#but i did thoroughly enjoy writing it over the summer and i keep looking at it even now going ouguhhhghh... pale rider.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seidenbros · 2 years

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Rainbow in the Dark

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Summary: After reuniting with Eddie and argueing with him, you said that you'd talk over dinner, but Eddie didn't get in touch with you through the last week of school before spring break. When his friend Dustin appears at your door with another friend looking for him, you panick, especially after they tell you what has been found at his trailer. You need to find him, no matter your last conversation, because you know that Eddie never could have killed anyone.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Word count: 6k something

Warning/Tags: angst, a bit of fluss, canon-divergence (because we're starting to get into Season 4 now, so Y/N is a part of the whole story), hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence mentioned, scared and hurt Eddie, flashback to their childhood, call it a fix-it-fic in the end (let me know if I missed anything)

Author’s note: Part 3? Yeah kinda ended up here. I didn't want this to turn into this kinda thing, BUT HERE WE ARE, because the words just keep tumbling onto the pages. Not what I wanted, not what I planned, but apparently what I need to write, so be aware that from here on out, we're heading into the storyline of Seaason 4.

On AO3

A week had passed and you hadn’t heard from Eddie. It was the last week of school before spring break, and there was still a lot going on - and you knew that Eddie liked to finish his campaigns before the break, always had. Needless to say, you hadn’t gone to the club meeting the following Monday, even though you’d said that you’d be there, but with everything Eddie and you had thrown at each other once you’d been alone again, you really hadn’t been able to bring yourself to go. It wasn’t like you were a part of the club anyway, just someone sitting in and watching them, and while you’d thoroughly enjoyed it and would love to do that again, it would have been a really awkward situation.

Eddie and you still had so much to talk about, to clear the air, but that was something you needed to do alone. Just the two of you on neutral ground. It was up to him, though, to get in touch with you, and now that the last day of school was over, you hoped that he would come along and tell you when and where you could meet. If he didn’t… you’d pack up your things and leave Hawkins for good. If Eddie didn’t want you here, there was no reason to make Hawkins your home again. NYC was where your life had been at for the last couple of years, and you had a place at Juilliard waiting for you when you came back. Only that you didn’t really want to go back. In theory, you had a perfect life, but in reality, there was someone you missed more than anything…

—

‘80

“You hummin’ Srpingsteen again?” Eddie sat up to look down at you. You’d spent the whole day out here by the lake, enjoying the peace and quiet while looking at the clouds. Just a lazy summer day after weeks of school that you didn’t have to worry about right now.

“I'll love you with all the madness in my soul,” you just sang in response, following it up by a giggle. You meant every word, because you loved your best friend, not sure at that time that you loved him even more than that. Right now, you were just two carefree teenagers that spent most of their time together, just like best friends did.

“Yeah, you’re mad, I have to agree!” Eddie shook his head, but his smile remained in place. For weeks you’d been humming Born to Run, trying your best to learn it on guitar, but you’d given up after some time. Hence the humming and the singing, which you always did when you weren’t able to play a song. Sure, there were a lot of songs that you could play and sing, but when you weren’t able to play, you put your whole heart into singing.

Oh, Eddie loved hearing you sing, no matter what song, even the really sappy love songs that you sometimes quietly sang when you both tried to fall asleep. Not his usual kind of music, but with you… he enjoyed everything.

“We’re all mad here, dear Alice. I’m mad, you’re mad.”

“Yeah, can’t help you. You rubbed off on me.”

Eddie laughed as he lay back down, but in the next moment, he was tackled by your, your hand on his sides, making him laugh even harder. He tried to get you off of him, but he wasn’t very successful.

“Have mercy! Please!” he choked out, trying to get some air into his lungs. “I surrender! I can’t breathe!”

You slowled your hands, because you were laughing as well, but you lay down on top of him trying to catch your breath. Eddie’s heart was beating so hard in his chest, that you felt it against your own, but he was slowly calming down. For a moment, the two of you simply lay there entangled, coming down from your laughing fits, catching your breaths. Once his heart was beating at a normal rate again, Eddie raised his head and his hand to brush a few loose strands from your face so that he could look at you.

“Want me to teach you how to play it?” he asked quietly, lost in your eyes for a moment - the moment he realised that it wasn’t only friendship anymore that he felt, that there was something more between the two of you.

“Teach me what?”

“Born to Run. I learned how to play it, so…” Eddie shrugged his shoulders like it was not a big deal that he’d learned how to play your favourite song of the moment, even though he himself hadn’t been that interested in it at first. Now, he had to admit that it was fun to play, but that was a secret he’d keep.

“Are you serious?” You quickly set up, settling your butt on his thighs. Your whole face lit up. “Eddie Munson, are you telling me, you learned that song just so you could teach me?”

“Maybe… Maybe yes?” He cocked his head to the side, couldn’t help but grin at your reaction. “Yeah… Yeah I did.”

—

‘86

“Y/N are you there?”

Until now you’d been dosing on the sofa, your dreams invaded by memories from years ago that had left a soft smile on your lips. But now, you were woken by the banging on your door.

“Come on, open up please!”

The urgency in the voice made you get up immediately and walk the short distance barefooted. Except for Eddie and your aunt, pretty much nobody knew that you were here, and you’d liked it that way, had used the time for yourself, to sort through some stuff - and think about what Eddie could have meant when you’d last talked.

“Dustin?!” you said surprised as soon as you’d opened the door. He’d been so sweet to you, so of course you’d remembered his name. But he wasn’t alone. There was a girl with him you hadn’t seen before.

“Max,” she introduced herself after seeing your questioning look.

“Y/N… but what is going on?”

“Is Eddie here?” Dustin walked past you without waiting for an invitation.

“Sure, why don’t you come in?” With a sigh you stepped out of the way to let Max follow as well. Dusting looked around the guest house, as if he’d find Eddie hiding somewhere behind a pillow. “I haven’t talked to Eddie since Friday last week. I don’t know what he told you…” And you really didn’t want to know to be honest, after that heated argument.

“We really need to find him,” Max spoke up, arms crossed over her chest. She seemed nervous, but that might just have been your impression.

“Has he told you anything? Has he called?” Dustin put all of his attention on you again, pretty sure that he wouldn’t find Eddie anywhere here. “Is there anywhere where he went when he needed to get out?”

“He usually came to my place.” Always had, because he’d been safe with you and your family. Sure, he’d always been safe with Wayne as well, but there had been times, where he’d wanted to hide from the world, and that had usually happened in your old room with the fairy lights all around your bed, like the first night he’d stayed with you at just ten years old. “Will you tell me what the fuck is going on, Dustin?”

He hesitated for a moment, looked at Max and then back at you. But Max beat him, knowing that she’d get the facts out quicker than Dustin anyway, because he was too agitated at the moment.

“They found a dead body in Eddie’s trailer. A girl from our school. I saw her there with him last night. The police are all over the place and looking for him.

“They… what?” Trying to comprehend what you were hearing, you stumbled backwards a little bit, grabbed onto the backrest of the sofa for some support, because right now, you felt like you’d faint any minute. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real, was it? “Eddie could never…” Firmly, you shook your head. You knew him, and even though you hadn’t seen him in years, you knew that Eddie would never intentionally harm anyone.

“We know.” Dustin came over to you, put his hand on your shoulder in a reassuring way, but also to ground himself a little bit. “He’d never do anything like that.” Another look at Max, before Dustin looked back at you, saw the same concern and panic reflected in your eyes as he felt. “That’s why we need to find him.”

“I’d love to help, but I can’t tell you a lot. We haven’t talked for five years, so I have no idea what he’d been up to.” You rubbed both of your hands across your face, trying your hardest to focus, but your mind was spinning. Eddie a murderer? He might be a lot of things, but not that. “So much has changed, but he’s still friends with Jeff and Gareth. Maybe they know something.”

“We should talk to Steve and Robin. Maybe they can help.”

You had no idea whether you knew these people or not - after all, Hawkins was a smalltown and you were bound to cross paths with most people here multiple times - but as long as they could help, you were willing to try everything.

“Let me just…” you mumbled before you quickly got up and put on some shoes. You grabbed your bag and keys before you ushered both kids outside.

“You really don’t,” Dustin started, but you cut him off immediately.

“Get in the car and tell me where to go. You don’t think I’ll be staying here and leave you to it, do you?” Both of them were silent, just like you’d thought.

And so you found yourself at Family Video talking to Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington for a moment while Dustin and Max worked their magic on the computer. You knew both of them, just not very well, but you’d seen them around. Even back then, Steve had already been known for his hair, so you were kinda happy that that hadn’t changed like pretty much everything else.

You got busy on the phone, calling Eddie’s friends, looking for the tiniest of clues that could maybe help you. And you found something.

“Drugs?” you asked as Max told you that Eddie gets them from someone named Reefer Rick. Your head started spinning. Yeah, a lot had changed indeed, but that was not important right now. You needed to find Eddie, not judge him for taking drugs. “Nevermind. Do you know that guy?”

“Heard about him,” Steve spoke up, scrunching up his nose in thought, but he couldn’t come up with anything. “Don’t know where he lives though.”

It was Robin’s idea to look in the computer and try to find him. Pretty much everyone in town had an account at family video. It was a long shot, but in the end a huge success, because you found him. At least you were pretty sure that you had found him. There was only one way to find out.

You took it upon yourself to drive out there. Not that you didn’t trust Steve to drive, you did, but… you needed the distraction so that you wouldn’t get lost in your thoughts. Of course, you worried about Eddie, didn’t know whether he was alright, or if he’d actually be at Reefer Rick’s house, but you hoped that you’d find him. And you had to cling onto this hope to not start crying. As a kid Eddie had been in a house with his parents, all alone because they hadn’t cared. And now, he was somewhere all alone because he had nowhere to go. It broke your heart. He should have come to you, nobody would have found him there, but after your argument… yeah, it made sense that he didn’t trust you.

—

It was quiet out here, so when Eddie thought he’d heard a car, he listened intently, only to hear car doors being slammed the next moment. Fuck! He needed to get away or at least hide, because if he got out of the boathouse whoever was there would probably see him - so hiding it was. There weren’t a lot of options, but he tried his best to hide inside the boat, pulled the tarp over his body so that nobody would see him at least immediately.

Do your demons, do they ever let you go?

Eddie could curse his own mind for hitting him with the most fitting song lyrics in this moment. All this time, he’d tried to think of songs so that he didn’t think of what had happened the night before, but as soon as he closed his eyes, the picture of Chrissy’s contorted body on the ceiling of his trailer flooded his mind. The sound of her snapping bones echoed in his ears every now and then, and thinking of music, humming to himself was the only way to drown it out for some time. So no, his demons didn’t let him go.

He hadn’t slept at all, always wary of his surroundings. He knew that they must have found Chrissy by now, that they would be looking for him. More than that, it was the fear this moment had inflicted upon him, that kept him here, where nobody would (hopefully) find him. But someone was here. Someone, who was coming inside now.

Eddie held onto the broken bottle in his hand, the only weapon he had, and it wouldn’t really get him far, but it was something. There was more than one person, but he didn’t know how many. He couldn’t even make out what they were saying, because his heart was beating so fast, fear gripping him tight.

They hadn’t seen him in the dim light, and he tried his hardest to control his breathing, focusing on himself instead of the people here, but when he felt something prod against his leg, wandering upwards, Eddie snapped. He sprung out of the boat, grabbed the guy by his shoulder and pushed him against the wall. Right now, the broken bottle seemed just the right thing, because he held it against the other one’s throat, not inflicting pain, but fear for now.

Eddie was so focused, so riled up, that he still didn’t realise who these people around him were, and he didn’t even look at first.

“EDDIE! EDDIE! It’s me! It’s Dustin!” Dustin desperately tried to get Eddie’s attention so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. At least, he was looking at Henderson now, but he still didn’t let go of Steve. “This is Steve! He’s not gonna hurt you, right?”

Eddie looked back from Dustin to Steve, who eventually dropped the oar. He’d been holding his breath this whole time, but spoke up now, only to reassure Eddie, which… didn’t really work that well in the beginning, but Dustin reassured Eddie again, got his attention.

“What are you doing here?” Fear was still grabbing the back of Eddie’s neck, made him paranoid and ready to run any minute now, even if it meant jumping in the water to get away from here.

“We’re looking for you!”

“We’re here to help!” Robin spoke up now, and Eddie looked at them both, Max and you right behind them.

“These are my friends,” Dustin continued to talk now that he had Eddie’s attention. He hadn’t realised that you were there as well, still trying to focus on what was going on altogether. He introduced Robin and Max and… “And we got Y/N as well.”

Seeing him like that… God, you just wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him that everything would be alright, that you knew that he never could have done anything like that. On your way here, Max had told you exactly what she’d seen, the state Chrissy’s body had been in. It was one thing to see these things in horror movies, but another when it happened in real life. But that wasn’t all. They’d also filled you in on everything that had happened the last couple of years, though you didn’t know whether you could really believe what they’d told you or not. It sounded absolutely surreal, like something right out of a movie, but they had no reason to lie to you, did they? Still, you had your doubts, and you’d told them that as well, but it was okay. You had a feeling that you’d find out how much of that was true soon.

The look in Eddie’s eyes was the same you’d seen when he’d told you about his parents, about his life at home, though it was laced with a whole lot more fear right now. Back then, he’d been sad and lonely, but you’d helped each other. Now… now, you really wanted to help him and show him that he wasn’t in this battle alone. Even if you’d argued, had thrown stuff at each other’s heads that you couldn’t take back, you’d still always have his back.

His gaze on you got even more intense, like you were something he’d conjured up from his dreams. Eddie stepped back and let go of Steve, slowly slid down the wall to sit down. He still had the bottle in hand when Dustin approached him. If you were here, that could only mean that he was in a dream. Or maybe even in a coma. There was no other explanation after the way he’d behaved towards you. Or maybe he’d already been in a coma when he’d met you again a week ago. It made more sense to him than what was really going on.

His hands were still shaking when Dustin approached him, but Eddie didn’t let him take the bottle. It was almost like he needed to hold onto it to feel safe.

“Eddie…” you eventually said, not able to see him like that anymore. It broke your heart that you couldn’t take the pain and fear away from him immediately. “Eddie, look at me!”

And he did. Ignoring everyone else around, he looked up at you, locked his eyes with yours. His hands stopped shaking, he even dropped the bottle as you approached, taking Dustin’s spot in front of him. You got down on your knees and reached for his hands. Your warm touch was soothing to him, made him realise that this was not a dream, no coma, that you were really here, which was bittersweet, because it also meant that the whole Chrissy-thing had really happened as well.

“We wanna know what happened.” Robin quietly spoke up again. She didn’t want to interrupt you now that Eddie was calming down a little bit, but they needed his side of the story.

“You won’t believe me.” Eddie said, shaking his head slightly before he looked at the others, hands still in yours, gripping them a little tighter now. You drew circles on the backs of his hands with your thumbs, calming both him and yourself down. It had worked back in the day, so you were hoping that it would do something for him now as well.

“Try us!” Max told him, and so he did. He told you everything that had happened, the pain in his voice nearly unbearable for you, but you kept your eyes down on your joined hands, repeating your movements again and again. What happened to Chrissy… God it was horrible, but Eddie had had to witness all that without being able to help her. Of course he felt guilty, you knew him too well to think otherwise.

“And her eyes…” Eddie needed a moment to get the rest of the words out, the memories too vivid in his head, but he kept on talking. This time you couldn’t keep the tears in, but didn’t show them to anyone. Eddie felt them on his hands, though, the wet droplets falling down on his cold hands, gliding along them before they fell to the floor. Now, it was Eddie who started rubbing his thumb along your fingers, a soothing motion for him and you as well, and it helped. Right now, you were helping each other.

“You all think I'm crazy, right?” Eddie was frantic now, because he knew how that sounded, but Dustin tried to reassure him that you didn’t think that. You knew why, because they’d told you about everything in Hawkins, and Eddie didn’t have a clue yet. But they told him, filled him in on what was going on… beneath Hawkins, about the other world, the Upside Down. it still sounded so surreal to you, but Eddie’s story pretty much underlined what they’d told you so far.

“Vecna’s curse,” Dustin said after Eddie had told you a little more detail about the night before, about the way Chrissy had behaved, how he hadn’t been able to wake her.

“Vecna? From your D&D campaign?” you asked, and they nodded. And it somehow made sense. Dustin and Eddie described who Vecna was after Steve had asked, and everything… seemed to fit. At least you knew what to call… who- or whatever was responsible for this. It had a name.

Slowly, you got up with Eddie and eventually let go of his hands. This whole situation was… overwhelming, but someone needed to take charge. Apart from Eddie, you were the oldest, and while Steve acted as some kind of parents around the others - oh yes, you’d picked up on that right away - you still felt like you needed to do something.

“We’ll need some supplies. We can’t get Eddie out of here, yo he’ll have to stay here.” You dug into your pocket to get your car keys out. “Harrington, take me car!” You threw him the keys. “Come back in the morning, okay?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eddie grabbed your wrist and pulled slightly so that you had to look at him again.

“What do you think? I’m staying of course.”

“Are you crazy? It’s not safe!”

“Oh, shut it, Munson! You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not leaving you here all by yourself.”

He could try his best to talk you out of it, but he wouldn’t have any luck there. Even if he ended up ignoring you, you didn’t care. As long as you were here, you could make sure that he was okay. If someone turned up here, you could tell them that you were here alone, guide them in the wrong direction.

“She’s bossy,” Robin whispered to Steve, but you could see the smirk on her lips. Yes, you could get bossy if you needed to, and right now, you really didn’t want Eddie to try and talk you out of it. Your great aunt wouldn’t miss you, so that wasn’t a problem.

“Be good to her!” you admonished Steve when you walked them out the door, talking about your car. It wasn’t a new one, but you still loved it.

Once they were at the car, you closed the door again, before you turned towards Eddie. He’d walked up to you, was standing right in front of you now.

“I don’t want to pull you into this, y/n.”

“I chose to come, Eddie, you didn’t ask anything of me. I’m here because I want to be here.”

“I was pretty sure I’d just made you up… that I was hallucinating.”

“Understandable…” You took a deep breath. After everything you’d heard today, everything Eddie had said, you really knew why he’d think that. “But I’m here… and I’m not going anywhere.” You took his hand and placed it on your cheek, making sure that he could feel that you were really right in front of him.

His thumb brushed across your soft skin, his eyes locked on yours, until they travelled across the bridge of your nose to its tip, to your lips that he’d dreamed of kissing again for so long, but then his eyes landed on the ring on your finger. He’d thought about it ever since he’d met you again, had wondered whether it was the ring he’d given you or some other ring.

So, he took your hand in his and guided it closer to his face to inspect the ring. His name was engraved on the inside, so he couldn’t see it without taking it off your hand, but it sure looked exactly like you wedding/promise rings.

“It’s the one,” you said quietly, knowing what he was looking for, because you’d been looking for his as well, though it was hard to tell with all the rings he was wearing. “It’s yours.”

“You’re still wearing it.” An astonished smile appeared on his lips, because he might have hoped that you were still wearing it, still kept your promise close to your heart, but he hadn’t believed it. Not after he’d seen you with that other guy years ago.

“Of course I am. Never really took it off.”

“Neither have I.” He held up his hand with the ring on it and smiled down at you. The intensity in his look made you open your lips to say something, but you thought better of it.

“As much as I want to keep talking to you… you should really get some sleep.”

“Tried. Didn’t work out.” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, avoiding your gaze now. He didn’t want to tell you about the pictures appearing as soon as he closed his eyes, but you already knew. Or at least you could guess after everything he’d told you, and you’d been with him years ago when he’d been plagued by nightmares for weeks.

“Let’s try again, alright? I’m here to watch over you.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he scoffed and shook his head. He felt pathetic, even though he knew that he didn’t have to feel that way around you.

“Well… let’s just say we watch out for each other, okay? Because I’ll sleep better next to you.” That had always been the case. You’d had to get used to sleeping alone without Eddie anywhere close, and you’d adapted, but ever since you were back in Hawkins, you’d tossed and turned until you’d finally fallen asleep late at night.

“In that case… alright.” The corners of his mouth quirked up just the tiniest bit, but you picked up on it, like you always did. Right now, he really didn’t have a reason to smile, so you were happy to at least see this little movement.

You looked around for a moment, but it wasn’t safe to go into the main house, so you had to stay here. The only thing that could serve as a bed was the boat, so you got to work to take everything out that wasn’t necessary, and found a couple of old blankets that would do. Of course, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable place to sleep, but in your situation, this was as good as it would get.

You climbed in and got comfortable on your back, before you motioned for Eddie to join you.

“There’s not a lot of room in there.” Eddie’s way of asking you if it was really okay to be so close to you after everything you’d said to each other last week.

“We’ve been able to sleep in even smaller spaces, remember?” A warm feeling rushed over you at the memory. One night, you’d watched a horror movie that had scared both of you so much that you’d slept on the floor of your closet, which was normally just big enough for you to sleep in, but you’d managed to do that together for one night. “Come on… you can just scoot down a little bit and use my belly as a pillow.”

It had been years since you’d laid like that the last time, but Eddie had always found comfort in this position. Your body beneath his, his head on your belly, hand on your waist while your fingertips ran through his hair. Normally, nobody was allowed to touch his hair, but you… You’d played with his hair, combed it with your fingers, had massaged his scalp so many times, even before you’d been in a relationship. Because friends comforted each other. And this was what you were still, right? Friends.

Eddie hesitated for a moment, but then he complied. Crawled into the boat and stretched out his body, head resting on your stomach. Your skin immediately started tingling right where his hand rested on your waist, because Eddie being Eddie, he’d snuck his hands beneath your shirt to touch the soft skin. It made him feel safe. You made him feel safe.

Eddie closed his eyes, but sleep was nowhere to be found for now, even though your fingers playing with his hair felt heavenly. He felt his body relax, but there was so much on his mind, and not just what had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

“What letter were you talking about?” You felt his hot breath through the thin fabric of your shirt. His question made your hand still for a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“Last week… you asked me if I read the letter you left. What letter?”

You weren’t sure whether he was being serious right now or not, but you didn’t want to argue again. Not now, not here, because the situation was bad enough as it was.

“I wrote a long letter to you with my new address in NYC, because I’d finally gotten it. The morning we left, I went to your trailer early in the morning and placed the letter in front of your door.”

“There was no letter.”

“What?”

“I never got that letter, Y/N.” Eddie turned his head a little so that he could look at you in the darkness. “I remember it being really windy that morning.” Which was the only explanation. He’d been up even before Wayne had returned home - and Wayne never would have kept your letter from him.

“Fuck!” You couldn’t help but swear upon that realisation. For a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe, but Eddie picked up on that, squeezed your waist just to get your attention and it worked.

“You really thought I’d given up on you?”

“I…” you stuttered, tried to collect your thoughts. “I was hoping for years that I’d get a letter, but at one point, I just accepted it. I tried to call, but no call came through.”

“Yeah… we had to change our number.” Not a pleasant memory and one that had fucked up a lot apparently, considering you’d tried to call again and again. A series of coincidences that had led to the two of you not seeing or talking to each other for five years. But that wasn’t all…

“You know… I went to NYC to try and find you.” Eddie closed his eyes again, breathed in your scent that made him calm down a little more. In turn, you started lightly massaging his scalp, eyes firmly on him, because you couldn’t believe what he was telling you right now.

“I skipped school to come and find you all on my own. Wayne was absolutely furious, because he had no idea where I was.” He chuckled at the memory, because now, they could laugh about it, but back then, he’d apologised to his uncle more times than he could count. “I knew from your great aunt where you were going to school, so I just thought I’d surprise you.” His smile vanished again at the memory, jealousy still churning in his stomach. “And I did find you… but you were with this guy.”

“What guy?” Your heart was racing by now. What was he talking about? When exactly had that been?

“Taller than you, short blonde hair. He was wearing a Rangers jersey, wore two different shoes. And then he picked you up and twirled you around, and you laughed…” He could still see it right in front of his eyes. The way your eyes had crinkled up, the way your laugh had filled him with so much joy at first, because he’d heard it again after such a long time, but then the pain had set in because he hadn’t been the one to make you laugh.

You wracked your brain trying to figure out who he was talking about, and then it hit you.

“Eddie…” You would have laughed at the misinterpretation if it hadn’t been the reason for him to leave again without talking to you that day. You felt his thumb brush lightly over your waist, sending goosebumps across your skin. “That… was my cousin Jeff.”

“What?”

“Yeah… He often picked me up after school to show me around, or take me home with him so that I didn’t have to sit at home and sulk all the time. I really made it hard on my parents the first year or two.” Oh, they’d tried their best, but nobody had been able to replace Eddie, so they’d let you stay with Jeff. Your Dad had been pretty set on his opinion, he’d wanted to lock you up at home if you hadn't changed your attitude, but your Mum had stepped in, like she always had.

“Fuck,” he growled and pressed his face against your stomach, a couple more profanities falling from his lips. You knew how he felt, because you were going through this as well right now, your emotions all over the place, but you tried your best to focus on him, twirling a lock of his hair around your finger, before you scraped your fingernails over his scalp again. All of that was in the past and you couldn’t change a thing about it, but by now you knew that he hadn’t ignored your letter, while he’d found out that you hadn’t moved on from him that soon. There had been men in your life, but that had been a lot later.

“You should get some sleep,” you eventually said, making him groan again.

“How am I supposed to sleep now?” Eddie sighed against your stomach again, pushed his hand beneath you so that it lay between your back and the boat beneath you, resting it between your shoulder blades. “I just found out that I fucked up big time.” And he wasn’t talking about the whole ordeal that had happened here. He was talking about the two of you.

“We both did, okay?” Because you could have sent him a letter even if he hadn’t sent you one, but your pride had gotten in the way, and the possibility of getting your heart broken. “But we’re here now… I am here with you, okay? Let’s just focus on that instead of dwelling on the past.” You knew that it was easier said than done, but for the moment, there wasn’t anything you could do. It wasn’t like you could change the past anyway.

“You’ve got a point.”

“Of course I do.” You grinned to courself, letting your hand rest at the nape of his neck, your fingernails gently grazing over the skin there again and again, making him make a sound that was something between a low purr and a groan. “Just close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not,” he mumbled against your stomach again, his free hand that wasn’t trapped beneath your body coming up to take your hand that wasn’t at his neck, so that he could intertwine your fingers with his. His way of making sure that you were definitely not going anywhere, even though he knew that you stayed true to your word.

You watched him fall asleep, listened to his steady breathing, looking for any signs of nightmares, but there were none. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully right on top of you, and after a while, your eyes closed as well, and you were pulled into a deep sleep.

Tag-list: @violetpenguinkris @tellhound @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @spideyanakin-interacts @hardysbitch @angelzone @neverending-dreammm @bellamy-barnes @mygreygreenery @hanahisawizard @bambi-laufeyson @lonely-kermit @beepisbeep @haylaansmii @snapefiction @snekssss @jssmth5

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series, or Eddie stuff in general 💚

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader #staffi writes #hopefully the tags work this time

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lostinthewiind · 3 years

Text

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 1

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren't a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner's 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, I have planned this as a series/full story. I was torn between writing it on here or on Wattpad or something, but ultimately decided on Tumblr . . . but let me know if you would prefer it on another platform as well! Also, this series will eventually include smut/NSFW content but that will be tagged appropriately when the time comes. As always, I hope you enjoy.

Next →Part 2

Slamming the front door behind yourself on your way out that morning, you quickly stuffed your earbuds into your ears and cranked your music as loud as you could to drown out the sounds of your parents yelling after you and, consequently, at one another after you had dropped the bomb about your new job on them seconds before you had left, giving them as little time as possible to shame you for it.

After graduating high school and turning 18, you had decided it was time to take your life into your hands, which wasn’t too easy while you were still living under your parents’ roof, but you had to start somewhere and that somewhere was getting a job at the local corner store, Sakanoshita Market.

You knew that your parents wanted you to go to university and ‘make something of yourself’, but you also knew that you could never truly be happy under their dictatorship-like ruling, so you decided to get a job, no matter how shitty, save your money, move out as soon as possible, and go from there.

It was definitely going to be a process, and not an easy one, but all you had to do was take it one step at a time.

Rounding the corner and seeing the market in the distance, you felt your nerves begin to bubble inside of you a little. Sure, you had gotten some part-time jobs here and there during summer vacation before, but you had never gotten a full-time job before and had never needed the money from a job like you did now. Before, the cash you made was for extra spending money during the summer and school year, but now the money you would be making would be funding your future. It seemed like a lot of pressure to put on a job that entailed stocking shelves, checking out customers, and cleaning.

The lady who had hired you had basically explained that since she was getting older and her son, who had been maintaining the place previously, had gotten a new job, the store needed someone to learn the ropes and take care of the place on a daily basis; and since you were young, a fast learner, and didn’t have anything else in your life besides work, you were a perfect fit.

As the shop doors slid open smoothly to welcome you into the store you had been inside countless times in the past, you suddenly felt completely out of place in the familiar market. Now that you were an employee instead of a customer, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Instead of heading right for the fridges to grab a drink like you usually did, your eyes shifted immediately to the front counter where a figure with its feet up hid behind an open newspaper.

Just like every other time you had visited while the store owner’s son was working, he did everything humanly possible to avoid interaction. Usually, you would have appreciated not being bothered while trying to scan the shelves, but since this time was different, the lack of acknowledgement was slightly unnerving.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, hoping it was enough to catch his attention. It was not. Instead, he flipped the page of the newspaper and you watched as a hand emerged from behind the paper barrier to flick the ashes from his cigarette into an ashtray sitting beside the register.

Eyebrows furrowed, you really wished that the shop owner herself had been there to greet you for your first day instead of her seemingly useless son. “Hello.” You stepped up to the counter, the feeling of not belonging sinking deeper into your bones.

Slowly, the newspaper separating you from the man behind the counter lowered and the shop owner’s son glared back at you, eyes half-lidded as if he were seconds away from falling asleep and the cigarette from before hanging from his bottom lip. This was far from the first time you had interacted with him, but you would be surprised if he remembered you as a customer even a little. Whenever he checked customers out, you could tell he was running on autopilot.

The man’s eyes drifted down to your hands, which were resting on top of the counter now. Noticing you didn’t have anything to purchase, he cocked a brow. “Need help finding somethin’?”

“Ugh, no,” you answered. “I’m the new employee. I’m supposed to start today.”

His eyes scanned you once more, this time more thoroughly, and you swallowed hard. Feeling as if you were being observed under a microscope, you slid your hands off of the counter and stuffed them into your pockets self-consciously.

As he inspected you inch by inch, you took the time to take a closer look at him as well. With dyed blonde hair, two earrings in his left ear, an apparent nicotine addiction, and a noticeably flippant attitude toward his job, he was the definition of the type of man your parents would kill you for bringing home. Somehow, this only made him more intriguing. You wondered if he really was as disinterested in everything as he seemed or if it was just this job he thoroughly hated and became someone a lot more interesting when he wasn’t behind a counter.

“How old are you?” he asked out of the blue, catching you off guard a little. While he waited for you to answer, he set the newspaper to the side, dragged his feet from the counter top, and patted out some of the wrinkles from the white apron he had tied around his bright orange sweatshirt.

“I’m 18,” you responded, not sure why it mattered but also not seeing any harm in answering honestly.

Seconds later, the door to the back of the shop and storage room opened and the familiar face of the woman who had hired you stepped into view. “Oh, Y/N!” she greeted happily; much more enthusiastically and welcoming than her son. “Sorry about that, I was just getting some last minute things together.” She eyed her son out of the corner of her eye and noted the fresh embers in the ashtray. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, I just got here,” you told her.

“Good.” She smiled sweetly before turning to her son. “Well, you can head out now, Keishin. Thank you for watching the counter.”

“Yeah,” the man, Keishin, grunted as he untied the apron from around his waist, slipped it over his head, and hung it up on a hook behind the counter. “See ya.”

With that, Keishin left, leaving you and his mother alone. Wasting no time, Mrs. Sakanoshita, whom the store was named after, got right to work on teaching you the basics and gifting you with a white apron of your own to wear while on the job. Since it was the middle of the day and the customer flow was relatively slow, she introduced you to how the register and scanner at the counter worked before moving on to unpacking boxes.

Just like you had promised on your resume and during the interview, you were a quick learner and Mrs. Sakanoshita was more than pleased to see you picking up the job quickly and efficiently.

By the time the after work/school rush of patrons picking up items on their way home had begun, you were feeling confident in your abilities and, with your boss by your side to answer any questions you may have, you checked out customer after customer, building up muscle memory for scanning items, collecting cash, opening the register, handing out receipts, and sending customers on their merry way.

All in all, the job was quickly growing on you. You liked the fact that, for the most part, you were the only employee on duty, so when there weren’t any customers in the store, you could work silently on unpacking boxes without having to worry about making small talk or being friendly with any coworkers. In fact, as far as you knew, the only people who worked at the store at all were you, Mrs. Sakanoshita, and her son, Keishin.

It seemed as though you had really landed a sweet gig.

After showing you how to lock up, Mrs. Sakanoshita headed home for the night, leaving you to finish stocking the shelves and cleaning the shop before you would head home as well.

Now that you were truly the only person left, you walked over to the old radio you had spotted on the counter during training that day and fiddled with the dials, trying to get some music playing to accompany you during your evening chores. After some careful handiwork and enduring some horrendous static and high-pitched screeching while searching for a station, you settled on what sounded like some old instrumental music and got to work on stocking the remaining shelves.

Throughout your shift, you quickly learned that the store got quite warm during the day and you had needed to tie your hair up to keep the back of your neck from dripping with sweat. The night wasn’t much better either, especially since the lack of customers so late meant that the doors rarely opened, keeping the cold night air outside and the warm store air inside.

After finishing the last box of supplies, you exhaled and wiped your brow. You were exhausted, that was for sure, but you still had to sweep.

Deciding to take a quick break, you turned toward the floor-to-ceiling fridges at the back of the shop and pulled open the door, sighing happily when the cool air hit your skin. Exhaling slowly, you snickered when you saw your breath fog up in front of you face.

“You’re letting all the cold air out.”

You shrieked when you heard a voice in your right ear and slammed the fridge door shut, jumping back in the process. Thanks to the music from the radio and the loud hum of the generator that kept the fridges cold, you hadn’t heard the front doors slide open or the footsteps of Keishin approaching you.

“Jesus!” You clamped your hand over your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?”

Keishin glared at you. “You work here one day and suddenly act like you own the place?”

Realizing how rude your question had come across, you composed yourself and rephrased. “What I meant was, your mom didn’t say you were coming back.”

Pointing upward, Keishin sighed, disinterested. “I live in the apartment above the shop.”

“Oh.” Things started making much more sense and you suddenly felt pretty embarrassed for how you had reacted.

“Yeah . . . oh.” He rolled his eyes, but it didn’t come across necessarily rude but more like he was exhausted and you were adding to said exhaustion. “Why were you standing with the door open anyway?”

As he spoke, he stepped toward you. At first, your feet felt cemented to the floor and you didn’t move. But when he persisted closer, you eventually stumbled back and Keishin opened the fridge door you had been standing in front of to grab a beer from inside. With drink in hand, he eyed you once again, waiting for an answer.

“It’s really hot,” you said, gesturing to his orange sweater. “I don’t know how you wear that thing in here.”

Looking down at his apparel, he just shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He turned and started for the counter, presumably to pay for the drink he had just taken. “In the future, stand outside if you’re warm.”

“Okay.” You nodded, mindlessly tailing him. You had to grab the broom from behind the counter anyway, but that was the furthest thing from the front of your mind at that moment. If anything, you were still trying to calm down a little from being startled and now being alone with your boss’s son. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He popped the tab on the beer, settled into the stool behind the counter, and downed at least half of the drink in a few large gulps.

You watched him, probably a little too closely, and as you did you found yourself reexamining the features you had taken note of earlier that day: the dyed blonde hair held out of his face with a thin black headband, the natural brown hair that peeked out from the roots, the two small silver hoop earrings in his left ear, the scent of cigarette smoke that clung to him like how the smell of rain clung to the air after a heavy storm.

Noticing your gaze, which would have been nearly impossible to miss, Keishin quirked a brow at you and held out the can of beer toward you. “You want a sip?”

Startled from your thoughts, you shook your head. “I’m only 18.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He withdrew the can and took another sip, this one much smaller than the first few. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Eyes wide, you thought quick to come up with an excuse. “The broom.” You pointed to the item behind him. “Can you pass me the broom?”

After handing you the broom, Keishin pulled a slip of paper and a pen out from his pocket and started writing and scribbling things down, sipping the remainder of his beer occasionally and ignoring you completely.

Trying to avoid staring at Keishin anymore than you already had, you started sweeping at the far end of the store and left the area around and behind the counter for last. Eventually, though, you had worked your way back over to the the silent man and was forced to clean the floor behind where he was sitting, trying hard not to disturb him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of what he was so focused on; it looked like a crude drawing of a volleyball court. “What’s that?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you realized you were being rude again and snooping.

Keishin, however, didn’t seem angry or annoyed in the slightest. “Volleyball positions,” he huffed. It was clear he was growing frustrated.

“You play volleyball?”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “I used to. Now I coach the boy’s team at Karasuno.”

“I went to Karasuno,” you said mindlessly, just trying to make conversation at that point.

He hummed in response and turned his attention back to the sheet before him. “Did you play volleyball?”

“No. Soccer.”

“Do you still play?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still play volleyball?”

“With a neighbourhood association sometimes . . . but not really.”

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk, Keishin looked back to you once more. “I asked you first.”

“It’s not a good answer.” You leaned against the broom handle and sighed. “Don’t have the time.”

“You’re young and just graduated high school. You’ve got nothing but time.”

“Not with this job.”

Keishin scoffed, folded the paper, and shoved it back into his pocket with the pen. “Speaking of which, why would you take such a boring job at a store like this?”

You just shrugged. “I need the money.”

“Don’t you live with your parents?”

“That’s the problem,” you said, noticing the confusion on his face. “I told you it wasn’t a good answer.”

“Do they know you work here?”

“Do they know? Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Do they like it? Absolutely not.”

Keishin grinned at that before finishing his beer and tossing the empty can into the recycling bin beside the front door. “So you’re one of those teens, huh?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust me, kid, pissing off your parents just for the sake of it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You think I’m doing all this just because I can?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“That story’s too long and convoluted for me to recite right now . . . especially to some old dude I just met today.”

Keishin chuckled under his breath, hands stuffed into his pockets as he headed for the door at the back of the shop so he could head upstairs to his apartment. “’Old dude’,” he repeated, clearly amused. “Don’t forget to lock up before you go home.”

As he turned his back to you, your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Stopping in his tracks, Keishin pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his pants’ pocket along with a lighter. After placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. “Too old for you, sweetheart,” he spoke while exhaling, smoke spilling from his lips as he smirked at you.

With that, he disappeared into the back. You wanted to shout after him that you had told him how old you were without hesitation when he had asked, but you stayed silent instead.

As much as his presence unnerved you and his superiority complex aggravated you, you still found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Maybe it was because he seemed completely disinterested in you, or maybe it was because he was everything you were always told to stay away from.

The one thing you did know, however, was that if everyone around you was going to keep trying to convince you they knew how you should live your life better than you did, you were going to prove to them just how they wrong they were one way or another.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #lostinthewiind #fanfiction #fluff #eventual smut #ukai keishin #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine #song fic #ukai keishin x reader #ukai #keishin #smut #haikyuu smut

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goldenlaurelleaveswrites · 2 years

Text

Anarka’s Big Day

The Big Day (AO3)

Ooof. I did not mean to go so long between updates on this! I'm sorry for the wait everyone, and thank you so much for your patience!! 😅

A funny story about one of the reasons it took me song long to update this. I managed to misplace one of the scenes I had written for this! And before you ask me how someone misplaces a scene... I didn't write it in the document, but when I went to look for it I couldn't find it anywhere and I didn't remember where I had written it, just that I had written it.

I did finally find it though... written on the back of a receipt that was at the very bottom of my work bag. Oops. 😅

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

_______________________________________________

Soft guitar music floated through the room, light as a feather and as soft as summer skies. If it were anyone else playing, she wouldn’t understand how such a soft and gentle melody could communicate so much unbridled excitement. But it was her lad that was playing. That was all the answer she needed.

She looked up from the jewelry she had been fiddling with to look in the mirror. In the mirror with her own reflection was Luka’s as well. He was sitting on one of the leather poufs in the suite that had been designated as their place to get ready. His eyes were closed, and his sleeves were rolled up—Penny was going to have a fit over that when she got back from lecturing Jagged about whatever he needed to be lectured for—and his knee was bouncing. The only outward sign of his excitement.

She had never been married. She had never had any interest in ever being married. Her one true love was the sea and its songs, second only to her family. But if she were to get married—though that would never happen—she couldn’t imagine being so calm.

But then again, as much as he was her son, Luka was altogether different from her.

All Couffaines were cut from the same cloth. Couffaines were passionate people; everything they did, they did because they were fuelled by a need to do. To be. And all Couffaines were about expression. About being authentic.

There wasn’t a Couffaine who marched to the beat of someone else’s drum.

She and her children were cut from the same cloth all Couffaines were.

But somewhere between the warp and the weft, she and her son diverged.

She was a fire. Loud and roaring. Not to be contained. There was never a time when she didn’t say what she thought or act the way others wanted her to. She never let herself slide into the background.

Luka… Luka was music. He was there, and he made himself known. But if you didn’t know where and how to look for him, he would slide between your fingers. As strong as he was in his convictions, he was quiet and gentle in his passion. And unassuming in his voice.

She had never truly understood his desire to listen before being heard. She had never truly understood his willingness to let his heart go unread.

She had accepted him, supported him as best she could. But she didn't understand.

But Marinette did.

They were cut from the same cloth, but they had been fashioned into different things. She shook her head. Her new daughter was rubbing off on her. Since when had she understood the world through fabric instead of the tides and tunes?

She jumped at the sudden blaring of an alarm, pulling her from the depths of her thoughts. She wasn’t one to startle easily, but she had taken a deep dive into sentimentality. And if she was doing it, enough to get a tad misty ‘bout the eyes, who knew what kind of mess Tom would be?

Grumbling, she fumbled with the spare phone Penny had left in the room, armed with a barrage of alarms, before she had dragged Jagged out into the hall. She had said something about the alarms being ‘to keep all of you running on schedule.’

She had barely managed to turn off the first alarm when the second one started. She had always been impressed with the woman’s ability to wrangle Jagged. But she was thoroughly less impressed in being managed herself.

According to Penny’s schedule—so precise it would have put a drill sergeant to shame— they were supposed to be finished getting ready by now. Luka was still playing—she doubted he had even jumped at the sound of the alarms; the lad was so far off in la-la land—and Juleka wasn’t back from checking over the venue and checking in on Marinette and her parents, and the bridal party. And she still hadn’t finished getting ready herself.

She scowled down at the jewelry box in front of her. Penny had selected several beautiful sets of jewelry; coral earrings and a necklace, turquoise set in silver... the list went on.

Penny had told her to pick one set to wear. But when had she ever been one for rules?

It took all of a minute to pile on all of the jewelry. There. She was finished getting ready.

And since Penny wasn’t back yet, it seemed it was going to fall on her to get her son moving.

“Ye just about ready, lad?”

“I’ve been ready for eight years.” Now there was an understatement. She had been surprised the lad hadn’t been down on one knee the minute Marinette turned eighteen. But the small, near-insignificant, sensible part of her—that sounded an awful lot like Sabine—thought it was best they had waited.

“Not what I meant, lad. It’s almost time.”

“I know,” he said, making no move to put down his guitar or get up from his seat. But he did open his eyes. “I just need to get this song out.”

She looked at him, and she understood. She had recognized Marinette’s heart song as the song he had been playing. But she had also heard the familiar notes of the song he considered to be their family’s heart song. “Then maybe ye’d like some accompaniment? I’ve got te fiddle 'round here somewhere…”

“I’d like that, ma. I’d really like that.”

As she hunted for her fiddle, she heard one of the suite doors open and close. The accompanying silence was more than enough to tell her it was Juleka. Jagged wouldn’t know how to be silent if his life depended on it.

She turned around just in time to see Luka turn as red as her favourite guitar at something Juleka had whispered in his ear. She recognized the devilish gleam in her daughter’s eyes; she had seen it in her own reflection her entire life.

“None of you are ready?” She turned to see Jagged and a flabbergasted Penny standing in the doorway.

***

She was itching to go. She was not one for standing still and waiting. It was always the hardest part of performing, waiting for the cue to start the show.

Somehow, waiting for their cue to start the wedding procession and head down the aisle was even worse. The fact that Luka was almost vibrating with excitement didn't make it any easier to wait.

Seeing Luka like this, so far from his usual calm, she couldn’t help but think her view on what marriage could entail was shifting.

She used to think of marriage as a mooring. As something that fixed a ship in place.

But she was beginning to see that maybe that wasn’t necessarily true.

Marinette did provide Luka with a certain steadiness. But it didn’t come from her holding him in one place.

She was constant in her support of him.

She was the wind in his sails.

And she was perfectly happy to see Luka set sail towards such a bright future.

***

This was why they should have had the wedding on the Liberty!

She had always felt bad for him when he was growing up- anyone who had to spend more than ten minutes with old Agreste deserved pity in her books. But after everything he had done over the past few months…

If they were on the Liberty, Adrien would be walking the plank. Or being shot out of a cannon for pulling such a stunt. He had long ago lost the benefit of the doubt. And she wouldn’t give him the excuse of being a pirate; the boy was no pirate. And even if he was, pirates had a code of honour to follow.

And she couldn’t even do anything to remove the scoundrel from the room because Penny had thrown her arms out, holding her and Jagged in their seats. The woman was surprisingly and deceptively strong, given her slim frame.

But then again… it seemed she didn’t have to do anything.

Luka and Marinette had it under control.

It was rare to see Luka glare, especially with such intensity. But his eyes were like shards of ice, burning with cold fury, trained directly on Adrien.

And Marinette. Her voice was pure steel; each word she uttered seemed to hit Adrien like a cannonball to the face.

She smiled to herself as Adrien sat down before turning her attention back to the couple. As soon as their eyes caught each other, they had completely melted once again. As if the blond had never interrupted their moment.

***

The lad has spent months agonizing over the song. She had never seen the lad spend so much time on just one song. Not even when he was first trying to untangle Marinette’s heartsong. He had started working on it before he had even gotten down on one knee and popped the question.

She was fairly certain he had started working on it before he had even gotten Marinette a ring.

The song had gone through countless versions. And when he had finally seemed happy with it, there had been the recording sessions. She could count the number of times he recorded and re-recorded it. Not that she wanted to.

But all his hard work had paid off.

She didn’t believe in perfect. It was the exact opposite of her life motto. But watching them glide across the dance floor, carried by the melody of their two hearts beating in tandem, she was sure this was as close to perfect as was possible.

So, of course, there was trouble brewin’.

***

She ignored Adrien’s yowls and complaints as she hauled him out of the reception by the ear. Marinette might have invited him as a professional courtesy. But she didn’t have any reason to be professional or patient with the scoundrel. If they were on the Liberty—like she had suggested—he would be walking the plank. For a second time.

But unfortunately, she had been outvoted on the matter of the value and they were in a building and not on a boat.

So throwing him out would have to do.

She waved to Sabine as she passed by, indicating with her face that she would be back in time for dinner to be served. The serene smile on Sabine’s face as she led Tom away, even as Adrien called out to them, brought forth a hearty laugh from her chest.

It seemed the model hadn’t endeared himself to anyone tonight.

What he had been thinking, trying to cut in during the first dance—especially after the stunt he had pulled during the ceremony—was beyond her. But she wasn’t going to entertain any more Agreste nonsense.

“And don’t be comin’ back in!” she said as she hauled him out the door and into the cool, evening air.

“But-“

“Don’t be pushing’ yer luck wit’ me now, boy.”

***

Of all the bleedin’ foolish things to do! Jumping onto a folding table! And a folding table that had the croque-en-bouche on it to boot!

Penny had already given Jagged the look before stalking off, clutching her champagne flute like she was hanging onto it for dear life. It seemed Penny had given up.

But she was a Couffaine. And Couffaines never gave up—or never knew when to quit, depending on how you looked at it.

She stomped over to him and was about to give him the scolding of a lifetime. But then she saw the look on his face, a look and had never seen on his face before today, and she followed the direction of his gaze.

Her words died on her lips. And she couldn’t help but smile.

Luka and Marinette were both half out of their seats. As if they had been about to try and intervene in Jagged’s toast. But they must have caught each other’s eyes somehow because they were lost in each other again.

Fireworks could probably go off, and they wouldn’t notice.

But it was a good thing what she, Gina, and Juleka had planned wasn’t fireworks.

***

‘Plausible deniability' were the words Penny muttered as she strode off in the direction of the open bar. With no sign of her clipboard in sight.

Jagged looked towards Luka and Marinette—of course, she wasn’t worried about them. They were so wrapped up in their own little world she was surprised either of them had remembered to actually eat or greet their guests.

“You’re good, let’s go-“

“There is no chance yer comin’ with us. After that toast, we don’t need anything else going wrong.” And Jagged plus compressed air canisters had disaster written all over it. “And I’m not fool enough te get on Penny’s bad side. Besides,” she nodded down to Fang, who had flopped onto his back in a clear sign he wanted belly rubs, “ it seems someone be needin’ yer attention.”

She signalled for Gina and Juleka to follow her as Jagged flung himself to the ground in a flurry of smooches and baby talk. The bundles they had collected from Rose and Mylène were safely hidden out of sight as they made their way towards the doors.

***

“I’m sure it was nothin’ lass,” she said as they slunk back into the reception hall. The crowd had started to thin, but there were still enough guests around that no one would have noticed their temporary absence. And the guests who had left while they were putting the finishing touches on the surprise had given them a wide berth. So everything was set and ready.

Beside her, Juleka bit her lip. “I sure I saw something, ma.”

“It was probably just a shadow or the trick of the light,” Gina said. Juleka looked like she was about to protest, but Gine continued before she could. “We’d best get back into the thick of things. Don’t want to spoil the surprise!” Gina winked before sauntering off towards Tom.

“Go on, lass.” She nodded to where Rose was very obviously waiting for Juleka. With a sigh, her daughter slunk off, mumbling something about seeing something.

She caught sight of Sabine, sitting alone at an empty table, and started making her way over.

“I’m glad te call her me daughter,” she said as she settled herself into one of the empty chairs beside Sabine, following the other woman’s gaze to where Luka and Marinette were still dancing. Still as lost in each other’s eyes as they had been when Marinette took her first step down the aisle.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

They sat there together, watching their children dance. She had meant what she said. She was glad she could call Marinette her daughter.

Marinette was generous in every meaning of the word. She was generous with her time, her talents, her skills. Her love.

And Luka had flourished under the love Marinette showered upon him; he was still quiet and laid back. He always would be. That was who he was. But he was no longer afraid to step into the spotlight and shine when he wanted or needed to. He never held himself back anymore.

And she knew Marinette was the wind in his sails that had sent him in that direction.

The last notes of the song hung in the air as the couple started making their way towards the doors. Their fingers still tangled together as they waved their goodbyes as they headed towards the doors.

And…

“Ye think they’ll like the surprise?”

#endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #lukanette #anarka couffaine #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #jagged stone #juleka couffaine #penny rolling #sabine cheng #tom dupain #fang #the big day

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mercur1e · 3 years

Note

Saw your Father’s Day post and I knew I had to ask for it:

Dilf!Jean x Teacher!Black reader fic

I’ll let you pick whether it’s sfw or nsfw, I just need some Jean content rn😌

YES OML

Contains: Modern AU, female anatomy but no pronouns

Jean has had his eye on you for a while now. You're his kid's teacher, he know he shouldn't be feeling this way. But he can't help it. You're so kind and beautiful. You're great with the kids, and always patient with them. And god, your smile. That pretty, pretty smile. When he dropped Julia off at the first day of school, you had smiled and introduced yourself. Nothing unusual, it's just common courtesy. So why was he acting like a teenager in love all over again? He brushed it off thinking it was just because he hasn't dated in a while. Ever since his divorce he hasn't really been interested in dating.

Everytime Jean would pick up his child he made small talk with you. About his daughter, about your jobs, anything that would get you to talk to him. Jean would subtly compliment you, telling you that you look pretty or that a color looks good on you. Hell, he pointed out when you changed your hair up for a day, even if it wasnt anything major. Every once in a while he would lightly flirt with you, questioning how you're single and asking if you have a s/o. You'd always reply that you haven't been interested in anyone around here.

And it wasn't one sided, no. You'd glance at him when (you thought) he wasn't looking, looking as handsome as ever. His slicked back hair and style would make anyone swoon. A million dollar smile, great personality, and he was a good father? You wanted to be with him, you really did. But as a teacher you know you shouldn't. But the school year is almost out, you wish he would make a move.

Today was just like any other day, Jean came to pick up his kid and he was making small talk with you. Talking to you about your plans for the summer, and where you would like to go. Meanwhile Jean was was worrying about how to ask you out. "Do I just say it? Do I slip it in? Shit. Fuck it I'll just say it."

As you were talking about your summer plans, Jean interrupted you. "I..I was wondering if I can take you out on a date? If not I'm sorry that-"

"I've been waiting for you to say that." A smile forms on your lips. "I thought I'd become a corspe before you asked me out!" You poke in a joking manner.

Jean chuckled at you. "Well how about as an apology for making you wait so long, I take you out to dinner tonight?" He says while smiling at you. God, he's got a nice smile.

"I would love that. Is 7 o'clock good for you?" You ask Jean while writing your number on a slip of paper and handing it to him.

"Works for me. It won't be hard finding a babysitter for Julia for the night. I'll see you then sweetheart."

The rest of the school day went by fast. Happy to be home, you search through you closet to find something to wear. After digging in your closet you found your perfect outfit. Putting it on and standing infront the mirror you looked damn good in it. Going into the bathroom to finish up your hair and getting the look you wanted, you were almost done. Now you just had to find the right fragrance and any other additions. And with that, you were ready for your date. Hearing a knock on your door, you go to answer it.

You're met with Jean, looking as handsome as ever. He has on a dress shirt with some slacks, paired with a nice watch and shoes. Eyeing you up and down, he shoots you a smirk.

"You look amazing."

"And you look handsome, which is a shocker for you." You play, he knows he looks even on his worst days.

Jean guffawed at your comment. "Uh huh, like I don't notice you checking me out almost everyday at school."

Locking your door behind you, you two begin walking towards his car. "Guess I'm not as sneaky as I thought."

"Nope, you're shit and trying to be sneaky."

"Oh shut up!" You giggled as you slapped his arm lightly. He opens the car door for you and you get in.

"So, where are we going?" You ask once he gets in the car.

"It's a surprise, but I think you'll like it when we get there."

As he was driving, you two talked and joked together. It wasn't a very long ride, maybe about 15-20 minutes until you arrived to the destination. It was a popular steakhouse that had recently opened up, and it wasn't cheap either.

"I've always wanted to go here, I've heard good things about this place." Looking around the parking lot, you could tell it wasn't a super busy night but they had business, that's good.

"Me too. I've heard good things about the place and its owned by a local chef." Holding out his hand to you, you take it as you're getting out of the car. To his pleasant surprise, you hold on to his hand until you two are seated at the table he reserved. The rest of the date went wonderfully, you both thoroughly enjoyed dinner and had fun getting to know each other more. And of course taking playful jabs at each other and eating dessert.

Pulling up in front of your house, Jean helps you out the car and walks you to your front door.

"I really enjoyed tonight, I loved every bit of it. Thank you for treating me to dinner."

"Of course." Jean replies, secretly hoping you'd you'd kiss him.

You two sat in silence for a few minutes until you looked him in the eye. His eyes were shining, hoping that you'd make a move. Finally, you broke the silence.

"Can I kiss you-" You didn't even finish your sentence before his lips landed on yours. He pulled back though, the kiss ending as quick as it started. You kissed him again. And again, until it turned into a full blown makeout session. "Do you want to go inside?" You asked once you finally caught your breath. Jean nodded at you, eyes now clouded with need. Opening your door, you barely have time to register what happened. Jean's got you pressed against your door, lips back on yours. Running your hands through his hair you let his tongue roam your mouth. He sucks on your tongue while trying to take your clothes off. "Mm, not here, my bedroom." While hurrying towards your bedroom, articles of clothing litter your hallway as you both rush to take off your clothes. After you get into the bedroom Jean motions for you to lay on the bed.

Laying between your legs, he leaves kisses on your navel and thighs, avoiding where you need him the most. Taking a long finger and swiping up your slit, he feels just how wet you are for him.

"Fuck, I've been waiting to do this for so long."

You hum in agreement. "Me too, I've wanted you for so long"

Licking a stripe up your pussy, you shiver under him. He kitten licks your clit before sticking a long finger into you. Your vagina clenches around the digit, adjusting to it after a minute.

"Another" you mewl, wanting more of him. He listens, putting his index finger in. He moves his fingers in a scissoring motion, loving the way you feel around him. His fingers are coated with your juices, creating a wet sound every time he thrusted them into you. Sucking on your clit, you moan and twitch under him. He speeds his fingers up, and starts sucking at your clit more harshly.

"Ah! Ah! M' gonna cum!"

"That's right, come for me baby. Cum all over my fingers."

Your body shivers from your orgasm as your hole convulses around Jean's fingers, creaming around him. He takes his fingers out of you, and you whine at the loss. He takes his fingers up to his mouth and sucks on them.

"You tatse so good baby. So good for me. Can't wait to have you screaming for me."

He looks so hot like this. Hair disheveled and out of place, lust filled eyes just waiting to devour you. He takes his dick and strokes it a few times before pushing your legs against your chest. He lines himself up at your entrance, and slowly pushes in. It stings at first, he's so big. You already feel full, before you look down and see that you've only taken half of him. Jean slowly eases the rest of himself into you, before he's finally buried to the hilt. You swear you can feel him in your throat.

"Y-you can move baby, I can take it."

Jean smirks at you. "You sure?"

"Mhm..keep going."

Once Jean knew you were okay he started roughly thrusting into you. Leaning down to suck at your nipples, your hand grabbed at his hair. Tugging lightly at it, you wrangled a low groan out of the man above you. He can tell you're close because your moans are getting louder and he can feel you tightening around his dick.

"You gonna cum for me baby? Want me to fill you up?"

"Mm Mhm!"

"Say it."

"Cum in my Jean, please!"

He smirked. "Anything you want baby."

Slamming his hips into you, Jean's abusing your poor g-spot at this point. He flips you over so you're face down ass up and you can tell he's close too by the way his dick is twitching inside of you.

"Fuck! Fuck! I'm cummimg, I'm cumming-"

"That's it baby, come all over me."

Jean doesn't let up even after you've come. Your overstimulated pussy fills the room with sloppy noises. Jean gives a few more rough thrusts before coming inside of you. You both simultaneously groan out, you feel even fuller than before. He pulls out of you, feeling a sense of pride as he watches some of his cum drip out of your pussy.

Rolling over onto your back, you gaze up at Jean. A fucked out grin makes its way onto your face. Jean smiles back down at you before he lays down onto your chest.

"Is it selfish if I say I don't want this to end?" He mumbles in between the valley of your breats.

"Mm no. Because I don't want it to end either. I really like you Jean, I mean it." Your hand runs through his hair, its original style long gone.

"I really like you too, you think we could make something outta this? Maybe even a relationship?"

You giggle. "Is this your way of asking me to be your s/o?"

"Yeah...pretty shitty way huh?" Jean let's out a small laugh.

"Hmm yes, but I accept. I'll be your s/o."

"Guess it's not stupid if it works hm?" Jean leans up to plant a kiss against your lips.

"Oh shut up you!"

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE THIS DONE YESTERDAY BUT I FEEL ASLEEP! Anyways I hoped you liked it! Thank you for requesting and feedback is appreciated!! Have a good day! <33

This is my original work. Do not steal, repost, or copy my works. All works on this belong to @c00chi

#jean kirschtein smut #aot x black!reader #aot x poc!reader #aot x reader #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirstein x black reader #jean kirstein x poc!reader #jean kirsten smut

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pretendingboyfriends · 3 years

Text

A/N: ok WOW first off, i’m so sorry i literally haven’t posted since december. these past few months have been so wild what with new classes and my mental health declining. i can’t promise the last few parts of this lil series will come at a timely manner just because my mental state can be very unpredictable, but i will try my best to get them out as fast as i can, especially when summer is right around the corner. i wanna thank @thestyleswritings and @friendlyneighborhood-mendes for being my lovely beta readers. as i’ve said before, my writing is nothing without betas so thank u for taking the time to review my piece and give me honest feedback. anyways, i made this part extra long for you guys and i really really hope you love it. <3

Warnings: explicit language, panic attack, anxiety, deidre being a megacunt (as always), smut

Word count: 9.3k+

previous part . fic masterlist . fic playlist . taglist

It’s been a few days since your first date with Harry, the two weeks you’ve planned to spend at the beach feeling far too short as each day passes like a whirlwind. And over these days, you’ve found that getting comfortable with him is an easier feat than you’d initially imagined. Moments with him are hardly fleeting. You find yourself spending most of your time with him, whether it be going for a swim on the beach or sneaking off somewhere in the house to make out. If this were anyone else, you’d feel suffocated spending so much time with them, but with Harry it’s so much different. You can’t keep yourself away from him, even if you try, and you’re beginning to think that the feeling is quite mutual for Harry as well.

The air is humid and warm, a quaint breeze sifting through the leaves of the palm trees that surround the pool’s fence, finding its way to where the three of you lounge. The kiss of the sun blesses your exposed skin as you and Deidre lie side by side on the poolside chairs. You've lost count of how many hours the three of you have spent in the afternoon sun, but, as hot as it is, you're thoroughly enjoying every moment spent actually being with Deidre for once. Even if you aren't actually doing anything but lying in the sun, just the fact that she's spending time with you for longer than an hour makes you happy.

Your eyes scan each line of the book in your hands, allowing your brain to paint a picture of each image as best as it can. Deidre snores quietly beside you, arms draped over her face to shield her eyes from the blinding light and Harry splashes around quietly in the pool, occasionally pulling himself under for a few moments before coming back to the surface for air again.

As you turn the page of your book, the sudden splashing of water fills your ears before several cold droplets hit your warm skin. It immediately draws your attention away from your book and up to where Harry stands in front of your chair.

"Hi," You muse, pulling your legs up to curl beneath you.

"Hi back," He smiles as he pushes his fingers through his long, dripping wet hair.

You pluck your sunglasses from your nose and gingerly place them on the top of your head so that you can get a better look at him. "Need something?"

"Could you grab me a Coke from the cooler, please?" He asks, yanking his towel from the edge of his own chair and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Yeah, sure." You nod, sliding a bookmark into the spine of your book and placing it beside you on the chair before reaching into the cooler next to you for an unopened can. The chilled perspiration dripping down the aluminum can causes a chill to travel up your spine as soon as your fingertips make contact with it. You reach forward to place it into Harry's hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment.

He mutters a quick 'thanks' before cracking it open and lifting it to his lips. As he does this, you're given an opportunity to allow your gaze to fall down the rest of his body. His tanned skin glistens delicately in the sunlight, each droplet of water illuminated like tiny specks of glitter all along his chest and arms. The dark ink that litters his skin has somehow become a shade darker as well, each detail becoming more apparent to your eye the longer you study the expanse of his chest and shoulders.

"Enjoying the view?" Harry hums, very obviously amused by your mindless ogling.

You clear your throat, feigning innocence as you internally burst into flames of embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about." (Luckily, Deidre is still snoring peacefully beside you, completely oblivious to the flirtatious comments being thrown back and forth between you and Harry.)

He chuckles, sipping his drink one last time before placing it on the ground by his chair. "Are you sure you don't want to come join me for a bit?" He motions back to the pool as he drops the towel back on the chair.

"I think I'm alright staying here," You hum, tilting your head to the side as you gaze up at him. "I'm quite enjoying my book." You sigh, picking your book back up and waving it in the air to show him.

He sighs in disappointment, shaking his head. "That's a shame. The water feels fantastic."

You watch him turn back towards the pool, admiring the way the muscles in his back flex with his every move. He crouches down at the edge of the water, placing one hand on the cement as he slings himself into the pool, water splashing all around him. He swivels around in the water so that he's facing you again, his eyes trained on yours with a mischievous look on his face. You squint in suspicion, tilting your head to the side. "What are you doing?"

"Nothin'." He shrugs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He continues to wade out a little further and you roll your eyes at him, turning your attention away from him and back to your book.

There are a few moments of silence in the air as you're pulled back into the imagery of the book, paying no mind to whatever mischief Harry is up to in the pool. But then, before you have even a second to process what's happening, cold water splashes up onto your legs, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as the book slips out of your grasp.

"Harry!" You screech, sitting up on your chair to scold him. He's standing in the water at the edge of the pool with an evil smile spread across his face, his hands scooping up the water and splashing it up in your direction. The mixture of your screeching and the cold water reaching her side of the pavement, causes Deidre to wake from her slumber, scrambling up into a sitting position.

"Harry, what the fuck!?" She screams from beside you, grabbing her sandal from the ground and hurling it in his direction. He cackles dramatically as he dodges the shoe by swiftly slipping beneath the surface of the water. The shoe falls into the water behind him with a loud 'PLUNK' and then resurfaces, floating aimlessly.

He rises back to the surface within a few seconds, chuckling as he pushes the sopping wet hair out of his face. "Sorry, did I get ya?"

Deidre scoffs, angrily wiping the water droplets from her legs with her towel. "I was having such a good nap and you ruined it."

"Oh, come on," He rolls his eyes, dragging out the 'n' with a teasing lilt. "I was just playin' around. It's gettin' kinda boring being in here all alone."

She lies back against the chair exactly like she had been before, draping her arm over her eyes once again. "Suck it up."

Harry wades back to the side of the pool, folding his arms against the warm cement and leaning his chin against them with a pout on his lips. "Pretty please?"

Before either you or Deidre even has a moment to respond, Deidre's phone begins to sing loudly with the sound of her ringtone. She pats her hand around the chair for her phone for a few moments, not bothering to lift her arm from her eyes to look for it. She finally grasps it, sliding her thumb across the bottom of the screen and lifting it to her ear.

"Hello?... oh, hey, what's up?" She speaks to the person on the other end, finally lifting her arm from her eyes so that she can sit up on the chair. "Yeah, I'd love to! I can be there in, like-" she pauses to glance at the time on her phone. "10 minutes?" Another pause. "Okay, sounds good, see you there!" She lifts the phone from her ear, tapping the screen once to end the call before quickly standing up from the chair.

"Who was that?" You ask, tilting your head at her in curiosity, though you sense that you already know the answer.

"That was Jeff and the rest of the gang. They invited me to mini golf with them," Deidre replies, folding her towel over her arm and picking her sandal up from the ground. "You can come along, if you want."

Immediately, you feel your mood begin to plummet as you watch her get ready to leave, barely even giving you a second glance as she retrieves her sandal from the water. You know she's not doing it on purpose, but it's hard not to feel hurt by her inability to spend even so much as a day with you.

"That's okay," You respond, trying to mask the shakiness of your voice with a cheerful lilt. "Have fun, though."

"Okay, well, I'll see you guys later!" She smiles, waving back to both of you as she turns on her heel and bounds up the porch stairs.

After the sound of the back door swinging shut fills your ears, you glance over in Harry's direction to find that he's watching you intently. His playful expression from just a few moments ago is exchanged with a concerned frown. You sigh, picking your book back up in hopes of finding a distraction from the sinking feeling deep in your stomach, but Harry has other plans.

A fleeting, silent moment passes before Harry decides to speak.

"Hey,"

The sound of his voice pulls your attention away from the book in your hands, forcing you to move it from in front of your face so that you can look at him. "Hi," you make eye contact with him, finding that he's still in the same position from before, arms folded on the pavement as his chin rests against them.

"You alright?" He questions, tilting his head to the side as he watches you.

You shake your head a little, glancing down at the book in your lap. "It's fine. I don't really know what I was expecting, she's been doing this for the past week and a half. I shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

He's silent for a moment, gazing at you thoughtfully as he thinks of what he's going to say in response. "You really should join me in here. It'll help you get your mind off things."

You hesitate, rubbing the back of your neck with the palm of your hand as you mull over his proposition. It'd be nice to have a distraction from the nagging feeling of betrayal deep within your chest, and you know Harry will do anything in his power to make sure you feel better. After a silent debate with yourself on whether or not you really want to join him, you push yourself up from the chair, muttering a quiet affirmation before slowly padding over to the edge of the pool.

You crouch down, moving to sit on the warm pavement as your legs hang over the edge and dip into the cool, clear water. Harry pushes himself off from the wall, spinning himself around 360 degrees.

"Come onnnn," He sings, wading closer to you. "Come swim with me."

You scrunch your nose, kicking your legs in the water and staring down at the way the water splashes up into the air. "Gimme a minute to get used to the water, jeez." You scoff, kicking a bit of water in his direction.

He rolls his eyes, wading closer to you so that you can feel his warm breath against your knees and the current his kicking feet create beneath you. "That's an excuse if I've ever heard one," his fingers curl around your right ankle, giving you another mischievous smile identical to the one he gave you earlier.

"What are you doing?" You squint your eyes at him, cautiously tugging your leg against his grip.

"M'helpin' you get in," he hums nonchalantly. "Seems like you need a bit of coaxing."

A small smile breaks across your face and you roll your eyes, placing your hands on the pavement behind you and leaning back against them. "I'm quite comfortable right here, actually."

"Alright, then you leave me no other choice..." Before you can even process what he's saying, he's grabbing your other ankle and yanking you into the water in one quick movement. The water splashes around you, engulfing you beneath the surface and immediately soaking into your bathing suit.

You resurface, sputtering and choking on the water as you rub the chlorine from your burning eyes. "I hate you so much right now," You huff, dropping your hands and squinting up at him. He's wearing an mischievous smile, fully content with his successful attempt of getting you into the pool.

"It's really not that bad," he rolls his eyes, wading further away from you. "You'll get used to it."

You glare at him, shoving your hands forward beneath the water to splash him directly in the face, but he merely laughs and swiftly wipes the droplets from his eyes like it's nothing. You watch as he slinks towards the very edge of the pool several feet away from you, turning back to face you before grabbing a small, foam ball floating on the surface. He tosses it in your direction, watching it land directly in front of you, splashing the water gently.

"C'mon, toss it back to me,"

You take the ball into your hand, squinting up at him. "Is this your idea of fun?"

He shrugs. "Got any other ideas?"

At that, you roll your eyes and reluctantly hurl the ball back into his direction. He catches it swiftly with both hands, tossing it up into the air a few times as he contemplates his next move.

“Oh, my god,” you groan, rolling your head back onto your shoulders in dramatic exaggeration. “I’m not doing this.” You turn to wade towards the side of the pool.

“No, wait!” He calls, immediately running (more like bobbing) through the water towards you as fast as he can.

You ignore his call and start to climb the side of the pool, but he catches you before you can fully climb out, curling an arm around your waist and tugging you back against him.

“Please,” he mutters, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck. “I know you’re upset, but I just wanna help you get your mind off things.”

You sigh, reluctantly dropping your hands from the edge of the pavement. You’re silent for a moment as he rests his chin against your shoulder, small puffs of air hitting your damp skin.

“I really thought she was going to try to spend time with me today,” you whisper, turning in his arms to face him. “She didn’t tell me she wouldn’t do it again, though, so I guess I’m the only one to blame.”

He frowns at that, shaking his head. “Don’t blame y’self for any of this. You had expectations for this trip and she completely obliterated them.”

Jutting your bottom lip into a pout, you avoid making eye contact with him. You know he’s right. She promised you she’d spend the trip with you, just you, but she’s almost done everything in her power to do the opposite.

Harry leans forward, pecking your pouted lips gently. He starts to pull away, but you want more so you lock your arms around his neck and he takes that as an invitation to continue, pecking your lips in quick intervals. Even though you’d only just begun to show affection towards each other in this short period of time, it feels like you’ve been together for years. Everything is just so easy with him. It helps that you grew up with each other, but your interactions were so scarce over the years that you didn’t even feel like you really knew him until this trip.

As you’re opening your mouth ever so slightly for him to stroke his tongue over your bottom lip, the feeling of his fingers creeping along your waist has you chuckling nervously. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothin’...” He hums, hooded eyes gazing into yours as he traces his fingertips up against your sides. He leans in for another kiss with a lazy smirk on his lips and you hesitantly grant him one, wary of his wandering hands.

Suddenly, his hands aren’t so gentle anymore and the seemingly harmless pressure of his fingers has turned into almost painful tickling. You throw your head back against your shoulders with a cackle, pressing your palms into his chest in an attempt to push him away but he doesn’t budge. The vicious assault of his fingers draws giggle after giggle from your lips with the occasionally squeal of frustration as you squirm in his unyielding hold.

“I. Hate. You.” You grunt between each word, smacking your hands against his biceps, chest, and shoulders playfully.

Finally, you’re able to tear away from him, nearly diving into the water to get away from him, but he’s faster than you and within moments he has a large, tattooed arm curled around your waist once again. You scream out in frustration, kicking your legs in the water and causing it to splash out in front of you nearly six feet into the air.

“You can’t escape that easy,” he chuckles into your ear, continuing his assault on your poor midsection as you whimper and struggle limply.

Suddenly, a loud rumble of thunder pulls your attention from Harry’s abuse and up to the sky. You've been so distracted by Harry’s stabbing fingers that you hadn't seen the dark cumulonimbus' gathering directly above you in the sky, uttering low groans of warning to anyone near. It begins as small, harmless droplets, but quickly blossoms into a violent downpour, pounding into the surface of the water.

“Fuck!” You screech as you scramble to get out of the pool. Harry is taking his time, though, laughing at the way you’re panicking. “Do you want to get struck by lightning?!” You yell to him, yanking your towel and book from the chair you were lying in before.

He laughs at you, climbing out of the pool and standing by the edge briefly so that he can wipe the moisture from his eyes. The sight of him standing there in nothing but a tight, wet pair of swimming trunks, nearly causes your mouth to water. If it weren’t for the raging thunderstorm pelting you and everything around it, you’d take a few moments just to soak in the view, but you have no time for that.

You bound up the stairs leading to the back porch, holding your book and towel close to your chest to keep them from getting any wetter than they already are. Harry soon follows with his own belongings, giggling playfully like a little boy as the screen door slams behind him.

“Shit- that came out of nowhere!” He chokes, pushing his hand through the sopping curls sprouting from his head and framing his beautiful face.

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle as you toss your towel to the side and yank the sliding door open so that you can step inside. Harry tosses his own towel over a porch chair before he follows you inside, sliding the door closed behind him. The contrast of the roaring sound of the storm outside compared to the silence inside the house is almost deafening. Both of you are wet and shivering on the carpeted floor, looking shamelessly like a pair of greasy rats.

Both of you shower (separately) and change into more comfortable, dry attire, soon finding yourselves in the kitchen scavenging for something to eat.

“Y’know what I’m really craving right now?” Harry asks, standing in front of the open refrigerator.

“What?” You reply, popping a grape into your mouth as you lean back against the counter.

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

You pause for a moment, contemplating the prospect of freshly baked cookies melting in your mouth. “Now that you mention it, I'm really craving some as well."

"I think it's something in the water." He hums sarcastically, scrunching his nose to emphasize the sarcasm.

“Perhaps,” you hum in response, a smile itching to spread across your lips.

"Alright then, let's do it!" Harry says, pushing himself away from the counter. "Let's make chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! Come on, we've got nowhere else to be. This will give us something to pass the time!"

Soon, you find yourself hip to hip with Harry at the kitchen counter, a large spread of every required ingredient to make chocolate chip cookies laid out in front of you. You'd found a few old aprons in the back of the pantry and of course you'd both thrown them on to make the experience as authentic as possible.

Harry's apron of choice is a bright yellow number with tacky, purple frills lining the edges and the words "Grandma's Kitchen" stitched across the breast in that same purple color-all you can do is giggle at the sight of him. Yours, however, is nearly the opposite of his; a plain white piece with a pattern of small, black flowers.

Harry frowns at you when you begin to laugh at the sight of him in the apron. "What?? You don't like it?" He huffs, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, no-" you snort, attempting to hold in the cackle itching to escape your throat. "It's great, I love it. Really suits you."

He smiles to himself, turning to the counter. "Thank you, I think it's quite tasteful as well."

You notice that he's pulled his hair up into a bun, so you're able to admire his face in the close proximity. He really is handsome, you think. His eyes are shockingly vibrant - piercing yet kind all at the same time. When he smiles, the very edges of his eyes crinkle as if they're smiling with him and it's getting harder for you to keep yourself from getting lost in them. You'd always found him attractive like that, but within the past week and a half you've gained a different, more meaningful attraction to him. He isn't just your childhood crush anymore - he's Harry. Harry, the boy who remembers how you take your coffee; Harry, the boy who takes you out to coffee and bookstores and proceeds to buy you nearly half the store without you even knowing; Harry, the boy that would rather spend his entire vacation with you when he could easily spend it partying with a new girl every night.

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle, turning back to the counter before looking down at the recipe shown on your phone screen. "So..." you begin, scanning over the first few steps on your screen. "First, we need to combine all the dry ingredients into one bowl and then combine all the wet ingredients in another bowl."

"Alright," Harry hums through a nod, selecting all the dry ingredients from the layout in front of you and collecting them into his corner. "I'll mix the dry ingredients."

You acknowledge him with a quiet murmur before you continue to scan the list of instructions. As you do so, your vision begins to blur slightly. You ignore it at first, hoping it goes away, but when it doesn't, you're forced to blink a few times in an attempt to clear it. Your attempts are in vain, however, because your vision does not improve. Nevertheless, you choose to ignore it in hopes that it will go away on its own.

As you begin to crack eggs; scoop perfectly measured cups of sugar; and combine softened butter all together into a bowl, a slight wave of light-headedness overwhelms you. It's unexpected, so you place the bowl on the counter, sliding it away from you slightly so that you can grip the edge of the counter to stabilize yourself.

Harry seems to notice the shift in your behavior, nudging your arm gently with his elbow to grab your attention. "Is everything alright? Y'look a bit flustered,"

Before you're able to respond, your heart rate suddenly and noticeably begins to increase as well, causing your breathing to become more labored and frantic. You shake your head, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles are white, head hung on your shoulders as you attempt to catch your breath. "I think I'm- I think I'm having a panic attack,"

You sense him moving closer to you, a warm palm pressed against your back in a soothing manner. "Can I- What can I do to help?"

"I just- I need to sit down," You mutter between breaths, turning slightly to slide down the cabinets and onto the floor with your hand still firmly placed against your chest. A slight numbness begins to form around your nose and your hands begin to shake uncontrollably as you crumple onto the kitchen floor.

Harry follows quickly, moving to sit directly in front of you and gently taking both your hands into his own. "Can you try to breathe a bit slower for me?" He mutters, rubbing his thumbs against your knuckles soothingly. "Maybe in through your nose and out through your mouth?"

You nod to him, taking deep breaths in through your nose and then breathing out through your mouth just like he'd instructed. The feeling of his thumbs rubbing against your skin so gently helps to ground you in the moment, although the feeling of panic and anxiety still rages through your veins. Just his presence alone gives you a level of comfort, but it isn't enough to obliterate the numbness in your face and the hot tears gliding effortlessly down your cheeks.

You don't know how much time passes, but eventually your breathing has gone back to normal and you're left exhausted and still shaking.

"Are you feeling better?" He hums, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles as he gazes up at you with the same concerned expression he'd been sporting as soon as your episode began.

"Yeah- Yes," You stutter in response, leaning your head back against the wooden cabinets. "Fuck, I don't even know where that came from, I'm sorry."

"No, please, don't apologize. Just wanna make sure you're alright,"

You give him a weak smile. "I'm pretty exhausted, but I'll be okay after lying down for a bit or taking a nap."

"Yeah? Need me to help you up or do you want to sit here for a while longer?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he smiles back at you.

"Do you think you could get me some water, please?"

"Of course," He nods, immediately standing up in front of you to grab a fresh glass from one of the upper cabinets and fill it with water before kneeling back down to place it into your trembling hands. "There you are, babe."

You smile up at him. "Thank you."

He smiles back as if to say "you're welcome" as he gently rubs his knuckles against your arm to give you some form of comfort.

It takes nearly 10 minutes for you to gather your bearings on reality again, but having Harry there helps so much more than if you were experiencing this alone. He watches you intently the entire time, hyper aware of every breath you take like he's afraid you'll fall apart in front of his eyes, and all you want to do is reach up and smooth out the deep creases between his eyebrows.

"Could you help me up now?" You croak, squeezing his hand gently.

"Yeah- yes, of course." He scrambles to securely wrap an arm around your waist, his other hand still clutching one of yours as he lifts you from the kitchen floor. Once you're fully stabilized on both of your feet, you look at Harry, hands resting on his shoulders as he cups his hands around both your elbows, searching your face frantically for any sign of distress. "You alright?"

You nod, giving him a weak smile and sliding your arms up around his neck to pull him in for a hug. His arms immediately fall to wrap around your waist, pressing your body into his in a warm, comforting embrace.

"Sorry I couldn't finish making the cookies with you," You mutter into his ear, pressing your face into his neck.

"S'alright, I can manage on my own." He replies, rubbing his hand up and down the length of your back. He can feel the erratic thudding of your heart against his chest, your slow, shaky breaths fanning directly over his ear simultaneously. His heart aches.

After you take yourself back to your bedroom to rest, Harry finishes the cookies by himself. Due to his previous baking experience, the task is a breeze, but during the time he spends mixing and preparing the cookies, all he can think about is how angry he is with Deidre. He'd seen her, time and time again, take advantage of your kindness without a single thought as to how it might make you feel. She's selfish, and you're far too good for her. Deidre doesn't deserve to call you her best friend.

Just as he begins to pull the steaming, golden cookies from the oven, the sound of the front door swinging open from behind him catches his ear. Deidre stumbles in from the pouring rain, fumbling around as she removes her sandals and tosses her tote bag to the floor next to them.

He pokes his head into the living room to look at her. She's almost completely soaked-- her long, dark hair is sopping wet, clumping together in thick strands, and her thin cover-dress is soaked completely through, sticking to her figure like a glove. He hadn't even noticed it's been raining this entire time.

"Hey! Mini golfing got cut short 'cause of the rain." She smiles, pushing her hair out of her face as she looks at him.

He responds with a low grunt, stepping back into the kitchen without a single word. Her peppiness annoys him.

"Did you bake something?" She continues, sauntering into the kitchen. "Smells fantastic!"

"Chocolate chip cookies," he replies bluntly as he wipes the counter down with a damp towel.

"Can I have one?"

"Sure, do whatever you want." He snaps, tossing the towel into the sink in frustration.

She frowns at him, her shoulders dropping a little at the sight of the slight scowl on his face and the sudden outburst he'd just had. "What's your deal?"

He turns to her. "What's MY deal? My fucking 'deal' is that you were meant to come here to spend time with your best friend and the longest you've spent in the same vicinity with her is when you're sleeping! She came here expecting to find a distraction from the shitty time she's been having at school and you've made it worse for her!"

Deidre stands in shock, the hand that had been reaching for a cookie now fallen limp at her side.

"She's in bed resting right now because she had a panic attack on the kitchen floor not even an hour ago-"

"That's not my fucking fault!" She interrupts him, throwing her arms out expressively.

"Maybe not, but you're not doing anything to help her! You knew she was having a hard time at school and invited her here as a distraction, yet you left her to spend two weeks all by herself! If I hadn't have come along, she'd have been left on her own or forced to join you on your little escapades without a single choice." He huffs, yanking the strings of his apron to untie them from each other before pulling it over his head and hurling it to the ground.

“You know, I asked her every time I went out if she wanted to come with me,” Deidre grumbles, shaking her head, “but she turned me down every single time.”

“Yeah, y’know why she turned you down?” Harry immediately retorts with a growl. “Because she didn’t want to spend time with a couple of random blokes that you know far better than she does!”

She snaps her mouth shut, a deep scowl etched across her brow as she stands in front of him.

"You have no regard for anyone else besides yourself and I am not going to let you ruin this trip for her. So, PLEASE, keep doing exactly what you're doing because I'm positive she's had more time with me than the two of you ever had together!" With that, Harry storms out of the room and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaving Deidre standing speechless in the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to Harry and Deidre, the quarrel wakes you from your slumber in the other room, causing you to become a bit curious and move closer to the door so that you can listen to the lava spewing from both sides. The fight isn’t long, but you hear nearly every word. The way Harry so passionately defends you in the situation, which had initially caused you to feel so unbelievably helpless, gives you a sense of comfort. You know he cares about you, but there’s something so endearing about actually hearing him defend you with so much fervor.

The slamming of Harry’s bedroom door echoes down the hallway, indicating the end of their conversation. You step away from your own door, the backs of your knees hitting the edge of the mattress as you sit. You can hear Deidre walking down the hallway, so to make it seem like you weren’t eavesdropping on their entire conversation, you return to where you were on the bed previously and pretend like you’re asleep.

“Harry?” Your knuckles rap against the wood of his bedroom door gently, careful not to wake Deidre in the other room by knocking too loudly. There’s a brief pause and a shuffling of bed sheets from behind the door before it cracks open, revealing Harry in his sleepy, disheveled state.

“Hi,” He croaks, licking his lips and crossing his arms over his hoodie-clad chest. “Is everything alright?”

You sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously. “Yeah, um- sorry, everything’s fine, I’m just- I’m having some trouble sleeping and- this is stupid, but… could I stay in here with you?” It takes a moment for him to process your words, but once he does he’s nodding and stepping aside to beckon you into his room. “I’m really sorry, I know you were probably sleeping-”

“S’alright, babe, don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “Why don’t you go and get comfortable on the bed while I grab us some tea?”

You nod, giving him a small, tired smile as he steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly. You make your way over to his bed, the duvet pulled back along with the sheets, indicating where he’d been lying on the bed moments ago. Your knees land on the soft fabric as you crawl further into the queen sized bed, finding your place on the other side where the duvet is untouched. A warm mixture of chamomile, jasmine, and a hint of cedar wood engulfs you when you lay your head on his pillow. The smell is intoxicating, one whiff could send you into a peaceful, drunken slumber. But, instead of actually falling asleep, you lie there for a few moments, listening to the gentle sounds of the ceiling fan spinning above your head as it lulls you into a quiet reverie.

Soon, Harry is entering the room again, breaking you from your thoughts as you look to find him stepping through the door with two white, porcelain mugs filled to the brim with steaming tea.

“I hope you’re alright with green tea ‘cause that’s all we have,” He murmurs, moving very slowly towards the bed.

“Green tea is perfect, thank you.” You smile, making sure not to burn yourself or spill any of the precious beverage as he crawls onto the bed beside you and places one of the mugs into your welcoming hands. Once the tea is secured, you adjust yourself so that you're sitting against the headboard, body tilted slightly in Harry's direction.

“So,” He starts, blowing on his own tea in an attempt to cool it down faster. “Is there a specific reason why you aren’t able to sleep?”

You take a deep breath, crossing your legs comfortably. “I'm, um, having a bit of anxiety and sleeping with Deidre just isn't helping since she's always making some sort of noise."

“Anxiety?” He frowns, moving his lips away from his tea so that he can be fully attentive to what you're saying. “Are you alright? Do you need me to help with anything?"

“I guess I'm still a bit on edge from earlier, so there isn't much you can do besides just keep me distracted,” you reply, forcing a small smile. "And the tea helps a lot as well."

"I can definitely do that." He smiles, leaning in to peck your lips gingerly. Of course, you welcome the kisses happily, pulling him in for a few more after he pulls away from the first one. He chuckles into your lips, deepening the kiss by tilting his head every so slightly to the side. Your free hand rests against his chest, so you can feel the gentle vibration of his chortle through the fabric of his hoodie and it makes you smile.

“Oh, also-” you continue after you've parted from his lips. “I never properly thanked you for the books you bought for me. I really do not deserve all that, but thank you, really. They will definitely be of good use.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “S’no problem. You seemed so enthralled by each of them and I thought it’d be a shame for you not to go home with at least a few.”

You smile to yourself, glancing down at your tea. "You really didn't need to do that, but, again, thank you." You reach up to gently cup the side of his face, leaning a little bit closer so that you can capture his lips between yours once again. This time, the kisses aren't as innocent. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to you as his tongue slowly slides against your bottom lip. If it weren't for the steaming mugs of tea in both yours and Harry's hands, it would be so much easier for either of you to take more control of the situation and move into something more than just kissing. You can sense that he wants to do something, and admittedly you do too, but you pull away before anything can happen.

"That isn't the only reason why I came here tonight, though," you speak again as your lips part from his.

He frowns slightly, tilting his head to the side as if to ask: "what's the other reason?"

"I overheard your conversation with Deidre earlier."

His eyes widen. "Oh, fuck- listen, I'm sorry I got kind of carried away. It just made me so angry to see her continuously treat you like that and I- I didn't mean to, like, speak for you-"

"No, Harry, it's okay," You interrupt him before he can continue rambling. "I appreciated it. I probably wouldn't have been able to do it myself, so thank you."

“I really didn't want to make it seem like you can't stand up for yourself, but I know it's just been affecting you so much lately and she needed to be put in her place, even if it made her angry."

"Thank you, really. Usually, Deidre would've been the person to stand up for me for something like that, but lately we just haven't felt as close. Even before this trip. Kinda started to think she just invited me here out of pity... And I honestly wouldn't blame her if she did. " You shrug, staring down into the tea to avoid direct eye contact.

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t think like that-- I’m sure she really did want you to come, but just got distracted by other things. She tends to do that sometimes.”

You shrug wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained to the gently swirling liquid in your cup.

When you look back up at him, you realize how cozy and warm he looks just sitting there in his hoodie and sweatpants, mug of steaming tea sitting at his pink lips. Your tank-top and shorts aren’t doing much to help with the chilled draft wafting throughout the house, so seeing him like that makes you want to crawl into his arms in search of warmth.

He notices the way you’re shivering and moves to set his mug on the bedside table. “Are you cold?”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, a little. The anxiety gives me cold flashes.” He quickly tugs his hoodie over his head as soon as the words leave your lips, carefully taking the mug of tea from your hands and placing it on the bedside table before holding the hoodie open for you to slide your arms in easily. Your heart nearly melts at the sentiment, sliding your arms into the sleeves and pulling the piece of clothing over your head. It’s warm, soft and smells just like him, and it immediately gives you a sense of comfort. “Thanks.” You smile.

“S’no problem,” he replies, reaching over for your mug to offer it back to you. You carefully take it from his hands, thanking him before taking another tentative sip. The liquid is still a bit hot, but it has cooled down just enough for you to sip at your own leisure.

“You’re way too sweet to me, Harry,” you sigh, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over your fingers.

“Y’know, I don’t think I am,” he shakes his head, moving closer to you on the creaky mattress. “Think I should be sweeter, show you how much you deserve it.”

You scoff quietly, looking away from him to hide your flustered expression. “Oh, shut up.”

He falls silent, the only sound that can be heard being the shuffling of the sheets and creaking of the mattress as he moves closer to you again. And then you feel it: his lips pressed to your shoulder through the thick material of his hoodie. It’s soft but it’s there and as soon as you turn your head to look at him, he pulls away, staring directly into your eyes with an almost unreadable expression.

“You deserve so much more than what you think you deserve. I wish I could show you that.”

You maintain eye contact with him, breath caught in your throat. You’re rendered speechless at the depth of his words, forced to take slow, deep breaths to calm the pounding of your heart as he inches closer. You open your mouth to respond, but you’re unable to speak a single word other than the faint murmur of his name.

His hand finds both of yours as they clutch the warm mug of tea, (tighter than you’d initially intended due to the tension clouding your brain) carefully prying it from your fingers before placing it on the bedside table. You angle your body towards him, taking his face in your hands before moving forward to plant your lips against his. He immediately returns the kiss in a slightly more fervent manner, pushing you to fall back against the pillows as he cages you in with his arms.

Despite the unexpected escalation of what began as an innocent conversation, Harry begins kissing you slowly, his tongue laving over your bottom lip and into your mouth. You allow his body to move between your legs as he kisses you, your hands holding desperately onto the nape of his neck and curve of his jaw.

“Wanna show you,” He mutters between hot, wet kisses. “Can I do that?” His face hovers over yours for a moment, waiting for you to say something.

“Yeah- yes, please.” You breathe, reaching up to place your hand on the back of his neck and pull his lips back into yours.

Immediately, Harry’s fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts, helping you tug them down your bare legs and toss them to the side before he lets his hands glide down your legs from your thighs to your calves, reveling in the softness of your skin. He pulls his lips away from yours, staring down into your eyes as his hand falls between your legs, fingers slowly finding your clit over your warm, damp panties.

You hadn’t planned any of this so, of course, so your panties are nothing special, but when Harry lets his head fall down to look at where his fingers meet your sex, a shaky sigh leaves his pink lips. It sounds as if he’s in pain just from the sight of you and he hasn’t even taken your panties off yet.

His lips fall to your neck, pressing hot, wet kisses along each side before trailing down the front of your hoodie clad chest. Once he reaches your lower region, his arms hook beneath your legs, slinging them over his shoulders as he moves to lie on his stomach between them. His hot breath washes over your clothed cunt, causing your legs to quiver around his shoulders at the sensitivity and you suck in a breath to hold back a gasp.

He starts slowly as he peels the soft cotton of your panties from your skin, dragging them ever so slowly down your legs before nudging them aside on the bed. You’re finding it increasingly difficult not to squirm beneath his scorching gaze, but with his arms locked tight around your thighs, your movements are clearly limited.

Harry begins to press gentle, open-mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly between each kiss. Much to your dismay, he pulls away, his knees still planted on the mattress between your legs as he scoops his luscious hair into his hands and pulls it back into a quick, messy bun. You lie there watching him, chest heaving with your labored breaths and he smirks.

“Haven’t even started and you’re already out of breath,” he drops back down to hover over your body and you're left to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat radiating from your skin to your palms. His long fingers circle your wrists, gently tugging your hands away from your face so that he can plant another firm kiss to your lips. "You sure you wanna keep going?"

He stares down at you with a cautious and gentle look in his eyes as he waits for you to respond. His need for consent is comforting and you can tell he really cares. "I'm positive. Please, keep going."

Content with your response, Harry smiles, pecking your lips one last time before crawling back down your body and slinging your legs back over his shoulders just like they were just moments ago. Since he'd removed your panties, there's no barrier between his lips and your glistening sex, his warm breath washing over your sensitive skin and causing your thighs to quiver ever so slightly.

"Ready?" He asks quietly, virescent eyes meeting yours through thick, brown lashes.

His purposeful prolonging has caused you to grow a little impatient, so you huff a frustrated "please," to him in hopes of speeding up the process. He chuckles a little, but finally brings his mouth to your hot skin, tongue peaking out from between his lips to slowly drag against your clit. A shaky breath escapes your lips at the initial contact, and then he presses forward, wrapping his pink, swollen lips around your sensitive button, sucking gently and it causes a much louder moan to tumble from your mouth. Your hand falls to his head, fingers pushing into the hair that was once pulled tight against his head by the messy bun. He lifts his head slightly at the sound of your moan, bringing a finger to his glistening lips as he gazes up at you, mischievous glint behind his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry." You whisper breathlessly and he shakes his head, shoulders shaking with his slight laughter.

His mouth finally returns to your lips, eyes trained to yours to ensure that you don't make any more loud noises before he delves back in, fully devoting himself to your pleasure. Your lip slips between your teeth in a feeble attempt to contain the breathless whimpers and moans itching to spill from your mouth and your hand continues to press into his hair. The pleasure you feel from just his lips and tongue is undeniably amazing. It's obvious the man doesn't shy away when it comes to foreplay and that only eggs on your aroused state.

Languid strokes of Harry's tongue gradually turn into quick, firm flicks that cause your thighs to quiver with pleasure as you clamp your own hand over your mouth to muffle your involuntary noises. He hums against you purposefully so that the vibrations double the work of his tongue and lips into a delicious harmony of blissful ecstasy and your back arches from the sweat-damp sheets beneath you. Your skin is clammy and hot from the heat being emitted from your body, yet the uncomfortable, tacky feeling of it is the last thing on your mind. His mouth is a drug and you're an addict, beseeching for the next dose.

Muffled moans and the sound of his swollen lips colliding with your dripping folds fills the small bedroom and it only makes Harry move faster, desperate to have your release glistening against his chin and upper lip as he gazes down at your heaving body. He wants you to fall apart; he craves to watch you find that burning release within the pit of your stomach and melt into the sheets from the pleasure of it. If only you knew how many times he dreamt of having you in this exact position, nearly sobbing from the work of his skilled mouth.

"Thought about this so many times-" he pulls away, allowing his thumb to take the place of his lips and rub gentle circles against your throbbing clit. "Taste better than I could've ever imagined. Just wish I could really hear you."

His drawled words and the lack of warmth directly against your cunt draws you to look down at him breathlessly, unable to muster a response to his confession. He chuckles at that, not expecting a response before he returns to the task at hand. By now, you're teetering over the edge, aimlessly grasping for a pillow to press over your face in an attempt to silence the growing sounds that emit from the back of your throat. Finally, you find yourself toppling over the notorious edge, the pillow that's pressed firmly against your face throughout the entirety of your orgasm doing its job in muffling your noises.

Harry watches you pulse and shiver helplessly for just a few moments before his hands are pulling the pillow from your face and tossing it above your head so that he can kiss you again. His lips and tongue taste of you as he explores the depths of your mouth and your heart continues to pound against your chest with your labored breaths.

He pulls away from your face after a moment, smiling as he tilts his head to the side. "How was that?"

"That was-" a puff of air leaves your lips, "that was good."

"Just good?" He frowns, pecking his lips down the column of your neck.

“I- fuck, Harry I don’t even know what to say, it was amazing.” You laugh breathlessly, tucking your fingers into his hair.

“Amazing, hm?” He smirks. “Would you say it was five out of five stars?”

A broken laugh leaves your lips again. “Yeah, I’d say it was five out of five.” Heat thunders across your face as you breathe another flustered giggle and he chuckles along with you, leaning forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He presses a few soft, wet kisses to your skin and exhales, his warm breath causing goosebumps to bloom there. His ego has inflated quite a bit from your confession, but that doesn't hinder his desires to make you as comfortable and satisfied as possible.

“Do you need some water, or maybe a snack?”

You push yourself up onto your arms, frowning at him. “What about you?” It’s almost unbelievable to you that after he worked so tirelessly to make you come, his first thought is to ask you if you need anything more, as if he hasn’t already done enough for you.

He rolls over onto his back beside you, staring up at you. “What about me?”

You briefly glance down his body, noticing the visible tent in his sweatpants. “Can I do something for you?”

“If you want to,” he shrugs, trying in vain not to show his agony. He’s obviously uncomfortable. “But I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything.”

You nearly roll your eyes at his unwavering chivalry, wordlessly lifting yourself up and slinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “I want to.”

At that, Harry lifts himself up off of the bed and wraps an arm around your waist to press you into him, that small bit of friction alone causing a low whimper to slip past your lips. His mouth finds yours, fervently pulling kisses from your lips as he guides your hips against his own. You’ve imagined this scenario so many times, yet the feeling of your own fingers frantically coaxing you to release is nothing compared to the feeling of Harry’s warm body beneath you.

Even through the fabric of his sweatpants, you can feel how thick he is and it only makes you want to move faster. His lips have attached themselves to the spot between your jaw and neck, skillfully biting and sucking at the skin as your hips gyrate against his. You can already feel the burning sensation growing between your legs due to how sensitive you are from your previous orgasm, and Harry seems to be reaching his own climax as well. He’s clawing at your hips and ass, desperate to have you as close to him as possible as low grunts fall from his lips.

It doesn’t take long for you to find your release, choking out Harry’s name as your fingers tug and yank at his now lopsided bun. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, continuously swiveling your hips against his as he chases his own impending orgasm.

“Shit!” He groans a little too loudly as he comes, but you’re quick to shush him, slapping your palm over his mouth while your hips work him through his climax. Your thighs are burning and beads of sweat break out along every inch of your skin, but the satisfaction of knowing you’re working him down to his very last drop is enough to keep you going until neither you, nor him can take it anymore.

Once you finally fall limp against his body, he musters enough strength to roll you onto your back, pressing a few chaste kisses along your jawline.

“Was it five out of five?” You breathe, keeping your eyes shut as you lean your head back against the pillow.

“Hm?” He hums, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Would you rate my skills five out of five?”

“Oh, definitely.” He chuckles breathlessly.

feedback is always welcome and don’t forget to reblog!!

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

hey babes (can i call you babes?), could you write remus pranking sirius by walking around the house with tremzy’s jersey because he knows that is an irrational jealousy trigger, sirius going crazy about it and remus laughing his ass off? love your fics btw 😘

You can absolutely call me ‘babes’ if you like, thanks for asking! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove <3 Welcome to the shameless smutfest, everyone! This is the longest smut I’ve ever written, combined with the prompts below:

1. Coops aftercare

2. Sirius teasing Remus

3. Coops trying something new in bed

TW for subspace/ subdrop (fairly mild), light spanking (over clothes), smut, praise kink, and lots of teasing

There were a few things Sirius Black prided himself on above all else, including (but not limited to) winning a Stanley Cup, becoming Harry’s godfather, and scoring Remus Lupin as his husband. However, when it came to actual talents, the one he was proudest of was his kissing ability.

Sirius Black was a damn good kisser and he knew it. He had plenty of experience, after all, and thoroughly enjoyed it; now that the recipient was his drop-dead gorgeous husband, he took even more pleasure in brushing up once in a while. In fact, his entire plan for the day revolved around his ability to make Remus fall to pieces with just a few touches of his lips.

They woke up slow and lazy, letting the July sunlight warm their backs through the window as the replacement fan they bought rattled away downstairs. Remus’ fingers were cold as he traced Sirius’ jaw—of course they are, Sirius thought with a smile—but he watched him with soft, sweet caramel eyes.

With gentle pressure, Sirius pushed him onto his back and captured his lips, carding one hand through his mussed curls. Remus draped his arms over his shoulders as Sirius splayed both hands over his ribs and drew those pretty noises out.

Remus took an unsteady breath, already too addled to nip and suck at his lips—Sirius doubled down and slid his thumb along the dip of Remus’ collarbone, rubbing it in the hollow of his throat until he felt a tremor rock through him and a leg come up to wrap around his hip.

“This is a—oh—a good way to—unh—wake up,” Remus panted, his shaky hands tangling in the grown-out hair at Sirius’ neck. He hummed in agreement, scraping his teeth along that pillowy upper lip; Remus let out a keening sound and ground his hips up, drowning in kisses.

Sirius pulled away with as much self-control as he could muster and rolled back to his side of the bed, trying his absolute best to look casual. “Morning, mon loup. The market opens in about half an hour, so we should get a move on before it gets too crowded.”

A heavy beat of silence passed as Remus blinked at him, his mouth still open and lips redder than ripe strawberries. “Huh?”

Sirius didn’t laugh at his voice crack, but it was a close call. “The farmer’s market, remember? Those cantaloupes you like are in season.”

“Huh?”

“Cantaloupe. It’s the same in English and French, I checked.” He leaned over for the most chaste and quick of kisses, grinning at the heat still radiating off Remus’ body. He looked absolutely befuddled and more than a little desperate as Sirius sat up with a pat to his hip. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait, wait, come back!” Remus hooked his fingers in the waistband of Sirius’ sweats to bring him back, but Sirius just calmly stepped out of them and headed into the bathroom to wash his face, studiously ignoring the pathetic groan from the other room. “You’re gonna leave me like this?”

“I’m heading out in twenty minutes,” Sirius called through the door, pausing to laugh silently. “You’re welcome to join if you like!”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment!”

He raised his head from the sink, half-blind around the water. “I gave you kisses!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“I love you!”

Muffled grumbling answered him, along with the rustling of sheets as Remus clambered out of bed on—yep, there’s the stumble—very shaky legs to get dressed. “You’d better get in here and finish what you started, or I’m getting myself off.”

“Do that and you won’t get what I’m planning to give you tonight,” Sirius singsonged.

The bathroom door swung open; Remus’ murderous glare was somewhat lessened by his thoroughly kissed dishevelment. He paused for a second, then jabbed his pointer finger at Sirius. “It better be fucking good. Also, good morning, I love you.”

He grinned around his toothbrush. “There it is.”

“Is this payback for something?”

“Maybe I just like seeing you squirm for once.”

Remus wrinkled his nose and threw Sirius’ sweatpants at him. “This is definitely payback for something.”

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

The farmer’s market was lovely, partially because of the sunny day and partially because Remus let him keep his hand in his back pocket the whole time. They strolled down the sidewalks, chatting with vendors about summer plans and figuring out what to eat for the rest of the week so they wouldn’t need to pick anything up at the grocery store.

And every once in a while, when he felt like Remus was getting a little too comfortable, Sirius would give his ass a light squeeze.

The reaction was predictable: a catch in the throat, a clench in his jaw, a small, shocked exhale as his eyes fluttered shut for a half-second. Sirius had the decency to wait until he wasn’t talking to a vendor; he wanted to make him horny, not humiliated.

Once Hattie started to get tired and they had collected a variety of necessities, including two cantaloupes that made Remus’ whole face light up, Sirius took his wrist in his hand and pulled it toward his face. Remus’ knees visibly went weak as Sirius checked the time on his watch, skimming a thumb over the perfectly-healed tattoo below it.

“Just past noon. Right on time, mon amour.”

“Sometimes, I think you like that watch more than I do,” Remus muttered, clutching the bag of vegetables in his other hand with white knuckles.

Sirius hummed noncommittally and kissed the sensitive skin of his pulse point, holding his lips there until Remus looked like he was having a hard time swallowing. “Ready to head home?”

“God, yes.”

“Great!” Sirius put his most chipper smile on and linked their fingers together, internally reveling in the clumsy, clammy grip of his husband’s hand. Round two is a success.

As soon as the door to their house closed and Hattie flopped down on her bed by the fan, Remus gave him an expectant look, tugging on the front of his shirt with a glance toward the stairs. He was flushed with anticipation—Sirius almost felt bad when he kissed him sweetly and carried their groceries into the kitchen to fill the cabinets.

There was a frustrated huff from the hallway and, just as he was finishing with the fruit bowl, two arms wrapped tight around his waist as a mouth slid along his neck. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey.” Remus pushed his hips against Sirius’ ass and started sucking a hickey just below his ear, but Sirius turned around and headed toward the living room before any mark could appear.

“I’m going to fix the fan in the backyard, okay?”

“Fine,” Remus gritted out.

“You sound tense, honey.” He grinned over his shoulder as he hefted the box fan and knocked the backdoor open with his hip. “Ça va?”

“I’m just—” Remus waved his hand around for a second. “I’m just gonna finish putting stuff away. Maybe take a cold shower.”

“Make sure to drink something, too. It’s hot outside.” With a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wink, Sirius headed into the backyard.

Forty minutes passed, during which time he almost forgot about his plan while he wrestled with levers and bolts. Just as his forehead began to itch from a mixture of sweat and gear grease, he felt eyes prickling the back of his neck from the house and raised an eyebrow, grabbing his shirt off the ground to wipe the back of his neck.

“Bonjour.”

“What’s going on out here?”

Sirius shrugged, watching Remus’ eyes track the movement of his shoulders. “Trop chaud.”

“Really?”

“Quoi?”

Remus tilted his head back, muttering under his breath, before he leveled Sirius with a look that crackled like lightning down his spine. “Will you at least tell me what I did to deserve this?”

“Qui a dit—”

“Nope, nope, nope.” Remus made a timeout motion, though Sirius noted the high blush on his cheeks. “The kissing and the groping was…” He pressed his lips together for a moment and satisfaction bloomed in Sirius’ gut. “It was something, but is the French necessary?”

“C’est ma langue maternelle!” Sirius protested around his smirk.

“Yeah, I know it’s your first language,” Remus groaned, resting his forehead on the doorjamb. “I need to take another shower.”

“Non, mon loup, revenir!” Sirius laughed, reaching toward him.

Remus gave him a playful glare as he crossed the yard. “Are you going to be horrible to me again?”

“Peut-être.” Perhaps. He nudged the fan away with his foot as Remus straddled his lap, brushing his sweat-soaked bangs out of the way for a lingering kiss. “Salut, mon coeur.”

Remus’ smile got bigger and he pressed closer, nibbling his lower lip. “There it is.”

“Le francais? C’est t’a excite?”

“Peut-etre,” Remus mimicked. “The French always gets me, but the nickname tells me you’ll be nice.”

“Vraiment?”

He let his head tilt as Sirius mouthed along his neck, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Mhmm. We should go inside.”

“I have to finish the fan,” he murmured, biting down just enough to make him gasp.

“Finish it later.”

“We’ll get too hot if I leave it.”

“Don’t care.” Remus’ breaths were coming faster and shallower. “Come on, baby, don’t leave me hanging.”

Sirius hummed and moved back to his mouth, feeling him turn to putty in his palms. He kissed him deep for a few seconds, then pulled back just enough that Remus leaned in for more. “You’re a good boy, you can handle it.”

A whole rollercoaster of emotions crossed Remus’ face: shuddering arousal at the pet name, then confusion at his words, then utter shock, and finally heartwrenching disappointment when he realized. “No.”

“Oui.”

“No.”

Sirius kissed him once more. “Combien de fois que j’ai été patient?”

A small whine slipped through his plush lips and he squeezed Sirius’ waist between his thighs. “Can’t translate, baby, please—”

“How many times have I been patient for you?” Sirius repeated, forcing himself to be calm even though his hands wanted to shake as they slid along smooth, freckled skin.

Remus tensed as he began tracing his ribs and leaned into the touch. “A lot,” he finally admitted.

“A lot,” Sirius agreed. “Do you want me to remind you what happened on Valentine’s Day?”

“Very good things,” Remus said with a devilish grin. “As I recall, you were the instigator and I only made you wait ten minutes.”

“Eleven and a half, actually.” Sirius licked a stripe up his shower-fresh neck and he shivered, even in the mid-afternoon heat. “What time did we get up this morning?”

“Fuck—uh, um, eight? Nine?”

“Eight forty-five.” Remus’ knees slid further apart on the grass. “Can you use that big brain of your to do some math for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Eleven and a half hours from eight forty-five is…?”

Remus’ eyes snapped open. “You’re kidding.”

Sirius made a buzzer noise. “Wrong.”

“If you make me wait until eight fucking pm—”

“Eight fifteen, actually.” Sirius blew a breath over the slick side of his neck and Remus’ jaw tightened. “Think you can make it?”

“No.”

“I think you can. You’re very stubborn, you know,” he said conversationally as he tried to detangle Remus’ limbs from his own.

“I’m not letting go until you promise to fuck me before eight pm.”

“I will shake you off me.”

“Do it. I dare you.”

With a groan, Sirius got to his feet and prayed the neighbors wouldn’t see them as he tried to pry Remus off him; he gave up after thirty seconds, when they were both laughing too hard to keep going. He cupped that impish face between his hands and squished his cheeks. “I promise we’ll go to bed before eight.”

Easy as pie, Remus unlocked his ankles from Sirius’ lower back and slid down with a satisfied little smile, kissing the hinge of his jaw. “Merci beaucoup.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets, making the fatal mistake of turning his back on Sirius while still within arm’s reach—he yelped at the sharp smack of Sirius’ palm on his ass, whipping around with wide eyes.

“Neighbors!”

“Worth it.”

“And you call me insatiable,” Remus laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll be inside when you’re done, waiting patiently like a war widow while our dog tries to eat socks.”

“It’s a beautiful day!”

“I’m not getting sunburned, Sirius!” he called over his shoulder. “We have plans that don’t involve aloe, remember?”

“They could!”

“Nope!”

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

Sirius caught him once more before going upstairs for a shower; despite the grease streaking his skin and the sweat making him sticky, Remus let himself be pushed against the kitchen counter with a moan. In all honesty, Sirius was getting a little tired of the game—a significant part of him was considering bending Remus over the cool marble then and there. It wasn’t like he would get any sweatier.

But, no, the whole point of this was to make Remus the one who begged for it for once. Make him wait, give him a taste of what Sirius felt every single day while he wandered around looking the way he did. And then…then it would be so much sweeter.

It was barely four pm, after all.

“I need a shower,” Sirius mumbled, dipping back in for one more taste. Just one more, he promised himself as Remus’ hands slid along his back. Just a little bit, as a treat.

“No, you don’t,” Remus breathed. He pushed himself onto the counter and tilted Sirius’ face up for a new angle, tugging lightly on his hair.

“I’m covered in—mmm—grease.”

“Don’t care, god, fuck, Sirius.” He could feel Remus’ bulge pressing against the well-worn denim of his jeans and slid a hand down to press over it; Remus whined at the pressure and buried his face in the hollow of Sirius’ neck, biting and sucking at the small tattoo there.

“It’ll be so much better if you wait—”

A sound tore from Remus’ chest and he squeezed Sirius’ waist between his legs. “Bend me over the table, I don’t care, just come on—”

His mouth came off Sirius’ neck with a soft pop. “Shower.”

Sirius hurried upstairs before he could fall victim to those honey eyes that threatened to pull him under like some helpless bug. I am in control here, he thought as hard as he could under the freezing shower spray. He’s going to beg for it and then I can give it to him.

And the best part was, Remus liked it. He had seen the darkness of his eyes with each short-changed kiss, had heard the edge of lust beneath his frustrated grumbling. Sirius was well on his way to taking him to pieces without ever getting past his zipper.

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

Bubbles popped and slid between Sirius’ fingers and he winced at the slimy feeling, but at least it took his mind off the clock. Six forty-five pm—less than two hours before he could finally, finally give Remus what he wanted. The pleading need had turned into a dangerous game, and Sirius wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad. Remus had refused to break eye contact while they talked at dinner; nobody had ever asked Sirius about his day with such aggression, and even fifteen minutes later his pants were still uncomfortably tight. The night was supposed to end with Remus a babbling mess, but he would not object to getting a taste of what he had been dishing out all day.

Sirius was halfway through washing a casserole dish when two familiar hands slid up the front of his shirt and narrow hips pressed him against the edge of the sink. “Wash your hands,” Remus said, brooking no room for argument.

“I’m not done with the dishes.”

“Sirius.” Hot breath fanned over the side of his neck and he suppressed a shiver. I. Am in. Control. “Wash your hands.”

Sirius washed his hands.

He felt a smile spread across Remus’ face and a kiss brushed against the top notch of his spine. “Thank you.”

“It’s not even close to eight, sweetheart.”

“You might change your mind about that.”

“Will I?” He reached for a towel to start drying dishes when he suddenly found himself facing the opposite direction; he barely had time to blink before Remus’ mouth was on his own, plush and warm and wonderful. Sirius started running his hands down Remus’ back, making a beeline for something he could grab a handful of, then stopped short.

“Told you so,” Remus murmured against his lips.

The pleasure center in the corner of Sirius’ brain erupted into cheering as he rolled the familiar fabric between his fingers, gathering a fistful of the jersey in his hand to drag Remus even closer. “That’s a dirty trick.”

“A dirty trick is kissing me within an inch of my life and then making me wait.” Remus licked along his jawline and soothed it with a light bite.

You know how I get when you wear my jersey, he thought with a grin, cracking one eye open to admire the red and gold lining. He opened his mouth to make a joke about the last name, but his words died in his throat. “What in the unholy fuck are you wearing?”

“The same jeans I’ve owned since I was eighteen. Why?” The little shit was smug as the cat that got the canary.

“Remus.”

“They make my ass look fantastic. Sue me.”

“I’m not talking about the jeans.” His hand was officially trembling.

Remus pulled back and met Sirius’ gaze with a challenge in his eye. “You like it when I wear jerseys.”

“You did this on purpose.”

“Wear clothes? Yeah, actually, though I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you.”

“Take it off, then, or I’ll bend you over this countertop.” Sirius’ blood hummed in his ears as Remus crossed his arms over his chest, taking a step back.

“No, you won’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

Something sparked over his face. Sirius almost regretted cornering him in the kitchen before his shower. “Because it’s not eight-fifteen pm and you hate letting me win.”

“Okay, now you’re just fucking with me.”

Remus barked a laugh, short and sharp. He was smiling at Sirius; clearly, he could tell his resolve was crumbling. “Oh, honey, I haven’t even started. I’ve got about nine hours to catch up on.”

“Where’d you get that?”

“I was saving it for a special occasion. Are you going to do something about it, or should I finish weeding the garden?” Sirius had him over his shoulder in half a second, and Remus laughed the entire way up the stairs before he was dropped on the mattress with enough force that the bedposts creaked. “That was aggressive. You could’ve asked, you know.”

Sirius took him by the hips and flipped him over, pointedly ignoring the playful wiggle that showed off the jeans that were practically glued to his legs. “Whatever I do, you’re going to take it, and you’re going to like it.”

He felt Remus’ breath catch under his palm as he pressed down between his shoulder blades. “Oh, I’m sure I will.”

The sight of the loose neckline showing a large section of bare skin did things to Sirius.

The large TREMBLAY stretching across his back did…other things.

He bunched the extra fabric up and hoisted Remus onto his hands and knees, drawing an oof from his mouth before he closed a hand around one side of his ass and squeezed. “Did Logan give this to you?”

Remus’ mischievous smile was all the answer he needed.

The first smack mixed with Remus’ gasp of surprise and Sirius rubbed small circles over the denim his hand had just connected with. “Did Logan give this to you?” he asked again, slower and deeper. Remus nodded. “Was that okay?”

“Yes,” Remus huffed, leaning into Sirius’ hand. “He thought it would be funny.”

“Do you think it’s funny?” Sirius murmured. Remus’ eyes fluttered shut as he released the jersey and moved his other hand down to knead the muscle of his upper thigh.

A grin curled the side of his mouth and one golden eye stared up at him in challenge. “Yes.”

The next smack made Remus’ mouth fall open and pulled a broken whine from him. “You think it’s funny that seeing you in someone’s else’s jersey makes me upset?”

Remus snickered at that, devious and long enough that Sirius paused for a second. “Baby, you’re not upset. I think it’s funny that seeing me in Logan’s jersey turns you on.”

He didn’t make any noise when the third spank came, just arched his back into it with a low hum; Sirius took a moment to admire the curve of his body, then smoothed his hands along the sides and front of Remus’ legs until he could hold the inside of his thighs and cup his dick through his pants. “Seeing you in jerseys always turns me on.”

“What if I wore Pots’?”

Sirius grumbled against the back of his neck and slowly undid the zipper; under it, he could feel Remus’ pounding pulse.

“Or Talker’s?”

“No.”

“It would turn you on,” he singsonged. “I could wear Finn’s jersey. It might still be a little big on me, but—”

He cut off with a breathless moan when Sirius gripped his narrow hips with one hand and slid the other into his underwear. “You were saying?” he prompted with an openmouthed kiss to the exposed bit of his shoulder. Remus’ summertime freckles were in full bloom, speckling him with a galaxy of his very own. He closed his hand around the shaft and ran the pad of his thumb under the head—it was dry still, just barely, but he felt a tremor in Remus’ thighs.

“Logan asked me to return this when I was done with it.” Remus pressed his cheek harder into his shoulder when Sirius dragged his jeans down to his thighs. “He might not want it back now.”

“That depends on whether or not you can keep it clean,” Sirius said as he grabbed the lube from their drawer and slicked his palm; he sped up a bit, and Remus’ eyebrows pitched upward.

“I’ll have—god, fuck—a better chance than you.”

Remus’ nose scrunched on the next smack to his ass and Sirius hesitated, putting both his hands on Remus’ ribcage. “Not good?”

“Meh. I liked it better earlier.” He shifted, kicking his jeans off the rest of the way. “Maybe a different time?”

“You got it, sweetheart.” He leaned down for a kiss—it was a little awkward until Remus sat up further, but they were both smiling into it before his lower lip was tugged between sharp teeth for a quick, sharp moment. “What was that?”

“You’re being sweet again.”

“You like it when I’m sweet.”

“I love it when you’re sweet,” Remus corrected. “However, you’ve already broken your goal, and I’m not letting you back out of this bed until you atone for your sins today.”

“My sins?” Sirius laughed.

Remus cleared his throat and held a hand up, counting down on his fingers. “Number one: copping out of morning kisses. Number two: public indecency at the farmer’s market. Number three: improper use of watches. I’m pretty sure they aren’t supposed to be kissed like that. Number four: Looking sexy with your shirt off in front of the neighbors. Number five: leaving me high and dry three times on purpose. Do I need to get my other hand, or do you get the point?”

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. I adore you. “You’re firing on all cylinders today.”

“It’s a miracle I have any braincells left after that torment. If you don’t make an honest effort to break this bed before eight pm, I’m keeping this jersey on for the rest of the day.”

“I love you so fucking much.” Sirius snapped the band of his boxers. “Though I don’t want to break you.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Sirius twisted the jersey up to kiss the shallow dips of Remus’ lower back in response. They were nowhere near as deep as his own—Remus had a penchant for leaving kisses and light thumbprint bruises there—but they caught the light just enough to melt Sirius’ heart. He sucked a dark hickey on the bend of his hip, then uncapped the lube and set to work.

For all of his teasing confidence, Remus had terrible control over his own limbs when he was past the point of no return. Sirius crooked the two fingers he had worked in, stroking over his prostate again and again until Remus’ legs shook so hard that they almost slid right out from under him.

Sirius’ arm was starting to get a little tired from holding him in place by the back of his jersey, so he pulled his fingers out and let Remus hold his own weight for a moment while he shimmied off his sweatpants.

Remus shivered in the cool air; every few seconds, a ripple of pleasure washed over him. “Come back,” he pleaded. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sirius shushed him softly and dragged his thumb over the lube-slick muscle before lining himself up. A series of cut-off keening noises slipped out of Remus’ mouth as he pushed in, slow but unrelenting. He bunched the jersey up toward his shoulders until the black-letter name—fuck, seeing that on Remus really did get him going in a strange way—was almost completely hidden in the folds and Remus’ back was on full display.

“Can I—can I—ah.” Remus tucked his elbows under his chest as he dropped to the pillows, twitching as the motion changed their angle. I’ll show you an honest effort, he thought.

“Color, sweetheart?”

“Green, fuck, can I see you?” he panted.

Sirius pulled out and turned him over, then set one leg over his shoulder before entering him again with deep rolls that made Remus clench his fist in the bedsheets. He kneaded the insides of Remus’ thighs until he started rambling, fragments of words that Sirius couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Remus’ lower back arched with a pillow-muffled shout and his newly-freed leg knocked against Sirius’ side. “There!”

“What?” The sudden change startled Sirius out of the white-hot haze that had gathered.

“No, don’t stop,” Remus begged, grabbing Sirius’ forearm. All his foxlike smirking had vanished, replaced by something almost feral. He was still the most beautiful thing Sirius had ever seen. “Sirius, please, it’s so good.”

“Like this?” he asked, picking up the pace once again with one arm under Remus’ thigh; his eyes rolled back for a moment and Sirius’ chest stuttered at the sudden tightness around him. A moan answered him, louder than the protests of their poor bedsprings.

Red lips, mussed curls, a disbelieving smile…everything on Remus’ face was blissful as he clutched Sirius close. “It’s so good,” he repeated, half-sobbing, half-whining. “It’s—It’s so—Sirius.”

All three syllables of his name tripped off his tongue individually, and Sirius lifted his hips up an inch, pulling him against his skin for as much contact as he could manage. “Was it worth it?” he asked, breathless and sticky and alight with energy. Remus’ skin was salty with sweat but sweeter than sugar; he smelled fucking incredible, though Sirius couldn’t focus on anything but the catch-hold-release of his muscles beneath his hands. “Was waiting worth it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Sirius grinned against his collarbone, snapping his hips forward; Remus gasped and scraped his fingers along his back in shock. “Told you so. God, Re, you were so patient today. I didn’t think you’d make it past noon.”

“I tried so hard,” Remus said as he threw his head back. “Wanted it so bad.”

“You were pretty naughty there for a bit, weren’t you?” Sirius teased, slowing down and tilting his face over with a hand on his chin.

Remus’ glazed eyes filled with heartbreak. “I just wanted it, wanted you.”

“Oh, honey, I know,” he soothed, kissing his cheek. “You did really, really well. I shouldn’t have kept you waiting so long, huh?”

Remus said something, too quiet for Sirius to hear.

“Could you be good and say that again? A little louder?”

He nodded, slow and hazy. “I fucking loved it, Sirius.”

The last miniscule knot of tension in Sirius’ gut that wondered whether he had taken it too far unraveled. “There’s my good boy. Do you think you can be on top for a bit?”

Remus gave his shoulder a clumsy push with about as much force as a baby koala; he settled in Sirius’ lap when they rolled over and pressed their foreheads together, his chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath. “How do you do that?” he groaned.

“Do what, mon coeur?”

“You’re so sweet.”

“What are you talking about?” Sirius murmured as he rocked his hips up and Remus let his head fall to the side. “You’re such a sweetheart. I love you so much.”

“I’m never this nice to y—” Remus’ sentence cut short as he tightened his grip on Sirius’ shoulders with a gasp; the jersey fell back down, covering his front.

“Raise your arms for me, mon amour.” Remus leaned forward slightly, and within moments the jersey was on the other side of the room while Sirius increased his pace and wrapped a palm around Remus’ shaft. “For the record, I think you’re amazing. And sexy, and funny, and far too mischievous for your own good.”

Remus’ jaw went slack, and he seemed torn between rising on shaky knees and pushing into Sirius’ grip; after a noise of distress, he sat down hard and found the ideal in-between spot to circle his hips.

“Look at you, my clever love,” Sirius panted, cupping his cheek with one hand as precome spilled over his fingers. “Just dripping for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered, blinking hard while he tried to focus on Sirius’ face.

“Don’t be sorry, Re. I’ve got you.”

He moaned, wobbly and frantic—his rhythm became erratic and Sirius steadied him with a hand on his hipbone. “Close, close, close—”

“Me, too.” Sirius swallowed hard and quickened his hand until Remus’ abs clenched and he dropped to his elbows, burying his face in the side of Sirius’ neck with a wounded noise. “Are you alright?”

“I’m so fucking close,” was the muffled answer.

“Let go, sweetheart.” Stars were popping at the corners of Sirius’ vision—he had been so focused on Remus’ reactions that he hadn’t realized how fast he had been barreling toward his own edge. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

Remus sucked in a harsh breath, then spilled over Sirius’ hand. His whole body went hot; Sirius pulled out and quickly jacked himself until he shuddered beneath Remus’ weight, holding him against every inch of skin he could reach.

Their bedroom was humid with the heady warmth of a day’s worth of pent-up tension, finally released. “Re?” Sirius asked, his voice scratchy with fading euphoria. There was a faint buzz against his shoulder when Remus hummed his acknowledgement, though he felt no other movement.

Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ back and kept his face hidden as his legs straightened unsteadily. “Did I—did I take it too far? With the jersey? Was that weird?”

Sirius combed his fingers through his hair. “Not at all, mon loup. That was really, really hot. Can you turn on your side for a moment so we can cuddle?”

Remus made a quiet noise of assent and dragged himself off Sirius’ front; they were both sticky from sweat and come, but Sirius gathered him close with a few slow kisses to his flushed face. “I don’t like this part.”

“I know.” Sirius rubbed a wide oval from the small of his back up to the tense spot between his shoulders, tracing the small scar there. “It’ll be over soon, though. Did I push you too far?”

Remus shook his head with a tired smile. “That was awesome.”

“You haven’t spaced out in a while,” Sirius mused, talking to himself more than anything. He knew Remus liked the rumble of his chest and his post-sex voice, and let him slot their legs together in contentment. “It happened fast.”

“Yeah.”

He glanced down. “Can I go get some water and a washcloth for us? It won’t take long.”

Remus hesitated, then nodded. “You’ll come back?”

“Two minutes, tops,” Sirius assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

One minute and twenty-four seconds later, he sat down next to Remus and guided him into a sitting position so he could drink some water while Sirius wiped his torso clean. Once the glass was drained and they were both significantly less sticky, he pulled him back down to the mattress and ran a finger down the slope of his nose. “You’re so pretty,” Remus said quietly with half-lidded eyes.

“So are you.”

“We should check on Hattie.”

“Right now, we should cuddle, and then we can take her for a walk once you’re feeling better.”

Remus smiled, soft and sated. “I’m already feeling better.”

“After a nap, then.” He kissed him gently. “No headaches.”

“I love your shoulders,” Remus said out of the blue as his eyes slipped shut. “Great to hold on to, and perfect for cuddles.”

“Thanks,” Sirius laughed. “I’m pretty fond of them myself.”

“I always forget how big you are until we do this. You completely cover me. It’s really fuckin’ hot, baby.”

The flattery made Sirius’ heart pound with affection and he nudged their noses together. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Today was so good.” Remus’ voice was sleepy and thick; Sirius rested his chin on top of his head and sighed. “So good. Thank you.”

“Love you, Re.”

A soft puff of air cooled his sternum, just below his tattoo. “I love you, too.”

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Honesty

Characters: Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,830

Warnings: None

Premise: Some habits just turn bad over time, and not matter how much we try they can be terribly difficult to stop.

In which Kaeya keeps to himself.

Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon! I thank you once more, and I hope that this was as you envisioned it. Also didn’t expect this to be so incredibly long but I hope that’s not unwelcome!

Kaeya is one of my favorite characters to write, but I also find him one of the hardest as well. He’s very good at slipping through your grasp, and it can be hard to convey such an outwardly complex and flirtatious character without making him a cardboard cutout. But it’s also incredibly gratifying when you think you’ve done it well. I hope this is one of the times.

Non bulleted pointed version on Ao3

It wasn’t that Kaeya wasn’t used to attention. It was simply that he wasn’t used to your attention.

I mean Kaeya was hardly the most innocent man in Monstadt; almost everyone spoke of the handsome and slightly ill-behaved cavalry captain. Kaeya certainly did nothing to discourage the talk, or the flirting, not when it was so fun. It felt good to be looked at for reasons, well if not positive at least they weren’t in the same league as the notoriety he’d picked up otherwise. Disapproving citizens were certainly better than a disapproving brother, especially since said brother had a habit of parroting Kaeya’s darkest thoughts.

Of course Kaeya wasn’t looking for anything when it came to said flirtations. Not only because the appeal was never there, at least not in any legitimate sense, but because Kaeya secretly felt he was a bit of a burden, something he’d never even admit to himself. And no one wanted a partner with emotional baggage. If there was anything Kaeya was quite sure of it was that. And he hadn’t the time, nor really the ability, to fix all his problems, if he wasn’t permanently broken already. Better to keep away from any firm attachments, one that might ruin the lives of those around him.

This admittedly terrible conclusion was all perfectly fine in theory, but then you’d arrived and it’d all fallen to the wayside.

You were perfection to Kaeya, in more ways than he could count. He loved your smile, as well as the various other expressions you pulled, whether snarky or appalled or excited; he loved the way you laughed, even when you complained it sounded vaguely seal like at some points and like you were dying at others; he loved your every mood and whim, no matter how silly or reckless. He loved when you had a temper and when you showed more restraint than he did, he loved when you acted like a character you’d just read about and he loved when you later got embarrassed by it and begged him to forget it. The list went on and on and on, so many things did he love about you. Most of all he loved that you never seemed in a hurry, not that any of the others had, but the boundaries had shifted quite a bit this time.

So what had begun not so much as flirtation but as awkward friendship blossomed into something more, and Kaeya knew it. Not that there was any proper confirmation, but really was there a need? He told himself that the idea was ridiculous, no need to make things official. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kaeya had changed much at all. Indeed he’d done quite the opposite, determined not to let things shift in the way you two interacted.

Of course he’d excused his actions. After all, though the knight had many contradictory opinions of himself, of his actions, of his past, but they tended towards the negative. He was evil, he was cruel, a shameless opportunist and a failure even in that. Most importantly, in regards to the matter at hand, Kaeya tended to think that he was in no position to enjoy a proper and serious relationship; it wasn’t in him. He’d only bring disaster upon his head and upon the heads of those he loved. How could he let it happen?

That were what he told himself, what again and again he drilled it into his mind. And he ignored the small part of him that told himself it wasn’t any of that, the part which jeered that, if he were altogether truthful, the reason for a lack of meaningful reciprocation ultimately lay in the overwhelming fear he kept buried deep within himself. The fear of telling others about himself. About his actions, his opinions, his morality. The unpolished and deeply irritating bits that even Kaeya couldn’t stand.

But that was buried under too many layers of denial to play into what he was doing, and Kaeya had thoroughly convinced himself that his actions were for the good of everyone, yourself included. So the charade continue, with you saying more and more and Kaeya saying altogether nothing of consequence at all.

“Kaeya, what do you think of me?” You asked one day. It was a summer afternoon, the lazy kind, when all seemed static and half asleep. Kaeya was one of those things, and jolted to full wakefulness, surprised and ill at ease by the sudden question. You didn’t look at all upset, though maybe a bit bashful. The blush that dusted your cheeks and nose was the cutest thing, and if he weren’t so utterly afraid Kaeya might’ve wanted to tease you a bit, and see said blush grow a little bit deeper.

“What do you mean? You’re my fine adventuring friend.” He said, trying to relax once more, hoping the initial jolt of shock hadn’t been evident. It was hard to keep alert at all times around you, especially in what had just been such a relaxing atmosphere. But he had to keep calm and steady, suave as always. Who knows what might happen if not?

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” you began, cadence becoming a little slower, “I’m very glad to hear that. But, well, I was sort of wondering… if it might be a bit… different than that.”

“Is this a sudden confession?” Kaeya asked, tone light and playful.

“No!” You blurted out, gaze dropping. You started tearing at the grass slightly, but the action didn’t worry Kaeya too much. If it wasn’t a confession then it’d be easy enough to sneak out of, and then you two might go back to enjoying the afternoon as usual.

“It’s just…” you continued, staring intently at the ground “it’s just that I want to know. I mean I’m sure it’s obvious how much I care about you, well and truly care about you. You’re my closest friend Kaeya, but you’re also more than that. You’re my confidante, the first person I go to talk to about, well, anything. I said this wasn’t a confession, and it isn’t. But I want to know where we are. And I want you to be honest, what do you think of me?”

You lifted your head up, gaze piercing through Kaeya’s soul. He felt nothing in that moment but terror, the feeling of the ground suddenly giving way below him. What was he to say? What could he say? What did he think of you, the question seemed so simple but Kaeya found he couldn’t answer it, not truthfully. What you meant to him, well you meant almost everything. Kaeya loved you, loved you so much. He wanted to tell you everything about him, wanted to learn everything about you. He wanted to hold you in his arms and listen forever to your voice, to the things you had to say. He wanted to bask in your presence, to drown in it. He loved you, and he knew you loved him too; but it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell you what he wanted to say, what you wanted to hear. It was for your own good, and, Kaeya was realizing very quickly, the idea of doing so, of confessing himself, of laying his soul bare, was something so utterly and completely frightening.

“Like I said you’re my dear adventuring friend.” Kaeya managed to get out, hoping there was no streak of falsehood in his voice. Picking up some of the torn up grass he scattered it onto your head, causing a groan of annoyance. Laughing at his childishness Kaeya steered the conversation towards another topic, hoping the former one would never come up again.

It didn’t, but Kaeya still sensed a change. It was gradual enough, indeed it was so gradual he hardly noticed at first. But eventually the change became too great, and Kaeya felt a distinct sinking sensation the first time he’d passed you on the streets on Monstadt and you’d done little more than smile, instead of running up like you usually did to ask him where he was going and tease him about missing work, sure that he was up to no good.

The initial realization having passed a bunch of little things came to the sudden forefront of Kaeya’s mind. Come to think of it you two never met outside of work anymore; gone were the days it seemed when you two would go for a walk after having sandwiches together, both complaining about the others work and wondering when you might ever have a break.

Gone too was the familiarity in some ways. When you two spoke now there was a formality, a distance that seemed to have popped up. You no longer asked Kaeya about his brother, and in return he stopped asking you about your own family, uneasy by the sudden loss of intimacy, and unwilling to be the one to break the barrier.

As the weeks passed by and you grew more and more distant Kaeya grew more and more frantic. He found himself thinking incessantly about you, about what you were doing, where you were going, whether or not you’d ever smile at him the way you used to, if you’d blush again at his teasing. A small piece of him knew that it was his own fault, and knew that it somehow connected back to the conversation you two had had in the summertime. But self-awareness doesn’t always mean change, and Kaeya still refused to do anything about it.

Then he started dreaming about you. He wasn’t sure why, you two saw each other less and less, and there was no reason for him to suddenly start these dreams, but somehow it’d happen. The dreams were mundane, painfully so. They were much like any other dream in content; the only difference being your presence. You were as before in his dreams, as if he’d somehow been able to rewind the clock, but only in his sleep. The two of you did this and that. You saved reckless Pallad, you rode Dvalin with the Traveller, you ran around the Winery, stealing glasses when no one was looking. Always you two were off, doing something completely normal, and always did Kaeya feel such joy that waking up felt rather like torture. He began to dread it, meeting you in his dreams. It felt painful, so very painful, as if he were betraying himself, as if he were betraying you too in some way. He shouldn’t’ve been dreaming of you, and yet he kept right at it, as if his mind were somehow unable to let go.

After three weeks of not seeing you Kaeya relented. He couldn’t go on like this, not one more moment. His work was becoming sloppier and sloppier, and he felt as if he hadn’t slept in years. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, so wretched from the whole situation that he felt like crying out of frustration. In the dark there was no one to pretend to, and he found himself staring at the curtained window, suddenly hit with his utter selfishness. He loved you, he loved you and you loved him, at least you had. And he’d thrown it all away, not out of any kindness or nobility, but out of his own fear, his own inability to be honest for even a moment. It was his fault that this was all happening, and as such he had to make amends.

He found himself at what had been your normal after-work meeting spot, leaning against a squat sort of maple tree. It was the perfect meeting place, far enough from the city to be picturesque, but close enough not to be a trip. Now Kaeya waited, praying to Barbatos that you might, by some miracle, appear.

Evidently the Anemo Archon was in a somewhat favorable mood, that or Kaeya was simply lucky, for he spotted you about fifteen minutes later, walking leisurely towards the tree. You weren’t truly paying attention to your destination, instead glancing in the direction of Cider Lake, expression slightly clouded. Turning your head you stopped dead in your tracks, shaking your head slightly, as if you truly couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

“I…have something to say.” Kaeya began, not altogether sure what that was. Once he’d come to the conclusion that he was the source of the whole problem it became evident that the only was to solve such a thing was through honesty. But it had been so long since Kaeya had been honest, really truly honest, and he now felt awkward and slightly shaky, as if learning to walk all over again.

“What is it?” Your tone, though surprised, held no hostility in it, instead it seemed vaguely curious. The thought gave Kaeya a bit of strength, and he drew himself up a little more, determined to see this through no matter what.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you. I haven’t… haven’t been honest. I think you realized that, indeed I think you realized it long before I did. But, now that I’ve realized it I want to say I’m so deeply sorry.” He paused for a moment, not sure how to continue on. “Do you remember when you asked me what I thought of you?” He finally asked.

“Of course I do.” You smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “You said I was your friend.”

“Well I was lying.” Kaeya’s voice was blunt, the flirtatious tone that he usually put on nowhere to be found. “In truth you mean so much to me, so much more than I could put into words. You said that you weren’t making a confession, but I am. I like you, no, I love you. You mean more to me than everything, than my past, than my work as a knight, than my shame I carry in regards to my brother. Being around you is like soaking in the sun, or gazing at the moon, and I took it for granted. I took your entire presence for granted, and I understand why you felt the need to distance yourself. Our friendship was built on dishonesty, all because I was afraid. I am afraid still, so very afraid, but I find what I fear more than telling you all of this is never having the opportunity to. You’d don’t have to reciprocate, don’t have to approve of anything I just said. But if there’s any little bit of you that felt as you did this summer I want to apologize to it, and tell you I feel the same.”

The silence was deafening, oppressive. For once Kaeya found he couldn’t keep your gaze; his entire affect, his personality, it was all gone, and what was left was raw and badly kept. Shifting his gaze towards the lake he held his breath and waited for your answer.

He felt your fingers glance his. Snapping his head towards where you were he searched your face for something that might reveal what you were thinking, but you quickly looked at the ground.

“Thank you.” Your voice was no more than a whisper, but to Kaeya it was a lifeline, the fact that he was able to hear your voice once more. “Thank you for being honest.” You slipped your hand into his. “And to answer your unsaid question, I do feel the same way I did when I asked you before. And this too is now a confession, or rather an assent. I love you Kaeya, I’ve never stopped loving you. And though I may still feel a bit hurt by your lack of honesty then, I only ask you this,” you finally moved to look him in the eyes, your gaze misted over by hope and joy and a hint of sorrow, “will you be honest with me now?”

“Until the day I die.” Kaeya breathed out.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You replied, dropping his hand and flinging your arms around his neck.

Kaeya immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you” he whispered, over and over again. The fear that had once filled his mind was no more, instead he felt as if he were floating, kept tethered to reality only by your embrace. He was relieved, but more so he was happy, so unbelievably happy. You’d given him a chance he’d never give himself; you’d opened your life back up to him, and now you two might never have to be separated again, not truly anyways.

“Want to know something?” Kaeya asked, tone playful, as you two walked back to Monstadt, hands linked.”

“What?” You asked, slightly curious. Kaeya smiled, before leaning over and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.” He whispered against your skin. And he meant it. With his whole heart he meant it.

#thank you so much for your request!#I hope it's rather not too long #I got ahead of myself lol #anyways... yeah!#requested #kaeya #kaeya x reader #gn!reader #scenario #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #my writing

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jolynej · 3 years

Text

I’m Not in Love

Summary: You and Prosciutto, both determined to keep things casual, are sent out on a mission to eliminate a target, but something goes wrong and you end up hurt, forcing Prosciutto to come to terms with his feelings

A/N: I started this weeks ago, but have been so busy that I haven’t had time to properly finish it until now! I’m a very slow writer, and I struggle with creating longer fics that exceed 1k words, so this was a huge labor of love! I hope that y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: heavily implied nsft, violence, guns, minor character death, blood, Prosciutto being a bit of an asshole, fainting

You both told each other when you made this arrangement that it was strictly physical and that you were only doing this out of convenience and carnal desire. Sure, he’s very attractive, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about lingering in bed and pretending that you’re still asleep if only to savor his body heat and the weight of his arm across your torso for a few more minutes. But you couldn’t possibly cross that line.

The lives that both you led didn’t allow for the luxury of developing and maintaining romantic — or any, really — relationships that were outside of your work. You’d lost friends and family members to the steady passage of time and lack of communication. It came with the territory of the job, and though you’d tried to justify your drifting relationships by assuring yourself that it was done to protect those you used to hold close, you knew that was just an excuse you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

The initial adjustment to your new job was tough in that aspect, but Prosciutto, aside from being your mentor, slowly became a comfort and a confidant for your bouts of anxiety and late night regrets of leaving your old life behind. You’d joined him outside at night on the balcony of the hideout plenty of times. He would self-soothe with cigarettes, exhaling out his demons in the shape of a puff of smoke whilst he listened to you reminisce on your happier, less bloody days.

“It’s a damn shame you’re so good at you job,” he’d told you one particular night, when the orange and white city lights below cast a bright glow over his sharp features; yet simultaneously, it accentuated the dark circles under his eyes, and the shadows beneath those jagged angles of his cheekbones and jawline made him look far older than he was. Prosciutto looked beautiful as he did horrible.

You just shook your head and smirked, inquiring, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Kid, there were many different paths that you could’ve picked from,” He stops briefly to take a drag of his cigarette. “But this is what you opted for.” The blond flicked his cigarette and snuffed it with the toe of his oxfords, answering with, “All I’m saying is that you had your whole life ahead of you, and instead of getting a normal, decent job, you decided that this was worth the Louboutins and those diamond earrings of yours.”

“It’s good that it ended up working out for you.”

His compliments were usually pretty backhanded, but you could tell that this wasn’t just because of his usual condescending behavior. He seemed almost... sad and guilty, but then again, it could just be from the shadows on his face exaggerating his features.

“I’m glad you’re damn good at your job, too,” you remarked, leaning against the railing, savoring in the feeling of the warm, summer night wind caressing your face.

Soon, you found the touch against your cheeks was replaced by his calloused fingers and then his lips, giving birth to a routine that would continue every-so-often: you’d join him outside at night and would wake up in bed next to him in a tangle of limbs and satin sheets.

Maybe it was only natural that you and him would end up growing closer and more intimate.

—

This little arrangement between the two of you continues, and with each time you bare yourself to him, you struggle with your developing feelings. After you had slept together that first night — before you had a real chance to give yourself a proper chance to evaluate your own feelings — he assured you that the prior night’s events had meant nothing to him, that it was a mistake. He apologized, confessing that the rendezvous had stemmed from a place of pent up arousal and convenience and that it wouldn’t happen again.

That’s what he’d said the second, and third, time too. But by the fourth time, you’d both decided to become ‘coworkers with benefits’ as you’d so eloquently put it. It’s purely out of physical need and mutual trust and nothing else. There’s no time for romance.

—

The following spring, you were sent out together to a job on the coast, and were given a shared room at a hotel near the warehouse where your target was supposedly going to be tonight. The assignment had worked in your favor, you’d both arrive mid-morning, have time to scout out the location, go back to the room for a quick fuck, then proceed to the location, clean up, and spend the night between the sheets until you both passed out from sheer exhaustion.

“The target should be on location this evening,” he informs you casually as he’s sliding on his trousers, as if he hadn’t just fucked you into the mattress. He gives his watch a quick glance before speaking again. “Which gives us approximately an hour before we need to head out.”

You nod, reaching for your clothes — his hand stops you, grasping your wrist. “Let me clean you up first,” he says, briefly locking eyes with you, before averting his gaze just as quickly. “If you’re going out you should at least be comfortable.”

While Prosciutto walks off to the bathroom to retrieve a glass of water and a washcloth, you look down at your naked body. Your combined releases dribble down your thighs, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the sticky, wet sensation on your lower body.

He’s back approximately a minute later, the glass is set upon the nightstand, and he’s kneeling, still shirtless, at your feet with the wet washcloth in hand. He cleans you up in relative silence, and the intimacy and vulnerability in this situation is not lost on either of you. It hangs around like a heavy fog that both of you desperately try to ignore, hoping that it’ll dissipate.

Under different circumstances, you’d love to be able to cradle his chin in your hand and confess every single romantic thought that you’d ever held for him, and in turn, he’d press tender kisses up your thighs, and trade the rag for his tongue, cleaning you up with a few slow licks. Instead, you give him a curt, ‘thank you’ and get dressed.

Your little trysts were littered with subtle, more domestic moments like this one where you wanted to push the boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate when you’re in a friends-with-benefits situation with your coworker. Even without the romance that you so desperately craved, there was still a strong sense of intimacy and familiarity with each ‘Was I too rough?’ or ‘You can sleep in here tonight’ that could only stem from a certain level of trust and comfort.

The rest of the time leading up to your assignment was spent going over your plan of attack and working out any loose ends or confusion on either side, and as he spoke, you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to travel down to his plush lips and the exposed patch of skin from his half-buttoned blouse that, when he shifted at a certain angle, allowed for you to catch a glimpse of a dark red bruise where your lips had been.

You were passing the threshold, the imaginary line. You’d stepped on it, gotten it stuck to your feet, and try as you may to deny its presence and scrub it clean from your skin — you could scrub it raw, until you bled — it wasn’t something you could erase.

As he’s stepping out of the hotel room, you glance back to ask him if he’s ready, but you’re caught off guard by the buttons of his shirt. They’re all closed completely save for a lone button rendering the bruise no longer visible. Inquisitively, the blond quirks up an eyebrow, silently asking if there’s a problem.

“I’m just ready to get this over with,” you sigh, matching your stride with his as you both exit the hotel and journey to the warehouse.

The target doesn’t show as planned, much to your and Prosciutto's dismay and annoyance. You had both searched the large building and its surroundings as thoroughly as possible but still the target hasn’t made an appearance. There aren’t even any hidden clues as to where he’s run off to. As pissed as you both felt in that moment — you were cursing to yourself and your partner was leaning against a metal structure with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth — Risotto was going to be absolutely furious.

Unlike most contracts where you were paid after the deed or half before and half after, the client had paid a hefty sum up front and with a dark leer he was insistent that the job be completed as soon as possible. Something deep within you knew that he would not be the type of man whose bad side you’d like to be on.

Defeated and angry, you both decided to bite the bullet and head back to the hotel to inform your superior of the unfortunate situation. Just outside of the hotel, Prosciutto glances over at a payphone on the street corner.

“Go on inside and shower and eat, kid, I’ll talk to Risotto.”

“Are you sure? We can speak to him together, or I can just sp—“ He cut you off with a hand patting your cheek, gently thumbing your skin. He was stressed and so were you.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” he manages a tiny half-smile. “I’ve got it.”

Yeah, you are stressed as all hell, but at least you didn’t have to be at the receiving end of Risotto’s wrath — for tonight anyway. Thinking about Prosciutto opting to do so in your stead and acting out of concern for you sends a cacophony of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. He has always looked out for you ever since you’d joined, but this was something more than just him looking out for a junior member of his team. There was no way that he’d touch Formaggio or even Pesci like that, with such a pure tenderness that leaves your skin tingling from where his fingers were.

Making your way up the stairs to your shared room, the sensation of butterflies immediately flees from your stomach and instead, an eerie, insidious feeling begins to tiptoe up your spine, and you get the sense that something is very, very wrong.

One of the hall lights has gone out, and the other is flickering in random spasms as it emits a faint buzz. With each step towards your door, the broken light fixture seems to dim and buzz louder until it makes one final loud screech and dies completely the moment that you touch the door handle, and as soon as your fingers gripped the metal handle, an overpowering jolt of electricity fizzles throughout your entire body, sending you doubling over in pain, desperately croaking out for your stand as you fall to the dingy carpet.

The world around you seemed to morph into blackness and little snippets of sounds — you weren’t sure if you were still awake or if you’d lost consciousness — but you clung onto what you could decipher to the best of your ability. Static, the plodding footfall of someone running on carpet with urgency, the unmistakable click of a gun, a heavy thud, then silence.

You crane your head and espy a familiar pair of oxfords, and with a sigh of relief you feel your eyes grow heavy.

—

You come-to in the backseat of a car, and if it weren’t for the intensity of the events before you passed out, you would’ve happily shut your eyes to the steady thrum of the car speeding down the road. A bubble of panic rises up your throat, throwing your senses in overdrive as you carefully assess your surroundings. You find that a suit jacket has been draped over you like a makeshift blanket, and the familiar scent of cologne, tobacco, and cigarette-smoke is an instant relief.

Looking up, you find Prosciutto is in the driver’s seat of the car with a plain, white tank top in the place of his button-up. The bones of his knuckles are prominent due to the strain and force of his grip on the steering wheel, and they’re dotted with specks of red that extend up to his forearms.

There’s an evident scowl on his lips, which are scabbed and bloody from worrying teeth marks and not from — what you can safely assume given the sound you’d heard earlier — a gunshot to the man that had been in your hotel room.

“The target was dealt with,” he says upon seeing you awake, and he disguises it with a cough, but his entire face softens with a relieved sigh. The visible tension in his bulging veins on his forearms eases along with the death-grip that he has on the steering wheel; Prosciutto settles one hand on his thigh, splaying his fingers out on the fabric of his trousers, feeling for something in his pocket — cigarettes most likely. He’s still antsy and tense, alternating between his hands on the wheel to search his other pocket.

You have a myriad of questions wreaking havoc on your brain, which is still a bit fuzzy from the electricity and has brought on a dull headache. With the blazer clenched tightly to your chest, you fiddle around until you find a pack of his smokes and pull them out, holding them in the air with a dopey, lopsided grin that says ‘lookee here!’. It earns a playful eye roll and a smirk from Prosciutto who brings his hand back to take them from you.

When you offer the box up, your fingers brush, and you swear that he leaves his hand extended towards you a moment longer than necessary. The sensation sends a full-body chill through your veins.

“Put the coat on, kid, I don’t want you freezing up and getting sick in the car.” He’s staring straight out at the road, but you know the sentiment is there, beneath the layer of sweat and blood there’s worry. “Go back to sleep,” he orders in that gravelly, stern but caring tone of his that he uses on you when he gives you orders, and only you. In a way, it’s not that much different from how he talks in bed, and the familiarity has you warm all over. God, you’re in love with this man.

“I’ll wake you up in about an or two, capisce?”

—

You’re awoken by Prosciutto opening the door of the backseat and calling your name. You can barely see him, he’s almost a dark, looming figure in the night. The sky in the countryside is worlds away from the city skyline that you’re accustomed to. Behind him, there’s a sea of twinkling stars, and the bright crescent moon hangs proudly behind his head like a half-halo, and he appears to you like a fallen angel, still clinging on desperately to something good and holy that someone like him does not deserve. In his right hand, he holds a shovel, and his arms and face and tank top are caked in the weight of his sins, blood and dirt and sweat; you surmise that the closer you get to him, the less the moon resembles a halo and moreso a pair of horns. Again, the night is playing tricks on you.

“I’ve buried the remains,” he explains. “I decided it would be easiest to just take care of it myself until we can get you checked out. We don’t know the full extent of the damage that you’ve received or what effects that my stand could have on you in this state.” It’s a poor excuse, and you both know it, but it’s easier for him to lie to you when his facial expressions are harder to see.

Still, you don’t know if it’s from the adrenaline in your blood, your feelings for him, or some leftover electricity that’s done something to your brain, but you decide to call him out.

Sitting upright, you say, “I still could’ve helped, Prosci, otherwise there would be no point for me to come on this mission with you. You’ve done more than enough to help me, and I… I really appreciate everything that you’ve done to help me, but I have to work to earn my share of the payment!

“I can’t just lie back and let you treat me like some doll or damsel in distress!” You spout, wadding up his blazer and tossing it at him. He catches it with a growl, and the shovel clatters to the ground with a resounding clang.

He’s crawling across the backseat, hovering over you like a mangy beast; truthfully, you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so unhinged and disheveled. His scent bears no resemblance to the comforting aroma of his suit-jacket, and instead, he emits a pungent odor of grime and sweat, evident by the damp, dirty stray pieces of hair that encircle his face and the thin layer of earth that stains his skin with splotches of gray and brown. He looks like he can hurt you, and for a second you make the mistake of thinking that he will.

“Kid, you need to listen to me! I—“ he huffs, but upon seeing your face up close, all scared and doe-like, he kisses you. It’s emotional and hurried and needy and far unlike any previous kiss that you’d shared. It’s not spurred on by wanting or lust but by love and a great fear of loss.

“I love you,” he whispers like a gasp when he pulls apart from you. “I love you,” he says once more, softer, sweeter. “I love you.”

In his eyes, you can see every word that he leaves unsaid, his confession of how afraid he was that he’d never see you again, how he panicked and saw red and shot the man on sight, how he carried you to the car with a metaphorical knife stabbing at his heart, and how he almost cried from relief when he saw you open your eyes.

“I love you, too,” you say back, smiling, kissing him again with that same passion as before.

#prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #tumblr formats things so weirdly!#jjba #my fics

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stanning-reyna · 3 years

Text

BOTL One-shot

“I know someone who can help,” Percy had said. Help isn’t exactly the word Annabeth would use to describe what Rachel had done so far. She had led the trio right into Luke’s forces in the arena of Antaeus, which they had narrowly escaped from. Sure, she could see some sort of path through the maze, but how could Annabeth even know that it would lead them to Daedalus’ workshop?

She thought all this over as she kept watch for monsters while Percy and Rachel slept on the hard ground of the labyrinth. Though it was the middle of the night, she was wide awake. Her mind was too busy going on about recent events to be tired.

On top of the practical issues, Rachel gave Annabeth a sour feeling. After years of training, Annabeth had finally received a quest. She had Percy by her side, alive. But then here comes some mortal who’s put no effort in whatsoever, and she gets to lead the quest? Annabeth and Percy had always gone on quests together, it was what they did. This random girl isn’t a part of that. Some part of the situation sent a pang of sadness through Annabeth’s heart, but she decided to ignore that feeling. She couldn’t, however, ignore the tears now rolling down her cheeks.

Out of the silence, she heard footsteps coming from down a dark tunnel to her left. Annabeth’s right hand flew to her dagger as she readied herself to face a monster, her other hand wiping the tears from her face. Out of the blackness walked a figure. As it came into the light, she saw that it was none other than Percy. Annabeth whipped her head around to check the spot he had been sleeping in only moments ago. He still lay there, his body moving softly as he breathed in his sleep.

Annabeth quickly turned her attention back to the person in front of her. He looked like Percy- curly, unruly hair fell against his forehead and he wore a dirty Camp-Half Blood shirt.

“Come on,” he said. He sounded like Percy too. “We gotta go.”

She took a moment to look between the two boys again. Sure enough, there were two Percys. Annabeth immediately began racking her brain for any myths involving doppelgangers, clones, or anything of the sort, but came up empty. Maybe it was the shock of seeing two of the same person in front of her that stunted her brain from thinking properly. Or maybe it was the fact that Percy was holding his hand out to her and with his eyebrows scrunched together like that he looked so cute- yep, that was definitely distracting her.

“Annabeth, let’s go,” he said, his voice more insistent than before. Annabeth found herself taking his hand and pulling herself up to her feet. Something about this isn’t right, a part of her brain pointed out. She didn’t listen. It felt like something was calling her to leave with Percy.

He motioned towards one of the tunnels and she snatched her backpack up off the ground before following him. In silence, they walked down the dark, curving path. A few minutes passed and Annabeth spoke up, asking, “Where exactly are we going?”

“To find Daedalus’ workshop. That’s our goal, right?” he responded casually. Annabeth looked at him to see if he was joking. They both know just how well it had gone the last time the two of them went searching alone. But he seemed to be completely serious about it, as if he had forgotten about nearly dying in a volcanic explosion.

“Find his workshop, get Ariadne’s string, and bring it back to camp.” Annabeth recited the steps like she had for weeks. It will go better this time, she decided. What are the chances that they would end up in a volcano twice anyways?

The tunnel they were walking in took a steep slope downward. It seemed to go down forever in front of them, reaching into the deep darkness of the underground. Something about it seemed more ominous than the other tunnels in the maze.

“I don’t think we should be going this way,” Annabeth whispered, stopping in her tracks. She didn’t speak too loud for fear that something horrible would break out of the eerie silence.

“This direction is as good as any,” Percy said as he grabbed her arm, tugging her forward. Her feet stayed rooted in the ground. He didn’t usually dismiss her thoughts so easily, and she wasn’t about to let him start.

“There’s something about this that isn’t right. Let’s go back before it’s too late,” she said firmly. She may not be an expert on navigating the labyrinth, but she had the common sense to avoid whatever was down that tunnel. Her words didn’t seem to make Percy budge.

“Don’t you trust me, Wise Girl?” he replied softly.

She did. She really did. He’d had her back countless times before on quests, never once failing her. She felt the same feeling from before calling her to follow Percy. After a few moments of hesitation, she did. How bad could this tunnel really be? Surely the two of them had faced worse before.

They began their decline into the earth. The little lights that had lined the path were dimming as the air began to rest heavier on Annabeth’s skin, making her feel sluggish.

Percy grabbed her elbow and motioned to a narrow entrance to their left. His warm hand sent sparks rippling across her skin. She walked towards the opening, feeling lightheaded and tingly.

She thought she heard a noise in the distance, like a person yelling, but couldn’t quite make it out. Percy pressed his hand to her back, soft and supportive, nudging her forward, and she stepped into the even darker side tunnel.

“Annabeth!” a voice cut through the air from somewhere far away. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

“We need to hurry,” Percy whispered into her ear. Annabeth felt her feet moving forward, automatically obeying the command. The sneaking suspicion that something wasn’t right entered her head again. Something about that distant voice made her question if she should keep walking, but the growing fuzziness in her brain quickly pushed it away.

“Annabeth!” they called again, this time close enough for her to hear their footsteps. Before she knew it, Percy was practically dragging her down the tunnel as they ran from the voice. Her head was spinning now and she felt herself stumble. Percy pushed her through a door to their right before her legs buckled, landing her on the floor.

The voice was louder than ever before, possibly just down the path from them. Annabeth’s vision was slightly blurred, but she could make out Percy standing above her. She must have been imagining things because it looked like his figure was changing, growing long and gaunt, almost skeletal.

He pressed his hands into her shoulders and she felt a sharp pain like claws digging into her skin. She tried to writhe out of his grip, but his hold tightened. Everything around her was spinning now as her brain seemed to fill with cotton.

Suddenly an image sparked in her mind, though she had no clue why it had appeared. It was a memory of a hot summer’s day, paddling in a canoe on the camp lake. Percy was next to her in the boat, splashing her with water as she tried to navigate. Annabeth remembered how close she had felt to him that day. There was no quest to complete, no monsters to worry about, just her and Percy spending time together.

She found herself giggling despite the still stinging pain in her shoulders. Sure, her vision was thoroughly blurred and she couldn’t focus her mind on anything other than the memory, but that was alright. It was a happy memory, and she felt happy. Whatever was going on around her could wait.

“ANNABETH!” the voice screamed again, now so loud it hurt her ears. Something pulled her up to her feet as a loud screeching sound filled the space around her. She knew that sound- it was a monster dying.

After a few more moments of detachment, Annabeth noticed her vision was coming back into focus. She could feel her hand pressed against the cold stone wall, holding her upright. In front of her stood Rachel, a distressed look on her face.

“You alright?” the redhead asked. Annabeth nodded slowly, still dizzy.

Percy came into her view, covered in monster dust. “You know, when we said ‘watch for monsters while we sleep’, we didn’t mean for you to follow one back into the maze,” he said.

Annabeth blinked and looked at the ground. Right where the distorted Percy had been only moments ago was a pile of dust. He had been a monster. Annabeth had seen cyclops that could change their voices, but she had never encountered something that could change its appearance like that. It sent a shiver down her spine to think that just minutes ago she had taken the hand of a monster that intended to kill her.

Rachel cleared her throat and Annabeth looked back up at the two. The bewilderment on both of their faces told her that she was the only one who had seen it as Percy. This will be a long explanation, she thought. She just hoped that they never ran into whatever that was again.

AN: So for some reason I’m obsessed with the idea of a monster that takes the shape of your loved ones and lures you to your own death. And I finally finished writing about it! I hope you enjoy

#annabeth chase #percy jackson #rachel elizabeth dare #botl #battle of the labyrinth #percy jackson fanfiction #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction #annabeth chase fanfic #annabeth chase fanfiction #percabeth fanfic #percabeth fanfiction #annabeth angst

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: prince!seokmin x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 12,690 ⚬ warnings: none. ⚬ genre: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, angst, teasing, some slowburn romance, superfluff toward the end.

✧✎ synopsis: the time has come for prince seokmin to meet his arranged marriage, which forces you to confront a strange predicament: if you truly hate the prince, then why does the thought of him being with someone else hurt this badly?

✧✎ a/n: yeah... i’ve wanted to write some prince!lsm since his excalibur pictures. evidently, i am very late! i hope u enjoy nonetheless :-)

Hiking up the long, heavy layers of your dress, pale and coloured like lilacs, you retrieved a small carving knife that had been clandestinely strapped against your outer thigh. Buried a few feet away from you in the grass was a smooth, palm-sized piece of beech wood, which you quickly picked up before walking back to the bench. You sat down horizontally, stretching out your legs and taking up as much space as possible whilst you started carving down the edges of the beech wood, flicking away the occasional shavings.

It was only to kill time as you waited for the royal gates to open. That night, the King and Queen were hosting an annual, celebratory dinner to commemorate the newest anointment of pages, otherwise known as the fresh grouping of students who would serve the knights and learn about their duties, specifically how they protected and served the kingdom. It was a true honour: you had been requested to cook in the royal kitchen, and the younger apprentice your mother hired at the bakery, Chan, was going with you.

He was notably excited and couldn’t sit down, instead pacing in front of the tall, wooden gateway into the castle grounds. This would be his first time seeing the royal family’s abode from the inside, and if he was particularly lucky, he might get to meet the Prince. To him it was a big deal, but you couldn’t care less. At even just thinking about the Prince, you started pressing your knife harder against the beech wood, gritting your teeth as a larger piece curled off and fell into your lap. Lee Seokmin, he was the Prince.

You absolutely hated him.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing, child?”

The sunlight that glinted against your face was interrupted by your mother, who had her hands sternly placed on her hips, glaring down at you in sheer disapproval.

“Give me that.” She quipped whilst scowling at the blade. “This instant.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat up properly on the bench and dusted the cream-coloured shavings off your lap. She never let you do anything, and when you were in close proximity to the castle, she became even more rigid and hawk-eyed. You gave her the knife which she hastily folded up, watching her pocket it inside a pouch on the front of her white dress.

You still held onto the beech wood.

“There is no reason to bring a weapon into the King and Queen’s home. I should not have to reprimand you like this once more. Behave in the way I have taught you.”

Suddenly, there was a loud command you heard echo from the turret, and the tall, wooden gateway into the castle grounds began pulling apart. You heard the clink belonging to the iron chains and the cracks in the elderly oak. Chan stumbled backward, leaving sufficient room for the gate to open. Unlike the apprentice whose eyes were glimmering in awe, you had to swallow the bitter taste in your mouth and put on your fakest, most convincing expression of content. It was going to be the longest night of your life – even longer if you had to eat supper with the Prince.

Just before you were guided into the royal family’s abode by the caterers, you swiftly pulled up the side of your dress and tucked the piece of beech wood between the garter belt at your thigh. Then, you rushed to stand beside Chan.

“Excited, are you?” You asked him.

He tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind his ear, practically bouncing in his place. “It is my biggest wish to sit down with the Prince! To cook for him is already a sure pleasure.”

You couldn’t help but huff at the apprentice’s enthusiasm. He should consider himself lucky he didn’t know Seokmin the way you did.

Time passed quickly, and it was almost two hours into preparing the onslaught of fruit, meat, vegetables, and grain required to make the celebratory supper. The royal kitchen was much larger than the small, quaint space you operated back at the bakery, where everything was tightly shoved together and you knew each crevice like the back of your hand. You were working up a sweat as you kneaded a large, thickening dough. Once you were satisfied, you floured a wooden roller and began flattening it out, using a tin can to cut perfect circles.

You told Chan to put the tray in the clay furnace and keep an eye on the rising bread.

“Where are you going?” He immediately inquired upon watching you untie your apron, hanging the splattered fabric on a hook jutting from the stone wall.

“It’s quite hot. I’m stepping outside for a few minutes. No more than that.”

The young boy nodded and proceeded to follow your orders, keeping a watchful eye on the dough that would soon become crispy, warm pieces of bread. You slipped into the long corridor that led outside. There was still a noticeable heat in the evening air, though it was much less overwhelming compared to the kitchen, packed with fires and bodies and steam. A soft, glowing pink tinted the sky, and you were surprised at how little clouds there were.

Just to be certain, you felt underneath your dress for the piece of beech wood, relieved to brush it against your skin.

A distant sound captured your attention, somewhat like the noise of steel slashing against steel. Walking along the side of pillaring cobblestone, the noise grew louder, accompanied by indiscernible, muffled shouting. You stepped around the small wildflowers sprouting from the grass, keeping as silent as possible upon approaching the corner that ended at an iron gate.

Sparing a cautious glance between the bars, you looked into a large courtyard covered with sand. There were two young men sparring against each other, competitive but lighthearted in their expressions and the nature of how they operated their swords.

It was none other than the Prince himself, Seokmin, against his lifelong accomplice, Jeonghan.

You plucked your head back and inhaled delicately. The unique airiness of Jeonghan’s laughter reverberated into the evening, summer air, joining hymn with the sharp steel. You peaked through the iron bars again. Seokmin was still buried in his hefty silver armor, a layer of chainmail hanging from his shoulders. Expertly, he caught the underside of Jeonghan’s sword with his own and twisted the weapon from his friend’s hands, which dropped against the sand with a soft thud. Jeonghan stumbled backward, panting heavily.

“For God’s sake, I surrender!” He laughed, dusting off his shiny armor.

Seokmin slid his sword back into the sheath at his waist, smiling triumphantly.

“You squander each attempt at defeating me. Have you just lost another bet with my blacksmith?”

Jeonghan bent down to pick up his sword and huffed, “it could be so.”

“You are inclined to become a beggar,” the Prince teased, “thankfully, tonight’s feast shall leave you with plentiful portions to take to the streets.”

There was a small, stone fountain bubbling beneath an overhang in the courtyard. Seokmin allowed a generous cup of water to form in his hands before splashing it along his face, the droplets streaming down his amber skin that had been caked with dust. Once he cleared away the grit, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the long, black curls.

He smirked at Jeonghan and uttered something to him you couldn’t decipher as they removed their chainmail. You studied him intently, feeling the warmth in your chest welt into disdain and anger.

“What are you doing all the way down there?!”

You jumped, sensing your flesh bristle. Turning around, you saw Chan standing at the doorway with his brow furrowed, probably wondering why you never returned to the kitchen. Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you hurried toward him and away from the courtyard, praying that neither the Prince nor his friend heard Chan’s shouting.

“Was there somebody out there? Who was it?” Chan immediately pestered you with questions.

“There was no one.” You told him whilst entering the kitchen, heaving a great sigh of relief upon seeing your bread removed from the clay furnace, the bread perfectly golden and risen in small domes.

Chan seemed skeptical, but he knew you were infamously defensive, so he didn’t investigate.

“Have you started the pastry for the cherry pie?” You asked him after setting the grain aside.

“No,” Chan replied, “I heard it is a favourite of the Prince. We must prepare it attentively.”

“Of course. Now, ask that lady over there if we can use her pie pan. We will start immediately.”

In complete honestly, you’d rather prepare any other dessert – even the chocolate soufflés, which were arguably difficult to perfect. However, you yet again bit your tongue and helped the eager apprentice remove the pits from the ruby red cherries, which landed in a wicker basket just at your feet. Every moment or so, you were tempted to leave behind a pit, entertaining the tiny thought that it could be inside the slice served to the Prince. You knew if that happened, neither you or Chan would be allowed to return to the castle.

It wasn’t so much skin off your nose, but Chan would definitely be disheartened.

You made sure to thoroughly clean all the cherries.

The dining hall was absolutely packed. There were rows of young pages standing at the table, hardly able to contain themselves as they stared glossy-eyed into the fresh cooked meals and desserts. No one had sat down yet, not until the King and Queen took their seats.

The Queen, swathed in the long, shimmering silk of her violet robe, observed the hungry crowd gathered before her. She was an alluring beacon, just like a porcelain doll, and the sapphire gems embossed in her crown glinted against the central chandelier. As you were specifically requested by the royal family to cook, you were granted a seat at the table, in between your mother and an anxious Chan who kept stealing glances at the Prince, standing next to his father. You refused to look at Seokmin, even when you felt his gaze trace the side of your face.

Suddenly, the Queen grabbed onto a sumptuous chalice and lifted it high in the air. She began making a toast to the newly appointed pages, congratulating the start of their journey. You copied your mother and reached for a silver goblet next to your plate, which had been prefilled with cold, dark purple wine. Everyone applauded her speech. Then, the King took over.

It was hard to pay attention, until you heard a particular name leave his mouth.

“As we continue the great customs of our ancestors who built this impenetrable kingdom, a new fate has arrived for Prince Seokmin.”

You flicked your gaze toward Seokmin, your heart hammering in your chest. His father set a hand on his shoulder, covered by a velvet, royal blue robe.

“Our son is at the rightful age to marry. After ample negotiation with the neighbouring and prosperous village of Markarth, their Lord has granted permission to his daughter, Lady Adelaide, as a possible contender. She will visit us on the summer solstice. I am prideful, and honoured, to announce this marvellous news alongside the blessed anointment of our pages.”

Instantly, you felt lightheaded, and you had to place the goblet back down on the table in order to avoid spilling the expensive wine. You knew this day would come eventually, but to hear that an arranged marriage was already brewing left a horrible taste in your mouth. The King shook his son’s shoulder with an honest pride, though Seokmin simply pressed his lips together and dipped his head slightly, acknowledging the announcement. You felt sick to your stomach. The thought of eating your beef wellington rendered you unable to even look at its outer pastry.

“Let us not dismiss the efforts of our valuable cooks, who prepared this rustic meal.” The King continued, staring in your direction.

He then praised the name of your mother, you, and Chan in specific. Everyone’s goblet remained in the air. Their gazes smeared across your flesh like wet ash.

“Is there anything you would like to say before we commence our feast?”

Your mother was ready to speak, though you managed to cut in before her.

“P-Pardon me, your Majesty, I am unbelievably humbled to cook for you tonight, but at this time I wish to be excused from the dining hall. May I part?”

Chan turned to look at you as though your hair were entangled in flames, and your mother grew notably tense. The atmosphere in the room was awfully palpable, like a thick balm that made it difficult to breathe. You could feel the pulse in your fingertips. The King then lowered his head to the Queen, and they briefly exchanged a whisper, seemingly coming to a verdict they both agreed on. Asking to be excused from a royal supper seldom occurred, if ever.

“If that is your wish,” the King said, his voice stern, “then you may part.”

You stepped away from your chair, making sure to bow toward the royal family. Seokmin was staring directly at you, his face looking hardened, cold.

“Thank you,” came your tiny response, “I hope you are delighted by the food.”

In the centre of the royal garden was a magnificent water fountain that came alive at nighttime, small, paper lanterns floating in its pool and glowing a solacing orange. You lay on your back, atop the fountain’s wide stone ledge, listening to the gushing water and staring up at the crescent moon. Everyone was still eating inside the dining hall. When you listened very intently, you could hear the faint notes of the live music. You didn’t regret leaving the supper, but you did regret not stealing a tiny bread loaf or even some fresh blackberries from the fruit baskets.

Your stomach was aching, hungry.

Reaching down to tug up the side of your dress, you pulled out the beech wood you spotted in the grass that afternoon. You had wanted to carve something into its surface with your knife, though you weren’t sure what, and it definitely wouldn’t be possible until your mother returned the blade to you. As you held the smooth nature above your face and pressed your thumbs into its cream face, you were overcome by a new, frothing wave of anger. Seokmin was preparing to get married. The beech wood nearly split in two from your iron grip.

You hated thinking that at one point in your childhood, you genuinely liked the Prince, and harboured this flat-out embarrassing crush on him. So did everyone else, but Seokmin certainly didn’t help your malleable heart in pretending that he liked you back. You remembered it clear as day: Jeonghan, who was much smaller at the time, came bounding up to you, teeming with excitement and using his squeaky voice to tell you that Seokmin wanted to kiss you, and that you needed to meet the Prince by Peace River in the forest.

Of course, you obliged without even having to think, and your friends spent the whole morning twisting small bluebells and buttercups in your hair. When you arrived at Peace River, Seokmin was waiting for you, standing in a patch of sunlight that cut through the trees, wearing a long, silk red robe in addition to his silver crown. It was the most nervous you had ever felt in your entire life, and you remembered feeling dizzy as Seokmin gazed down at you with a sweet look in his honey eyes. The two of you leaned in closer, closer, closer…

And right when you felt his lips ghost yours, Seokmin took a step back and you heard a huge fit of laughter erupt from the thick brush in the background.

Seokmin’s friends came stumbling from their hiding spots, some holding their stomachs with how hard they were cackling, others wiping a tear from their eye, all whilst you experienced a shock bottom out in your gut. The realization that everything had been a ruse gave you a tough, metaphorical slap across the face. Jeonghan had to lean against a tree trunk as he gripped his stomach, and a familiar burn stung your cheeks upon remembering the words he coughed out, something along the lines of, “you truly thought the Prince liked you?!”

The worst part was that Seokmin didn’t say anything, he just looked at you sadly. Since then, your contempt for Seokmin blossomed, and he didn’t hesitate to bite back.

Not wanting to break the beech wood, you lowered it from your face and slid it back between the lace garter hidden beneath your dress. When you glanced at the moon, you noticed that a small, orange ball was floating above you. Sitting up, your eyes widened at the sight of numerous orange dots, glimmering all throughout the garden. You recognized them as fireflies, which had always been one of your favourite things about the night. Occasionally, you and Chan would catch the small bugs in mason jars and release them by Peace River.

One fluttered close to your face, so you stuck out your finger hoping it would land. But, out of nowhere, you heard someone walking in the grass and immediately plucked your finger away, instead peering through the moonlight where you spotted a silhouette. Once the figure came into the aurora of the water fountain, you felt your stomach drop. It was none other than the Prince himself. He was no longer wearing his royal robe, just a white poet shirt with the deep, v-shaped collar left unbuttoned, and some black capris. He wasn’t even sporting any jewelry apart from a silver bulb through his right earlobe.

“Why must you act with such blatant disrespect?” He was quick to scold you for leaving the dinner. “Could you have not sat down? Stayed out of honour and given your untouched portions to the beggars?”

You scoffed. “Do not ridicule me like one of your pages. I was asked to cook, and so I did. No more, no less.”

Seokmin huffed, blowing the black curls away from his eyes. “You were invited to eat as well.”

“I fulfilled my principal duty. There was no reason to stay.”

“You could have at least eaten something. A wedge of pie, a peach clove. For heaven’s sake, there was bread at the entryway.”

Unwilling to stay seated and argue, you stood up from the fountain and brushed off your dress, no longer paying attention to the fireflies that illuminated the garden. Of course you wished you took some food; your stomach was collapsing in on itself, though you would not admit it.

“Why are you so concerned with my meals?” You snapped. “Should you not return to your private quarters and get well rested for the summer solstice?”

After mocking his arranged marriage, you couldn’t bear to look Seokmin in the eye. For some reason, a lump got caught in your throat and you felt a hot surge push against your tear ducts.

“Judging by your poor temper, it is you who needs more rest than I.” The Prince shot back.

You couldn’t stand there any longer. Biting harshly into your bottom lip, you attempted to brush by Seokmin and exit the garden. Instead you would find the gateway and wait until your mother and Chan arrived before leaving the castle grounds. There was food back at the house anyway, you assumed maybe some milk pudding, or sunflower seeds. It wouldn’t satiate you, but at least quell the hunger pangs until morning. However, when Seokmin grabbed your elbow you immediately flared, releasing a sharp yelp as he held you in place.

“And where do you think you’re off to?” Seokmin growled, lessening his grip on your arm and leaning in close to your face. “Come with me. I must give you something.”

Peering into the Prince’s dark brown eyes, you snarled, “what?”

He was close enough that you could see the tiny scar on the bridge of his nose from when he and Jeonghan had chased each other with fireplace pokers. You thought about looking at his lips, pretty and pink, but refused to break eye contact. The Prince didn’t say anything, just tugged you through the garden, between the thorny rosebushes, the intricate strings of bleeding hearts, and huge pots of pastel, cotton hydrangeas. To your surprise, Seokmin guided you back into the kitchen you had occupied just a few hours ago.

Then, he opened a wood cupboard and pulled out a polished, bright silver tin, which he thrusted into your arms. You peeled the lid open and saw that the tin was filled with raspberry glazed Danishes, to which the fragrant smell of flaky pastry and berries caused your mouth to water.

“S-Seokmin, I—,” you were going to reject him.

“I am not doing charity work for you. It is the custom of our celebratory suppers to not let any guest leave unfed, or pained by hunger.”

He looked at you with a cold expression, and his tone deepened. “Now, you may wait at the front gate for your companion and mother. It is not your place to wander around my castle. I could have you arrested.”

You welcomed his threat. “I anticipate such a drastic measure if it ensures I’ll never have to see your face again.”

Seokmin didn’t look half as amused. He moved in close to your ear, his breath hitting your skin as he uttered inimically, “leave.”

During the walk home to your village quarters, Chan had already shoved an entire pastry into his mouth, licking the raspberry jam off his fingers. Your mother was eager to know who gifted you such an expensive tin alongside the Danishes. Not wanting to admit your confrontation with Seokmin, you churned up a white lie about how they were a present from another cook.

“Certainly?” She seemed quite surprised. “That is a rare gift. To my knowledge, tins with that level of embroidery are only seen inside the castle. Perhaps that cook quite liked you.”

At the early stretch of dawn, you felt someone grasp your shoulder and shake it roughly, until your eyes pulled open, groggy and blurred. You were sitting up in bed, looking bitter. Chan was next to you, and whilst he wore an apologetic expression, you could sense there was a degree of urgency to his actions.

“What’s the matter?” You hummed, digging the heel of your palm into your eye.

Just outside the windowpane, you could see the calm sunrise and feel the morning, serene warmth through the glass.

“Your mother told me to wake you, that we should head to the bakery immediately.”

As you stumbled around your bedroom, fitting on a pair of degrading, sandalwood slippers before patting your face down with cold water from the well, you were wondering why it was so important that you attend the bakery, that your mother would need to send Chan to fetch you. Still dressed in your nightgown, you left the house alongside the young apprentice and hurried down the quiet road, passing all the tiny markets and apparel shops. As soon as the bakery came into view, you gasped, for a pearl blue carriage was stationed outside, paired to a stallion with silk, white hair. It grazed at a patch of grass and honeysuckle.

There seemed to be a crowd gathered inside the bakery, which only further piqued your curiosity. Chan couldn’t help but stroke the horse’s brilliant fur, which glowed like an amber pool due to the sunlight. You had only taken a measly step or two inside the bakery until jamming to a halt. Right before your eyes, speaking to your mother across the counter was perhaps one of the most pristinely-dressed, elegant girls to ever grace your kingdom. Her dress was long and flowing, a dark green forest jade, accented with gold lacing and a slim pair of gloves that stretched high up her arms.

Chan appeared equally stunned, for he thudded into your backside and stood staring at the girl like she was a rare type of crystal. Almost immediately, you noted the petit, twinkling tiara sitting on her head. Before she could even introduce herself, you knew exactly who she was.

“Lady Adelaide.” You heard Chan whisper to himself.

It immediately dawned on you that the summer solstice had finally arrived. The second she noted your presence at the door, her congregation of guards stepped back, allowing her to approach you. Without a second thought you bowed your head politely. She smelled like fresh clusters of jasmine and her voice was harmonious.

“I apologize, it wasn’t my intention to startle you or your apprentice,” (Chan’s face flushed a shy pink) “I heard from a guardsman of mine that your mother’s bakery is nothing short of wondrous, and I knew I had to stop here before I meet with your kingdom’s Prince.”

You stuttered straight through your teeth, “t-that’s wonderful. P-Pleased, we’re absolutely pleased to serve you, Lady Adelaide. We will prepare anything you desire.”

“Certainly.” Chan agreed.

“I’ll have to spend some time looking over the pastries,” she said jovially, “right now, I am truly awed by how delicious everything appears. My decision will come shortly.”

“Of course.” You responded, rubbing your clammy palms against your dress.

Whilst Lady Adelaide carefully inspected each pastry through the glass, your mother had pulled you and Chan into the kitchen, where she made sure it was clear you show your utmost respect toward the kingdom’s potential princess. Chan still wore a sticky blush on his cheeks, and you could tell he would be about as useful in the kitchen that day as a rock.

“No matter what she requests, we shall honour her needs and prepare it.” Your mother said. “Remember, this could be Prince Seokmin’s wife.”

You felt a streak of envy and wanted to slap yourself.

Once Lady Adelaide made up her mind, your mother re-entered the front shop with a wide smile. Chan started washing his hands in the pail of fresh water.

“Why was I not born the Prince?” He huffed petulantly. “She is truly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Does everyone in Markarth have such a face?”

“Oh, cool it, would you?” Came your sharp response. “Our duty is to operate a bakery, not fall in love.”

You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, and you tried desperately to bite your tongue as you fastened on your apron and pulled up the sleeves of your nightgown. The young apprentice wasn’t lying, she was a true and glorious spectacle, one that would surely appease the King and Queen once they saw her next to their son. However, you weren’t keen on entertaining such a sight, and you dismissed it from your head whilst Chan went to the house front and helped your mother collect Adelaide’s dessert.

A week after Lady Adelaide’s arrival at the kingdom, you happened to find your pocket-sized carving knife inside a bakery drawer. You were absolutely relieved to discover it, and took advantage of your mother’s recent departure to slide it back against the garter belt wrapped around your thigh. For the time being, she was occupied at a different village, visiting her sister.

Chan worked on kneading a mound of sourdough, his sleeves rolled high up to his elbows and a cloth tied around his head, pushing back his growing brown hair. You decided to take a break from the kitchen heat, patting him on his shoulder just before you disappeared.

“Huh?” He mumbled, not bothering to look up from the dough, “where will you be?”

“Peace River.” You told him. “I will be taking a short swim.”

The piece of beech wood was already slipped inside your sleeve. Ever since Seokmin gave you that silver, embroidered tin, you placed it on your bedside table and stored the wood inside.

“Shall I fetch some extra help in the mean time?” Chan asked, lobbing the dough onto a wooden serving board.

“Sure. Why not ask your companion from the academy? Seungkwan is it?”

“Yes.” Chan nodded.

You picked your way through town until you arrived at the pathway that lead into the forest. The dirt was padded down by a century of footsteps, animal paws and wagon wheels, though the soft grass that grew next to it tickled up past your ankles and bloomed with small, purple flowers. You loved walking through the forest, hearing the noises of the village become increasingly muted, replaced by tree branches that gently rocked against each other in the breeze as well as the sweet songbirds.

Upon reaching the river, you sat down on a rock just in front of the grassy bank and pulled out your carving knife. The river created a bubbling waterfall, and whilst you took hold of the beech wood, deciding what to carve, you listened to the trickling sounds. Still unsure of what to scratch in the wood, you continued shaving down its edges until the piece lost its rectangular shape and became more oval. Once you were satisfied with its rounder appearance, you brushed the wispy flakes from your lap, deciding it was time to test the river.

You removed the layers of your dress until you were in nothing but your undergarments, the sunshine that rained between the leaves warm against your skin. After wrapping the beech wood into your clothing, you set the fabric behind a strawberry bush, though left your carving knife folded and sitting on the rock. The river water was cold, but not freezing, and for a few moments you stood knee deep with your eyes closed, allowing the quiet breeze and sunrays to mellow your heartbeat. Then you proceeded to wade in further, until the water lapped up against your chin.

As much as you longed to enjoy the cool river, there was one problem that arose after a few minutes of swimming.

You heard distant galloping becoming closer and closer, accompanied by the rattling of metallic armour and conversation. Not wanting to make your presence known, you paddled beneath the overhanging rock that created the waterfall, the downpour completely soaking your hair whilst the heavy scent of moss stuck to the stone. You were curious as to who could be arriving at the river. Carefully, you peeked around corner of the overhang.

You felt your blood turn to ice.

It was Seokmin and Adelaide. Her arms were wrapped around the Prince’s waist as he held onto the reins of his beautiful, caramel horse named Apple. You remembered the mare’s name because you were the one who suggested it as kids. Seokmin shook the reins once more, and Apple walked closer to the river, already beginning to graze at the sweet grass lining the bank. Seokmin seemed to be educating Adelaide about the river, though you really had to strain to hear what he was saying. He hopped down cleanly from the horse before assisting the Lord’s lady.

She was no longer wearing her jade dress, but a white gown with many ruffles at the skirt. Her eyes were wide and sparkling whilst she examined the forest. Seokmin set a hand on her waist, gesturing to something in the trees you couldn’t see. The Prince was standing in a patch of sunlight just like he did on that summer day when you were children, waiting to kiss you—well, more like humiliate you, but his amber skin still shone the same, and the way the light reflected off his broad, silver armour depicted just how much he’d grown since then.

Closing your eyes, you listened intently for his words.

“Everyone who visits this river is known to experience a beautiful sense of peace, and calm, hence, why it is known as Peace River.”

Adelaide pressed a kiss to Seokmin’s jaw. “I have never seen such a tranquil sight. Oh, Prince Seokmin, it’s beautiful!”

Whilst Apple continued nipping at the grass, Adelaide squatted down next to the river and let the water gush between her fingers, covered in opal and amethyst rings. She was crooning about how pretty the gems looked beneath the current to Seokmin, though you noted the young Prince wasn’t exactly listening. Something caught his attention – your carving knife, which you left sitting on the goddamn rock. Gulping heavily, you watched as Seokmin picked up the blade and inspected it closely. Immediately, you swam away from the corner when he began squinting around the clearing, as though he were attempting to spot the knife’s owner.

The worst part: Seokmin knew who that carving knife belonged to. He knew it was yours, for he offered it to you, a gift from his blacksmith, a few days before the horrible kissing incident.

When you gathered the courage to peer around the corner again, you saw Seokmin help Lady Adelaide back onto Apple’s saddle. He still had your blade in his hand, to which you watched in complete shock as the Prince ordered his horse onward, deeper into the forest. You cursed him relentlessly under your breath. That bastard, he just took your carving knife! When you only discovered its whereabouts no less than half an hour ago! Boiling with fury, you left the river, threw on the clothes over your wet skin, and marched back into town with your beech wood.

The next time you saw the Prince, you weren’t going to let him off easy.

It was the night of the Super Moon Festival.

Raised high amongst the depths of the vast, black sky was the crater itself, bright, shining, and larger than ever. A chilly wind had turned the air quite nippy, and whilst Chan sat next to you, tentatively sipping a warm jar of gold, apple cider, you were simmering in complete bitterness. You had always embraced each festival, especially the Super Moon Festivals, which promised ample fortune unto the kingdom in addition to a prosperous summer; however, that night you couldn’t force even the slightest elation.

Prince Seokmin still had your carving knife.

A great deal of folk had concentrated to the village square, where the celebration was most vibrant. Certain people had linked arms, dancing to the live music, whilst others were releasing paper lanterns of different colours and shapes into the night sky. There were plenty of drinking games, festive food, and buzzing conversations entangled throughout the square. You were shaking your leg, watching intensely as the Prince and his friends were gathered by an old wagon in the far corner, drinking tall tins of frothy ale, laughing loudly into the crisp, cool air.

Suddenly, Chan nudged your shoulder.

“Is everything alright?” He asked. “Why do you continue staring at the Prince?”

You peeled your gaze from Seokmin, though the contort of your features remained. Lady Adelaide was nowhere to be spotted. There were rumours that she would be arriving later, that the band would play a special slow song, just so she could share a dance with the Prince.

“I must speak with him.” You replied.

Chan wrapped his cold hands tighter around the apple cider, casting you a peculiar glance.

“Why is that? Has he done something?”

You knew you couldn’t wait forever. Seokmin’s tightknit ensemble didn’t look like it was going to thin anytime soon, and if you allowed the night to end, you would have missed your chance.

“Be right back.” You uttered sharply to the young apprentice as you rose from your chair, leaving Chan to sit alone with his drink.

He could only gaze after you in a thick confusion. It was definitely nerve-wracking to approach the Prince so boldly, especially when he was swathed by his closest friends, all whom lived inside the castle or carried high profiles in the upper scale village. You almost walked straight through a dancing couple on your march across the large square, though you tried not to let any crumb of doubt or intimidation thwart you from retrieving your carving blade. Without a word, you shoved your way between the muscular bodies, ignoring their surprised scoffs.

Seokmin’s eyes were almost as wide as the moon when you stood before him. He stopped leaning against the wagon’s tall wheel and left his half-finished ale on the ledge.

“Return it to me.” You stated simply, holding out your palm.

“Who the hell is that?” One of his friends chided, clearly not amused that you just pushed through their private celebration only to speak rudely at the Prince.

Seokmin’s brow furrowed. “Return what?” He responded.

His acting utterly irritated you.

“Do not behave so obliviously,” you barked, “come with me, now.”

Wrapping your fingers through the collar of his shirt, you attempted to pull Seokmin away from his companions. Understandably, they were not willing to lose their royal member so easily, which prompted Jeonghan to grab your arm. It came as a slight surprise to you when Seokmin snapped, “do not touch her,” causing him to withdraw his grip, his expression paling. The Prince ensured his companions that he would return soon, only to follow you down a quiet alley, away from the colourful celebration and boasting music.

Folding your arms over your chest, you glared at the boy.

“I want my knife returned.”

Straightening out his collar that you had noticeably crumbled, the Prince scoffed, a smirk trudging across mouth.

“You should not leave any personal property out where it could be discovered.”

“You knew it was mine and yet you still took it.”

“So you were watching me, is that it?” He had the audacity to smile.

In order to contain your fulgurant anger, you clenched your fists tightly at your sides.

“Indeed I watched you take it! Now give it back!”

“Do not get so ahead of yourself.” Seokmin flashed a devious smile, one you wanted to wipe clean from his snide expression.

He reached into his pocket, and beneath the frosted moonlight, you saw him reveal your precious carving knife. You traced his fingers as he unfolded the silver blade and admired the mahogany handle, etched with the smallest, intricate embellishment. If you were swift enough, you could snatch the knife from his hand, but you weren’t sure if the risk was calculated. The Prince gently pressed the pad of his finger to the point, hardly issuing any pressure.

“This did not always belong to you.” He stated simply.

“I know that,” you quipped, “but you decided to gift it to me. So it no longer falls under your property.”

Seokmin blatantly ignored your rebuttal. Instead, he folded up the blade and dared pocket it right before your eyes. You gaped at him.

“Why were you at Peace River?”

“What?!” Feeling completely bewildered, you couldn’t help the loud air of your gasp.

He asked again, “why were you at Peace River? Were you hiding somewhere?”

“That is not your business!” You barked.

Seokmin seemed to adapt your hue of disproportionate awe.

“It is not my business?” He took a step forward, though you didn’t shy from his advance. “I am your Prince. You shall answer what I ask of you.”

“Why do you care why I was there? Should you not focus on the wonderful time you had showing around your dear lady?”

The young Prince’s face didn’t exactly soften upon your reference to Adelaide, rather there was a subtle shift in the nuance of his gaze, where something murky tinted the surface. It was difficult to pinpoint, but you almost swore that mentioning Adelaide had made Seokmin unhappy. To make the matter more confusing, he was clearly examining your features, from the curve of your lips to the arch above each cheek, you were like a memory he could never lose.

Your heart started beating faster, and you felt dearly flustered.

“I-I was only swimming,” you answered him, “that’s all you must know.”

You hated your body for betraying you, for submitting, for twirling itself in a moonstruck loop at the mere thought of Seokmin needing to commit your face to memory. Wanting to feel angry again, you tightened your voice.

“Now, I answered your question. I have pulled you away for one thing and one thing only: my knife. I do not care that your blacksmith crafted it for you, that it was once yours before it was mine. You gave it to me. I want it back.”

“Mind your manners,” the Prince scolded, his eyes turning icy, less forgiving, “I cannot oblige when you create such a fuss.”

Digging your nails in deep to the fabric of your dress, you exhaled shakily.

”I am going to lose my temper, Prince Seokmin. I want my blade, now.”

He took a step toward you, so close you could smell the rich ale on his clothing. His voice had lowered an octave, to which you swallowed coarsely and had trouble locking eyes with him.

“First, you rudely interrupt my friends and I. Second, you speak to me informally, with no respect, not even bothered to fake it. Third, you drag me to this alley and refuse the command of your Prince to summon an ounce of manner. Clean your mouth, or forget the knife.”

Your jaw clenched, and you started to grit your teeth. Seokmin was not exactly fond of the fact that you wouldn’t make eye contact, therefore he placed a light hold on your chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting your head toward him.

“Look at me when I speak to you.” He growled.

A concerning heat infiltrated your body; however, gulping back the rage that burned against your throat, you pulled down his hand, looked straight into his eyes and hissed, “you do not deserve my manners, but for the sake of the situation, may I please have my knife returned, Prince Seokmin?”

He reached into his pocket.

“I am shocked someone so ill-mannered is permitted to live in this kingdom.”

Cocking your head to the side, you watched the boy reveal your carving knife.

“I could effortlessly say the same for you.”

Seokmin handed you the blade, studying you intently whilst you picked up the side of your dress in order to return your prized possession between the thigh garter. Even in the darkness, his cheeks had noticeably pinkened.

“Enjoy the remainder of your night.” You gave him an exaggerated, distasteful bow before walking down the alley, away from the village square. “Do not keep Lady Adelaide waiting.”

The young Prince didn’t bother responding, only chewed into his bottom lip as you disappeared from his sight, his heart beating uncharacteristically fast.

Somehow, you and Chan had ended up back in the royal kitchen.

It was in light of a specific request pitted by the King and Queen, in which they desired you to cook a delicious dinner for Prince Seokmin and Lady Adelaide as they enjoyed their umpteenth date together. You attempted to avoid the situation last minute by faking a dry cough and sore throat, though your mother was far too intelligent to let any elementary performances fool her, resulting in yet another attendance award at the castle. Chan was excited as usual, evident in the small curl to his lips whilst he cleaned his hands in a bucket of well water.

“I never understand you,” Chan said, “why are you never content to visit the castle?”

Tying an apron at your lower back, you simply huffed in response to the young apprentice, not willing to reiterate the whole spiel about your childhood mishap as well as the years of hatred that nurtured it. You knew you seemed ungrateful, stuck-up, but it wasn’t anyone’s business.

“It is not something to concern yourself with,” you told Chan, taking his place at the bucket of cold water, “I am going to cook their meal, and that is all. No more, no less.”

“When do you think we will receive their menu?” Chan asked.

“Whenever it is given to us.”

The royal kitchen was indubitably stocked with produce that could cater to any dish, it was just a matter of awaiting the particular meals Lady Adelaide and Seokmin were keen on eating. Still, you had to agree with Chan, there was an anxious density to the room whilst you prepared your stations, hoping that at least some form of authority would enter the kitchen to update you.

Chan opened a cupboard and found a burlap sack of cherries. He grinned, “do you think Prince Seokmin will want to eat cherry pie again?”

“Beats me,” you shrugged, “maybe he’ll desire a pineapple upside down cake.”

“That sounds complicated.” Chan admitted with a frown.

You chuckled, “he’s complicated.”

“Who’s complicated?”

Suddenly, the Prince appeared in the entryway to the kitchen, dressed in a long, garnet cape that draped around his shoulders, embroidered with a dazzling gold thread. His hair, usually left in its black ringlets, had been groomed neatly from his forehead. His crown looked heavy, precious and incomprehensibly expensive. Both you and Chan were stunned by his abrupt appearance, to which the apprentice dropped a pile of tins he’d been removing from a cupboard. They clattered across the stone floor, and his cheeks turned red.

Whilst the young boy quickly picked up each tin, you cleared your throat.

“N-No one. We were speaking about no one.”

Chan hurried to stand beside you, and he bowed immediately.

“Greetings, Prince Seokmin. Must I say it is a complete honour to cook for you and Lady Adelaide tonight. I shall put forth my best effort.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” Seokmin said, commending the boy’s display of respect, “I have arrived to deliver the menu Lady Adelaide and I would like to eat.”

The Prince then handed Chan a scroll, which had been tied shut with a tasseled, red string. As Chan busied himself in opening the paper to glean its request, Seokmin glanced you over from top to bottom. You shot him a transient glare.

Folding your arms over your chest and titling your head to the side, you announced, “we will bring your food as soon as possible.”

“Is everything well with you?” Seokmin inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Chan looked up from the unwound scroll nervously, clearly noting the palpable tension.

“Yes, Prince Seokmin. I feel brilliant.” Your tone was drier than chalk.

Some twisted part of you hoped that the Prince would pull you into the corridor, scold you for behaving so blatantly disrespectful, lean in close to your face with a fire that turned to glistering copper in his eyes. You wanted him to grip your chin like he did in the alleyway and demand you meet his gaze. In a bizarre sense, you craved to argue with him. However, Seokmin didn’t engage in anything of the sort, and a vacant feeling encompassed you whole.

“I must return to Lady Adelaide. We will be seated on the outdoor terrace, second level.”

“Yes, of course,” Chan chirped, “I will bring your appetizer shortly.”

“May it also be known that the furnace next to you Chan has not been properly cleaned from a previous service. Do not try to light any fire, or the residue could burn you.”

Chan glanced at the stove warily whilst you released an impatient sigh.

“You should really get going, sire. It’s never polite to make your lady wait.”

The Prince chuckled, and a bold smirk illuminated his face.

“Have you ever been left to wait, darling?” He asked, biting his bottom lip.

After blowing a tuft of hair from your eyes, you folded your arms over your chest and caught the young Prince in a piercing stare.

“Why must you know? I don’t kiss and tell.”

Chan had not a clue as to what sort of exchange was unpacking before him, he only knew that his presence seemed unbelievably trivial, like a dust mite. You couldn’t deny how satisfactory it felt to wind Seokmin tighter than a wire spool, attempting to snap him somehow, hoping he’d bite back brazenly.

His professional composure was teetering, you could see it. And yet, the Prince was able to sweep away his desires to bicker with you.

“Aren’t you such a well-behaved little girl?” He dug slyly, the backhanded compliment imbuing a strange rush in your blood. “I have no further business here. As I said, we are seated on the second level terrace.”

The second Seokmin parted, his beautiful cloak fluttering behind him, Chan nudged your shoulder with a big pout on his lips.

“Are you trying to get us banned from the castle? If so, you might just succeed.”

Stealing the scroll from his hands, you urged him to relax.

“Trust me,” you sighed, “I would get banned before any other soul here. Even before the cook who caused a fire hazard.”

You had great trouble focusing in the kitchen, and it seemed like your brain contained no interest in cooperating with the rest of your body. Chan noted your lack of composure and intervened on multiple occasions, a concerned expression covering his face.

It was stupid, shameful, but for an unbeknownst reason you could not stop envisioning Seokmin and Adelaide enjoying their supper together on the pretty terrace. You imagined his soft, attentive eyes tracing her lips whilst she spoke, his hand reaching across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear’s cusp, the evening sun dappling the sky golden and peach-rose. It lit a terrible feeling within your lower gut, a feeling that upset you beyond belief, made you want to run from the kitchen and bury yourself beneath mounds of bedsheets.

The thought of Seokmin marrying Adelaide, sliding that white diamond ring upon her finger, having to watch them parade around the kingdom completely and utterly in love; you hated it, and you kept losing your concentration as that bitterness consumed you.

“They seem to be enjoying everything.” Chan confirmed with a satisfied smile toward the end of service. He just returned after collecting their dishes. “At last, we can begin dessert!”

However, the boy quickly picked up on your temperate, distracted face.

“What’s the matter?” Chan grabbed your shoulder gently. “You look so upset.”

“I’m fine,” you dismissed him with an apathetic air, brushing his touch away, “will they be eating the cherry pie as you assumed? I have already prepared the crust.”

“Yes…” Chan leaned in rather close to examine your face whilst he hummed in response.

“For heaven’s sake, child—what are you doing?”

“S-Sorry,” he immediately backed away, “I-I thought—your eyes just looked so glassy.”

“I have already stated my wellbeing. Now, please get to making the filling so we may get this pie in the furnace.”

Chan grabbed the burlap sack of cherries from the cupboard and dumped them into an apple basket. He then submerged the basket in a water pail, making sure to clean the fruit until they were glistening and shiny. Together, you removed the cherry pits in order to create the sweet, sticky filling which smelled exactly like summer. Chan let you tend to setting the furnace flame whilst he leveled out the pies; however, you’d forgotten about the unusable furnace.

As you got down on your knee and reached into the underbelly of the oven with the starter flint, it was too late for Chan to make a reminder. Once the bright spark touched that mysterious residue, a gigantic flame bloomed forth and licked up the furnace walls. The second your hand felt such an incredible singe of heat, you released a loud cry and crawled away from the glowing oven, your chest heaving at the intense, searing pain that sizzled deep into your flesh. Chan was gobsmacked. He dropped the small butter knife in the pie filling and bent down whilst you tossed your head back, cursing at the pain.

“Oh God!” Chan looked paler than a snowflake. “Y-You have been burned! O-Oh no… this- this is awful! What should we do? H-Here—”

The boy helped you to your feet and brought you close to the water pail.

“Submerge your hand in this,” he offered anxiously, wiping away a bead of sweat from his forehead, “I need to alert someone of this. Are you okay? Do you believe you might faint?”

“N-No…” you gritted between your teeth whilst heavy tears streamed down your cheeks, “just get somebody – anybody. I-It hurts terribly…”

The boy rubbed your back as a sweet gesture before he left the kitchen.

“I shall return as quickly as possible! I promise!”

Unfortunately, Chan had sparse luck encountering anyone from the castle. The sole person he could think of alerting was Prince Seokmin. Whilst he was not eager to interrupt his dinner with the kingdom’s potential princess, Chan was far too concerned with your agonizing pain as well as the poor condition of your hand. He knew you needed medical assistance immediately, therefore he burst through the doors in a panic and stumbled onto the terrace, where Prince Seokmin and Lady Adelaide gave him a puzzled, somewhat undesirable look.

The young apprentice steadied his breath. Once he began informing them of the situation, he couldn’t help but note the overwhelming concern that engulfed the Prince’s face.

“I must know where the nearest nurse is located. She needs assistance and I promised I would return quickly!”

Lady Adelaide wiped the corners of her mouth with a cloth, and looked to Seokmin. Her eyes, brushed with a shimmering, metallic gold, widened beneath the evening light as the Prince stood from his chair and threw down his cutlery.

“You have left her alone? Where is she?” He questioned the apprentice.

Chan licked his dry lips. “P-Please, stay with Lady Adelaide. I-I just need to know wh—”

“Does she remain in the kitchen?” Seokmin interrupted him.

He stepped fairly close to Chan, the young boy tilting his head back in order to meet the serious gaze of the Prince. Admittedly, he felt rather intimidated.

“Yes, she is. But you mustn’t abandon Lady Adelaide. I can—”

“I will take care of her,” Seokmin replied sternly, “stay with the Lady if you wish.”

Without another word, the Prince pushed Chan aside and disappeared quickly through the terrace doors, leaving him alone on the beautiful terrace with Adelaide. She didn’t appear entirely thrilled to be abandoned in the midst of a romantic dinner, indicated by the uncomfortable expression that coloured her face. Instead, she tucked the hair behind her ears and pressed her smooth lips together tightly, staring out into the flossy, pink clouds, a calm breeze blowing through the air. Chan swallowed the rock in his throat, squeezing his hands nervously.

“I-I’m sure the Prince will return in due time.” He stuttered.

Lady Adelaide nodded, stiffened, unamused.

“I guess I will just have to wait.”

Standing at the pail whilst your marred flesh scorched beneath the water was a sensation unlike any other. Your bottom lip kept quivering, and your whole body trembled in an attempt to digest such an intense pain. Footsteps reverberated outside the kitchen, to which a hope flourished that a medical professional would be arriving alongside Chan – yet, the person who entered the room was completely disproportionate to what you’d been expecting. It wasn’t that you didn’t want his help, it was just going to be difficult to accept it.

Seokmin left his crown behind on a countertop and stood next to you.

“Let me see it.” He urged as your hand twitched in the water.

Rubbing your tears off on your shoulder, you rasped, “w-why are you here?”

“Because you’re hurt,” Seokmin replied firmly, “and whether you like it or not, I am going to look after this. You should have your hand beneath running water.”

“W-Where is Chan? I w-want him here t-too.”

“He remained with Adelaide.” The Prince sounded impatient.

“W-Why did you not stay with her? Why did you even come when you cannot stand me?”

Choosing to ignore your questions, Seokmin grabbed your wrist, pulling you to the back of the kitchen where he knew there was a well. Suckling back the thick tears and runniness in your nose, you let Seokmin guide your injured hand beneath the cold water he started pumping from the ground. It splashed onto the stone floor, trickling in all directions.

“S-Seokmin—,”

“Just keep quiet for one minute,” the Prince snapped, “I know that is strenuous for someone as verbose as you, but right now, allow me to take care of you, alright?”

For an unprecedented time in your life, you legitimately heeded Seokmin’s words and kept your mouth shut, deciding it was not worth the energy to act so bitter. Whilst the running water succeeded in cleaning any sediment from the wound, the sensitive flesh stung and flared to a degree that was impossible to ignore, leaving you unable to suppress any small sobs and whimpers. If not for Seokmin holding your hand beneath the water, you would have withdrawn it immediately.

You pushed your face into his chest, your tears wetting his clothing. Seokmin shushed you softly, attempting to keep you calm.

“I know it hurts, but you’re doing so well, okay? A minute longer darling, I promise.”

You felt Seokmin’s chin sit on top of your head, and you only pushed your cheek in further against his strong chest, smelling the faint concoction of a luxurious perfume on his amber skin. Somehow, the pain became more bearable when his honeyed voice touched your ears.

“H-Has it been a minute now?” You sniffled.

The cold stream of water that once gushed from the spout diminished. Whilst the floor was rippling with a wide, wet circle, your hand felt less seared, less like a piece of charred meat.

“Mmhm, it’s been a minute,” Seokmin said, “how badly does it still hurt?”

Glancing at the wound imbued an intense cloud of nausea.

“I-It’s throbbing, a-and stings. Should we not wrap it?” You blubbered.

Seokmin brushed his fingers along your warm cheek, removing the new tears.

“Not immediately, angel. If the flesh is too fragile, the cloth might pull up more layers of tissue when it is removed. There should be an ointment station, over here—,” the Prince placed his hand against the small of your back, and you followed him toward a counter, “if the correct gel is in here, my hope is that it soothes your skin. Afterward, we will wrap it cautiously.”

Your injured hand was shaking too much, so you had to grasp your wrist tightly in order to centre it to one place. Seokmin opened a drawer filled with small, glass ampules. He picked between them carefully until coming across the correct ointment, a clear gel that had a strong, plant-like scent when he pulled out the tiny cork. Smearing the glistening gel onto his fingertips, the Prince then asked to see your hand. Knowing it would sting, you clenched your teeth.

“I’m not being too rough, am I?” Seokmin asked, concentrating on softly massaging in the vital ointment.

Exhaling stiltedly, you shook your head. “It’s getting better, I believe.”

“This is quite deep,” he remarked, scooping up more of the gel, “why on earth did you use the furnace upon my instruction not to?”

“I was not thinking about the furnace.” You admitted, biting down into your cheek.

Seokmin couldn’t help but chuckle.

He had just finished applying the cool gel, which gleamed on your skin and sunk into the damaged tissue. Additionally, stuffed somewhere in the drawer was a compact spool of bandage that the Prince started unraveling, until he tore a perfect strip to delicately wrap around your hand. Your heart began racing and heat stippled your face as the boy finally looked up from the injury. His eyes were so unbelievably gentle, his lips the colour of roses. It reflected a painstakingly familiar memory, in which you could almost hear the river running in the background and feel the pleasant sunlight warm your arms.

“Then what was on your mind?” Seokmin questioned.

His voice was low, and he stared unabashedly at your mouth.

You didn’t think – you didn’t want to.

Instead, you pushed to the very back of your skull every malevolent thought you once harboured toward the Prince and shut your eyes, envisioning yourself within a dream. You pressed a short, soft kiss against his mouth.

There was a moment’s pause where Seokmin realized the situation.

Suddenly, he cupped the sides of your face in his tender hands, urging you forward again, his lips brushing yours in such a gentle manner that a shiver tingled down your spine. It was far from a single, fleeting kiss. Each time your lips pressed together, you would linger for a moment longer and fall deeper into the other, losing all sense of the world around you. A molten warmth expanded in your chest as you felt Seokmin’s tongue make a soft prod at your bottom lip, encouraging you to sigh blissfully into the kiss. He smiled at your quiet noises.

What was happening to you? You struggled to control your own functions. Seokmin was eliciting a powerful feeling that yearned for you to continue kissing. His slender fingers drifted from your face to your hips, and he pulled you tighter against his body, each kiss revealing the other’s burning want and secret desires. As you suckled slowly on Seokmin’s tongue, listening to him purr, there was a rich, unique taste of cider. It prompted you to think about dinner, about Chan who’d gone looking for a nurse, about Lady Adelaide.

As soon as her face entered your mind, something switched off inside you and your blood transformed into cold liquid.

“S-Seokmin,” you murmured, disconnecting the sweet pressure of your mouth to his, “I-I... I don’t think we’re in our right minds.”

Your eyes began filling with water whilst you gazed at his pink cheeks and the pretty swell to his lips. The boy grabbed both your hands with a concerned expression, holding them against his chest where you felt his heart beat.

“What do you mean, angel?” Seokmin whispered. He then planted a kiss much too affectionate against your forehead, in which your eyes only grew more watery. “I haven’t anything to drink if that’s what you’re implying.”

“N-No.” You shook your head and looked into his eyes, swallowing back the dreadful taste of pain, of a relationship you could never have, of a boy you could never have. “We cannot do this... t-this is not just...”

“Wait—” Seokmin stuttered when you pulled away from him, “where are you going? We can talk about this.” His voice trembled slightly, heavy with sorrow.

“Stay with me, please.”

But there was nothing he could say or do that would cement you to your spot.

An overwhelming wave of emotion surged through your body, and you knew you had to leave the castle grounds unless you wanted the royal family to see you explode into a mess of hot tears and incoherency. Whilst you slipped through the kitchen door, you bumped into Chan who just returned from the second level terrace, his eyes growing wide when he noted the dreadful shadow that hollowed your countenance. The boy swallowed thickly, for the next person to enter the hallway was Lady Adelaide herself, who did not look pleased at the wait.

“A-Are you o—”

“I cannot stay here,” you told Chan in a quick jumble, “I am going to the house. Please, take care of the dessert if you can manage.”

Lady Adelaide stepped aside, allowing you to escape the corridor.

Everything felt like it was collapsing around you.

It was nighttime as you sat in your bed, a candle flickering on the windowsill whilst you examined the neat bandages that enveloped your hand. You couldn’t sleep. Chan was sent home early from the castle by Prince Seokmin, and he attempted to check on you with plentiful knocks to the front door; however, you didn’t possess the right spirit to answer him and instead covered your teary face with the bedsheets until he left. You were infuriated at yourself for kissing the Prince. Inside, your heart felt mercilessly torn up and shredded.

Continuing to look out the window, you were intrigued by a fluttering, orange orb that eventually paused on the leaves of a tall sunflower. It was a firefly.

Quickly, you reached for the silver Danish tin on your bedside table and pulled out the carving knife in addition to the small, smooth disc of beech wood. It was difficult to make incisions in the wood with an injured hand, though you simply bit your lip and didn’t allow the pain to phase you. Making tiny scratches with the fine, sharp tip of the blade, you spent the next hour, maybe more, carving a tiny firefly into the beech wood. When you looked back into your drawer, you spotted a silver-beaded chain, and an idea instantly shaped in your head.

You decided to make the wooden emblem into a necklace.

From the kitchen, you could hear Chan speaking with a new ensemble of customers who entered the bakery, the sound of their abundant coins rattling across the countertop and the apprentice’s cheerful tone as he wrapped their food in wax parchment. You hadn’t spent much time behind the counter that day, for your mood was no better than a cat who’d just been stuck in a thunderstorm. Chan advised you to stay in the kitchen instead. Since that morning, you’d either been making loaves of banana bread or staring into space.

There seemed to be an unsettled atmosphere about the kingdom. Most if not always, it indicated there was a problem at the castle, some sort of dispute amongst the royal family.

Whilst you waited for the loaves in the furnace to rise, you put your head down on the work bench and gazed at the stone floor. You had never felt so off-kilter. The fact you couldn’t do much more than mush bananas and whisk together a batter only added to your melancholy. After burning your hand, you were rather useless in the kitchen, though Chan had a much politer way of wording it whenever you attempted to help him with anything the least bit complex. You wouldn’t be surprised if he replaced you with Seungkwan in the near future.

Once the aromatic, sweet scent of the banana bread thoroughly encompassed the kitchen, you checked on the tin and decided it was time to remove it. Letting the bread sit next to an open window, you heard more muffled conversation through the door.

Suddenly, Chan had slipped into the kitchen. His expression was awfully nervous, to which an unpleasant feeling began brewing your lower gut.

“Your presence is needed at the counter.” Chan said flatly.

“Why is that?” You smiled. “I thought you preferred me locked up back here until closing.”

When the apprentice didn’t return your warmth, you knew there was something wrong.

“You are really needed at the counter.” He urged. “I will cut the bread, okay?”

“O-Okay…” You responded in a puzzled manner, allowing Chan to slip around you and grab a butter knife from the drawer.

Walking out from the kitchen was equivalent to getting a slap in the face, a splinter between your toes, a hard poke in the eye – basically anything undesirable constituted the situation you just introduced yourself to. Prince Seokmin stood on the opposite side of the counter. It appeared as though he recently returned from a valley trip with a congregation of other knights, for he was dressed in his heavyset armour and Apple was tied to a post outside shop.

Seokmin brushed his hair back and smiled at you.

“I know you are surprised to see me, but—,”

“No no no,” you shook your head and gripped the counter tightly, your legs feeling like thin jelly, “you cannot be here, y-you cannot—”

“I have to speak with you.” Seokmin said.

Your eyes flitted toward a metal bucket sitting in the corner.

“Not right now,” you spluttered quickly, “I have to refill the water, for our kitchen.”

The Prince frowned. You were surprised he wasn’t swathed in his usual entourage, that his closest companion, Jeonghan, was nowhere to be seen. Whilst you scooped the bucket from the floor and rushed toward the bakery doorway, Seokmin knew you were only using it as an excuse to avoid him. What else could you do? Your heart was far too fragile.

“This is just as much an inconvenience to myself as well as you,” the Prince announced very staidly, “you know this conversation must happen. Why bother avoiding it?”

Seokmin followed you through the doorway, where Apple was grazing at a patch of honeysuckle in the grass. You refused to look back at him.

“Exactly! It is an inconvenience that can easily be avoided if you return to the castle.”

Marching behind the bakery, you threw the metal bucket on the ground and kicked it under the well, pumping it full of cold water. .

“I refuse to return. Not until we talk about what happened!”

“Maybe I do not want to entertain that idea!” You let go of the handle, instead whipping around, facing the persistent Prince. “It was a mistake! That’s it!”

Seokmin shook his head. “Why are you so hostile? Why can you never discuss anything without starting an argument?”

You didn’t bother suppressing your scoff. “Have you ever noticed the only person I treat with such hostility, is you? Has that ever crossed your mind, Prince Seokmin?”

“Of course I know!” He quipped whilst frustratedly dragging a hand through his curls. “It has always been that way! That is why I always have to scorn you, since you behave so bitterly!”

“There is no one but yourself to blame.” You hissed, sensing the water prickle at your eyes.

The Prince looked stunned, for his mouth dropped open. “You still hold onto that memory so vehemently?”

At even the slightest reference to that humiliating, summer day forever engrained in your past, the heat flooded your eyes and you were completely helpless to stop the first tear from rolling down your cheek. There was no doubt, since that incident your hatred for Seokmin had completely blossomed, and in response to your poorly controlled anger, the Prince was left no choice but to respond with just as much belligerence. The ground between you grew terribly thick brambles and spikes, until it was impossible to even be in the same space without getting hurt.

Yet, if your hatred was exactly what you claimed it was, then your kiss with Seokmin should have never happened. Hatred was merely a dark, sinister form of passion, and no matter what circumstance, passion always lived inside your heart.

Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of your dress, you shook your head. “You humiliated me in front of half the royal’s children! How could I ever dismiss that?”

The Prince furrowed his brow. “That was ages ago. We were exactly that: children. Children can be stupid and say stupid and do stupid things!”

“I just don’t understand why you pretended for so long,” you whimpered to Seokmin, tightly clenching your fists, “if you never even liked me from the start…”

“I-I wasn’t pretending… I just couldn’t… I-I…” The Prince struggled to elaborate.

Suddenly, he could no longer look you in the eye, and a raspberry tint flooded his cheeks. You gulped, a dizzying sensation infiltrating your head as you willed your heart to stop beating so vivaciously.

Seokmin took a step closer toward you, an anxious colour to his face.

“If you just let me explain what I came here to tell you,” he murmured, “then perhaps we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats so adamantly.”

You folded your arms over your chest and pressed your lips shut. The silence was daunting, but at the same time you realized the bickering would lead to endless circles.

The Prince summoned a breath of courage and met your wet stare.

“I refused the marriage to Lady Adelaide. She will return to Markarth before the sunset. I only told my mother and father this morning.”

Slowly uncrossing your arms, you blinked at Seokmin in complete shock.

“S-Seriously?” You stammered, sweat tainting your palms.

“I had to,” Seokmin sighed, his eyes trailing the grass, “because of what happened with u—”

“I did not ask you to refuse her as a bride!” You hiccupped, salt glimmering at your tear ducts. To be the reason the kingdom’s next marriage crumpled apart, you couldn’t bear it.

“I know you didn’t!” The Prince retaliated, his voice booming. “Do you not think I am already aware of the great misfortune and trouble my decision brings to our kingdom? I did not refuse Lady Adelaide because we kissed – I refused the marriage because I do not love her, and it would be an utter disservice to both of us if we cannot reciprocate our own hearts.”

You bit down strictly on your bottom lip. It absolutely boggled your mind that Seokmin felt no love toward Lady Adelaide, when everyone who saw her fell head over heels. Whether it was her beauty, wealth, or the perfect sweetness of her character, everyone in the kingdom had something positive to say in regards to their potential princess. Maybe you had not gelled with her in the same manner as everyone else, but you knew this marriage had been anticipated since the day Seokmin was born, and the fact such a monumental celebration would have to be pushed back created a recipe for tension.

The Prince set his hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly.

“That is what I had to tell you,” he spoke in a much gentler tone, “it was not my intention to anger you, or make you this upset. But I have to remain honest with myself…”

“W-What are you saying?” Sounded your trembling, unsteady breath.

The sunlight splashed into Seokmin’s eyes, igniting them in a blazing copper. You felt swelteringly hot as the boy brushed against your cheek with his fingers before he leaned in close to your face, still damp with tears. You couldn’t concentrate on anything apart from the low velvet of his voice and how sincerely he admired you.

“I’m saying that I’m in love with you.”

Just before you entered the cool balm of the river, you spent a few moments stroking Apple’s caramel mane and picking berries from the nearest thicket to feed her. For such a strong, firmly-built horse, she was delicate in nature, just as you remembered her from your childhood. You ran your palm along the coarse side of Apple’s fur, scratching lightly so her ears would twitch, before hearing Prince Seokmin lilt your name. When you looked to the river, you saw him grinning at you, his black hair soaking wet and pushed back from his forehead.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to stand there for an eternity?”

“No,” you replied, “I was just looking after your horse.”

“Trust me, Apple gets pampered more than I do.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally grabbed the pale lilac hem of your dress, peeling the material over your head and letting it fall into a ball on the grass. In nothing but your undergarments, Seokmin gazed at you fondly, watching how you carefully waded deeper and deeper into the river until your toes could hardly scrape the smooth pebbles. Afternoon sunlight spun between the canopy of leaves overhead, which dappled the calm peaks in the water, making them sparkle. Seokmin swam closer to you. He was truly breathtaking as the rays caressed his amber skin and danced in his eyes like a honey fire.

The boy’s fingers brushed your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist and drape your arms over his wide shoulders. He held you tightly, his lips forming a lovestruck smile.

“Will your anxious mother not worry as to why her son has been out for so long?” You couldn’t help but tease him.

“I told her I would not be back for supper. At worst, she’ll send Jeonghan as my scout.”

“Do you think he could keep his mouth shut if he saw us together?”

Seokmin titled his head back with laughter, and you could see his perfect rows of teeth. “I have little certainty,” he admitted, “but Jeonghan would keep a secret if I forced him to.”

“That is reassuring to hear.” You replied with a smirk.

It was best to give the kingdom ample time to recover after the displeasing news of Seokmin’s cancelled marriage with Adelaide rapidly spread. She was supposed to be his first choice, his destiny as the King and Queen preached with every ounce of their souls. Furthermore, the royal family would definitely not be mirthful to discover that Seokmin had rejected Adelaide because his heart beat for a childhood crush from the lower village. That was unheard of, unfathomable, and rather unorthodox, which caused you and Seokmin to keep your relationship a secret.

At times there was pressure, there was great difficulty and frustration, but neither you or him could keep away from each other. You didn’t have to be married, or live in his sumptuous castle where everything was either expensive silk or encrusted with some sort of precious gem. It was quite simple: you just wanted to be with him – the environment wasn’t important. When you began seeing each other, you realized that on the summer day of your childhood where the Prince had humiliated you was a shtick orchestrated by his friends.

In actuality, Seokmin always had a crush on you, though at the time, the tender strings of his heart were easily pulled by them, and what could have been the start of a relationship ended up in years of bickering, unnecessary hatred, and repressed emotion. Cupping a hand against Seokmin’s damp cheek, you leaned in to kiss him softly. You smiled against his mouth upon feeling his hands squeeze your thighs.

“Can I give you something?” You then asked in a quiet voice.

The Prince nodded, allowing your feet to touch the pebbles again.

“Of course, angel.” He complied.

Together, you left the river. Whilst Seokmin started petting Apple’s shimmering coat, you picked up the dress on the forest floor and reached into one of its pockets, brushing the beaded chain with your fingers. When Seokmin turned around and saw you holding a necklace, his eyes lit up in a marvelous fashion and an endearing smile beamed from one corner of his mouth to the other. It was the beech wood necklace, in which you had carved a small firefly in order to complete the pendant.

“I carved this from a piece of wood I discovered outside your castle, on the day Chan and I had to cook for the pages. At first, I had no idea what to make of it, but then I decided on a firefly.”

Seokmin admired the pendant up close. It felt wonderful to see him examining it with such an appreciative light in his gaze. The Prince connected the chain around his neck, to which the wooden oval sat between his prominent collarbone.

“I-I thought I should gift it to you. And, whenever we must be apart, you can just think of this necklace, and the comfort that comes from a firefly’s glow.”

Suddenly, the boy’s hands were atop your hips. He pulled you in close against his body, still gleaming with water droplets, and pressed a deep kiss to your lips. You could sense just how much ardour and warmth was laced into the contact, and a dense heat scattered beneath your cheeks. He tasted like the sugar powder and strawberries you ate before visiting the river.

“It’s beautiful.” Seokmin whispered.

He pecked your mouth again sweetly whilst you felt a gentle breeze blow throughout the forest, causing the tiny hairs on your damp skin to stand sharp. You cozied yourself closer into Seokmin’s chest, smiling like a foolish romantic at his words.

“Thank you, my love. I will hold onto it forever.”

✧✎ a/n: okay when i started writing this i THOUGHT it was going to be so short, like at most 4-6k, but then i was at the 6k mark, only halfway done, and i realized it was going to be another ‘wish’ situation lol. i’ve never written a royalty!au before so i felt like i was reaching into the dark a little bit jsefhwef but i hope it was still pleasant! as always i treasure all ur guys feedback so pls don’t hesitate to leave ur th0ts!! i haven’t written for seok in ages and it felt super nice to give him a lengthy fic! contrary to nobody’s belief - this was not inspired by owl city lol.

#seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen seokmin #seokmin scenarios #lee seokmin #seokmin angst #seokmin fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt x reader #enemies to lovers

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llogllady99 · 3 years

Text

Au revoir

CHARACTERS | Levi, Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Kuchel

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi, Mike x Nanaba, Petra x Hange

GENRE | Reincarnation, Smut, Romance

IV | Alternate Universe- Reincarnation. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Smut, Angst and fluff and smut, French Levi, Student Levi, Writer Erwin, Light angst, Alternate Universe - Coffee shops.

Summary | “Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.“

Levi.”

Erwin and Levi meet again in the modern world.Series

Levi will never admit to anyone that he thoroughly enjoyed reading romance novels. Yes, they were a bit too cheesy for his liking and maybe some of the passage were kind of forced, but the way they made his stomach drop and heart flutter was enough to keep him buying one novel after another. His first novel of such kind was: Madame Bovary, a book which he stole when his mother was away at work. At the green age of 12 Levi hid in the house’s library, right behind the couch and began absorbing the words hungrily, gaping and gasping in shock whenever Emma’s affair with Rodolphe or Leon would appear in the book. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the story as it was quite bland compared to the romcoms he and his mother would watch on Sundays, but was instead mesmerised by the rose scented perfume that lingered among the pages, a phenomenon which he didn’t encounter in other books because, as his mother told him later, Madame Bovary had been a vessel for Kuchel to deliver her love letters to the post office back when she was younger.

Coincidently, Levi was now holding the same book, enjoying it with a little more fervour and fascination as he himself, in his twenty-one years of life, had experienced some form or pretence of love at some point with maybe two or three of his lovers. Wetting his finger he turned the page and finished what was left of the chapter he was currently reading. He let the book down and stared out the window of the train he was embarked on in other to return to his childhood home: Marseille, France.

Levi remembered his past life. This life had treated him extremely kindly, almost as if the universe was apologising for the hell it put him through the last one. He was born and raised in the countryside, his childhood being characterised by stealing from vineyards, scraped knees, and dirty faces, a fun and ideal childhood. His mother, although having gone through a divorce when he was small, was now well and alive, indulging herself with a quality lifestyle and relaxing hobbies; his home forever full of jamon, quality wine, fresh sea food, and oil paintings in easels adjourning his hilltop village house’s balcony crowded with red boungainvillea. He had met Hange and Petra in the same village at the sea on a hot summer’s day, introducing himself brusquely, startling the girls, who lacked even an inch of recognition for him in their eyes. Levi quickly realised that not everyone remembered their past life and as such he should keep quiet. Nonetheless, the three quickly became inseparable, their bond not destroyed but only slightly deterred when him and Hange left for university, leaving Petra back home alone. Levi had left to study architecture at the university of Sorbonne and Hange to England to study Medicine at the Imperial College of London, surprising both herself and her friends when she had only applied at the university on a whim not even half expecting to get accepted, but she was the smartest person he knew and if anyone deserved it then it would undoubtedly be her.

Apart from them, Levi had not encountered anyone else from his past life, and by anyone else he only meant Erwin, his blonde, tall, and handsome commander. It was a disappointment that after so much time he still hadn’t managed to meet him, one which left him with an enormous hole in his stomach that would only get bigger every time he allowed himself to think about his past lover. He eventually lost hope and stopped looking for him all together. He had not told Hange and Petra about him however, instead choosing to keep his existence and unsuccessful search all to himself. After all, it is simply expression that gives reality to things. Never mind the fact that he would sound batshit crazy, but if he would have opened his mouth and openly voice the fact that he had not found him yet, then there would have been chances of not meeting him at all. He was still clinging to a thin thread of hope that Erwin will keep his promise of them reuniting again eventually.

At once, the train pulled in Marseille’s train station with a deafening horn, its locomotive letting out clouds of white vapour that swirled fast up in the azure sky, and announced its passengers that they have reached their destination. Levi stepped on the platform, and dragging his black suitcase behind him, he inhaled the fresh country air as a warm feeling came over him. He had arrived home.

On the other side of the globe, free lance writer Erwin Smith was packing his suitcase hurriedly, throwing clothes chaotically in his suitcase. He was terribly late for his flight.

Summer always turned unbearably hot in Miami, the dry heat and the omnipresent smell of sweat managing to deeply irritate Erwin. That had been his initial plan for the summer: change shirt after shirt as he walked the road from his apartment, a small 2 bedroom space that lacked air conditioners and that would turn into a literal oven during the hotter months of the year, and his publisher. Therefore, when Mike and Nanaba invited him to celebrate together their anniversary in Marseille, France, he didn’t hesitate to agree, he actually did with so much desperation that he worried even himself. He had quickly called his publisher making up some shitty excuse to extend his deadline, spattering something about how the sweet mediterranean breeze will to wonders to his inspiration. He lied, and quite horribly so, he had finished the chapter he was due but hadn’t edited it yet, a chore which he assigned himself for when he would return. Quickly closing his suitcase and praying that he didn’t leave everything behind, he ran out the apartment and waved his arm frantically in the direction of a cab that happened to be passing by.

Erwin also happened remembered his past life, something he cursed and treasured at the same time. He treasured the memory of Levi but cursed whenever he would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat screaming as he felt the phantom pain from when he lost him arm, something that had somehow followed him into this life also. Just like Levi, Erwin also learned that not everyone remembered their past life. His first such experience had been when he woke up screaming when he was small due to a very unpleasant memory, one filled with titans, blood and the death of his comrades. His father had come to comfort him but dismissed everything as just a nightmare that sprouted from Erwin’s wild imagination. At the age of 16 he started writing everything he remembered before being reincarnated and then at the age of 24 after graduating from university he published a book retelling his story. Society, just like his father, quickly dismissed it under the false and shallow pretension of fiction. Erwin didn’t mind, and at an interview when he was asked what had inspired him to write such a masterpiece, he simple answered: “It’s as if I’ve lived this life before”. In retrospect, a bold statement, but one that had triggered incredulous looks and nervous laughs. It didn’t matter, as long as he was the one that knew the truth.

At the airport, he was met with a very angry Nanaba, that proceeded to punch him in the shoulder as soon as she spotted him coming through the automatic sliding doors, dressed with cargo short pants, white t-shirt and one of those hawaiian shirts, espadrilles not missing from completing his outfit. He apologised and shook Mike’s hand, that came up from Nanaba, trying to calm his petite lover from ending Erwin’s life then and there. His friends, like everyone else he had become acquainted with in this life, did not remember their past lives. They had met in college when he tried to hit on Nanaba and earned himself a punch from Mike, who apologised shortly after and bought him a drink.

“You are well aware we’re going to France, right?” Mike eyed his outfit, and scrunched his nose in something close but not quite to disgust.

“The eccentric writer facade ain’t holding up anymore, you seriously need to change outfits.” Nanaba also joined in.

“I was up writing, thence the messy outfit. I do actually have fancy clothes packed.” Erwin retorted, trying to save himself from their scrutinising gazes.

“Good, because I want to enjoy some of those pretentious wines they’re so famous from at one of those expensive terraces that overlook the sea without wanting to crawl under the table from being seen with a hobo like you. Now come on, plane’s not waiting for anyone.” Nanaba flipped him off, her way of reprimanding him.

“Au revoir America, bien venue France!” Erwin exclaimed, mixing french with english.

“How much did it take to learn those?” Mike asked, amused.

“Only 3 thorough Duolingo lessons, of course.”

Levi pushed the door of the little vintage cafe open and was immediately met with the sight of Hange engaging in quite a heated make-out session with Petra. His arrival at home yesterday was met with nothing more than pure joy, as he was bombarded by his mother’s kisses as soon as he walked into the house. They spent a quiet evening on the balcony, enjoying some tea and simply talking the evening away. It felt good to return, he missed the salted air, the chilly breeze, the pink flowers and green bushes, and the exquisite view of the mediterranean sea. Later, when the mosquitoes had started to annoy them, Levi and Kuchel retired back inside the living room, where he was urged by her to play her favourite piece on the piano that had dust on it from never being used anymore. Upon the arrival of the next day, Levi headed to Petra’s cafe, a small vintage shop, which she had opened up quite recently after successfully raising the funds necessary. It was right in the middle of the hill, its glass windows giving a clear view of the stony road and orange coloured walls and roads of the city.

“You guys should get a room, it’s gross.” He said, not one bit of disgust lacing his words. He truly was happy to see his friends again.

“Levi!!!!!” Hange squealed and broke away from Petra, practically jumping over the counter before she threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Petra’s behaviour was hardly any different, surging on the other two and tumbling all three of them down to the floor. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the first customer of the day arrived with an awkward cough to get their attention. For the rest of the day, they chatted quietly, each with a cup of special Petra coffee in their hands, reminiscing about old childhood memories and the things they did while they were apart. Hange had successfully landed an internship at a renowned research company back in London and Petra bought her first place, somewhere they would surely go after she closed the cafe.

“So how’s it going for you Levi? You seeing anyone?” Hange interrupted a peaceful silence then took another sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, no not really. I guess I’m still waiting for the right person.” Levi replied, his mind drifting off involuntarily to Erwin.

“That’s a pity, tell him Petra!”

“I guess so.” The strawberry blonde sighed, scrubbing the counter. She looked troubled, stressed if Levi knew any better.

“Everything all right?” He asked, hoping she would tell him what was bothering her.

“Theoretically yes, the cafe’s been growing in popularity and the number of costumers has increased exponentially and it has become harder and harder for me to keep up. It’s afternoon and I’m already exhausted.”

“Hire someone to help you.” He offered.

“I would have, I even put up a sign a while ago asking for help, but it’s summer and you know how it is. Everyone would rather bathe than work.” Petra leaned on the counter, huffing exhausted.

“You know, Hange and I could help you if you’d like, until the summer’s end and till you find someone.” Levi scooted over closer to Petra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure! There is nothing we’d rather do, Pet.” Hange joined in, assuring her girlfriend.

“You guys, thank you.” Petra smiled brightly, exhaling in relief.

Their first day in Marseille had been spent at the beach until they were all fried. Well, Erwin had managed to get a nice tan, save for the red slight burns on his shoulders, those didn’t count. Nanaba had made sure to use sunscreen, but with her pale skin tone, she had turned into a lobster by mid afternoon. Deciding that it was enough sun for today, the three settled on exploring the city, in particular the ports, where smell of fresh caught fish would imbue their noses, the hill village, the sights recommended on the internet, like the colourful Noailles Market, Musée des Civilisatons de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, and following a maniacal Nanaba that sprinted through every shop in La Panier.

As six o’clock came by, hunger made its presence known in their stomachs, they started searching for a restaurant. With an immense amount of luck and without too much time spent looking, the three had found themselves in Restaurant Peron, escorted to a four persons table right next to the clear glass that provided them with an extraordinary view of the sea, admiring the calm relentless waves and snow white moon that reflected itself on the clear water. When the waiter came, Erwin ordered, putting on his best french accent.

“Un Ricard, s’il vous plait.” He managed to make a fool out of himself, sounding exactly like an ignorant American. Un Ricard was an alcoholic beverage made with aniseed and spice that turns an enticing shade of yellow once water is added, a local must try. Nanaba ordered herself an Aperol sprits and Mike a whiskey on the rocks. The waiter bowed and went to get their drinks. While they waited the three engaged in casual conversation, their voices accompanied by the low murmur of the sea and other people’s conversation.

“I believe this has been quite a successful weekend, don’t you think, honey?” Nanaba asked Mike, leaning her face on her hands.

“Indeed. Happy 5th Anniversary, Nanaba!” Mike kissed her cheek tenderly. Erwin watched the display with nothing more than pure envy. It wasn’t fair that they had found each other despite not knowing their past life, it was utterly infuriating and it made Erwin seethe with anger and frustration, both emotions directed more at himself because he had not found him yet, Levi, his lover, his everything.

“Excuse me, monsieur. I brought the drinks.” The waiter interrupted them, making Erwin forever grateful as he was not sure how much more he could bare. He bowed and retrated, leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The Ricard Pastis Erwin had ordered had a creamy texture and yellow colour, bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted it, immediately scrunching up his nose from how strong it was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, god knows his college years hard served for so much, so many nights spent drowning vodka and absinth bottles, he just hadn’t expected it to be so strong, he thought it would be like Nanaba’s Aperol, slightly bitter and sweet. Mike was sipping slowly on his whiskey and asked:

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“How about we stick to just visiting the town, my skin can’t take any more sun.” Nanaba proposed, hinting to her burnt shoulders that were covered with a very nice white blouse. Mike and Erwin both agreed.

Levi fumbled with the speakers’ wire trying to get them to connect with his phone. It was his first shift today together with Petra, Hange will come later tonight to take his place, something completely unnecessary as he would stay anyway. It was his turn to choose the playlist and he resorted to a simple jazz playlist that would blend in nicely in the background acting as white noise. Once that was settled, he wrapped around himself the black apron with the shop’s logo on it and went up to the counter, patiently waiting for the first costumer.

Their second day in Marseille was spent indulging in even more sightseeing. Nanaba woke them up at the crack of dawn, excited and completely oblivious to Mike’s and Erwin’s sower moods, dragging them with her to their first destination: Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde. Located in a breathtaking hilltop, this spectacular church is the most important landmark in Marseilles. The site was used in ancient times as an observation point, and during the Middle Ages, was the location of a pilgrimage chapel. Erwin enjoyed the renaissance architecture, admiring the big hemispherical dome with a big golden cross on top of it, the golden statuette of what he reckoned was Virgin Mary, the symmetrical high arches, and smaller, little angel statues. It was truly a sight to behold. Their next destination was also a historical landmark: Abbaye Saint-Victor, a house of worship once belonged to an abbey founded in the 5th century. The abbey's basilica is one of the oldest buildings in Marseilles that is still intact, with foundations dating back to Early Christian and Carolingian times. With its crenellated walls and towers, the foreboding exterior has the feel of a medieval fortress. Inside, the basilica reveals a simple and somber design, which gives it a special aura. The crypt houses sarcophagi of the 4th and 5th centuries, as well as the 11th-century tombstone of Abbot Isarnus. It fascinated Erwin immensely, so much so that he filled his gallery with the amount of selfies and normal pictures he took.

He lied when he said he would find his inspiration here, but he was not so sure that it was true. The city’s architecture and overall way of being, from the local’s lifestyle, to its history and vibe, Erwin was sure to use all of this while working on his new book. Wether he would add a spin off in the book, or make references and parallels to everything he saw here.

It was now mid-afternoon and Erwin was exhausted, the sun constantly warming his head had not done a great job of comforting him in the slightest. They were now in Le Panier again, Nanaba having decided that she did not see all of it the day before and that it was absolutely mandatory they go again. Not wanting to be a burden, although he would have much rather gone to his room, Erwin agreed and set on following closely the two before him who were very much engrossed in their own little world. The old town, like any other part of Marseille they had visited, was also magnificent, with its romanesque architecture, houses that were colourful and joined together, and paved streets. It also housed a lot of shade, making him able to cool down and gather up whatever strength he had left.

The thirst he had tried to ignore for the better part of the day had become unbearable, his throat dry like a desert. As such, Erwin made it his mission to find some place from where he could purchase a water bottle. They passed by jewellery stores and artisan themed shops, displaying their handmade products, like dresses with weird designs from cottons, crystals, wooden scultpures, etc. Finally, in a corner, they had found a small cafe: Haricots vapeur de Petra. Quite a long name for a cafe but who was he to judge. He asked Nanaba and Mike if they wanted to join him but they quickly refused, instead choosing to go ahead. Erwin announced them that they will be seeing each other at the hotel before dinner. That way he could spare a few hours relaxing at the small tables placed outside the cafe, enjoying whatever drinks they were serving. He pushed the front door open and was immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee. The cafe was very nice, inside was quite chilly as there was the air conditioner blowing. Its walls were made of brick, from them hanging several plants, portraits, and drawings of people having coffee and the like. It had small circular tables with purple plush chairs that contrasted perfect to the black counter that housed pastries of all kinds: croissants (of course), pains au chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and macarons of all kinds of colours. It was just like an ordinary American cafe.

“Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.

“Levi."

“Levi.”

That voice. It couldn’t be could it? Levi refused to look up, he was imagining things, it was because of the song, the song he played the man a life time ago. We’ll meet again was playing through the cafe’s speakers, it was only natural he would be thinking back to when he visited Erwin’s grave one last time. With his hands now shaking he continued to clean the glass even more frantically, wiping away inexistent water, droplets he imagined were still there.

“Levi, is that you?” Once would be considered a coincidence, but twice? Finally, the raven haired boy looked up, only to have his breath stuck in his throat. Right in front of him was Erwin freaking Smith, the man he loves even to this day, the time spent together and the promises still so fresh in his mind. Erwin had kept his promise, he found Levi.

“Erwin.” Levi croaked, overwhelmed by emotions. He ran around the counter, stopping for a moment in front of his lover to look at him again. Erwin was exactly the same, except for an almost unnoticeable tan, his hair was now sitting comfortably on his forehead, instead of being styled back with gel. Levi jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the other's waist so tight, afraid to let go as he might disappear, proving only to be a figment of his imagination. He buried his face into Erwin's neck, inhaling the scent of cologne, sweat, and sunscreen. His lover snaked his hands around his waist and held him tightly, in the same desperate manner. Pulling away, Levi looked into his eyes again, relieved to see the same warm sapphire blue orbs staring right back at him. They were whole again, together again. Unable to hide his excitement anymore, the raven brought their lips together in a kiss, one in which they poured all of their emotions, the longing, love, and relief they had for one another were all present.

“Tu m’as trouvé!” Levi pulled back, out of breath.

“English please.” Erwin chuckled, running a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his year before putting him down. Levi looked at him in confusion. If Erwin didn’t know french then that meant…

“We should perhaps talk. Wait here for a moment please.” He told him, pulling his hand away from where it was intertwined with the other’s. Taking a step back, he began untying his apron, then turned on his feet to head to the back where Petra was, baking pastries probably.

“Petra, can you cover for me? Something came up. Hange should be here soon, I hope you don’t mind.” At the sound of his voice, Petra turned around just as she was leaning down to grab the tray with freshly baked pastries from the oven. She searched his face, noticing the look of bewilderment, and made to grab his arm in comfort. Levi pulled away.

“I’ll tell you later, but please let me go!” Levi all but begged, making Petra shake her head with wide eyes as she still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Call me if anything happens.” She demanded. Levi thanked her then bolted out back to the front of the cafe where Erwin was waiting awkwardly in the door, never actually having left the spot. As soon as the blonde spotted him, he offered the other the usual warm smile.

“Why don’t you speak french, Erwin.” Levi asked him and gestured for the other to follow him out the cafe. Once outside they started walking on the direction of Levi’s house, unbeknownst yet to Erwin.

“I’m actually a tourist.” Erwin murmured, understanding finally the graveness of their situation.

“Where are you from then?” Levi croaked, his disappointment taking the best of him.

“USA, came here on vacation with some friends.”

“Américain.” Levi spat, his frustration finally showing. “How are we going to make it work Erwin?”

“I don’t know Levi, I believe that’s a problem for another time. I’m here for another week, let’s enjoy ourselves shall we?” Erwin took his hand and kissed it in an assuring manner, smiling again.

“Okay.”

And enjoy themselves they did. Making sure that Kuchel was out, Levi brought Erwin to his house, taking him through every room while he talked about his childhood, his vocabulary limited because his english wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Erwin was patient and didn’t push him, instead helped him by filling in the gaps with google translate or by using his own words when he understood the direction the story was headed in. At some point, they stumbled upon the piano and the blonde urged him to play it, Levi complying not only by second nature, thinking involuntarily to their time on their battlefield, but also by desire, pouring his heart and soul into each and every key he pressed, eliciting sounds that would later formed the master piece named Canon in D major. Erwin listened intently, absorbing every sound Levi produced, his gaze focused solely and completely on him. His lover playing the piano was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The onyx black hair hung loosely in the air as Levi played, his brows furrowing in concentration, and shoulders tensing when he lifted each hand over the keyboard.

As the song came to an end, unable to hold himself back anymore, Erwin scooped Levi up in his arms and brought him to the couch, the other straddling his waist. It was all too much, the smell of Levi, the feel of Levi, the smooth alabaster skin, silky hair, minty breath, and citrus smelling musk. Levi, Levi, Levi. Erwin brought their lips together in a heated kiss, introducing his tongue shortly after, probing the entrance then entering fully. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed like teenagers, running their hands through each other’s bodies, remapping and rediscovering them. Slowly, Levi became more demanding and started to undo Erwin’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders and caressed his hand over his chest, playing with the curly strands of blond hair that lined it, although scarce. He then kissed his neck and clavicle. All the while, Erwin had been undressing Levi, his fingers now at his entrance, working slowly but steadily their way in. In his arms, the raven writhed, low moans filling the room.

Done with the stretching, Erwin positioned himself at the other’s entrance, entering him slowly as to not hurt him. Once he was fully seated, he waited for Levi’s signal to move, a slow nod in the pit of his neck shortly after. Their rhythm was slow at first, an occasion to feel each other out, but as their moans got louder in volume, the pace, inevitably increased, turning the love making session into something more rushed and more carnal. They had all week ahead of them, they had plenty of time for slow and passionate love later. After a few more minutes each of them reached their climax, Levi first by tensing all of the sudden, his mouth open in a silent scream, then Erwin shortly after with a low groan. The smaller of the two slumped his forehead against the other’s chest and tried to recover, his panting waning.

“I love you.” Erwin brought his lover’s head up and looked him straight in the eye. Levi replied with a lop-sided me too before retaking his position in the crook of his neck, where he shortly passed out, the physical and emotional effort from the day finally taking their toll on his petite frame.

For the rest of the week, Levi showed Erwin the rest of Marseille, taking him sailing with Petra and Hange, snorkelling in the turquoise water, dining in other less famous restaurants that harboured a magnificent view nonetheless, and hiking. Levi also got to meet Nanaba and Mike, a meeting that was awkward at first but then turned casual as the chemistry they had in their past life never had quite gone away. It was now their last day, and they both chose to organise a brunch on a boat Erwin offered to rent. It had started out great, the interactions between the rest of the group going smoothly, but as night inched closer, Levi grew significantly more and more upset. The reason, revealed to him that night when they were alone, tucked in bed together, was none other than Erwin’s departure. It was time to say goodbye, their short week of heaven brought to an end by force of circumstance, a tragic end to an equally beautiful story. A soulmate who was not meant to be, at least not in this lifetime. They could try a long distance relationship, but that was inconvenient for both of them, they would soon fall apart, each having to take care of their lives. Levi had to work towards a degree and Erwin towards finishing a new book.

“Don’t go.” Levi suddenly croaked, turning towards him and taking his hands, kissing each of their knuckles. “I don’t want you leaving me again.”

Erwin turned his head away in thought. He was a writer, he could basically work from anywhere. In Paris he was sure to find a good publisher, working while also living with Levi in his apartment. If he put in a little effort he might manage it. But what about Nanaba and Mike? Would they understand? Would they still maintain their bond? Is he willing to give everything up for Levi? Erwin furrowed his brows, concentrating and thinking even more. Of course, he would go to the end of the earth for Levi, would rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him. Therefore, he voiced the only obvious answer for his lover’s request:

“I’ll stay.”

At the airport the next day Erwin hugged Levi and kissed him on the cheek, bidding his goodbye to his lover. After accepting to stay, they both decided that it would be best for Erwin to return to the states to get his affairs into order and when he would be finished he would return back to France and start his new life with Levi. So, with a waving hand, Erwin fell into step with Nanaba and Mike, who were waiting in line to board the plane. Levi smiled his way and said:

“Au revoir, Erwin Smith.”

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