if he needs to get into bed, I expect some help from you, Mingyu.”

His face softens, and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second.

“Let’s get it then.”

“I ain’t leaving till I help you with this,” Mingyu says, referring to the apartment that looks like a battlefield (of beer pong). “You already look tired.”

“I’m tired,” you admit. “But you have classes like in…” you check your watch. “…four hours.”

“I’ll sit in the back of the classroom,” seeing the question in your eyes, he adds. “I’ll catch some sleep, don’t worry.”

“Sounds stupid, but I guess nothing would change your mind,” you give up, and a proud smile appears on his face. “The living room is yours then,” you give him an evil smile, your hand lands on his firm chest, patting it twice. “Have fun!”

When you step into the kitchen, a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips, despite your vain attempt to suppress it.

Hansol sits in the white plastic chair, mindlessly scrolling through whichever app is it’s feed. He looks up at you, but he next second his eyes are back on the screen.

Your body feels stiff, like you’re made of wood, but you force yourself to approach the counter. The desire to disappear is so strong that you find yourself not breathing at all – like if you make less noises, the more Hansol is unaware you’re in the same room with him.

You grab a handful of orange peels to throw in the trash can under the sink when you hear Hansol voice, “Why didn’t you throw out all of them?” You turn to the boy, cheeks already red, and anger is bubbling in your stomach. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he lets a hoarse laugh.

“I’m joking, jeez. No need to sulk.”

You don’t return his smile, instead turning away from him to take the leftovers, and say,

“It couldn’t fit in my hand.”

He coos at your words, and you feel stupid.

“Soonyoung was right. You’re an absolute doll.”

“Not impressed,” you roll your eyes, but you feel no confidence in your voice. You face Hansol again, a mischievous glint in his big eyes can be spotted even from across the kitchen. “Your eyes are red,” you notice. “Are you stoned?”

“Maybe so,” he yawns, stretching out in the chair that is about to crack under his weight at any minute. “I don’t mind you tucking me in, though. You seem to be a pro.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” you say. “The scientists say weed makes people stupid.”

“And affects their memory,” he adds. “But it makes me copy.”

“With what?”

Hansol shrugs and his gaze falls to his knees. He radiates hesitation, and you gulp the pulse in your throat, afraid to hear the truth.

“With me being avoided by my own soulmate like I’m sorta of a plague? Sorta.”

A wave of pure heat that feels like a fever, a bad fever, runs through your body. The whole soulmate thing was supposed to be a blessing, but it feels like a curse. Without thinking, you pathetically mumble,

“I thought you don’t care.”

You really did. For the last few weeks you’ve been living in the bubble made of your own sorrows, disappointments, and self-pity, and the thought of what Hansol feels and thinks about it never crossed your mind.

“Whatever,” he says. “I got your point.”

Hansol doesn’t wait for the unspoken words that are stuck in the back of your throat, ringing in your ears over and over as you watch him leaving the kitchen. He stops at the doorframe with his hand in his dark locks – it’s so odd to see him not wearing a beanie – and slowly turns to you.

“Leave this shit to Soonyoung,” he says.

“Okay,” you mutter.

He calls your name, shooting the arrow of guilt right into your heart.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

When Mingyu returns to ask where he can find another bag for trash, you cling to the boy’s chest, and skipping all the questions on the tip of his tongue, Mingyu clasps his arms around you. His chin is snuggling upon your head and you feel pressure inside of the bubble reducing a little.

But a tremendous guilt envelops you with each minute.

Momo stares at your figure as you sit across her – your hair cascading down onto your hunched shoulders, your face is covered with your hands, and the girl only huffs.

“Should I expect some fake sobs?”

You spare a fiery glance at her, but she just waves you off in dismisal. Momo doesn’t even trying to hide her irritation with you – the first thing she asked you after you finally had decided to spill the whole situation to her was ‘Could you have taken any longer to tell me?” and you can’t blame her.

“Yah, leave these tricks for your future sweetheart Sollie. I’m not buying it.”

“He is not my future sweetheart,” you argue. “It doesn’t work!”

“Because you never gave it a chance,” she isn’t convinced, and her stern tone makes you consider the words more carefully.

“He hates me now!”

“First, you deserved it. No offense. Second, he seems like a crackhead, such people don’t hate other people, they just don’t care about them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” you exclaim, and her face breaks into a triumphant smile. “What?”

“Look at you, already defending your soulmate,” she says in a saccharine voice. “Ask him out and fall in love. Choose life. Choose a loveseat coach.”

“Isn’t it from Trainspotting movie?” you question, narrowing your eyes.

“And what about it?” she huffs once again. “It doesn’t make me wrong. It always starts with a crush. Just let it happen.”

A crush, huh? A crush that makes your heart beats harder; that sends you floating in your daydreams; that makes you the happiest person in the whole universe, but at the same time has the power to make you sadder than the most distant and loneliest star from the Sun?

Just like the one you have on Mingyu?

Momo still doesn’t know how you feel about the tall, black-haired boy, and you aren’t ready to tell her the truth. Partly because you want to protect this thing from the outer world, make it special, make it a secret that can be kept by the two only, and, partly because you’ll face the wall of misunderstanding. You could fool around with the boys before, but now you’re certain with the one who is destined for you. And you can’t – you shouldn’t – seek for another lover. It’s wrong.

The ability to make all your problems yourself will never fail to amaze you.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “If you’re so smart.”

“I could’ve been your mother, though. You should follow my every word.”

“Momo, we literally were born in the same decade,” you sigh, but the girl has no intention to follow any of your words.

[mingyyuu 17:13] it’s so cold today!! stay inside 🖤

[you 17:14] too late :// plans!!

[mingyyuu 17:16] any plans for tomorrow?

[you 17:16] not yet

[mingyyuu 17:17] now you have some!

The boy continues to type, but you have to put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans – you’re awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep, not able to say anything – even a small ‘hello’.

“Soonyoung’s at the dance practice,” Hansol breaks the silence.

“I know his schedule better than he does,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I came for your soul.”

Hansol raises his brows, his eyes never leave yours as he steps aside to let you in. The boy helps you with your jacket, and you mutter a small ‘thank you’, hoping he’ll take the initiative, even despite the fact it’s you who came to talk.

“How are you doin’?” maybe it’s a soulmate thing to read each other’s mind? You look at Hansol and you have a feeling that you’ll never be able to go through the guard around him and straight to his head. His expression is neutral, and you admit that he doesn’t even need to try look beautiful.

“Nothing much,” you response. “What ‘bout you?”

“Okay. Wanna drink something?”

“A pepsi please?”

“We only have a few cans of coke, do you wanna?”

You already feel strange of that crazy amount of questions for the beginning – the situation becomes more and more awkward that you’re able to feel the pressure of the air in the room. Your temples pulse a little, threating a headache.

“Nah, I’m fine then,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I came here to say I’m sorry and-”

“And?”

“Do you think we should be together?”

“It how it works,” he lets out a dry laugh. Hansol looks down to your face, his hand reaches out to stroke your shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

The grip on your temples is too tight to bear, and you let out a heavy pant.

“My head hurts,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut – the light is too bright.

“You need to lie down,” Hansol says. “It’s probably because the temperature difference between inside and outside. I’ll bring painkillers to Soonyoung’s bedroom.”

You nod, heading off to the bedroom. What a great wat to talk - show up at someone’s doorstep just to say you have a headache. Great. Not bothering yourself with discarding your clothes, you collapse stomach-down onto the bed without removing the cover, your face is buried in the soft material.

“Shit, you’ll suffocate if you stay like this,” Hansol’s deep voice wafts on your ears. You slowly lean on your elbows to steal a glance at him. After placing the glass of water and the blister of painkillers at the night stand, he gets down on his haunches, his eyes at the same level as yours. You stay like this for some time, not saying a word, mesmerized by his face.

“What did you do before I came?” you ask out of sudden. Hansol seems to be taken aback with your question.

“Tried to make some music,” he gawks, blinking at you.

“Really?” you ask in a low voice.

“Mostly checked the mic with some ‘yeah’s’ and ‘yo’s’”, he admits, an amusing laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ll try to do something while you’re resting, good?”

You nod you head and smile at him. He gently squeezes your shoulder and stands up. Before he disappears out of the bedroom, you say,

“Do you have any siblings?”

He turns to you, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. You?”

You shake your head no and he nods.

“But it was easy to guess you’re not the only child, though,” it’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but your eyes never leave him.

“How so?”

“You offer a compromise when it's unnecessarily,” you sniggle. “A man of settled habits.”

You see his wide smile in the dark.

You force your eyes open and sit up in the bed, your hair disheveled and slightly damp at the back of your neck. Headache has gone, at least for now, but your throat feels dry. When you come to the kitchen, you see the note in Hansol’s infamous unsteady handwriting left on the counter:

you can find pepsi in the fridge!

You smile at the gesture and inside you sense warmth.

You knock at Hansol’s bedroom door twice and after the boy calls out for your entry, you slip through the door.

Hansol sits at the table, bobbing his head in time with the song that hums from the speakers. His eyes are glued to his laptop, the headphones rest above his ears.

“Does the work go smoothly?” you ask, sitting at the corner of his bed. He turns to face you; a soft smile is playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s okay. There are many things that I think I’m lacking in, but I work on them,” he says in a serious tone. “But I’ve finally finished the song that had been haunting me for weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great!” you beam at him.

“Your snoring from the next room inspired me,” he places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lightly kick his calf, and the boy laughs. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes, he draws his attention back to you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. Nodding, Hansol notices your gaze focusing on the screen of his laptop. There’re the unknown for you tools placed on his table, except for the microphone, of course, and you’re wondering what kind of music he’s into.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks, once again showing his amazing ability to read your mind.

“Yes!” you hearty nod. “Want my headache to be back.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘sure’ under his breath, and places the mouse cursor over the play button. The speakers are small, but even despite it you sense the music vibrate through your body. The beat is harsh, his voice is piercing, and it feels like the most Hansol’s thing he could’ve ever done, but at the same time you’ve got an inkling that the tune and the lyrics were created by his mysterious twin.

“You really made this?” your eyes are wide and your hand clutches hold of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he hums nervously, bringing his free hand to rub at the back of his head.

“It’s good! I can’t believe you haven’t signed a ten-million dollars contract yet!”

“You heard just one song,” he smiles in a protest. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’m right, though,” you say, your hand leaving his as you smile at him. “You should be a star! I can’t say what I liked about it ‘cause I don’t know anything about music, but the whole thing is perfect!”

He looks up to you, your cheeks flushed with passion and your eyes glisten as candles burn bright, and it brings a proud smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts.

“You’re beautiful too,” your words are sincere, filled with pure appreciation you have for this melted chocolate eyed boy. The idea of you frightened of meeting him a few hours ago seems like a pure absurd right now – when the two of you sit that close to each other, you having a string of questions to ask him about his life, interests, hopes and dreams, and on your tongue the whole story of your life is tingling to be uttered at the same time.

“It was unexpected,” he chuckles. “Thanks again.”

“Thanks for the pepsi,” you return. “I thought you had only coke?”

“Um, I went to the convenience store across the street while you were asleep,” he says, his eyes are wandering on the wall. You can hardly take a breath.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. Nodding, you slip off his bed and go toward the window. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a deep breath.

“Is Soonyoung still at the practice?” you ask, your voice is low.

“I guess,” Hansol perches at the windowsill. “I kinda lost track of time.”

You feel the heat his body radiates. Theoretically, you think, you find him somewhat sexy, really manly. His long scraggy neck, broad shoulders, a spectacular torso you can notice even under his oversized t-shirts, and athletic thighs. A month ago, your informant told you that Hansol barely shows up in the gym, and you wonder if the boy was gifted with capability of being perfect without even trying.

And still, he isn’t Mingyu, who makes you feel being in love.

You want to tell Mingyu the truth about your wrong destiny, your aching heart that can be healed with his smile only, and the feeling of your stomach filled with butterflies. You want him to hold your hand, pushing all the doubts and fears away, and make you his. His, despite the cruel joke The Universe played on you.

You think, you have a feeling, he would understand it, because he believes in strength of choice. Mingyu is in a constant state of moving forward, overcoming all obstacles he might face.

Would it be the first time when he stops?

You and Hansol both stay silent till the whole apartment echoes with Soonyoung’s ringing voice.

“Woah, I like the pictures!” Mingyu approves with a hum, adjusting something on his camera. “They’re perfect.”

“Because they’re pictures of me or because it’s you who took them?” you smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you nudge him.

“Let me think,” the boy stops in his tracks, his brows furrow in a fake manner, indicating he is absorbed in his thoughts. “Both.”

“Wow,” you play along, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. “Groundbreaking.”

He giggles and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Wish I could tickle you right now, bit your jacket doesn’t give a chance.”

You shove off his hand and see a small pout forming on his plush lips.

“It’s my protection from pervs like you, Mingyu,” you smile innocently, casting sheeps eyes on him.

“Pervs don’t ask for a permission,” he opposes matter-of-factly. You raise your brows at him in question, and it doesn’t take long for him to explain. “Let me kiss you.”

You raise your head at Mingyu to see him smiling down at you with shining eyes, his cheeks are glowing from the frosty air.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he leans down and kiss you. His lips are warm and sweet, and you never expect to feel care through a kiss as his mouth is covering yours. His hand cups your cheek while the other is placed tightly at the base of your neck. You trace your tongue against his lower lip, his tongue is eager to meet yours. You tease the inside of his mouth, and Mingyu lets out a small groan, which is enough to bring you to senses, and you break the kiss.

“We’re outside, Guy,” you softly remind him, your grip at his forearms is loosen.

“And so?” he whines, tugging at your sleeves to keep you body close to him.

“And we’re late,” you try to reason, but frankly speaking, you better would have stayed in the previous position you shared with Mingyu than going anywhere. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”

The idea of karaoke night seemed promising, to say at least, but with Seungkwan occupying the microphone and Seokmin taking the guise of being his bodyguard, preventing any attempt of borrowing the tool out of his hands, ebullience faded into despair.

Jun is scrolling through his phone, and you find it okay; Soonyoung is busying himself with fourth bowl of ramen in a row, and it begins to worry you; Jihoon is yawning in thirsty eight second intervals, and the fact of you really counting begins to worry you; Mingyu’s playing with your hands, his head rests against your shoulder, you find it normal too.

You toy with his dark hair and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Take me out.”

“Your wish is my command,” Mingyu smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He straightens up off the sofa and extends his hand to you. You stretch out your own hand and place it in Mingyu’s warm palm.

After wrapping everyone, except for Seungkwan who is too absorbed in the singing and waves the two of you off in dismissal, for a goodbye hug, you go downstairs to put the clothes on.

“Stop staring,” you say to Mingyu, catching his gaze in the mirror, a smile parts your lips. You pull up the hood of your jacket and turn to the boy.

“Can’t help it,” he admits, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb is stroking your cheek gently, and he leans to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan says, puckering his face into a frown. “Came to say my goodbye, but this,” he gestures at the two of you.

“Grow up,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders. Seungkwan’s glare bores a hole right through your head, and you can only silently pray for him to not allow his anger upstage his reason.

“Seungkwan, please,” you say. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” the younger boy rolls his eyes. “It’s not me who you should talk to, though.”

“What’s the problem?” Mingyu groans in frustration.

“I don’t know. What’s your problem?” Seungkwan scoffs, shifting his gaze from Mingyu to you and back to Mingyu again.

“It’s none of your business,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood for one of your soap operas.”

You storm out of the building, your blood is boiling with the mixture of anger, fear, and realization of all things you used to have fell to pieces in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, wait,” Mingyu grabs your hand, and you stop, too afraid to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

You’re struck by an incredible sense of fear, of confusion, of vulnerability, but you finally have to face the reality.

“The problem is,” you sigh. “Hansol is my soulmate.”

“Don’t cry,” Soonyoung tries to conciliate you, his hand is rubbing against your back, and he tightens the embrace. “I’m here for you.”

At this point, you even hate yourself for the damp spot on his sweatshirt made with your tears. You want to concentrate on Soonyoung’s words uttered in a small voice, almost whispering, but as you think about Mingyu, about how on his face thoughts and feelings seemed connate – his pained stare said everything, – standing in front of you, you feel a sharp pain in your heart.

“Do you despise me?” your voice sounds desperate.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask such a shitty question to my best friend,” he says. “You’re the best.”

You laugh bitterly. Soonyoung treats you too nicely – without asking why you’d been keeping so many secrets from him till this night, rebuking Seungkwan for standing guard over Hansol’s feelings, promising Mingyu will pay dearly in the nearest future for his superior sense of morality or whatever.

“What about Hansol?” you ask him, your eyes still are full of tears and pain, but you force a small smile.

“Will kick him out,” his voice is firm, and you sink your face into the soft material of his cloth, suppressing a bigger smile that threats to appear on your lips.

“Soonyoung, I’ve made four enemies this year, and it’s only the end of February,” your voice is muffled as you keep pressing your face onto the boy’s chest. “Momo, Mingyu, Hansol, Seungkwan – all of them hate me for being stupid, for not telling the truth, for being a bitch, for-”

“Shh. It’s their problem, not yours. It’s them who won’t survive ‘cause they made enemies of us. Listen to me,” he calls your name, making a passionate appeal. “We’re undefeatable, you and me.”

You lift your head at him, finding him keeping his eyes on the ceiling in a dramatic way, and you snicker. His lips twist into a broad smile, and he looks at you.

“They don’t hate you,” he says. “Life is complicating, so are we. They know about it.”

You meet Mingyu at the library. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

“Seungkwan said Hansol fell for you only after Soonyoung’s countless ramblings about you. He indeed stared at your pics, I suppose.”

He’s in pain.

You feel empty inside; a terrible anguish seizes your heart.

“Do you feel the same about him?” an involuntary question slips off his tongue.

You want to say it’s him, it’s only him who made you fall, who made you feel at ease, who made you want to give and not just to take, but you can’t.

He waits for a response you’ll never be able to come up with.

This night you cry yourself to sleep.

Weeks go by.

The three of you – you, Hansol, and Soonyoung – glue your eyes to the television set placed at the wall of the boys’ living-room. Watching different tv series with them somehow has turned into therapy sessions – despite experiencing triggers at almost everything that is shown, you feel you’re not alone. The two of them act like nothing happened, and all of you are ready to meet your soulmates someday.

But, if nothing happened, why Mingyu’s name is forbidden from saying out loud because it would fill you with pain?

“You have popcorn crumbs on your shirt,” you notice, pointing at Soonyoung with the remote in your hand.

��I preferred watching tv to reading books when i was younger,” the boy says, dusting the crumbs off his torso and lap.

“And it shows,” you tease. Soonyoung gives you a light pinch on the side and straightens up with a huff.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “The bathroom is occupied for the next thirty minutes.”

Hansol nods and bids Soonyoung goodnight as you blow him a kiss – his laughter never fails to boost your mood.

“Resuming?” you ask Hansol. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

It’s completely dark apart from the television’s dim yellow glow. Somehow, you find yourself being distracted by almost everything – the pattern of the wooden floor, the material of the couch, the streetlamp right outside the window, the plant that is going to die soon due to Soonyoung and Hansol’s lack of care.

Hansol.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching you staring at him. You don’t look away.

“Am I more interesting than the show?” he asks, not expecting you reply with a quiet ‘yes’. A blush coloring his cheeks can be spotted even in the poorly illuminated room.

“You’re so shy sometimes,” you remark in a low voice. “You didn’t seem so when I first met you.”

“I felt some courage out of nothing,” he shakes his head, his long and slender fingers tapping his knees. “When I saw you.”

You sigh. How the Universe can be broken? Maybe you’re broken?

“I read that if you’re dealing with schizophrenia your emotions are mixed up – you feel something you shouldn’t have felt and express something you don’t feel.”

“Scientific facts again, huh? You’re referring to me?” he grins.

“To myself, I guess,” there is no smile at your features as you sigh. “Or maybe it’s – I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Hey, I know its not gonna work but I’ll say it anyway,” he reaches out his hand to yours and gently squeezes it. “Don’t think shit about yourself. Don’t say shit,” he pauses. “When the words appeared I was surprised, no shit. But as I find out more and more things about you, all of it start to make sense. I don’t want anyone’s words but yours on me. That’s it. That’s the thing I feel.”

He’s beautiful, you think, very beautiful.

Your eyes wander over his face and finally stop at his lips. The contour of his mouth is perfect – Hansol’s lips aren’t plump, but neither are thin – just perfect – and the little bruise on his lower lip makes you unable to brush your overwhelming desire to have a lick over this exact spot. You hesitate – and even now the image of Mingyu settles on you.

But when you feel Hansol’s lips on yours, you let him in. He claims your mouth passionately, and you slide your hands into his hair, pulling on his locks, and he groans in your mouth. When you pull back for a moment, your eyes flooded with haze, Hansol traces his thumb over your slick with his spit lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans onto you again, his lips ghosting over yours, the redolent scent of his musky cologne makes your head even more dizzy.

“I want you,” he whispers into your lips, his voice is cracking.

“You can have me,” you breathe out, closing your eyes as his lips decorate your neck in sloppy kisses.

You can have me, but can you have my heart?

The question finds lodgment in your mind.

You might lose the thing you love the most, but life goes on… and here we stand.

You’ve discovered you’re an excellent pretender.

Pretend you think nothing of going without sleep for several nights and then attend your classes. Pretend you’re not tired. Pretend you like the tasteless dish in the restaurant Momo brought you to. Pretend it’s not painful to be in the same room with Mingyu. Pretend you love Hansol back.

“My legs are killing me,” Seungkwan whines. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

Same, you think, fucking same.

“Wait a little more and I’ll buy you a hotdog,” Mingyu promises, looking over his shoulder to see you wearily stagger behind them. The combination of the three of you is weird, you find, but life goes on, isn’t it?

It’s May, and the three is you are stuck in Ikea’s mazes – Mingyu needs to buy some new furniture – this is what brings him to the mall, but also Mingyu needs someone to keep him company – and this is what brings you and Seungkwan to the same place. Mingyu calls your name, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in a question.

“You good? How ‘bout a few hotdogs after?”

“And milkshakes,” Seungkwan adds.

“Just an ice cream please,” you mumble, and he nods. Sometimes it’s so awkward – to be around him. Sometimes it’s natural. But mostly it’s painful.

Standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mingyu and Seungkwan while they’re stuffing the things Mingyu bought into the trunk of his car, you dumbly watch the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand.

Damn.

No ice cream can help you feel good even a bit.

You enter Hansol’s bedroom and find him at the wooden floor, lying on his back, eyes closed. With his arms and legs splayed out, he reminds you a giant starfish.

“Are you even breathing?” you chuckle, bending over him.

“I am,” Hansol smiles, his eyes stay closed, and he taps slightly on his chest. “C’mere.”

You oblige, your head nestle against his chest, and you hear his steady heartbeat. He wraps his left arm around you and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes out of sudden, and you turn your head to look at him. “The first words were stupid, and you’ll have them for forever.”

“Suit us very well,” you poke, and he sniffs, reaching out to slightly pinch your cheek. “Hey! Stop!”

Hansol laughs, squeezing you tighter, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing lulls you to sleep. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling as you try to fight against sleep. “You’re so composed, but also so goofy, but also so delicate,” you sigh, thinking out loud as your fingertips trace up and down the soft skin of his wrist. Hansol’s warm. “But the first words were wacky,” you chuckle. “What’ve done to deserve them?”

“It was Russian roulette, baby,” he hums, and you can hear him smiling.

You fall asleep like that. You dream about buying the beige sofa you saw in Ikea and Mingyu’s endless attempts to change your mind – the green one is a way better, he insists. The green one would suit the interior perfectly, you agree with him, but the beige one is so classy, and maybe even a little obligatory? Every apartment should have one, but Mingyu only shakes his head in frustration.

“I'm not sure you’re one hundred percent positive about what you’re convincing me of,” he purses his lips.

Dreams that are hardly can be distinguish from reality are exhausting. You wish there was a way to put this worry to bed once and for all.

“Okay, so the concept of your birthday party is dubstep,” you verify. “And the main dish excepted for a barbeque duck is an ice cream cake?”

“I scream, you scream, gimme that ice cream,” Soonyoung’s enjoyment is evidenced by his wide smile. You playfully roll your eyes, not really hiding the excitement you share with him.

“Why do I feel that we’re constantly hanging out at birthday parties?” Hansol asks, peering at his phone screen, not bothering to straighten his head from its bending position.

“Because our friend group is too huge for people our age,” you make a point.

“It’s so expensive to have a lot of friends,” Soonyoung complains, but when he meets your questionable gaze, he adds. “But for you, my bestie, money’s no object.”

“Good to know,” you laugh, your fingers leisurely run above the rim of the empty cup of matcha latte. “I’m more upset about my dear boyfriend didn’t show any interest in volunteering at preps for the party.”

Hansol smiles, tapping on his phone, his eyes are anchored on the screen, and you narrow your expression at him, shaking your head in a scolding manner.

“And now he pretends he doesn’t hear me,” you say. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Hansol’s face brightens and broadens out into a beaming smile, and the sound of Soonyoung’s giggles fills the air.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to help you,” the older boy suggests, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

“I know you’re saying it for the best of reasons, but Seokmin rather is a distraction than a help,” you debate, and Soonyoung raises his small hands in surrender, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped due to his laugh.

“Okay, I’ll send backup,” he promises. “At the end of the day, Mingyu’s good at cooking and cleaning.”

It would’ve been hard for him not to realize he put his foot in his mouth mentioning Mingyu as the mood tensely shifts. You freeze, alike Hansol, his thumb is hovering over the phone screen for seconds. Soonyoung offers you an apologetic smile, and you smile at the boy back, reassuring him it’s okay – he really did nothing wrong. Hansol’s avoiding your questioning gaze, hiding his eyes behind his curly bangs, and you gently brush a section of his hair from his face, wanting to see him clearly.

“Are you jealous, Sollie?” you try to joke, a soft smile playing on your lips, your hand placed on his cheek. As he raises his eyes at you, nerves are evident in them, your heart sinks, and you feel breathless. He won’t ask you if he should be, he won’t make any scenes – but he may shut himself off, locking his feelings deep inside, and you fear it the most. You don’t mean to hurt him, but you’re still providing him a good amount of pain – he isn’t an idiot who can’t figure out that Mingyu’s never really left your heart.

“No,” he simply says. “I’ll help you with everything.”

“You’re a bigger distraction than Seokmin for me, but how can I say no to my sweet boyfriend?” you take his offer, your thumb is stroking his cheek, and the action soothes away the tension he has. Hansol smiles gently at you, and for a second, you’re wondering if he is as good at pretending as you are.

“How did you manage to rent this beach house?” Soonyoung asks in a pure awe. “Such places are always booked!”

“Nothing’s impossible when you love your friend,” you muse. “Besides, thank Hansol – he used his “music industry contacts” to make you happy.”

“Hey, you insult me using air quotes around ‘music industry contacts’,” Hansol slides his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and places a quick peck on the tip of your nose. You stab him in the chest with your index finger, and he fakes a gasp.

“Eavesdropping?” you ask.

“Learning a lot about me,” he grins and draws his attention to the birthday boy. “Like the party?”

“No shit,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’ll like it better if you dance with me,” he says your name, his eyes sparkle brighter than colorful lights blasting through the house.

“Anything for a five stars rate.”

You’re out of breath, the clothes stick to your covered in sweat body, and you wince.

“I’m done,” you announce to Soonyoung, his batteries fully charged as he continues his active dance.

“Get some fresh air and come back!” he yells over the music, and you nod. Crossing the room to the back porch, you spot Hansol in the corner, talking to Joshua and showing the older boy something on his phone screen. Unnoticed, you go directly to the shore until the music of the party drowns in the sound waves, and inhale warm salty air. The water seems so tempting, calling you to step into the waves, their rhythm is hypnotizing you, and you kick your shoes off, perfectly understand the night water is too cold for swimming.

A familiar voice stops you, calling your name. You turn around, greeted with Mingyu’s tall figure, shining like a bronze statue, his tanned skin sheens magical when graced by the evening sun.

“Why do you always tend to sneak out?” he asks, once he made it up to you, a warm smile already crept onto his mouth as he saw you.

“I don’t know, maybe I just like being in crowds,” you shrug your shoulders – it’s true. You really don’t know the answer. He moves closer to you, and you finally spot a small bouquet in his hand. His eyes follow yours, and he chuckles.

“It’s for you,” he shyly passes you the flowers, his teeth press into his bottom lips. “I passed by those wildflowers on my way here and picked them for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh. “But thank you, I love it,” you say, nuzzling your nose against the tender petals. You look up at the boy and lock your eyes with his, a tickling feeling spreading in your chest. The waves are lapping on the peaceful and quiet shore, but you feel electricity surging through your body. You stand on your tiptoes and place a delicate kiss on his soft cheek, the action is innocent, but for Mingyu it’s like hearing a starting whistle.

“You’re still in my thoughts,” he breathes. “Still here,” he reaches over to grab your hand and place it over his chest, and through your fingertips you’re able to feel his rapid heart. Tears are starting to form at the rim of your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. Your fingers crawl into the flowers he gave you, pressing against the vulnerable stems. “It’s egoistic, I know, you’re dating my friend, your soulmate, but why does it feel like you’re mine?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. The next second you find yourself against his firm chest and you inhale his scent that feels like home. Not a place where you live, but home. He plants a kiss to the crown of your head and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at me,” the golden boy suddenly says. “Please.”

You look up at him and see his eyes briefly dropping to your lips, and despite yourself you feel that familiar tingling in your gut, wanting him to kiss you. He reads you like an open book and he is kissing you, his lips softly press against yours, a tender flavor on your tongue.

“Mingyu,” you whisper in a small voice, pulling out from him. “I can’t. I can’t do this to Hansol.”

The boy looks at you with a pained expression, and in his eyes you can see that he wishes he didn’t have a heart at all.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters, and you nod your head, your heart is swelling at the nickname.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

You lock yourself up in the bathroom, hoping no one saw your state while you were hurrying upstairs. Suddenly, someone tries the handle, but it jingles with no success.

“It’s occupied!” you try your best to sound calm, but your voice is trembling.

“It’s me,” Hansol’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Let me in.”

You turn the lock and face Hansol, your eyes are all red and watery from crying. The boy locks the door behind him and turns to face you, his piercing eyes burn right into your soul.

“You love him,” he says, too delicate to torture you with questions, and you feel even worse – if it’s possible – paralyzed with fear and regrets, guilt eating you inside out, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You let out a wet sob, not being able to look into his sad eyes.

You broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, Sol,” you say, feeling powerless, loss for words to say to him, to explain yourself, to apologize. “I don’t know what should I do. I don’t know what should we do.”

“If he makes you happier than I could,” he looks above your head. “I’ll accept it someday.”

“You don’t deserve this,” you say, feeling so stupid, only wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Maybe soulmates aren’t bond only by romantic shit,” his deep voice comes to you through the mist. You don’t ask him to give you a chance, don’t change his mind – maybe this painful reveal of the truth will make your heart feel a little bit lighter one day, even if right now you’re sure this is never going to happen.

You don’t complain and do not want pity from anyone – you’re sick and tired of Soonyoung tiptoeing around you, trying to keep you from collapsing; of the silent treatment Seungkwan gives you, scornful looks he spares you every single time you see him get you to another level of anger; of a constant scratching sense of guilt you’ve been racked with since your break-up with Hansol, but somehow he never blames you even if he should; of Momo dragging you to the shop malls and making you keep shopping until you cheer up.

Of you can’t getting up the nerve to answer any of Mingyu’s calls, too afraid of something you can’t even describe.

Momo’s straight face catches you off guard, and you only gasp,

“He what?! No, no, no,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“What for?” the girl rolls her eyes back deep into their sockets. “Mingyu invited you to his picnic party or whatever through me cause you’re too deaf to pick up your phone, nothing special.”

“Will you come with me?” your eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, your expression makes Momo give you her infamous crinkly-eyed smile.

“He didn’t ask me to come – only you,” she purrs, taking her lip gloss out of the small bag. “He’s so fucking in love with you, you little witch.”

“I-” you stutter, the crimson red blush spreads across your cheeks, and Momo laughs and gives you a playful shove.

“Don’t you dare to say no,” she warns. “You’ll deal with me.”

“What would I do without you, Momo?” you smile at her. Even if you asked playfully, you really mean it – and the warmth in your chest proves it.

Mingyu seems nervous as he clumsy steps into your apartment, his chest is tensed with the breath he holds. The boy is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and high-wasted velvety pants, and you sigh in relief – the picnic party - as Momo called it - obviously wasn’t planned as something fancy.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you smile.

“Thanks for coming. Means a world,” he says, poking his cheek with his tongue, a shy smile follows his words. You missed him. Missed everything about him – the small giggles he lets while talking with that slight lisp to you, the shake of his head when he can’t understand something, the pout appearing on his plump lips when he realizes the item he wanted to buy is out of stock, the bright smile beaming on his face while he spills out his ideas for photography, the warmth of his palm holding yours in the pocket of his woolen coat.

“Who else is gonna be there?” you ask during your drive to the beach – Mingyu found the place perfect for a picnic, especially in the hot summer.

“Um,” he hesitates for a moment, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” you breath. “I see. Momo didn’t tell me.”

“Blame yourself for leaving me on read,” he grins obnoxiously and you roll your eyes defensively. “Now you’re stuck with me. I forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Which one?” you rake your eyes over him, admiring how the sun’s rays paint his skin in a golden glitter. “It’s a date.”

You dig your toes into the cool sand, glancing into the evening sky. Mingyu follows your eyeline.

“You can’t see the stars for reflected light from the city,” you notice. “But here we have a chance.”

“No way,” Mingyu protests. “And you know why?”

“Why so?” you turn your face to him, a big smile spread on his lips.

“All Seoul’s stars are in your eyes,” he is smiling so wide that his cheeks must have hurt and he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you, tugging you into his lap.

“Shut up,” you laugh, smacking him on the chest, your fingers touching the soft fabric of his shirt. Mingyu’s lips are ghosting over your cheek for a moment before he speaks again,

“But I have lots of things to say,” Mingyu murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe, and a very familiar feeling creeps up into the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?”

“Like, let’s swim,” he takes you aback with the suggestion and you blink at him dumbly. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit with me,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re alone here. No one’ll see.”

You push up from his body and meet his eyes glossy with playfulness and challenge, and you nod at his words. Mingyu grinning at you mischievously, while he removes his clothes – his shirt and pants find their place at the sand – as you see each piece of his skin revealing itself. You inhale deeply, and he leans his head closer to yours, the warm palms rubbing up and down your arms.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and you’re surprised he can tell this just from your body language, and it makes your heart flutter, pounding even faster against your ribcage. His words encourage you, and he silently watches you removing your dress, the only pieces of clothing on your skin are your bra and panties. Mingyu gently squeezes your hand, his thumb softly strokes back and forth over your knuckles. “Catch me.”

And within a couple of seconds, he is already pushing into the water, everything below his waist out of sight. You slowly step onto the sparkling waves, a lazy smile playing on your lips, as you see Mingyu splashing over to you with a childish pout on his face.

“You’re supposed to catch me, but you don’t even try,” he whines and steps closer to you, pressing his hands to either sides of your neck, his thumb rubbing the hollow of your throat. He looks dreamlike with his skin stick from the water, making him glisten in the soft evening light.

“It’s not the only thing I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I was born to live without you, remember?” you whisper against his wet lips as he leans over you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he hums, letting his fingers brush against the words inked on your side. “I don’t need to be told who I love.”

You’d been feeling like you were drowning for too long, drowning in the cool water of sorrows, doubts, and self-destruction for too long, but only now you can breathe -

“You love me?” you say in a quiet voice, almost as if it was a secret, and the soft look on his face makes your heart skip a beat, overflowing with love and affection.

“I do. So I ask you to stay with me,” he pleads. Not just for tonight, not for tomorrow morning, but-

“Take me home.”

Rattling keys, the sound of giggles stopped with the kisses, Mingyu’s hot mouth on your pulse point, your hands tugging at his black silk locks, and the heavy weight of the wall meets your back.

“Right in the corridor?” you hum, panting into his ear. “Where is your decency, Kim Mingyu? Not bringing your lady to the bedroom is-” Mingyu doesn’t let you finish, forcing his leg between yours. He is grinning at you with his bottom lip between his teeth as he guides your hips into motion against his thigh, satisfied with the garbled moan ripped from your throat. Bringing his lips to the side of your neck again, Mingyu plants wet kisses on the soft skin. He licks your ear, gently tugging the lobe between his teeth. When the boy releases the tender flesh, he hisses,

“This… you made me forget about my good manners,” Mingyu drawls and attaches his lips to your throat. His voice is sweet, but the material of his pants is rough and the combination drives you crazy, whimpering into the air between you, your clit aching.

“Please,” you whine, grinding yourself harder against him.

Suddenly, Mingyu smiles, brightly and happy, before his lips press into yours, his tongue mapping your mouth. The boy lifts you up and it gives you an opportunity to kiss his neck in return, biting red marks into his tanned skin. Then, ever so carefully, Mingyu places you on the soft surface of the bed, kissing you passionately, but slower, trying to find out what you like the most.

“Can I take your clothes off, please?” he whispers in your mouth and you moan, your hands gripping into his biceps.

“Good manners are back,” you coo. “Go ahead.”

Mingyu helps you to sit up, undoing the upper buttons of your summer dress, kissing the skin it exposes, and finally pulling it over your head.

“Don’t forget to take the rest off too,” you breathe, and his lips stretch into a smile. His arms twist behind your back and then he is sliding the fabric down your arms and tossing it away.

“Do you want me to touch you, princess?” Mingyu murmurs, the tip of his nose traces the side of your neck as his fingers are ghosting over the wetness of your panties.

“Like you don’t know the answer already,” you hiss and he chuckles, his hands move to palm your breasts. You bite your lower lip when he rolls your nipple between his fingers before slowly circling it, a blush slowly creeps down your neck. His mouth finally covers your nipple as his warm palms are parting your thighs, his fingers firmly pressed against the skin. Without being told, you rise your hips to help him remove your soaked panties.

Mingyu sits back on his haunches and marvel at your spread thighs and the pretty wet curves, and your legs separate to make room for him beyond your control.

“You’re so pretty,” he admires, his eyes – glassy with desire and adoration – don’t leave your face. His palm slides up from your hip over your stomach and further still, gently cupping your breast.

“Gyu,” you plea, but before you can even think about the words, Mingyu tosses his shirt somewhere behind his back, already yanked his slightly ruined with your wetness pants and the underwear to the floor.

Then, he is putting his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before slowly bringing them to your pussy, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your slit. You moan and he takes it as an invitation, drawing a circle around the hood of your clit. Craving for more, you shamelessly grind your hips into his palm, your fingers grasping at the sheets.

“Baby, I want to taste you so bad,” Mingyu purrs, thrusting his fingers into your pussy down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of his fingertips dragging against your pulsing walls, and he increases the pace of his digits inside of you. “You smell so good.”

His words only sending you near delirious. But his tongue feels even better.

Mingyu runs the flat of his tongue up to your clit, humming happily at the moan escaped through your red and swollen lips, your fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on your thighs is firm, screaming lust in big neon letters. He sucks on your clit, focusing his hot mouth on the swollen bundle of nerves, as he is pulling and pushing his fingers through your entrance.

The boy groans deeply, nuzzling his pretty face deeper into your core. The delightful pleasure clings to your stomach, swells at you abdomen. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, the back arching off the bed with a high-pitched cry. Mingyu is leaning over your, adjusting his body on his elbows supporting him either side of your body. His breath is tickling the skin of your neck and you giggle, your hand lazily draws some patterns onto his back. The boy silently observes your features while you reach down to his cock, lubricating it with his pre-cum. Mingyu groans, but you swallow the sound with your mouth, your tongue catching on flesh of his mouth that tastes like you. He is desperately grinding against your stomach, the tip of his dick leaving a wet trail over your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips and, slowly and carefully, positions the reddened head to your entrance. You wrap your legs around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as Mingyu buries himself deep inside you. He presses his teeth on your collarbone as he hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his delicious thrusts.

Mingyu is here – his arms caging your face, his mouth never leaves yours, and his chest is pressed tight against yours – Mingyu is here and you love each other.

He rolls his hips against you, sinking his cock into your heat, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Suddenly, he speeds up, pulling an extremely loud moan from you. Feeling you clench around him, Mingyu groans and lowers himself to suck on your nipple, muffling the sounds he makes against your skin.

“Let it go,” he pants out and you oblige, a gasp tumbles from your lips as your fingers curling in his hair. Your walls spasm around his cock, enveloping it with your release. He thrusts in you, his cock twitching inside of you before he lets out a drawn moan. He stills in you as his cock milking your pussy, panting loudly. He opens his dark eyes and his face softens for you as he places a gentle kiss on the side of your jaw.

“We weren’t meant for each other,” you whisper, your hand playing with his damp locks. “But I love you more than anything.”

“We are meant for each other,” Mingyu is persistent. “Since our first meeting.”

“Okay,” you give in.

“I win,” his smile is radiant in the night, and his eyes hold the whole universe in them.

You never thought of you as a rule breaker. No one did.

With each day Mingyu helps you realize you shape the universe you live in.

And you ask him to make your nose look smaller at the portrait of you he have been painting for two weeks already.

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acupoftea1418 · 3 years

Text

Hogwarts Express

Pick up line series // Jung Yunho

Hey guys, here’s a Yunho one shot. Tbh, I don’t know much about Harry Potter but I really do hope my facts are right.

Anyways, enjoy!

‘’Is this the Hogwarts Express? Because it feels like you and I are headed somewhere magical.’’

‘’They say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. Well apparently, no one has ever been standing next to you.’’

Word count: 2.3K

‘Rise and shine sleepyhead!’ The loud voice who belonged to Yunho woke you up from your dreams.

Groaning in disappointment, you pulled the edge of the duvet closer to your head and cuddled into the duvet. The scent of Yunho on the duvet was really what makes you sleep at night.

You didn’t know you craved so much for his scent.

When you weren’t with him in the dorms, you’d usually steal a hoodie or two of his to be worn as pajamas during the night.

‘5 minutes.’ You mumbled, falling into deep slumber again. Yunho kept you up all night last night, educating you about Harry Potter. He was such a nerd, but you loved it. It was what makes him special. You had almost little to no knowledge on Harry Potter (A/N; I really do not so bear with me on this.)

‘No!’ Yunho cried out. He jumped onto the bed and pulled you by your arms. His strong arms engulfing you in a hug as he caressed your body on his.

‘It’s like 5 in the morning, Yunnie.’ You mumbled. You were sure you had a max of 2 hours sleep, keeping the baby (your boyfriend, Yunho) entertained as he talked about Harry Potter with so much passion.

You loved it when he story tells and talks on and on about the things he likes. It’s absolutely adorable and you know it makes him really happy.

He pulled you to the edge of the bed before carrying you bridal style out of the room.

When the both of you entered the living room (with you in his arms), you could see everyone was awake and had the most tired faces.

It was Yunho’s birthday and the boys and you planned to bring him to Universal Studios, knowing his absolutely love for Harry Potter. The other boys loved Harry Potter too but at this point everyone was just really tired.

It was set that everyone to leave at 7 in the morning. It was 5 am. Why the hell did Yunho wake you up when it takes almost an hour more for everyone take turns in using the bathroom.

You’ve always wondered how the sequence in using the bathroom was in their dorm since they only had 2 bathrooms. You didn’t really mind as you can just hop in the shower when it’s Yunho’s turn.

Wooyoung and San were dozing off.

Mingi looked like he was about to punch someone, as if something small could just set him off.

Hongjoong was fast asleep (again) with his head leaning on Seonghwa’s shoulders and Seonghwa rested his head on Yeosang’s shoulders. Meanwhile, Jongho was sprawled across the living room floor with soft snores coming from him.

The car ride to Universal Studios was intensely quiet. The younger boys were snoring slightly. Their manager was driving. You had your head rested on Yunho’ shoulder. You could tell he was trying really hard not to doze off.

‘We’re here.’ The manager announced and you swear you were almost shoved to the side because of how fast Yunho got up.

‘Remember, we meet here by 11 pm okay?’ The manager said. The boys nodded before running towards the entrance. Yunho pulling you as you tried to keep up with his pace. Damn bloody long legs!

For the boys that dozed off in the car, they sure were energetic as heck.

The line wasn’t that long, and the group had express access to the park the tickets were bought beforehand.

You were excited to see how Yunho would react to the party later. The boys and you planned for almost months. You really hoped he liked it.

The group didn’t split up and it really didn’t feel like you were on a date. It was more of like a field trip with your best buds. They were, after all your closest friends. You knew Mingi when you were in high school and when he left suddenly, you still kept in touch with him. You were there since they debuted and somehow you ended up falling for Yunho.

The events of how you and Yunho became boyfriend and girlfriend were still a blur to you. The signs at first were super subtle and you were so confused. The both of you shed a lot of tears to be together, it’s hilarious when you think of it now.

Occasionally when the boys went out for trips, they always included you. They knew when to give you and Yunho time alone and they know when to be around.

You never felt awkward at all with them.

The 9 of you got on many rides, even getting drenched in a few rides. You were grateful when Yunho covered his entire body (which engulfed you) and prevented you from getting more drenched.

Lunch time came around but the group did not want to stop getting on the attractions, so lunch went by with occasionally a shared bucket of popcorn for each person.

Jongho even managed to sneak in a small tiny chocolate bar which the 9 of you pathetically divided into smaller pieces.

Night came not long after. The Wizarding World of Harry Potter was left as the last as it was where the surprise will be held.

You enjoyed your time with Yunho, especially when the group entered The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Yunho was so happy, your heart almost exploded. He even said the cheesiest pick up line.

‘Baby!’ He called out.

‘Why?’ You asked. It was so random, like he was suddenly struck with an idea.

‘I’ve got a pick up line for you!’ He beamed. He knew pick up lines make you cringe but he ain’t losing this chance to tell it to you, especially when the pick up line was Harry Potter related, perfect for the occasion.

‘Alright, hit me with it.’ You chuckled.

’Is this the Hogwarts Express? Because it feels like you and I are headed somewhere magical.’ He said, giving a loud chuckle after that which you followed along.

‘That was so cheesy!’ you mentioned.

It was then, you knew, you loved him, and you would do anything just to see him smile.

He has a Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck and he wore the robe, holding onto his own wand (which he managed to bring). He mentioned that you looked like someone that would come from Hufflepuff, so he had wrapped the Hufflepuff scarf around you.

He was so precious. The way his eyes lit up when you walked through the entrance.

Often people were intimidated by the strength he has but never shows and his height.

He knew you weren’t comfortable with dark places and occasionally he would squeeze your hand in his to assure you that he was here, and you were safe.

The boys decided to leave the both of you, to prepare for the surprise as you were going to distract Yunho as the boys set up the venue.

It was going to be a small celebration with a cake with some balloons to surprise him in front of Alnwick Castle. The company has chipped in some money together with the 8 of you, aside from Yunho in renting the place after opening hours. You knew it was hard to throw a party when they were idols, as it will only attract more attention than it normally would.

Yunho and you walked around for a bit, trying on cute costumes from the souvenir shop.

You even told him you wanted to try a butterbeer which his eyes lit up. He didn’t know you knew all these, and it literally showed him that you do care and you do listen,

And of course, you would.

You loved Yunho.

You would want to know and indulge into things he likes too.

He loves Harry Potter, even if sometimes he talks a little too much about it, you still respected him. Just like how he respects you when you went on about the things you like.

The both of you were two different people, with two different personalities and liking different things.

The key core to a relationship, isn’t about love. It’s about tolerating, caring and give and take.

Yunho was the best thing that has ever happened to you, even though there were many sleepless nights from you worrying about him and his health when he tries and pushes himself too hard before concerts.

When he calls you at night, he looked tired and despite being worn out he made time for you.

Often as he is pale, it was always noticeable when he looked tired and constantly, you’re worried for him.

Of course, in a relationship there will be fights as well but he never raises his voice and he always try to reach out after the feud. That was what you loved about him.

‘Are you okay?’ Yunho asked. You didn’t know you zoned out thinking about him.

‘Yeah, I am.’ You answered, giving him a soft smile.

‘Are you sure? You looked like you’re about to cry.’ He laughed, sipping onto his butterbeer. You’ve decided to share as you didn’t know if you’ll like it. He mentioned that you could get one for yourself if you do like it.

‘I was just thinking,’ You trailed off, looking at him as your gaze poured into his eyes.

You always loved his eyes. They were always so sparkly and bright.

‘Oh no! When you think, we always end up investing on something!’ He joked, remembering the time where you convinced him that buying a vacuum cleaner for his room would be essential, not it sits in dust and Seonghwa constantly pesters the both of you if he can use it.

‘Hahahaha, no baby, I was thinking about how much I love you.’ You said. He froze and his eyes widened.

‘Why? What’s wrong?’ You panicked.

‘No, it’s just that you never said I love you before.’ He said.

It was true. You always knew you liked him but you weren’t sure if you really did love him yet. But today, you confirmed it.

‘Oh..’ You trailed off, not knowing what to say or do.

‘I love you too.’ He smiled.

‘I love you so much.’ He said again, leaning in for a kiss. He kissed you on the lips and on the forehead. He knew you love forehead kisses. It was romantic as he was so much taller than you.

The both of you sat together, hands intertwined with the view of Alnwick Castle. It was romantic, even if it was just silence. This thumb caressing and soothing over your hand. He loved playing with your fingers.

You’ve always felt safe when you were with Yunho.

You knew,

He was your protector.

He was your happiness.

He was your everything.

He was your forever.

You had your head rested on his shoulders.

People started to leave. It was almost empty. You knew it was about time before the others will appear. Your phone vibrated, signaling that they were ready.

‘Babe, I’m going to head to the toilet for a second.’ You said, standing up. Usually Yunho would wait outside the toilet for you but you told him you’ll be alright.

You exited the restaurant and immediately saw the familiar faces. Seonghwa was holding onto the cake. The candles arranged prettily. The other boys had on party hats and Wooyoung somehow got himself tangled up with the balloons.

San had the lighter but you weren’t sure if you really trust him with it.

Seonghwa took careful steps as they approached Yunho. Yunho had no idea as his back the 8 of you.

You skipped silently towards him, leaning your head and resting it on his shoulder before planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

‘Happy birthday baby.’ You whispered before the loud booming voice of the one and only Jung Woo Young echoed through the area.

Yunho was so surprised, he almost cried. The entire time, he had his hand grasped tightly onto yours.

The boys sang the birthday song and Yunho blew out the candles.

Just as soon as he blew the candles, fireworks lit up in the sky from the castle. It was so pretty. Yunho was in awe.

And somehow, he managed to get the boys to capture a really cringey photo of the both of you kissing with the fireworks going on in the background. (It’s his new wallpaper now)

He really had no idea that this would happen.

Still starstruck, you fed a piece of cake to Yunho that Seonghwa had took the role in cutting.

He hummed in satisfaction.

‘It’s so good!’ He claimed.

‘It tastes just like how you always bake my favourite!’ He said again, making eye contact with you. Little did he know that you really made the cake. Why else were you so tired? You stayed up making him the cake the day before and had it kept in the office. Yunho didn’t know why you came over the day before the trip, he simply thought you missed him (which he, of course, missed you too).

The boys sat around, talking, laughing and eating cake.

The car ride home to their dorm was a quiet one. The boys, falling asleep as usual. Only Seonghwa and Mingi were wide awake, but both were playing on their phones.

‘Did you enjoy today?’ You asked, hands intertwined with Yunho’s.

‘I did, and you know what baby?’ He asked.

‘Yeah?’

‘They say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. Well apparently, no one has ever been next to you.’ He said, before crashing his lips onto yours.

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yatorihell · 3 years

Text

In The Darkness Chapter 60 - Back to Hogwarts

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 2,221

Summary: The trio are back to school. Do things get worse before they get better?

A fluff-ish birthday present for myself

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

The summer passed before Yato could even think about going back to school. Most days he stayed at home – not his should-be home at Grimmauld Place –, but Yukine’s house where he had stayed for the past few years.

He was thankful he hadn’t left anything important at Grimmauld Place; he’d yet stepped foot back in that house, the emotions would be too raw to handle without falling apart altogether. Ebisu, the freed house-elf, had stayed in residence with the assurance that he would maintain the house and look after Buckbeak and Coo Phone until Yato came back - if he ever did.

Yato may have gone mad if it wasn’t for Yukine’s company and the frequent visits from Hiyori, making distractions to keep him from the headlines of wizarding tabloids that speculated where the Sorcerer was, or what attack he was planning next.

However, today the Daily Prophet brought some good news. There was a new Minister of Magic; a small woman with long, white hair that spilled down her back and eerily pale eyes that stared back at Yato from the news pages. Amaterasu, they called her; a new Minister who promised hope and strength, crackdowns on the Dark Arts, and vigilance.

As for Yato, no visions plagued him, nor invasions that split his head open and made him claw his way back to reality. But he would admit only to himself that the all-encompassing rage that had bled into his heart that night at the Department of Mysteries would creep into his nightmares with insidious intent to turn him, to make him see reason in the Dark Arts, to join the Sorcerer. Until Sakura, smiling softly and weaving into his dreams amongst the darkness, would make the darkness recede for the night and Yato would wake up with tears on his face.

It seemed the darkness had let him be in peace for now, as long as Sakura was there.

Yato sighed. It really was a miserable birthday. Now seventeen and in his final year at Hogwarts, Yato had no idea what to do with himself, and he would be even more lost without Hiyori and Yukine to keep him company in their final year.

The distant clatter of dished in the kitchen reminded him that the pair were both downstairs waiting for him, hopefully not with a lavishly small yet sad party. He wouldn’t mind cake, though.

Yato brushed his teeth and plucked at his mop of hair, deciding it would be a lost cause to battle it before showering. He made his way downstairs, the sunlight dazzling him as it shone in through the window and backlit the light, orange curtains that framed it. The kitchen was a mess of dishes and icing sugar and cake batter, and a gentle scent of sweetness emanating from the oven that Hiyori had just closed.

“Anything for me?” Yato asked.

Hiyori spun around, the loose hairs from her ponytail and fringe whipping around her face. She shoved her oven-gloved hands as if they would reveal what she and Yukine were up to, despite the batter on her clothes and the tell-tale sprinkling of flour over Yukine’s blue apron.

“Not yet,” Yukine replied. He didn’t seem too bothered about being caught in the act – it was to be expected as Yato always woke up just before noon.

Yukine untied the apron strings behind his back and took it off over his head. “Happy birthday, old man.”

“Happy birthday!” Hiyori chimed in. She had removed her oven mitts and placed them on the side, highlighting the three small presents on the countertop.

Yato’s eyebrow quirked at the biggest, lumpiest, broom-shaped object that lay against the drawers. It was wrapped haphazardly in brown parcel paper and string with no note.

Yukine caught Yato’s look and smirked, knowing what he was thinking. “No, I didn’t buy you a new broom. I got Ebisu to send your Nimbus over so we can try out for Quidditch again.”

Yato blinked. They had left their teams following the Triwizard Tournament, and even then the entire Quidditch Cup had been cancelled that year. The Sorcerer’s return among other things had left no time for Quidditch between the Order of the Phoenix and exams.

“Why are we trying out for Quidditch, again?” Yato asked, rather stupidly.

Hiyori rolled her eyes. “It’s your last year at Hogwarts, you need to go out in a blaze of glory. You don’t want to disappoint your fans.”

Yato’s look lingered on Hiyori at the word ‘fans’. She had been, in fact, a fan of his since she saw him play for the first time. He wondered if that was still the case.

“That is,” Hiyori continued, “if you can beat me?”

Yato caught the smirk and roll of the eyes as Yukine turned away, his hands dipping into the mess of the kitchen sink as he began to tackle the mountain of dishes. Yato grabbed the parcel and threw it into his opposite hand, catching it without breaking eye contact. He smirked at Hiyori and ripped the paper off the broom in one fell swoop.

“That will be no problem at all.”

Yato’s other presents turned out to be a Potions for Dummies book from Yukine, who had caught wind that Yato had barely passed his Potions O.W.L.s exams the previous year. Yato groaned but thanked him regardless. He would have to start reading it if he wanted to pass his N.E.W.T.s. from Hiyori, new Quidditch gloves made of moleskin, tailored for the harsher Quidditch months in the winter.

The final present was more of a sentimental piece Ebisu had also sent over – Sakura’s wand case. Her actual wand had been lying on his bedside for months after Madame Kofuku had returned it to him, but now he could lay it to rest and keep it safe. Yato smiled down at the box and slipped it into his trouser pocket without a word.

“I’m gunna go get dressed.”

Yukine hummed in response to Yato’s announcement, dish suds up his arms already and small bubbles floating down to his bare feet, whereas Hiyori made a few noises that sounded like ‘okay’ as he flashed an appreciative smile at her.

Only when Hiyori saw him like this did she find herself lingering on him for a tad longer, her chest burning at the lazy smiles he so often threw her way. She pretended not to notice the way her heart flipped over. Half-awake and hair spiked up like a road-kill magpie, toothpaste in the corner of his lips and its scent that just about reached her as he turned away, blue eyes that could kill a girl…

Hiyori turned the thoughts away and pushed down the warming buzz in her cheeks and shoved the oven mitts back on.

Now was not the time for romance.

The Hogwarts Express rolled out of Kings Cross Station at eleven o’clock on an unusually foggy September morning.

The carriages and hallways were once again alive with first-year students on their way to their brand-new school, robes and all their precious things packed and stored away in small towers in the rear carriages. Yato, Hiyori and Yukine fought their way into an empty compartment and tried to ignore the whizzbangs and pops of colour that would explode every now and again against their doors window, and settled into the long slug ahead of them.

Yato buried his head in his Potions for Dummies book, ignoring the scenery change from urban metropolis to rolling fields and grazing sheep the further north they ventured. He grumbled every now and again, swearing that he would have to use all his free periods to do Potions if he stood a chance.

Hiyori smiled at the top of Yato’s head before glancing back out of the window, seeing the rising peaks of distant mountains over the top of Yukine’s head that signalled that they were nearly there.

The sky had begun to darken as the Hogwarts Express rolled over the outskirts of Hogsmeade when Yato threw his book back into his bag.

Yato groaned loudly and stretched his arms up until his fingers touched the ceiling. “I’m starving, I’m going to get something for the ride up to school. Want anything?”

Yukine and Hiyori both shook their heads in reply – they had been smart enough to bring lunch rather than try to get in on the pumpkin pasties, a feat that Yato was going to try and accomplish now. With a grumble, Yato ventured out of the carriage.

The hallways were quiet except for a few loose chocolate frogs that fled from the sound of Yato’s muffled footsteps on the plush red carpet. The blinds were drawn on almost every compartment he passed through, no doubt first-year students changing into their robes in preparation for their introduction to the school.

The train clattered and rattled, swaying Yato from side to side as he made his way further down the train. Yato felt his way down the corridor, the distant lights from sleepy villages not enough to light his way and the filtered lights from compartments only sending slivers of gold onto the floor.

Yato paused, his ears detecting the faintest noise that sounded like a whimper. He looked behind himself, finding the hallway as vacant as before. He took a step, shrugging it off before it came again.

A squeak of the train? A branch against the window?

Yato frowned and his eye caught on the compartment door on his left, slightly ajar and rocking back and forth on its railings with dull, methodical thumps.

“You good in there?” Yato asked. The interior was dark aside from the occasional orange flicker that flashed through the window, apparently vacant until the noise came again.

“Help…”

The faintest voice had Yato startled, but within the next second his hand was pushing the door wide open, his voice catching in his throat and one foot in the room that exploded with blue light.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Yato’s body jolted, every joint locking into place and making him keel over face-first into the compartment. He pushed the air from his lungs in a groan, his words trapped and unable to see who was pulling on his shoulders, dragging him fully into the compartment.

Short breathes came from his attacker, followed by a sweetly vindictive voice. “Father wants to have a word with you, Yaboku.”

Nora.

Yato wanted to curse her but all he could manage was another forced grunt, his nose pressed into the carpet that smelled like hundred-year-old pastries. He could feel the train gliding to a halt, accompanied by the growing swarm of students flooding out onto the platform.

“I’ll see you at home, Yaboku.” Nora stepped around Yato, her school robes brushing against his face and the door slamming shut behind her.

Yato wheezed another breath out, willing someone to come to find him, but the clamour outside and the dimness of the carriage would blot out his paralyzed body lying on the floor until the spell wore off. By that time, he would be well on his way back to London.

Agonising minutes passed, Yato fighting the immovable curse to the point of exhaustion until he was breathing shallow and rapid. This was it. He was going back to Father to be delivered on a silver platter to the Sorcerer.

The door slammed open with an almighty crash, jolting Yato from his thoughts of impending doom through his body remained perfectly still. He heard the faint gasp and swear behind him that was quickly followed by an uttered spell.

“Finite!”

Yato felt his joints unlock, aching despite only being bound for a short time and his jaw relaxed. He reached out his arms and faltered for a holding like a baby deer, cursing under his breath. He felt a hand under each armpit, being dragged up from the ground by Yukine and Hiyori along with questions of ‘are you okay?’ and ‘what the hell happened to you?’

“Nora.” Yato grunted, rolling his lower jaw and trying to make it feel less like melting butter. Yukine and Hiyori exchanged a look behind Yato’s back, their grip loosening as Yato got his bearings and exhaled. “She said Father was after me.”

Hiyori’s hand still rested on his upper arm, concern etched in her face. They hadn’t seen Nora since the Forbidden Forest when the centaurs had taken Oshi. She hadn’t even been present at the end-of-year feast, though Yato suspected she left straight after returning his mirror after she fled the forest.

Now she was back and trying to kidnap Yato.

“We saw her on the platform, she looked like she was in a rush,” Yukine replied bitterly.

Yato grumbled in return. If Father’s only option was to snatch him right outside of school, then it must have meant that he didn’t know where he nor Yukine lived. That was something to be thankful for at least.

The clamour outside on the platform had died down to a diminishing racket, students vanishing into the forest to load onto Thestral-drawn carriages that would take them to Hogwarts.

They would have a long wait to get to the castle, and something already told them that this year would not be better than the last.

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yato #yukine #hiyori #iki hiyori #nora #my writing #hp au #harry potter au #in the darkness

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thrill-cfthechase · 3 years

Text

feelin’ twenty-two

tw: pregnancy, death, alcoholism, verbal abuse, creepy men

november 4th was elliot’s least favorite day of the year. it was never a day of celebration in the chase household, instead a day of forced smiles and words left unspoken. it was her birthday, but it was never preceded by a ‘happy.’ it was a somber occasion, a day of mourning. when she was young the people in her neighborhood would get her a cake and little gifts to make up for the party that her father never threw, but she could tell they were behaving differently than they did on other kids’ birthdays. she was nearly four when she found out that her mother had died after giving birth to her, and while she didn’t understand death, she knew she had done something wrong. on her fourth birthday she threw a fit. it was a nasty tantrum that the chases and all of sunset park tried to forget, but elliot would always remember the first time she remembered thinking i want my mom.

she wasn’t sure how old she was when her father stopped acknowledging her birthday, but she could tell he knew what day it was because he was always even drunker and angrier than usual and able to find new and creative ways to get mad at her that didn’t involve the death of her mother. her brothers would take her out for ice cream and she would eat her mint chocolate chip in silence while they watched her, foreheads etched with concern. some years they saved up enough money to buy her a gift, but she would never play with it. she didn’t feel like it was deserved. on her seventh birthday her brothers took her mini-golfing and they let her win. it made her furious. they never took it easy on her ever, and the last thing she wanted was for them to coddle her. she just wanted it to be like every other day. that night she found her oldest brother, tucker, crying. he was fourteen and far too proud to let people see him cry, one of many traits of toxic masculinity that managed to make it’s way into elliot. she didn’t know what to do or how to comfort him so she said nothing and went to her room, staring at the cracks in the ceiling above her bed until the sun rose the next morning.

by her twelfth birthday tucker had moved out for college, and that year her other brother, forrest, had a soccer game in a town two hours away. she got a confetti cake from her next door neighbor, mrs. casey, and spent the evening doing homework in her room while she ignored the sound of her father yelling at the tv. elliot thought she was being sneaky when she tiptoed into the kitchen to get another slice of cake for dinner, that the tv would mask any noise she made despite the fact that the la-z boy her father sat at was only a few feet away from the fridge. when he turned to tell her to give him another beer she was so startled that she dropped her cake on the floor. as she sat on the cold tiles and cleaned up the mess she’d made the drumming of her heartbeat in her ears was almost loud enough to drown out the insults being thrown at her. when forrest got home that night he made a joke about elliot not saving him any cake. she told him to go fuck himself and he called her a bitch. she still hates funfetti.

the night of elliot’s sixteenth birthday was spent in a stolen dress at a hotel bar downtown with a man twice her age. she pretended to believe he wasn’t married and he pretended to believe she was twenty-one. they talked for a few hours, with elliot at her most charming and gracious in a way that people who really knew her would find laughable. she was still new to this type of con, the kind that required her to be a lady, but it worked, and she left with his watch, two credit cards, and four hundred in cash. she was gone by the time he realized anything was missing. when she got home her father seemed surprised to see her, like he hadn’t realized she wasn’t in her room all night. he had never seen elliot in makeup before, and the fact that he was now seeing it at two in the morning didn’t seem to sit right with him. “if your mother was here she’d be so disappointed in you. but she’s not here, is she?” it might have been the most tame thing he said to her, but felt like the cruelest by far. those were the words that echoed in her head as she lay awake in bed with gus, her fourteen year old dog, asleep on her chest. he weighed twenty-five pounds but the weight on her lungs didn’t bother her - the ability to breathe didn’t seem particularly important.

elliot’s twentieth birthday was a little over two months into her first year at gallagher. she didn’t intend on telling anyone, but it felt strange to be another year older in a place that still felt foreign to her. she confided in the two people she had grown to truly trust - ellie and kass. kass even baked her a cake, and something compelled elliot to give her a hug. she wasn’t usually physically affectionate, but no one had baked her a cake in years, and she couldn’t help feeling a little sentimental. as soon as kass left she had to scrape the “happy birthday” off the cake so that no one else could see it, but for the first time she could remember, she was a little glad it was her birthday.

elliot looked at her phone. november 4th, 2020, 12:01 a.m. the two hardest things for her to say were ‘i love you’ and ‘i’m sorry,’ but on this day she felt the need to say both to her brothers.

“hey, i know u don’t like it when i apologize on this day, but it’s my birthday and that’s what i want to say. i’m sorry u lost her. thanks for never telling me it was my fault. i love u,” she texted them.

it was only nine o’clock in seattle and she immediately got a text back from her oldest brother. “you’re going to dismiss everything i say, but i need you to know that i love you. raising you has made me the man i am today, which is cheesy but it’s true. it’s not fair to you that you had to deal with all of my mistakes, but i believe that learning from them is what will make me a good father. losing mom is probably the worst thing that ever happened to me, but getting you was the best.” a single tear fell down elliot’s cheek and she quickly wiped it away and buried her face in spruce’s fur. her phone buzzed again with another text from tucker. “well, mia is the best thing now, but you held the title for a long time. i love you smelliot.” she cracked a smile and sent back a quick “love u too fucker.” it took her a long time to fall asleep, although that wasn’t unusual for her, and she dreamed of memories that didn’t belong to her.

she didn’t have any expectations for her birthday, but she was pleasantly surprised. levi wished her a happy birthday, and she only vaguely remembered telling him accidentally while drunk and wasn’t sure if she’d mentioned how little she cared for the day, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it and for that she was grateful. she was surprised when rowan wished her a happy birthday - elliot didn’t feel deserving of her kindness, but it still felt good. she got her annual cake from kass, delicious as always, and she tried to not think about the fact that this time next year kass wouldn’t be there and she wouldn’t have a homemade cake to deface. she also got a cake from asher, who had made one for her last year as well when they were dating, and a cupcake from reese. it was a lot of baked goods to explain to people, but stuffing her face with cake helped elliot feel a little better. one thing about having roommates was that they tended to know things about you that you might not want them to know, but she wasn’t too worried about ella making a big deal of things. she definitely hadn’t anticipated receiving a hamburger with a lit birthday candle in it, and it both made her laugh and tasted delicious. she was laying on her bed doing homework when alex walked in, unannounced and uninvited (rude) and gave her not only a bag of hot cheetos but also a knife engraved with what according to alex was the state flower of california (the opposite of rude). she didn’t really know what to say to him other than the thing she had managed to say all day long: thank you. it wasn’t her favorite thing to say, she wasn’t known for being particularly courteous, but she meant it. she was thankful to know that the few people who knew about her birthday had bothered to tell her they cared. on most days elliot would think of course they care, i’m me, but this day made her feel small. luckily for her, she had friends who reminded her otherwise.

elliot looked at her phone. november 5th, 2020, 12:00 a.m. it was over, and she was relieved. she wasn’t quite sure if it had been a happy birthday, but it seemed like in the past few years it had become less and less of a sad one. she was lying in bed, spruce fast asleep and snoring under one arm. “i’m sorry,” she whispered to nothing and no one. perhaps she was saying it to herself. she put her phone down and curled up beside spruce. as she waited for sleep to come she thought of her mother, of the woman who had been described to her and the woman she’d imagined she was. elliot thought back to all the times her brothers had told her how excited their mother was for elliot to be born and the time her aunt told her she was sure her mother had loved her with all her heart, if only for a few minutes. she cried, silent tears that stung her eyes and stained her pillow. eventually she took a breath and got out of bed, deciding to take spruce for a midnight walk. the air was cool and still and the sky was clear. elliot sat down on the grass by the edge of the forest and looked up at the stars. she stayed there for quite some time, looking out into the darkness and trying to remember names of constellations. she saw a shooting star and smiled, wracking her brain for what to wish for.

just some good things would be nice.

when she finally crawled into bed, the tightness in her chest that always appeared on her birthday was gone, and for the first time in weeks she slept peacefully.

#i 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 people to be 𝔞𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔡 of 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 me ❛ self paras ❜

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merelymedia · 4 years

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"You are strong, you are supported, you are loved." You whisper the words in your car where no one can hear you. Your hand resting on your abdomen is the physical sign the words aren't meant for yourself, but for the new soul growing inside you.

The first time you see those double lines your mind goes blank with shock. You custom order a cake and use references from your husband's favorite show to make the picture perfect surprise announcement. You giggle and exclaim and plan to keep it a secret until you know everything is fine, only to tell half your friends the very next day. You're hesitant, you know things can go wrong and try but fail not to fall head over heels in excitement for what is to come. You're nauseous, and exhausted, and sore, and hungry every second despite not wanting to eat anything. But you relish it because every ping of nausea reminds you of how much you love what is growing, of how lucky you feel that there are no signs of anything wrong. And then two months of dreaming in you get to the appointment, disappointed that thanks to the pandemic your husband can't be there to see your child's image for the first time, or hear the heartbeat; but so ready to finally get that confirmation everything is fine.

And then there's silence. You sit alone in the hallway waiting for the doctor to confirm what you already know. You try to hold it together long enough to listen to your options, to decide if you want the physical pain of medicine, the emotional pain of waiting, or the financial pain of surgery; you know some women end up with all three. You have to wait a week, to confirm, even though there is no doubt. And in that week you go back to work, and your body hasn't realized. And now the pings of nausea that come make you want to scream, or cry, or hit something. Because how is it fair to still be so pregnant knowing there is no baby coming?

The second time you see the pink lines there is hope, there is joy, but they are overshadowed by fear. You wake your husband and briefly tell him the news before giving him a kiss goodbye as you leave for the workday. This time you tell fewer people. When things go wrong it's less shocking, less painful, and yet more destructive. The doctor and the old sayings both tell you that if you get pregnant right after a miscarriage it's more likely to be successful. Everyone says once you have one it's statistically unlikely to have another. So you had hope. But when that hope is proven wrong what do you have left?

The third time you see the lines you consider just leaving the test in the bathroom for your husband to come across. It no longer means anything except anxiety. You don't start wondering what the gender will be, instead you ask yourself "I wonder how long this one will last." You don't tell a soul. When it ends it feels like a cut on numb skin. Something you know should hurt but you can't bring yourself to feel. Why is everything so much harder than it needs to be? For the first time you start to question whether this will ever happen for you.

The first time you're angry. You lose it over small things. You about get yourself in hot water going off at work about everything and everyone.

The second time you're desperate. You use your lunch hours to break down in the car. You come this close to quitting your job. Because surely there has to be something you can change to make things work out differently. Surely it can't actually be this out of your control.

The third time you're withdrawn. Things that used to feel important no longer feel worth your energy.

But you learn things too.

The first time you learn your coworkers have your back. They'll listen to you rant because they know you need to be angry about something easier to face, so they'll let you without taking it in. You learn it's okay to have boundaries, to unfollow social media accounts of people expecting and going through the newborn years. You learn to take time doing the things that calm you.

The second time you learn to find a therapist. You learn not to put your attendance record at a job that doesn't care for you over your own wellbeing. You learn to accept the love of friends bringing/sending you care packages to keep you stocked with sweets and chocolates at all times. You learn you are surrounded by honestly wonderful people that care about you more than your anxiety let you realize.

The third time you learn that sometimes you have to let go of always planning for the future and live for now. That it's okay to spend some money when you have it on things you want, instead of always worrying about things you may need. You learn to focus on the love that fills your life now.

The past year has been a difficult one. And yet I still feel blessed. I feel blessed to be surrounded by the people that I am. I feel blessed to have jobs through uncertainty. I feel blessed that one way or another I know I will see my husband be the amazing father I know he will be, and that we will have a family of our own. I'm grateful to the people who have and continue to love us and care for us. And I'm hopeful about what the future will bring.

#pregnancy and infant loss awareness month #i am 1 in 4 #pregnancy loss

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mieteve-minijoma · 5 years

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Songfic Day 14: If

Day 14: A song you’d love played at your wedding: If - Bread

Jughead and Betty throughout their wedding day

*****

If a picture paints a thousand words,

Then why can't I paint you?

The words will never show the you I've come to know.

6:32 am - Betty

“Good Morning Besties! Time to rise and shine, we have to get the blushing bride to the chapel on time and we’re already behind schedule,” Veronica sang, pulling back the curtains of the grande suite she’d rented for her best friend Betty’s wedding.

“Christ Lodge, the sun is barely up, can you not?” Toni grumbled from one of the large king size beds that she and Cheryl had passed out the night before. Jellybean lay sprawled out on the sofa, snoring despite all the noise around her.

“No can do, Topaz. As maid of honor it is my duty to keep you bridesmaids on schedule while also making sure B has everything she needs and stays sane today. Last thing we need is Alice complaining that things are running behind,” she said, placing two lattes beside Toni.

“V, it’s entirely too early to mention my mother. I need my coffee first before we can even go there. What time is it anyway?” Betty yawned, stretching as she spoke.

7:35 am - Jughead

“Archie!” Jughead yelled across the apartment he shared with his best friend, Archie. After today, he would be moving in with his fiance -well wife- and he really couldn't wait.

He and Betty have been together for 6 years now and he couldn't be happier with his life. They were both officially done with school and had just opened their own Private Investigation Firm. That way they could work together while also allowing Jughead to have time to work on his novel.

Life had been good to them and now they finally get to be man and wife. Jughead was trying not to be sappy about it all, but this was his ultimate dream come true.

"What is it Jug? What time is it?" Archie asked, hair askew and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"It's almost 8, coffee’s in the pot. Have you seen my cufflinks? You know the ones Dad had made, the little silver crowns? I can't find them anywhere," Jughead was a bit worried when they weren’t on his dresser that morning. FP’d had them made for the wedding with an identical pendant made for Betty to wear as well. And his Dad didn't give him a lot of gifts growing up so these were very important to him.

"Yeah man, there in the box with mine and the groomsmen's in my bag ready to go to the church," Archie said in a calming voice, "Don't freak out man, as your best man it's my job to keep you calm and threaten to murder you or break your legs if you try to run."

"I think death threats and acts of violence are a bit extreme, don't you Arch?" Jughead laughed.

Archie rolled his eyes, grabbing a cup to pour them some coffee, "Tell that to Veronica."

If a face could launch a thousand ships,

Then where am I to go?

9:23 am - Betty

"V, I’m so glad you talked me into doing a massage and facial before our mani-pedis. This is literally heaven," Betty sighed, taking a sip of her mimosa while the manicurist massaged lotion onto her calves.

"Only the best for my B. I wanted to make you feel as special your wedding day as everyday of my life has felt since you came into it," Veronica smiled, eyes glistening. Betty teared up at her best friends heartfelt words.

"Oh, V. I love you so much," Betty pulled her into a crushing hug, being sure not to shift her lower half. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and whispered, "Thanks for always being there for me, no matter what. I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you."

Veronica pulled back, laughing through a sob, "Ok, enough of that. I may have gotten the best waterproof makeup money can buy, but we aren't trying to test that claim today."

"Betty?" They both froze when they heard the voice calling from the hall. Betty let out an exasperated sigh.

"In here, Mom."

9:47 am - Jughead

"Coming!" Jughead yelled, walking towards the front door. When he opened it, he was met with the smiling faces of his father and his other three best friends.

"Congratulations, boy," FP stepped in, hugging his son tight, "I can't believe you're actually getting married."

"Thanks Dad, what you you doing here so early? I didn't expect you for another hour at least," Jughead said, hugging and high-fiving his groomsmen -Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Kevin- as they entered the apartment.

"You know Alice, she was itching to leave Riverdale at 6 this morning. I held her off as long as possible but that’s like fighting a grizzly bear and well, Archie wasn’t around for back up. Is JB here?" FP asked, looking around Jug's apartment for his daughter.

"She decided to stay over at the hotel with the girls so they could all be together to get ready or whatever they plan on doing," Jughead said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Looks Sweets will be disappointed. He was hoping to see her before we all had to get ready," FP nodded his head towards Sweet Pea who'd spent the entire time with his nose shoved in his phone, dopey grin plastered on his face.

It honestly used to bother him Sweet Pea and Jellybean had started dating when she turned 18 but he got over that fairly quickly. Just seeing how good they were for each other eased Jughead's mind. Besides that, Sweets looked at Jelly the same way he looked at Betty, so he knew what they had was real.

There's no one home but you,

You're all that's left me too.

11:56 am - Betty

"Stand up straight, Elizabeth. We still have to finish getting you in this corset or we will never get your dress on properly," Alice huffed, pulling on the fabric. Veronica had gone downstairs to handle a situation with the caterers and all the girls had stepped out to get drinks and snacks for the rest of the wedding party, leaving Betty alone with her mother for the first time all morning. And frankly, she was about to her breaking point.

She loved her mother, she really did, and ever since she and FP had gotten better but as soon as the wedding planning started she had started to nitpick every little thing Betty did or choice she made.

With hips like yours, would a mermaid cut dress be appropriate? Elizabeth, just because Jughead wants a chocolate cake doesn't mean he should get it, it’s your special day. Is that really the font you chose for the invitations? You’re seriously going to have your bridesmaids and groomsmen mixed up on both sides?

It has gotten so bad that Jughead and FP had to step in to tell her that it was enough and that she needed to back off. Which she did, that is, until she arrived this morning and thought she’d try to pack months of criticism into one morning. Betty didn’t need to deal with this today, of all days, so she grabbed her phone and sent an SOS text.

SOS... Send reinforcements to slay the dragon and save the princess...

“Mom, I'm sure it will be fine,” Betty tried to stop the discussion but Alice was having none of it and cut her off.

“Elizabeth, I just don’t want those extra pounds you’ve added these last few weeks to show through because you didn’t properly shinch your corset. Now- “ Alice was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Hey Alice, Dad said he needs your help. Something about his tie or something?” Jellybean smiled sheepishly but winked at Betty once Alice turned her back. Betty smiled, mouthing her thanks to her future sister-in-law.

“I swear, I have no idea how that man survived all those years on his own without me,” Alice scoffed as she marched out of the women’s dressing area. Betty was grateful when Veronica walked back in the room, an apologetic look on her face and holding two lattes.

“I am so sorry, B. I swear I didn’t mean to leave you alone with her this morning,” Veronica apologized.

“It’s ok Ronnie. Jug took care of it,” Betty smiled, sipping her cinnamon dulce white chocolate mocha.

12:02 pm - Jughead

Betty: SOS... Send reinforcements to slay the dragon and save the princess...

“Dad, get your woman before I have Sweet Pea hogtie her and toss her in your truck,” Jughead groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in his frustration.

“Oh Lord, what’s she doing this time, boy?” FP asked. Jughead didn’t answer, just handed him his phone to show FP the text from Betty. “Alright, I’ll take care of this. JELLY!” he yelled.

“Yeah Dad?” Jellybean said, walking in from the hallway where she and Sweet Pea were talking with the rest of the wedding party.

“We have a code viper in Betty’s room, can you handle it for us please?” Jelly nodded, running out the door.

“Code viper?” Jughead smirked.

FP simply shrugged and smiled at his son. “You’ve met that woman, right?”

And when my love for life is running dry,

You come and pour yourself on me.

2:00 pm - Betty

“Betty, you look beautiful,” FP choked, grinning as he walked up to her at the front of the church. She beamed at FP, tears pricking her eyes.

“Thanks FP, you clean up well yourself,” she chuckled. She was thankful to have FP in her life as her surrogate father. After everything that happened with her father and his death, she never thought she’d have a chance to be walked down the aisle properly. But after living with FP and Jellybean her senior year, he really became the father she no longer had and she was so grateful.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

Betty shook her head and smiled, “Not even a little bit.”

The music began and FP offered her his arm, “Let’s make you a Jones.” Betty placed her tiny hand in the crook of his arm and grinned. This was the moment she’d been waiting for all her life.

2:00 pm - Jughead

The doors opened slowly and Jughead lost his ability to breathe. At the end of the aisle, standing beside his father, was the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. Betty’s dress, form-fitting until just past her hips and flaring out at the bottom, made her look like a princess in a fairytale. Her veil had tiny diamonds that sparkled like the stars in the sky, catching the light with every step she took towards him.

When their eyes locked, Jughead could feel the tears dripping from his eyes despite the goofy grin that was plastered on his face. He could see that Betty was as much in the same boat as he was, her smile rivaling the sunshine and her hands gripping tighter to the bouquet of wildflowers in her hands.

As his future stepped up to stand beside him, he knew that his life was finally complete. He had loved her for so many years that he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t. His whole life had been leading to this moment and he was speechless. Betty placed her hand in his and squeezed, grinning at him.

“Hi Juggie.”

If a man could be two places at one time,

I'd be with you.

Tomorrow and today, beside you all the way.

3:33 pm - Betty

“I met Betty in my sophomore year of highschool when my family moved to Riverdale from the city. She was my tour guide at Riverdale High and the moment we met, I knew she would be my best friend. And even though we have had our ups and downs in the past, I have never regretted a moment that I have spent with her. My life would be incomplete without her,” Veronica paused to wipe a tear from her eyes, “Oh, and Jughead is ok too, I guess.” Everyone burst into a fit of laughter.

“In all seriousness, I have been around Jughead and Betty throughout their entire relationship and I can safely say I have never seen two people more in love. Well except for my Archikins and I,” everyone chuckled again at the nickname, “Jughead, Betty, I wish you all the happiness in the world and I know that, without a doubt, there is not two people more suited for each other then you two. I love you guys, salud!” Veronica held up her glass as everyone chapped and sipped their champagne.

3:35 pm - Jughead

“Thanks everyone, um, I have known Betty and Jughead for my entire. We have all been friends since we were still in diapers and our parents would bathe us together,” Betty and Jughead blushed as people giggled, “Um, yeah but we have been through a lot together. I was actually really shocked when I first found out that they were dating, just simply for the fact that I never saw it coming. No one did really. But I remember seeing them one day outside Southside High and, with the help of Ronnie, I realized that they were soulmates. And I also realized that I wanted what they have with each other. I got lucky and found my soulmate too,” he paused to smile at Veronica, “Jughead, you have always been more like my brother than anything and I am so happy for you. You deserve to be with someone who will treat you like you are their whole world, and you’ve got that person beside you. Betty, you have been my rock since we were two years old. You helped me pass the second grade, you saved my life more than once when we were younger and I will always be thankful to have you in my life. You will always be my best friend and I am so happy that you and Jughead have found the happiness you both deserve together. I love you guys, cheers!”

If the world should stop revolving spinning slowly down to die,

I'd spend the end with you.

And when the world was through,

6:26 pm - Betty

Betty was thankful she had decided to change into a more comfortable dress as she moved with Veronica on the dance floor, dancing to cringy Britney Spears songs just like they’d done so many times before. Betty bit her lip as she looked over her shoulder to see her husband standing off to the side, laughing and having a cigarette with Fangs and Toni, tie long gone along with his coat.

He had rolled up his sleeves earlier in the evening, showing off all the ink that he’d accumulated over the years that Betty loved to look at. His suspenders were hanging down around his hips in their usual place, his hair falling into his eyes and Betty couldn’t help but think of how sexy he was. And better still, how he was all hers.

She told Veronica she was taking a break and walked over to the bar for some bottled water. As she sipped her drink, she glanced back over to where Jughead was and caught him staring at her while taking a drag from his smoke. She winked at him, biting her lip and slowly walking towards one of the coat closets near the front of the reception hall. Just before opening the door to step inside she ran the tip of her tongue around the rim of the water bottle and grinned, knowing he wouldn’t be far behind.

7:44 pm - Jughead

“Mmm, Betty?” Jughead pulled away panting, lips bee stung from ravaging his wife in the tiny coat closet. Her breasts heaved as she tried to find her voice, “Yeah?” she said, latching her lips to his neck, sucking a dark bruise for everyone to see.

“Do- um, do you think they’ve noticed we are missing yet?” Jughead asked, moaning loudly at the feeling of his wife's tongue on his bare skin. A loud banging at the door startled them both causing them to jump apart like two teenagers.

“Yes, we know you’re missing and yes, the entire banquet does know what you are doing in here,” Veronica shouted through the door. Jughead’s face turned bright red as Betty burst into laughter and threw her arms around his neck.

“Take me to our room, husband. I have plans for you,” Betty grinned.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, wife,” She squealed with laughter as Jughead threw her over his shoulder and pushed the door open to make a mad dash for the elevators.

Then one by one the stars would all go out,

Then you and I would simply fly away

#songfic writing challenge 2019 #song you want played at your wedding #I actually played this at my wedding #Bughead #bughead fanfiction #riverdale #cw riverdale #riverdale jughead #riverdale betty #betty and jughead #betty x jughead #wedding bells

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boreum-dal · 4 years

Text

la confiture, pt. iii

fandom: miraculous ladybug (adrinette, nino/alya)

summary: marinette dupain-cheng is one step closer to her dream of becoming a top chef when she's hired to cook at the famed restaurant, la confiture. but to get to the top, she's got to surpass adrien agreste, her rival and the son of la confiture's owner.

too bad he's so sweet that he's nearly impossible to dislike.

and too bad she loves when he invites her over after work to test out new dishes at his apartment.

and too bad his relationship with his father makes her want to hold him and never let him go.

and--just like that, her dreams don't seem so simple anymore.

“Marinette…”

Marinette turned around, too surprised to do anything besides look at Adrien’s hand, just barely touching her arm, and then up at his eyes, dazed and full of… What was that? Confusion? Appreciation? Something she didn’t know how to name. She wondered vaguely to herself how they could look so green and vibrant in the dim lamplight of his foyer. It wasn’t fair.

“Why... Why are you doing this for me?” Adrien asked, his voice quiet.

Marinette felt her heart drop, a soft breath escaping her. Oh, Adrien. “Because you’re my friend, of course. And I didn’t want you to be sick and alone with no one to help you.”

cross-posted: ao3

prev: i | ii

la confiture

part iii.

Comment from Chat Noir on “Chocolate-Glazed Marble Cake”

1:31 AM

22/1

Hi, Ladybug! I hope you take comfort in the fact that the cake looked delicious, even if not the most aesthetically pleasing. It’s unfortunate that one of your cakes broke, but the other looked beautiful when it came out of the oven! I also totally sympathize with your frustration with tempering the chocolate for the glaze. Truth be told, for things like glaze, I find it’s much easier to do away with couverture and just go with a big slab of chocolate compound. You won’t have to deal with the mattifying effect you described, and the glaze will look professional grade. Thanks as always for your wonderful posts. They really do make my week!

Reply Comment from Ladybug to Chat Noir on “Chocolate-Glazed Marble Cake”

2:40 AM

22/1

Chat Noir, thank you for the solid advice. I did a little reading on compounds after your post and am sad that I put myself through the pains of tempering couverture chocolate now, ha. Thanks also for your kind words. I always love getting to know my followers, but I’d like to say I’m so happy you’ve become a regular commenter these last few weeks. These days, I find myself wondering what you will have to say in particular about my dishes with each post! Please take care.

---

“How is it that you stop by the restaurant and talk to Nino one time and land a date within five minutes of meeting him?”

Alya laughed. “I’m a charmer, what can I say?”

Marinette shook her head as she whisked a bit of cream into the sauce she was simmering. “You really are. Well, he’s a wonderful guy, and I actually think you would get along really well. I’m not sure why I didn’t think to introduce you two before. Here, come try this.”

Alya hopped off of her seat on one of the barstools by Marinette’s kitchen counter, wine glass in hand, and let Marinette tip a spoonful of sauce into her mouth. “Oh, that is so good.”

“Yeah?” Marinette grinned. “That’s great—I’ve been trying for days now to lessen the amount of cream I use in this sauce to make it less heavy, but it’s been really hard to replicate the taste.”

“Guess you found a winner! I can’t wait to eat. So tell me more about Nino.” Alya leaned back against the counter beside Marinette and took a sip of her wine.

Marinette glanced up as she continued to stir, thinking. “Mm... Well, he’s very easygoing, a good conversationalist, and a good listener. He doesn’t get riled up easily, but he’ll also stand his ground. It kind of makes him the perfect bartender, because he can talk with anyone and nothing will ruffle his feathers, not even the worst customer or Gabriel Agreste on his worst day. Plus, he’s so nice.”

“And cute,” Alya added.

Marinette giggled. “And cute. I think he’s also interested in music? He mentioned DJing at a few places before he started working as our bartender.”

“So that’s how he got tickets to that show!”

“What show?”

“The one he’s taking me to for our date. It’s a really popular DJ on his European tour. Those tickets were sold out weeks ago.”

“Somehow, it doesn’t shock me that you’re going to a club for your first date,” Marinette said, laughing.

“Hey, now. I’m not a cheap date. He’s taking me to dinner first!” Alya grinned. “Also, he mentioned to me he’s close with your little chef prince.”

Marinette frowned as she turned the stove down and removed her pan from the heat. “My who?”

“Adrien Agreste. So if you’re so close with Nino, why can’t you use him to get closer to Adrien?” Alya reached up into Marinette’s cupboards and began to pull down plates.

Marinette snorted. “How would I even do that?”

“I don’t know, like figure out if they ever hang out outside of work and then tag along with Nino!”

“Okay, now that would be shameless,” Marinette said, giggling. She carefully began plating the steak and mushroom marsala. “Just too weird. Nino and I aren’t nearly close enough for that. Plus, I don’t need to get any closer to Adrien.”

Alya frowned. “Why not?”

“It makes me… I don’t know, confused?” Marinette said, keeping her eyes on the plates. “It’s simpler not to know him well. Like you said, it’s much harder to compete with someone I like.”

“There is such a thing as friendly rivalry, you know.”

“I know.” Marinette sighed. “I just preferred when I had tunnel vision and this singular goal with no distractions.”

Alya patted her friend on the back. “Look, Marinette. You’re a fantastic chef. You’re also a fantastic human being. It’s natural that people around you will want to get to know you. I think you can afford to make a few friends while you work your way up the ladder, don’t you think?”

Marinette chewed her lower lip before smiling. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Alya grinned. “And a little romance wouldn’t hurt, either!”

Marinette laughed and whacked Alya playfully with the dish towel she’d been holding. “As if. Let’s eat!”

---

Marinette stared at the metal numbers glued to Adrien’s front door and wondered to herself how she’d ended up here for the second time in a month. She bounced a bit on her toes, wondering why she was nervous to knock.

Despite what she’d told Alya at dinner a few days ago, she’d caught herself wondering—only when her guard was down—whether Adrien would actually invite her over again. They’d brushed elbows and exchanged glances and jokes at work a few times, and they’d left and locked up together even more, but beyond that, he hadn’t expressed any interest in seeing her outside of the restaurant again. Much to Marinette’s own surprise, she’d found herself disappointed instead of pleased—until he’d asked her out of the blue a few days ago if he’d like to come by on Monday to learn how to make that coffee cake.

Alya’s triumphant cackle when Marinette had told her echoed in her ears.

Whatever, she thought to herself. This is normal. Perfectly fine! I’m excited for no other reason than the fact that we’re friendly coworkers, and he offered to show me some new tricks. Like baking a coffee cake.

She sighed before knocking on the door.

“It’s open!”

The door creaked loudly as Marinette opened it and stepped inside, taking a moment to shiver in pleasure at the burst of warm air. It was frigid outside, and the drafty interior hallways of Adrien’s apartment building were not much better. She glanced around at the kitchen and living area as she shrugged off her coat, but Adrien was nowhere to be seen.

Plagg appeared beside her, butting his head against her ankles. Marinette smiled and reached down to pet him. “Hello, chaton. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Marinette?”

Marinette looked up, and there was Adrien, dressed in a grey long-sleeved knit and black fitted joggers. She’d never seen him so dressed down before—even when he’d had her over previously, he’d been in jeans and a button-down. It made her feel like he was a little more human, even if a voice in the back of her head reminded her unhelpfully that he still looked quite handsome.

“Hi,” she said, standing up as he came over to take her coat from her. “Thank you for having me over.”

“Anytime.” Adrien smiled, and this close up, Marinette realized he had a dimple in his left cheek. She promptly urged herself to ignore this.

“Sorry I didn’t come to the door—I was digging around in the pantry for the hazelnuts. I thought for a second I was out and nearly panicked. Ready to learn the ways of the Agreste family coffee cake?”

Marinette caught an apron he tossed to her as she followed him into the kitchen area, where Adrien had already set up two stations with all the ingredients they’d need.

She tried to quell her nerves; Adrien had proven himself time and again to be kind and astonishingly nonjudgmental. He wouldn’t make her feel bad once he saw how badly she would botch this cake. Or tell his father and then have a good laugh about it. Right?

“I was born ready.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Adrien cheered. Plagg looked up at Adrien disdainfully. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

---

“Look at that,” Adrien said softly, peering into the oven window beside Marinette. “You’re a natural.”

Marinette smiled, feeling herself flush. She glanced back into the window of the oven, where her surprisingly not-malformed coffee cake was baking. “We can’t say that just yet, can we? We’ll jinx it. Plus, look at my work station. And myself,” she said, standing up and laughing as she held out her forearms, which were covered entirely in flour.

Adrien chuckled, wiping up a little bit of flour from Marinette’s work station with his finger. “There were... a few mishaps, sure. But what’s important is you soldiered on and didn’t let the mistakes affect your final product!”

“You’re very kind, Adrien.” Marinette grabbed a paper towel and wet it under the sink, intending to wipe the remnants of flour and batter from the counter while they waited for the cake to bake. She paused when she felt a hand on her arm and turned to Adrien, eyes wide.

“We’ll leave that for later,” Adrien said, a grin on his face. “For now, how about a latte? Can’t have coffee cake without coffee.”

Marinette felt her stomach do that same uncomfortable flip it had done when she’d first walked up to his door that afternoon. She swallowed and nodded, trying to ignore it. “U-uh—sure.” She smiled. “A latte sounds nice.”

The two ended up on Adrien’s sofa, artfully poured lattes in hand. Marinette had removed her shoes and her knees were drawn up to her chest, chin resting on them as she relayed to Adrien her experiences growing up in the public school system.

“So you’re still friends with Alya to this day?” Adrien asked, eyes wide. “How old are you?”

“Yes, she’s still my best friend,” Marinette said proudly. “I’m twenty-eight.”

Adrien whistled. “That’s incredible. Twenty years of friendship. I don’t think I’ve known anyone for twenty years except my father.”

He sounded wistful, and Marinette took a moment to observe him more carefully. Adrien sat with his elbows leaning on his knees, hands folded around his cup, bright green eyes staring out at the cityscape beyond his window. His mouth was set in what looked, at first glance, like a neutral line, but when Marinette looked a little closer, she realized that one corner was tilted up—but then, she thought, why did he look sad?

Marinette knew how demanding the life of a chef was. The days they worked were long and tiring, beginning before lunch and often ending in the late hours of the night when the city was already shutting down. The few days they had off consisted of catching up on sleep where they could and then still spending time training to perfect their craft. So in a sense, every chef was probably a little bit deprived of personal relationships compared to the average person.

But Adrien had revealed to Marinette as they’d taken their first few sips of coffee that he had been home-schooled his whole life until he’d attended culinary school. He had been given no chance by his father to even consider working anywhere besides La Confiture upon graduation. And upon learning these things, she’d come to a realization that produced the strangest ache in her chest: Adrien must have been profoundly lonely throughout his childhood. Even in adulthood, it was evident in the way he so readily opened his arms and his home to his colleagues.

“Marinette?”

Marinette startled, nearly spilling her coffee. “Hm?”

Adrien’s lips curled up into a soft smile, and now Marinette’s stomach was doing those stupid flips and that ache in her chest was getting stronger. When he spoke, he sounded amused. “You seemed like you were checked out there for a little bit. Or maybe there’s flour on my face?”

“Oh!” Marinette could feel her face getting hotter by the moment, and she scrambled for something to say. “I—um—I was just thinking—speaking of Alya, did you know that she and Nino are going on a date this weekend?”

Adrien, much to Marinette’s relief, seemed totally distracted by this information. “Is she really? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah! So—maybe one day, if it works out between them, I mean—we can all grab lunch—I mean—that is, I’d love for you to meet her…” Marinette trailed off and tried not to imagine how red her face was by now. Why couldn’t she stop rambling?

Adrien didn’t seem to notice, and instead gave her that same slow smile, electric green eyes trained on hers. “I’d really like that. Thanks, Marinette.”

In lieu of responding—or throwing herself out of his window, which was her preferred reaction—Marinette opted to gulp down the remainder of her latte.

---

“So, how was your date?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a date, Alya.”

“You went to his house and baked and had coffee and then he made you dinner! Sounds like a date to me.”

“The dinner was impromptu,” Marinette mumbled into the phone as she settled into bed.

“Dates can be impromptu.”

“Alya,” Marinette groaned. “Can we not? I’m confused enough as it is.”

”Okay, okay. Can you at least tell me how it went?”

“It went fine, of course,” Marinette sighed. “I mean, he was perfectly sweet, he’s a great teacher, and when we talked…”

“When you talked?”

“It was… I just learned so much about him that made me feel… I don’t know, like he needed a friend. Like I should be his friend.”

“Hmm. That’s not the tune you were singing a few days ago.”

“I know,” Marinette said, and then, only because this was Alya she was talking to and no one else, she let herself admit, “But maybe now I’m in too deep.”

Alya was quiet for a moment, and Marinette knew that her friend was thinking of how to respond. Thankfully, she didn’t press the issue.

“So did the cake turn out okay?” Alya asked, pivoting to another subject. “You can use the recipe for your blog!”

”No way. On the off chance he reads my blog, he’d figure out who I was in an instant if I did that.”

“So?”

“So then he’d know that I’m a sham of a chef!”

“Marinette,” Alya said, exasperated. “You are not a sham. You’re working at one of the top restaurants in Paris. The Gabriel Agreste personally called you in to tell you you’re doing a good job. Just because you never attended cooking school or got formal training doesn’t mean you’re not a real chef. If anything, it makes you even more amazing for having gotten where you are today.”

Marinette smiled softly. “Thanks, Alya.”

“You know it. Any time you feel that impostor syndrome coming on and need someone to kick its ass, I’m your girl.”

---

Marinette glanced at her watch as she made her way out of the kitchen. She frowned. It was already past three, and Adrien was nowhere to be seen. By now, he’d normally have already finished whatever prep work he had to do and would have moved on to help the others, cracking terrible jokes that everyone secretly loved. It felt awfully quiet without him around.

Nino called Marinette over from the bar, startling her out of her thoughts.

“What’s up?” Marinette said, taking a seat at one of the stools.

“Looking for Adrien?”

Marinette’s brows shot up to her forehead. “Wh-no, I—”

“It’s okay,” Nino said, laughing. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’ve just seen you looking around all afternoon, but I get it because I’ve been worried, too.”

Marinette pursed her lips. “Well, do you know where he is?”

Nino nodded. “He finally texted me back about ten minutes ago. Said he’s at home sick.”

“Sick?” Marinette repeated. Her frown became even more pronounced. “He must be feeling horrible if he couldn’t even come in."

“Yeah, I think so, too. He’s such a workaholic.”

Marinette glanced around to make sure they were relatively alone, and then she leaned in. “How does Chef Agreste feel about it?” she whispered.

Nino shook his head. “He’s in a bad mood. No telling if that’s why, but he’s probably not very happy that Adrien couldn’t make it to work.”

“Of course,” Marinette sighed. Chef Agreste did not strike her as the type of person who easily overlooked even his own son calling in sick on a shift. “Do you know if anyone’s been by to see him?”

“I don’t think so,” Nino said. “I offered to take him some leftovers from the restaurant after we closed up, but he said he’d be okay. I worry about him, though, living by himself and being that ill.”

Marinette turned this information over in her head. Adrien was a grown man, and he could obviously take care of himself—but the picture she had painted of him over the time she’d gotten to know him made her think he was probably lonely and wracked with guilt, on top of being sick.

Marinette smiled at Nino. “You know, I make a pretty mean chicken soup... I’ll bring it by to him after work. I’ll send him your regards.”

---

Adrien opened his eyes to darkness, completely disoriented and not quite able to understand what had woken him in the first place. His head was pounding.

His phone buzzed twice more on his nightstand before going silent, and he realized someone had been trying to call him. Blindly, he reached over to grab his phone and looked at the screen.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Missed Call

It registered somewhere in the back of his fever-addled brain that since they had exchanged numbers, Marinette had only texted and never called him before. Before he knew what he was doing, the phone was at his ear, and he heard two rings before Marinette’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hello? Adrien?”

“Hey, Marinette,” he rasped. He cleared his throat—he didn’t realize until just then that he’d gone the entire day without speaking. “What’s up? I missed your call.”

“How’re you feeling?”

Adrien sat up, leaning back on one hand. Plagg stirred in his spot on top of the duvet between Adrien’s calves. His covers fell off of his torso, and he immediately regretted the action. Sweat had soaked through his t-shirt as he’d slept, and the air outside of his blankets felt frigid against his dampened skin.

“Oh, you know. Just…”

“Terrible, I’m guessing, if you called in sick,” Marinette said, her voice sympathetic. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he lied. He leaned back against his pillow. The inside of his head was so hot, but his body was so cold. He had no idea how to fix this. “What’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Of course! Actually, the reason I’m calling is—well, I know you’re not well, but I was wondering if I could stop by? I made you soup.”

The surprise cleared Adrien’s head better than any medication had all day. “Soup?”

“Yeah, but I also completely understand if you don’t want visitors,” Marinette responded quickly. “Plus, it’s late—I’m sorry, this was stupid of me, and—”

“No, no,” Adrien said, sitting up again. “Please—please come by. If it’s not too much trouble.”

There was a pause. “You sure?”

“Yes. Soup sounds wonderful. Are you coming from the restaurant? I’ll see you in fifteen minutes?"

“Um... Not to be creepy, but I’m already here. I was just going to drop it off, so—”

“Oh,” Adrien said, too dumbfounded to respond in a more intelligent way. He shook his head. He felt a rush of appreciation for Marinette’s thoughtfulness. After he’d reluctantly called in sick, his own father hadn’t called once to check on him—not that he’d expected him to. “I mean—no, it’s not creepy at all. Hang on, I’ll buzz you in.”

---

Marinette could have kicked herself. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking, coming over uninvited. And of course Adrien would be way too nice to turn her down, as intrusive as she was being. The door opened before she had time to convince herself to turn around.

“Hey,” Adrien croaked, and then he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry. I probably sound horrible.”

All of Marinette’s embarrassment drained away into concern. Adrien leaned against the doorway, pale and gaunt in wrinkled, baggy pajama pants and a t-shirt, blond hair mussed and matted against his head this way and that. He looked like he might fall over any moment.

“Adrien! Just how sick are you?” Marinette said, rushing inside. She set the large container of soup down on the nearest surface and reached up to feel his forehead, and then felt blood rush to her cheeks when she recognized how intimate the action felt.

Adrien, for his part, didn’t seem to mind; he closed his eyes, and Marinette felt the slightest pressure as he leaned his forehead into her hand. Something warm surged inside of her at the trusting nature of the action.

“You’re burning up,” she said, feeling her brows knit together. “Have you eaten anything today? Taken any medication?”

“I’m fine,” Adrien mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a no. Well, lucky for you, I brought chicken soup! And there should be enough for you to last you through tomorrow, too.” She picked the carton back up and held it up to him proudly. “Mind if I use your kitchen to heat this up?”

“Oh—of course not,” Adrien said, slightly dumbfounded. “Um... Do you need help?”

Marinette laughed. “You are impossible. No, I don’t need help! I just wanted to pour it into a pot and heat it over your stove for a bit. You should go lie down.” She turned to head toward the kitchen, pausing only when she felt warm fingers brushing against her elbow.

“Marinette…”

“Why... Why are you doing this for me?” Adrien asked, his voice quiet.

Marinette felt her heart drop, a soft breath escaping her. Oh, Adrien. “Because you’re my friend, of course. And I didn’t want you to be sick and alone with no one to help you.”

Adrien’s eyes widened ever so slightly—or maybe that was just Marinette’s imagination. His lips parted, like he might say something, but instead, he let out a quiet exhale. Marinette was aware, perhaps too acutely, of the warmth of his fingertips, still on her elbow. Later, she would guess that they stood like that, staring at each other in complete silence, for maybe three seconds after she’d answered his question. But in the time it happened, it felt like forever.

“I’m—I’m gonna go heat this up, okay?” she finally said. “I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”

“Ah, right. Okay.” Adrien paused. “You’re eating, too, right? You must be starving after work, after all.”

Marinette glanced at the clock, surprised. She hadn’t even realized how late it was. She looked back at Adrien, who was watching her again, this time with clear anticipation, evident just at the end of the curve of his lips, in the slope of his raised eyebrows. She was reminded, again, of how much he seemed to crave human company, and how much he must have been deprived of it in his lifetime.

“Sure,” she said, nodding. “I’ll make myself some, too. Find something good on TV, won’t you?”

---

Adrien was a no-show the next day, as was expected. Marinette was mostly relieved—she wouldn’t have been shocked if he’d tried to drag himself out of bed, even in his condition, if his father gave him hard enough of a time—but she also found herself enjoying work a little bit less. As Rose had noted the day before, Adrien’s absence was oddly loud.

Thankfully, La Confiture was so busy that night that Marinette didn’t have too much time to think about it. With Adrien gone, everyone’s workload had increased somewhat, and as one of the more junior chefs in the kitchen, Marinette was saddled with quite a bit of extra work. But in the few spare moments she did have, she thought more than once about pulling out her phone and sending him a message.

Just checking on you. Hope you’re ok. Eat all of your soup!

Marinette stared at the screen of her phone, which glared back at her in the darkness of the locker room, where she’d come for a brief reprieve from all the action. She chewed on her lower lip as her thumb hovered over the “send” key. Why was she hesitating? Her stomach felt funny—maybe she’d caught the bug from Adrien. It was a perfectly normal message to send. But she felt like she’d imposed so much the night before by just assuming she could come by, and—

“Marinette!” Juleka’s voice rang. “We’ve got a situation in the kitchen!”

Marinette sighed as she pressed her thumb against the backspace key and shoved the phone back in the pocket of her coat.

---

At 1:05 AM, when the kitchen was finally clean and the restaurant was totally silent, Marinette let herself into the locker room and began to pull on her coat. She picked her phone out of the pocket and hit the home key absentmindedly before nearly dropping it in surprise. Below a missed call from her mom and half a dozen texts from Alya, there was a particular name she hadn’t expected to show up in her notifications.

Adrien Agreste

3 New Messages

12:47 AM

Marinette slid her thumb across the screen, not sure what to expect, and opened the messages.

Hey, thank you again for the soup! It was just as good on day two. I feel better already. Hope things weren’t too insane at the restaurant tonight.

And then, beneath a picture of Plagg, standing on the coffee table and sticking his nose into a near-empty bowl:

Plagg likes the soup, too, btw.

Marinette felt her lips curve up into a smile. Without too much thought, nerves forgotten, her thumbs automatically typed out a response.

Tell him I’ll bring some more by tomorrow, if he’d like.

An answer came back immediately, and as she read it, Marinette registered with some shock what that odd, dully painful bubbling at the pit of her stomach was.

He would love that.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfic #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic #adrinette #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #la confiture

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stainandscribble · 4 years

Text

REVENANT (Part 2)

Pairing: Baekhyun X OC (Original Female Character)

Genre: Baekhyun Witch AU; fluff; fantasy; angst

Summary: To witches, names hold power, and Eleonora happens to have a very dangerous gift, one that can be deadly when misused- she has the ability to read names, true names that the witches and warlocks share only with people of utmost trust. It is a secret she hopes to take to her grave. Baekhyun had left his coven, and joined one with Suho’s. They too, possess unspeakable gifts. When Junmyeon warns him of his marriage, Baekhyun begins preparing, but so does Eleonora. With the veil thinning, and the darker half approaching, will their secrets stay safe? Or will the world burn?

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7

Word Count: 2121

A/N: This one is a little short, but part 3 will be coming up sometime at the end of the upcoming week, maybe next Wednesday/Thursday.

Once their meeting had ended, and the two covens parted ways, Baekhyun didn’t know what to do with himself. He tried sitting at home to finish the matching hat and scarf he was making, but he found himself unable to follow the pattern. He tied baking himself something for dessert, but after he burnt the vanilla cupcakes into charcoal he gave up. Instead, he found himself occupied with bouncing the light off of stained-glass windows in his attic, flicking his lights on and off and basking in the sun streaming from his windows.

After a day of this, he decided to sulk around in Suho’s home.

He sat at the table with Junmyeon and Winnie, slumped over the dinner they had graciously provided for him, a bowl of rice and warm stew.

“Was it like this for you?” He finally asked, playing with the broth, the light bouncing off his empty glass in all directions.

“After we left I made the water in my bath float.” Junmyeon confessed, taking hold of Winnie's hand and intertwining their fingers. Winnie smiled at him, before her eyes fell on Baekhyun, an inquisitive look on her face. She supposed it would be interesting to watch her two friends fall in love, especially knowing how stubborn they both could be.

“That is a good thing Baekhyun.” His leader told him, sincerity lacing the warm tones of his voice as he looked at the struggling man, behaving like a lovesick puppy as he moped around at his table.

“That is why we give and receive warnings.” He told him, and Baekhyun looked up from his food to look him directly in the eyes.

“How is this a good thing?”

“Because you are becoming infatuated. And you will later love her.” Junmyeon answered, playing with the spoon in his hands.

“Does she feel like that too?” The curiosity and hopeful tones that broke through Baekhyun’s dejection made Junmyeon laugh. The sound broke through the still air and flew over Baek like a warm shower, making him feel reassured.

“Do you know how many jars exploded when he left?” Winnie asked, giving Junmyeon a sly glance as her lips turned into a smirk. It was a rhetorical question, but Baekhyun wanted to embarrass her anyway. Before he could even open his mouth, Winnie’s steel tone cut him off.

“Don’t ask!”

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

“What is happening to me?” Eleanora asked her mother when she missed another eye in the knitting pattern. By now the jumper looked more like holey cheese than something wearable, and Eleonora was at her wit's end, ready to just start over rather than keep the mess she had so far. The sweet taste of rocky road mixed in with the tang of cherries blossomed on her tongue, and she cursed the fact she could taste her own feelings, along with everyone else’s.

“Are you thinking of Beak?” Her mother asked, smiling knowingly as she put another batch of cookies in the oven. She could taste her mother’s amusement, like lemonade on her tongue, mixed with the minty freshness of relief at the idea that she did think of him.

“No...” Eleonora’s voice faded slowly into nothing, her eyes not meeting her mothers. Despite that, she knew her daughter was frustrated. She knew she was planning on leaving, running somewhere far she had never been to. Eleonora wanted to run, belong to no place, hear no names blaring like bells in her head. She had dreamed of tasting foods and feelings she was unfamiliar with. Now, after the Crone had come to her with a Warning, her plans fell through, and she had to pick up a knitting needle rather than a plane ticket. She was angry, and her mother had no doubt she was bitter too. Bitter, angry, defiant. She knew she could run, fate could not force her to do its bidding, but fate had its ways. Fate had its ways, and it had done what it wanted to her daughter, or so it seemed.

Eleonora watched her mother, bitterness light on her tongue, as she watched her mother think, knowing that there was disappointment in her heart, and defiance too, fainter than her own, but still fragrant.

“That is why they give you Warnings.” Her mother told her, laying her warm hands on Eleonora’s shoulder, squeezing it gently as she threw away her needles.

“To make sure you don’t burn your house down?” She huffed, making her mother laugh.

“More or less.” She nodded, looking behind her shoulder at her husband.

Eleonora’s father rummaged through the fridge, finally pulling the glass sugar bowl out of the fridge, raising it in a toast towards his daughter.

“You have a real talent sweetheart!” He called out, smiling brightly, watching with gleeful eyes as Eleonora sank into the couch with a huff.

“Maybe you should meet up?” Her father suggested, and your mother nodded in agreement, eyes shining.

“I met up with your dad after we met.” She confirmed, looking between her mother and father, and tasting nothing.

“Meet up and go where?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That nice café down the block? It has Halloween themed desserts right now.” Her mother pointed out, swatting her father’s hands away from the pie

“I eat that every day.” Eleonora complained, and her parent’s amusement flooded her tongue.

“No, you don’t. Don’t be dramatic.” Her mother smiled.

“Off you go. Call him!” Her father ushered her off the couch, walking her towards the door as he handed her mismatched hats and scarves lying about on top of the shoe rack.

“Did they leave their phone numbers?” Eleonora asked, putting her shoes on.

“Yes. Go to the Coven House, The Crone should give it to you.” Her father told her, waving goodbye as she disappeared outside, her figure swallowed by the golden rays of the cool autumn sun.

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

It was only an hour after she left her house, that she found herself sitting in the café right outside of the town square. The pavements outside were littered with golden leaves, the trees that were green and lush only a few months ago were standing nearly bare, ready for their winter sleep. The sun shone but had almost no warmth to it.

“Hello.” Baekhyun said, his voice ringing through the quiet café as he reached her table.

“How are you?” She asked, smiling at him as he sat down across her. His hair was tasselled by the wind, his jumped was fluffy, and the blue denim jacket he wore hung loosely on his shoulders. Despite his slightly dishevelled appearance, his smile was bright, disarmingly so. He seemed to be shining when he grinned.

The two got up to order coffee after he settled down. He paid for Eleonora’s coffee, ordered her cake and toom their tray to their table. All the while, Baekhyun carried the conversation, joking with Eleonora about Halloween, laughing at the infinite number of pumpkin-spiced treats, pointing out the witch cut-outs decorating the café.

“Do we really look like that?” He smiled when they finally sat down, eyes glued to the window decal right beside him. Eleonora laughed, shaking her head, the sweet taste of chocolate and cherry that made up rocky road thick in her tongue now that Baekhyun sat in front of her.

“I burned the cupcakes.” Baekhyun confessed to her, his fingers fidgeted with the small silver dessert fork. His eyes no longer met hers as a shy blush dusted his cheeks.

“I burned the apple pie and put the sugar into the fridge.” Eleonora confessed, remembering her father pulling it out along with the milk.

“I always wondered why they call it a warning.” Baekhyun mused, eyes falling on Eleonora, where they stayed. Their intensity burning into her.

“This is nice.” Eleonora whispered, taking another bite of cake.

“It is.” Baekhyun nodded, looking at her over his coffee.

They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the sweet cake and warm coffee, watching life happen outside, unaware that a great and old magic was taking place around them. The smell of burning hung in the air, and both Baekhyun and Eleonora smelled it. They felt the chill of the autumn air and the draft coming through the Thinning Veil that came with it. Their eyes rested on the charms each one wore as protection. The pretty copper bracelets, and the charms that hung on chains around their necks, all meant to ward off evil spirits as the darker half approached.

“What does your coven think of me?” She broke the silence, and Baekhyun’s gaze was piercing, looking through her as if he was looking for something. For a moment he didn’t speak, and she could taste an inner battle on her tongue.

“They find your empathy quite interesting. They started wondering what feelings taste like.” He spoke, his voice even and serious, the playful tone was gone.

“Do you know what romantic love tastes like?” He asked as the world seemed to shine a little brighter as excitement and curiosity returned to his voice. Eleonora shook her head, and for a moment, she could see Baekhyun’s grin falter, and the light in his eyes dim a little. She scrambled for a better answer, something to explain why that was.

“I know what infatuation tastes like though.” She quipped, sheepishly turning her head away from his. She hoped he would not see the blush rising on her cheeks, but the light giggle had told her he already had.

“What is it?” He asked, leaning closer, the playful glimmer in his brown eyes seemed golden, and Eleonora relented, turning back and looking at him with a serious expression, the blush now gone from her cheeks.

“Rocky Road ice cream.” She stated. Her straight face did not match the response she gave him, and Baekhyun could not help but laugh, the sound light and contagious, coaxing Eleonora’s laugh.

“Why?” He asked through deep breaths, eyes confidently looking her over.

“It’s exciting, I guess.” She sipped on her drink, her gaze matching Baekhyun’s.

“Do you want to get some ice cream?” He asked, getting up from his seat and extending his hand so she could grab it.

“Now?” Eleonora asked, watching him nod eagerly.

“Now.”

“Come on.” He said, grabbing her hand and walking out of the coffee shop, their hands clasped together loosely.

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

The ice cream parlour wasn’t far away, since most cafes were situated in the town square. The walls outside were painted a bubble gum pink, and inside they were painted a pastel yellow, with flowers and pot plants decorating the interior. An older witch from her coven ran the place, and Eleonora had greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, as the elder gave her a sly wink, looking from her to her hand, still in Baekhyun’s own.

They had ordered their ice cream, and walked off into the town, passing through alleys, dried leaves crumbling under their shoes and the autumn sun painting everything golden.

“Is this what being with me tastes like?” Baekhyun asked, licking his ice cream. he had insisted on getting rocky road, while Eleonora went for one of the more unusual flavours they were serving- a rose sorbet. Truthfully, she had been tasting the decadent flavour so much she wanted something different for a change, something to cleanse her palette.

“Sure.” She nodded, stirring Baekhyun into a shortcut that would take them to the park.

“You said you can taste feelings. Surely you have been around people in love before.” He mentioned. taking her hand in a firmer hold.

“There are limitations to every gift.” She mused, eyes looking up into the sky, the sunset turning the sky various hues of pink and orange.

“I can only taste the feelings I have felt myself.” She told him, licking her ice cream as they walked. Baekhyun pondered over her words and she began explaining.

“If I have never felt something, I cannot taste it.” Eleanora kicked up some of the golden leaves lying on the pavement.

Baekhyun smiled, the prospect of being the one to make her finally taste romantic love was exciting. So exciting in fact, that the sunset lasts longer than usual that day, and when he had come home, he watched as all the lightbulbs in his home exploded, one by one as he turned the lights off. For the rest of the night, he had played with the silk moonlight streaming through his windows, the candles burning yellow flames around him.

He thought about what Eleonora said, about being with him tasting like something exciting and decadent, and he began wondering, once the infatuation is gone, and love settles in, what would it taste like?

#baekhyun #EXO baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fluff #baekyun fanfiction #baekhyun x oc #witch!baekhyun #exo witch au #exo fantasy au #baekhyun fantasy au #exo fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #exo au #baekhyun series #exo x oc

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brideofedoras · 4 years

Text

The Swimming Pool

What was supposed to be a drabble turned into a one shot instead. Angst, fluff and sexy times. It’s not the best but I was kind of nervous about writing smut to share.

Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own the gif or Vincent...

Warnings: Self-esteem issues, body conscious reader, smut.

Summary: Reader is a woman on the curvy side with self-esteem and body issues. She’s in an established relationship with reformed bad boy Vincent Stevens. She fears she’s not good enough for him, but he proves her wrong.

Her biggest fear was this was too good to be true, just as her mother had warned her from the start. Vincent Stevens was tall and gorgeous, charming when he wanted to be, attentive and gentle. So gentle with her. She had feared he would grow tired of her self-consciousness and shyness. Every guy she had dated since she was first allowed to date had thought it cute at first but quickly tired of not getting anywhere past chaste kisses. Prior to meeting Vincent her longest dating relationship (if you could even call it that) had been two weeks. Two dates.

Vincent had been taking her out twice a week for a month now, to dinner at a nice restaurant (never the fancy ones, she had felt so uncomfortable during their first date he asked her where she wanted to eat when he picked her up for their second date and happily obliged when she requested Steak n Shake), a movie (she was pleased to learn he liked superhero and sci-fi movies just as much as she did, hell he was a nerd behind that sex god smile), even a leisurely stroll through the park holding hands (where they shared their first kiss on the bridge over the little stream meandering through the park grounds. A slow, soft, chaste but satisfying kiss that left her weak in the knees and her heart thundering in her chest. Their second kiss had been at her door when he had taken her home at the end of the evening. A kiss that she had wanted more of until they were both panting and trembling with her lipstick smudged and his hair an absolute wreck but he had been a gentleman and bid her a good night and sweet dreams before heading upstairs to his own apartment).

Last week had been their tenth date, he had surprised her with dinner at a little bistro along the riverfront, requesting a table on the patio and ordering an absolutely divine meal of garlic butter steak bites with cheesy garlic asparagus. He had ordered a chocolate melting cake for dessert to share with her.

He spoon fed the first bite of the sinfully decadent cake to her before leaning in to sneakily kiss the powdered sugar from her bottom lip, a move so bold in a public setting she had blushed easily ten shades of pink and red when he had growled. It had been the moment she knew that she wanted to take things further with him if the night led them there. No planning, no preparation, no pep talks, no second- and third-guessing herself about going all the way. She knew.

But of course something had to bring it all crashing down. Someone, a woman, had approached their table, calling out Vincent’s name with a bright smile on her beautiful face. Someone taller, thinner, bigger-breasted and prettier than her, and judging by the look in the other woman’s eyes and the surprise in Vincent’s they had once upon a time known each other.

She had known about Vincent’s past, he had been upfront and honest with her and had promised he had changed his ways, but seeing the familiarity in his eyes when he looked at the mocha-skinned woman had sent ice through her veins and an ache deep into her chest. Vincent had been quick to send the woman on her way but it was too late. She wanted to go home. The drive back to their apartment complex had been cold, tense, silent, broken only when he had parked the car and she had whispered out a tearful, “Who is she?” His answer? “No one you need to worry about. Just a ghost from the past who has no place in my future.” He had kissed her worries away and promised her he had a surprise for her the following weekend before kissing her deeply and passionately to distract her from asking questions about his plans.

But she worried all week. She worried that she wasn’t good enough for him, wasn’t skinny enough, pretty enough. She worried that her lack of experience would have him heading for the hills. A man like him surely preferred women who weren’t scared of baring their bodies and their souls.

And she was terrified of baring her body to him. She had thick thighs and a pudgy belly and dimples on her butt. The one and only time she’d ever had sex (never again on a first date, she still couldn’t believe she let that jerk pressure her into it) she’d overheard him bashing her to his buddies. The sex had been terrible anyway. It had hurt like hell, he had been sloppy, and he had whimpered when he came. Whimpered. It wasn’t until a couple of years later when she’d gotten her hands on a steamy romance novel that she’d learned that great sex required foreplay, time to adjust, and that women were supposed climax, too. Between the hateful words she’d overheard and feeling cheated during her first time, she had grown to hate her body and fear intimacy.

And after seeing what one of his former lovers looked like… she was one hundred percent positive she was going to be a huge disappointment in Vincent’s beautiful hazel eyes.

She tried to distract herself all week, tried to pamper herself. She got her hair trimmed and colored and her eyebrows waxed on Monday. She talked her best friend into going with her to one of the local spas for a bikini wax but YF/N talked her into getting a Brazilian. Holy fuck that hurt like hell but she liked the smooth feeling down there. Wednesday she said screw it and got a mani and pedi in her favorite shade, aqua.. Last night YF/N treated her to facial masks and margaritas. She could’ve killed YF/N for snapping a photo of her and sending it to Vincent (she was drunk and singing along with Boy George into a damned cucumber, with a green mint julep face mask, her hair pulled back into two buns at the top of her head, wearing an old rock concert teeshirt and boxers. Not the kind of photo she wanted Vincent to see of her).

Despite all that pampering all week long she let that mean little voice in her head convince her she wasn’t good enough, she wasn’t pretty enough, skinny enough, she wasn’t enough.

Yet she stood at the patio door of the private bungalow Vincent had rented for a weekend getaway for the two of them, the surprise he had hinted at the previous weekend before kissing her senseless in his car, watching Vin enjoying the pool on the private deck.

And holy hell the man was naked.

She whined, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

Then Vincent turned, hands moving smoothly over the surface of the water to face the patio doors. His lips curved when he saw her before he held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers to beckon her to join him.

Heat pooled low in her belly at that simple gesture. Those long, lean fingers, callused from years of manual labor and sketching plans, would be her ruin. She knew how gentle those fingers were, how soft, how light, how adoring they were. Last weekend she’d been given a hint of how passionate they could be when he had gotten a little carried away kissing her in the car.

She slid the door open and stepped out onto the wooden deck.

“Did YF/N pack you a suit?” Vincent asked, his hazel eyes taking their sweet time roaming over her still-dressed body and leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Y/N nodded, lowering her head to stare down at her bare feet. “She must’ve bought one for me.” Along with a variety of pretty, sexy and colorful lingerie.

“Why don’t you change into it and join me?” He suggested. “Water’s fine,” his voice dropped into that tone that never failed to make her shiver and turn her on.

“I…” She shook her head.

Vincent made his way to the edge of the pool, chuckling softly when she blushed and kept her eyes glued to her feet. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

She looked up to find him with his arms folded on the edge of the pool, chin resting on them. “I don’t know how to swim, and I panic if I’m knee-deep in water” she admitted quietly. “And… the suit YF/N got… is not the kind I’m comfortable wearing.”

He nodded, his hazel eyes softening but never leaving her E/C pair. “Would you consider changing into something more comfortable and at least sitting at the edge of the pool?” He asked. “I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise.”

Y/N couldn’t resist the way his brow furrowed over his eyes. Dammit, she was a sucker for that look and she was pretty sure he knew it and was exploiting it to his benefit.

She sighed. “All right, but no peeking,” she said after a moment.

His brow shot up but he nodded.

Y/N made her way over to the lounge chairs, turning her back to the pool. She took a deep breath before she unbuttoned and unzipped her skinny capris and shimmied out of them, folding them neatly and laying them on the lounge with Vincent’s clothes. Her cheeks flushed when she realized he had stripped down out here, and part of her wished she had seen it.

She looked over her shoulder. Vincent wasn’t facing her, at least. She breathed a sigh of relief before wriggling out of the tank top she wore under her loose rock band tank top, her bra soon joining it.

It took every ounce of courage she had to turn back to the pool where Vincent had his head resting on his arms, eyes hidden. If Vincent’s look earlier had left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, then her current state of dress left her feeling very unbalanced.

She padded over to the side of the pool and carefully sat down next to him and slipped her feet into the water. She was surprised to find the pool was warm despite the sun setting an hour before.

“You’re right,” she murmured. “The water feels fine.”

“Told ya,” he didn’t lift his head.

She frowned when she realized his tone was strained. Her insecurities flared up as she wondered if she made a mistake, if Vincent was pissed she had told him not to look, that she didn’t want to get in the water or wear a swimsuit. She reached up and rubbed at her breast bone, an old habit whenever her chest would grow tight with anxiety.

Vincent pushed away from the side of the pool suddenly. Her chest tightened even more before she realized he wasn’t moving away from her, but moving to stand in front of her. His wet hands slid up her calves to her knees before gently nudging her legs apart. He positioned himself between her knees and slowly moved his hands up higher on her thighs until he reached the hem of the shirt she wore. When his eyes met hers she found herself drowning in the heat in his hazel irises.

“You have no idea just how beautiful you are,” he murmured.

“I’m not--” Her protest was cut off when Vincent reached up with one hand to cup the back of her head and pull her down for a kiss.

It started out slow, his lips moving against hers. Y/N brought her hands up to cup his stubbled jaw, and that was all the invitation Vincent needed to deepen the kiss. His tongue licked along the seam of her lips and she readily opened for him, welcoming him. She moaned into the kiss when the hand on her thigh dragged up to her hip and the hand at the base of her skull gently fisted into her hair.

She broke the kiss first when her head began to swim. From the rush of desire or from lack of oxygen she couldn’t tell. She whined when Vincent dragged his mouth along her jaw to her ear, his day-old stubble deliciously scratching her skin as he nipped ear earlobe and sucked at her pulse point, replacing the love bite that had faded over the week.

He licked his tongue over the mark. “You are beautiful, Y/N,” his voice was deep, husky, full of promise and so much sin. He lifted his head to look into her eyes. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Don’t shake your head,” his eyes narrowed when she started to protest. “Beauty is more than just what’s on the outside, and believe me, I love what I see,” he brushed a quick kiss to her lips. “It’s also what’s on the inside. You have the most beautiful heart and soul I’ve ever seen.”

“Vin--”

“I’m not done,” he smiled. “I know you’re insecure. I know you’re body shy and scared to take things further. I know you’re afraid I’m comparing you to others. I’m not, Sweetheart. There’s no comparison. You’ve got something they never had.”

Y/N blinked away the tears burning her eyes. “Fifteen extra pounds?”

The hand curved around her right butt cheek tightened. “No,” his voice came out a little stern before he softened. “Unless my heart weighs fifteen pounds.”

She blinked again. “Your… heart?” She gripped his shoulders when her head spun at the implication.

He nodded. “Yeah, my heart. I…” the hand tangled in her hair gently tugged her head forward. “Love…” his breath ghosted over her lips. “You…” the last word was growled out before he captured her mouth in a hot, searing kiss.

When he ended the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers she let out a breathless giggle. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

“Even though I dragged you into the pool with me?”

Y/N pulled back. “What?”

“Must’ve happened when I was kissin’ ya,” he admitted. “Didn’t do it on purpose.”

Her hands tightened on his shoulders when she realized she was indeed in the water up to her ribs, her legs wrapped around Vin’s lean hips and oh dear God his erection felt huge.

But she felt safe. She felt safe because Vin was holding her.

She touched her lips to his once more. “Don’t let go of me,” she whispered.

“I won’t,” he growled before deepening the kiss once more.

All too soon he hoisted her up onto the ledge of the pool before joining her. He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go to bed,” he murmured before easily lifting her into his arms.

Y/N yelped, clutching at his shoulders. No one had ever picked her up before. “Put me down before you hurt yourself, Vin!”

He frowned at her until he saw the tears forming in her eyes. “Not gonna hurt myself, Sweetheart, you’re light as a feather.”

“A 150 pound feather, maybe,” she shook her head, looking away.

“I wish you would quit talkin’ like this, Y/N,” he sighed heavily as he started toward the patio door. “You’re not heavy.”

Her arms tightened around his shoulders when he shifted her weight in his arms to free up his hand.

“Not gonna let you fall, Sweetheart,” he murmured as he slid the door open and carried her into the bungalow.

“You should at least put me down so we don’t fall on this tile,” she warned him when he shut the door behind them. “Trust me, wet feet and ceramic tile are not a good mix, and I don’t fancy another broken arm.”

Vin reluctantly set her on her feet. She had a point and the last thing he wanted was to spend the weekend in the ER. “Not gonna let that happen,” he assured her as he reached for her hands. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

Y/N knew it was inevitable, being naked in front of Vin. But she wasn’t ready for it.

She folded her arms over her stomach, trying to hide the pudge her wet shirt was sticking to as she kept her eyes averted from Vin’s bare backside while he looked for a towel. It had been thirteen years since the last time she’d seen someone naked.

God, I’m thirty years old and practically a virgin, she berated herself.

“Sweetheart,” Vin’s voice drew her back from her negative thoughts. She turned her head to meet his concerned hazel eyes. “You all right?”

“Y-yeah,” she nodded.

“You’re lyin’, Y/N,” he shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

His gentle tone, his furrowed brow, his worried eyes had her crumbling. “I’m scared to let you see me naked,” she whispered, pulling her eyes away from his.

“Sweetheart,” he draped the towel over her shoulders before taking her face in his hands. “You’re beautiful,” he brushed his lips over hers in a soft kiss. “And gorgeous,” he growled out before nipping her bottom lip. “A goddess,” he angled her head and kissed her deeply, leaving her panting heavily when he pulled back.

Her shirt hit the floor with a wet plop, her panties joining it.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, kneeling onto the bed to lay her down against the pillows. He followed, bracing his forearms on either side of her, his left knee knudging between hers.

She opened her thighs for him, her E/C eyes locking with his darkened hazels. The heat, the desire, the love she saw in those swirling colors of brown, gold and green brought a smile to her lips. He loved her. He loved her.

He smiled back before lowering his head to claim her lips once more. Soft, gentle, loving at first before the traced his tongue along the seam of her lips. Once she opened for him he invaded her, dominated her.

He broke the kiss to trail hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses, licks, and love bites along her jaw to her ear. She shuddered, moaning low in her throat when his breath puffed hot on that spot just below her ear. He growled as he licked that spot, earning a high-pitched whine. He teased her neck a little longer, leaving her writhing and whimpering beneath him, his name an incoherent prayer.

Y/N’s fingers fisted into the soft blanket beneath her as Vin continued his erotic exploration on her neck. He had already mapped out every sensitive spot above the collarbone. He knew she loved to be bitten in the fleshy spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. He knew she loved to be licked along her pulse points. He knew she loved to be sucked right below where her jaw and neck connected. He knew she loved to be nuzzled along the back of her neck, from the base of her skull to her nape.

He grazed his teeth along her collar bone, earning a very sensual, guttural moan from her. “Oh, you like that, huh?” He growled, doing it again. Y/N whined his name and cried out when he pressed a slow, soft kiss to the hollow where the collar bones met.

He kissed his way down her breast bone, nuzzling here, licking there, but the moment he nipped the inside of her left breast he knew he had her. She let go of the blankets and tangled her fingers into his short, dark hair, guiding him where she really wanted him. He obliged, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

She moaned as he worked his way to her other breast, teasing her even more. But then he started to work his way down.

Y/N stiffened. “No, Vin, please don’t,” she held still when he started kissing her stomach.

He lifted his head to find her laying there, eyes screwed shut, head turned to the side. “Baby, look at me,” he commanded gently.

She opened her eyes and slowly turned her head.

“I love you,” he kept his eyes on hers as he lowered his head to press a soft kiss to her belly. “All of you,” he shifted back to drop another kiss right above her belly button. “And I’m gonna show you how much,” he shifted even further back and hooked her thighs over his shoulders.

Y/N gasped when he brushed a kiss to her mound before he started nuzzling her inner thighs. He kissed, licked and gently bit her thighs, teasing her, working her back into a frenzy before he dove in and licked her very core.

She cried out, bucking her hips up before he braced his left forearm across her hips to hold her down. She fisted the blanket again as he continued to lick at her folds but once he honed in on her clit she couldn’t hold still.

Too much. It was too. Much. She started babbling his name over and over and over earning a heated growl from him.

Y/N whined when Vin lifted his head to look at her.

“Feel good, Baby?” He asked, his voice deep and husky.

She nodded.

“Want me to continue?”

She whined again.

He shifted until he was leaning over her. “Open your eyes, Sweetheart,” he whispered before reaching his right hand between her thighs. When her eyes met his he gently brushed his fingers along her folds.

She moaned at the sensation of his callused fingers, so different from his tongue and lips. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as he massaged her, gasping when he slipped one long, lean digit into her tight, wet heat. “Vin!”

“Baby, you’re close,” he smiled before pressing his lips to hers. She whined when he invaded her mouth, tasting herself on him as he stroked his finger in and out of her before stroking her clit. “Come for me, Sweetheart,” he whispered, increasing the speed of his finger every time her breath hitched.

She came with a cry, clutching at the blankets. He peppered her face with tender kisses as she slowly came down, nuzzling his nose with hers.

Vin pulled away to lean toward the bedside table and the box of condoms she just now noticed. He quickly and expertly rolled one on before settling between her thighs once more.

Slowly, so slowly he pushed into her, taking her left hand in his right and twining their fingers together, his eyes locking with hers. “You’re so tight, Sweetheart,” he growled. “So perfect,” he rocked his hips into her. Once fully seated inside of her he stilled. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

She hesitated, her cheeks flushing pink. “It’s… been a long time,” she admitted.

He frowned. “How long?” When she turned her head away he brushed a tender kiss to her cheek. “Baby, I only ask because I don’t want to hurt you.”

She blushed even more. “Thirteen years,” she whispered.

He nuzzled his nose along her cheek. “Look at me, Sweetheart.” When her eyes met his he smiled. “You’ll never go that long again,” he promised before covering her lips in a heated kiss.

His hips started to move, slow at first. He shifted his weight onto his right forearm, pinning her hand to the pillow under her head. He stroked his left hand down her side and hip to her thigh, caressing her reverently before grabbing her knee and hooking her leg over his hip. He smiled into her neck when she wrapped her other leg around him.

Vin rocked his hips in a slow, steady rhythm. He slipped his left hand between them to stroke her clit, earning a moan from Y/N. Her tight heat clamped down on his thick girth, causing him to growl and pick up his rhythm.

He released her hand in favor of sitting back on his heels, changing the angle of his thrusts. He palmed her hips, increasing his pace. Y/N cried out his name as she felt her insides coiling tight.

“Wanna see you touch yourself, Y/N,” Vin ground out. He released his hold on her hip to pull her hand from the blanket, settling her fingers over her clit. “You’re close, Baby.”

He growled when she began to massage her clit in a circular motion, her fingertips grazing his length. “That’s it, Baby,” he encouraged her, his hips losing rhythm as he felt his own orgasm building.

“Vin!” Y/N cried out as she climaxed, her body trembling and pulsing around him, dragging him over the edge with her.

He growled out her name as he came, grinding into her as deep as he dared without hurting her. He collapsed onto her, drawing her close to slowly kiss her.

“I love you,” he murmured softly when he felt he could speak.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back.

#karl urban #the loft #sexy pool gif #fluff #angst #smut

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

Prompt 41

Written by: @wendywobbles

Prompt 41: Everlark based off the Hallmark Christmas Movies Meme: I still going to watch them and act surprised when she falls in love with the small town baker who only wears sweaters instead of falling for the big city CEO? Yes! Does not need to be Christmas time, but definitely end game Everlark

Thanks for the prompt, @historywriter2007!

AN: I hope I do some justice to this for you and put a smile on your face….I’m not sure it’s Hallmark Christmas Movie enough so maybe make some hot chocolate and put on the Michael Buble Christmas playlist to help set the scene!

Peeta Mellark had moved to District 12 to take over his Nana Sae’s bakery. Running the place had been his dream since he was kid. He remembered how Sae had introduced him to the wonders of baking from a very young age. She lit a fire in him that time had never diminished.

His dad, William was an only child and while he loved his mother dearly the life of a provincial baker was not for him so he left at 18 for a Capital college and studied Law graduating top of his class. He worked hard for the firm he started with and was made partner before he was thirty. He met and married Isabella and together they had the picture perfect life-or at least it appeared that way. They had three boys Jackson, Davis and Peeta. Peeta has been a surprise addition and when Isabella had found out she was expecting she was convinced that this was her much longed for daughter. So when her third son was born she was devastated. She took to her bed and refused to leave. She showed no interest in the child not even choosing a name for him, but while William fretted he actually did little to help his wife to deal with this situation. Instead he continued going to work and hired a nanny to take care of his youngest child.

When Sae came to visit she could not believe that at three weeks old the child was still being referred to as Baby Mellark. She took her son aside and gave him what for, she visited her daughter in law and gave her what for and then she gave the child his name Peeta James Mellark. Isabella scoffed but she said nothing else after all what did she care what the child was called really?

Peeta grew up, aware that he was not like his brothers although he could not figure out why. His mother lavished attention on his older brothers while he was often ignored. His father was away with work so didn’t see the cruel and spiteful ways Isabella would torment her youngest son, which included sending him out of the Capital to a Boarding School.

Peeta loved District 12 and spent all his school holidays there with his Nana Sae, he rarely visited the Capital or his family there. In 12 he learnt old family recipes, invented new ones. He told Sae of his hopes and fears, he told her about his first kiss, his first love (although looking back it was more like lust). It was Sae he told first that he was planning on going to culinary school and not following his brothers to law school. It was Sae who encouraged him to keep going when his parents refused to pay his tuition and it was Sae who paid them.

As she got older Sae sat him down and told him she wanted him to takeover the business but before he could he needed to go see the world. So he did. He travelled around Panem and then to Europe and Asia working in small family run places and large upscale restaurants honing his skills and seeing this he had only ever dreamed about. He met a girl he thought he’d marry. A formidable chef from London with a lively smile and they shared many of the same interests. They were the perfect couple according to their friends and despite a year of happiness he knew something was missing, the “spark” just wasn’t there, so it was with regret that he decided to part ways with Clove. He kissed her one last time in Trafalgar Square on New Year’s Eve and knew after five years of travel and adventure he was ready to come home.

He headed first to District 12 to catch up with Nana Sae. He filled her in on all that had happened and plans were set that that he would go home and tie up lose ends before returning to take over the Bakery in 2 months. Sae meanwhile would oversee the conversion of the floors above into an apartment for him to live. But as with all the best plans it didn’t quite work out like that.

Two days after he left William rang to tell his mother there had been a dreadful accident and Peeta was in hospital. After coming to see his parents a row had broken out and Isabella had raged against her son telling him what a disappointment he had been, how she wished he had never been born. Her words cut Peeta deep, but he wasn’t surprised by them. He turned to walk away when his mother in a fit of fury picked up a tray of glasses and bottles of alcohol and threw it against the wall. It smashed sending glass flying in all directions one large piece caught Peeta in the leg and immediately he began to bleed and bleed badly. He heard his father cry out as he ran to his side. Peeta’s last thought as he slipped into unconsciousness was that he had never experienced true love…….

He lost his leg.

They tried to save it they said.

And so the move was delayed while Peeta attended rehab and adjusted to life with a prosthetic .

He dealt with feelings of rage and anger. Let them consume him. Eventually he realised that he couldn’t live like that, he sought help and worked through his demons. Old Peeta was gone but new and improved bionic legged Peeta was ready to get back to his life.

He arrived into 12 on a crisp September morning. He walked to the bakery and instantly he felt at home.

“Well old lady aren’t you going to give me a hug” he dropped his bag on the nearest table and opened his arms.

“Peeta! I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow” cried Sae as came out from behind the counter and gave her grandson a hug “Let me look at you. You look well. So very good compared to last time I saw you. Now your furniture and stuff arrived and is upstairs. The additional rails have been fitted on the stairs and the bathroom modified”

“Good. That’s good” Peeta was no longer embarrassed by his leg and the adjustments that needed to be made to allow him to live his best life.

September passed in a blur. Learning the ropes and adjusting to his new schedule took time but by October Sae felt comfortable enough to head to District 4 to visit her old friend Mags and leave Peeta alone. This amused Peeta no end, he was adult but Sae seemed to forget that sometimes.

Peeta had begun to look at making changes to the place. He added new things to the menu. More variety and choices, specialised one of a kind occasion cakes and the addition of decent coffee had meant that Mellark’s was enjoying something of a renaissance. He had started to get to grips with some of Sae’s quirkier habits and had begun to introduce his own.

This included new opening hours.

Nana Sae only opened the bakery from 8am until the bread ran out, she was a one woman show for most of the time so this was suited her. With Peeta the hours were 7.30am to 4.30pm Monday to Saturday with 9.30am to 12.30pm Sunday. He needed staff 2 full timers and maybe 2 part timers and although right now he could handle the baking, but he was considering taking on an apprentice.

He talked to Sae after Halloween, he found that she agreed and so they set to work looking for help and filled the full time positions. Sae suggested he get in touch with Katniss Everdeen out at Prim’s Roses to see if she knew anyone who might be worth considering. He was vaguely aware of Prim’s Roses. It was on the other side of town that was part drop in centre and part residential for local college kids. He actually wasn’t to sure what it was -a sorority maybe- but he trusted Sae so he called ahead, explained who he was and arranged to meet with the head of the place, a Ms Katniss Everdeen.

***********************

He arrived for their meeting a little earlier than he needed to be there and parked up in the drive way of a large two storey house with a porch. The garden was small but well looked after. He looked around taking it in, it really was a lovely place and had a nice feel to it- welcoming and friendly. He walked up to the two steps and knocked on the door.

The door swung open and there stood a petite woman about his age he guessed, with long dark hair, currently pulled into a messy bun, she had eyes like liquid silver and lightly tanned skin and smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Yes?”

“Oh hey, my name is Peeta Mellark I’m here to see Ms Everdeen?”

“Oh right, right. Hi I’m Ms Everdeen come in. I’ll just bring you into the office. Johanna?”

A short spiky haired woman appeared and raised an eyebrow.

“This is Mr Mellark, I’m going to have a quick chat with him. Can you keep an eye on things?”

They went into a small room which housed a number filing cabinets, a desk, some mismatched chairs, an old computer that had seen better days and walls that were covered in pictures and photographs of girls in their late teens early twenties, smiling, graduating, some with kids and partners even pictures of =pets. Each picture was different but the same, all had a happiness in them that just seeped.

“So what brings you here?” Katniss got straight to the point as she gestured at one of the chairs for him to sit into.

“Well I run the bakery, Sae is my grandmother and I’ve taken over, we are looking for staff some part-time workers and Sae suggested I get in touch. I guess because you are a sorority-“

“Mr Mellark Prim’s Roses is not a sorority. We help girls transition from being in the care system and into the world. . For some being in care is all they have ever known and they are wholly unprepared to live in the real world as it were. Some want to go to college, others go straight to work, some don’t know what lies ahead. Here they get time, guidance and learn life skills” she said back in her chair and looked at him.

“Oh…right…ok…. I take it Prim was a person? And the “Roses” bit of the name is because like a rose these girls need a bit of extra time and attention to flourish, but sometimes they come across as hard and have an inbuilt natural defensiveness to keep people away, kind of like thorns?” Peeta stopped why on EARTH had he even said that!!!!

Katniss stared at him, he had gotten the point of the name immediately. Most people just thought it was a play on her sister’s name. “Yes well most people don’t think too much about the name, other then to comment on how pretty it is. My sister and I were place in one of Panem’s Community homes after our parents passed away. I was twelve and Prim was eight. At eighteen I aged out and left the system and the home. I wanted to take my sister with me but a very wise man I met in the Homes sat me down and made me go through my options. The reality was I couldn’t take responsibility for Prim at that point in time. I adapted to life outside that routine well but when Prim turned eighteen she struggled. I was able to help her to get herself organised. For Prim that meant deferring Med School until she was more confident in making her own choices and decisions. We discussed how useful having a person to help you through the first few months like I had been able to do for her. And here we are.”

“Prim is currently in her first year of residency at a hospital in District 8 and what started as a conversation over a glass of milk has turned into this place. When you age out the system, particularly one as controlled as Panem’s even the act of opening your own bank account can seem like huge deal, not to mention the problems from childhood don’t just disappear overnight. Along with practical skills, like budgeting, small things learning to change a lightbulb, we help girls navigate the mountains of red tape that exists and can stop them from accessing birth records and passports or even applying for driving licences. We also help them to link in with counselling-for some it’s grief counselling, other may require more long term medical interventions. We do what we can to help. We have successes but we also have failures but an old mentor once told me that failures can be viewed as learning experiences, everyone fails at some point, just keep trying don’t let it defeat you. Granted to an 18 year old this probably seems like an awful motto . So why are you here?”

“Your girls- I’m sorry what should I call them?” Peeta wanted to make sure she knew he wasn’t here to disrespect anyone.

“Girls is fine, for now” she smiled.

“Ok, would there be any interest in anyone applying for the jobs at the bakery?”

“I think so, part time positions?”

“Yes, initially although who knows what the future holds?” he smiled “I really admire what you are doing here. It’s fantastic really. If there is anything else I can do to help you guys out please just give me a shout. May I?” He indicated to a post-it pad and pen lying nearby and with Katniss agreement he wrote out his contact information.

“Mr Mellark, thank you so much for stopping by. I’ll talk to everyone this evening and have anyone interested submit a CV?”

“It’s Peeta and yes that would be perfect” he stuck out his hand to shake hers, and when then touched he was jolted by something. She pulled back her hand clearly she had felt it too.

“Oww flaming static, I’m always the same” Katniss smirked “and Peeta you can call me Katniss”

They walked out to the front door just as Johanna appeared “Hey Kat, Gale Hawthorne of Hawthorne Electrics has just called. He saw you speak at a charity event and he wants to talk to you about funding”

“Wow Ms Everdeen- sorry Katniss you clearly have friends in high places. I’ll leave you too it, and next time your in town drop in and say hi there’s a hot chocolate in it for you”

Before she could answer Johanna called out “Promise to Irish that hot chocolate up and I will definitely pop in Blondie”

And that was how Peeta met Katniss. And Johanna.

********************

In the course of just a few week Katniss and Peeta became good friends, despite the fact that they were completely opposite in many ways:

He liked art. She didn’t see the point.

He was a morning person. She was not.

She was hot headed. He was calm.

She could sit for hours quietly. He was a chatter box.

He had the patience to complete intricate cake designs creating masterpieces from just sugar, water and food colouring. She was good at eating his cakes the decorating part no so much he let her once, never again.

He liked tea, she drank coffee.

Her childhood before her parents had passed away had been happy, Peeta’s had not. Katniss hated that Peeta had had such a rough time but loved that he still say goodness in the world.

She never wanted to get married. He did.

He wanted kids, she didn’t

She loved Halloween, he loved Christmas, and now that December was on the way he was getting down to the serious business of choosing Christmas sweaters for his staff.

She had the voice of an angel, he did not.

But for each difference they had many things is common. They were hard workers, kind hearted, generous, giving, they enjoyed 1980’s movies of any kind and a love of Gordon Ramsey that bordered on obsessional.

******************************

Peeta had hired Rue and Glenda-or Glimmer- as she insisted on being called- from Prim’s Roses. Rue was attending college studying Computer Science. Glimmer didn’t know what she wanted to do and quite by accident they discovered that Glimmer has a knack for cooking, even old Sae was impressed. Glimmer had an incredible natural palate and talent that most chefs could only dream of. Peeta and Katniss helped her to apply for culinary schools, and looked at the various options to fund this for her. She was accepted to school in District 2 but although she had received funding to cover the cost and had received a small stipend when she has aged out of the system she still had to figure where she was going to live and then work so she should could look after rent and bills.

Peeta remembered an old buddy of his had a place in 2 and put in a call. Cato immediately offered up a solution. He was short staffed so she could work at his bar/restaurant part time. Initially a waitress position but he could give her some kitchen work as well. Katniss called Enobaria Lewis who she knew ran a similar project to hers in District 2 and explained the situation. A couple of days later she had a room in a shared house to offer Glimmer. The other tenants were of similar age and background. Sae paid for Glimmer to out to meet Enobaria and the other girls to see if they “clicked” after all she was moving so far away. Sae had a huge soft spot of Glimmer and she was worried “her baby girl” would get there and everyone would hate each other and Glimmer would be stuck. Luckily they all hit it off. College didn’t start until January but Glimmer decided to move to 2 more or less straight away she could start work full time, earn some cash, get to grips the with city and be completely settled in by start of the course.

*************************************************

Right now Peeta and Johanna were sitting in the living room of the Prim’s Roses house listening to Katniss practice the presentation she would be delivering in two days to the Board of Hawthorne Electronics.

Gale Hawthorne had been in touch and then arrived into District 12 for a one to one meeting with Katniss three days after Peeta had met Katniss to discuss funding for Prim’s Roses. Katniss was taken aback by the gorgeous man that stood in front of her. He was tall, had dark hair, grey curious eyes and when he smiled his face changed so much he looked younger more, carefree.

They had quickly got down to business he told her the Hawthorne Electronics was interested in providing her and her organisation with funding to help her grow, They needed new equipment, additional space and to increase the supports to the service users and they would like to back them. Gale had a quick mind and asked all kinds of questions but Katniss was able to answer them.

“Katniss, you present like this it the Board and I can’t see how they can refuse you. They will love you”

Katniss was beaming and then Gale has asked her out. She said yes.

Gale was the perfect partner for Katniss. He loved the outdoors and hunting so the house was well stocked with meat for the coming months. He had a drive to match her own. He loved his family and they were the main driving force for him to succeed.

Although sometimes he wasn’t the most observant and didn’t really listen. Like the time he bought her a new jacket to replace the old leather one she wore. She thanked him but politely told him to take it back , explaining once more that her current jacket belonged to her father and she wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.

When he kissed her, Katniss first thought was “Well this is nice” her second was “Who describes their first kiss with her boyfriend as nice?” she brushed it aside. Katniss relationship with Gale was easy she knew not every relationship was fireworks and drama. They lived so far apart and they weren’t living in each other’s pockets that it suited Katniss. Sometimes their only contact was a few text message a few times a day, but that was normal right?

Now with days to go before the big presentation Katniss was a ball of nerves.

“Katniss you will be amazing. They will love you. You speak from the heart but you have all the facts and figures, research results and testimonies to back up what you’re trying to do. If they pass up an opportunity to partner with you then they are fools” Peeta stood up and pulled her into a hug, again they were blasted by static.

“Mellark! Will you take off that awful polyester Christmas jumper when you touch me me it’s like hugging an electric fence”

Johanna snorted “Ah leave him alone I happen to think he looks positively festivetastic in that”

A knock on the front door interrupted them. Katniss answered it and there stood Gale a large bunch of roses in his arms. “Hey babe” he said as he leaned in to kiss her “I thought maybe you could come to the city with me a day early let me show you around before the meeting? Here these are for you. Roses being your favourite after all” he gestured round as he said this.

“Erm Gale I can’t just leave. I have things that need to do before I go. I’m sorry but this was a wasted trip for you”

“Can’t Jo look after things?” Gale dismissed her concerns.

“No. Absolutely not. Gale if you have free time why don’t you stay in District 12 and then travel up with me tomorrow night?”

“Great idea babe, I’ll grab my stuff”

“Gale you can’t stay here. Seriously, we’ve been through this, it isn’t appropriate while I live under the same roof as the girls. Book into the hotel in town I’ll swing by later if I get time if not I will meet you for breakfast” she leaned up and kissed him.

“Fine” Gale snapped and walked away.

Katniss looked at the roses and then at Johanna “Please get rid of these. I absolutely hate the things”

Peeta laughed at her “Poor fella, he should have just brought you some dandelions they are your favourite after all. Right to the kitchen we have a cooking class to teach” Peeta had taken to giving lessons to anyone interested in learning to cook. He was teaching them how to make nutritious meals but that were low cost. He was also showing them some no cook ideas. They classes were proving a hit. Even Katniss was learning something.

****************************************

The presentation went better than planned and plans were in motion for funding to start in the New Year.

The night after celebrating Gale told Katniss he loved her. She was stunned. Did she love him? She respected him, enjoyed his company, they had fun, kissing him was ok and the couple of times they had “made love” as he insisted on calling it had been nice-he didn’t make the earth move but so that stuff was overrated right(if she was being honest no man she has ever slept with had rocked her world) Maybe it was love? So she smiled and said “Ditto” he laughed and told her she was so cute.

****************************************

With a week to go to Christmas District 12 was blaze of festive colour. Peeta had gotten the local vendors to agree to contribute money toward new lights and to put a giant tree being up in the town square. Shop fronts were painted, there was Carollers singing dressed in what she assumed was Dickens style clothing all bonnets and hats. In Katniss opinion it looked like Christmas itself had vomited on the town.

Gale and her were walking along hand in hand stopping here and there to look at this and that, and Katniss was content. Gale was the perfect boyfriend, everyone said so. Prim who was in town for a few days was bowled over by the charming, educated, wealthy Mr Hawthorne and declared he was a vast improvement on Katniss last boyfriend Darius. They were heading to Mellark’s to grab some hot chocolate before heading back to the house. Gale was particularly keen to get back to the house.

When then entered the bakery Katniss was overwhelmed by the scent of ginger and cinnamon. It smelt just like Christmas should. She waved to Rue and Diana, who had replaced Glimmer. Peeta had opened up the interior a bit more since taking over so people could sit and have coffee. He told Katniss he planned to do more as time went on but for now he was happy at the pace things were going. Peeta came through from the kitchen with fresh cookies and Stollen muffins, he nodded at Katniss and Gale. Gale returned his nod Katniss waved and asked him if he had a minute.

“Hey guys how are you?” Peeta walked towards them Katniss noticed he was limping slightly.

“We’re good but you by the looks of things haven’t been looking after yourself properly? Are you getting enough rest? Did you fall asleep last night without taking your leg off? “Katniss asked.

Gale’s head swivelled to look at Peeta “You have one leg?!” he blurted out

Peeta snorted laughing “Yep, you didn’t know? I’m part bionic so don’t ever challenge me to a race I’ll easily beat you”

“Stop teasing him Peeta and let me introduce you to Primrose my sister” she waved to Prim would was currently shoving a muffin in her face.

“Oh my god Katniss…this stuff is amazing…”

“Thanks glad you like it. I’m Peeta the maker of those amazing muffins”

They chatted for a bit until Gale cleared his throat and told Katniss they needed to go. As they turned to leave Rue whistled and pointed about Peeta’s head where a piece of mistletoe was hanging. “You know the rules” she giggled.

Gale laughed and kissed Peeta on the check, then Diana called out to Katniss “Come on you’re more under it then Gale give Peeta a kiss”

The was absurd thought Katniss but she leaned in and went to place a kiss on his cheek, Prim was laughing and pushed Katniss, she stumbled and her kiss landed closer to his lips then she intended.

And there it was that spark of static again but this time with the jolt images that shot through her head: a wedding, laying in a meadow with Peeta plaiting her hair, two children one dark, one blond, she pulled back from Peeta the confusion she felt was mirrored in his eyes.

“Ok, well bye” they both said at the same time.

Peeta practically ran back to the kitchen wondering what the hell had just happened?

Meanwhile Katniss walked out the door wondering exactly the same thing.

*****************************

When they got back to the Prim’s Roses house, Gale was giddy like a child and Katniss was distracted. He sat her down and began a speech about although they had only known each other a short time, he was certain she was “the one” and he wanted to give her something.

“Hmmmm what sorry Gale? What’s one?”

“Aren’t you listening I said you’re the one. The one for me. We are physically and emotionally compatible and well I don’t see the point in waiting I am a man who goes after what he wants. So Katniss Everdeen will you marry me?” Gale stood there with a yellow gold ring with a huge pear cut diamond. It was beautiful but it wasn’t her. She looked Gale in the eye and shook her head.

“I’m sorry Gale no, I can’t if I accept I will be condemning us both to live half a life. You are wonderful, truly wonderful but you need to find someone who makes you spark. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes. I think I do” he sat down beside her “On paper we’re perfect but the reality is not so good. I think we might be better friends than life partners”

Katniss laughed “Gale, that exactly my point I don’t want to be a “life partner” it all sounds a bit businessy when you say it. You deserve the world and you won’t get it with me. As your friend though can I give you one tip? They next time you propose to someone and you have to describe the two of you “as physically and emotionally compatible” stop and run away. They are not the one for you either”

He looked at her and the two of them burst out laughing.

A short time later Gale got ready to leave. He told Katniss he would be in touch regarding the funding and he would like if possible to look at bringing the Prim’s Roses model to other areas to help young men and women adjust to life after care.

News of the break up spread, Katniss wasn’t too upset. Peeta asked her about it. She felt weird talking to him but she told him the truth that there just wasn’t enough between them to grow a relationship.

Things continued as they had always done Peeta helped out when he could, Katniss regularly visited for free hot chocolate. They didn’t mention the kiss at Christmas time . Rare night off together were spent watching Masterchef US and bad 80’s movies. With the additional funding Katniss was able to hire some new staff one of her first hires was a young Social Worker called Leevy who was one of the first girls to come through Prim’s Roses doors. She was a great fit for the place.

Gale rang Katniss six weeks after the break up and told her he had met someone. She laughed when he told her that when they kissed for the first time he would swear fireworks were going off.

On the night before Valentine’s Day Katniss sat on Peeta couch watching that most romantic of movies “The Goonies” and she realised how absolutely content she felt, she reached to grab some popcorn just as Peeta did and their hands touched, there was that jolt again only this time she didn’t pull away and neither did he.

The never made it to the end of the movie.

But Katniss did discover that night that with the right person the earth really can move.

As for Peeta well Peeta finally experienced true love firstly with Katniss and then three years later when their twins were born, a raven haired girl and a little boy with a mass of blond curls.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #wendywobbles #historywriter2007 #prompt 41 #submission

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