#so my sister and i were referring to him as 'scarf boy' for the time being | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

en-ternity · 1 month

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⋅ GENRES: best friends (to strangers to friends) to lovers; angst, fluff & smut

⋅ PAIRING: neighbor!Sunghoon x fem!reader

⋅ WORD COUNT: 27K

⋅ WARNINGS: idiots in love, but make it slow-burn; forgive their dumb decisions at some points, they were scared; i caught myself being bias wrecked by Sunghoon, so don’t say you haven’t been warned; soulmates references although it’s not a fantasy au; mentions of alcohol and drugs; unprotected sex

TRACK 02 OF TAKE MY HAND

There had been a time when Sunghoon thought that you and he were meant to be forever.

And to be fair — his assumption used to make sense. For years, you had been best friends, halves of a whole, and the downfall of your friendship certainly was something no one could have predicted.

But that’s the thing about life — one moment people think they know exactly where they are headed, and the next, everything changes. The wind drifts the other way and suddenly, it is five am at the beginning of another Saturday. Sunghoon is clinging to his couch, wondering who he is looking for because you don’t go to parties anymore.

You were only ten when you first met Park Sunghoon.

While some parents ventured to the bustling cities in search of better opportunities, your parents decided to take the opposite turn and move to Uljin. About two hundred twenty-four kilometers southeast of Seoul and bordering the Sea of Japan, it was a county of sand-dirtied streets, a single commercial avenue, and no twenty-four hour parlors.

The breezes always carried the brine scent of the seashore, and the houses were built in the same bungalow style. No one within the limits of the county escaped the low-pitched roofs with wide eave overhangs nor the exposed rafters at the front porches. But a lucky person could have the beach just one deck away, and a luckier one could have Park Sunghoon as the boy next door.

And well, you were as lucky as luck could be.

The first time you had ever seen him, he stood on the sand with Yeji, a telescope stuck nearby, and the moon softly bathing his features as he looked up at the vast expanse of the night sky.

It was too cold to be outside, honestly, an autumn night that felt like winter on your bones, but you also had heard about the supermoon, and it was the only reason you had decided to sneak out that night, wandering to the beach with a scarf rolled around your neck not just once, but twice.

His little sister had been the first to acknowledge your presence, but it had been Sunghoon who offered to share the telescope with you, the corners of his mouth shyly tucking with a smile as dimples flirted at the soft skin of his cheeks.

You didn’t know then, what he would become to you — how important he would become to you. But on the next morning, he rang the bell of your new house and asked if you wanted to go to the main avenue with him, and just like that Park Sunghoon became shared cakes in autumn, snowball fights in winter, bike rides to the school in the spring, and your whole summer. During the bright days, Sunghoon would laugh heartily with you, his eyes gleaming with mirth as his dimples never failed to appear, and then when the night fell, he would whisper into the darkness of your room. His back side by side with yours until the sun broke and colored the walls tangerine and pink because you never bothered to close your curtains.

Throughout the seasons that turned into years, Sunghoon became your best friend, and as foolish as it could be — your other half.

ULJIN-GUN, NORTH GYEONGSANG

SUMMER OF 2020

It was later than usual when Sunghoon called that night. The house long turned into nothing but the sea breezes coming through the opened windows of your bedroom and blending in with your phone’s ringtone.

“Sunghoon.”

“Can you come outside?” he asked at the other end of the line.

You leaped off your bed, moving as quietly as you could to the window. It wasn’t as warm as it had been, autumn already pressing onto the late august nights, and tingling your skin, but when you spotted Sunghoon standing at the end of your family’s deck stairs, his jacket was hanging in one of his hands instead of his shoulders.

“I don’t know, can I?” you asked, immediately stealing a smile from him. Even in the distance, you could see it tucking at the corners of his mouth and flirting dimples at his cheeks.

Sunghoon peered up at you, head tilted to the side in a false consideration. During the course of your friendship, you had done it far too often, but still — Sunghoon always started with the same question, and you always replied in the same way. It was a monologue never really planned or written down, but that both of you had accepted and played.

“Just come already, teeny. I brought you a jacket,” he said, slightly shaking the piece in his hands.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart already pounding in your chest as you tip-toed through the darkness of your family’s house and its back deck.

You barely made it to the sand before Sunghoon slagged his jacket on your shoulders, a sneering huff escaping through his lips because while you settled on your height at the age of fourteen, he continued growing — his jackets turning harder to fit you with the passing years. But Sunghoon was still careful with it, adjusting it as best as he could despite you being a few good centimeters smaller than him now.

“Teeny,” he whispered, giving his jacket one final pat before he held his hand out for you. His fingers spread so you could fill the small gaps in between, your palm a warm touch against his as he guided you toward the sea.

Sunghoon stopped just before the water could reach your feet, but still, the breeze caught the cold sprinkles, brushing them against the exposed skin of your cheeks.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said.

“At three in the morning?” you asked. “I don’t think there is anything open kilometers from here.”

“No,” he laughed. “It’s going to be our last semester of high school, so I have been thinking, we should go somewhere else after our graduation.”

“Do you want to leave Gyeongsang?”

“It’s just — I don’t think there are many good options here, and my father has been trying to convince me to try a scholarship at Konkuk University.”

“Seoul? Seriously?”

“Well, Konkuk is one of the best for biological science, and — it happens to be one of the best for linguistics too,” he said. “It’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”

Something filled the inside of your chest with his question, so warm and tender. You couldn’t find the words to reply, so you only nodded at him, a smile already tucking at the corners of your mouth because even in his dreams, Park Sunghoon included you.

“I just thought that we should do it together,” he said. Although Sunghoon didn’t give himself enough time to doubt the wisdom of saying it, the words came weakly — almost getting lost in the breeze before you could even clasp them. You pulled his jacket tighter around your body, tugging the collar up to your mouth and accidentally breathing in everything about it: the citrus perfume blended with the brine scent of the seashore, which was the same as saying Sunghoon’s scent. “You are my best friend, plus — you would miss me too much if we ever went separate ways.”

You looked up at him, but he didn’t return your gaze. Sunghoon was still looking at the sky, watching it with the same intensity as when you first met him years and years ago.

Late august nights were never really warm in Uljin, and the air carried a particular humidity that caused his hair to curl fondly. You were glad your mouth was covered and hid the smile you couldn’t control from forming with the realization that it was true — you would miss him.

“Let’s do it together,” you conquered. “Let’s stay together.”

“It’s a promise now,” Sunghoon said.

He looked down at you, suddenly letting go of your interlaced hands. But before you could sorrow the absence of his warmth, he held his pinky finger at you. The gesture was so silly that you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound tingling across the night as you curled your pinky finger around his.

“It’s a promise now,” you echoed.

But you should have known — some promises were simply meant to be broken.

GWANGJIN-GU, SEOUL

SUMMER OF 2022

Kim Haneul was the messiest person you had ever met, and you told her this.

Konkuk University’s dormitories weren’t spacious — actually, just enough had been the term you used to describe it to your parents, but this afternoon, Haneul seemed to be on a mission to make it unbearable. The floor of your shared room had been cluttered with her old textbooks and past projects, some pinkish post-its sorting their destination between home, donation, and trash in her bubbly handwriting as her clothes took every other space.

You had offered to help many times, but she insisted on doing it by herself. What left you no other option than to stay at your desk chair, pulling your legs up, and wrapping your arms around them in an unconscious attempt to save some more space as you watched her fumbling through a pile of clothes.

“Is this yours?” she asked, completely ignoring your comment.

You looked at the apricot dress Haneul had picked up. It was a beautiful backless thing, and the straps were so delicate, you couldn’t help but wonder how it managed to hold everything in place. However, despite its beauty—

“I have never seen it before,” you told her.

“Being honest, I don’t remember ever seeing this either,” she sighed, long and heavy. “I was about to complain once again about this system of us having to empty the dorms every summer but then I remembered that I have graduated, so I would have to leave anyway.”

“You will manage it — you always managed it.”

“I know, I am just stressed,” she said, abandoning the apricot dress and moving her attention to a buttery yellow one. “You know what? My flight is only tomorrow night and you are only leaving for Uljin on Sunday, we should go out.”

“Like right now?”

“One of my classmates is throwing a party tonight.”

“I don’t go to parties,” you said, immediately receiving a look from her.

It wasn’t a lie — although it hadn’t always been like this.

A year ago, it wouldn’t matter whose party it was or what they were commemorating — if Park Sunghoon was there, you would be there too, hands intertwined and sharing the same doubtful cup until it was hard to tell if it was really late or really early. But you couldn’t go back to the university dormitory without getting a warning, and your only option was to crash in his frat house, slipping underneath his blankets as his arms curled around you and brought you a centimeter too closer to him.

His roommates weren’t even surprised anymore. Heeseung barely batted an eye as he caught you wandering around in the kitchen in the mornings afterward, and Jake already had an extra cup of coffee prepared for you.

But then, Sunghoon started to have flings.

Hyuna at the end of the winter semester, Sunhee at the beginning of the spring, Chaeyeol at the end of it, and some others in the middle of all of this.

He still insisted on taking you to the parties, his black Jeep parked in front of your dormitory’s door and ready to take you anywhere. But his girls were always hovering around, their eyes narrowed and unable to conceal the hate they had for you.

Sometimes they were so good at keeping Sunghoon away from you that you didn’t even see him until the party was over, and you had awkwardly been alone for hours, uncertain of what to do or where to go. So eventually, you didn’t feel like going anymore.

Of course, you were still friends outside the furor of the parties. But with the new reality of Sunghoon and his flings, plus you beginning your relationship with Jongseong, you both drifted apart. Days without hanging out turned into weeks, weeks turned into months of no real conversations, and then, Sunghoon canceled the last plan you ever made together and a shouting phone call was the last thing you remembered before your lives had gone on without each other in them. The new and strange became familiar, and all the promises you once made turned into nothing but a memory of a different life.

“You know you are allowed to go to parties without Sunghoon, right?” Haneul asked.

His name whispered through you, and you tightened your arms around yourself, fighting back the flood of feelings that threatened to overwhelm you at the mention of him.

One thing was to have Sunghoon hovering around your mind, another was to have him verbally put into a conversation.

“Of course, I know it,” you said, forcing out a smile.

Haneul walked towards you, wrapping her hands around your elbows. Her gesture was soft and you could tell she was choosing her words carefully even before she said them.

“You better, because it has been a year since you both stopped talking, and I don’t know. You were never here during the weekends, but now it’s hard to find you outside,” she said. “I don’t want to be that person, but Jongseong spoke some truth in the breakup speech — it seems like a part of you simply disappeared together with Sunghoon.”

“So let’s do something fun tonight. I am going back to my hometown and I have no idea what my life is going to be from now on,” she continued. “Consider this my graduation wish.”

“Wasn’t your graduation wish to get drunk on the university’s artificial lake last Sunday?”

“My graduation wish with you,” she mended.

You breathed in, turning your focus away. Despite it already being seven o’clock, the sun was still hefty outside, and suddenly, you had the impression the room had turned dimmer in comparison. The late june sunset pressed against the windows of your room, and shafts of golden luminescent streamed through the smudged glass.

You could feel the beginning of another summer slowly settling in. And how strange it was — to have the whole season caught in a breath that wasn’t his.

“I will think about it,” you said.

Haneul smiled, giving you a tiny squeeze before she abruptly let you go.

“I know you already have your answer.”

┈┈┈┈

You weren’t sure whose house it was, but there was graffiti on the walls and some lousy music was blasting through a pair of wireless speakers at the corner of the living room. The device long pushed against the wall just like the rest of the furniture so people could dance under the colorful lights, purple and red bouncing on their faces.

A different song picked up, less lousy but still trembling the floor and stealing the sound of Haneul’s delighted scream.

“Let’s dance,” she yelled, pushing her cheek against yours because it was the only way you could hear her beneath all the furor of the place.

“You go on and have fun,” you yelled back. “I am going to get another drink.”

“You really need it.”

You rolled your eyes at her, but she only smiled, leaving you to shove past people, and accidentally elbow a few couples who were too busy making out to open space.

The makeshift bar didn’t change from the last time you had been there. Aside from the notable decay of quantity, the options remained cheap beer and even cheaper soju.

You reached for a beer with a crinkled nose — bitter drinks definitely weren’t your favorite choice, and to add to your distress, someone had disappeared with the bottle opener.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen bar tricks already, people opening bottles with their teeth or countertops, but to perform it seemed different.

You didn’t want to take the risk of breaking a tooth, so you placed the bottle cap on the top of the ledge, carefully studying your next move, yet before you could do anything, he reached for you, his hands brushing against yours more like an echo of touch than in fact a thing as he took the bottle away.

“Careful,” he said. “You might hurt yourself like this.”

You knew it wasn’t a thing, but you could swear your heart dropped at the sound of his voice, that tiny gasp where a heartbeat should be.

You had molded the moment you would encounter Park Sunghoon in your mind enough times to believe you would be prepared when it finally came into reality but there was something strange about seeing someone after so long — a sudden uncertainty if time had passed correctly.

A year seemed like an eternity once, but not anymore. When you looked up at Sunghoon, you weren’t sure if a single day had passed ever since you both parted ways.

His gaze felt heavy on you, taking in how you had pushed your hair back due to the house's warmth, brushing it behind your ears, and allowing your shoulders to be on exposure. Your skin was glowing beneath the colorful light, sparkling with slivers of gold glitter some woman insisted on brushing on you when you left the bathroom. But Sunghoon lingered only a beat on it, choosing to follow the apricot dress Haneul had pulled you in earlier on before he finally met your eyes.

Both of you stood there for a second, maybe two, and then Sunghoon moved, abandoning his own bottle so he could focus on yours. He placed the cap on the top of the ledge, but different from you, he brought his hand down on it with no ado. The beer spilled with the roughness of the act, and the scent of fresh alcohol filled your senses.

“Here,” he said, handing it back to you. Your fingers slipped on his, and although you hadn’t even taken the first sip yet, you were already dizzy.

“Thank you.”

“When Jake said he saw you here, I was about to drag him home saying he had enough drinks for a night,” he said. “But turns out you are really here.”

“It has been some time. How have you been?” Sunghoon asked, retrieving his beer and bringing it up to his lips. You watched as he screwed his face, his nose scrunched because the warmth of the house had accentuated the bitter taste of the alcohol and turned it unpleasant. But he didn’t say anything, his eyes were still on you, shining beneath the colorful lights and waiting for you to talk.

“I have been fine, yes. How about you?”

“Fine,” he said. “Same old thing, classes, the frat house, and parties every weekend.”

The edge of a smile formed on his lips. It was such a small, quiet expression, but it lit him up, and you yanked your gaze to the bottle in your hands, desperate to find something else to put your attention on before the full force of his smile could reach you.

But you had turned your face away too late, and the familiar twinge his smile always made you experience had already occurred.

“Are you going to Uljin for summer?” he asked then.

“I always do,” you replied. You didn’t sound harsh or angry. If anything it was just you saying a factual truth, yet the words seemed to hang longer than it was necessary in the air, and in the rush of the moment, you talked yourself down. “I mean, I have to. They use the summer for inspections and reforms, so we are obligated to leave.”

You made the mistake of looking up, catching Sunghoon’s gaze as it felt on you in the same motion.

Behind him, a man appeared, friendly punching his shoulders before he moved to the makeshift bar and fumbled for a new beer. Sunghoon raised three fingers at the stranger, absently, and barely looking in his direction.

“When?” he asked.

“Sunday,” you said. “June twenty-six is the last day to empty the room.”

“I am also going back to Uljin,” he said. “I could — I could give you a ride on Sunday.”

You straightened yourself at the suggestion, fingers anxiously finding a rhythm against the bottle. It was silly the way your heart was pounding in your chest — silly the way your skin was warm in a way that you knew it wasn’t due to the early summer heat, nor the alcohol filling your system.

It had been a year since you last spoke to each other — a year since you had last made plans together. Everything was starting to feel too familiar beneath the awkwardness of the night, and for another moment, you didn’t know how to respond, choosing to swallow a good amount of the alcohol instead.

In the earnestness of your silence, Sunghoon studied you, his gaze unflinching even as he shrugged away, pressing his back against the cool of the fridge. His whole body moved with the guilt of someone who was taking their foot off the brake and still — was going to pretend what was coming next was an accident.

“Let’s bet,” he said. “Like the old times, c’mon.”

Sunghoon stepped past you, abandoning what remained of his beer at the makeshift bar, and sparing not even a single look back. He simply trusted that you would follow him, and you knew it was such a terrible idea, but perhaps it had been the alcohol already simmering below your skin, or perhaps it had been simply because it was Sunghoon, but you did follow him.

God — you would always follow him.

The living room was even more crowded than a few moments ago, with too many people fighting for the same space on the makeshift dance floor, and Sunghoon reached his hand out behind him. It seemed involuntary, almost as if his body had moved on its own, and he didn’t notice what he had done, but you did.

You wouldn’t lose each other in the middle of the living room, but once, when you were thirteen, you had reached out to him in the middle of a crowd, and then, he had never stopped reaching back to you.

At first, he just pinched the tip of your fingers, but as he opened space through the living room and moved into the stairs, his fingers found the slots between yours, and you let him intertwine your hands.

He caught the second story just as a group was leaving it. They had that happy air of those who had gone too far on their drinks, the alcohol effects heaving through as one of them nearly collided with you. Sunghoon pulled you closer then, guiding you through the corridor before the other could even apologize.

You didn’t know whose house this was, but apparently, Sunghoon did. He took you to the last room without a hint of doubt, as if he already knew it was a game room. The walls painted in the extravagant tone of maroon as a pool table took the space in the middle, velvet smooth beneath the dim light.

Sunghoon let go of your hand only to gather the balls in the center of the table, carefully alternating by stripes and solids before he turned to the wall and took two cue sticks from the hangers.

“If I win, you go back to Uljin with me. If you win, it’s your choice,” he said, giving one of the cue sticks. “Do you know the rules?”

He didn’t need to speak loudly nor lend to your side to be heard anymore. The music was quieter up there, almost an echo through your feet, but still, Sunghoon did — his breath brushing warmly against your cheeks as he spoke.

His accent didn’t escape you this time — that faint echo of the North Gyeongsang lull.

Although you had grown up there, you never acquired that way of rolling your tongue through the vowels and stretching the end of the phrases the way people of the province did, and to hear it made your chest ache in longing.

“I don’t think so,” you said.

“Didn’t your boyfriend teach you anything?” he asked, stepping back. The question had been crafted merely as a tease, but you felt like you had been verbatim attacked at the mention of Jongseong.

He hadn’t been your boyfriend for weeks now, yet the news didn’t seem to have reached Sunghoon, and to be honest, you didn’t mind his oblivion on the topic. Sunghoon never tried to mask his ill feelings toward Jongseong — as cruel as it could be. And perhaps it was the reason that although it was an opportunity, you didn’t say anything about the breakup.

“He taught me a few other things,” you said instead. “He taught me how to drive.”

Sunghoon snorted at that, an unpretty thing that he somehow always made it work as cute.

“I don’t believe you. You hate even the idea of driving. You always refused when I asked if you wanted me to teach you.”

“I always had you to drive me whenever I needed. There was no point back then,” you retorted.

Your tongue had come loose, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, or simply the duration of Sunghoon’s presence, but immediately, you wished you could take the words back like air into your lungs.

You turned your gaze away, but still, you could feel his eyes on you, that same unflinching gaze he had in the kitchen and your cheeks burned.

“But no,” you quickly added. “He didn’t teach me pool or anything like that.”

“Let’s make the game simple then,” he said. “I am the stripe, and you are the solid.”

“Do I have to pocket all mine or yours?”

“Yours and the eight-ball.”

“I do not like it already,” you said.

“I will teach you,” he said.

You settled over the stick, and he was on you again, chest pressing against your back as his hands found yours, cupping them into disappearance.

When you breathed in and his scent caught in your lungs, the same citrus perfume he used back in the years, and although now he carried the smell of tobacco instead of the brine scent of the seashore, it was all too familiar to you.

“You have to lose your grip,” he said, his mouth against your hair.

“I told you. I don’t know how to play,” you replied, but Sunghoon only hummed, guiding you through a stroke and drilling the cue ball.

He let you go suddenly, circling the table and taking another practical stroke. This time, he pulled a ball into the pocket, and when he straightened himself back, you noticed he had glitter on him. The golden sprinkles the stranger had rubbed on your skin fetched to his dark jacket.

“You should learn if you don’t want to go with me to Uljin.”

“I didn’t agree on the bet.”

“We are already playing,” he said.

His gaze lifted, finding you still on the other side of the table, considering him, or perhaps, just watching him.

Somewhere below, a mixture of cheers and noises erupted, but there was such a stillness between you.

On one hand, it was probably unwise to allow Sunghoon into your life again.

On the other, whatever you were doing now was already spectacularly unwise.

“Alright,” you determined. “But if I lose, you have to be at seven in front of the dorms’ door — seven sharp, so I still can take the train if you don’t appear.”

“I will be there,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, transforming his features but this time, you did not look away, watching as his bare happiness spread through, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and flirting dimples into his cheeks.

Sunghoon looked so boyish like this, so soft, so — yours.

You had to remember yourself to breathe.

“If I lose,” you said.

“If you lose.”

On the following morning, Sunghoon was waiting for you at the front door of your dormitory, the engine of his black Jeep still on as he leaned on the hood with an apparently unaffected indifference.

His hands had been shoved in the pockets of his dress pants, and a pair of sunglasses had already been equilibrated at the bridge of his nose despite the fact it was barely seven o’clock, the whole campus still in a sleepiness state that only came with the beginning of the summer vacation, and the sky was still a mix of lilac and pink against the clouds.

It had been a year since you fell apart, but it had been years of friendship, and you still could read Sunghoon like no one else. He wasn’t the type to allow his faltering to show easily, but it was only necessary to look a little bit more to notice it was there — a shoulder twitch, hands thumping unrhythmically against his thighs.

When he saw you, he immediately managed to pull a smile, pushing himself away from the car. And everything about it was so compelling — so genuine. You almost could doubt if you had read him right.

He walked toward you, taking his sunglasses off and perching them on the collar of his t-shirt.

“Just those two?” he asked, referring to your luggage, and you nodded, more like an involuntary deed than an answer as Sunghoon was still focused on the objects.

He took both handles, finally looking at you, but your gazes met for a few seconds too long, and it became more awkward than necessary.

Perhaps you should have accepted Haneul’s farewell gift. Although you disliked soju — it doesn’t matter if it had been conserved with the best tangerines from Jeju. A dose of alcohol would do some good on your system now.

“Yeah, just these two,” you finally said.

You trailed closely behind him to the Jeep, not sure what to do aside from watching as he opened the trunk and efficiently hauled your luggage there.

There was something that should be said at that moment, you could feel it trickling through the corners of your mind, but before you could find what exactly it was, Sunghoon had already turned his attention back to you.

“I told you I would be here,” he said suddenly, and almost unwittingly, but the words ached within you so wonderfully that you felt something warm blooming very deep inside of you.

Sunghoon guided you to the passenger side, opening the door and waiting for you to fold yourself into the front of his car before he closed it with a soft slam.

The Jeep felt smaller than you remembered — cluttered with him and his everyday things, and the density of it overwhelmed you. A notebook was thrown at the carpet at your feet, opened to reveal his meticulous handwriting, always in black tint pens and telling something you couldn’t comprehend about marine science or whatever subject biology students had.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding, and when you breathed in, it too, was filled with him, his citrus perfume, and the faint scent of tobacco that you hoped was still from one of his roommates and not his.

“Have you eaten?” Sunghoon asked.

“No, not yet,” you said.

“I thought about stopping at that café,” he said, fingers thumping against the wheel. “The one we stopped when we first came to Seoul.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

┈┈┈┈

Just off the interstate, Daon lived almost like a secret in the middle of the old factories and massive warehouses. Although the café had been running for years, the exterior remained with the same brownstone facade, black roof, and matching glass panels, blending almost imperceptibly with the rest of the neighborhood buildings, but maybe it had been the owner’s intention.

The sign itself had a bit of a marvel in that it was only a black plating with the name written in a Palatino font. And nothing — absolutely nothing, advised it was a café.

You couldn’t remember how Sunghoon found it. Perhaps it had been lucky, maybe it had been a bit of destiny, yet you loved the place.

As soon as you stepped inside, the smell of coffee surrounded the air around you, wiping the harsh exterior with a single intake. The wooden tables lined against the walls, crammed side by side to make room for the amount of plants and crafts scattered throughout the place.

It was a secret — perhaps, a secret within a secret.

Sunghoon trailed behind you to the counter, looking over your shoulder as you fumbled through the menu, and when you were about to turn the page from the drinks to the pancakes, his hand met yours.

“I haven’t finished,” he said, voice winding into your hair. His breath was warm against your exposed shoulders and suddenly, everything on you focused on his presence close behind you. His breath brushed against your ears, and his hand held onto yours, a few seconds more than it was necessary every and each page as if he was reluctant to let it go.

Your skin protested as Sunghoon turned to the waitress, tingling with the sudden coldness, and you had to give yourself a moment before turning too.

“Hey, lovelies. What can I get for you?” the waitress asked. She was in her early fifties, with gray sideburns and a smile on her cherry-tinted lips that made strangers feel like family and perhaps it was the only reason you didn’t falter there.

You couldn’t decide on a smoothie, so Sunghoon ordered both — strawberry and mango. And when he suggested the strawberry walnut tartlet, and you refused, his eyebrows went up beneath his bangs.

“It was your favorite,” he remembered.

“It’s alright,” you said, and Sunghoon hesitated, licking his lips as he looked from the waitress to you a few times.

“Go on and grab a table,” he said then. “I will pay for the order.”

“I should pay my part.”

“Buy me something in Uljin,” he said.

You looked up at him, and he smiled. The words had left his lips as nothing, but still — they carried a real meaning. Sunghoon wanted to do something together in Uljin, and how could it be so odd yet familiar at the same time.

For a moment, you stood quiet, a furrow of uncertainty pressed between your brows before you nodded, walking to an empty table.

You wondered if it would be awkward if the silence would stretch on too long, and the spaces between words would be filled with awkwardness. But when Sunghoon came after and took the chair in front of you, he was already asking about your classes and Haneul. He asked about the teacher you hated and the project you had even forgotten you had done last winter until he mentioned it. You breathed a little easier at that and asked about his classes and his roommates — Heeseung, Jake, and the younger guy you couldn’t remember the name of.

“Riki,” Sunghoon remembered. “Or mini Jake, whatever you prefer.”

“Except for the part that he is way taller than Jake.”

“Don’t say that,” he asked, but there was a bite of a smile on his lips. “Jake will be hurt.”

The waitress came with your order then, pulling the plates perfectly in front of each of you. You both slid your plates to the center of the table simultaneously and without a single question, arranging them in a way that would allow you to share, just as you had done so many times when you were younger.

And when the silence appeared for the first time between a bite and another, you finally mustered up the courage to ask what you had been wondering about all along.

“Why did you decide to go back this time?” you asked.

“I just — I just felt like it was the right thing, I have been away for too long,” he said, but there was a note in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

It was nearing ten o’clock, and the world was a little more alive. The sun was coming hefty through the windows of the café, bathing over the two of you. It caught on the glass vase in the middle of the table, scattering shafts of light everywhere. Sunghoon opened his palm to it and then closed, almost as if he could catch the light with his bare hands, and you felt the strange desire to study his face in detail, searching for — something, although you weren’t sure what something would be.

Sunghoon didn’t seem to have changed much throughout the year. Although his skin had lost the last remains of Uljin’s sun and he’d grown his hair out, the tips hanging down past his ear in a way you had never seen before, he was the Sunghoon you always remembered — freckled cheeks and dark strands boyish as it was pretty.

His eyebrows furrowed at something, and you wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had shared secrets, and suddenly, the question got stuck in your mouth — that easy thread within both of you breaking once again.

The waitress returned, carrying a piece of the tartlet you had refused. For a moment, you thought Sunghoon might have ordered it for himself, but she put it in front of you, clicking her tongue against her cherry-tinted lips and calling you “such a cute couple” before she left.

“Did you order it for me?” you asked. Sunghoon nodded his head affirmatively.

“Thank you, Hoon, but I haven’t ordered it because they use walnut pieces. I found out I am allergic to it,” you said, the words trailing out in a breath. “I came here with Jongseong when he drove me to Uljin last summer, and I had the same stretches I did with you. He thought it was strange and took me to a hospital later. We did a few blood tests, and it came out that I am allergic to walnuts—”

You continued talking, but something had settled inside of Sunghoon. Strong enough to make him dizzy, great enough to ache.

The problem itself wasn’t that you had shared this place with your boyfriend but that Sunghoon finally had noticed how your life had kept going without him.

Between one word and another, Sunghoon stood up, desperate to get away, to escape this conversation and all the realization it brought. He made it to the parking lot, somehow finding his Jeep before he bent down. He didn’t hear you walking up behind him, but you were there, making the breeze slightly tender with your sweet perfume.

Neither of you said anything. The echo of the interstate was the only sound for a minute, maybe two, and then Sunghoon sighed, heavy and world-weary as he scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“We have really become strangers, haven’t we?” It had been a question. However, the last two words were spoken so slowly — so humbly. He didn’t want to hear the answer, so you didn’t attempt to give one.

A breeze rushed through the parking lot, scattering the greenish leaves of summer in its wake. You were still kilometers away from Uljin, but you could swear the air already carried that faint brine scent of the seashore.

“I am sorry,” you said. “I could have just eaten it.”

“And have allergy reactions until we arrive home?”

“It would be just minor scratches,” you murmured.

“I don’t care what it is,” he said. “If it’s bad for you or if you simply dislike it, I am not allowing you to take it.”

Sunghoon looked at you, lips parted to say something else, but you were already reaching for him, finding the precise place where his hair had grown above the collar of his t-shirt, and he stopped, mind stuck in the middle of a sentence he would never say. His skin was warm there, already loved by the summer heat, and you could feel his pulse hastily reaching for the tip of your fingers before it came into peace.

“I am sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s alright.”

The motions from there were silent and vaguely awkward. Sunghoon stood up and stepped past you, going to the passenger door to open it for you. He waited until you folded yourself back into the Jeep just like he had done this morning and many other times before. Nonetheless, you couldn’t gather the courage to look at him and thank — not even when he settled himself into the driver’s seat.

Your fingers were still tingling with the memory of his heartbeats against your skin.

Sunghoon paused, his hand hovering over the ignition before he inserted the key and turned it with a firm hand. The Jeep wailed to life, the sound of the engine and the radio filling the air around you.

“Did something else happen through those months?” he asked. “Any other allergies?”

“No — not that I remember,” you replied. “How about you? Anything happened?”

“Not that I remember, but if I do remember something, I will tell.”

“Ok.”

“Ok,” he echoed.

The car fell silent, the radio being the only furor between you as he drove out of the parking lot, but for the first time since the party, neither of you tried to fill it.

┈┈┈┈

Uljin wasn’t your hometown.

Being honest, you didn’t even know the existence of the county until you were ten, sitting at the kitchen counter of your childhood house and listening to your parents telling you they wanted to start fresh, start new — a new clinic somewhere closer to the coast, and then, you were leaving the only life you ever knew by the time summer wittered to autumn.

However, you never sorrowed it. The county had a feeling that could be embedded in any person willing to open their hearts. There was nowhere else like Uljin. The sun seemed to shine softer once you passed through the limits of the county, and the breezes brushed a little lighter. Everything about this part of the world made a little bit more tender.

As soon as Sunghoon drove past the welcoming sign, you rolled your window down, allowing the wind to thread through your fingers as you held your hand out, soft and warm, just like a kiss would be.

Sunghoon sighed, not the heavy and world-weary sigh he had released in the parking lot, but a small, quiet, and ragged sigh, almost as if he had not meant to let it escape. You shifted your gaze to him then, watching as he closed his eyes. The wind caught and mussed his hair — already working to bring the curls you had a long time not seen. And it suddenly occurred to you it was the first time both of you were in Uljin ever since high school.

“Eyes on the streets,” you said, loudly enough to be heard over the wind.

“Yes, let’s not try to cause the first accident in decades.”

Sunghoon drove past the emerald mountains, the greenish field being the only thing spreading beneath the sun until you had reached the main avenue.

Other than the renewal of the ice cream parlor and the opening of a new café, the main avenue was the same as it always had been — the same old stores telling their stories through their facades bleached by too much sun and sea breeze.

The bakery opened the avenue, an inviting display window beckoning anyone closer with crunchy tarts, pieces of bread dusted with sugar, and all the other pastry art. And then came the tiny bookstore and a music school closed and derelict due to the summer months. Laughter rolled everywhere, and you wondered if you should ask Sunghoon to stop, just for a quiet second but he kept heading to the coast — heading home.

Your houses remained unchanging as the rest of the county — two bungalows spared by not even two full meters and bathed in the late june sunlight. When Sunghoon allowed the engine to die, you heard the sea crashing against the shore, the sound resonating with the wind bell your mother kept on the front porch, and all of it whispered the same thing:

“Home,” he said. Back where you both started.

Neither of you needed to knock on your doors. The moment you stepped out of the car, you noticed your mothers and Yeji sitting at the table on the Park’s front porch and sipping on some iced drinks.

Yeji was the first to reach you, her arms coming around your waist as she buried her face in your shoulders. Her hair was still wet from the sea and smelling like salt, a wonderful denotation of how she had spent her Sunday morning.

“You came,” she said.

“I always do.”

“Yes, you are the best sister ever.”

“I am right here, you know?” Sunghoon said.

“Oh, sorry for not including you in our sisterhood, stranger,” Yeji said. However, despite her harsh words, she turned to him, her arms wide and outstretched in an invitation he gladly accepted.

Jiyoung reached for you after, cupping your face between her palms as she took a good look at you. And you took the opportunity to look at her too.

Although Sunghoon always said he looked more like his father, you always defended he also looked uncannily like Jiyoung. It was a fact that Sunghoon had gotten his father’s fair skin and thick eyebrows, but whenever he smiled it was all Jiyoung. The corner of her eyes crinkled, and dimples flirted on her cheeks as she smiled at you.

“How can you get prettier every time I see you?” she asked.

“It’s your eyes, Jiyoung.”

“No sense, darling,” she said. “I bet Jongseong has a lot of problems.”

“Not really.”

“But anyway,” Jiyoung continued, her eyes straying to where her children stayed for a brief second before she moved it back to you. “I am so glad you came. I kept asking Sunghoon how you were doing during the semester, and he always replied ‘Fine’.”

“And she is, isn’t she?” he replied, but it went completely ignored by her.

“We prepared a homecoming lunch,” she told you. “I hope you are not tired from the trip.”

“Not tired enough to refuse your lunch,” you said, immediately stealing another smile from her.

“Let’s come inside then,” Jiyoung said, giving you a tiny squeeze before she abruptly let you go. “Yeji, come help me — Sunghoon, unload the car.”

“Hugs and kisses for her,” Sunghoon murmured. “Unload the car for me.”

“That’s what you earn by never coming home,” his mother screamed from the front porch.

“I came on Christmas!” he screamed back. The information had barely been processed by you before Jiyoung screamed again.

“Almost two years in Seoul, and you only came on one Christmas day!” she said, stepping inside the house, but not before you noticed how the corners of her mouth were still tucked in a teasing smile. And you loved it on them — loved that bickering tenderness only the Parks had.

Your mother approached you then, her arm curling around your waist as she guided you to the front porch.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her accent coming so clipped and low after the previous exchange. “Was everything alright during the trip?”

“We should talk later, but yes, everything was fine,” you confirmed. “Where’s father?”

“Inside with Kwangho,” she said. “And hopefully not burning Jiyoung’s lasagna. She spent the whole morning on it.”

Just like all the houses in the county, the Parks had those open floor plans where the front hall ran into the living room, and the living room ran into the kitchen, and the kitchen ran into a double door that gave access to the back deck. Although you couldn’t see it, you knew the sea was right there — just a few steps away by the way the sun bathed into the house in shafts of white light, illuminating everything from the double door to the front hall.

When you moved to Uljin, you thought that eventually, the scenery would start to fade out of your consciousness — that someday you would wake up no longer amazed by the whiteness of the sand and the immensity of the sea. But it never happened and by now, you doubted it could.

Sunghoon once called it tourist fortes. But you defended that you simply had found a home.

Your father was leaning on the kitchen island together with Kwangho, a cup of his favorite whiskey already hanging in his right hand as he used the other to reach for you, hopping you affectionately beneath his arm and interrupting his conversation with Sunghoon’s father.

“Safe trip?” your father asked.

“With Sunghoon driving?” Kwangho questioned before you could reply. “I bet my son never passed the speed limit. Am I wrong?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sunghoon pushed the front door open, and immediately, the warm summer air rushed in, carrying that brine scent of the seashore. Everything smelled like the beach and Jiyoung’s lasagna, still simmering with the warmth of the oven. He stepped into the house, catching you as you walked to the center of the room.

Sometimes, you forgot how tall Sunghoon had gotten until he was standing right in front of you, bottling you in the shadows with his full height and setting a chill on your skin.

“I left your luggage in your front hall.”

“Thank you,” you said. Sunghoon briefly nodded, before he was gone, further into the house and to where your fathers stood. Differently from you, he was greeted in that manly way. They talked loudly, palms hit shoulders in the middle of half hugs. His father extended him a whiskey cup for a toast, and your nose wrinkled at the exact moment his did. Sunghoon had tried whiskey for the first time at a club near the university campus, his knees brushing against yours at the bar’s counter as he swallowed the amber drink and said it was the worst thing he had tried in his whole life. He had burst out laughing then, and you had laughed with him, your body inclining into his direction, hand on his chest before you had even noticed it, and only when he had brushed the tips of his fingers through the back of your ear did you notice how close you had come.

His gaze encountered yours, and it felt like the months that had passed hung suspended in the fine particles of air.

Your mother passed by you, reaching for the dining table with plates and cutlery pulled in her hands. You used the excuse to help her and turned your back on him, your whole body warmer by the memory.

“Oh, do not bother yourself with it,” your mother said. “Bring a stool from the kitchen instead. We are minus a seat.”

“Is someone else coming?”

“Someone else came,” she whispered, her words barely audible beneath all the chaos of the room. And you knew by the way she had leaned to your side that whatever she was telling you, she wasn’t supposed to. “Until Friday, Sunghoon said he wasn’t coming home. Jiyoung only found out he was coming today when you called a few hours ago — she is fuming.”

“But he told me-”

“The stool,” your mother said abruptly. You looked up at her, ready to question what caused her sudden change in tone. But you noticed Sunghoon approaching from a distance, and you allowed the question to slip and slide with a single inhale.

“I have been banished from the kitchen. Maybe I am more helpful here?” Sunghoon asked your mother.

“Of course, Sunghoon. I will put the plates, and you put the cutlery,” she said. “And darling-”

“The stool, I am on it,” you said.

You brought the stool as Jiyoung set the lasagna in the center of the table, followed by Yeji and the blend of salad she had seen somewhere online last summer and turned into her signature on dining reunions. And before any discussion was made, the seven of you crowded around the table that initially was meant for four.

“Are you free tomorrow afternoon?” Yeji asked, leaning in to whisper the question to you. You didn’t think it would make any difference at all. So many things were happening that you doubted anyone would notice she was sharing secrets with you. At the other side of the table, your father opened the first two bottles of wine, and your mother poured, acquiring a comment from Kwangho, something you didn’t quite catch, but it made all of them burst into a laugh, the sound rolling through the ceiling.

“I am,” you said. “Why?”

“I would need your help — I have been asked on a date,” she confessed, earning a playful gasp from you.

“What are you both conspiring about?” Sunghoon called out. Although his words had been accusatory, you sensed a tease in his tone.

You didn’t notice he had taken the seat by your side until he was leaning in too, both of the Parks siblings scents blending your lungs. Citrus all together with the salty scent of the sea.

“Girl’s stuff,” you said at the same time Yeji declared it was nothing. Your voices piled over each other, and you wished you had said nothing at all. But Sunghoon glanced up at you, and if anything, he smiled and straightened himself back to his seat, promptly accepting the salad his mother was offering.

“I will call you,” Yeji said, her voice barely audibly before she straightened herself too.

Nothing really happened between the salad and the main course. Your father talked about business with Kwangho, and your mother discussed something Jiyoung had heard on the main avenue. Yeji complained about school, and it was so familiar and timeworn by the amount of Sundays you had spent like this — so pleasant that you didn’t notice Jiyoung was requiring your attention until Sunghoon’s hand brushed against yours.

“How’s things with your boyfriend?” Jiyoung asked. “Jongseong, right? Is he fine?”

“Oh, Jongseong is fine,” you said, subtly cleaning your throat. There was no way you could escape it this time. “But we — we have broken up.”

The impact of your words was instantaneous.

In your peripheral, you saw your parents looking at each other, a silent conversation going through with just a raise of your father’s eyebrow. Jiyoung and Yeji hung with their lips slightly parted, one being the perfect reflection of the other. Even Kwangho gasped, a mess of words that sounded much like “the convertible guy?” but it was Sunghoon’s surprised question that caught everyone’s attention.

“You what?” he demanded.

“You didn’t know?” Yeji asked.

“I don’t think I have told anyone aside from my roommate,” you said.

“But that’s a good thing,” Sunghoon said. “That guy was just too dumb to realize how lucky he was.”

The words hover steadily and straightforwardly, without a single trace of anything held back. He didn’t even seem to notice the utter silence he had induced. Usually, the house would have been a flurry of activities, glasses being put on the table with audible clicks, dishes being cleared, and two parallel conversations going on beneath the main topic. There would be no room for a single hitch of breath. But now, the soft playlist Yeji had put on the wireless speaker was the only sound heard, and in the sudden stillness, Sunghoon’s words echoed through your body, growing heat into your cheeks.

“Well, I agree with Sunghoon,” your father said, raising a cup of whiskey to his lips. “I never liked that guy.”

“Gosh love,” your mother hissed.

“Was it the one with the convertible?” Kwangho asked again, this time directing it to your father in the hope of being answered.

“Yes,” your father replied.

“No way,” Kwangho said, at the exact moment Yeji screamed at your side.

“Exactly!” she said, “She doesn’t fit convertible car guys.”

“What do I fit then?” you asked.

Yeji opened her mouth to respond, but before she could even articulate the words, they stuttered and stammered, preferring to stay on her tongue. She turned her attention to Sunghoon then, silently asking for his help, but if anything, he shook his head, unable to do anything further.

He would never admit how his heart was pounding in his chest.

“You know what? We forgot to toast,” Jiyoung said, already raising her wine glass. “To their return?”

“What else?” your mother asked.

“Summer,” Yeji suggested.

┈┈┈┈

You had known what would come next, but still, it seemed to come too fast.

As you followed your parents out of the Parks front porch, Sunghoon reached for you, his fingers slightly curling around your bare wrist to catch your attention.

You glanced up at him. Patches of sunlight danced over his shoulders, over the striking features of his face. His dark hair almost looked gold beneath the late sunlight. And there was something so humble and awed in the way he stood, something so familiar and known that you only could nod when he asked if you wanted to go to the beach.

Sunghoon led you between the two houses, the air warm and trapped between the walls before it opened up to the expanse — to the beach, and the sunset spilling across the waves in shafts of pinky peach, and tangerine. You couldn’t help but sigh at the view, an appreciation that came from your bare heart. Sunghoon raised his head at the sound of you, but instead of following your gaze, he turned to you.

“Here,” he whispered, extending his hand so he could help you through the small climbdown. The white sand that almost seemed the color of rose quartz beneath the setting sun slipping under your shoes.

Sunghoon gently released your hand as the sand spread flatly, giving you the freedom to decide whether you wanted to accompany him closer to the sea or not.

Guilelessly, you chose to follow him, stopping far enough for the water to not sprint on your shoes.

Two years ago, you both had stood in this exact place, making a promise neither of you knew how to keep. And as you looked back it seemed a lifetime since you both had been there — it seemed like no time at all.

“I missed this place,” he said, his voice coming so low, you barely could hear him through the sound of the sea waves.

“It always has been here,” you reminded him. But Sunghoon didn’t reply — he didn’t even look at you, his eyes remaining on the sea instead.

“It was lonely without you here,” you said then. You could feel the emotions rising in your throat, your doubts threatening to stammer the word away. But perhaps because you were in Uljin, and things were always easier there, perhaps because the night was approaching, and the memory of this felt like it could disappear together with the sunlight, you allowed the words to come and slip through.

“I understood you not coming home on the first Christmas because of the extra class, but last summer when you didn’t appear to pick me up at the dorms — I couldn’t really comprehend why you wouldn’t come,”

“When I called you just said you decided to stay, and if it wasn’t for Jongseong offering to drive me here, I don’t know what I would have done,” you admitted. “I waited for you until the last minute, you know? Luggage in hands and everything. But it was the day I realized that maybe we were no longer who we were used to be.”

“It’s just — it always had been you and me against the world, Hoon, but suddenly it was just me,” you said. “I kept waking up in the morning and feeling like I was missing something, I knew that there was something wrong, and then, I remembered, my best friend was gone.”

Sunghoon opened his mouth — his lips parting as if he was about to say something, and you braced yourself for a confession, a reluctant truth, some explanation for the mess you both became. But instead, he only seized a shuddering breath, his own doubts silencing him.

Sunghoon stayed like this for a moment, maybe two, looking down at his own hands as if he was trying to sort his thoughts and you turned your gaze toward the sea.

“When we moved to Seoul, I couldn’t sleep because of how noisy the city was,” he said. “We can always hear the echoes of the roads through the house, the train line, the baseball team training until late hours.”

You weren’t sure why he chose to tell you about his insomnia problems, especially given it was something you already knew. But there was a tone in the way his words came through that told you it was the confession.

“Then I called you one night,” he continued. “And the moment I heard your voice I felt like I was here — exactly here.”

You smiled, heart softening at his admission. It was exactly how you felt when you heard his voice. The softest hello teeny after a long day at the university, and the I am coming over although he could never pass through your dorm’s door and you could never leave because of the strict rules. But he would come anyway, parking the Jeep just by your window’s sight and talking until it was easy to breathe again.

“I missed you terribly,” Sunghoon continued. “I know I am the one who fucked up when I started drifting away and canceling our plans. I know I was the one who pulled us apart last summer and I am so sorry.”

“I never meant to turn into a stranger, you were still my best friend,” he said, his voice quieted then to something less than a whisper. “You are still my best friend.”

Sunghoon had hurt you, it was an undeniable truth, and perhaps there was a part of you that would never manage to forget it. But he also had been with you for so long that you couldn’t remember if ever there was a you that didn’t know him. He was your history, and it was so hard to throw history away. It was almost as if you were throwing away a part of yourself.

You looked up at him, but his eyes were already on you, as if he had never looked away.

The first time you ever promised to love Sunghoon was a mystery for you. Someday, you only knew that it had happened, and you had passed through years already loving him. And maybe — maybe you could never recreate that moment exactly, go back and discover when your heart first decided it would give a piece of it to Sunghoon, but you felt like this night was a living echo of it.

When he reached out, gently pulling his hand towards you. You felt a tiny epiphany that you were giving a piece of your heart to him again.

His fingers spread as if he was just waiting for you to pull your hand in his and fill the small gaps, and so you did. It was a small gesture, something that you both were so used to, but it felt more meaningful than ever.

“I am sorry,” he whispered.

“I am sorry too,” you said, your tone coming as soft as his. You weren’t sure why you were whispering to each other. But you liked it, the intimacy of the moment.

He used your connected hands to bring you closer to him and pull you against his chest. He was warm beneath the cotton of his clothes, all his body already loved by the summer sun, and you were so lost in the feeling of him that you barely noticed when he moved, his arms coming around your waist and lifting you off your feet.

Sunghoon laughed then, only once, but his eyes remained in the shape, unable to conceal his pure and unfiltered happiness as he carried you through the centimeters that separated you from the sea. Just when you thought he wouldn’t drop you, he did, allowing the waves to drench your jeans.

“You are a pig, Park Sunghoon,” you gasped, kicking water on him, but if anything, Sunghoon laughed some more, his dimples appearing as he threw his head back and allowed the sound to catch and spread across the breeze. His happiness was so contagious that you couldn’t help but laugh too. And when it died from your chest, you felt something else taking the space — something so wonderfully light and warm. You wished you could hold it like a breath, keep it in to whenever you felt like faltering.

┈┈┈┈

As the afternoon shadows grew longer, Sunghoon gestured towards the back deck of your house. And as you followed him, the sound of the sea grew louder and more distinct, the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore stealing the sound of your footsteps.

“About Jisung-” Sunghoon suddenly said.

“Jongseong,” you corrected.

“Whatever,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper in the breeze. “I am sorry, I had no idea you had broken up.”

“I think I have told no one aside from Haneul, being honest, and he was wonderful, but-” you stopped, immediately wishing you could swallow the last word.

“But?” he echoed.

“It couldn’t work.”

Sunghoon acknowledged your statement with a slow, deliberate nod, his eyes momentarily unfocused before he moved his attention back to the beach. You didn’t say it wasn’t working, or it didn’t work. It had been the future already pressed into the present, and although he wanted to question it, he didn’t.

“You should get inside,” he said. “The breeze is starting to pick.”

“I guess I will see you around,” you said.

“Yes, of course.”

“Of course,” you echoed, and he wished he could hold time — prevent it from ticking forward as he kept both of you on this afternoon through the sheer force of his will. However, you took the knob, swirling your family’s back door open.

“Night, teeny,” he said as simply as that — two syllables falling from his tongue, but the old nickname tingled through your body, making heat grow into your cheeks.

“Good night, Hoon,” you whispered.

He sighed with the click of the door, an almost imperceptive sound, but it reverberated with him as he made the way back through your stairs, kicking mounts of sand and going back into his house.

Yeji stood in the middle of the kitchen, barefoot and as braced as a fifteen years old girl could look.

“Park Sunghoon,” she started, hands coming to her hips.

“Park Yeji,” he said, mocking her posture by mirroring it.

“You said you weren’t coming this summer.”

“I decided to come last minute,” he admitted

“Last minute as?”

“Yesterday morning?” he said. It had been an affirmation, but the way his voice raised in embarrassment subtly turned the period into a question mark.

“Would it be because of Y/N?” Yeji asked.

“You know what? I think it’s time for you to go to bed, Yeji,” he answered instead.

┈┈┈┈

When you left the shower, the night had already settled outside. The peace and silence only Uljin seemed to have already on its full leverage.

You found your mother sitting at her usual place on the back deck. Her chair facing the sea, and a book balanced on her knees. She wasn’t a keen reader, but she had a habit of trying, and you admired her for it.

“Seems like I lost a lot during those past weeks,” she said as soon as she caught sight of you.

The wind had enmeshed, but the floor was still warm with the memory of the sun beneath your feet as you walked closer and took the seat next to her, allowing yourself a brief second before you replied.

“I only agreed to come with Sunghoon yesterday.”

“It was indeed surprising when you called saying you were in the car with Sunghoon,” your mother said. “Especially after he left you waiting with luggage in hands last summer — but I meant Jongseong. You didn’t tell me you have broken up with him.”

“I kept forgetting.”

“That you have broken up?”

“No — that it’s something important enough to talk about,” you admitted. “I feel terrible admitting it, but I didn’t feel anything when we broke up, so I never remembered to tell it over the phone.”

“Your dummy,” your mother said, the words coming so affectionately that you barely noticed she had just scolded you. The chiding softened by the kindness in her voice. “You have to be in love for a breakup to hurt. I know you cared for Jongseong, but you have never been in love with him although you tried to.”

She did nothing to make her words easier to accept this time and your breath caught audibly with the sudden harshness of it, the salty air heavily setting on your lungs.

“Jongseong said almost the same thing,” you whispered. “He said I was always searching for Sunghoon’s ghost.”

“And were you?” she asked. You looked back at her, lips parted and tongue already rolling into a reply, but the words met an impasse in your mind, and you failed to.

Your mother sighed then, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I wish Sunghoon knew,” she said.

Although it had been Yeji who had called you on the following day, Sunghoon was the one standing at their deck’s stairs waiting for you, barefoot, and with only a pair of washed jeans and a white t-shirt completing his attire for the day.

You stared at him, more conspicuous for the fact that you tried to be inconspicuous about it. Ever since you both had moved to Seoul, it had been rare to see Sunghoon in anything that wasn’t dress pants, and button-down shirts, and the old familiarity of it pierced you.

It was a bright day, the sky a pale blue painting above the sea, and the hefty sunlight illuminated his features with such a soft glow.

You could swear he had turned younger.

“Yeji is going on a date,” he said as soon as you stepped closer enough. “Did you know about it?”

You felt a little lurch at that. The idea of lying seemed to attempt you. It would be so easy to simply say no — so easily to pretend you didn’t know why Yeji had called you. However, you had allowed the question to hang in for too long, and when you noticed, it was already too late to do so.

Sunghoon looked at you — really looked at you, his eyes narrowing as his jaw followed the same tensing motion. At first, you thought he was merely annoyed, but it suddenly occurred to you that he was feeling uneasy. In the middle of your silence, his finger tapped against his thighs. It could have been an insubstantial change to anyone else, but you knew Park Sunghoon all too well.

“Hoon,” you started. Although you didn’t know the words that would follow. Nothing sounded like something Sunghoon would be pleased to hear. And before you could think it through, Yeji appeared at the back door, a mug in her hands, and the most peaceful expression someone had ever moved towards you.

“Don’t worry about him,” she said. “He has been like this the whole morning, just come to my room.”

Yeji vanished almost as fast as she appeared, leaving you no option but to follow her ruling. You could feel Sunghoon trailing closely behind you as you entered the house and climbed up the stairs.

For a moment, Yeji said nothing about her brother’s following you into her room, the rotating fan being the only sound between the three of you, but then, she reached for a pillow and threw it, aiming at Sunghoon’s head.

He caught it in the air before he sat on the floor, completely unshaken.

“Go on, girls,” he said. “I won’t bother.”

And he didn’t. Aside from occasional huffs, Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He remained silent throughout the whole time you helped Yeji with her clothes and makeup. And only when she was checking the final result in the mirror, he spoke.

“Where is the mysterious boy taking you?” he asked.

“I am not telling you.”

“I think it’s a valid question, Yeji,” you said. “We should at least know where you are going.”

“The open-air cinema at the southern beach,” she said, dramatically rolling her eyes. The answer had been for you, but her reaction was entirely for Sunghoon.

“Happy?” she asked.

“Not really,” he replied, which meant he was — at least, a little bit.

The house’s bell rang, and Yeji sprinted at the echo of it, her bare feet pounding against the hardwood floor as she raced down the stairs.

You had prepared yourself to hold Sunghoon, but differently from what you expected, he remained still, legs outstretched with a deliberate calmness.

The front door was opened and then closed again, and only then did he move, looking up at you, a bite of a smile spreading on his lips before he finally stood up.

“Let’s go,” Sunghoon said, reaching for the pillow his sister had thrown at him and then one of her folded blankets, shoving both items beneath his arms.

“Where?”

“Suddenly, I feel like watching a movie at the beach.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s go, teeny.”

┈┈┈┈

The southern beach was bustling in a way you had never seen before. Blankets had been spread all over the white sand, and the air was thick with the scent of caramel popcorn, which was such an uncharacteristic scent for the Gyeongsang beaches. Yet the afternoon was slowly reaching the orange hours of sunset, the sky turning into a blend of orange and pink against the clouds. Everything about it being so carelessly beautiful — you knew it was something only the county could do.

You sat down on the just spread blanket, legs outstretched and drenched in sunlight as you leaned your head back, looking up at Sunghoon. Although he stood quietly on the sand, his fingers tapped absently against his thighs, the gesture somehow disconcerting and otherworldly indicative of the persistence of his uneasiness, and a twinge of concern settled over you.

“Hoon,” you called.

He flinched, his gaze darting towards you, but if anything he took your hand as you extended it to him, palm up and spread in an invitation that required no words. He slowly flung himself down on the blanket with you, his head on your lap and his body sprawled out to the remaining sunlight.

Sunghoon had always been beautiful, a storybook prince, your mother had once conveyed within shared whispers when you were fifteen. And although he was older now, he was still the same. His dark hair swept across his forehead tenderly and you brushed it back, fingertips pressed against his scalp ever so lightly before you tucked it behind his ear. He shivered despite the warmth of the day, his whole body reacting solely to the sensation of your fingers on him.

“Yeji is fifteen,” you managed to say. “It’s time for her to go on dates.”

“We didn’t go on dates when we were fifteen,” he debated.

“Of course, we were so glued to each other that no one wanted to come between us,” you said. “Well, I mean, except for some girls from your fan club — but back to the point, everyone else in our class was going on dates.”

Sunghoon fell quiet at that. The rustling of the other moviegoers being the only furor between both of you. Everywhere voices rose and fell, but the words themselves had been reduced to the echo of the sea waves.

You traced the back of his ear, a single finger following its curve and his eyes fluttered — as defenseless as he could be.

“I miss that time,” he confessed, but the words had left his lips so softly that if you weren’t paying close attention to him, you would believe it was just another wave crashing against the shore.

You leaned over him, casting him in a shadow. Your hair tickled over his cheeks and he went very — very still, a breath stuck into his lungs, but whatever you were going to say was interrupted.

“Is it Park Sunghoon and his teeny?”

You straightened yourself back, searching for the source of the voice, but Sunghoon didn’t immediately do the same. You had allowed the sun to bathe him again. And suddenly, it was too warm there, the summer air pressing firmly against his skin and making him dizzy.

“It is Park Sunghoon and his teeny.”

Although it had already been two years, Daeyeol didn’t seem to have changed from high school time. Your ex-classmate still bleached his hair into the impossible tone of white, and his infamous leather jacket hung above his tank top even though it was one of the warmest months of the year.

Sunghoon met your gaze and held it, a silent conversation happening within seconds before both of you turned to watch Daeyeol approaching.

“Daeyeol,” Sunghoon said, sitting back up.

“First of all, tell me, are you guys dating already?” he asked. It took you a heartbeat longer to make sense of what he had said, but when you did, you immediately could feel the heat growing into your cheeks.

“We are just friends,” you said, looking at Sunghoon, waiting for him to confirm your statement, but this time, he didn’t return your gaze. His eyes still focused on Daeyeol as his jaw clenched for a second, barely the length it takes to draw a breath.

“Too bad,” Daeyeol said. “We made a few bets on the graduation party, and I bet you both would be together within a year.”

“But anyway, I didn’t know you both were back in town. I am throwing a party at my new apartment on Saturday,” he continued. “I am inviting the whole class, and of course, it includes you both.”

Daeyeol made a theatrical turn to leave, ankles almost digging in the white sand, but then, he stopped, looking at Sunghoon through his shoulders. Only then did you notice the joint carelessly placed behind his ear.

He really didn’t change.

“Still with the same phone number, Sunghoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, I will send you the address.”

“It was-” you started.

“Unexpected?” Sunghoon supplied. “Strange?”

You nodded a little bit too eagerly to the alternatives, which earned a laugh from him. The sound had been so open and effortless — you found a smile rising to your lips as you watched him flange back on the blanket and turn his focus to the sky. The first stars had already begun to appear, tiny flecks softly mingling the sunset and reflecting on his eyes.

“You are right about Yeji,” he said. “She is grown up enough to commit her own mistake, and I will just be here to say, “I told you, men are all wolves”.”

“Sunghoon!”

“Also, should we go to Daeyeol’s party?” he asked, completely ignoring your protest.

“I don’t go to parties anymore.”

“I have seen you on one just three days ago.”

“Because it was Haneul’s last university party,” you retorted.

“C’mon, I miss going to parties with you.”

It was three minutes to seven in the evening when Sunghoon appeared at your front door. His university jersey above a white t-shirt and black dress pants on.

You opened your mouth, tongue already rolling onto the tease he just wanted to brag about having passed at a university in Seoul, but before you could do so, you heard your mother gasping in the kitchen, something initially incoherent, but then she directed it to you.

“Darling, the phone is for you,” she said.

You turned around, feeling the weight of Sunghoon’s gaze as he traced down your pinkish dress.

“Who’s that?” you asked, hauling your high heels from one hand to another to accept the headset. You couldn’t remember a soul that had your house’s phone number much less that would call on a Saturday night. But instead of coming up with an answer, your mother only shook her head, her eyes following the path to where Sunghoon stood almost guiltily.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, hi — it’s Jongseong,” he said as if you wouldn’t recognize his voice after months of dating. “Sorry, for calling at your house, but you didn’t pick up your phone.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t check my phone much.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“It’s alright, something happened?”

“No, it’s just that I am in Gyeongsang, my grandmother lives here too-”

“Pohang. We spent Christmas there, I remember.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice coming a bit stuck as if he had half held his breath. “I am driving back to Seoul on the first week of august, and I was thinking that maybe — maybe we could meet up?”

You looked behind and noticed that Sunghoon was still standing at your door. However, he had turned around, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his jacket as he gazed toward your family’s front garden with an attention too unpretentious to be unpretentious.

Sunghoon was interested in who might be on the phone, he only didn’t want you to know it.

“I-” you tried, turning your gaze away. But the word met an impasse between your mind and your tongue and you couldn’t find the strength to say no.

But being fair, you never found the strength to say no.

“Lunch, or just coffee — anything you feel comfortable with,” Jongseong said, and he sounded like he always did. He was barely twenty, but he had that easy cadence in his voice, the slow precision of someone who knew the weight of his being. He blamed his father, you thought he was just born different, but you had been together for a year and had known each other for another six months, and you came to learn that behind all of this, he was insecure.

You almost could picture him at the other end of the line: his bashful smile, almost like he was apologizing for even considering it, and you were suddenly back at the university campus a year ago, sitting at the garden as he asked you on a date for the very first time.

It was spring back then, but winter had been lingering in, turning his cheeks pink and fogging the glasses you didn’t even know he used.

“Alright.”

“I will message you once I settle the day,” he said.

“Alright.”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” he said.

Jongseong hung up so softly, it took another second for you to notice he did and another one to let go of it before you walked back to where Sunghoon stood.

You placed the high heels on the floor, avoiding Sunghoon’s gaze, but before you could do anything he was already kneeling in front of you, filling in your vision as he took one of your ankles in his hands and helped you put on your heels.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, the word hacking out of you. Sunghoon looked up at you then, and you knew he had heard the uneasiness in your voice too, but if anything he nodded at you, moving to your other ankle.

A breeze picked up, chiming your mother’s wind bell, a tangle of glass notes across the settling silence.

Sunghoon stood up, bottling you in the shadows with his full height. You couldn’t meet his eyes, so you concentrated instead on his shoulders, and how his collar didn’t lay flat against his skin because of his collarbones.

“Ready to have a blast?” he asked.

┈┈┈┈

The ride to Daeyeol’s apartment complex had taken twenty minutes, maybe twenty-five. But as you left the car, it felt like you had gone a hundred thousand kilometers away from Uljin.

It wasn’t just that the breezes no longer carried the brine scent of the seashore or that the houses hadn’t been built in the bungalow style you were used to. But, compared to the coastal part of Gyeongsang, everything here seemed new and expensive.

You once had heard that Daeyeol was the heir of a big retail chain, the sheer number of stores under his family ownership being so high that people stopped trying to hold them accountable when it had expanded to America.

And perhaps he was, but you still did not care about knowing.

Sunghoon took your hand, easily sliding his palm against yours and intertwining your fingers as he guided you through the street and closer to the complex.

As you approached the apartment, the sound of music hit you like a wave, the volume so loud and blaring. You wondered how none of his neighbors had filed a complaint yet.

“I bet he intimidated his neighbors to not file a complaint,” Sunghoon said.

You weren’t sure if you had vocalized your wonders or if Sunghoon had the same thought as you, but either way, it had been amusing.

“I bet he bribed them, it is more Daeyeol’s style,” you replied, stealing a laugh from Sunghoon.

“Or he convinced all his neighbors to come.”

“Fine, that’s Daeyeol’s style.”

As Sunghoon looked down at you, the corners of his lips quirked upwards, and his eyes crinkled. The sound of his laughter still lingered in the air, filling the space between you both with a warm and contagious fuel. He seemed so happy nowadays. You couldn’t help but smile in response, feeling a sense of ease wash over you by simply being with him.

“Let’s go,” he said.

There was no point in knocking if no one could listen, so Sunghoon only pulled the front door open and stepped inside. The mossy scent of the woods was immediately overtaken by tequila, and too many damp skins, weed, and the cheap beer from the forgotten cups scattered through the few pieces of furniture he held.

You took in a breath, wishing it would fill you so you wouldn’t need to breathe on the intoxicated air ever again.

“Sunghoon and his teeny!” Daeyeol screamed. But whatever came after had been only for Sunghoon, the furor of the place engulfing his voice before you could clasp it.

Daeyeol pointed at the end of the corridor, and you followed it, catching the makeshift bar before your ex-classmate stepped in front of your view, giving you only a wink and turning his attention entirely on something else.

“Do you want a drink?” Sunghoon asked, shouting in your ear. The vibration of his voice scattered shivers throughout your spine.

You nodded, and he moved through the apartment as people stopped you, greeting both of you with an acknowledgment you couldn’t return. Your mind was always stuck between families’ names and faces you were sure you could recognize if Sunghoon hadn’t pushed further so soon.

He only eased up when he reached the makeshift bar. The options were tequila, beer, soju, and a great variation of flavored vodka.

You thought of asking for the tequila just to see the surprise on his face because you always had gone for the sweet and Sunghoon knew it. Actually, he had been the first one to point this fact out, so instead, your finger immediately followed the patch to the flavored vodkas, and he caught two cups, extending one to you, and taking the other.

Sunghoon emptied the cup with a quick and practiced movement of his wrist before he smashed it on the table.

You laughed then, taken aback at his sudden outburst as you followed suit. The process was repeated enough times for the alcohol to make its effect, and your thoughts began to slur.

The song changed then, almost too loud to be fully understood, but you recognize it, an old pop song which you didn’t truly know the name of, yet it played so many times on the radio and at parties for you to not know at least the idea of the lyrics. Sunghoon recognized it, too.

You weren’t sure if you had been the one to reach for Sunghoon first or if he had been the one to reach for you. But your hand was on his as he pushed back through the apartment, finding the dance floor. And as the song hit the chorus, his hands were on your waist, bringing you closer to him and swinging you to the song.

Sunghoon was being careless in a way that made your whole body tingle, dizzy in alcohol and happiness, tripping all over.

You shouted the lyrics to him, and he shouted the lyrics back to you. And suddenly, both of you were laughing senselessly as if it was the only thing you ever thought about doing — like it could have been just the two of you in the world.

You were close — too close. Sunghoon had to look down to find your gaze, and when he did, you felt his breath against your mouth, the softest gust of warm air against your lips. The seconds seemed to melt together, and you couldn’t tell how long you had been breathing on each other when his fingers spread at the side of your neck, thumb seizing for your cheek as he angled you up to him. You were already warm from the sticky air and dancing, but you could swear you grew even warmer when he closed his eyes and came closer, brushing his nose on yours.

Your every sense was acutely aware of his proximity. You could feel the firmness of his chest pressing against yours, and the steady rhythm of his breath. Sunghoon was all around you, all inside of you, the scent of his citrus perfume and the Uljin breezes laboriously overtaking the intoxicated air. And you trembled with the thought, a little chill settling through your skin despite the warmth of the place.

But then, he clenched his jaw, brows knitted together as if something was suddenly hurting him, and before you could ask what happened, he moved, abruptly and all at once stepping back.

“Let’s go,” he said.

And the moment slipped through — like a dream you wake up to hastily from. By the time his hand reached for you, fingers finding the slots between yours and guiding you through the mess of bodies, you wondered if you truly almost had kissed your best friend.

“Doesn’t this type of place usually have fire escapes for emergencies?” he yelled.

“I think so,” you yelled back. “Are we in an emergency?”

The question seemed to have taken Sunghoon anew because he looked at you, lips parted in a retort that wasn’t coming fast enough.

“Yes,” he exhaled in the end. “The smell of weed is making me sick, and it’s too warm in here.”

Sunghoon reached for a window in the back wall, shoving it open. A cool breeze rushed in and caressed your skin, tingling it as you watched him jump out onto the fire escape, his figure momentarily silhouetted against the backdrop of the cityscape.

He held his hand out to you, helping you jump through the window frame. His hands firm on yours even as you landed on the stairs. The sun had long set, the world settling hazy and dark, lavender clouds high up in the sky, but the breeze was calm that night, and the heat was still lingering, making the air heavy and all summer-made.

You followed Sunghoon through the stairs and away from Daeyeol’s apartment, or rather, he followed you, standing tall behind you, and always within reach. He had an open hand just hovering by your side as if he was ready to catch you if you tripped over because of your poor choice of shoes.

The rooftop was empty. No lawn chair or anything that would be expected for a place like this. If anything, someone had abandoned a beer can there, what had remained of the alcohol used to extinguish a cigarette.

“I am so tired,” you said, sparing yourself on the rooftop, the shingles still warm beneath the thin material of your dress.

Sunghoon took his jacket off, putting it on your legs before lying beside you. You rolled onto your side to look at him, and he did the same.

“Am I getting old already?” you asked, immediately stealing a laugh from him. It had been a hardly there sound, but you could taste the vodka on his breath, feel the bitter taste on your tongue although you weren’t even sure when you had wandered that close again.

“Definitely, but when was the last time you have been to a party and enjoyed it like this?”

“I think it was during the winter last year,” you said. “With you still.”

“We used to go stupid every night,” he said.

“What a tragedy.”

“And then you started dating Jongsuk-,”

“Jongseong,” you corrected, but he continued as if you had never spoken, rolling onto his back and turning his attention to the sky.

“And stopped going to parties.”

“No!”

“Yes, when you started dating him, you stopped going to parties.”

“Don’t mix up things like that,” you argued. “You started dating the whole university campus, and I had no one to stay with during the parties so obviously I stopped going, but when I started dating him, I went a few times.”

“Fine, you did go, once or twice.”

“Because he disliked those parties, and if I didn’t go with him I would be alone,” you said. “Also there was that time you got so wasted, you started yelling at Jongseong—”

“That he didn’t deserve you,” he said. “Maybe I was too passionate on the way I had said it that night, but I still believe he doesn’t.”

You snorted, your hand bumping into his.

“I am serious,” he said. “The moment you accepted to share the telescope with me and Yeji that night you became my problem, and by my problem, I mean I care about who is with you.”

“So who would deserve me then?”

You looked at him, but he didn’t return your gaze. His eyes were still focused on the night sky, watching the lavender clouds rushing through. Despite the absence of light, you could see how his cheeks were flushed by the combination of summer heat and alcohol.

Sunghoon licked at his lips, and for a moment you thought he had decided to ignore your question, but then, he started, his voice so lowly it almost got lost in the middle of night.

“You deserve someone who loves you with every single beat of his heart, someone who thinks about you constantly, someone who spends every minute of every day just wondering what you’re doing, where you are, and if you’re alright. You deserve someone who will treat you with respect, and love every part of you, including your flaws,” he said. “You should be with someone who could make you happy, really happy — and I never felt like you were really happy.”

Sunghoon finally looked at you again, and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The humidity air had curled his hair in the same fond way you remembered and when he smiled, his dimples appeared.

Although it had been a novelty to hear Sunghoon speaking like this, it hadn’t been a surprise. Sunghoon was the type of person who laughed easily, and forgave even faster. He gravitated toward the person in most need in the room without even noticing.

And maybe that’s why he came to you.

You needed him — more than you would ever tell.

To move to Uljin at such a young age had been easy, but looking back, you wondered if it would have been the same without him.

If it would have always felt like a home.

“You know,” you said, barely hearing yourself beneath the sound of your pounding heart. “If you ever find this guy, bring him to me, I will marry him in no time.”

He laughed at it, slightly throwing his head back and when he looked at you again, his eyes were soft — the night sky turning his brown eyes even darker as he reached for you. The tip of his fingers ran along your cheek and he cradled the side of your face.

“You are my best friend,” he said.

“And you are mine,” you answered, but your chest ached with each and every word.

You were just looking at each other. There were no hard edges to grab hold of, no different characteristics on this moment’s beginning or end, nothing to separate it from the other millions you had. But you for the first time after so long you caught yourself thinking what if — what if you wanted something more?

And what a terrifying thing it was.

You didn’t like pool parties — especially if it was Jang Yujin’s pool party.

But late July brought the record of high temperatures to Uljin, the weight of summer pressing and ensuring that the entire county stayed spared between the sea and particular pools.

As Yeji’s friends took the sea behind your houses, Sunghoon felt it would be better for you to go somewhere else. So, despite the fact that you hated Yujin, you found yourself barefoot on the fresh grass of her family house as Sunghoon extended you a cup of cherry vodka.

“Fruity drink to my soft drinker,” he said.

You hardly registered his saying before you caught sight of Daeyeol approaching Sunghoon from behind, a mischievous grin that matched his companion.

“Anything valuable in the pockets?” Daeyeol asked.

“No,” Sunghoon replied, but if it had been to the question or a protest to what was about to come was uncertain. Daeyeol was already lifting Sunghoon by his armpits as your other ex-classmate took his ankles and between one breath and another, Sunghoon was launched into the pool.

The effect was instantaneous. As Sunghoon hit the water with a smack, the whole backward turned into a mess. Some people cheered as others decided to get into the water too.

You worried Sunghoon might be mad, but as he appeared up the surface, scrubbing a hand through his hair, he was smiling.

“Help me out, teeny,” he said.

“Promise me you won’t pull me in,” you said, immediately regretting it. If it hadn’t passed through Sunghoon’s mind, it now was the only thing he could think about.

You stepped back, but he was already leaving the pool, coming in your direction in fast steps. And before you could run away, one of his arms wrapped around your waist as the other found the back of your knees. He held you tight to him, his soaked clothes already cooling your body as he moved and hurled both of you to the edge of the pool.

You pressed your face into his neck, bracing yourself.

“I am here,” Sunghoon said. The first thing you ever hear after the dull sound of the underwater.

You didn’t notice how agitated you were until you felt his hands moving through your body, shifting you so you were straddling his waist.

“You should have let me teach you how to swim when we were younger,” he said.

“Why? I always had you to hold me,” you replied, and Sunghoon laughed, an easy and unpretentious burst of sound whistling across the breeze, and your heart lurched at it. You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, fingers blindly curling on the front of his shirt as you closed your eyes — that sound suddenly reminded you of the shared cakes on his mother’s coffee table and the nights spent on the hardwood floor of your bedroom.

“Yes, you always had me to do everything for you,” he said.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened on you, his fingers deepening into your skin as if his touch itself was a promise he wanted to make. His chest pressed against yours, and you wondered if he could feel your heartbeat — if it was rattling against your ribs as loud as it seemed to be.

All around you, people were still on their own fun, laughing and pushing friends into the water as the sun kept going down, shafts of orange and pink streaming across the water, but you only knew him.

You felt hazed by his closeness, by the way his citrus perfume blended with the scent of chlorine and cedar — by the way he shivered beneath your touch, his breath hitching when you slipped down, mouth accidentally running through his shoulder.

“Teeny?” Sunghoon called, his voice all soft and compelling, “You will always have me.”

He pressed his cheek to the side of your head, and for a while, neither of you moved, lingering in this moment of close silence for what felt like ages.

“I think I will go inside and get something to eat,” you said then, and Sunghoon nodded, carrying you to the edge of the pool and seating you there, but he didn’t immediately let you go. Sunghoon lingered there, thumbs stroking circles into the soft skin on the inside of your leg, just above your knee as his fingertips hid underneath the hem of your dress.

He tugged at the edge of it, fingers light and playful, and it made the air feel warmer, heavier — like the sun was suddenly warmer above you.

You could feel his eyes on your chest, just above the neckline of your dress, catching the scattering of moles that seemed to be growing each other day beneath the Uljin’s suns.

And then his lips were on your cheek, pressing a kiss wet from the water still.

“Bring me something too?”

┈┈┈┈

Inside the house, the air conditioner was fully working, tingling your skin and making you follow the path to the guest room instead of the kitchen.

Sunghoon’s jacket was still on the pile of clothes and purses above the bed. As you reached for it, you felt a phone ringing in his pocket. At first, you thought it would be his, but as you took it, you noticed it was yours.

Yeji’s name shone for you, and you hadn’t a second thought before picking it up.

“Why aren’t you picking up?” she asked, the words coming stuttering as if she was forcing them through.

Your heart hummed against your ears so loud you couldn’t even think straight. You and Sunghoon had left her safety to enjoy the beach with her friends, and if there was something genuinely dangerous, you couldn’t think of it.

“Yeji, what happened?”

“I was stupid, sis, he doesn’t like me.”

You breathed in, taking a quiet second to calm your pulse.

“Hey, it’s alright,” you whispered. “Where are you? Are you home still?”

“Yes,” she said. “Can you come — can you come here?”

“Of course, wait for me just a bit, alright?”

┈┈┈┈

By the time you stepped out of the house, Sunghoon had already left the pool, a borrowed towel in his hand, and Jang Yujin standing by his side. She touched all over him, her fingers grazing his chest before she curled it on his shirt, leaning closer as she pretended to help him.

It was silly the way you felt your heartstrings being pulled at the view especially because it was no novelty — Yujin acted like this back in high school too, but you couldn’t help it despite the fact that you had bigger problems than someone flirting with your best friend.

“Hoon,” you called. You didn’t intend to make your voice sound frantic, but it came that way. And perhaps it had been because you already had his jacket hurled around you, one hand twisted on the material as the other held your previously abandoned high heels, Sunghoon was already slipping away from Yujin, walking towards you as if there was no one else in his eyesight.

“What happened?” he asked, hands promptly cupping the sides of your neck to angle you up to him.

“Yeji called. She was crying,” you said. “I didn’t — I didn’t understand well, but it’s something with the guy she went out with.”

Sunghoon nodded, his thumb drawing reassuring circles on your skin as he availed the situation.

“Have you gotten the car keys?” he asked. It was your time to nod. “Alright, let’s go.”

┈┈┈┈

It was eight in the night when Sunghoon pulled into his driveway, his house so dark that it was hard to imagine Yeji was still there. Even her room had the lights turned off, and only when you called for her did she move, but it had been only enough to peer through the edges of her sheets.

Although there were six missed calls on your phone, Sunghoon’s phone had been idle throughout the whole party. And if it didn’t make it clear that she wanted to talk to you, the way her eyes traveled between you and Sunghoon a few times in hesitation was.

“Hoon,” you called. “I think the bakery is still open, could you bring us something?”

His gaze encountered yours for a brief second before he sighed, walking toward Yeji, and kissing the top of her head. He said nothing at it. He just quietly slipped into his role as an older brother and left.

You crawled into the bed with her, wrapping your arms around her from behind.

“You are smelling like chlorine and alcohol,” she murmured.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“Do you want to talk?” you asked.

“Even with you, I feel embarrassed.”

“Why so?”

“I feel stupid, you know?” she said. “He asked me out and I was already head overhill for him, and now I am like this because I found out he just wanted to make his ex jealous.”

You breathed in, perhaps so harshly that it had overtaken all the other sounds in the room.

Yeji chuckled at you.

“It’s alright, I have already gone through all the phases of mourning throughout the afternoon,” she said. “I am not blaming you and Hoon, please, do not take it like this. But I think I rushed to the first nice guy because I have grown up with people talking about how you and Hoon are soulmates.”

“A fate written in the stars, mom always says,” Yeji continued, and although she claimed to have passed through all the mourning already, her voice broke at the end, and although you couldn’t see her, you knew fresh tears had sprung to her eyes. “I wanted to live it too.”

You tightened your arms around her, bringing her so close that when she sobbed, the force of it resonated as if you were the one crying.

“Yeji, what is yours is reserved. And I am not only talking about a great love but anything in life. Sometimes we get so tied up in an idea that we miss out on the amazingness of what we could actually have,” you said. “What’s yours will come at the right time, so do not stress about anything. You will only get hurt.”

“I am hurt,” she said.

“I know, and I am sorry for it.”

“I am sorry too.”

You weren’t sure how long you had been there, but by the time Sunghoon arrived, Yeji had already drifted off to sleep, her breathing so slow and steady. You rose to your feet holding your breath, trying to make as little noise as possible until you were back in the living room, finding Sunghoon laying out the pastries on the coffee table.

He caught sight of you then and rewarded you with his best smile.

“I took a bit longer because I guessed Yeji wanted to talk with you alone,” he said. “How’s she?”

“Better, I think, she fell asleep,” you told. “I didn’t imagine she would.”

Sunghoon nodded at you, moving his attention back to the coffee table. You thought he would offer to walk you home, call it a night, and let you go, but instead, he gestured to the pastries.

“I got your favorite,” he said.

And it was so natural to fold yourself on Jiyoung’s furry rug, so familiar to help Sunghoon line all the sweets and share. For a moment, you were ten again, doing it for the first time on a winter night. You were fourteen again, doing it after your middle school graduation.

“Is it the moment when I say ‘I told you so, men are all wolves’?” Sunghoon asked, bringing you back to the present moment.

“It is,” you admitted. “But please don’t.”

Perhaps it was because of the way you seemed sad there, the full frown that had taken over your face, but instead of continuing with his scolding, he reached for you across the table, his trained fingers finding the slots between yours and squeezing your hand a little tighter, and it was such a small gesture, but something about it felt so reassuring.

“Yeji will be fine,” he said. “I will make her tell me his name, and I will end him.”

A laugh burst out of you at his words, and that was it — the spell was broken. Sunghoon laughed back at you and you squeezed his hand again, a signal for him to stop it and be quiet, but he did not, and you came to the conclusion you actually didn’t mind it.

His laugh was perhaps your favorite sound in the world.

“Try this one,” he said, extending you one of the pastries. “The baker said it was a new flavor.”

You leaned over the coffee table, taking his wrist with your free hand and guiding the pastry to your mouth so you could taste it. Your lips barely brushed against his fingertips, but his heart raced beneath your touch, and you let him go.

“It was kinda different,” he murmured. “The bakery.”

“The owner had been planning to do a renovation since last summer,” you said. “He told me when I went there with Jongseong.”

It’s a simple answer, a way to keep the conversation going, but when Sunghoon found your gaze, you could feel the heaviness that Jongseong’s name settled in the conversation.

“Jongseong,” he whispered, and you knew it had been an accident — his thoughts coming too loudly because Sunghoon never cared to say Jongseong’s name correctly. “Do you still talk?”

“We weren’t, but — but he called last week,” you confessed. “He is visiting his grandma. She lives in Gyeongsang too so he wanted us to meet.”

“And you agreed?”

“I did.”

“Do you really love him?” Sunghoon asked. The question stunned you unwillingly to silence, heart racing all together with your mind.

“No” would be the most logical answer. You knew you never really fell in love with Jongseong, but you also knew the implications this statement carried being said out loud — that overwhelming confirmation that maybe you had been in love with Sunghoon instead.

“I don’t think so,” you could have said, but you had already allowed the question to hang in for too long, and in the middle of your silence, Sunghoon had created his answer.

“I still think he doesn’t get you, but I want you to be happy,” he said. “And if it’s with him, I will try to support you.”

“Try,” you echoed, earning a smile from him.

Sunghoon dropped the pastry back into the bowl and spilled himself on the rug. You followed after, being as close as you could without touching.

“Thank you for always taking care of Yeji,” he suddenly said.

“She is my sister too, remember?” you asked, immediately causing him to snort.

Back in the years, it had been a threat, she was your responsibility when her desires were too girly, or when Sunghoon was too tired to follow, but it became something you didn’t mind.

Yeji was as much as your sister as she was Sunghoon’s.

He reached for you, twisting a lock of your hair between his fingertips before he pulled it behind your ear.

“Of course, I remember.”

A faint glow came through the windows, painting stripes of light and shadow over the walls, over Sunghoon’s cheek. There was enough light just for you to see his smile. And you wished you told him then, that he smelled like summer and citrus grooves on the sun, like childhood and home.

You wished you told him how much you loved him.

“Can you stay the night?” he asked, and almost unconsciously, you held your breath. “Just in case she wakes up, all I will be able to say is ‘I told you’ and I doubt it is what she needs to hear.”

You doubted it would be Sunghoon’s reaction, but you nodded nevertheless.

“I can,” you whispered. “Of course, I can.”

You reached up to his shoulders, and he shifted onto the rug, maneuvering closer to you. One of his hands found your waist as the other reached up to your neck, his fingertips brushing and twisting on the hair at your nape. There was a certain stillness on it — your fingers on each other, your breaths getting tangled in the small space between you.

And despite the fact you could feel your chest aching, you had to admit that you were happy. Some people lived their whole lives without getting to experience the type of intimacy you had with him.

Perhaps Sunghoon was your soulmate.

Perhaps you were really in love with him, but you would rather have this tiny sliver of him forever than have all of him for just a moment and know you had to relinquish all of it when you were through.

You could never lose Sunghoon again.

You couldn’t.

It doesn’t matter if your parents were out of town, it was Sunday night, and your seat was reserved on the Park’s dinner table as it always had been.

Sunghoon came to pick you up, showing up at your front door and holding his hand out for you as if it were too dangerous to jump the bunches that separated your families’ properties and walk the path to their front porch on your own.

The Park’s front door hung open that evening, and you could hear Yeji’s selected playlist already resonating through the speakers in the living room, some love song from the 80s reaching for you across the summer breeze altogether with Jiyoung’s faint commands.

“How is Yeji?” you asked, stopping at your troughs.

Sunghoon stopped by your side, peering inside his family’s house before he turned to you. The sun was still hefty despite the fact it was already seven o’clock, patches of sunlight dancing over his shoulders, over the striking features of his face. His hair almost looked gold beneath all of this light and you had to tell yourself to not reach for him — to not trace the soft line of his jaw and comb the hair back from his forehead.

Especially when he smiled down at you, his lips curling almost blearily.

“She says she is alright, but once in a while I catch her staring at the walls with a frown,” he said. “But don’t worry,”

“I will still get his name and end him,” Sunghoon whispered, leaning into your side and you could feel the smile in his voice, the warmth of it scattering and weaving through your body.

You knew it was a fake threat, a joke you were supposed to follow, but you couldn’t. Your body was somehow still stuck in his proximity and you let his words hang in. The evening was still warm from the late july sun, but it had become almost unbearable with his lips brushing against your ear. You could barely breathe beneath his attention and you were suddenly thankful when Jiyoung appeared at the door and caused him to step away.

“Come in, the table is all set,” she said. “I prepared bossam for the night.”

“My favorite,” you said, earning a smile from her.

And for a while, everything was fine again — easy even. But Jiyoung had recently discovered her new favorite wine and by the time the dessert was finished and Air Supply started singing about his secret inner thoughts through the wireless speakers, she was drunk, stumbling to her feet.

“Kwangho!” she exclaimed. “We danced to this song at our high school dance.”

“We know,” Yeji quickly remarked with a scowl.

When Jiyoung got drunk her brain seemed to always reach for the same memories: her high school dance, a terrible dinner with her parents, and her marriage with Kwangho.

Tonight it seemed to have selected her high school dance.

“Dance with me,” Jiyoung said, causing a chuckle to escape from your lips as you watched the woman holding her hand to her husband and standing him up.

They retreated from the table laughing through their drunk state and stumbling until they found the back doors and disappeared, leaving the room suddenly too calm — not quiet, the chords of the love song kept resonating and dispersing through the whole room together with Sunghoon’s parents’ small talk coming from the doors but it was steady, peaceful, an echo of the approaching late hours.

“I will take the dishes,” Yeji said.

“I will help you,” you offered, reaching for your plate, but Yeji was fast on taking it away.

“Drunk or not. Mom will kill me if she knows I allowed you to do any real chords in this house.”

You looked at Sunghoon in search of some support then, but he only shook his head, his lips already curving into a fond smile.

“I don’t want to get killed too,” he said.

You could feel your mouth opening in another protest as you turned back at Yeji, but Sunghoon brushed his knee against yours and when your gazes encountered, he didn’t wait for you to say what was on your mind, he immediately held his hand in the small space between you.

“Dance with me too,” he whispered.

You blinked at him, body going slack as you tried to find any sign of a joke on him. But Sunghoon remained still, his cheeks flushed by the same alcohol you indulged in and the late summer heat as he stared at you.

“I don’t know how to slow dance,” you finally said.

“Neither do I, but we can figure it out.”

You took his hand, allowing him to stand you up and take you to the side of the room.

It was no novelty to have Sunghoon guiding you, but there was something different about doing it outside the furor of the university parties and cheap clubs, away from the dimmed lights and intoxicated air.

It felt softer.

He placed your hands on his shoulders, but he didn’t let go easily. You felt his fingertips slowly tracing your pulse before his hands molded to your waist, bringing you closer at the same time he leaned in — just enough to rest his cheek against yours, but every contact was like a static shock, a spark of life where his skin met your skin, and your heart picked up.

“It’s such a sad song,” Sunghoon pointed out. “I don’t know why mom gets so happy over it.”

“Since when have you been fluent in English?” you laughed.

“I have been studying, but living with Jiyoung you have to know the lyrics of this song,” he said. “Between the fiftieth time and the fiftieth first you get curious about it.”

“And what do the lyrics say?” you asked, moving back to look at him. Your hands slid to the back of his neck for support, but your palms fitted so well on the slope curve that you couldn’t help but run your palm over it, fingers curling at his hair and making Sunghoon shiver beneath your touch, the soft rustle of his breath hitching against your skin almost imperceptibly.

It took him another moment to reply.

“He likes this girl — no, he is obsessed with her,” he whispered. “And he knows he is lost without her, but he is also afraid of letting her know it.”

“Why?”

“Well — this part is not in the lyrics,” he said, and you laughed at it, softly and ignoring the fact that your heart was slamming inside of your chest. “Was my analysis approved by my linguist student?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I always thought he simply meant love could be made out of nothing.”

“So plain.”

Sunghoon swirled you, a twist of his body that led you away from him, spinning on the tip of your toes for a quiet second, before he brought you back to him. His hand caught your waist again, slipping through the thin material of your dress until his fingers found the lace on your waistband.

“Nevermind. I think we are doing it wrong,” he said, letting you go suddenly and abruptly before he sunk himself onto his family’s couch.

You followed after, less forceful as you took the space at his side. You didn’t touch him, but you could feel the heat radiate from his skin and it was just as dizzying.

“When is your date with the dummy?” Sunghoon asked.

“Jongseong,” you corrected, but now it was a name that carried more emotions than facts. “He will be here on Tuesday, and it’s not a date.”

“Sure.”

“He probably just wants to catch up — we were friends before dating.”

The song changed on the wireless speakers, and the one that came on next was faster, sprightly, and lively. You could hear his parents laughing on the back deck, but when his fingers thumped against his thighs, you knew it was a reaction to his uneasiness rather than him following the rhythm of the song.

“You don’t need to do this, you know?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Please everyone. You started dating Jongseong because you felt sorry to reject him, and I am quoting you on this. You went to that party because Haneul asked you,” he said. “You are everywhere Yeji asks you to be — you are everywhere I ask you to be, and I admit my guilt about it.”

“If you want to go on a date or whatever you want to call it with Jongseong, it’s alright, but if you don’t — please, don’t force yourself to be there.”

“Hoon,” you called, although you weren’t sure what words were supposed to follow, the ideas of your thoughts coming faster than the certitude of it.

“Call me,” he whispered then. “If something happens there.”

“Sure,” you whispered back.

“You are my best friend, teeny.”

“And you are mine.”

August was what your grandma used to call the fickle month. It was the seam between july blue skies and september rains. Just yesterday night, the sky was clean, with not a single cloud to bloat the stars, but as you opened the front door, you not only encountered Park Jongseong but also the promise of rain. The low rumble of thunder that could be heard in the distance, and made the air almost static.

As you glanced past Jongseong’s shoulders, you couldn’t help but notice his showy convertible parked on your family’s driveway with its hood down. Jongseong must have caught your gaze, for his smile turned into something closer to embarrassment.

“Not the best option for the weather,” he said. “But it’s the only one that I got. I can close the roof if you want.”

“People buy a convertible for only one reason,” you said, and Jongseong laughed at that. The sound was so open and easy that you couldn’t help but allow a smile to rise to your lips.

Once, when you both were still dating, you had questioned why he would have bought a convertible when he lived in Seoul, such a rainy city for the majority of the time, but he only smiled and said the exact same thing, a bite of a smile crossing through his lips before he raced through the night and beneath the city lights.

So he drove you with the hood down, the wind trailing and tangling through your hair with the heady smell of rain as the county rolled past you.

Jongseong wasn’t the type to make small talk, so he didn’t attempt to speak under the thrumming engine, nor when he opened the café shop door, holding it still as you stepped past him.

You found it easy to slide into a booth across from him, easy to let your gaze meet his, small smiles playing on both of your mouths. You ordered a smoothie as Jongseong ordered a coffee and a plate of cake for each of you — the same flavor, and you had to bite your tongue to not say it would be a waste because you could share.

But sharing cakes was your thing with Sunghoon.

“How have you been?” Jongseong finally asked.

“Fine, yes, how about you?”

“Fine,” Jongseong said. “Nothing like spending a month at Nana’s house.”

“I can understand, your grandmother is such a lovely person.”

“She asked about you — actually, she asked how I allowed you to escape,” he said, and you laughed at this, cheeks turning a bit warmer and Jongseong’s lip twitched up.

“You have been asked about too,” you said.

“Sunghoon’s mother or yours?”

“How did you-”

“They were the only ones that didn’t seem to genuinely hate me,” he said, head ducking the way he did whenever he was unsettled.

“I am sorry,” you said because you really were — because you didn’t know what else you could say to him.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Actually, that’s the whole point — everyone knows your history with Sunghoon is way deeper than what you both tell. I knew it even before we started dating and it was my option to ask you out,”

“When I told Heeseung I was going to do it he said ‘Y/N? You mean Sunghoon’s Y/N?’.” Jongseong laughed, but you couldn’t do the same. “There was also that night when we just had started to go further into our relationship and you were at my studio. It was three in the morning or something, and Sunghoon called you really wasted,”

“You were so worried about him that I knew there was no one else in the world for you like him. And when we arrived at his place and he started shouting because you were with me late at night, I knew there was no one else in the world for him too.”

A look of disappointment passed over Jongseong’s features, too vivid and too unmistakable to be something buried in the past, and once again, you felt sorry.

“Then you both stopped talking and I know it’s so selfish to say, but I thought something was going to change,” he said. “Yet I only saw you lose the last sparkle in you. I always knew that you loved him, but I feel like I threw it on you when we broke up.”

“You didn’t.”

“I felt like I did,” Jongseong whispered, his gaze holding steadily onto yours, and you could feel he was studying you even before he continued.

“Listen, and please do not take it as your ex-boyfriend saying, but as a friend instead,” he asked. “Heeseung told me that Sunghoon lost it all after you two stopped talking. He would cling to the couch until the parties were over, staring at everything as if he were looking for something that was never coming. ‘Vultures spinning above of what was left of him’ were his words actually,”

“I don’t know what keeps you two from going after each other. If you can’t see it, or if it’s all about doubt and fear, but if he is too scared, you should do it,” Jongseong said. “It’s sad to see you losing what you could actually have.”

You didn’t argue with him. You couldn’t. Your heart was beating too fast, tripping over each heartbeat and making it impossible for you to think straight.

Behind him, the café was still blasting with life. A couple just a table away were sharing the same piece of cake, and when the woman laughed, you felt a longing inside of your heart.

You looked back at Jongseong, but he was already taking the last sip of his coffee.

“Let’s go, I will take you home.”

┈┈┈┈

Jongseong left you on the Park’s driveway, not waiting for you to get to the door to make a turn, his convertible disappearing through the street before you even reached the first stair, and honestly, it was better that way — no eyes watching as you mustered the courage to simply keep moving forward.

You rang the bell once, and then twice, but no answer came. Sunghoon’s Jeep was the only car in the driveway, with no sign of Kwangho’s gray sedan and you took a deep breath before you gathered up the courage to open the door like you normally could.

The door scraped open, and you shuffled in, blinking in the sudden lack of clarity until your vision got adjusted, the only light coming was from the back door. The sun hid behind the storm that never seemed close enough to fall.

You looked up and caught sight of him, leaving his room upstairs and closing the last few buttons of his blue shirt as he reached the first stair.

Sunghoon paused when he found you, lips slightly parting as he stared.

“You didn’t pick up the door,” you mumbled.

“I was on it,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“Not that I mind,” he said, making his way down the stairs. When he stopped in front of you, he bottled you in the shadows with his full height, and it was one of those moments when you realized how much he had grown up.

“Where’s everyone?” you asked. “It’s so silent here.”

“Dad has a conference in Angok, mom always goes with him and Yeji decided to stick around because of the food,” Sunghoon said.

“Smart, I miss my dad’s conferences,” you said, immediately earning a snort from him.

“I thought Jongseong took you out to eat, but you seem as hungry as ever,” he said. “C’mon, I think there’s something in the kitchen.”

None of you bothered to turn the lights on. The path from the stairs to the kitchen was so familiar that you could have done it with your eyes closed. You knew where to step, and where to move so you didn’t hit any of Jiyoung’s furniture. So you both leaned on the kitchen island with the dim light of the end of the afternoon and mixed leftover pastries with Yeji’s experimental cupcakes.

“So,” Sunghoon said, subtly clearing his throat. His fingers thumped against the surface and you felt your chest aching. “Are you two back together?”

“No.”

He stopped at your answer, all at once, and for an instant, something flashed across his face. But it had been too brief, too fleeting — stolen by surprise when thunder hit the shore and his gaze fled to the back doors.

“Why?” he whispered, and it had been so low that if you weren’t paying close attention to him, you doubted you would have noticed it.

“Hoon,” you called, and you hated how you sounded desperate then. The verge of your tears coming in before your thoughts.

You didn’t remember making the decision to move toward Sunghoon, but suddenly, you were there, standing so close that the air felt snuffed. His hands promptly found the sides of your neck, holding you up to him. And when his gaze encountered yours, his eyes were surprisingly bright beneath the dim light.

“Because I couldn’t — no, because I can’t love someone as much as I love you.”

Sunghoon stopped at your words, and the silence that followed was almost mocking. You had lived a good part of your life in Uljin, but you couldn’t remember a day when the waves had been this silent. Your mother’s wind bell had gone idle, and the breeze carried nothing but the promise of the rain — even the thunder had ceased.

“Teeny,” he whispered, and perhaps it had been the way his voice broke at it — perhaps it had been the way his hands fell away from your skin, but your heart wavered in your chest.

You could take a rejection from everyone but him.

You could lose anyone but Sunghoon.

In your mind, you saw Haneul, perhaps the first person who ever had put into words what everyone only spoke as half thoughts. You heard Yeji telling you about Jiyoung and soulmates, and you thought of Jongseong, just a few hours ago saying how there was no way Sunghoon didn’t love you back.

How could they all be so wrong?

“Teeny,” he repeated.

The kitchen was too warm, too sweet, pastries and cupcakes sugary all together with the scent of his perfume and suddenly you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“You really know how to drive one’s mad,” he said. “I didn’t know the difference between loving you and being in love with you. You’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember,”

“And then you kissed me at that New Year’s party.”

You lurched at his words, an incredulous gasp fleeing through your lips before you could even control it. You couldn’t remember doing it. New Year’s party or anywhere else, you couldn’t remember ever kissing Sunghoon.

One of his dark brows lifted, but there was no amusement in his face as he considered you.

“After we opened the second bottle of flavored vodka or something. It was close to midnight already — we were pretty drunk, and you—” he stopped. “You really don’t remember it?”

“We kissed — actually, we made out in the middle of the living room and I swear, if you didn’t tell me you were starting to feel dizzy when I carried you to my room, I would—” Sunghoon stopped once again, and you could feel his words stuttering and stammering. “I held your hair as you threw up — I held you throughout the whole night as you were sick, but when you woke up in the morning, you said we should forget about everything because it was just too embarrassing for you.”

There was no way the world tripped, but you felt as if the ground had slipped through your feet. Everything was so unstable that you shrugged away, pressing your back against the kitchen island for support.

“I don’t remember,” you whispered. “I mean, I remember getting sick, but before it—”

“Yeah, I — I realized it now, but I thought you were embarrassed about having kissed me and I took it as a rejection, so I started dating random girls, anyone, really. I tried to take my mind off you, tried to forget about your kisses and how you made me feel,” he said. “And it was going half alright, well, until you started dating Jongseong.”

“And I know I had been the worst friend then, and you had the whole right to stop talking to me. But I had this thought for a while that maybe — maybe we could be like the old times again because now I’ve realized that no matter where you are or what you are doing, or who you are with, I will always honestly, truly, completely love you and I would hold this forever — I could be forever your best friend if it meant you were happy where else.”

The words pounded against you, drumming against your skin like the rain that finally had begun to fall outside.

“When Jake told me he saw you at that party, I thought that was my opportunity,” he said. “That’s why I insisted on you coming with me to Uljin.”

You didn’t notice you were crying until he leaned on, his hands spreading at the island’s top and on each side of you as his lips promptly found your wet cheeks and kissed the heaving tears away.

“Don’t cry, teeny.”

“We broke each other’s hearts just because we were afraid,” you said.

“We did, but what is important is what we are going to do from now on.”

“When did you get so wise, Park Sunghoon?” you asked, and he smiled at you, his dimples flirting at the soft skin of his cheeks.

“Losing you got me really undone.”

“Yeah, I heard something like ‘vultures spinning above of what was left of him’.”

Sunghoon laughed at this, and then, he laughed some more, this time throwing his head back. He felt as if he had experienced all the possible emotions throughout these last minutes.

“Can’t believe Jake’s saying reached you.”

“Was it Jake’s?” you asked. “Because I heard it from Jongseong who heard from—”

“Don’t say his name,” he asked. “Not now.”

“Fine.”

His hands slid through your waist, bringing you impossibly closer and your skin tingled beneath his touch.

“Can I kiss you, teeny?” he whispered, the question coming little more than a whisper over your lips.

It was adorable the way he smiled there, boyish and warm eyes gleaming in the dim light of the approaching evening.

“Of course, you can kiss me, Hoon,” you said.

You placed your hands at the slope curve of his neck, palms fitting as perfectly as they did on the night previous, and you brought him down to you.

But Sunghoon didn’t kiss you immediately, no — he took his precious time, hovering his lips just a single centimeter from yours as if he was checking if you would regret it and move away, and only when you didn’t, his mouth slide over yours, taking you slowly, softly, and different from how his fingers burrowed into your dress as he lifted you to the kitchen island, and sit you there.

You had no acknowledgment of how your first kiss with Sunghoon had been, but something within you knew, it had been exactly like this. There was no searching or learning, it was all about you already knowing each other. It was natural to push yourself into him — natural to part your knees and curl your legs around his hips, bringing him so close that you couldn’t tell where your heartbeat ended and his began.

His tongue brushed against your lips, and when you opened your mouth for him, letting him slide his tongue over yours, he groaned, his whole body reacting to the feeling of you. A gasp flew from your lips, and you moved back, but Sunghoon was still leaning in, eyes closed, and lips parted as he followed you through the few inches you created.

“Sorry,” he whispered, straightening himself. It had been just enough to encounter your gaze. But his eyes stayed fixed on you as if he couldn’t imagine anything more fascinating than looking at you — as if all the gravity of the world was centered on you.

But then, there’s the sound of the engine on the driveway, the headlights of Kwangho’s sedan hitting the front window, and you barely had time to jump off the kitchen island, pushing the straps of your dress back into place before the door was opened and the rest of the Parks spilled in like a skimped part of the rain.

A gust of kind smiles and fond expressions.

You wondered if they could see the way you were blushing in the dim light — if they could see the way Sunghoon scrubbed a hand through his hair as he turned around and fought to catch his breath.

When the lights were turned on, Kwangho took a seat on the couch, followed by Yeji as both of them complained about the sudden change of weather.

It had been Jiyoung who approached you, giving both of you a peck on the cheek before she exclaimed how happy she was.

And then you knew that they could and they did.

┈┈┈┈

Sunghoon walked you home with the rain still pouring down, his hand on yours as you both jumped the bunches that separated your family’s property like you always had.

“I will give it five minutes until she calls your mother to tell,” he said.

“I would say they are already on a call,” you replied, reaching for the first stair, but Sunghoon stayed behind, allowing his hair to get soaked beneath the rain, curling at the ends, dripping water down his cheeks, over his lips.

He looked unfairly pretty, but to be honest, he always had.

“Is it crazy?” Sunghoon asked.

“What?”

“That I want to ask you on a date,” he said. “We have run this town from back and forth so many times. We moved to Seoul just to be together and I still want to take you on a date.”

“It’s not,” you whispered.

Sunghoon smiled at you, using your still connected hands to pull you beneath the rain with him — to pull you to him, and when he kissed you, he still tasted like sugar, all pastries and cupcakes sugary and home.

You held onto him, feeling the heat of him through his wet shirt, and this time, you were the one to lick into his mouth, pressing your tongues together and stealing a gasp from him.

You couldn’t help the way you surged up — onto your tiptoes, giving all your weight for him to catch and hold until you were both out of breath.

“Tomorrow then? Around this time?” he asked.

“Alright,” you said. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he answered.

“Can I at least know what I should dress?”

“Formal,” he said, not even blinking and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. “I am serious.”

It had been a long time coming — you and Sunghoon.

It had been spoken within whispers when any of you were nearby, talked when none of you were there.

It had been so waited up, that your parents only fondly smiled as you appeared formally dressed on the following afternoon and said you had a date with Sunghoon.

He waited outside, the engine of his black Jeep already on as he leaned on the hood, watching as you slipped out of your front door and walked towards him, high heels avoiding stones and pebbles.

“You look beautiful,” he said, and you smiled at him, cheeks growing warm because he had slid his hands to your neck, thumbs pressing gently into your skin as he tipped your head back, angling you so you had to look at him, and take in his gleaming eyes. You could tell Sunghoon was no longer making any effort to hold it back, his pure affection taking all over his face in a way you had never seen before.

The weather had gotten better since yesterday, twilight light settling over the county and lighting him in a tangerine glow that when you pulled yourself closer to him, you could feel the warmth of it beneath his suit.

“You don’t look bad yourself,” you said, and he laughed at it, a burst of sound whistling across the breeze as his dimples found their way to flirt into the soft skin of his cheeks.

Sunghoon didn’t tell you where he was taking you still, but there was a picnic basket on the back seat and he took the road out of town, driving through the same emerald mountains and greenish fields you passed on your way back to the town weeks and weeks before.

You reached for him as he passed the county’s welcoming sign, palm resting above the back of his hand on the gear stick, and he shifted beneath your touch, turning his palm to you and slowly interlacing your fingers.

God — you were really doing it.

He dropped down a few gears just several minutes after, parking on a clifftop somewhere, a pretty little spot where you could take off your high heels and sink on a blanket on the warm grass as you watched the sun come down on the sea in shafts of pinky peach and tangerine.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whispered, but if anything he only smiled at you. He had unpacked the picnic basket content, spreading neatly prepared sandwiches and perfectly sliced fruits on the blanket. Even a mini champagne had been included and you smiled when Sunghoon spared it in two flutes, the bubbles sparkling in its glasses in the softest tone of rosé because you always preferred it sweet.

“Have you prepared all of this?” you asked.

“Aside from this,” he said, extending you one of the flutes. “Mom and Yeji prepared everything — when I told them I was taking you out on a date, they got genuinely committed to help.”

“I can imagine how,” you laughed, and he moved closer to you, his free hand reaching for your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear.

“I was a bit scared of your father, you know?” Sunghoon said. “That’s why I waited outside.”

“Why? He loves you.”

“I don’t know, he hated Jongseong.”

“I don’t think he — or anyone there hated Jongseong as a person,” you said. “They hated what he represented.”

“They hated that he was not you,” you explained. “They made that same welcoming lunch last summer, and you should have seen their faces when it was Jongseong passing through your front door holding my hand.”

“Everyone expected that it was me and you in the end, didn’t they?” he asked.

“They still do.”

“Good thing it is me and you in the end.”

“Is it?” you asked, but his lips were already reaching to yours. His hand spread on your cheek, fingers brushing and tangling through your hair as he brought you closer as if he believed his existence lay in the acknowledgment of you — on how your heartbeats resonated together, how naturally your hands fit on the slope curve of his neck, and the sensations your bare fingertips are capable of drawing on his skin as you slipped it beneath the collar of his shirt.

His tongue slid against your bottom lip, softly yet demanding, and you obliged immediately, letting him press his tongue over yours in a way that made your body filled with warmth.

You couldn’t help but pull him closer, fingers burying in his skin as his arms came around you, lifting you over and on top of him. Sunghoon was already hard beneath you, the solid length of himself pressing between your thighs, and the sensation alone was so pleasurable that a desperate sound escaped through your throat before you couldn’t even notice it.

He cursed then, his hands coming up to your waist, and pinching you just to make sure you were looking at him, but you were — you always had been. The sun had disappeared completely beyond the sea, and when he tilted his head back to encounter your gaze, the remaining luminosity turned his eyes lighter, a blend of honey and whisky as his lashes cast shadows over his flushed cheeks.

And God — he was so beautiful.

“Is it really ok?” Sunghoon asked. You suddenly felt like joking about it, saying that it was as fine as having your first time together on an open field could be.

It’s not that you were awkward about having sex. Actually, you have been more straightforward about it than many of your friends, but there’s something about having it with Sunghoon — something that made your chest ache with a feeling deeper than bare desire.

The moment seemed to take forever, it seemed to take no time at all. In the middle of your silence, Sunghoon licked at his mouth, his tongue brushing against his already swollen lips, and you exhaled, allowing your thoughts to break into fragments on the ground.

“Yes, of course it’s fine.”

You weren’t sure if it was you or him who ended the gasp between your mouths. You knew you had put a small pressure on his shoulders and he was already on you, nose pressed to your cheek, lips sliding easily over yours, and already too well practiced in the art of making you sigh.

It was dizzying to be kissed like this. Fast, open-mouthed, and noises swallowed by the other, but Sunghoon didn’t drag his lips away from yours, not unless it was to press his mouth to your neck instead, his tongue swirling against your skin, sucking and kissing little bruises that said everything he suppressed throughout all those years.

You were his just as much he always had been yours.

His palms followed the curve of your thighs, finding where your dress had gathered in the crease of your hips, working it up to your waist — to your shoulders, peeling it off completely.

You barely registered where your dress landed before you ran your fingers for the clasps of your laced bra, opening it and causing a breath stutter out of Sunghoon.

He looked at you as if he wasn’t all that sure if it was real — if you were real, if you were a dream, if you were a mirage that might vanish if he looked away.

“I am here.” You chuckled, hands finding that one spot on his neck, and drawing him down to the blanket — to you, urging him to settle between your legs before your fingers moved through his clothes, pushing his suit away and finding the buttons of his shirt almost carelessly.

Sunghoon’s muscles tensed as you grazed through his low abdomen, nails scratching his skin ever so slightly but when you hurled around the waist of his pants, he moved your hands away.

“Let me take care of you first,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much I have waited for it, so I want to take my time with you.”

You looked at him, drawing out a retort despite the fluttering in your chest. But Sunghoon was already cutting you off with a kiss, his mouth pressing on yours more languid than he ever did and being a perfect match to the way his hand trailed through your body, the tip of his fingers blindly finding and sweeping over your folds.

He barely parted you beneath the cotton of your panties, but it was already enough to make you moan, your whole body faltering with the sensation, and he smiled against your mouth, a way too proud grin because you were exactly where he wanted you to be.

“You are so pretty,” he groaned, pressing a little harder and feeling the cotton growing damp beneath the tip of his fingers, the fabric clinging to you with his every move, and it was dirty in a way that would have made you burn in embarrassment if it had been with anyone else but Sunghoon.

You were sure you could come just by the slip and slide of his finger over you, the soft circles he did on your clit, but you wanted more — you needed more.

It might have been that strange string between both of you, but at your thought, Sunghoon pulled your panties aside, pushing two fingers inside of you with no previous note. You immediately clenched down around it, back arching, and he took the opportunity to slip his free hand to the small of your back, holding you in a way that was too soft for all the rest.

You couldn’t comprehend how he knew you so well — how he knew exactly how to move, how to make his name escape from your lips a little bit more frantic, and how to make you grip on the blankets for some relief. Yet he knew, and it was almost maddening. The knot in your stomach got tighter with no ado, each curl of his fingers drawing you closer to the loss instead, to the burning on your spine, but before you could reach it, Sunghoon stopped, slipping out of you all at once.

He moved to kneel between your legs, his fingers curling at the laces of your panties, palms almost demanding as he dragged it down over your legs.

“Hoon,” you whined. “Please, I need you.”

It might have been the words, the small plead that took Sunghoon anew because he would never refuse anything you asked him, or perhaps it was the way you said them, a bit choked up because you couldn’t control it anymore, but either way, he gave in, unbuckling his belt, and shoving his pants down just enough to free himself.

“So impatient,” he said teasingly, but you couldn’t mind it. He was already pushing into you, his breath hitching as he whispered your name, pronouncing it a deliberate slowness that you couldn’t help but moan at.

It was one of those perfect august evenings when the air buzzed with the sea scent and there was not even a single cloud in the sky — the ghost of the stars falling on his hair as he pulled out to the tip and back into you.

He hissed, looking down between your bodies, eyes glazed as he watched how you fit so perfectly together.

You sobbed when he clutched at the blankets, knuckles turning white as if he was struggling to not be impatience himself because you did understand. This was more than you had ever felt with anyone — no, this was more than you had ever felt about anything.

Your fingers spread at his cheeks, angling his forehead against yours, pressing kisses to his lips, cheeks, and jaw, mumbling how it was alright if he grew impatient, it was alright if it didn’t last tonight.

It was not like it would be the only time.

But he was careful with you still, small noises brushing against your temples even as you came, your body coming tight around him as he continued to move his hips into you.

Sunghoon wrapped his arms around you as he came, his heart beating against yours. He didn’t say anything, just held you until both of you had come into peace together before he pulled away almost as if it broke him to let you go.

He collapsed by your side, and you wanted to say something, but as you looked at him, you had the strange comprehension that there was nothing he didn’t already know. He was your best friend, your lover, and half of your soul. He had caught all your secrets through your eyes — tasted them on your lips and body so you only reached for him.

Your hand caught his easily, tiny and softly, and he allowed you to curl your fingers around his, pulling him a little closer and burying your nose on the curve of his shoulder.

Sunghoon smelled like he always did: his citrus perfume blended with the brine scent of the seashore and home — your home.

He lifted your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist, and the overwhelming affection of the gesture made you ache.

“Hoon,” you whispered. “Let’s go back to Uljin.”

“Alright.”

“I meant after the graduation,” you said. “I know the main goal shouldn’t be to go back to our parent’s house after graduation, but there are a lot of nice places in Uljin,”

“Daeyeol’s apartment complex seemed a bit expensive, but maybe we-”

“Is this your way of saying you want to stay with me, teeny?” Sunghoon asked, almost earning a gasp from you. But his laugh quickly made you stop, swallowing the sound of your surprise together with your embarrassment.

His grip tightened around you, bringing you so close — you didn’t only hear the next words, but you felt them rushing through your skin.

“Alright,” he repeated. “Let’s go back, Uljin is our place anyway.”

“Being honest, I have been thinking about it for quite a while. People in the city are always so stressed. There is traffic everywhere, and everything smells like smoke and street food. I prefer it here — with you.”

Park Sunghoon was tapping against your window. A hastened and insistent gait that only ceased when you lifted your head off your pillows, eyes all soft and glazed because the clock on your desk was still marking three in the morning.

And was he on your roof?

You leaped off your bed, moving as quietly as you could to the window and shoving the glass open.

“What are you doing?” you asked. But he didn’t reply. Sunghoon seemed comfortable sitting there, an easy smile playing on his lips as he spread his palms through the roof titles and averted his gaze from you to the sky, observing it for a few moments before he lifted his right hand to it, grazing through the air as if his fingertips could reach for the stars.

“Can you come outside?” Sunghoon asked, and there was no way time had changed, but you felt like the seconds were turning into something more. You were twelve again, sneaking out for the first time on a night in july with him. You were eighteen again, barefoot on the cold sand of august and promising you would stay together endlessness.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “Can I?”

“Please, I had to climb your rafters,” Sunghoon said, lowering his hand.

“You weren’t picking up your phone,” he explained. “And to call the fixed line at three am didn’t seem a nice step, although your parents love me.”

You had to control your will to roll your eyes at his words. It had been weeks since you had confessed to each other in his family’s kitchen, weeks since you officially launched it to your parents on the typical Sunday dinner, and it had been weeks since your father started calling him son.

“Please, I will catch you,” he said.

“Catch me?” you echoed, but he was already slipping through the roof titles, and jumping into your family’s back deck.

You breathe in, not giving yourself time to think before you carefully swing over your bedroom window and edged your way onto the roof. Outside, the night sky was colored in shades of lavender and mauve — a typical summer night in Uljin, but the breeze rushed with the wet scent of rain and warned autumn was slowly coming in.

“Can’t I use the back door like a normal person?”

“C’mon,” he said. “I will catch you.”

“Hoon,” you whined, quickly stealing a laugh from him.

“If you are too scared, you can use the back door,” he said, his voice laced in fondness. “But I promise you, it isn’t that high.”

“Will you catch me?”

“Didn’t I tell you so?” he said, extending his arms at you.

You jumped, and he caught your waist as you landed, pulling you against him. And all of sudden you could scent him — his citrus perfume blended with the brine scent of the seashore, and home.

“Caught you,” he whispered, voice winding into your hair. His breath was warm against your exposed skin and you knew it was supposed to be just a statement, but his words tingled through your body.

He stepped back, holding his hand out for you, fingers spread so you could fill the small gaps in between as he guided you toward the sea. Sunghoon stopped just before the water could reach your feet, but still, the breeze caught the cold sprinkles, brushing them against the exposed skin of your cheeks as you watched him take a box out of his pocket with his free hand and extend it to you.

“I thought we should renew our promise before going back to Seoul tomorrow,” he said.

You took the box suspiciously. It was far too small to be anything but a jewelry or mittens. But the confirmation only came when you had peeled the ribbon, and opened the box, allowing the moonlight to glitter above the necklace.

“Merry Christmas,” Sunghoon whispered.

“Hoon, it’s beautiful,” you replied. “But it’s not even September and we never exchanged gifts.”

“I know, but I got it for you back in December,” he said. “I came here on Christmas solely to give it to you, but you weren’t here and when I went back to the antique store to return it, the witch-looking grandma had disappeared together with the whole store.”

“Are you telling me you bought a cursed necklace as a present?” you asked and there it was. Sunghoon couldn’t control his smile from growing wider, too happy with how you always knew how to follow him.

“How did you know it was exactly what she called it?”

“You are so annoying.”

“Let me help you,” he said. You turned your back on him, allowing Sunghoon to brush your hair away. It was a brisk, soft, barely-there touch, but his fingertips created shivers through your skin as he tied the necklace.

“What was the curse?” you asked, but he didn’t reply. He allowed your words to be carried together with the sea waves long enough for you to decide to turn back to him. And when you did, Sunghoon brought his hands to your cheeks, holding you so you had no other option than to encounter his gaze.

His eyes were bright then, reflections of the stars and his appreciation towards you.

“You are stuck with me for eternity,” he said, and you laughed at him, the sound of it whistling through the air and brushing through his lips as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“It’s surely a curse,” you said. Your tone was merry, teasingly, but Park Sunghoon knew you like no one else in this world.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

There had been a time when Sunghoon thought that you and he were meant to be forever.

And to be fair — his assumption used to make sense. For years, you had been best friends, halves of a whole, and the downfall of your friendship certainty was something no one could have predicted.

But that’s the thing about life — one moment people think they know exactly where they are headed, and the next, everything changes. The wind drifts the other way, and you have to follow through.

Yet best friends always find their way back to each other — soulmates always end up together, and Park Sunghoon surely was it: your best friend and your soulmate.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen oneshots #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon x reader #enha #sunghoon imagines #yumi’s bibliotheca!

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theshelbyclan · 3 years

Text

Horse Thieves

Summary: The Shelby siblings are still building their imperium, and they need a horse to do it.

(Gif by @madshelby)

A/N: I asked around a bit and people wanted to read a lot more about Teddy, so I decided to use this request by one lovely anon: Hello! I've never done a request for a fic before so please excuse me if this isn't the right way to do it 🙈 But I noticed your requests were open and read the prompts list you linked to for Shelby sister prompts - so can I request something that incorporates 7.“car. Now”, 8.“what story do you want tonight” and 14.“your heading the right way for a smacked backside”. Thank you! I decided to base this on this idea I had in the longer Teddy series, where she refers to a time when she stole a horse with Tommy. So see this as a prequel if you will, set before the series. Words: 2773

*** “Whatever you do, you’re not using Finn.” “I won’t…” “I mean it, Thomas,” Aunt Polly warned, “You’ve only been back for five minutes from France and I will not have you endangering my nephew, after I’ve kept him safe for fucking four years.”

Tommy sighed, “Yes, I understand.” Polly looked at her nephew with a distrustful gaze, “Why do we need the horse?” “Betting’s down,” he slowly lit a cigarette, “We need our own. A horse that looks good. Convinces people to lay a bet.” She had to agree with that, “Where will you go?” “To the place where people most expect a horse to be stolen.” “Why?” “Hide in plain sight,” he pointed, “you taught me that.” “I thought I taught you everything…” Polly mused sternly. Tommy nodded slowly, “Maybe. And now I’m acting on it…” After a short pause, he said, “I’m gonna do it, Pol. I’ll make this family rich. Trust me.” “What about the little ones?” “I’m doing this for them, alright, so that they won’t have to grow up like we did!” Fire was burning in his eyes when he spoke, but Polly had never seen him quite like this. He was different these days. After pondering for a while, she said, “So tell me where.” Tommy took a deep breath, knowing she’d disapprove, “The fair.” “For fuck’s sake, Thomas!” *** “WELCOME TO THE FAIR!” Arthur bellowed, which scared most people in his vicinity away, but it made Teddy, who was used to it, literally jump for joy. Arthur grinned broadly and lifted his little sister up onto his shoulders, shouting, “Now look here, sweet girl, this is where we bloody come from and don’t you forget it!” “Arthur, can I have a candied apple?” Teddy asked him, knowing he wouldn’t refuse her anything when he was in a mood like this. “You can have all the apples, Teddy!” he replied with a grand gesture. John came walking besides them and quietly said to his brother, “They’re here.” “Good,” Arthur said uncharacteristically gently, and he lifted Teddy off his shoulders again, “Tommy’s in place.” “What about Finn, Arthur?” he said, playing with his toothpick. Arthur winked at his suddenly much younger brother, “Don’t worry, brother. He’s off playing with the Boswell kids. He’ll be no bloody trouble.” John grinned down at Teddy, “Unlike this one!” “You know why, John?” Teddy asked cheekily, “Because Finn is like Arthur, but I am like you!” John laughed manically out loud and Arthur bellowed, “She’s fucking right!” “How about that apple, Arthur?” Teddy asked innocently, quickly adding a, “Please?” “Wait here, princess.” As they continued walking, John took Teddy’s hand in his and said to her, “Look at all the horses, Teddy. Maybe one day you could have one of your own.” “But I already have the pony you gave me when you came back,” she looked up with adoring eyes. It was no secret that Teddy had four heroes in life, and those were her brothers. He looked down, “Yeah, but one day you’ll have a horse. Promise.” “John?” she asked, suddenly serious, “You won’t go away again, will you?” “Go where? Why would I leave my favourite little girl!” “You did before…” John stopped and turned to her, “Listen, that was the war… You know I don’t like talking about that…” “I know…” “But the war’s over. No more fucking mud for us, alright?” he said earnestly. He tried desperately to hide the pain he felt. Teddy nodded. “I’m sorry,” John blurted out all of a sudden, “I’m sorry we left you. We didn’t know… what it’d be… we thought it would be…” he simply couldn’t find the words. “I know,” she interrupted him in a high voice, “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again, alright?” “Alright,” he smiled. Then he changed his tone again, happy to switch subjects, “Now, what story do you want tonight?” “One about a horse!” “How about we get you a real one?” John suggested light-heartedly.

Teddy giggled because she thought he was joking, slipped her hand into his again and started skipping. Then she looked over at Arthur, who was just in the process of stealing an apple for her. It was good to have her brothers back again.

“Teddy?” John asked, “think you could do something for me?” “Like what?” “Tommy needs our help.” “With what?” her eyebrows shot up. John coughed once and waited for Arthur to join them, “Eat your apple. And listen, Tommy needs us to help him with something.” Mouth full of candied apple, “whaff kinf of somefingff?” “Just do as we tell you to,” John explained, “and then Tommy’ll tell you what to do.” Arthur nodded, “He’s already instructed us.” “Arthur,” John became unsure, “Are we really involving our eight-year-old sister in this?” “She’ll be fine, John-boy! She’s fucking smart, she is.” “I am,” Teddy replied proudly. The candied apple was nearly gone already.

“Alright, Teddy-girl, you listen to me, yeah?” John bend down to her level, “I need you to pretend you got lost, or maybe ask for help, or cry! Can you cry?” Teddy sniffled a little, “I’m not sure,” she then said in her normal voice. “Don’t worry if you can’t! Just scream a lot, alright?” “Wait!” she said, “Give me a second….” And she pouted her lips again, scrunched up her nose and suddenly tears were falling down her cheeks. “Bloody hell…” Arthur mumbled, as he turned to John, “you fucking created a monster.” “I’m crying!” Teddy said triumphantly through her tears, “Now what?” John shook her head to banish the emotions he felt over seeing his baby sister cry, “Go to Tommy.” Teddy quickly darted off and went in search of her other brother. When she found him, she announced herself with, “Look, Tommy, real tears!” “What the fuck?” Tommy replied in shock, “What happened, tell me now!” “Nothing!” she quipped, “John made me.” “I’ll fucking kill him,” her brother said automatically, “Did he throw you up in the air again?” Teddy grinned, “No, and besides that doesn’t make me cry…” “It did when you broke your arm.” She waved a disinterested hand, “Fine. But I mean he told me to cry because you needed a disattraction! “Distraction.” “Yes!” Tommy knelt down and said in a hushed voice, “Alright, first things first, you can never, ever tell Aunt Polly about this, do you hear me?” Teddy nodded obediently. “I mean it Teddy. She’ll have my fucking balls…” A high voice replied, “Which balls?” He sighed deeply again, regretting his words intensely, “Listen to me, eh? Don’t tell Aunt Pol.” “I will,” but a vague twinkle had come into Teddy’s eyes the second she realised her big tough brother was scared of Aunt Polly too.

Tommy lifted up Teddy and she rested on his hip, hugged close by his arm. She could vaguely smell his hair, his cigarette and a whiff of horse on him. This was her brother, who’d been gone for two whole years. She was only little when he’d gone, but Teddy remembered she cried a lot. All she ever wanted at night was for John to play with her and for Arthur to sit with her and for Tommy to tell her stories. She and Finn used to curl up together and cry. But now he was home, not the same, but still home.

“See them?” Tommy pointed, with a smile playing about his lips like he used to have all the time before the war, “See that family?” Teddy followed his hand with her eyes, “Yeah, the ones with the man with the blue scarf?” “That’s the one,” he nodded, “I need you to distract them.” “Why?” “So I can take their horse.” Teddy turned to face Tommy, and as she grinned, his face lit up as well, “Are we going to steal the horse, Tommy?” Teddy whispered excitedly. “Yes.” She lowered her voice even more, “just you and me?” Softly, he planted a kiss on her head, “Can’t do it without you…” Couldn’t do any of this without you here, he thought, but didn’t say it. “Alright,” he continued, “I’m going to talk to the man with the scarf. Meanwhile, John and Arthur are going to pick a fight with some other men, over by the candied apples, you see?” “That’s why I got an apple…” Teddy mused, slightly disappointed. Tommy quickly got her attention back, “I’ll be talking to him about this other family I know,” he waved a hand, “it’ll be something useless, but I’ll get him to walk away. John-boy is itching to punch someone, so he will, don’t get scared, alright?” Teddy frowned, “I’m not scared of John.” “Now, you see that horse, the black one, by the water?” She peered through the crowd of people and finally caught a glimpse of the beauty. Her eyes lit up in a way that only the Shelby’s eyes light up when looking at a horse. “There’s two boys with him. I need you to go to them. Make sure they walk away from the horse.” “Tommy…” Teddy thought out loud, “Won’t they know it was us?” He smirked at his sister’s intellect, “No. They don’t know us. Besides, they’re feuding with another family here. There’s a war coming, but we won’t be involved this time. Don’t worry about it, eh?” “Why are they fighting, Tommy?” she was not letting it go so easily. “Because I made it happen.” Then he walked a few feet so that they were both hidden from sight, “Now, I need you to distract the boys, and maybe some of the women as well. Cry, if you can, and if anything goes wrong, scream. I know you’re good at that…” “Who will take the horse?” “Johnny Dogs will. He’s close by,” Tommy leaned his forehead onto Teddy’s, “Think you can do it?” “Yes!” “Not too scared?” “Never!” Teddy replied enthusiastically, which slightly worried Tommy, but instead he said, “Go on.” So Teddy walked out behind the tent on her own and started thinking sad thoughts, just to make the tears come easily later on. There wasn’t much need for them though, because as soon as she approached the boys who were washing the horse, one called out, “Piss off!” “Fuck you!” Teddy replied in a flash, “This is free land and I’m a free woman!” she heard Aunt Polly say that once, “I’ll go where I fucking please!” One of the boys pushed her and angrily Teddy shoved him back. Then the second one came for her, and Teddy suddenly remembered her mission. So against all of her instincts, she let herself be pushed to the ground and started howling as soon as she landed. Immediately heads turned and Teddy cried like she hadn’t done in two years, “They pushed me!” But somewhere from out the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur arguing with someone and John landing a punch, almost in slow-motion, and she knew everything went according to plan. “Did not!” the boy protested nervously, “she started it!” Teddy curled up a little and held onto her leg like it was hurting, while trying to make herself as small as possible, “It hurts…” “What have you done!” a strange woman called out to one of the boys, who shrunk visibly as soon as he heard her voice, “fighting little girls now, are you?!” “I didn’t, ma! She started it!” but before he could finish his sentence, he’d gotten the first smack around the head. One down, one more to go. So Teddy upped the tears and it worked beautifully: the second boy didn’t wait for his mother to hear, but decided to run instead. Slowly, Teddy started to calm down, because if she just stood up now and showed it was all fake, everything would’ve been for nothing. She made that mistake once with Finn, and she wouldn’t be doing so again. After about a minute, chaos had descended on the fair. Men were fighting, Tommy was making an already nervous man simply anxious and this side of the camp was almost deserted. But where was Johnny? Teddy got up and hid near the beautiful horse. And then she saw him: somehow Johnny had ended up in the middle of the fight as well. This could ruin everything! “Come,” Teddy beckoned, “Come here! I promise I won’t hurt you…” and much to her own surprise, the horse obeyed. She untied the reigns and like he’d always been hers, he followed her down into the river. Teddy swam a little, wondered for only a second what Aunt Polly would say, and then climbed up onto the horse’s back in the water. From there on, she made a quick decision and urged the horse on. The river was low and couldn’t be seen all the way from the camp, so she kept the route of invisibility. After a while, she spurred the horse on and he climbed the riverside, with the tiny load still on his back. From this distance, Teddy could still see the fair, but because of the trees she was certain they couldn’t see her. “Now what?” she asked the horse, because she hadn’t really thought this through. In reply it neighed. “Shh!” Teddy scolded, “you want me to get caught?” So she steered the horse by its manes and made her way to where the family car was parked. With some luck, everyone else would still be too busy fighting. *** “Teddy!” Teddy turned her head and saw her brothers running, with sheer panic in their eyes. “Where the fuck were you?” Tommy demanded. Teddy shrunk a little at the anger in his voice, “I didn’t know where to go so I went here…” “Car. Now!” Tommy fumed. “That was actually smart, Tom,” Arthur defended her. Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “I thought something happened to you… That’s why I tell you not to leave my fucking side!” “I’m sorry…” she whimpered and tears started forming in her eyes again. “Don’t even try that,” John joked, “We know you can pretend now.” Looking caught, Teddy tried to hide the smile she shared with John. “That’s it, Tom,” Arthur walked back and forth to get rid of the adrenaline still coursing through his body, after they found there little sister was missing, “We’re not using our bloody sister again, for anything!” “Agreed,” Tommy said at once. “I thought you wanted the horse?” Teddy questioned. Again Tommy sighed and he lit another cigarette, “No fucking horse is worth losing you over, Teddy.” And that’s when she realised he wasn’t angry, just worried. “No fucking horse,” Arthur agreed. “But…” she started. John interrupted, “Forget about the horse, Teddy, we’re just glad you’re okay.” “But…” “Besides, we can get a horse some other way, eh?” Tommy continued, “Might even pay for it…” “But…” Tommy held up a hand, “Stop interrupting me, Teddy.” Instead Teddy interrupted him, “But the fucking horse is fucking here!” she pointed beyond the car at the woods, “Look! I rode him here after Johnny didn’t show up!” “I’ll be fucking damned,” Arthur blurted out, “she rode the fucking horse here.” John burst out laughing and simply high-fived Teddy, but Tommy looked as stunned as Arthur did. Anxiously, Teddy waited for Tommy’s reply, occasionally saying things like, “Johnny wasn’t coming,” and “my tears were almost dried up,” and “it wasn’t really my fault, the horse just followed me!” “Teddy Shelby,” Tommy said finally, “you little horse thief…” “You told me to,” Teddy said pointedly, but couldn’t quite hide the pride in her voice. “Oh, so this is our fault, eh?” Teddy shrugged and put on an angelic face, “Well, Arthur taught me how to steal, John taught me how to cry and you told me what to do…”

He pointed at her, “You’re heading the right way for a smacked backside...” Again Tommy looked at the horse and then he coughed a short laugh, “Alright, you win. We’re all horse thieves. Go get your horse.” “Mine?” “Yours.” As Teddy got the horse, the brothers still couldn’t get over the fact that she just did all of that. “Before we go home, there’s just one more thing, Teddy,” Tommy said, “Tell me again what I made you promise.” “Don’t tell Aunt Polly about this.” “Or?” he said menacingly, hoping he still had some authority over her by usually being the one who punished her, when he wasn’t teaching her how to steal that is… “She’ll have your balls.” Tommy eyed his two brothers who doubled over in laugher, but decided to ignore that. “Good girl.”

*** Masterlist

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sidespart · 3 years

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The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Prologue Chapter 1

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times. Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared, momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now, Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

#creativitwins #logan sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #Roman Sanders #TS: Fall of Romulus #this features #10% more plot but 100% more logan #this is the second full fic ive ever done and the first multichapter so feedback appreciated :o

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princessphilly · 3 years

Text

Word count: 5627

Tag list: @ohpuckyeah, @joelsfarabee, @besthockeyfics. @dreamer1430 @Defiant-Mouse @miracleonice87 @lovethepreds @linkingdolans @chicagostylehockey @heatherlcrosby87 @hockeywocs @shortstacks-blog @heatherawoowoo @newlibrary @markymarkstrom @iangiemae @puckbitchesgetmoney @missymore @himbos-on-ice @fiveholegoal @no-pucks-given @pagirl6866 @willieshakesqueer @nazdaddy @whatishockey @alphalib22 @romanseggy @laurenairay @texanstarslove @konecny-s @cutiesara23 @myhockeyworld87 @extratragic @squidlywiddly87 @stuff4me2do @allinangel93 @mydarkestsecretlol

CW: angst, meeting the family, references to the n-word, people sucking

I decided to go ahead and finish it when I got a sudden burst of creativity when I came home.

Nina snuggled in bed, a happy little sigh leaving her lips. Sidney looked at her, a fond smile on his face. It had been a month since they were back together and life was almost perfect. Well, they were 6-3-2, 14 points earned which was okay but not where Sidney wanted the team to be. It was still early in the season, it was mid-November so there was plenty of time to right the ship. He and the boys would fix it. Sidney sighed before attempting to try to go back to sleep. However, he heard the sound of a door opening and he sat up, pushing the covers down inadvertently.

Sidney racked his brain. It was Sunday, Marta, his housekeeper’s day off. Mario or Nathalie would have called before coming over. He had no idea who the hell it could be. “Fuck,” Sidney breathed. There were only two people who would do a surprise visit and one of them was a week earlier for the Moms trip.

Lightly brushing his fingers over Nina’s side, Sidney urged, “Pretty girl, wake up.”

It was roughly 8am so it wasn’t hard to get Nina, an early riser by nature to wake up. “Urgh, mawning,” Nina mumbled as she cracked open her eyes. Sidney looked anxious and agitated which made Nina focus.

Sidney opened his mouth, then closed it. If he was right, he was fucked and his pretty girl was probably going to run away screaming. He finally said, “Um, someone just opened the door and there are exactly five people other than me who have a key. There are two who’d do a surprise visit.”

Looking down, Nina was thankful that she had on one of Sidney’s shirts and shorts while sleeping. “Well, fuck, at least I’m not naked,” she said pointedly. Sidney had the grace to blush as Nina continued, “If it’s what you think it is, you need to get that under control,” pointing at his rather obvious morning wood. Sidney pulled the covers back over himself and Nina

Then a voice called out, “Morming, Sid!”

Sidney sighed in relief. It was Taylor, not his mom. Nina noticed it and arched an eyebrow. “Eh, it’s my sister, pretty girl.”

“Shit,” Nina fretted. This was going to be awkward, she didn’t even know if she wanted to meet his family but now, she was going to,have to. At least it was a sister.

The door creaked open and a blonde-haired head peeked in. “Boo,” Taylor said. Then her eyes perked when she saw who Sidney was with.

Nina groaned. Her hair was in a scarf, it was obvious she slept over and fuck, fuck, fuck. A devious smile spread on Taylor’s face. “Nice to see that you finally let a girlfriend sleep in your room, Sidney.”

“Shut the fuck up, Taylor,” Sidney yelled as his little sister giggled before closing the door.

Nina facepalmed. “That was fun. Fun fun fun.”

Rolling onto her front, Nina mumbled, “I’m not ready to meet your family.”

“I’ve already met yours,” Sidney reasoned.

“That was because Yanni was part of your Lil Penguins program. That was work related for you, doesn’t count.”

Trailing his fingers down Nina’s back, Sidney replied, “True but, it still counts. What are you doing next weekend?”

“I’m going to be in Philly for a wedding.”

Nina turned onto her left side, facing Sidney. Sidney sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go. “Don’t get any ideas.”

She slipped off the bed, pulling the scarf off her braids, letting them fall down her back. Rummaging through her clothes on the floor, Nina pulled out her bra. Pulling her shirt off, she put it on to the sound of Sidney’s groans. Nina rolled her eyes. “I’m stuck having to meet your sister because she decided to give you a surprise visit. I’m not meeting her without wearing a bra.”

“But you look so amazing without one,” Sidney replied.

Nina shook her head before leaving his bedroom. Making her way to the kitchen, Nina literally bumped into Taylor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Nina gasped.

“I’m okay,” Taylor reassured Nina, taking the moment to check out this girl that Sidney was now seeing. She wasn’t exactly what Taylor was expecting but one thing that Taylor liked about Nina was that she had kind eyes. Taylor had heard about her over the years, especially that Nina had kept rejecting Sidney. Her brother rarely heard the word no so that made Nina intriguing to her.

Taylor offered, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, and I’m hungry.”

Opening the fridge, Taylor took out the ingredients to make omelets. Nina sat at the island, a pensive look on her face. “You know, I totally didn’t expect to meet you this way. This is awkward as fuck.”

“Eh, don’t feel bad, I should have given Sid a heads up,” Taylor replied. “Plus, I’ve heard about you over the years.”

“Oh really?”

Taylor laughed as she cracked eggs. “Sidney couldn’t shut up about you. First it was he met this nice girl at work. Then, it was that you kept telling him no and he was confused. Later, he was beating himself up because he managed to fuck up before he could even ask you out. I really enjoyed that, I liked that you kept not only telling him no but when he pissed you off, you didn’t forgive him right away. I love my brother but his ego needs to get cut down sometimes.”

“True, he has a huge ego. He needs to take himself less seriously,” Nina concurred. “But it’s probably impossible to get him to do that.”

Taylor shrugged, pursing her lips. “At least he means well,” Nina added.

Nodding, Taylor replied, “He does mean well, most of the time.”

“Already ganging up on me?”

They both laughed as Sidney entered the kitchen. “Why are you here, Taylor?”

“I went on a camping trip and I decided to be nosy and visit my big brother before heading home,” Taylor chirped. “The look on your face was worth it.”

“Hahaha. Should’ve called,” Sidney grumbled.

Taylor quipped, “Oh, did I ruin your morning sex plans? I’m so sorry.”

Nina snorted as she laughed. Sidney gave her hurt eyes and Nina blew him a kiss.

“Don’t worry Sid, I’m not staying long. Just enough to rest and then get back on the road,” Taylor said.

“You drove,” Nina asked. Sidney was now standing right behind her and she could feel his hands massaging her shoulders.

Taylor nodded as she flipped the first omelet. “You’re not what I expected, Nina. You’re way too pretty for a hockey player like my brother.”

Sidney wanted to kill his little sister as she continued to chirp him. Well, not only chirp him but ruin his planned lazy morning sex. But as he watched his sister and Nina interact playfully, Sidney could admit there was a slight good point. Taylor and Nina were hitting it off and Sidney knew that Nina would meet his family soon. This was a good sign.

However, after practice four days later, Sidney was wishing his sister had never stopped by. Nina had been incredibly busy all week and Sidney knew he wouldn’t see her until next week due to her trip out of town. He was feeling extra irritable and hearing his name over the tv didn’t help.

“So, two weeks ago, Sidney Crosby admitted that he was having relationship issues that were affecting him on the ice.”

Tanger went to change the channel on the tv in the lounge, muttering, “Fucking ESPN.”

“Shh, keep it on,” Sidney urged, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to see what kind of bullshit ESPN was saying now.

A couple of the guys stopped to check out the TV. Kevin Neghandi laughed as he responded, “Yeah, he admitted that after breaking a slump. Ever since, he’s been on a 2 point-per-game streak. But this really isn’t about him.”

“Huh,” said Geno, scratching his head.

Buccigross continued, “There was a picture of Crosby and his girlfriend posted on the internet, a nice picture. Someone posted it and made a derogatory statement about his girlfriend, Nina Jackson. This player is a player for Clemson.”

Neghandi laughed again. “Ms. Jackson has a younger brother named Jason Jackson. He was also the number 20 prospect, number 1, 5 star tight end. He also now plays for UNC.”

Sidney chuckled as he realized exactly where this was going. The guy on the tv continued, “Clemson and UNC had the rare Thursday night game last night. #1 Clemson went to the Tar Heels, ranked #22 and got spanked, 56-30. Jason Jackson had 10 catches, 200 yards receiving, and 3 TDs. His response in the postgame.”

The tv showed a clip of Jason talking to the media. A reporter asked, “What inspired you to have such a big game tonight.”

“Lowell decided he needed to talk about my sister on the gram so I had to put him in his place,” Jason drawled.

Sidney’s phone buzzed and it was a message from Nina. my brother is so dramatic 🙄

Nice to know he’ll always have your back, Sidney sent Nina.

Nina smiled happily as she looked at the Thai food on plate. She was so hungry and excited to see Jamila face to face in person for lunch. Her friend looked more vibrant than usual, as life was treating her good. They made small talk until Jamila said, “I heard something about you, that you aren’t single for the first time in forever.”

“Oh really?”

Jamila looked at her best friend. “You’re dating Mayo boy.”

“What?!?” Perplexed, Nina stared at Jamila while Jamila rolled her eyes.

“Sidney Crosby is like Mayo. Super white. Damn, my dating habits really did rub off on you. Welcome to being a basic bitch like me.”

It was Nina’s turn to roll her eyes. “Stop being so fucking dramatic, Jamila Brown.”

“I was an actress, I’m supposed to be dramatic. Tell Mayo boy if he ever breaks your heart, I’ll kill and cremate whatever’s left of him after your father and brother are finished with him.”

“Are you really gonna nickname him that?”

Jamila smirked at Nina and Nina sighed. Shrugging elegantly, Jamila replied, “I’m a part of Philly sports Twitter. I got lots of other names I could call him.

“Be a bigger bitch, Mila.”

“He gets a better nickname when he lets you fully run his pockets. And don’t give me that look, don’t be afraid of being called a gold digger. They are probably calling you worse names. Make Mayo boy run that card up when he takes you on baecation. Once that happens, I’ll upgrade his nickname.”

Nina sighed as she looked at the menu. Jamila reached out and put her hand out, covering Nina’s menu. “You know I’m just playing, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, let’s talk about Toyin’s wedding instead,” Nina murmured.

It was Jamila’s turn to sigh. “I’m sorry, Nina. I’m sorry for being a bitch. I shouldn’t be taking out my bad mood on you. I hate men.”

“Not forgiven yet,” Nina snarked.

Jamila looked pensive as she said, “I like this guy but I don’t want to admit I like him. He’s like too perfect, too nice, well not that nice. He actually gives a fuck.”

“Let me guess, you’re scared and about to do something super stupid,” Nina dryly replied.

Jamila gave Nina a shocked look before she slumped in her chair. “I don’t want to,” she pouted.

Nina reasoned, “Then don’t. Just ride it out for once.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jamila replied.

Nina shrugged as her phone buzzed. It was a message from Sid, well really just a picture of him sweaty post-practice. Nina left him on read, she would get him back later for that. “Stop being stupid, and stop self-sabotaging.”

Jamila rolled her eyes as she ate her food. After swallowing, she arched an eyebrow. “Mayo boy sent you a message?”

“Yeah, but I’m focusing on you. I’ll see him next week… and his parents.”

“This is going fast,” Jamila commented.

Nina bit her lip before saying, “I guess he had to wait eighty-four years, I mean five years, so he’s going to take advantage while they are in town.”

“Interesting.”

Nina pointed out, “At least I’m giving my relationships a chance, unlike you.”

“Fuck you.”

Jamila gave Nina an exaggerated nasty look as Nina quipped, “I’m strictly dickly, bitch.”

The conversation switched to safer topics. However, throughout the wedding weekend, Nina had the thought in the back of her mind that maybe things were going a bit too fast.

“Well, Taylor says she likes her. I checked out her instagram account and she doesn’t even mention you. Lots of nice vacation pictures though.”

Sidney looked at his mom from across the table. Trina had a pensive look on her face. Troy raised his eyebrows before leaning back in his chair.

Sidney reasoned, “I want you two to meet her. Give her a chance. Nina is amazing, I’m lucky that she even likes me.”

“Why wouldn’t she like you, you’re Sidney Crosby,” Trina scoffed.

Sidney shrugged. “Nina’s a PhD student and everything. It hasn’t been easy for her either.”

“Interesting,” Trina said.

Nina herself was feeling extra nervous. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to meet Sidney’s parents, especially after having to turn in a huge paper and part of her thesis to her advisor. But, as she shook her head and smoothed down her shirt, they were in town and she was going to try to make her best impression.

Midway through dinner, Nina began to wish she was somewhere else on this Friday night. While Troy, Sidney’s dad, seemed nice, it felt like Trina was judging every single thing she did. Every reply Trina made to Nina’s questions was in a dry voice, as if it was boring her. Nina felt a bit discouraged. Sidney obviously loved his parents but it felt like his mother didn’t like her.

On the other hand, Trina felt like Nina was looking down on them. It seemed like she was mentioning her PhD program, her thesis, like she was too smart for them and her boy. Trina sipped her water as there was a pause. She didn’t know about this girl but at least, every time she looked at Sidney, Trina could see the stars and hearts in her eyes.

Nina looked at Sidney, her palms sweating. She didn’t know what to say as she looked down at her plate. Her appetite was gone. Sidney, himself, didn’t really notice anything as he answered his father’s questions about the beginning of the season. Then Troy turned to Nina.

“So what do you plan to do now that you’re with Sidney,” Troy casually asked.

Nina replied, “I have about two more years left before I finish earning my PhD. I plan to continue to work and I may teach a class or two.”

“You still plan to work,” Trina asked.

Nina nodded. “Yes. I love what I do and I’m not wasting my degrees.”

“Why do you want to work?”

Nina could tell that Trina intended that question to be light but Nina could still feel the claws. She was tired of this passive-aggressive bullshit and ready to curse her out. But Nina couldn’t so she measured her words carefully. “I did four years of undergrad, three years of school for my doctors in physical therapy, and I will do four more years for my doctorate. Why would I stop working after earning my degrees?”

Trina paused; she had expected some trite, suck-up answer. But it seemed like Nina was serious. “I would think that if you were with my son, you’d rather not work.”

“I’m not built to be a housewife.” Nina laughed. “I love what I do and if I’m expected to stop for Sidney, then maybe I need to reevaluate some things.”

Trina felt like she lost control of this conversation. All she wanted was to see what kind of user her boy’s dream girl was. Now, she had the feeling that her son was going to get dumped and it was going to be her fault.

Sidney laughed. “I don’t expect you to be a housewife. You would be so bored if you were.”

Nina flashed Sidney a quick grin before adding, “Nathalie has let me know the responsibilities though. I’ve done lots of volunteer and charity work over the years so that isn’t new at all. I’m excited about the toy drive, I remember when my parents just got out of the army and cash was tight. I got my favorite doll as a kid from a toy drive.”

“That’s nice,” Trina said. Maybe this Nina girl wasn’t completely stuck up, she thought as the night continued. After a couple of hours, Nina said her goodbyes. It was getting late and she was spending the morning taking her little sister to volleyball practice. After she left, Trina let out a sigh as Sidney turned to her.

“You have to lay off on Nina, Mom.”

Trina turned to look at her son. Sidney was giving her his most serious look and she sighed.

“I like her but I don’t know if she’s the one for you, Sid. It seems like she’s one step from leaving you,” Trina said. “I don’t see her sticking with you if things go bad.”

“Just because she plans to work?”

Sidney gave his mother an assessing look. He knew she meant well but this wasn’t for her to decide. “This isn’t your problem.”

“Fine, I like that she has her own life. She’s not obsessed with you and she plans to be her own person,” Trina conceded. “But she’s different.”

He knew this was going to be hard, asking his mom to back off but Sidney knew he had to do it. Nina hadn’t said anything last night but Sidney could sense that she was tired of how his mother was acting. Sidney also knew that if Nina decided to cut ties, it would be completely over. Sidney started, “Compared to Nina, I’m a dumb hockey player. But what I have with her, I’ve never found with anyone else. If you have a problem with that, that’s you. But be civil to Nina.”

“Really, Sidney Patrick Crosby,” Trina said, incredulous. But the look on her son’s face was something she had never seen before. Even though she didn’t believe her son would really pick any woman over her, a voice at the back of her mind told her that if Sidney ever did, this would be the woman he’d pick over her.

It was Saturday night and Nina pasted another smile on her face. If Trina got snide again, Nina didn’t know if she could be nice about it. But at least they were in public. As they sat down for dinner, a couple of guys came up. Sidney and his family had perfect PR smiles but the guys stopped in front of Nina.

“Hey, aren’t you Jason Jackson’s sister?”

Nina grinned. “Yes.”

“Why did he have to have such a great game against Pitt today? He killed them,” one of the guys said.

Nina shrugged. “Pitt should play better defense.”

After the guys left, Troy asked, “your brother plays college football?”

“Yup. He was the top prospect in Pennsylvania last season. Games on tv and everything.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sidney murmured.

Nina giggled as she replied, “All you do is eat, sleep, and breathe hockey.”

Sidney blushed as everyone laughed at that statement. However, through the night, more people came by the table to give Nina props for her brother’s monster game than to try to get a glimpse of Sidney. Jason had 184 yards receiving and 2 TDs for UNC today and there was already buzz about Jason being on the fast track to the NFL. During a lull, Trina stated, “You must get asked about your brother a lot.”

“I’m used to it. Once ESPN comes to your brother’s games when he was a sophomore in high school, you have to get used to it,” Nina said with a shrug. “I’m old enough that it really doesn’t bother me.”

“How does your brother deal with it,” Sidney asked, curious as he remembered some of his early experiences with fame.

Nina replied, “College football is a different beast than the pros. So, he’s on scholarship and his days are pretty much regimented with meetings, practice, classes, more meetings, video study. I ran track when I was in undergrad so my experience was slightly similar. Main difference is that Jase gets paid for his likeness in video games now and a percentage of any jersey sales with his name and number.”

“You ran track,” Troy asked. Unlike his wife, he felt a bit more open towards Nina. It was obvious that she didn’t need Sidney for anything and Troy could see that his son was able to relax in a way with Nina that he hadn’t been able to relax with a woman before.

“I had a partial scholarship. I ran the 4x100 relay and the 100 meters. I didn’t have the athletic ability to race for a living but I did decent,” Nina stated, feeling a bit shy. It had been a long time since she even talked about her track career. “I was state champ my senior year and my team won silver at the Penn Relays my sophomore and junior years of college. Now, I just run to stay in shape.”

“Wow,” Sidney said, impressed. “Sounds like you loved it though.”

Nina flashed Sidney a grin. “I did, I love running. What most people forget is that you can’t just run for health, you have to run and do strength training and yoga or Pilates.”

“Have you been to any of your brother’s games,” Troy asked. “Seems like they are doing well.”

Nina replied, “We went to the season opener. I will never go to North Carolina in August ever again if I can help it. I’m going to their game next weekend at Virginia Tech. We’ll probably go to the bowl game since my little sister will be off school that week.”

“Seems like you stay busy,” Trina mused.

Nina couldn’t help a little glare as she managed to say without malice, “I plan my calendar in advance.”

Trina said, “That sounds good. You have a life outside of everything.”

“And I will continue to have a life outside of everything,” Nina said with a syrup-sweet smile.

Nina quietly washed her hands, glancing up to the mirror. Trina was looking down on her hands as she washed hers. Tentatively, Nina asked, “Are you having a good time on this trip?”

“I enjoyed the Moms’ trip,” Trina replied.

Nina looked down at her hands as she dried them. This was so awkward and she wanted to cry.

“Sidney Crosby is here, and so are his parents,” somebody exclaimed just outside the ladies bathroom. Trina and Nina both shared a look until another person said, “And his n-word girlfriend is here with them too.”

Nina opened her mouth but Trina put up a finger. The second person continued, “His mom doesn't look too happy with that black girl. Maybe you could get a chance, finally.”

The door opener and the two women came in, laughing. The laughter stopped when those women saw Nina and Trina.

“You don’t have to worry about getting a chance with my son because there’s no way I’d let him be with someone like you when he’s with a lady like Nina,” Trina stated.

The two women shared a look but Trina stared them down until they left. Nina let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “No wonder my son is always saying that it hasn’t been easy for you,” Trina offered. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get kicked out.”

Nina sniffled as she said, “That’s the first time I’ve heard it in person. It’s usually nasty messages online. I really, really hate it. But I guess I’m going to be stuck with this for the rest of my life.”

Impulsively, Trina reached out and grabbed Nina’s hand. “From the way that my son looks at you, nasty women like those will just have to be angry forever.”

Nina giggled as they shared a look. It felt like there was a truce and she was going to take it. After Trina talked to the manager and got those women booted, Nina definitely felt like there was definitely a truce.

“Don’t take anything seriously. If they don’t like you, they’ll say absolutely nothing to you. If they make jokes, they like you.”

Two weeks after meeting Sid’s family, it was his turn to meet Nina’s family. The team was home for American Thanksgiving and they didn’t have a game until Friday evening this year. So Sidney was going with Nina to meet her extended family. He was feeling extra nervous and desperate to make a good impression.

Sidney grimaced as Nina giggled. “Plus, it’s Aryanna’s birthday so they won’t be too mean. I think.”

“Anything else I need to worry about,” Sidney asked.

Nina reached out over the console and touched Sidney’s hand. “Relax, it’s not a game. You can’t lose.”

“But, I want them-”

Cutting Sidney off, Nina said, “I know, you want them to like you. So be the dork that you are instead of faking like you aren’t a dork.”

Sidney felt a bit insulted but Nina gave him a dazzling smile. “I like it when you’re being dorky, anyway.”

Sidney tried hard to follow Nina’s advice. There were so many people that he couldn’t keep them all straight so he focused on making sure he remembered the names of the older people in Nina’s family. There was Mawmaw, the family matriarch, Tracey and Vernon, Nina’s parents, Aunt Tasha who baked the sweet potato pie that he was having his third slice of, Aunt Dee, Uncle Tony, and Uncle Bashir. All of the cousins kinda blurred together but Sidney figured he’d learn their names quickly.

Overall, he felt like everything was going well. Sidney answered everyone’s questions and he guessed his answers were good since one of Nina’s older cousins told him his new nickname was White Boy. Nina had snickered while some of the younger ones giggled. Right now, Sidney was talking to Aunt Tasha. “What would it take to get you to bake me a pie of my own,” Sidney asked.

Tasha laughed while Tracey smirked. Tracey interjected, “Oh no, Tasha gonna be bragging about this forever. ‘Guess who came to Thanksgiving and loved my sweet potato pie? Sidney Crosby loved my sweet potato pie.’ She will never shut up!”

“Don’t be mad that you can’t bake a pie as good as me, Tracey,” Tasha chided, laughing. “Nina makes a better pie than both of us but that girl don’t wanna cook.”

Tracey smirked when she saw the look on Sidney’s face. “Oh no, Tash, now this boy gonna be begging my daughter to make him a pie.”

Everyone laughed as Nina was in a different room. Mawmaw chided, “I’m happy that one of my family don’t got to be in the kitchen like that. I wish I could’ve been the same at her age.”

Sidney decided to scroll his phone as the older women began to argue. Then he felt someone tap his shoulder.

“White boy, you wanna play spades?”

Sidney looked at this cousin of Nina. He was sitting at a table with Vernon, one of her aunts, and another cousin. “No,” he replied, shaking his head.

The cousin got a devious grin on his face. “It’s easy, you should play for Shantara, she can’t play for shit.”

Sidney’s competitive instinct told him it was a bad idea. And from the way Vernon was eyeing him, Sidney knew he was right for shaking his head. “Nope. I’ll learn by watching.”

“Nina’s white boy smart,” Aunt Tasha hollered. “You play spades and renege, boy, someone about to go for those knees.”

“Stop torturing, Sid, Deonte,” Nina scolded as she sat in Sidney’s lap. “At least wait til the second visit before hazing him over spades.”

“I like this boy, Nini. Keep him, he’s betta than that last boy you brought here, bless his heart. Didn’t know how to talk to people,” Mawmaw advised.

Nina wanted to die as the rest of her family snickered. Holidays: the time of the year where your greatest fuckups get rehashed for shits and giggles.

Nafis snorted. “What’s his name... it wasn’t that Ron boy, was it? Naw, it was James’s old friend, Jordan. We all knew he wasn’t shit, I mean, nothing, when he made Tommy mad.”

Nina winced as remembered that. Tommy was one of the sweetest guys and hard to rile up, but anyone who could make cousin Tommy mad was a douchebag.

“Her pets like him. Tess curls in his lap and Steely lets him pet him,” Vernon said.

Everyone stared at Sidney, eyes wide. Stuttering, Aunt Tasha said, “T-t-that cat and d-dog hate every damn body other than Nini and her family. I be damned.”

Mawmaw laughed.

The rest of the dinner went without incident. But at a quiet moment, Vernon pulled Sidney from the group to a quiet spot in the yard. It was late November in Western Pennsylvania so no one else was there.

Vernon Jackson had seen more of his fair share of crap in his life. Growing up in Ward 8 of D.C., Vernon had dodged dealers, hustlers, stick-up kids, etc. to survive. His grades weren’t great so Vernon went into the army to ensure that he escaped. Through being deployed in the Gulf War then to Mogadishu, Vernon had done his best to make sure that all his children had more than he did growing up.

Now, his sweettart, his eldest, his sweet girl, Nina was grown. She had done more than he and Tracey combined. But looking at the man he was sure his daughter was in love with, Vernon began to wonder if he made a mistake.

Oh, it was obvious that Sidney Crosby was in love with his daughter. But the feelings of love could fade and given his history, Vernon couldn’t trust that Crosby would do the right thing.

So as a loving father, Vernon pulled Sidney to the side. “I just wanted to ask you something important before I give my blessing to this.”

“Yes, sir,” Sidney responded.

“You know your children will be considered Black?”

Vernon watched Sidney’s face after asking that question. Lust and infatuation was nice but this was his little girl. The last thing he wanted was his daughter hurt because she fell for someone not just clueless but maliciously clueless about race.

Sidney quietly replied, “I know. People will see them as Black and will think the worst of them first.”

Not bad, Vernon thought. He expected a colorblind response.

Then he heard Nina call out, “Dad? Sid? We are about to cut the cake!”

Vernon and Sid both grimaced but for different reasons. Vernon because he couldn’t really have cake because of his diabetes, Sid because cake wasn’t on his meal plan. Vernon told Sidney, “before you start making plans for rings, you need to start thinking about how you are going to start speaking up about race. Think about that.”

Sidney kept Vernon’s words in his mind through the week. Trina had told him what happened in the bathroom that night but Nina told him that his mom had handled it for her. But as he waited for Nina to open her door, Sidney couldn’t help but think what he could do to avoid situations like that from happening for Nina. But words failed as Nina opened the door and gave him a shy smile.

“Hi pretty girl,” Sidney drawled as he walked in, closing the door. He hung up his coat on her coat rack before sitting on Nina’s couch.

“I missed you daddy”

“Missed you, pretty girl. Did you have fun?”

Nina straddled Sid’s thigh and replied, “it was a good time even though UNC lost. The VT campus is beautiful. How was the road trip?”

Sid laughed as Nina played with his hair. “It went well but Geno got hurt. He’ll be out for two weeks.”

“That sucks.”

Sidney hummed his assent as he wrapped an arm around Nina’s waist. He missed his pretty girl and it seemed like she missed him too. They sat there together for several quiet moments before Nina whispered, “I really missed you, daddy. It’s been too long.”

Sidney gave Nina a slow smile as she began to grind on his thigh. He felt the same way as he kissed Nina, soft and slow. Then as they broke apart, the sensual haze on Nina’s face turned into horror. “God damn it,” she muttered.

Sidney frantically asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just felt my period show up, three days early,” Nina said, rubbing her temples. Her period was cock-blocking her after a couple weeks of no dick and she wanted to die. “I just felt cramps and as much as I’d like to slide to my knees and suck you off, it won’t happen tonight.”

Nina groaned as she closed her eyes, head down. Sidney just started to laugh.

“Cmon, pretty girl. Let’s just watch movies tonight.”

“Movies sound good,” Nina replied, “I just refuse to watch Friends, ever.”

Sidney giggle-honked as Nina moved from straddling his thigh to curling into his lap.

128 notes · View notes

xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Text

Midnight ball | Chuuya x reader |

Midnight Ball | Chuuya x reader | (female reader)

I feel like I'm doing Chuuya dirty with this one-

Warnings- references to some NSFW themes, inferred attempted rape, mentions of drug use.

(really hesitant on actually posting this... nothing happens, but I don't wanna make people too uncomfortable)

Undercover missions were normal in the port mafia. Every once in a while they would come up. You went on a lot of these missions. Even the ones you didn’t care for.

The air was brisk, not too cold, but not a comfortable warmth either. It wasn’t every day you were called in on what should have been your day off. The clouds covered the noon sun, keeping its warmth tucked away. It felt as if it may rain. Maybe snow would fall with how cold the air was. The trees were bare of their leaves and the grass slowly warping to brown. The winter flowers, in full bloom. You shivered tugging the scarf closer as you walked towards the black buildings. Stepping inside was bliss, the air warm and welcoming. You walked slowly towards the elevator stepping inside as it carried you to the level Mori’s office was.

Making your way into the office, your eyes landed on the short male you had become close to. Running a hand through your hair you looked to Mori. “Ya know it’s my day off right? This better be important.” you had guts talking to your boss like this. Elise snickered from the corner of the large room, drawing a picture. Most likely something rather disturbing, as she tended to do.

You hadn’t noticed it before, but Chuuya’s face was contorted in both disgust and anger. Whatever this was, gave him quite displeasure. “He’s having us go undercover. Instead of picking another female… he’s making me wear a fucking dress.” his eyes narrowed in Mori's direction.

“Well, you work well with (y/n). I carefully considered members like Kouyou, but none of them matched what I needed for the minor mission." Mori grinned as Chuuya huffed, crossing his arms.

You tried to imagine him in a dress, but the only thing that you could think of was Kouyou, considering they did both have ginger hair. Shrugging you grabbed Chuuya’s hand, tugging him away. You figured he could brief you on the mission later.

As the sun fell under the horizon, and the moon took its place in night's embrace, the two of you settled inside the limo. Chuuya’s arms were crossed as he tugged on the dress. His eyes set in heavy glares. His hair happened to be up in a neat bun. It had taken a lot of fighting and shouting that could have deafened somebody. He was even dolled up with light specks of makeup. The red dress suited his form, his height made it ideal for heels. He already had a feminine figure, so there wasn’t much you needed to do to pass him as a female. He kept squirming around glaring at you. “How the fuck do girls wear these dreaded things.” he hissed, referring to the corset hidden beneath the silk he wore.

Snickering you shrugged leaning back. “They say beauty is pain,” you hummed, leaning back in your seat. This wasn’t ideal for you either. You much preferred to be slightly dressed down from this. Looking as fancy as you did now wasn’t modest, and it sure wasn’t something you liked to wear. You were sucking it up so why couldn’t Chuuya? Could he really be all that uncomfortable? “I could loosen it a bit.” you offered, but Chuuya shook his head staring at himself. He had mastered heals within a handful of moments so you weren’t worried about him tripping. The real challenge would be flirting with the target.

This was a two-person job due to the size of the party and the security around the target. One of you would distract the guards while the other smooth-talked their way into a private area with the target. They would either get the extent of the information this person had managed to take early this morning or silence him. You two hadn’t decided who would be doing what. It was more one of those whoever gets there first situations. The car pulled up to the entrance just as your thoughts finished. Stepping onto the ground you waited for Chuuya. The clunk of his heels on the pavement were steady and even. You went to remind him about his expression, but he rolled his eyes. “I know, no scowling, glaring, or yelling.”

You smiled gripping the edge of the dress, pulling it up so you could walk the stairs without tripping on the (f/c) fabric. Your hair was down but pinned in specific places. “Don’t forget, no swearing. We have to act ladylike Chu.” clicking his tongue, he pinched the fabric of his dress and walked up after you. Entering the large mansion you were escorted to the ballroom. Standing at the railing that overlooked the floor you smiled. Never in your life had you been to one of these. You truly wanted to participate at least a little.

Chuuya noticed the excited glimmer of your eyes and grabbed your hand. Tonight, you both were trying to pass as two female teenage siblings whose parents wanted a night alone. Without a boyfriend, the two of you showed up alone. A naive action when it came to noble parties. These were incredible to get into. You had to have power and money somewhere. He pulled you down the stairs, flashing you a small smile. He wouldn’t admit but this wasn’t that bad. He didn’t mind the corset or the way the dress flowed in the wind. He minded the hair since he always wore it in one specific style. He’d done this once before with Dazai but doing this with you was different. Probably because he wasn’t being forced to be the fiance this time. “We might as well try to enjoy ourselves.” he was surprisingly skilled at keeping his voice higher in pitch. There were a few occasional slips, but he sounded somewhat feminine.

Smirking you pulled him to the food table. “I’d say you're actually enjoying yourself Chu.” his eyes narrowed for a second before playfully hitting your shoulder.

“Sure I am.” he huffed looking over the table of snacks. He grabbed one of the tea-sandwiches and took small bites. Despite how he tried to enjoy himself, he was focused on the mission. There was still no sign of the target. Two older-looking gentlemen came up to the pair of you, holding their hands out.

“Would you two care for a dance?” Chuuya’s mouth twitched to snarl, but he quickly put on a smile despite how much he wanted to string profanities. You glanced at him, inhaling softly, you tapped his shoulder as if to reassure him.

“Depends~ how old do you think we are?” you two had decided on your roles already. To spare Chuuya some dignity you would try to be the more seductive while he played the part of the shyer, more innocent twin. Since he was a boy playing a girl, he matched the innocent child-like stereotype well, considering he didn’t have breasts.

One of the men standing in front of you chuckled lightly. “Teens, though it’s not like we're hitting on you. We simply wish to take you for a dance. You appear lonely.” Chuuya was sick to his stomach already. The last time he’d done this he didn’t have to deal with these situations because Dazai had been there. Yet, as he looked to you, he tilted his head. Your hand grabbed the man's as you looked back to Chuuya.

“Trust me, it’ll be fun. There aren't any men our age, so trust me.” the act flew softly off your lips. There was a hidden motion when you flicked your ankle. It would have passed as your feet were slightly sore to anybody else. Chuuya glanced to the railing, spotting the target. He nodded, faking a smile as the two of you entered the dance floor.

With every pulse of the music, you got closer and closer to the edge. Your eyes tracing for the amount of guards. Though based on what you were observing you had both already found them. It was a widely known fact your target had a thing for younger females. Not young like Elise but teenagers who appear frail. You and Chuuya most definitely looked the part tonight. Dipping you back your eyes met Chuuya's, a smirk crossing both of your expressions. When you returned to the normal position you switched partners.

Things started going slightly south from there. While you two had managed to keep your dancing rather close to one another, you were starting to drift apart now. Chuuya moved closer to the stairwell, while you made your way towards the back doors. Despite how you tried to move back towards him, your dance partner kept you moving in that direction. Eventually, you noted what was going on. Occasionally these types of missions had unexpected twists. This was one of those twists. You hadn’t thought to watch for other predators. Trying to rip your hands from his you glared. “I ought to get back to my sister.” you wove innocence into your voice, but he paid no mind as if he had not heard you. As the music ended, the rough grip that had succeeded in pulling the two of you apart let go. A silent satisfactory smirk placed over his lips. Walking from you he headed back to find another dancing partner.

Walking around you began to search for Chuuya among the crowd. Innocently asking couples and other women if they had seen a short, rather young-looking female ginger dressed in red. They had shaken their heads but one couple pointed towards the stairs. You curtsied respectfully, racing to the stairs only to be stopped by the two men you had previously been dancing with. Batting your eyelashes you explained somebody had seen your sister walk up these stairs not too long ago.

You couldn’t help but feel worried despite knowing Chuuya could handle himself with the utmost care. He was strong both physically and ability-wise. You bit the inside of your cheek figuring, they probably weren't idiots. If they had separated the two of you they had to think you already knew something was up. You'd probably made that worse when you tried pulling away in the dance. The high-heels were beginning to get rather annoying. They were difficult to run in, jumping would probably result in a twisted ankle if you don't land perfectly. You made sure to blend away into the crowd. Losing their eyes you slipped through doors until you made it into a hallway. Laying out the map of the building in your head you walked the halls trying to find the staircase leading upstairs. You had to dodge behind corners to avoid security. It took you close to ten minutes to finally reach the stairs. There were so many rooms it would be difficult to find which one to enter. You narrowed it down to two in your head. The others would be a waste of time, the two you had narrowed it to were close to the ballroom, small, and were bar areas. Off-limits to party-goers as well. There would be no interruptions to their perverted actions.

You looked around, spotting a guard, you gripped the edge of your glove with your teeth. Walking up as if you were scared you began to stumble purposely over words. “I-i think I’m lost. I needed the ladies room and I couldn't find my sis or the ballroom.” faking tears as you got closer, the security officer's eyes softened as you approached. Taking you as a younger female instead of an adult, he offered out his hand. You gripped it before smirking as your ability activated. Moving your hand away, you tilted your head. “Sleep,” you commanded them. They fell to the floor with a thud. Grabbing the gun from their belt you checked that the safety was on. Assured it was you stashed it in your dress. Walking to the first room you burst inside finding no sign anybody had been there, you closed the door.

Making your way to the next option you pressed an ear to the door. Whispers and the sound of metal sent you to a light panic. Glaring at the door you pulled the gun out and switched the safety off. Entering the room you pointed the gun only to hear clicks follow. Your eyes darted to the sound. “So there were four.” snarling you entered and shut the door with your heel. Your mind began thinking of every way to get away from this situation. You lowered your gun with a defeated sigh. Letting it drop to the floor, one of the guns pressed to your head. Their hand grabbed your wrist as you looked to the mop of passed-out ginger.

“Damn idiot,” you hissed knowing this was probably the result of drugging. There was no way in hell he’d be beaten by mere ability-less scum. Shoved to the floor you glared. Your hands were pulled above you. Looking to the side you snickered at the poor idiot who touched your skin. “Kill your boss,” you commanded and their body dropped you and turned to the person whose hands were on your love interest. When the next guy pointed the gun at you, you swept them off their feet, whistled, and pointed. “Shoot them.” with another fire, two of three were dead. “Now shoot yourself.” and so they ended up three of three. Tossing off the heels you made your way over to Chuuya. Checking his pulse you rolled your eyes.

You lifted him in your arms before leaving the bloody scene. Your dress was now stained with splatters of crimson. Jumping from the window, then to a tree, and down, you placed Chuuya in the limo. Grabbing a bottle of water you opened his mouth and poured it down his throat. He stirred a bit, his head falling on your shoulder. Blushing lightly you found the back of his dress was open and the corset already loosened. “Got there just in time.” you sighed as the limo pulled to your small apartment. Lifting him you carried him inside. Dropping him to the bed you sat on the opposite side of the bed.

It took three hours before his eyes fluttered open. Holding his head, he glanced at you. “Why the fuck are you here?” of course his first words would be aggressive. He could hide it all he wanted by the shiver of his body and the way his hands moved to his back made it clear. Finding the strings and ribbon undone as well as torn his eyes widened for a fraction.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be separated like that.” you played around with your gloves looking back at him you pulled a thing of makeup wipes from the side table. Tossing it to him, you sighed. “I hope you don’t mind, I had Dazai lock pick your door and get you your usual clothes.” he couldn’t even be mad at you for letting that bastard into his house. His mind was still focused on recollecting what had happened. He was beyond humiliated. He should have seen it coming. “I should have gotten there faster. They shouldn’t have been able to even get that close. I’m so sorry Chuuya! I’ll talk to Mori about not putting you on these types of missions. I know you're mad but please… say something.” you twirled a strand of your hair on your finger.

“I should have been prepared.” he looked away from you before feeling your arms around his body. Your head laid in the crook of his neck as you shook your head violently. He felt something wet soil, the shoulder of his dress. Turning so he could pick your head up, he blinked, startled to see the water dripping from your eyes. “You’re crying?” he sounded baffled, confused even.

“I should have let you be yourself! If I hadn’t pushed you to act like an innocent defenseless child, that situation would have been different.'' Chuuya gripped your shoulders laughing lightly as he shook his head. “You didn’t even have a good time! You hated being there.”

“No, no, (y/n)... I... Fuck!” he was bad at words, so as he tried forming the correct words he kept shaking his head. “I enjoyed spending time with you! I’d prefer to accompany you as a man next time. Neither of us are at fault. Missions go south. Nobody got hurt, sure I feel like an idiot, I’m utterly humiliated that I let my guard down and got drugged up, but nothing happened.” he pressed his forehead against yours, his thumb wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

This was out of character for him, but it was a side only you gotta see. He hated seeing you break down or get upset over things you had no control over. His hands wrapped around your ungloved ones. Your skin touches him with a small shyness. “Can I?” he asked watching you nod as his lips passed over yours.

“We both deserve a break from work. How about we tell Mori we are taking two days off?” you hummed looking into his eyes. He smirked and nodded. His lips pressing back to yours in a heated kiss. You pressed him underneath you with a smirk. His face went red as he glared.

“You’re a fucking pervert.” he hissed watching you snicker.

“Wow Chu, I'm so offended.” you leaned back into a kiss as his cheeks turned a brighter shade of red. “Think this makes us a real couple.” he rolled his eyes as you rolled to lay next to him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

#chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya fluff

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams II

Characters: Diluc, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,273

Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. The history nerd really came out this time around.

Diluc

You knew that holding onto the past too much was a dangerous game to play. Yet you continued to chase it, desperately looking for something that might finally bridge your present self to the person you’d left behind.

You’d been mostly upfront to Diluc about this obsession of yours. Knowing that your partner also lost his family, it was easier in some ways to grasp onto this shared loss, and to use it as a way to continue on. Not that Diluc ever pushed you to forget your past, as other might have done. Instead he tried to help you, using his not inconsiderable connections to attempt to find as such land that matched the vague descriptions you could give. Though you knew the quest was most likely no more than a wild goose, you greatly appreciated his attempt to help.

However you knew that even someone as kind and understanding as Diluc would never be able to condone something like this.

You rubbed your arms, feeling every inch of the cold musty ruins around you. You’d heard that a sizeable group of Abyss members were gathering here and figured that these figures who boasted of civilizations long gone might be valuable pieces of information. Though sneaking into a gathering of the upper members of the Abyss was perhaps not the smartest thing you’d ever done. It was too late to turn back now however. Ducking into a corner you slowed your breathing, hoping that no one would care to look at the nook in which you were now curled up.

Listening to the slow creaking of the domain you suddenly felt the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as the air grew charged with magic. The room around you suddenly grew completely silent, as if even the walls were aware of something important. Not daring to sneak a peak at what was happening you closed your eyes, willing your senses to focus on your ears.

“My brethren, I’m glad to see you.”

Opening your eyes wide you gathered your control, willing yourself to not immediately turn around. The voice was familiar, its cadence smooth and soothing, polished as marble. It struck something within you, some deep hidden memory that you’d long ago forgotten. Now that memory struggled to the surface of your mind, the sketch of a long ago time.

“I know that our plans are continuing smoothly. Soon we will able to Khaenri’ah, and topple those who so callously left it to smolder, having lit the flame themselves. We will one more emerge into the world, no longer required to hide our faces.”

The words passed through you, intangible as air. What were they talking about? Nothing was making sense, not one word was something you could interpret. And yet the voice seemed almost an explanation in itself. If you knew who was talking then you’d find out the answers, or at least some of them. Vraning your head ever so slightly you looked up, jerking back slightly in shock as you found amber eyes staring right at you.

The person who was talking was immensely familiar, everything about them echoed with a long gone familiarity. Looking out of place amidst the rank and file members of the Abyss he exuded a cold sort of confidence, a determination to see his words realized. Staring at him you noticed the emblem which embellished the scarf he wore around his neck, a golden eagle which seemed to move with the fabric. A part of you was tempted to run, but you found yourself frozen, trying desperately to process the figure which danced before your eyes.

The young man said nothing, gaze shifting as he calmly began to speak again, though you couldn’t hear his words over the pounding of your heart. When his gaze once more passed yours he grinned an understanding sort of grin. It was as if you two were cohorts in some sort of pranks of scheme, rather than complete strangers who stood on opposites ends of an invisible struggle. The gesture confused you, and you found yourself sinking back to the ground. Putting your head in your arms you took a few deep breaths. You would figure out what was going on. It was alright, there was a logical explanation for this. Perhaps he just wanted to finish up this odd gathering before turning his minions upon you.

And yet the order to attack never came. After what must’ve been at least an hour the young man declared the gathering over. The air filled with the familiar mark of waypointing, and soon the ruin was once more deadly quiet. Straightening your back you studied the wall opposite of you, sure that you were dreaming a confusing sort of dream.

“You can come out now.”

You jumped, freezing as you wondered what to do. You thought that you were alone, yet he remained. Was this the moment, had you truly just been tricked.

“You don’t have to be so afraid.” Laughter drifted to your ears. “I promise the rest are gone.”

Slowly turning around you peered over the broken wall once more. True to the young man’s word there was no one left, only the two of you. Standing up slowly you summoned your sword, still not trusting the person in front of you.

“What is it?”

“That’s the last thing I expect you to ask.” The young man was smirking now. “Surely there are more important things.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You wound me! Have you truly forgotten the face of your family.”

The words felt jagged, almost accusatory. You stiffened, face twisting into a scowl as you moved your sword slightly forward.

“You’re a liar.”

“I assure you I’m not! Why, I cannot believe you truly have forgotten so much. Is it just me, or have we all been banished from your thoughts?”

Reaching into his pocket he threw something at you. Catching it you stared at the egg, mind full of half-incredulous questions. The egg was evidently a work of ambition and love, its outer shell the color of the night. Diamonds crept up the sides of the egg, embedded into gold that shone even in the dark of your current place. There were four portraits embedded into the sides, studded with diamonds and crowned with stars that seemed so bright and silverly you were almost afraid to run your fingers over them. Something that seemed to be monograms sat underneath the portraits, but the script evaded your understanding.

Shifting your gaze to the portraits you found an even greater surprise. The person staring back at you, a small smile on her face, was you – though you couldn’t recognize the complex dress in which you’d been painted. The portrait was such a good likeness it took your breath away, the miniscule brush strokes truly the work of a master painter. Rotating the egg slowly you recognized the young man in front of you as the next model. Sporting what could only be some sort of military uniform, small medals of red and blue lined up on top of a blue sash, he seemed to be joking with the artist, his cocky smile offset by the stark lighting of his eyes. Next was a woman, somewhat who could only be this boy’s mother. He face was set in a straight line, her expression one of regal aloofness, as if she was thinking of something very far away. She was wearing the same sort of dress as you, though hers was much more complex in nature. The clothing screamed importance, as if to confirm the expression on her face. Lastly you found yourself looking at the portrait of someone who was presumably the boy’s father. Surprisingly under dressed her wore the same uniform as the boy, the only distinction being the number of medals. No crown sat on his head, no sign of any particular regal bearing shone in the portrait; instead there was a tiredness about him, a cloud which betrayed the fact that he was ultimately quite unworthy of remembrance.

“Do you remember now?”

You looked up wildly, denial fighting with realization as you shook your head. This wasn’t remembering; remembering was something else entirely. Remembering wasn’t the feel of the world sinking around you, remembering wasn’t losing faith in the world around you.

“Are you telling me that this means nothing to you?” Accusation flooded the boy’s speech as he glared at you.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I, I don’t trust this.”

“Always the same sister.” The boy’s tone was mocking now. “You always were the suspicious one, and as unambitious as our poor father once was.”

“Was?”

“He’s changed his tune quite a bit. He had too, of course. How could anyone stay so weak after surviving what we survived?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about death. Or as close to it as one can get I suppose. You should know this, you were there when they stormed the place, when they took us away. You were there when we were ordered to the basement.”

A flash of memory danced in your vision, speeding up your breath as you were overtaken by sudden panic. Swaying slightly you screwed your eyes shut, letting out a cry of frustration when the memory only grew stronger. You were dancing for a moment, spinning around with the boy in front of you as a distant melody drifted upon the air. Then you were inside an unfamiliar place, the new space so claustrophobic it squeezed the air out of you, the windows, having been painted over, offered no reprise. Then it was midnight and you were shuffling outside. The stars seemed so distant; they’d stared cold and unfeeling down as you shuffled behind a familiar figure, entering a door which seemed so familiar.

You leaned against the stone wall, trying to find some sort of reprieve in the cold damp of it. Forcing your eyes open you stared once more at the strange boy in front of you. His expression was one of ill-concealed triumph, mixed with barely suppressed rage.

“Do you see now? Do you see what they did to us? A wonder any of us escaped at all, then again I suppose those wretched idiots had no sense of magic. They were after all a bunch of thugs.”

“Where… where was that place?” You heaved slightly, feeling as if the ground was floating underneath you.

“Somewhere long destroyed. No point in thinking of it now. There is only this world after all. This world and the destruction that seized it as well. Only this one can be saved.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Khaenri’ah! The city struck down by the gods who could contemplate no power except their own! Their people suffered the fate of ours, should they not get the revenge we will never be allowed?”

“You’re mad.”

“Am I? Or are you just the same coward as always?” The boy shook his head. Pointing to the egg in your hand he back away. “You can keep it. Think of it as a memento, a way to contact me. If you ever wish to see right, well, I’ll be waiting.”

And then he was gone, so fast it was as if he’d never existed, as if he’d suddenly turned to dust. Sinking to the ground you pushed scalding air into your lungs, watching helplessly as your vision spotted around you. What had you done, oh gods what had you done?

The return trip to the Winery was an excruciating one. At first panic had been your only sensation, as you half stumbled, half crawled your way out of the Abyss’ lair, stopping every few minutes to lay down as to not pass out. The moment you got into the open air you made your way towards the nearest stream, waterlogging yourself in your hurry to pour icy water down your throat. Collapsed on the back you stared up at the sky. It was still night, which meant Diluc was probably guarding Mondstadt. You prayed to Barbatos that he wouldn’t notice your absence, for how could you deal with your shame? You’d been so foolish. How could you have ever expected things to turn out well? Now you were simply paying the price for your arrogance.

Finally lifting yourself up from your position you stumbled the rest of the way to the Winery, careful to keep your mind blank, afraid of what might happen if you let panic once more set in. Tears pricked in your eyes as familiar vines appeared within your sight, and you could’ve cried for joy upon opening the sturdy oaken door and crossing the threshold of the place you’d learned to call home. Creeping upstairs, hoping desperately that you hadn’t managed to wake any of the other residents, you breathed a sigh of relief when you entered the familiar bedroom which you’d grown to call you own. Sinking down onto the coverlet you let out a soft sigh, finally letting tears fall as you drifted off to sleep.

-------

Yet your dreams refused to offer you any sort of reprieve. Finding yourself in a darkened hall you silently passed a variety of rooms, their imposing grandeur a familiar one. Someone seemed to be whispering a song in your ear, though when you turned to see who it was no one appeared.

“How can I desert you, how to tell you why.”

Reaching a room even grandeur than the rest you stared at the chairs that sat on dais on the opposite side from where you entered. They shimmered as if a mirage, and when you went to approach them two figures seemed to appear out of thin air. The man and the woman that were painted into the egg gazed at you with sad eyes, each saying nothing as you continued to make your way towards them.

“Let me have a moment, let me say goodbye.”

“Who are you?” You called out to them. The woman turned her head, as if ashamed of your lapse of memory. The man stood up slowly, arms reaching towards you slightly. Hurrying your pace you moved to meet him, spurred on by some unrecognized emotion.

“Harsh and sweet and bitter to leave it all.”

You as you reached the man he vanished, red ash falling softly to the ground in his wake. Gasping in horror you watched as the woman did the same. Suddenly the dream began to crumble, burning itself away to reveal nothing but black. Dropping you into an eternal night you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll bless my homeland ‘til I die.”

You bolted up, mind struggling to place where you were. Looking around you, your eyes were met with the familiar comforts of your home. A soft light drifting through the crack in the curtains, the foretelling of the dawn.

Besides you Diluc stirred. Sitting up slowly, rubbing his eyes in a gesture which made your heart squeeze, he glanced at you through sleep eyes.

“Is there something wrong, my love?”

You meant to say no, to assure him that you’d just had a strange dream. Yet the softness of his voice was contrasted so with the venom of the young man and the silence of the people who seemed to have been your family that you found yourself cracking. The sobs were soft at first, but soon you found yourself wailing, not caring how your hoarse voice pierced through the quiet of the Winery.

“My love?”

Diluc immediately wrapped his arms around you, saying nothing as you continued to sob into his chest, staining his nightshirt with tears as you cried out all the tears you could possibly contain. You felt like the world around you was shattering, like nothing was real anymore. You felt as if all you had held to was suddenly gone, and nothing remained but searing contempt.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Diluc carded his fingers through your hair, whispering soft words of comfort as your sobs diminished. Finally you felt completely spent, and as you relaxed in his arms you felt a sudden surge of tiredness, washing over you and calling you once more to the perilous depths of sleep.

“May I ask you what’s wrong?”

You fought your fatigue, disconnecting yourself slightly as to look Diluc in the face. Could you tell him what had occurred? Could you lay bare your weakness, your shame, your guilt? A part of you recoiled at the idea. And yet, as you stared at Diluc you found yourself recounting what happened, shaky breaths accompanying your soft confession. Lowering your gaze you spoke of your night, grateful that Diluc never let his arms leave you.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?” Lifting your gaze you found Diluc’s eyes raw, his expression one of surprising honesty.

“I was selfish, and I didn’t expect the consequences of my action. All I could think of was the past, of getting back what I’d once had.”

“And is that not a natural thing?” Diluc took a deep breath, hold on you tightening slightly. “If I could not remember what had happened to my father – if I woke up one day in an unfamiliar place with nothing but a sense of loss – I would go to the ends of the world to find what I’d lost. There is no crime in wanting your loved ones home, even when you cannot recognize them.”

“And yet it seems the only survivor has turned into a monster.”

“Does that make your past love for him any less? Do the bonds of family immediately cut the moment our loved ones turn rotten?”

You thought back to the young man in the ruins, to his mockery and his impatience. You hated him, you hated what he was doing. And yet you missed him, you somehow missed him so much. Turnign towards the nightstand you opened the small drawer. Pulling out the egg you’d been given you examined it in the dim light. How beautiful it was, how different from the image that had been put in front of you.

“Do you wish to forget what you have remembered?” Diluc’s voice was filled with nothing but kindness.

“No.” Even if it embarrassed you to say, you knew it was the truth.

“Then don’t forget it.”

You smiled, placing the egg once more in your drawer. Though it had only been a few words, though this terrible night hadn’t been erased from your memory, you somehow found yourself much lighter. Turning to Diluc you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you.”

Diluc said nothing, merely leaning down to kiss you as well. Cushioned in the familiar sanctuary of his arms you allowed the darkness of your encounter to drift from your mind.

-----

Drifting off to sleep you found yourself once more in a corridor, face to face with the man who was once your father. You stared at him, wondering if he would disappear again.

“Are you truly happy as you are now?”

“Yes.” Somehow you knew it was the truth.

“I see,” the man nodded, a slight smile flashing across his face, “then we shall keep you no longer.”

Leaning over he kissed you softly on the forehead. Next to him now stood the woman who was one your mother. Smiling now, a smile which utterly transformed her melancholy aura, she wrapped you in a hug.

“Do not forget us.” She whispered.

Even as the words were spoken you knew that you never could.

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

The egg that I used this time around is a reference to Faberge eggs. The tradition having been started by Alexander III giving an egg every Easter to Empress Maria Feodorovna, the tradition was continued by Nicholas the second - who gave an egg to his wife and his mother every year. Each egg is a masterpiece of innovation and creativity and is breathtaking in its aesthetic and in the mechanic of hiding its “surprise”. The two eggs I used as reference were the Alexander Palace Egg (1908) and the Twelve Monogram Egg (1896).

The song that I referenced this time around was “Stay I Pray You” from the Anastasia musical. Highly recommend.

The parents are based off of Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna. I do not have time to go into them because we will be here for 300 years. The dresses I mentioned are traditional Russian court gowns. An image will be linked in the reblog.

#genshin impact fanfiction #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin impact #requested #scenarios #my writing

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sunlightandsuffering · 3 years

Note

Mikasa getting insecure abt her body (smth abt her boobs being too small or her feeling like she looks like a man) and refuses to have sex cuz she’s scared eren might be disgusted by her but when they finally do he’s absolutely whipped and make sure to give her extra praises too🥺

😭😭 bestie Mikasa's boobs being too small??? oh god 😂😂 okay for once in my life I'm going to do this not in a modern AU, look at me go lol. also I was never really sure if they had bras in AOT 😂😂 so like were going with chest wrapping for the purpose of this fic lol.

Mikasa hates her boobs.

She's always hated her boobs, for varying reasons, but right now she really fucking hates her god damn boobs.

They've always been problematic, but this is just icing on the cake.

When she was younger, they'd been nothing but small buds, which was to be expected during puberty, she'd spent endless amounts of time wondering if they'd ever grow, if that's what boys found attractive? If that's what it would take for Eren to see her as a woman rather than as this irritating older sister figure.

When she'd had the time and hadn't been worrying about Eren causing trouble or helping Carla out with chores, she'd fantasized that maybe one day she'd blossom into a beautiful woman and Eren would fall head over heels in love with her. Some ridiculous fantasy all little girls have, that one day when she's older more mature, a far off dream, she'll be beautiful and Eren will be forced to look at her with a wanting eye rather than his usual disdain.

But now, here she is in her far off dream, finally a grown woman, old enough to fight in the military at least and with the figure she'd always dreamed of. Only now it's nothing more than a hindrance, and contrary to her previous hopes and dreams Eren seems to have no interest. Her skills as a soldier interest him more than her breasts do. She glares at her chest in the mirror, trying to bind it down farther, they stick out so much, they're too big and she wants to cry. Her uniforms never fit properly, they give her back problems, and one day she's afraid some sort of wayward projectile is going to hit them, they stick out so god damn far.

It's a sick cosmic joke, where she used to dream of a full figure, the stuff the older women used to talk about, how they'd gossip when she went into town with Carla, she's achieved exactly what she wants to. Now she wants nothing more than to ask Hange how to cut them off, if it's possible, remove them with a scalpel herself.

Yet, the part of her that's not pragmatic and hungering for Eren's affection likes them, she thinks objectively her gentle curves are pleasing to the eye, and she knows even if Eren doesn't seem at all intrigued, other men definitely are. However, this is also the part of her that hates her muscles, despite their use in keeping her alive, she dislikes how bulky they are, how her abs are just as good as Eren's she feels manly.

Basically, Mikasa both hates and loves her body for a variety of reasons, and she's constantly at war with how she feels about it. She huffs as she sits down, taking off her bindings and letting her chest spill free from her top, letting out a sigh of relief as she's released from her constraints.

This is the best part of her day and for a second Mikasa lays back on her bed, topless and boobs out, hands splayed above her, happy to be free from the irritating fabric. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting her guard down for the briefest of seconds, going over today's events in her head, how Eren will never in his life see her as a woman. She lets out an aggravated sigh, he's so irritating, she loves him, she loves him so much, and he's such a stubborn brat.

She nods off a little bit, her exhaustion taking over, so by the time she tunes back into the world around her it's too late. "Mikasa, are you in there, Mikasa!?" Eren's tell-tale calls of her name should have her up sooner, make for a quicker reaction, but by the time she really processes that he's nearby and looking for her the door is already open and her eyes fly up to find the object of her affections staring at her. Well not her, rather her chest, those brilliant viridians are glued to her chest, roving over her figure and she feels hot, exposed as Eren's eyes take on a different gleam she's never seen before. She's quite sure it's desire she sees in his eyes, and well maybe she's a little slower to bring her hands up to cover herself than she should be, she likes that look in his eyes. "Eren!"

His green eyes snap up to meet hers as her hands move to cover her chest finally, and he looks guilty, face flushed and breathing a little hard.

"Umm sorry, we're just eating soon so I thought I'd come get you." "Yeah, okay."

She chooses not to acknowledge the elephant in the room, it's better they just pretend it didn't happen. But her heart is thumping against her chest and she knows she'll never forget it. She moves to grab her discarded bindings, annoyed she'll have to put them on again and Eren finally startles enough to leave the room, shutting the door behind him with a thump and looking altogether to distracted.

She's venting to Sasha about the state of her figure one day in the dining room, cursing away her stupid chest.

"They get in the way all the time, they don't look nice in anything." "Well at least you have some, mine are practically nonexistent." "You can have them," Mikasa responds, "I hate my boobs."

Their conversation is interrupted by a very obvious choking sound and the two girls look up to notice Eren in the doorway holding a snack and looking scandalized. Mikasa wants to die, turning away from him, she's so embarrassed. The 'incident' as she's come to refer to it wasn't even that long, and now he's heard her talk about how much she hates her breasts, what more could go wrong in her life.

Eren leaves before he even enters the room, "I'm just going to go."

He stumbles out and Mikasa buries her head in her hands, why is she so unlucky?

It happens again a week later, when Eren yet again refuses to knock, waltzing right into her bedroom while she's midway through wrapping her bindings and it's enough to shock her into letting out a little shriek.

"Sorry!" Eren quickly turns around but it's a bit late she has to start binding her chest all over again. "Umm, it's okay, what do you need?"

She unwraps her chest, about to start again when Eren takes her sentence as his cue to turn around, which it is definitely not. "Eren!"

"Sorry, sorry, I thought you were done." "No!"

It's quiet for a moment as Mikasa is about to start yet again, for the third time, and then Eren speaks, "Do you um need any help?" Not exactly, but it is easier to do it with someone helping her, she's just used to doing it by herself.

Mikasa bites her lip, she's having particular difficulty today, maybe it's not the worst thing if he helps her. "If you want to, that would be great but don't worry about it, I can do it myself." "No! I'll help!"

Mikasa can't help but think he was a little too excited by the prospect.

She wraps one part of the fabric to cover herself a little bit, holding it in place as Eren turns around. He's all too eager, "Okay what do you need me to do?" "I'm going to hold this piece here, just wrap it, and make it tight, I don't want it to come undone." So that's exactly what Eren does, in intimate silence he wraps the fabric tightly around her breasts, asking every so often if it's too tight, to which she shakes her head. His fingers brush her sides and her nipples harden under the fabric as his hands skim her boobs while he continues to wrap. When he's done they sit in comfortable silence as he uses the clips she gives him to set the wrap. She thinks he'll just leave but to her surprise he looks her in the eye, hands drifting down her sides to fall back to his lap, and making her shiver. "Don't hate them Mikasa. They're really pretty."

He pats her thigh affectionately and tugs at her scarf before he leaves, making her brain explode completely.

#lys's drabbles

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

Text

You're An Idiot

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Draco is being a brat.. Again. No one's surprised when you run into him after getting back late from Hogsmeade. Also, the reader is Hermione's older brother.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI). Just- get the holy water. Swearing, oral, Sassy Hermione?? Still doesn't follow the movies or the books or anything. If I forgot any, please dm me.

Note: Requested! And Bottom Draco-I was up all night typing this. God, I am so sorry for the grammar and crap when I first posted this. I fixed it up, so it should be better!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Being Hermione's older brother meant you usually had to deal with a lot of shit, especially since she'd drag you on adventures with the Golden Trio. She'd always use the promise you made to your parents in your face. Yeah. You had sworn you'd protect the younger Granger when she first started going to the school. At the time, you didn't know that'd mean every single bloody year.

Since you were a year older then the Golden Trio, you ended up resolving problems and fixing some of their mistakes and reminding them to sleep during particularly stressful days. You could've swore the four of you just attracted problems better than magnets attract metal. Of course, you wanted them to be safe and healthy, but one little bleached ferret always made it hard. That ferret, of course, was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

Stupid Draco Malfoy who always managed to look top notch in anything he wore and Godric what you'd do to get that ferret on his knees, ruin his pretty hair and- You probably shouldn't be thinking this in the dinner hall, especially since you were sitting next to your sister. Speaking of your sister, she turned to you, a smile on her face.

"So, (Y/n). I was curious if you wanted to come with us to Hogsmead this weekend? Harry got Sirius to sign for him and Professor Magonagall accepted it under the circumstances." Hermione's voice rang through your skull as she spoke, your head already nodding up and down. It'd be a nice little break, especially during your 7th year.

"Of course I'm down, Mione!" you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to her side. "You know I'll use any excuse to be with my favorite bunch of idiots." you messed up her hair, causing her to smack your hands away and almost shove you off the bench.

You let out a laugh, completely oblivious to the Slytherin staring at you from across the room with the most desperate expression on his face. You shoved your sister back, a smirk growing on your face as she fell from the bench.

"Haha! Payback!"

"Not funny, (Y/n)!"

"Yes it is, Mione! You should know by now I'm always gonna get revenge!" you ran a hand through your hair, shooting her a smile. The two boys who sat across from you nodded in agreement.

"He's right, Herman. (haha, reference-) It is pretty funny." Ron smiled, holding his fist out for you to bop.

The week seemed to pass with ease, allowing the weekend and it's snowy fun to arrive without hesitation. You trudged out in the snow, leading the trio of 6 years to Hogsmead. You hummed a muggle Christmas song deep in your throat as you walked, looking up at the snow covered signs.

"Where should we go first, children? Hogs Head? Honeydukes? What ya kids feeling?" One thing you absolutely ADORED was teasing about the age difference between you and the trio.

"We're not children!" Ron shouted, his arms crossing over his bulky winter jacket.

"Yeah! Besides, even if we weren't totally responsible adults, we'd wanna go to the Hogs Head, right guys? Get a butter bear or two?" Harry spoke up, moving his scarf down to speak properly before putting it back over his mouth and nose.

"Uh Huh. Sure." You snickered, your hands shoved in your pocket of your pants. You'd given Hermione your jumper, leaving you in a scarf, fingerless gloves and your long sleeve t-shirt.

The four of you got interrupted by a line of people literally blocking your path. It was none other than the stupidly pretty Draco and his 'gang' stood in front of you, arms crossed like a bunch of wanna be badasses.

"Well, well, if it isn't Potter and his 3 little blood traitors." Draco spoke, his voice filled with smugness and his face dragged in a cocky smirk.

God, did you wanna get revenge against that stupid smirk.

"Oh, please Malfoy. You do this almost every week. Just admit you have a crush on Harry and move on." You spoke, taking a step toward him. The ferret's smirk faltered and turned into a scowl.

"Oh please. As if I'd stoop low enough to like someone like Potter." Draco all but gagged at the idea of dating the messy haired rival and you wondered what he'd look like gagging on your stick. It suddenly became a little warmer in the winter atmosphere.

"Then you have an unhealthy obsession, mate." Ron spoke up, his arms crossed. "Might wanna get that fixed and leave us be."

"Yeah, Malfoy. We're trying to have a good day and you're ruining it with your ugly mug." Hermione spoke up, causing you to feel nothing but pure pride. She'd changed a lot from the shy girl she used to be in 1st year.

Crabb or Goyle, you didn't care to learn their names, stepped forward, causing you to instinctively step in front of your friends. Malfoy scoffed again, looking you up and down before turning his head.

"Whatever." the blonde pureblood spoke as he began walking away, his posse turning to follow, but not without shooting you one last glare.

"Yeah, you... You better leave?" You spoke, confusion clear in your voice. Usually you'd be inches from his face, shouting about the shit antics his father pulled before he backed down. Turning to the other three, you shrugged and led them to Hogsmead, hoping to escape the cold.

Once inside, you all ordered a warm glass of butterbeer as you picked a table by the fireplace. Taking your first sip immediately warmed you up, a sigh leaving your lips.

"Godric Gryffindor. I haven't felt warmth in what felt like forever." You said cooly, smirking to your sister. "I wonder why I would be oh, so cold."

"Ok. We get it. I forgot my jacket. Stop it." The brunette responded, causing Harry to almost choke on his drink and for Ron to snort. You faked a gasp, your hand going to your chest in mock shame. You'd been teasing her about it almost the entire way there.

"Such sass!" You shook your head. "What would mom and dad say?"

"They'd say you deserve to shove it."

"Oh, come now, sister of mine! Don't be a stick in the mud!"

The two friends sitting across from the Granger siblings sat in silence. This was some of the best entertainment they get during the week and they always savored it.

"I'm not being a stick in the mud, you're just being a dick."

"Well you know what they say. You are what you eat-"

Ron and Harry didn't even miss a beat. They broke out laughing together as Hermione shouted, her face a pinkish color.

"(Y/N)!!"

"What? We all know it's true!"

"Merlin's beard you suck."

"That's the point, sis."

"Go- stop. Please. I'm begging you."

"Ok! Ok." you chuckled out, raising your hands in defeat.

You and the trio managed to keep up the conversation easily, but as time went on, it was time to go back, well, that's what you told them. It was time for the kiddos to go back and finish their homework so they had tomorrow to actually relax. Of course, this caused Harry and Ron to groan and whine, but Hermione finally convinced them, saying she'd help.

You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair, your eyes falling closed. The stupid blonde hottie has been raging in your head for what felt like forever, so you weren't surprised when he popped up behind your eyelids again.

You truly didn't want to admit it, but you'd liked the jerk since he popped up randomly in your second year. He was a twat to your sister and her friends, but somehow he slithered into your heart and head all the stupid time.

Over time like turned to crush, crush turned to yearned, yearned turned to lust, because it certainly wasn't love. That's what you convinced yourself as you tossed your head back, swallowing the last of your fourth butterbeer.

You sat in front of the fire for a few more minutes before you stood up, placed some coins at the end of your table to pay for the drinks and left the restaurant, venturing out into the snow.

It was colder before, thanks to the sun setting over the castle. Shrugging off the cold, you walked down the familiar path back to Hogwarts. You tightened the scarf around your face as a particularly cold breeze blew past you. Once the entrance of the castle came up, you all but jogged to the door, ripping it open. The inside was warmer, thank Merlin.

You were suddenly grateful for the 7 years you'd spent at Hogwarts. You were able to mindlessly walk the halls and make it to the staircase leading up to the Fat Lady's portrait. As you were trudging up the steps, you noticed a A flash of a shadow duck past a knight.

"Oh, ok. Cool. Filch’ll just kill me. Awesome." you grumbled, hurrying up the stairs as quietly as you could, but we're quickly halted. The shadow wasn't Filch or his crazed cat. It was Malfoy.

Of course it was Malfoy. We gotta get to the good stuff somehow, right?

...

Anyway, you sensed he was up to no good considering he should be in the Slytherin Common Room probably sleeping and not sneaking around by the Gryffindor one. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching the blonde keeping his head turned to watch his back as he climbed the same steps you were on.

"Malfoy."

"AAH-"

You all but lunged to cover his mouth with one hand, the other going to the back of his neck to keep him still. "Shut it, you git! Do you want to get caught?" your eyebrows furrowed together as you pressed him to the stairs railing, trying to intimidate the younger male.

What you didn't know was that this was waayy to hot for Malfoy to comprehend. His back went rigid at your touch and his breathing all but stopped as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

"Well, do you?"

Your hushed voice snapped Draco out of his trance, causing him to shake his head.

"Good, then keep your voice down. What are you doing out here anyway?" you spoke, moving your hands away from him, much to his dismay. He was just grateful you didn't back away. He liked your body against his.

"I was uh-well, I was trying to.. Find the bathroom." He usually kept his composure, but he was failing miserably. He usually kept it together so well but now.. Now Draco was struggling. He was not going to admit he was on his way to sneak into the Gryffindor common room and leave you a love note. No. Why would he do that??

"The bathroom? It isn't up this set of stairs, ya idiot." you grabbed his arm, leading him down the stairs. "Besides, you should have a bathroom on your side of the school, so what are you really doing here?"

"What does it matter?" he spat out. "You obviously think you know everything." you rolled your eyes at his brattiness and walked over to the corridor glancing down it before pressing your back against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Shut it Malf-"

"No. I don't ha-"

"I said shut it or I will gag your mouth with your own fucking tie." you covered his mouth again, pressing him back against the wall. "Godric. Just put your ego away for 2 seconds."

Draco desperately wanted to say 'Make me, Granger' but he was lost in the idea of your threat coming true.

Satisfied at his silence, you watched one of the patrolling professors walk down the corridor and right past you two. Not spotting anyone or anything, they continued on before you swept him down the entrance.

"Ok. Come on." You whispered to him as you walked down the corridor. You were taking him to that one girls bathroom that no one goes into, ya know, with Myrtle. You were just hoping she was gonna be literally anywhere but that bathroom.

"Where are we going?"

"You said you wanted a bathroom, idiot. I'm taking you to one where you can piss in peace and leave me alone."

"I.. What?"

"Forget it, Malfoy." You took one more turn and finally saw the opening off the bathroom. "Ok. We're here." Of course Blondie had a problem though. He shot the (h/c) male a glare before scrunching up his nose.

"This is the girls lavatory."

"Oh, you think I care. Funny." you grabbed him by the shirt covering his shoulder and pushed him inside, following after his stumbling form.

"Don't touch me, Granger. I don't want whatever germs mud bloods carry." Draco scoffed, fixing his shirt and brushing off his shoulder, as if dirt was there.

"Call me that again and I won't hesitate to ruin that pretty face you cherish so much." You growled out, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling him toward you. "One day that silver tongue of ours is going to get you in a lot of trouble." Pushing him away from your figure, you turned toward one of the many mirrors lining the wall.

You looked at your reflection and fixed a strand of hair, then took off your scarf. It was warm in this bathroom. You folded the scarf and looked back into the reflective glass to see Malfoy smirking in the background.

"What?"

"You called me pretty." He had his arms crossed over his chest. Your aggravated tone did nothing to his smirk.

".. You're dumb as hell, ya know that?" you turned to face the male and his confidence seemed to shrink a little bit. You advanced toward him and he stepped backwards. He wanted to keep distance between you two in case a fight broke out. He'd seen you fight other people bigger than you and remembered how they were sent to the Hospital wing. "You're a twat. You're a self centered brat who thinks he rules this school."

He gulped when he felt his back press against the wall. "Yeah? And what are you going to do about it Granger?" Draco could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. You must've noticed his face turning Gryffindor red because next thing he knew, you were pressed up against him, pinning him to the wall. He felt his breath catch in his throat when your eyes glanced at his lips for a brief second.

"I might teach you a lesson." Your hands came at either side of his head, a dangerous smirk drawing across your lips. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his. "You have been such a brat lately. A punishment is in order, hmm?"

Draco's hands tried to grip the wall, his nails scraping against it. Fuck, the way your voice dropped sent blood from his cheeks to his dick almost immediately.

With that, you slammed your lips to his, causing a breathy whine to escape Draco's throat. You tilted your head, your tongue grazing across his lips as your hand slipped through his hair. The blonde wrapped his arms around your neck as he opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours. With teeth clashing, your bodies pressed together and a hand in his hair, you easily gained dominance.

You pulled from the kiss, causing Malfoy to let out a protest.

"Shut it, brat." You grumbled, a hand covering his mouth as you planted a kiss to the side of his neck. "Besides, we're out past curfew. Would hate to get caught."

He could feel you smirk against his skin, your hand in his bleached locks tugging his head to the side so you had more room. He jumped a little when he felt you bite down on his neck. The younger man's eyes fell shut as you attacked his neck with love bites and hickeys.

Your hand covering his mouth moved to his cheek as you placed a kiss on a particularly big hickey.

"You ok?" your voice was soft and sweet against his ear. He nodded quickly, not wanting this to end, which only caused you to snicker. Draco blinked a few times in confusion when you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to push him down to his knees.

"I'd rather not kneel on the floor."

"Why not?"

"It's filthy!"

You stared at Draco for a few seconds before rolling your eyes and you shoved him down to his knees.

"I don't care if it's filthy. You have magic, don't you? Clean your knees when we're done. Simple." you smirked down at him, joy filling your heart. God, it genuinely felt good to see the cocky pureblood on his knees, his head turned in a silent protest.

One hand stayed on his shoulder, the other moved itself to the bulge between your legs. The groan that left your lips caught his attention. The hand against your bulge grounded down, causing you to groan.

"Oh, now I've got your attention?"

"Shove it, Granger."

"Now, now. That's no way to talk to me, I am older."

Draco rolled his eyes so hard you were sure they were gonna roll straight out of his head. But since this whole event was anything but straight, you figured it wouldn't happen that easily.

The man on his knees swatted your hand away and wasted zero time unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down around your knees. He stared at the bulge in your galaxy themed boxers, the tips of his ears turning a bright pink. He noticed the damp spot right by the tip and realized it was from him.

Suddenly, his confidence came back, and the blonde quickly began mouthing at your erection. With a rough groan, you rested your hand on top of his head and used the other stabilizing you against the wall.

"Go on, then. Don't be shy." You chuckled, gently ruffling his hair. The 6th year reached up, quickly pulling down your boxers to reveal your hard length.

"I'm not shy." When he finally met your eyes, you noticed his blue ones burning with a lust that you'd only wished to see in your dreams.

"Uh huh, then why aren't you sucking my dick, hmm?" You smirked, pushing your hips forward.

"I might bite it with the attitude you hold." The blonde spoke as he leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip in one, long swipe. You let out a sigh, your head slowly tipping backwards as his tongue grazed over the tip of your wood.

"You love my attitude. I bet you always have."

Draco wanted to mock you or laugh at you or something, but he knew you were right so instead, he sucked on your tip like it was a popsickle. He hallowed his cheeks and kept eye contact with you as he slowly took you into his mouth.

You let out a gasp at how hot it was. Visually and physically, it was so damn hot. Your grip tightened on his hair when his tongue ran along the vein on the bottom.

"Fuck- Ah, Draco-" You tried not to move your hips. After all, you didn't know how much experience he had, but it felt like he was pretty well off.

Draco, however, was focused on the way you said his name. It dragged a moan out of him. This might've been the first time he heard you say his first name and your gravely voice made it so wonderful.

The blonde on his knees suddenly wanted to hear you say it again. He closed his eyes, pulling back to take a breath before he pushed forward. The pureblood focused on trying to take you down his throat. His eyebrows furrowed together when he gagged and chose to ignore his tears.

"Oh shit!" you hissed out, your jaw dropping when you felt his nose press against your pelvis. "Draco, how the hell-?" you bucked forward when you felt him try to swallow around you. "Ooh, Godric!" you tossed your head back, your hand against the wall curling into a fist.

Draco pulled back and slowly went down on you again, a breathy whine leaving your throat.

"You are far too good at this, baby."

All too soon he was pulling off you completely, which causes you to whine and look down at him. He was looking down at his hands that rested in his lap.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" You asked, your head tilting to the side a little bit.

"No!" his head shot up to look at you, his eyes wide. "I mean.. No... No, I've just never been called something so.. Soft."

This caused your eyebrows to furrow together. "Huh. Well, let's change that. Come on." You stepped out of the pants pooled at your feet and held a hand out to him, which he took.

You gently led him over to the sinks, turning him around to face his reflection. "I got you." you whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder.

He nodded his head, looking down at the sink in front of him. The pureblood rested his hands against the porcelain. The 6th year's heart was pounding in his ears, his bottom lip becoming trapped between his teeth.

The blonde felt your hands run from the back of his neck, to his shoulders and down his back before finally landing on his hips. The wizard felt a heat pooling in his belly when he felt your hips press against his ass.

You reached around to his front, undoing his belt and slowly pulling it free from the loops before tossing it off to the side. He finally looked up at the mirror, taking in the reflection of his messy hair, swollen lips and your hands coming back to his front.

"I got you, Draco." Your voice was soft. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything." You smiled at him over his shoulder and winked before popping the button of his trousers open and allowed gravity to pull them down.

Malfoy gasped when you cupped his bulge, his hips automatically pushing forward. He'd been hard since you pinned him against the railing.

"(Y/n).." he whispered out, his mouth falling open when your thumb ran across the head of his cock.

"Yes, babe?" Your smile has turned into a knowing smirk. Blue eyes bounced between your hand and that devious smirk, Draco's brain conflicted on which sight was better. "Do you need something?"

He nodded his head, blonde locks bouncing.

"Please." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Please? Please what?" Your fingers slipped past the elastic of his boxers, a false sense of innocence laced in your voice.

"Move- touch me- damnit, Granger, please."

You finally pushed his boxers down, your hands running along the front of his thighs before finally landing on what he wanted you to focus on. The blonde let out a sigh of your name when your hand finally wrapped around his dick.

A small smile stretched across his face once your hand started moving. The pleasure wasn't new, but was oh so welcomed. He was glad he finally got you.

You gave him a few pumps, allowing his precum to build up on your hand, making everything easier.

"There ya go, baby. So sweet." You whispered, kissing the back of his ear.

Draco brought a pale pink lip between pearly white teeth again, his hips pushing forward to get more.

The hand still resting on his hip came around to the front, gathered a bit of precum off the tip before slinking back around to the back. He used the pre like lube and pushed a finger into Draco's tight hole, causing him to emit a squeal and arch his back a little but.

"Oh, Godric. I'm so excited to wreck you, baby."

"(Y/n)!" he squeaked out as the finger went deeper. He bit his lip harder, the pain slowly dying out and being replaced with a burning pleasure.

You loved hearing your name being moaned like that, just like he enjoyed hearing his when he was suckin' on your lolli. You added a second finger, slowly thrusting them in and out to try and speed this along. You could only jerk someone off for so long anyway.

You licked your lips, a determined expression event on how badly you wanted him. Maybe eating his ass would've been more effective.

"Please hurry, I don't know how much more of this I can take-" his voice was higher in pitch, his hips pushing back against you. "Please-"

"Ok, baby, ok. No need to beg." you chuckled, removing your hands from their working positions. Gently rubbing your hand over one cheek, you spread it open enough to spit in it, just to be safe. "Ready?" your free hand grabbed your own dick pumping it a few times for good measure.

"I wouldn't be asking you to do it if I wasn't, now would I?" the blonde snapped back, glaring over his shoulder. How did he go from so innocent he's almost choking from one finger in him to being a demanding brat all over again?

You rolled your eyes and lined yourself up, carefully and slowly pushing in until you made it past the first ring of muscle. Both of you moaned at the feeling, your hands coming to rest against his hips as his head ducked down, his chin pressed against his chest.

You slowly pushed in deeper, a whine leaving his throat as the twisted pain came back. You reached around to grab his dick again and jerked him off a little bit more to try and counterbalance the pain.

Once you were all the way in, you just let him adjust. You kissed across his still clothed shoulders and neck, whispering encouraging words of praise.

The hand on his hip dragged itself upward, your eyes following it in the mirror. Once it made it to his chest, you cupped one of his pecs through the shirt, feeling his perky nipple pressing against your palm.

Grinding your palm down against his nipple and continuing to rub his dick, you slowly pulled out almost all the way before pushing back in with one sweep.

You literally left him breathless. He was staring at you through the reflection in the mirror, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed over with need, his hair a mess.

You built up a pave easily, deep and hard but slow and Draco loved every second of it. His toes curled in his boots, his back arched into your hands while his hips fought to figure out if they wanted to go forward into your hand or back into your dick. It truly was a conundrum for the twink.

"Such a good boy for me, aren't ya?" You spoke up after a while, your voice gravelly and rough and right in his ear. You let out a breathy laugh when he shuddered and moaned from that alone.

The two of you weren't concerned with the sound of skin hitting skin or your moans echoing around the hallow bathroom. You were busy, I don't blame you.

Soon enough, Draco was begging you to speed up, his release starting to creep it's way around. You nodded your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you spend your hips up, a grunt leaving your lips.

Draco let out a loud whine when your fingers pinched one of his nipples, his hands clawing at the walls as pleasure coursed through his veins.

"I'm gonna cum in you." You groaned against his back. "I'm gonna mark you as mine and you're gonna sit there and enjoy it."

Fuck yeah, he was.

Draco was nowhere near complaining. He'd been fantasizing of this and so much more for years. He, of course, blamed his hormones, but he knew the effect ran deeper than just lust.

Draco nodded his head. "Please-" he moaned out your name, his thighs trembling from the pleasure. He was getting closer and, honestly, so where you.

The pureblood was so warm and hugged you so right in all the right places and Albus mother-fucking Dumbledore where you getting more of this later.

This stupid cute blonde was so intoxicating it almost made you feel pathetic. Keyword is almost.

You sped up, chasing after your own release as it also reared its head around the corner.

"G-gonna cum-" Draco stuttered out, his voice cracking. One hand fell from the wall to the porcelain sink at his waist. "I-I'm.. Gonna-" he called out your name, loud enough for it to probably be heard by the Gryffindors, as he came.

He tightened and spasmed around you, his legs shaking and tiny moans leaving his throat as you helped him ride out his orgasm.

"Are you good?" You asked, rubbing his back and soon letting go of his soft dick when he deemed it was sensitive. "Do you want me to pull out?"

Draco shook his head, his ears noticeably red from behind him. "I want you to keep your promise."

He did not have to tell you twice. You went back to thrusting into him, both hands on his waist as you sought after your own orgasm. A few moans and groans from you later and you were cumming inside him.

You leaned into him, riding it out until his tight, hot ass became too much. You pulled out carefully, causing him to whine and twitch.

"Let's get you cleaned up, ok, Draco?"

The blonde nodded his head and allowed you to carefully and gently clean him up with a wet paper towel. It wasn't the lost romantic thing used to clean partners, but it was what you had.

After a few minutes of silence once you were cleaned and dressed you spoke up.

"So what.. Where are you doing by Gryffindor Tower, Blondie?" your hands ended up in your pockets again.

"Well I.." The pureblood reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out an envelope. "I was going to..."

"Draco, babe. I saw your 'o' face. Just tell me. You shouldn't be embarrassed." You snickered, obviously teasing the younger man.

He took in a deep breath and shoved the letter toward you.

"IwroteyoualetterexplaininghowIfeltaboutyouandhowIwassorryforhowItreatedyoursister-" he was going way too fast for you to understand anything.

"What? I can't.. I don't speak whatever this is."

"I.. Just read the letter!"

With that, you tore open the envelope. It was the love letter Draco was gonna leave by your bedside table.

The letter stated how he fell in love with you from a far over the years by watching you dominate in Quidditch, bringing light into the world with the Twins (let's be honest, imma throw them in this) and just.. Being you. Plus bickering with you was one of his favorite pastimes.

It also stated how he was sorry for treating Hermione so poorly and the citation with his dad and how he was raised.

The Slytherin was nervously wringing his hands together, a nervous expression on his face. "Umm.. Are.. You gonna say something?" his mental fingers were crossed.

You smiled, tilting your head a little bit.

"You're an idiot." You pulled him into a gentle kiss, your hand entangling with his. You casted him a genuine smile. "I like you too, Draco."

The blonde's face broke out in a matching grin and he all but jumped on you to give you another kiss. Once the two of you broke apart, your voice echoed in the bathroom once again.

"There's only one problem."

"What is it?"

"How do we tell Hermione?"

#draco malfoy x male reader #draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #male reader #x male reader #hp imagine #hp x male reader #hermione granger #harry potter #ron weasley #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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ducks-gen-swap · 3 years

Text

Love You Out Loud

This is a special, canon noncomforming version of Louie’s Eleven in the Gen Swap. The beautiful Shelly Duckling belongs to @sophfandoms53, who I wrote this one-shor for as a belated birthday gift! Thank you for everything, Soph, I love you a lot ^-^

The fansong used in the story belongs to @ohgeeeznotagain, go support his channel!

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

As soon as he saw Officer Cabrera closing her notepad with a nod and walking away, Huey didn’t miss a second to approach Shelly again.

“Hey again.” Boy, he hoped his smile didn’t seem as nervous as he felt, especially when she turned to him with a simple smile.

“Hey, again,” Shelly repeated.

“Erh, so, I didn’t really thank you for saving me from Falcon back then so… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest, still with a smile. “Thank you for saving me from Glamour too. Now we’re even.”

Huey chuckled at that, and then they fell into silence, just staring at each other.

From all the possible events and outcomes that the responsible Duck could have imagined from his niece’s crazy scheme, meeting such a pretty woman who seemed to understand him and who had surfed through that night’s craziness like a pro was not among them. It had been so, so long since Huey wanted to ask someone out on a date (it’s been at least ten years since he could even humor the idea), but right now he wondered, if he called her, what Shelly’s answer would be.

“Caham.”

The two adults were snapped out of their trance, instantly turning their heads to face two pairs of little eyes staring up at them. The boy was in a dark-blue stripped suit, and the girl wore a light-blue set of tank top and shorts, with a matching blue scarf to follow. More prominent than anything, however, were the ducklings’ brows arched at the adults.

A memory from what Huey said when they were in the vents quickly clarified the situation to Shelly. Those should be his kids.

Huey gave a nervous laugh, not exactly sure if over Shelly meeting his duo or over the twins meeting her. Probably a mix of both.

“Shelly, these are my nephew, Donald, and my niece, Della,” he started the introductions.

That statement made Shelly blink, surprised. Huey was just those kids’ uncle and yet he had called them his with such a certainty and care…

“Kids, this is-”

“Shelly-Lynn Duckling,” Della spoke before her uncle.

“Emma Glamour’s assistant,” Donald completed.

Huey couldn’t do more than gulp, concerned about Shelly’s reaction over his kids already knowing so much about a person they had never met before, but, to his amazement and relief, the woman’s surprise didn’t last long before she chuckled.

“Looks like you kids did your homework before crashing this party. Very smart of you.”

That compliment was enough to light up Della’s face completely, her previous suspicion all gone as she declared with pride, “Thanks, it was my idea.”

“More like Uncle Louie’s,” Donald grumbled, earning a glare from his sister, but before a fight started between them and Huey had to intervein, Shelly spoke.

“And you,” she said to Donald. “Great job up there, you know how to play.” She referred to his number on stage to distract Falcon. His voice wasn’t the best out there, but he did know how to play a guitar.

It was the boy’s turn to open a giant grin, “Thanks!”

“Ah, there are you guys!” A third infant voice sounded, and Shelly saw two other duckling girls approaching. “Hi, I’m Webby!” the girl who had spoken before was now waving at her, way more friendly than the twins had been at first moment.

“Ah, Shelly, those are Webby Vanderquack and Daisy Sabrewing.”

“Hi,” Daisy waved quickly, before Huey continued.

“They’re not mine, but they also came with us tonight. Or at least Daisy did,” he glared at Webby, and Shelly could say now and then that Huey knew how to give the parent glare. “I didn’t know you would come too, Webby.”

“I have Granny’s permission, I swear!” the girl exclaimed in a pinched voice.

While Huey glared from kid to kid to check if that was true, Shelly couldn’t help but keep her eyes on him. What kind of person crashed a party with four kids under his care at night?? What kind of person looked so proud of his nephew as the boy distracted literal bandits, yet would seem so concerned about one of the kids being out without their parent’s permission??

The same kind of person, it seemed… who would defend someone he had just met against one of the richest women in the world. Who would still look at those kids with so much care, even the ones that weren’t directly his.

‘A very interesting kind of person,’ Shelly couldn’t hold a smile as she thought.

“Hey, Hubert!!” The call reverberated through the whole hall thanks to the amplifiers. All heads turned to the stage, where Huey’s friends from college were all set to start playing. Troy Owliver, the singer and his best friend, waved to him. “Come up here, let’s sing like in the good, ol’ times!”

The duck’s eyes got wide, “What?! Oh no, no way-”

“Aw come on, Uncle Huey.” Della rolled her eyes.

“YOU CAN’T MISS AN OPPORTUNITY LIKE THAT!” Donald shook his uncle by his suit’s sleeve. It was a chance to play with the best band in the world (in the boy’s opinion), how could he say no?!

“You’re going!” Della decided, trying to push her uncle to the stage.

“Okay, okay, alright!” Huey detached himself from the twins. “You win.”

His eyes found Shelly’s one last time, as if saying “I’ll be right back”, before he walked to the stage. There was a wave of applauses as Troy gave Huey a mic, and sooner than later, the band started playing.

Lonely the nights I lived on my dreams

Searching the day for someone who believed

Smiling through every broken bone and bruise

And he can sing too?! Shelly hadn’t noticed her open jaw until one of the kids in front of her spoke, waking the blonde from her trance.

“Donald, do you want to dance?” It was Daisy, stretching a hand to the mentioned boy.

Donald’s cheeks clearly grew a tone of pink, quite matching Daisy’s, to be honest, and ignoring the giggles from his sister and Webby, he took his friend’s hand. Shelly watched as the two of them walked to the middle of the room and started to dance, not holding an internalized “Aww”, before turning back to the stage. More specifically, to Huey.

I wanna run on the rooftop, I'll spell it in the sky

I won't stop til the world knows that you're mine

I don't wanna hold no secrets, only wanna hold you tight

No lies, no doubt

Girl, I wanna Love You Out Loud

“Welp, everything’s well when it ends well,” Webby said, watching the show too.

Della nodded, “Yep. In the end the band really made it on the list, Donald got to dance with Daisy, and even Uncle Huey got to have fun! I really missed him singing.”

Shelly couldn’t blame her. One time hearing that voice and she thought she wouldn’t mind listening to it all night.

No lies, no doubt

Girl, I wanna Love You Out Loud.

#ducktales #gen swap au #huey duck #shelly duckling #huelly #duck twins #donald duck #della duck #daisy sabrewing #Webby Vanderquack #lil donald #lil della #fanfic #scenes #uncle huey

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the-haven-of-fiction · 3 years

Text

Not A Christmas Movie

Genre/Rating: Fluff and Sweetness of the holiday variety, T

Summary: Tom and Astrid find themselves in a unique situation on Christmas Eve.

Author’s Notes: My first sappy romantic Christmas one shot, y’all! Move over, Hallmark! I tried to cover some of the best cheesy themes, I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to Pillow Talk and Lolo for proofing.

The sound of the wind and snow raced through the trees and whipped against the walls of the cabin, the remote mountainous location devoid of any welcoming lights from neighbors. The two travelers dropped their luggage upon crossing the threshold and rushed to push the heavy door shut behind them.

“When we get through this, neither you nor my sisters are ever allowed to make fun of my emergency preparedness again! We’d be in major trouble without it!” Astrid declared, brushing snow off her jacket and holding up the lantern from the referenced emergency preparedness with her other hand as Tom attempted to lock the door.

“I think I can safely and assuredly,” he paused to run his tongue over his perpetually chapped lips in concentration, “give you my word as an Englishman that I shall never,” a grunt of effort, “allow either myself or your sisters to utter a syllable of criticism on that score.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at his struggle with the lock.

“Remember when you had the brilliant idea to build a set for one of our backyard holiday productions? Was that when you played Scrooge? Your word as an Englishman may be good as gold, but your complete lack of skill with anything slightly mechanical is something I wouldn’t swear by.”

Even in the dim light of the lantern, the slight twitch of a smile was visible on his face, the vision of the pathetic attempt so vivid in his memory.

“No one is going to believe this,” she sighed, shivering and looking around for a light switch.

“Truth is stranger than fiction,” Tom quipped. “The best intentions of a Christmas surprise, a series of unfortunate events, a comedy of errors…”

“I blame my soon to be ex-mechanic, the weatherman, Anya and Arlyss and their crazy idea about trying to organize our families into coming out here to the wilderness to have some kind of storybook Christmas,” she huffed, fumbling along the wall, but finding the switch and flipping it to On in relief.

They both groaned when nothing happened. No electricity, no heat.

“They must have disconnected the electricity during renovations, fantastic.” He followed close behind her as they made their way around the cabin. Although the snowstorm was in full force and there weren’t any outside lights on the driveway, they could see evidence of construction as they had pulled up a few minutes earlier.

“Well, at least there’s a fireplace and I think there is actually a pile of wood next to it,” Astrid pointed as she spoke. “How about that. Must have been stocked by the same person who left the door unlocked. Remind me never to hire this company, whoever they are.”

“I could go outside and check for the…uhm…the…” Tom stuttered and gestured, making what she assumed was meant to be a square shape of some kind.

“The breaker box?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly, yes,” he answered in a tone of false bravado, clearing his throat. “I was merely waiting to see if you knew the name.”

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little boys who lie, ya know.” She set the lantern on the mantle next to a small glass dish of matches. “Especially little boys who grew up in a centuries-old estate and have servants who take care of locking the doors and fixing the electrical problems.”

“They are not servants, they are staff, Miss Sassy, and I doubt Father Christmas knows we are here, no one does,” he replied. “Add the one forgotten mobile and the other with no service to the list of things that won’t be believed.”

“Well, anyways, Professor,” she went on in an exaggerated manner, “I may have a First Aid kit in my emergency supplies, but I am not equipped to perform any surgery on wounds you would most certainly incur from trying to play Electrician.”

He knew she was correct and they both smiled, cheeks rosy with cold.

“I suppose it was fortuitous that I ended up teaching Classics rather than embarking upon a career in carpentry.”

Astrid got a fire going and they were able to scope out their surroundings more thoroughly. A last-minute change of plans had allowed the visiting Tom and originally scheduled-to-work Astrid to join their families in the mountains for Christmas, but a quick succession of unforeseen events had brought them here, stranded close to midnight in a semi-livable cabin during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.

The owners must have been undergoing some kind of renovations. The cabin obviously had been inhabited previously, but half the interior wasn’t complete, including the kitchen.

“The toilet flushes!” she shouted from the bathroom. “And there’s running water in the sink!”

“Unfortunately there is no sofa or chairs of any sort and only one bedroom,” he reported when she came back into the main room, “No fireplace, but it does have a bed with linens.”

“Well, my kit has extra batteries so we should be okay with the lantern in there,” she assured him, completely missing his point about the issue of a single bed.

He noticed that her shivering wasn’t decreasing as much as it should, looking her up and down in concern. She was wearing an ankle-length corduroy skirt in a shade that matched her eyes, with a long-sleeved but thin sweater.

“I think we should go through our luggage and put on a couple of more layers. That centuries-old estate was a bit drafty, so I am accustomed to an indoor chill,” he informed her with a tinge of that irritating blend of both humility and privilege.

She rolled her eyes, but went over to her suitcase and started sifting through her clothes.

“You and the twins have always been bossy. It’s a wonder how I have managed to get through life as an adult without the three of you hovering over me like you did when I was a kid.”

He pulled on another shirt and grinned at her.

“I still remember the day you were born. I was visiting Dad and Roberta that year for Christmas,” referring to the alternating schedule their families had of who went to which country for the holidays. “And your sisters and I were old enough to be excited rather than jealous of a new child coming.”

Astrid turned away from him, hoping he wouldn’t see her reaction. Why did it please her so much to hear him speak of her birth with such affection? It must be this ridiculous situation. And the holiday. And her birthday. And this sparkling blue-eyed man whose place in her life she had never been quite able to define. Not a blood relation, but as close as a family member, certainly more than a friend. But more than a friend, in that sense? College and adulthood had made the unanswered question less important, as the shared summers and holidays of their childhood had grown fewer and fewer. She didn’t let herself ponder why he hadn’t married and had a dozen children to help him keep up that manor. Any woman would be elated at the prospect of sharing her life with him; she knew he had a string of casual relationships, just as she had, but their age difference had made her sure years ago that he would be a distant memory by this time.

“Born on Christmas Day to parents named Joseph and Mary, merely the beginning of my life’s trajectory of ‘You won’t believe this!’ events, continuing to this bizarre night that has practically every plot point needed for a cheesy holiday movie except that we aren’t secretly pining for each other.” She zipped up the windbreaker over the thicker sweater before reaching for her parka, not seeing the brief flicker in his eyes.

“Did you know that Arliss wanted to call you Snowflake and Anya’s choice was Mistletoe?” Tom picked up her scarf and hat that he had placed on the hearth so they would be toasty and walked back to her.

“I hear that story every year, along with all the suggestions from everyone to aunts and uncles to the postman. Thank God my parents went with something on theme, but not silly.” She pulled on her boots after a second pair of socks and looked up at him.

His expression changed and he drew in a short breath.

“Do you like your name?”

The inquiry was brimming with something that sounded like hope to her.

“Oh, yes, I’ve always loved it. In fact, I love it as much as I’ve disliked having a birthday on Christmas because it is beautiful and unique and it made me feel beautiful and unique.”

A wave of pure delight lit up his face and something clicked in her mind. Her parents’ version of where her name came from was always that someone had mentioned it to them and they couldn’t remember who it had been.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” Astrid said. And it wasn’t a question. “It was your suggestion.”

He worried at his lower lip, a tic she’d come to know years ago that was a sure indication of him being both pleased and embarrassed.

“Yes,” the soft affirmation punctuated by the crackles and pops from the fire. “And your description is precisely how I thought of it then, thanks to having just started Latin in school, and,” a heartbeat of silence, “it is how I think of you now.”

He was standing directly in front of her and paused to survey her face for a few seconds before tapping lightly under her chin.

Without even thinking about it, it seemed, she looked up at the ceiling so he could wrap the heated scarf around her neck. The warmth felt wonderful, although the feeling caused by this stunning revelation about her name and the look on his face was already warming her up in a way she tried to herself wasn’t happening.

He tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled the hat down while she argued with herself that he was simply being affectionate in the manner of a friend.

“Well,” she said, a little too loudly, stepping back from him, “That down comforter is calling to me, I guess we should be getting to bed.”

Good heavens, the bed, she thought. As in one bed.

As in here, as in they were stuck with a snowstorm swirling around them.

In a cabin that was being renovated. With no power or heat.

On Christmas Eve.

This couldn’t be real, it was not a Christmas movie.

“I suppose we should,” still in that soft voice.

A distraction. She needed a distraction.

“Oh! I just remembered! I have my favorite Christmas movie downloaded on my phone, we can watch it before we go to sleep.”

Less than two hours later, David Niven was giving his sermon and Loretta Young was gazing up at him while Cary Grant walked away in the snow. Tom was propped up a bit against the headboard and had insisted on holding the phone so she could stay under the blankets. Somehow she had ended up almost pasted to his side as the story progressed and his arm was around her. About halfway through, they’d had a little tussle about whether or not he should leave the warm cocoon of the bed and get them another candy cane from her Snack Pack. He argued that they had already brushed their teeth, but a sincere plea from her with an affectionate “Be naughty with me, Professor!” addition was something he simply couldn’t resist.

She sighed and closed her eyes, contented and drowsy and finally no longer cold, too tired and confused to attempt to figure out what was happening, how years of ignoring what was just below the surface had nearly bubbled over. It was impossible. He wasn’t interested. He was just being Tom. Typical Tom. Caring, attentive, making you feel like you were the only person in the room. She wouldn’t think about this anymore right now. Maybe tomorrow. Or not.

Tom closed the app on her phone and noticed the time.

“Hey there, it’s 12:01.”

“Mmhhmm,” she murmured, feeling herself about to drift off. He was so familiar, so comforting, so exactly like Christmas itself should be. She wanted to enjoy this moment before she went back to being the little kid and he the older…the older what?

“Happy Birthday,” he said and dipped his head to kiss her forehead, his breath sweet from the earlier candy cane.

She turned upwards toward him without opening her eyes to give him a peck on the cheek, almost without knowing what she was doing in her sleepy state, but she miscalculated and missed his cheek, her mouth landing on his.

He didn’t jerk back in shock. Or horror.

It’s now or never, she thought, suddenly wide awake and ready to throw caution out the window that was probably frozen shut by now.

Ten seconds later, ten minutes later, she wasn’t sure which, he pulled back breathlessly and she opened her eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked in bewilderment, in surprise, but not in accusation.

“I’m kissing you, do you mind?” she responded, quickly pulling off her mittens and his beanie so she could sink her fingers into his curls.

“I, uhm…”

“Have no fear for your virtue, Thomas,” she teased in a low voice, tugging on a fistful of those ginger locks and causing a sharp gasp from him that thrilled her and gave her courage. “We are wrapped up like a couple of stuffed sausages in this icebox and there is a foot of clothing between us.”

His gaze narrowed and focused on her lips.

Another kiss, sweet and shy, but sure.

“I thought we weren’t secretly pining for each other,” he quoted her words back to her.

“I lied,” Astrid admitted while placing a string of kisses down his nose and nipping the tip.

The gasp changed to a growl, his grip on her upper arms tightening.

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little girls who lie,” using her words against her, again.

She kissed him, again. Longer, lingering.

They were side by side now, the blankets becoming tangled.

“Did you lie?” she whispered, not knowing what to do next if he denied it, but also feeling like she couldn’t let another minute pass without settling the matter.

He propped himself up on an elbow and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t recall either confirming or denying your assertion at the time,” wanting to tease her in return.

“But,” he rushed to continue upon seeing her immediately crestfallen, “I will make it absolutely clear now,” each word followed by a brush of his lips across her jaw and down her neck, “that you,” lifting his head to smile at her, “are the one I desire.”

Tears of happiness welled up and slipped down her cheeks.

“Happy Christmas, my starshine,” he whispered against her lips.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fan fiction #tom hiddleston fanfiction #christmas story #christmas fanfiction #the haven of fiction

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zukoisgayforsokka · 2 years

Text

I posted 3,076 times in 2021

27 posts created (1%)

3049 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 112.9 posts.

I added 12,935 tags in 2021

#atla - 2638 posts

#avatar the last airbender - 2276 posts

#fanart - 1423 posts

#brilliant fanart - 1375 posts

#q - 1254 posts

#zuko - 1169 posts

#sokka - 1161 posts

#zukka - 616 posts

#katara - 581 posts

#no id - 442 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#he’s like ‘oh a cute boy i better project onto my lesbian girlfriend who’s definitely into men and that’s why i feel threatened’

My Top Posts in 2021

Been thinking of Hakoda/Kya/Bato throuple, and reasons Sokka and Katara call them dad/mum/bato respectively. Or:

Why Bato doesn't get a parent name

- They weren't a throuple until the kids were children, by then he was very established as Bato

- He was away working a lot when the kids were young so he didn't feel he had the right to ask for a parent name

- Bato was horrified by the idea of being called dad because he was Too Young And Beautiful and by the time he realised he actually would like to be called dad it was too late

- Bato came out as a trans man when the kids were children. To replace calling him Mum the kids picked the new name, and as a variation of dad they chose Bato. When asked what he was going to name himself when transitioning, Bato replied "The children have already named me"

190 notes • Posted 2021-11-16 21:42:31 GMT

Modern au

After leaving her old family (Ozai) for her new family (Ikem) Ursa changes her name and returns to acting. Only small theatres, low-budget productions, she just loves the craft.

After a few years, when she's getting ready she becomes good friends with one of the new young makeup artists, he's so sweet and charming, and when he says 'youre so beautiful, you remind me of my boyfriend' she just laughs and tells him to enjoy his young love ("I'm 23 Noriko" / "you're like a baby compared to me")

Towards the end of the season, he approaches her with a new job. His boyfriend, friends and sister are opening their own small community theatre in the next city, and would she like to audition for their first show.

His boyfriend is the writer and director, after all. And he'd love for them to meet......

196 notes • Posted 2021-10-01 16:30:05 GMT

I commissioned the brilliant @jasminedragonart (thank you again I love her) to draw my Trans Hijabi Yue. If you read any of my fics on AO3 please imagine the beautiful Yue like this gorgeous art work

[ID: A digital drawing of Yue in a cream hijab with a grey Tui and La motif. Pinned where the scarf meets her parka is a large Water Tribe pin in the trans pride flag colours. She is smiling. /End ID] @atladescribed

235 notes • Posted 2021-09-16 20:02:50 GMT

Autistic Toph Masterpost

It’s a long one folks. The @mightyoctopus and I are both autistic, and the other day we were discussing and concluded that Toph is also autistic. Here’s some canon evidence to prove it.

It has been said before that bending is a metaphor for neurodivergence. An innate, often unconscious extension of the person, connected to emotions.

Toph’s Bending

Toph is the best earthbender in the world, and this didn’t happen by chance. She took to bending incredibly naturally. Here’s how it links to her being autistic.

Special interest - Toph knows everything about earthbending, more than most people as she learned from the badgermoles. She is truly an expert, and it’s her favourite thing to talk about, and the topic she knows the most about.

[ID: Toph at Earth Rumble holding up her Championship Belt, a serious expression on her face. /End ID]

Heightened senses - Many autistic people are more sensitive to sensory inputs than non-autistic people. Toph is incredibly in tune with the world around her, constantly aware of everything through her earthbending. This saves people on multiple occasions: hearing Azula in The Chase, and saving the pregnant lady’s husband in The Serpent’s Pass are two examples

See the full post

674 notes • Posted 2021-09-22 19:27:08 GMT

Dear Avatar fandom

Please can we stop refering to Zuko's eyes as 'good' and 'bad' in fics. What he actually has is a 'seeing eye' and a 'blind eye'. There is nothing inherently bad about a blind eye.

Negative language towards disability is ridiculously common in our ableist society. I know this community is often very good at writing disabled characters, and people mean no ill intent with this language, but please consider the words you use and their connotations.

This is not a call out, nor an attack, and it is not targeted at anyone specifically. I am just someone in the disabled community asking you to please think about why you might consider a blind eye to be bad, especially in a fandom with a canon blind character.

Thank you for listening

2446 notes • Posted 2021-06-19 13:42:57 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post #year in review #going to go through that no id tag and rectify it #honestly I reblogged so many posts on my main #but only made like 5 posts so I'm not sharing that one #tumblr #atla

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orionwhispers · 4 years

Text

Fools Gold // Tommy Shelby

(A/N - ok. i started this imagine in december but then life happened and here we are almost in march. this took a really long time to write and im honestly kind of iffy about it but i hope you guys like it. also side note - tommy is a MASSIVE dick in this and do not let a boy/girl/anyone treat you like this - this is purely fiction and irl if someone uses you like this then they are trash. also second side note im mean to grace in this but I have a lot of feelings ok. LOVE U GUYS)

Thomas Shelby needed a distraction.

His mind was hazy, like looking through a cloud of smoke. He saw Grace everywhere. Sunshine coloured hair reflecting on the grey puddles in the street, sapphire blue eyes watching him from the bluebells sitting on Polly’s desk, her soft laughter in his ears whenever he heard a bell chime. He wanted a distraction. He wanted a quick fix, something soft and warm that would fill the emptiness of his bed and the hole in his heart, but he never imagined just what that would cost.

The first time he saw you was on a Wednesday. The clouds were silver and the air was cold, and London was a welcome change in scenery. He was visiting Ada, in the city for business but wanting to see the kind face of his sister, some softness in his world of sharp. It was late at night, the moon round and full and the library almost empty, and he nodded at his sister in greeting as she filed away the last of the novels.

“Tommy.” She smiled, with rosy cheeks and tousled hair. “Let me just grab my coat and we’ll be off.”

She turned to speak to someone, and Tommy impatiently tapped his clipped fingernails along the edge of a desk, his brain always working, mentally relieving business deals in his head as he waited. He listened to the low hum of the roads outside and the incessant flickering of a street lamp through the window, turning slowly at the sound of footsteps approaching.

His breath hitched in his throat.

Standing beside his sister, all kind eyed and ink stained and sweet as strawberry ice cream was a girl. A girl that for the first time in a long time, made the memories in his brain curl off and vanish like wisps of smoke.

A girl that could be the perfect distraction.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright closing up? I’m sorry to rush off like this.” He didn’t register his sisters voice, his ocean blue eyes trained on you, with your cherry bitten lips and pink polished fingernails.

“Oh Ada, I’m fine. Have a lovely time.” You replied, voice just as honeyed as the rest of you. You gave Tommy a soft smile, wringing your hands together, slightly uncomfortable with the attention you had accidentally drawn to yourself.

He stepped forward without a second thought, his palm outstretched. You blinked back at him, like a deer caught in headlights. Ada had spoken about her brother; how he could sweet talk the devil, and how he was destined to rule the world with his golden mind and silver tongue. You had been intimidated by her words, and standing before him you felt utterly, hopelessly, mortal.

You tried to hide your nerves as you shook his hand, his large fingers engulfing yours and sending sparks down your spine. His blue eyes reminded you of the ocean, like a stormy sea and the smell of salt, and you were worried you might just drown. He wasn’t handsome. He was beautiful.

“My apologies for stealing my sister away.” He said, his voice even and still, warm like a summer breeze. “I’m Tommy.”

“(Y/N).” You replied, trying not to falter under his unwavering stare.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).”

You held his gaze for as long as you could, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks and your neck grow hot. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and that was what unsettled you the most. You had never been in the presence of someone so powerful and striking, and you felt so small next to him.

After a moment you pulled away, biting your lip gently and motioning to the overflowing bookshelves around you. “I should get back, it was nice to meet you. Have a nice night, Ada.” You smiled at your friend, before turning on your heel and walking away, feeling eyes bore into your back.

Tommy watched as you left, entranced by the swish of your skirt and the soft footsteps you took, and-the dizzying length of your tight clad legs. Ada tightened her scarf around her throat, a smirk on her face as she made her way to the door.

“Don’t even think about it Tommy.”

——————————————————-

It was hard for him not to.

That night, as he drove back to Birmingham, he pictured your pretty face, your teeth chewing on those rose coloured lips, the slight tremor in your words as you spoke. In the quiet of his bedroom, the moon watching him from high above, it was usually Grace who disrupted his nightly reflection. But for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t her voice soothing him to sleep.

He knew he wasn’t going to fall in love. Grace might have been on the other side of the Atlantic with a husband that didn’t deserve her, but Tommy was a romantic, and he truly thought that one day they would reunite. Lizzie was a good fuck, but she was temporary. Now she was hired as his secretary he didn’t want to blur the lines of their relationship, and he could already feel her growing too close for comfort. He didn’t need a girlfriend, especially when he knew that no one could compare to Grace, he didn’t need another person to worry about and he certainly didn’t need another broken heart. But what he did need was something to fill the void.

It was easy to find you, even with just your first name. He spoke to one of his informants in London, under the guise of ‘looking for a new assistant’ and the following day he had a stack of papers sitting on his desk.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N). You worked at the library two days a week, and spent the other three training as a nurse. There were no previous addresses or references from past jobs, just your current flat and the hospital where you worked part time. There was nothing personal, no mention of family or relatives nearby, just a slightly faded photograph of you taken before the war. You weren’t looking at the camera, your eyes occupied elsewhere, almost as if you were shying away from the photographer. You looked younger, but just as beautiful and Tommy thumbed the worn print between his fingers; careful not to smudge your face, a fingertip trailing along your lips.

———————————————————-

The flowers came three days after you had met.

You had been at the hospital learning how to properly stitch wounds, and your head was numb from processing so much information. You were exhausted, droplets of rain splattering across your collar and down the back of your blouse, and you were desperate for the warmth of your bed. You toyed with the keys in your pocket, finger running across the ridges so that you could get in as quickly as possible, but you fumbled when you noticed a spark of crimson on your doormat.

It must have cost at least a hundred pounds. Rich, ruby red roses all neatly clipped and arranged, their petals healthy and as soft as butter, and the gold foil writing on the box was of a store on the other side of London, one you had been too intimidated to even step foot in. You assumed that it was for Mrs Kim upstairs, or perhaps a gift from Ron to Mark after they had one of their colossal rows, but as you reached for the label, you felt your brow furrow.

“It really was a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Regards, Tommy Shelby.”

You left them in your kitchen, squashed into the only vase you owned, clipping them practically to the wick to get them all to fit. You ignored them as you ate dinner, the radio nothing but noise in the background. You tried not to think of them as you sank into a scalding hot bath, or as you clambered into bed, and it worked - because what you thought of as you drifted off to sleep wasn’t ruby red roses, but ocean blue eyes.

——————————————————————

Two more bouquets came in two weeks. Both just as lavish and extravagant as the first, and both sitting in the biggest drinking glasses you owned. Your flat smelt like a florists’, and pollen lingered on your clothes all day, a constant reminder of the man who had sent them. You busied yourself with work, letting the day to day distractions of the injured occupy your mind. The hospital had needed an extra pair of hands and you needed experience, but when you finally returned to the library, you cornered Ada as she restocked the shelves.

“Oh (Y/N)!” She smiled, as pure and fresh as new snow. “It’s not been the same without you.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend.”You blurted out, eyes wide.

You had hoped to say something more eloquent, but Ada’s jet black hair and similarity to her brother made you fall pathetically at the last hurdle. Her eyebrows shot up, and you inhaled deeply. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Please tell Tommy, thank you for the flowers, but I’m not really looking for something right now.”

“Tommy sent you flowers?” There was curiosity evident in her voice as she stepped forward, heeled boot clicking against the floor.

“Well, more like three bouquets.”

“Wow.” Her brows almost reached the pendant light dangling from the ceiling.

“I thought you knew - I mean, I thought you gave him my address.”

She shook her head, a small smirk dancing in her face. “Nope. But that’s never stopped Tommy before.”

You exhaled, looking up at her and chewing on the bottom of your lip. “You know that I - I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready, you know, after everything...”

Ada was your closest friend, she had been since she arrived in London. Beautiful and intelligent, with her young son and quick wit - you remembered meeting her on her first day at the library, feeling nervous and intimidated by such a confident and clever woman, but barely a week passed and it felt as though you had known her your entire life. As the months flew by, the two of you would often go for drinks or dinner by the river, staying out till midnight and laughing until your ribs felt tough. She trusted you enough to let you babysit Karl, the little boy calling you his Auntie and making your insides swell with pride. And finally, on a warm summer night, with her cherry red lips and coal black eyeliner, the two of you watching the sun set from the balcony of her expansive house, she opened up to you.

As the sky darkened and you shared champagne and strawberries in the open air, she told you about her family and her past. Her voice was smaller than you had ever heard it, such a powerful woman almost seeming meek as she bore her soul to you. She told you about Freddie, the headstrong and golden hearted man she had fallen for, and you intertwined your fingers when she spoke about his death. She told you about her reasons for arriving in London, cautiously speaking about a gang that roamed the streets back home, you listened intently, eyes wide when she revealed that the main members were of her own blood.

She trusted you inexplicably, telling you things that she had burrowed away for years and that meant the world to you. So under the moonlight, you tipped your head back and emptied your glass, blinking back tears as you explained your own past, the one you had been running from.

Now though, she pressed a kind hand to your shoulder, her eyes softening ever so slightly and it broke you away from your thoughts.“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’ll tell Tommy to keep his cock in his pants.” She winked at you, making you let out the breath that you had been holding, a relieved chuckle escaping from your throat.

She tugged your sleeve gently, motioning to the overflowing pile of dog eared novels by her feet. “Come and help me sort all this out.” She said “And let me fill you in on my date yesterday.”

Ada phoned Tommy as soon as she arrived home. He answered on the third ring, his voice tired and thick with smoke, his exhaustion evident through the speaker. One mention of you however, and he perked up like he had downed three shots of espresso. Work had been fucking awful, and imaging you and those rosebud lips was a pleasant distraction from the ache in his skull.

Ada told him to back off, and he could practically feel his sisters stern expression despite being 100 miles away from her. “She’s too nice for you Tommy, and not interested. Besides aren’t there enough girls in Birmingham? Why do you have to come after the one I’ve actually made friends with?”

Tommy had rolled his eyes. He loved his sister, but he didn’t feel like explaining his reasoning to her. He knew that she would never approve, never really understand him.

“You know I want you to find someone, especially after...” She inhaled sharply, choosing her words carefully. “Look, Tommy, you’ll find someone, but just not (Y/N), yeah? She’s been through a lot.”

He hummed, not voicing his real thoughts, always liking to keep his cards close to his chest. He said his goodbyes and hung up, Ada’s words lingering in his brain. His spine had stiffened at the implication of Grace, he hated being reminded of the past, especially memories he was trying so hard to forget. But it wasn’t just that, there was something about the words she had chosen that had sparked a fire in his gut.

“She’s been through a lot.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she was insinuating, but to him, it made you all the more alluring. He would never pursue a woman who truly wanted nothing to do with him. He might not have been the textbook definition of a ‘good man’ but he respected those who turned him down - although it was very much a rarity. But there was something about you, something about the way that you had held his stare, the innocence in your eyes and the attractiveness that hung around you like sugar water.

He loved the chase, especially when the reward was as sweet as you.

—————————————————————-

He waited outside your flat, hands in his pockets and peaked cap low on his head. It was almost six and he knew that you would be returning from the hospital soon, so he crossed his legs, leaning on the doorframe with a cigarette between his lips, secondhand smoke curling in the air.

He heard you before he saw you; the hiss of the cold air as you fought with the heavy door, the clunk of your patent loafers across the concrete and the jangle of your keys in your palm. He smiled to himself. Watching as you walked up the stairs, rifling through papers in your hands and then looking up suddenly, your eyes widening with shock.

“Tommy.” You said, filled with genuine surprise, clutching your handbag tightly, sure that you would drop it otherwise.

He liked the way his name sounded on your tongue.

He reached forward, steadying your wobbling hands and collecting the papers before they could scatter down the hallway. You stiffened at the contact, but he held you secure.

“Is Ada alright?” You asked quickly, hoping his impromptu visit didn’t come with bad news. He looked down and felt his stomach twist at the sight of your long lashes and shining wide eyes.

He shook his head. “My sisters fine. I actually came here for you.”

“Me?”

“Ada rang me, and I wanted to apologise for being so forward. It wasn’t my intention.”

You straightened, pulling slightly away from his hands. “You could have called, or written a letter.” The words came out slightly sharper than you had hoped, but you felt bristled by his sudden appearance.

He smiled. A half tug that looked boyish and cheeky, almost a smirk, and you hated the way that it made your heart flutter. “Well, yes, but that would have meant not seeing you in person.”

You fought back your own embarrassed grin, feeling blush rise from your throat to the plump of your cheeks. A flicker of humour sparked in his eyes, feeling triumphant at getting even the smallest of responses from you. The heat around your collar was turning such a delicious shade of red, like a honeycrisp apple, and it was hard for him to look away.

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You shifted on one foot, trying not to look into his milky blue eyes, knowing that if you did he would have you hook, line and sinker. “Tommy... I don’t know.”

“Just one dinner and I’ll be out of your hair.”

You exhaled, feeling yourself starting to cave. “Okay. One dinner. And nowhere fancy.”

Five minutes later and you were out the door. You had slipped off your work uniform and stepped into a lavender beaded dress and a pair of modest kitten heels. You hated the way you double checked your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out the stray hairs by your forehead, placing a cool hand to your chest to try and level your breathing. You didn’t put on any makeup, you weren’t trying to give Tommy the wrong idea.

You reminded yourself that you were just going to dinner, as friends. Nothing more.

Tommy watched you under the shimmering lights of the club. The rhythmic clash of the jazz band echoed all around him, beautiful women laughed and swayed on the dance floor, and the air was thick with smoke and bitter whisky, but his attention was solely cast at you.

Your head was down, and you were picking at the food on your plate. The expensive bottle of red wine sat opened in the middle of you both, your glass untouched and his filled halfway.The owner had recognised him immediately and sent over the gift, and he didn’t miss the caution that flashed on your face at the gesture.

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” He asked, voice smooth like silk.

You looked up at him. “No, thank you though. I have an early shift in the morning.”

He nodded, cutting through his steak, a sliver of blood on his knife. “How long have you been a nurse?”

He already knew, but he wanted to hear your answer.

“Well, I’m technically not a nurse - not yet. I’m still training, but I only have a few months to go.” You smiled, and he watched as your whole face lit up as you talked about your passion. “I’ve always wanted to do it. Now I finally am.”

“Well, I think that’s very admirable.”

“And what do you do?”

“Oh. I’m a bad man.” He said, as if it was the most causal thing in the world. His cobalt eyes flickered from his plate to you, holding you hostage in his gaze.“But I’m sure Ada’s told you all about that.”

You inhaled. “I try not to judge people based on rumours.”

“Even if they hold some truth in them?”

You didn’t say anything. You swirled around the spaghetti on your plate, spearing your fork through a pea. After a moment you cleared your throat, daring to look up at him.

“I think the world has changed. Times have moved on, and sometimes it requires a firmer hand to get where you want to be.”

Tommy paused, genuinely taken aback by your reply. You had been so timid and placid before, but now there was an intensity to your words, one that he found particularly alluring.

“It doesn’t mean that I agree, but - ” You sighed. “A few years ago, I was turned down by a nursing school; they said I was too young and too inexperienced and... it really shattered my confidence. I was going to give up completely, but instead I decided to keep studying, and I was working three jobs to just make ends meet. When I applied again I made sure that there was no way they would reject me.”

Your eyes flickered up momentarily as you chewed on your upper lip. “All I’m saying is, sometimes you have to work hard to get what you want.”

Tommy mulled over your words, tongue running over his teeth. He picked up the stem of his wine glass and held it towards you in a toast. His eyes caught yours and his stare was unwavering, the edge of his lips unturned in a boyish smirk.

“To getting what we want.”

———————————————————-

You really, truly, honestly, didn’t want to enjoy your dinner with Tommy - but you did. The night was so easy, after a while you managed to find a comfortable niche and the conversation flowed like running water. As time passed you found yourself giving into habits that you thought you had left behind, like tucking a loose curl behind your ear, or giggling into your hands, a warm shade of pink staining your skin. Tommy watched you, the anchor on his chest lifting slightly, the way it always did when he found himself getting his way.

He walked you home with his suit jacket draped over your shoulders; despite your protests, leaving you smelling like whisky sours and cigarettes. He could feel your apprehension as you stood under the archway of your apartment building. The wind had picked up and rain was drizzling onto the both of you, and his stomach tightened when you looked up at him with raindrops coating your eyelashes. He was waiting for you to speak first. If he had his way, he would be joining you in your flat, pressing you up against the wall and kissing your lips until they were swollen. He wanted to untangle the braid in your hair, unlace the dress that made you look ethereal and feel you breathless under him, but he remained patient.

The truth was that even though you had only spent one evening alone, the constant buzz of work and life in his brain had faded into static. (There was only one woman who had ever made it fully fade, but now he knew now to take whatever he could get). He had genuinely enjoyed the night, even without the guarantee of ending it in your bed. It was pleasant to spend a few hours talking about something other than business deals or brutality, to fill silences with stories about films you had seen or your misbehaving patients.

He would be satisfied with a goodnight kiss, to taste the sweetness of your lips and feel the curve of your waist under his palm. He liked the way that the nerves you had started the night with were flittering under your skin once again; it made him feel good, it made him feel wanted, it made him feel powerful. It would be enough to sate him over until the next time you met up - because believe him, there would be a next time - but even he couldn’t stop the flare of surprise that splashed over his face when you simply handed him back his jacket and darted up the stairs.

“Thank you for dinner, Tommy. Have a good night.”

Underneath the broken bulb in your hallway, with his expensive patent shoes slowly filling with water, he let out a loud, genuine, chuckle.

—————————————

A few days passed, and whilst your evening with Tommy still lingered in your mind, work was much too hectic for you to be wrapped up in distractions. There were no more surprise bouquets or unannounced visits, and no phone calls at the end of your shifts either, you knew you should have been relieved, but you couldn’t ignore the tiny flicker of disappointment. You decided to tell Ada, mentioning your dinner casually the next time that you saw her, dropping it into conversation as though it wasn’t a monumental piece of gossip.

“You did what?” Her voice echoed around the expansive library and you playfully shushed her, pointing to the people reading on the floor below.

“It’s not that big of a deal!”

“Psh! Easy for you to say!” She huffed, elbowing you in the ribs as she meticulously rearranged the books on the shelf in front of her. “I thought you were... you know...” She waved her hand like she was wafting smoke from her face, a clear indication of what she thought you were going to do to her brother.

You sighed, wiping the dust from a hardcover. “I know, I know. But he’s... charming.”

“Yeah, like a fox.”

You laughed at her blunt tone. She turned away and continued working, her shoulders shrugging with her movements. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I will, mum.” You tugged on the bottom of her hair like a child, making her meet your line of sight. “Honestly, Ada, it was a nice night, but it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere. I have no plans to see him again - ever.”

Your intentions were shattered as you left the hospital one evening, stopping dead in your tracks when you recognised the distinct peaked cap and felt the unmistakable domineering aura all around you. You tried to bite back the smile threatening to take over your entire face when you saw him leaning against a red brick wall, tall and cool, the kind of man that would have a million songs made about him.

You couldn’t deny the twist in your gut when he smiled at you, so cheeky yet smooth like rich dark chocolate. You felt the envious glances of the other nurses leaving their shifts around you, bubbling with jealousy and curiosity. You didn’t even care that you would be the main topic of discussion at the next tea break on Monday, as much as you hated to admit it, you felt like the world around you was blurring, leaving nothing but the two of you.

“Is this a social call, Tommy? Or should I get the first aid kit.” You called out under the noise of the streets around you, your voice deceivingly controlled.

He flipped his leather notebook closed, one you hadn’t even noticed he was so engrossed in, sliding it into his pocket and uncrossing his legs, his eyes shining with humour.

“No, not tonight. Although I’ll know where to come if I ever need it.”

You came to a stop just before him, not trusting yourself to get too close.“What can I do for you, Thomas?”

He didn't comment on the space you had left between you, but you knew that he had noticed it. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his wallet, nimble fingers rifling through until he pulled out two stubs of paper.

“I have tickets for the play tonight.”

You felt your eyes widen as he showed you the passes. You had made an offhand comment at dinner about wanting to see this particular play, one that you didn’t think he had even noticed, but he was obviously more observant than you had given him credit for.

“Wow. That’s great.” You smiled, “Well, I hope you have a lovely night.” You winked at him, turning on your heel but he grabbed the edge of your sleeve, pulling you back towards him.

“I think it’ll be a little rude of me if I show up alone, and besides, a lot of these things tend to go over my head, I think I might need somebody to help me understand everything.”

You wanted to resist. You wanted to tell him no. You wanted to be strong and admit that the fortress you had built around yourself wasn’t ready to start crumbling down, not just yet.

But you couldn’t.

You knew that this could all be a mistake. Letting people in wasn’t something you were used to, especially not someone as charming and handsome as Tommy. But you found yourself liking him, as though he had some kind of magnetic hold over you, pulling you closer even when you wanted to run.

“Tommy I - It’s kind of you, but I don’t think it’ll be wise.”

“Please.” He said, and hearing such a vulnerable word coming from his mouth made your throat constrict. “I know that I’m being forward and feel free to tell me to piss off, but honestly, I had such a wonderful dinner with you and I would love to take you out again. And besides, you’re my only friend here in London.”

“What about your sister?”

“Oh we’re really not that close.” He teased.

You laughed, chewing on your lip so harshly you thought you might draw blood. Despite the protests in your brain you reached out and took a ticket, looking up at him with those big eyes that made his toes curl.

“Fine.”

The theatre was beautiful. It was wide and open, with red velvet seats and high ceilings. It was the prefect escape, laughing and gasping with the audience as the actors fought and danced on stage, magnificent hand painted back drops making you feel like you were no longer in London. You ate truffle coated popcorn and drank glasses of champagne, all sent over by the ushers that recognised Tommy instantly, practically bowing to him when you both arrived.

But Tommy truly couldn’t care less for whatever was happening in front of you both, because he was completely captivated by you. He liked when you tipped your head back when you laughed, he liked the way your eyes lit up and followed the characters on stage, as though you were in a trance. He followed the curve of your nose and the pout of your lip under the cream coloured lights, unable to fight back the smile when you noticed him, blush rising up your neck like a tidal wave.

He walked you home that night, just like he had before, his jacket slung over your shoulders and his hand ghosting against yours. You seemed more open, your anecdotes a little more personal and your laugh a little louder, and he really felt like he might be getting somewhere. He liked making you giggle and the way you tucked into his side when a car raced by a little too fast, and he wasn’t even disappointed when you simply handed back his coat at the end of the night, a ghost of a smile on your lips - if anything it made him want you more.

The morning after the play, with eyes blurred from sleep and a migraine brewing behind your eyes, you found a still warm lemon loaf and a container of expensive coffee on your doorstep. You smiled as you tied your hair up messily with a powder pink ribbon you had around your wrist, placing the coffee inside by the kettle and half of the sickly sweet treat in your handbag, knowing you would need it to soften up Ada when you inevitably told her about the evening you had shared.

She had rolled her eyes and scolded you; reminding you to be cautious. And you wanted to be, really, but there was something about him that made you ignore the warning signs hammering in your chest, and before you knew it you were back under his arm when he next showed up on your doorstep.

He took you to a horse show on the other side of London, telling you that he needed another pair of eyes and a consultant for helping him choose a new mare. You had told him you knew nothing about horses, and yet he persisted, pulling you in with that damned smile and those ocean blue eyes. You had managed to get one over on him though, meeting him at his car the next day, dressed in a blood red gown that made his breath get caught in his throat. You looked beautiful, ethereal even, with your curled hair and shy eyes. And that colour red, the colour of sin against such a gentle soul made the fire in the pit of his belly reignite whenever he looked at you, but worst of all, was the way that colour reminded him of her.

He didn’t want to be wallowing in the past. So he allowed himself to get sucked into you, allowed the smell of your perfume and the sound of your voice and the warmth of your body distract himself from the blonde beauty that was clawing back into his mind.

He was waiting for you in his matte black car on his last night in London, and you tried to ignore the thump of your heart when you realised that he wanted to spend his final day in the city with you. He drove to Hyde Park, the sun was high and the sky was the cloudless, a long stretch of blue that seemed to go on forever. You walked across the grass, keeping your hands laced together so you wouldn’t risk brushing your fingertips against his, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hide the goosebumps that would rise on your skin.You watched him smoke, inhaling and exhaling smoothly, blowing out nicotine like it was water, and he smiled when he caught your eye.

“Why did you bring me here today?” You asked finally, when the two of you came to a stop by the edge of the pond, watching the ducks and swans swim between the reeds.

“I like appreciating beautiful things.” He said, tilting his head so he was looking you in the eye.

You sighed, watching the sun reflect diamonds from the water. “I don’t understand you, Tommy, and that makes me nervous.” He didn’t know what to say, and so he let you continue. “How much has Ada told you about me?”

“Nothing. She’s a good friend.”

“She’s my best friend.” You murmured, and he watched the way your eyes glossed over, like you were replaying a million memories in your head. “You know, she told me to stay away from you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t know why you’re pursuing me.” Your voice was small, like the ripples that lapped over the top of the pond.

The truth is he didn't either. He knew it was wrong, using you as a way to get over Grace, but he’s never been known for having the most ethical methods. Doesn’t he deserve this? For everything he does, for the money he makes and the lives he’s built for his family, doesn’t he deserve something kind and pretty and gentle? Doesn’t he deserve a distraction from all the noise?

You reached into your handbag, rummaging around through the loose lipsticks and many receipts that you’ve shoved inside. He peered as you pulled out a small coin purse, rose coloured and no bigger than your palm. You unclasped the two little pearls at the top, and he noticed your fingers shaking ever so slightly, like a leaf in the wind.

You pulled out a picture and handed it to him, dog eared and greying but unmistakably you, laughing into the cheek of a young man, his arms slung over your shoulder. Tommy looked over at you, but you were watching the water, jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“Who is he?”

“Steven.” You cleared the lump residing in your throat, the one that always surfaced when you spoke about him. “We lived next door to each other, he was my first kiss, my first love, my first - everything.”

Tommy felt a pang in his gut like a sucker punch, he could hear the hurt in your words, he knows it too well, because it’s the same that echoes around his skull whenever he thinks about Grace.

You continued, “We were together since primary school, and all through secondary. I really thought we were going to be with each other forever.” You sniffled, and Tommy knows what you’ll say before you’ve even formed the words, because he’d been through the horrors himself. “He was a few years older than me though, and then he... and then he got drafted.”

“He was never made for the war. No one is, not really, but he was special. He was so kind and gentle and funny, and it wasn’t fair. We got married the day before he was sailing to France. I wore my mothers dress, it was too big and a few buttons were broken, but it was perfect. We were just kids in love.”

The silence that followed told Tommy everything he needed to know, and his gut felt heavy, like it was filled with lead. He wanted to reach out and touch you, the sadness radiating off of you like perfume, but he kept his hands to himself.

“How did it happen?” Tommy asked after a moment, knowing that you might not be able to bring up the subject unless he did.

“Second battle of Somme. Front line. They said he took the bullet instead of his comrade, jumped in the way to save him. They said he died quickly, that he wasn’t in much pain.”

“He died a hero.”

“He shouldn’t have died at all.”

Tommy agreed with that.

“The war took too many good men.” His voice was growing as sullen as his eyes, thinking back to a time that always sucked the life from him, his mind growing hazy with thoughts of the trenches and mud on his feet, sticky blood staining his hands.

“And destroyed those left behind.”

He inched closer to you. He was so tall and stoic, eyes focused on the water in front of you yet you felt completely seen, something about him making you feel content. Above you, the clouds were darkening, a chill whipping around you both. He brushed his shoulder against yours, the fabric making you shiver slightly, and he grabbed your wrist gently, intertwining your fingers with his, making the first move because he knew you couldn’t.

“Come on,” He said, voice raspy and thick like billowing smoke. “We don’t want to get stuck in the storm.”

The rain was torrential. It was almost comical how quickly the clouds gathered and darkened, spitting droplets from above that trickled down and splattered the both of you. You giggled as you ran to the car, Tommy holding his jacket above the two of you, your heels splashing through puddles. It felt like a weight had lifted from your chest, when you opened the car door and bolted inside, breathless and wild. It had always been hard to talk about Steven, the words getting stuck in your throat like thick honey, but the relief of having it out in the open was enormous. You didn’t realise just how much of the past you were holding onto.

Raindrops were scattered along Tommy’s fine leather seats, the bottom of your dress painted with a faint layer of mud. His windshield wipers squealed as the cleared away the water, the car thick with tension and heat rising from your damp bodies. It was late by the time you made it back to the centre of the city, the rain still cascading down loudly onto the pavement around you. You could hear your blood rushing to your ears, the kind of constant hum that made you feel as though you were being held underwater.

Your whole body was bubbling with apprehension, you could feel Tommy moving behind you, the edge of his jacket brushing against your arm. You couldn’t find your keys inside your handbag, struggling from adrenaline and the icy chill of the air. Wet hair clung to your forehead, and you were certain your mascara was halfway down your cheeks, and you turned to Tommy to apologise for your clumsiness, but he was already gazing at you.

You were looking up at him, so innocent and so gentle and so beautiful under the soft glow of the navy sky and the twinkling stars and all he really wanted was to kiss you senseless - so he did.

He tasted like sweet mint and nicotine, and you tasted like woodsmoke and wisteria. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, it wasn’t like stealing kisses in the alley when you were sixteen, or clumsy kisses in the bed you shared with Steven, this was intense and passionate and all consuming. Tommy allowed you to devour him, the smell of you overpowering his senses and he buried his soft aching hands in your messy hair.

His body was pressed against you, thick and hard against the velvet of your figure. You pulled away slowly, lips puffy and swollen and baby pink. You were blushing, red hot from nerves and exhilaration and you laughed sweetly against the crook of his neck, eyelashes fluttering against his flesh.

“Do you want to come inside?”

His fingertips were the paint coated brushes and your body was the perfect canvas. You reacted to his touch like it was everything you craved. Your kisses were open mouthed and messy, and he had to bite his tongue to stop the cascade of groans threatening to spill from his lips. Your pulses were synced, the low light of your bedroom made you look like a creature from a fairytale, and he touched you like you were made from glass. His hands were soft yet rough, you let him run his fingers through his hair and then leave bruises on your hip bones. He shuddered into your neck, sweat dripping onto your skin, whines leaving your mouth that he wanted to drill into his brain and remember for the rest of his life.

He was breathless. He closed his eyes as he laid down next to you, the sky outside black like coal. You had been perfect. He couldn’t hear the shovels. The usual constant battle in his brain was replaced by the salty memory of your skin, your hot breath against his ear, your legs tangling with his. He felt you next to him, curling into him slightly, your body still recovering and your toes twitching.

The bedroom was quiet, nothing but the creak of the wind against the window and the occasional pattern of rain against the glass. He felt his ears twitch when you opened your mouth, muffled and sleepy, a pang of sadness in your voice.

“Please don’t break my heart.”

He pretended to be asleep.

————————————————————-

He was gone when you woke up. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting, but cracking your eyes open to the lazy sunrise and the emptiness of your bed was as painful as a bullet in your spine. You felt embarrassed, looking down at the marks of your skin as you scrubbed away the night in the bath, running a warm flannel over your skin so many times that your flesh turned red. You felt ashamed; ashamed that you hadn’t listened to your best friend and ashamed that you had put your trust in someone that you knew would hurt you.

But deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t deny that you still liked him, still wished that he was with you. You knew it was wrong but you forgave him. You knew he had to leave early; perhaps he hadn’t slipped out the way you had thought, perhaps he had truly wanted to stay. You felt foolish and young and weak, but you missed the feeling of his lips and his skin, the weight of his hips against yours.

Two full weeks passed by until he showed up again. There were no calls, no surprise bouquets or impromptu visits, just the lingering feeling of shame on your body. You didn’t say anything to Ada, too mortified to admit that you had slept with her brother and he had run out before you had woken up. You knew that he was the one in the wrong, he was the one who deserved to feel like shit for treating you that way, but that didn’t stop the pounding of your own insecurities.

Rich raspberry wine and candied cherries, these were the remedy for a broken heart. You were sitting cross legged on the sofa, the radio crackling behind you, soft jazz lulling you into a relaxed daze. You were sewing the hem of one of your dresses, threading the needle and watching the stitches close. You had already downed two glasses of wine, loving the taste and the burn in your belly, and you groaned when you heard two sharp raps on the front door.

“Ron, did you forget your keys again?” You huffed, expecting to see your forgetful neighbour waiting for you, but almost catching your fingers in the door when you realised who it was instead.

“Hi.”

Piercing blue eyes and a jawline that could slice your palm, two things that you simultaneously adored and loathed. His hand curled around the door as you tried to slam it shut, pushing against you so it couldn’t be closed.

“Fuck off.”

“Please. Please. (Y/N).”

“No Tommy - Thomas. Fuck!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t give a shit.” You lied.

“Please just let me explain.” He said and you huffed, trying your hardest to not look at him for too long, it was like looking directly into the sun: painful and disappointing.

“I - No.”

“Please.”

Fuck him and that fucking voice.

You opened the door a crack, enough for him to slip through and into your flat. He looked so dark amongst the bright colours of your crockery and the yellow tulips planted on your windowsill. You moved backwards, trying to make yourself as small as possible, ignoring the ache growing inside of you, the ache to run into his arms and forgive him.

“I’m sorry for the way I left.” He scratched his forehead and cleared his throat, the sound echoing around the room. “There’s no excuse.”

“You made me look like a twat, Tommy.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.” You said, but you weren’t sure if you meant it, liking the vulnerability in his words, the tenderness of his voice soothing you despite your inner anger.

He lifted his palm to run through his hair, jet black coat cloaking over him like a shadow. You saw it then, under the light of the blue moon, a gash tearing through the skin on his wrist.

“You’re bleeding.” You stated, and you saw his eyes widen slightly, looking at the wound on his arm as if he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Huh.”

“God, Tommy.” You inhaled, sucking air through your teeth, “Let me clean it, it looks like it needs stitches.” You hated yourself for giving in, knowing that the cut wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was going to be leaving your flat in a stretcher, but you still cared for him, despite everything.

The smell of antiseptic wipes and the tangy metallic taste of blood filled your bathroom. You pressed on him a little too hard, smiling as he winced slightly. Neither of you spoke, letting the silence hang between the both of you, almost tangible. You could feel his eyes on you, those fucking sparkling eyes following the curve of your nose and the wave of your hair, lingering a little too long on your lips.

“I really am sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You bit through the gauze, measuring it against his skin, anything to not meet his line of sight.

“I have a habit of ruining good things.”

You scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that line?”

“I thought you might hit me if apologised again.”

Against your better judgment, you laughed. “Yeah, I might have.”

His palm, warm and heavy and reminding you of the pressure of his body on top of yours, clasped over your own, making you still.

“Have I fucked everything up?” He asked. You didn’t say anything, not trusting your own voice. You felt the roughness of his fingertips circling your skin, languid like waves lapping across the shore. He inched closer towards you, smelling like fresh crisp apples and old cigarette butts, managing to always be the perfect mix of chaos and control. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You should have pushed him away, but you didn’t. You gave into the darkness of his blue eyes, the ring of lust forming around his pupils and the desire stirring in your belly like bubbling water. He tasted so sinful yet sweet and you were the perfect remedy for the terrible day he had, so receptive and angelic under his touch.

“If you rip your stitches, you’ll have to redo them yourself.”

He laughed into the soft, buttery flesh below your jugular, kissing your collarbones as his hands dragged you impossibly closer, lips crashing onto yours.

You fell asleep first. Hair cascading on your silk pillowcase, and he connected the freckles on your back like they were constellations. He could hear the gentle drip of the tap in the bathroom, and

the hum of the city around you. The noise in his head had stopped, but it still remained like a dull static in the back of his mind. He pushed it away though, focusing on the calming energy of your body and the tenderness of your touch.

He would be gone tomorrow.

He’ll let you wake up to him, he’ll drink the coffee in your kitchen and fuck you under the golden sunlight, open mouthed kisses shared in the confines of your apartment. But then he’ll leave again, giving you just enough to allow him to come back. He craved you, but it was medicinal, like a hit of opium when the shovels got too loud, not something he could afford to indulge in.

He looked over at you, fast asleep, your nose twitching slightly. He can’t give you what you want or what you deserve, but just for the night, in the quiet of your bedroom, with his hands on the curve of your hips, he’ll be the man that you want him to be.

—————————————————————-

His visits were sporadic and unpredictable. He would show up out of the blue, lurking around the back streets like a nomad, knocking on your door just before midnight, his hands covered in blood. On those nights you would clean him up, neither of you would speak as you washed away the crimson from his skin, rubbing ointment on the growing purple bruises on his knuckles. He would kiss you feverishly and wildly, desperate to feel your body so soft and pliant under his. Those nights he craved control, and you were the only person who would give it completely to him.

Sometimes he would show during the day, with a wide smile and an expensive suit, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He would take you to dinner or for walks down the canal, you might sit curled in his lap at the pictures or perhaps drive to a new city, his hand in yours, allowing you to pretend that you weren’t just the girl he came to when he wanted to feel something.

He would take you gently, almost romantically. In the back of his car or at a hotel that cost more for one night than your months rent, moulding your body under his like clay. He’d make you moan for him, the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, and he’ll relish in the attention you’ll give him. You’ll be the one thing that calms him after a hard days work, it’ll be your body and touch that unclench his fists and help calm his mind. He uses you like snow, strong, hard hits that leave him gasping for breath.

He’d always be gone before the sunrises. He’d wait for you to be asleep, hair around your head like a halo, lips puffy and swollen from clashing with his, fingertip shaped bruises across your hips. He’d never stay long enough to hear the disappointment in your voice, see the gloss that coats your eyes, the hurt pounding in your chest.

It stings like alcohol on a wound even when you’re expecting it. When you wake up and your bed is cold and empty, and your body is missing the warmth of his. You’ll give yourself a few moments to cry, take a scalding hot bath and scrub his smell from your flesh, tell yourself over and over that this is the last time. Never again. But you know as you make your way home, with a clouded head and aching legs, that the next time he shows up, you’ll let him stay.

———————————————————-

It had been almost a month.

A month of complete silence. You felt stupid but not surprised, the sadness nothing more than a dull pain in your chest now. You felt like you were just existing, not living. Constantly waiting for him to show up at your door and make your world start spinning again. You tried to distract yourself with work, but hearing the ladies gossip in the cafeteria about their loving boyfriends and amazing dates made the hole in your heart throb.

You hadn’t told Ada what had been going on, but she was your best friend, and you were certain she had already sussed it. You’d been skipping shifts at the library, spending more of your time cooped up in your flat or the hospital, opting for overnight shifts, anything to distract you from the loneliness of your bed.

Your cupboards were bare, cups of tea gone cold dotted all over your flat, and cobwebs starting to appear in the corners of your walls. You needed to go to the grocer and buy something that wasn’t bread or wine or chocolate. You were rooting through your purse, hands smelling like copper when you heard the shrill ring of your doorbell. Your heart stopped, but you didn’t get your hopes up; you were done waiting around for him like a bloody border collie.

You could see her silhouette behind the door, raven coloured ringlets and red lipstick. You sighed, running your fingers over the creases in your jumper before you opened the door, expensive french perfume wafting into your flat.

“You’re avoiding me.” She said sharply, waltzing inside, thick fur jacket brushing past you.

“No I’m not, Ada.”

“Yes you bloody are!”

You watched as she rummaged through your cupboards, pulling out two glasses and then flopping down on your sofa and patting the seat next to her. She grabbed a bottle of vodka from inside her handbag, almost bigger than your head, and she started to pour.

“Tell me everything.”

So you did. It was embarrassing and awkward, but damn did it feel good to get off your chest. Ada sat watching intently, pursing her lips and sighing when appropriate, burgundy nails tapping on your table when she got particularly annoyed. She threw her head back and finished her second glass, faint cherry red staining the rim.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a shit friend.” You apologised, gulping the remaining droplets of your own drink. “I just - God, I had no idea what to tell you.”

“You know you can tell me anything.” Her voice was ernest and for the first time in a long time you actually felt like you could breathe, Ada always had that effect on you. She had a way of making people feel comfortable.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” You sighed, cradling your knees to your chest. “I was too embarrassed.”

“It’s not your fault, babe, Tommy’s a dickhead!” She shoved you lightly and you smiled halfheartedly. “And I would tell him that in person! Not that I’ve seen him since Grace came back.”

You felt your spine go rigid.

“Grace?”

Annoyance painted Ada’s face, and she pursued her lips like she was sucking on a lemon.“He didn’t tell you about her? That she came back?”

Not explicitly, but she had always been there. Ada had once told you about her brothers lover, the beautiful blonde vixen who had turned his world on its axis. That was partly why you were so hesitant, knowing you couldn’t compare to a woman like her, but Tommy had made you trust him, and look how that turned out.

Now you were slapped with the cold, hard truth, and it hurt.

She was the woman always on the tip of his tongue, the one that he saw when he closed his eyes. You were the body he used, the temporary buzz and the hit of pain relief, but she was the one he really wanted, the woman he pretended you were.

“No. Must have slipped his mind.” You laughed falsely, feeling tears build behind your eyes. You inhaled, your voice quiet. “But Grace - she was the one wasn’t she? You know, the one who...”

The one who broke his heart. The woman he loved, the woman he really wanted.

She hesitated, but then nodded sadly. “Yes.”

“God I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m sorry baby.” Ada pulled you into her arms, cradling you against her chest like she was comforting her son. You let the tears fall, felt them cascading down your cheeks like a waterfall. Ada stroked your hair and pulled you close, and you closed your eyes, finally giving into the sadness.

———————————————————-

It was slow - the healing process. Falling back into a routine of work and chores, and eventually starting to laugh and smile again. You passed your final exam with flying colours, finally becoming a registered nurse. Ada was there with Karl, cheering you on when you left the hall with papers in your hands. You continued working at the library, hiding behind the bookshelves at the back with Ada, clutching your stomach from laughing so hard, your knees weak. You made new friends with the ladies at work, visiting clubs and bars on the weekends, trips to the pictures after a long day on the job. You even got asked out on a date, with a handsome doctor called Dennis who always made you a cup of coffee in the morning and saved you the donut with pink sprinkles he knew you liked.

It took time, but you were finally starting to feel the wound scab over, but of course, a hurricane in the form of a smart mouthed gangster was just enough to blow down everything you had worked so hard in repairing.

Three months of no contact had passed.

It was late. Hot water billowed around you as you stirred your tea bag, inhaling the sweet smell of cinnamon and lemon. You pulled your satin robe tight against your skin, admiring the soft blush pink colour and shuffling towards the bedroom in your matching slippers. You hummed as you turned down your bed, longing for the sweet embrace of your covers, but you were pulled from your daydream by pounding on your front door. You sighed, ignoring it and continuing to fluff your pillows, but when it didn’t stop, you frowned and stormed towards the assailant.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You muttered, swinging the door wide open, but the words evaporated like ocean spray when you came face to face with the man you least wanted to see. It was such a cruel sense of deja vu, and you could feel your face growing red hot with anger.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

He ignored you, stepping over the threshold and back into your life. You held your hands up, defensively and aggressively, your brain not knowing whether to fight or fly. You inhaled loudly, you didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

“Please, Tommy. Just go.”

“I needed to see you.” His words were quick, raspy and urgent, but you brushed them off like they were nothing.

“You’ve seen me, now leave.”

“Not without speaking to you. Let me explain.”

“Was she busy?” You spat. “Is that why you’re here? She’s away so you think you’ll just come and see me and I’ll let you in? Let you touch me? Fuck you, Tommy.”

His eyes were wild, frustration painting his features. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like that?” You spat. “Not that you were using me as a tool to get over another woman? After everything I told you - ” You stopped, not wanting to think about your past. It was too painful.

He came closer, walking towards you so cautiously and softly you might have laughed. “Just hear me out.”

“Why the bloody hell should I listen to you?”

He shrugged exasperatedly, your words striking his skin like a branding, because you were right. He had no moral high ground or proper explanation for the way he had treated you.

“I’m fucked up. Too fucked up for you.” And he’s telling the truth. You’re so pretty and honest and kind, even when you’re crazy with rage, your whole body is practically buzzing with anger and you’re still so beautiful and light and he knows that he ruined you. You trusted him, you confided in him, and he still left.

“I can’t believe I was falling so such a goddamn righteous asshole!” You seethe, raking a hand through your hair. His eyes widened but you merely scoffed, if looks could kill he would have been swallowing dirt. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. Don’t act like you have no idea what I was feeling for you.”

He didn’t know what to say, and he could his stone cold heart breaking.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You sniffed. “This is the last time I want to see you.”

“Just let me stay, let me make it up to you.”

He moves closer, wanting to feel your hair between his fingers, the soft embrace of your touch and the sweetness of your lips. Things had been going wrong all day, the business struggling and the cops getting suspicious and all he could think about was holding you. He wanted to try, he needed to feel you, he needed to feel something real. He wanted to apologise, pull you under him and make the both of you forget. For one more night he didn’t want to be Tommy Shelby, he just wanted to be the man who got to hold you.

You inhaled. “I’m seeing someone else.”

He felt a knife slice through his abdomen. He had no right to feel the shock and jealousy prickling through his skin, not after what he had done, but he still felt the raging green envy bubbling inside of him. He was being completely unreasonable and cruel, but a part of him had really hoped you would wait for him, but it’s that unfair mentality that had cost him.

“What?”

“I’m seeing someone - someone from work.” You said, finally gaining the nerve to stand up for yourself, wanting to wash away six months of your life you had given to him. “We’ve been going out for the past few weeks.”

“Who is he?” His tone was more demanding than he meant it to be, the shock and twinge of insecurity he felt from your announcement was making his words sharper.

“You don’t get to ask me that.”

He needed to take back control of the conversation, he needed to explain. He knew just how much he had fucked up, he’d been gone for too long this time, and his own selfishness might have cost him the best thing he had going for him. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“No, you just never meant for me to find out.”

“That’s not true, (Y/N). Listen to me, I - ”

“I have a busy day tomorrow, Thomas.” You said firmly, putting your foot down and refusing to let him try to right his wrongs - you had worked too hard on moving on. The hidden meaning in your words made Tommy’s jaw clench, his hands reflexively flinching at his sides. “So, please, just... just go.”

You were crying, but trying so hard to hide it. He could see the gloss coating your eyes and the flush rising from your chest, as though your body was leaking sadness from every pore. He felt his heart pound against his ribs. He was so used to getting what he wanted, in business and in private, and yet he felt like he might have just lost it all. So he turned and left, shutting your front door and trying to tune out the sound of your sobs, feeling even more empty inside then when he had arrived.

—————————————————————

He finally got what he wanted.

Grace was sitting opposite to him, her knees brushing against his, her smell so familiar and dizzying, but yet it didn’t feel right. She was a vision in a sea foam dress, with her sunshine coloured hair and perfect features, her eyes filled with a million stars that he could once spend hours getting lost in, but not anymore.

It felt so fake, so forced. The conversation didn’t flow, his words were stagnant, getting caught in his throat. She was looking right at him, the same way she did when they would wake up tangled in one another, at a time in his life that he used to think he was the happiest.

But maybe that had changed.

He was finding pieces of you in her. He knew that Grace only drank red wine, but out of habit he almost poured her a glass of bourbon; because that was what you liked. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the same way you did. How the shawl draped over her shoulders would look perfect on you.

He was sitting across from the woman of his dreams, but none of it felt right, because she wasn’t you.

Perhaps his dreams had changed.

He tuned out Grace as she spoke, her voice not calming him as it once had. All he could think about was what he had lost. He had been a prick, he knew that for certain. He hadn’t meant to not call you, to leave you in the lurch like he did, he just didn’t like anyone getting too close.

When he was in Birmingham he was the leader of the Blinders. He was smart and strong and thought things through so nobody else had to. He was the kingpin, the man who ruled with an iron fist and got exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. But with you, in London, he had allowed himself a sliver of peace. He let himself sleep next to you, peach coloured moon dancing over your bodies, curtains blowing in the wind. After a long day he found himself driving to see you. Wanting to see that shy smile that would make his knees buckle, feeling like a teenager even when he had beat a man half to death mere hours before.

You were a forest fire. Just a small spark, the smell of your hair, the velvet of your skin, the sound of your laugh, and his entire world was alight. He remembered taking you out, the feel of your small hand against his, genuinely wanting to know how your day had been. He remembered the sound of your laugh, when he had you pressed up against the window of his car, in between ticket stubs and cigarette butts and road maps, unable to stop the grin making its way onto his own face.

Even in the months he was gone; when Campbell came back and turned his world back to shit, in the quiet of his office, his mind always wandered back to you. He thought about you whenever he saw fog rolling over the hills or he felt rain patter across his shoulders, he would lose himself for a moment and his brain would conjure up a picture of you. When he saw John and Esme at the Garrison, soft gentle touches reserved for one another, that stupid dopey grin on his brothers face, he thought of you.

It was more than just sex and he was a fool for thinking that that was all it had been.

“Tommy? What’s the matter?”

It was Grace. Her voice like ripe berries and warm milk, but entirely wrong. He blinked, remembering where he was, feeling the velvet of the sofa under his suit. She smiled when she realised she had captured his attention, slightly smug and self assured, and she continued her story of the joys of living in New York.

Tommy looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since they had met up. Here they were, in a five star hotel room outside of Birmingham, with champagne and caviar and imported chocolates. But she’s married, to somebody else. And yet, she had rang him and expected him to drop everything and join her.

He almost laughed at the irony of the situation.

Grace was like the first sunshine after being caught in a storm, but perhaps he’d grown to like the rain. He’d been chasing her for too long, like a fucking puppy, and now she was sitting centimetres apart from him, and he realised that she didn’t look all that magical. He thought about the anguish he felt when she left, the pure heartache that almost split him in two when he found out she had married another man, the pain of sleeping alone once more - and it makes him falter, because that’s exactly the same way he’d treated you, and you deserved so much more.

He knew Grace wanted. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to feel something other than her pathetic new husband, she craved the feel of power and the memory of what it’s like to run around with the devil. Her hand moved from the stem of her wine glass to the top of his thigh, a gentle, almost timid touch, testing the waters before she fully submerged. This is what he’d wanted since the very minute she boarded that train, to be back with the woman he loved, but now her soft caress feels like a slap. She didn’t notice his internal struggle, wine drunk and ready to fall back into his arms, but all he could picture was you with another man, his hand resting on the silk of your skirt.

He felt the familiar tick in his jaw, the way his knuckles flexed unconsciously, he knew he had no right but jealousy was eating away at him. How fucking stupid had he been? And now another man would have the pleasure of taking you out, making you laugh and blush under diamond chandeliers. Another man would get to walk you home, listen to your voice and then kiss you under the silver moon. He couldn’t even bear to think of the next part, the mere thought making flames ignite around his pupils.

“Tommy?” Grace asked, her eyes big and round like saucers, lips parted and just waiting to be pressed against his. She watched as he stood up, his knees clashing against the bar cart, far more flustered than she had ever seen him before.

“I have to go.”

———————————————————-

The club was loud, the bands instruments following you everywhere you went. The room was painted red and gold, shimmering lights and glowing pink shades reflecting from every surface. You were in a booth in the corner, nursing a glass of bourbon and eating sweet green olives, vinegar and alcohol on your tongue. Dennis was sat opposite, clad in a fine suit with a fresh haircut and laughing at his own anecdote, his hands gesturing wildly as he retold a story you had already forgotten.

You liked him, you did. He was nice and funny and handsome, - but he didn’t make sparks dance on your skin when he touched you, and he didn’t occupy your mind every second you were apart. Maybe that was for the best, maybe you needed to be sensible and date with your head, not your heart, because that was why you always got hurt.

You mind had been muddled since Tommy came back. All of your hard work had crumbled to pieces when he had knocked on your door. It was beyond frustrating, the way that he managed to crawl back inside your conscience with just a few words. You tried to blink away everything that happened, focusing on Dennis sitting on the other side of the booth, losing yourself in his kind smile and bright eyes.

He reached out and patted your hand with his, and you noticed how smooth his fingers were, not like the rough calloused pads that you could remember digging into your thigh and - you stopped, determined not to let your mind wander. You weren’t being fair to Dennis, he deserved someone who would give him their undivided attention, and didn’t spend the evening think of another man.

You let Dennis order another round of drinks, the conversation coming back round to the hospital - the only thing you seemed to have in common. You were just about to ask after a patient who you had heard wasn’t fairing very well, when you heard a commotion coming from the main hall. You raised your eyebrows and twisted around, trying to get a better view but you were blocked mostly by the sea of bodies. You turned to look at Dennis, but watched his own gentle brown eyes fill with shock.

“I need to talk to you.”

Fucking hell.

You felt flames licking your skin and ice cold water on your head at the same time. That stupid brummie accent that made your toes curl even after all the shit he had put you through. You saw surprise flash across Dennis’ face, his brows knitted at the stranger who had approached your booth. You didn’t want to turn around and face him, but you didn’t want the situation to get out of hand. You risked it. Swivelling in your seat so you could see him fully, your eyes flittering over the curls in his hair and the dammed sea blue colour of his irises.

“Tommy.” You kept your voice as level as you could, but it was proving hard. “Tommy, what the hell are you doing here?”

“We need to talk, come outside with me.”

His stare was so heated that it almost made you feel uncomfortable, and his hair was tousled, the way it always got when he ran his hands through it repeatedly. You could tell he was jealous, not missing the way his eyes had darted to Dennis’ hand covering your own. You could see the clench of his jaw and the tension in his forehead and it made you feel good, it was about time he had a taste of his own medicine.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you.” Dennis said, rising from his chair so he could meet Tommy’s line of sight. You reached out and squeezed his wrist slightly, willing him not to get involved, not for your sake, but for his own.

“I’ve had a a really fucking long day and I think that it’s best if you don’t piss me off.” Tommy spat, his voice husky and exasperated, pointing a finger across the table. Coming face to face with you and your new lover was enough to tear the strings that were holding him together, he wasn’t a patient man and all he wanted was to explain himself, but it was hard when he was in such a jealous haze. His mind and his mouth weren’t working as one, he was losing his composure, and quickly.

“Stop it.” Your voice was stern, cold enough to turn him to stone. You could feel dozens of eyes on you, watching you all like you were performing at a play, mouths agape and eyes wild with anticipation. You blinked up at Tommy and you could see him soften, the hurt evident in your features enough to make him want to tear out his hair, furious at himself for how he always fucks things up.

You turned to Dennis, heart clenching as he held his ground despite being much smaller and a million times less intimidating then the gangster behind you. You gave him an apologetic look, knowing that the only way to diffuse the bomb that was Thomas Shelby was to speak to him alone.

“Thank you for everything, Dennis.” You said, shaking your head at the insanity of it all. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me for how this evening has turned out.”

He brushed off your words, as gentlemanly as ever, shooting a harsh look at Tommy. “Are you sure you’re alright going with him?”

You could see Tommy open his mouth to spit back something, his hands clenched at his sides, but you pushed him roughly in the torso and stormed past, heading for the back doors.

Your face was hot and red with shame, you could still taste alcohol on your tongue, but it had turned bitter and sour. You could hear him behind you, his expensive shoes clattering on the cobbled streets, his heavy exhales in the dark. He reached out, his touch timid and reserved despite the scene he had just created. At the feel of his fingers on your upper arm you pushed him off, walking further away into the alley.

“(Y/N)!) He called, but you ignored him, wiping away your tears before swirling on your heel, voice laced with venom.”

“It wasn’t enough for you to break me back at my flat?” You shouted, hearing your heart shatter with every syllable. “You had to come and do it in public too? What the fuck is wrong with you Tommy?”

“I know. I know.” He came towards you but you stumbled back, holding up a finger to keep him away from you. “I shouldn’t have made a scene.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” You cried, it was hard enough to even try to get over him, but now he was making it impossible and you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“I’m in love with you.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now. It was the words you had been begging him to say, the words that you had wanted to hear since you had first met, but they just made you weep harder. His face was so ernest, more honest than you had ever seen it, but it was so goddamn hard to believe him.

“You’re not in love with me, Tommy.” You murmured, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “You just want me because you saw me with another man.”

He shook his head, reaching out to touch you under the yellow glare of the streetlights. The feeling of you in his arms was so right to him, so familiar and warm that it felt like coming home. The tear streaks on your cheeks shone like the stars above the two of you, so beautiful and so heartbreaking and he needed to let you know how he felt.

“I’m in love with you.” His voice was firm, and even though you wanted to you couldn’t look away from him, trapped in his gaze. “It’s always been you. And I should have told you sooner.”

You stopped, everything you had wanted to say evaporated like ocean spray around the two of you, the water crashing so loud you could hear it in your ears. You were tired, and confused, half of you wanted to slap him and the other half wanted to fall into his arms. Instead, you sat down on the curb, feet planted in the gutter, dropping your head in your hands.

“I need a cigarette.”

Tommy smiled. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his packet and a lighter, giving you a smoke before lighting the end, watching the flame flicker in your eyes. You took three long drags, trying hard to control your breathing and rivalling emotions before you spoke again.

“How did you find me?”

He inhaled, puffing on his own cigarette. “I’ve had men watching you since the first time we met.”

You snapped around to face him. “You’ve fucking what?”

“You really think I was going to let you go around the city without protection?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“I know.”

The silence was deafening and you hated how you instinctively wanted to move by his side, press your body up against his for warmth. Instead you looked up at the navy coloured sky, counting the stars and pretending you couldn’t feel him watching you.

“I fucked up.” He spoke. “ I used you and I hurt you.”

You bit your lip to try and stop the tears from falling once again.

“I was heartbroken because of Grace, and I needed a distraction.”

“A distraction.” You repeated.

“I’m sorry. It’s redundant now, I know. But I am. I fucked everything up and I’m sorry.”

The tension between you was almost palpable, like the nicotine that was surrounding you both. You could feel the sincerity in his tone, but you also knew that he could talk a man out of his house if he really wanted to.

“Did she turn you down?” You countered, facing him. “Is that why you’re here with me?”

He shook his head, tongue running over his teeth, wisps of smoke leaving his lips. “I saw her for the first time tonight.” He said, honestly. “I sat across from her and I realised that she meant nothing to me, not anymore.” You felt him beside you, the pressure of his thigh digging into yours, desperate to get you to look at him.

“It was just sex.” You muttered, looking for some kind of safety net to stop you from making the same mistake, no matter how badly your heart is pleading you to fall onto him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Don’t lie to me.” He stammered, as though your words had truly hurt him.

“You treated me like shit, Tommy. How can I ever trust you?”

“I can’t promise I won’t fuck something up. I’m a bad man and I do bad things, but I swear, right, on my fucking life - that I will never do anything to hurt you.”

He was so close to you. The strong man so weak as he brushed his nose against yours. He felt years younger, and felt the overwhelming ache to drag you into his arms and kiss you senseless.“I need you with me. I can’t do any of this without you - And will spend every day proving to you just how much you fucking mean to me.” He whispered, words trailing off into the

crown of your hair.

You couldn’t stop it. All of the warning bells in your head extinguished like candles, and all you could think about was him. He had hurt you, dug a knife into your rib cage and left you to bleed, and perhaps a better woman would have left him sitting in the gutter, but you knew that the two of you were bound together - just as beautiful and broken as one another.

You shook your head, looking up at him through your eyelashes, the man who had turned your life upside down. You didn’t want to think anymore - so you didn’t, instead you smashed your lips onto his, making his head spin wildly, losing himself in you.He’s always had a high tolerance, but somehow, just one touch, just the brush of your lips against his, the heat of your breath on his skin, has him utterly, completely, wasted

“Please don’t break my heart.” You said, reminiscent of the first time you had slept together, pressing your forehead against his. He breathed you in, the smell of violets and salt, warm coffee and vanilla, the scents that he wished he could bottle. He pressed his lips to yours, claiming you as his as much as proving he was yours. He relished the taste of you, his kisses greedy and passionate, making sure that you were still there and knowing that he would never let you go again.

“I won’t.”

And it’s a promise he’ll keep.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders oneshot #fic #orion writes

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sweetchup · 4 years

Note

Thanks for the last question! c: 💞 I Also love those two little spiders, they are just cinamon rolls; could you do some Hcs about that scenario? (Sorry, I don't know if I made the request in the right way, I'm a little stupid 😅💔)

“Family” Scenario General Headcanons

Oh you’re not stupid! Trust me I get confused all the time, you should see me during class. Here’s an example for future reference. Ex: Hello! Can I have a Headcanon about what the two sons from your Chrollo fanfic Family think of the troupe? Or Hi Do the boys from Family know that the reader isn’t their real mother?

Yay.... Perfect Family. Two Head spiders, Two itsy bitsy spiders and 12 Aunty and Uncle Leg Spiders that creates an amazing 16 person huge crazy family.

This will all seem super crazy to you. You had expected to be fighting for the boys from Chrollo grasps or, at the very least, forced to come up with some visiting plans to allow him to visit. But, this? The fact that you and your sons are now on the road with the troupe, the other members are now aunts and uncle spiders, Chrollo, your sister’s ex, is now your Husband and Chrollo is trying to get you pregnant.

It also didn’t help that you soon come to find out that Chrollo has been watching you all for 2 years before showing up. He even has pictures of moments of you and the boys such as them opening presents on Christmas and you all going trick or treating. Major creepy vibes. So, you basically wanna just get away with your sons from these psychos as quick as possible.

But, escape plans aren’t going to work out for you since Chrollo has full intentions on having you stay and making you fall in love with him.

So he comes up with a plan that has Kao and August each choose 6 uncles/aunty spiders to go train with and learn Nen off in the world. The boy’s first adventure! Yay... but that allows you two to be left all alone.

So, you’ll be forced to be locked in a room with only your basic needs. The fact you were chained to the bed made it easier for Chrollo to make love to you and isolate you until you experience harsh signs stolkhome syndrome.

Well....., that’s what you imagined he would do.

Chrollo actually wants your real affection, he knows stolkhome syndrome will likely take a small toll in making you fall in love with him but he wants to still try to make it as natural as possible. After all, he has spent the past 2 years watching you all from afar you all being a happy family. It makes his heart clench and his stomach turn every time he has to leave. But, he knew he had to wait. He had to wait until the troupe knew they could trust the new number 4 and 8.

So, while the boys are gone, Chrollo actually ends up taking you out on real dates, to intresting places and attempts to talk to you like an equal. The public would actually end up seeing you two as a michevious and bickering young married couple instead of the actual dark true side of the situation.

Chrollo isn’t in any rush on making you fall in love with him either. He has plenty of time. After all, learning Nen can take a long time, about 6 months to a year for the basics.

Though, even with all this nice things, this doesn’t mean Chrollo is still not a manipulative asshole. He still in charge of this relationship and has no intentions on stopping “making love to you”. He fully intends on getting you pregnant with his third child even if you aren’t in love with him at that moment. Such a doting husband...

Also don’t worry about Kao and August. He’ll take you monthly for a week to see the boys and Machi is doing regular check ups on them. He can’t have his family getting hurt or falling apart can he.

Truly, even if you didn’t like the fact of the boys hanging out with the troupe. You couldn’t deny it was cute watching them interact with the boys. Especially when it came to August trying to play fight Uncle Uvogin or watch Kao sit and play video games on Uncle Shalnark’s lap.

Soon, no matter how much you didn’t want to, you eventually warm up to these psychopaths in about 6 months. You even realize you have felled hard for Mr. Edgelord himself, Chrollo. But, being so stubborn, you fully intended on not wanting to show it. You wouldn’t give up so easily.

Well... not exactly.

It was an early Sunday morning and you were sitting against the old cobblestone wall of the current hideout. The reason you were currently sitting against the cold ground was because you were carefully and slowly attempting to fix Kao’s favorite scarf. It had gotten ripped during his training with Feitan and Phinks so you were trying to get it fixed so he would no longer pout or glare at the two. It was honestly scary seeing Kao so unusually upset.

“Mommy! Mommy! Can me and Kao have Pizza for dinner tonight?” August yells as he and his brother come running over from their play spot. Stopping and looking up at the boys, you sigh. Pizza, again?

“Well, let’s check with your father, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure the boss finds it okay, (y/n)” Nobunaga chimes in from afar, yawning and stretching from his spot on a tilted pillar. Of course nobu chimes in on this, Pizza is one of his favorite too.

“Well, this is the third time this week the boys have had pizza, Nobunaga. Too much isn’t good.” Franklin says, weighing the options. Thank goodness you have members like Franklin and Pakunoda who think of the logical side of things instead of giving the boys whatever they want. You were honestly worried they were getting too spoil from their aunts and uncles.

“Aww but Uncle Franklin! it’s so gooooood~~” August exaggerates, stretching his arms as far as he could to show that its super good.

Small chuckling and giggles echo around the room from the troupe at the boy’s silliness. You really wished you could give it to them but you really knew it wouldn’t be good for them.

“No buts August. And Kao, don’t huff. I’m sure you remember all the stomach aches you’ve had from not eating the right foods.”

Kao blinks rapidly and looks worried at his stomach. Kao has always had a very sensitive stomach that causes him a lot of pain. At first you thought maybe he had something like a gluten or dairy allergy but, after taking him to the doctors, it was just he had a weird stomach. Kao was actually really good on staying away from the things that upset his stomach but, he hasn’t exactly learn that he shouldn’t be eating too much or too often of greasy food like pizza.

You pat your son’s head, giving him reassurance. “Don’t worry Kao. I’ll find something else you’ll eat if you are worried.”

Kao seemed happy by that answer as he huffs and wormed his way into your lap. You giggle at him, you have such a silly boy for a son. As soon as determined Kao is comfy, you go back to sewing his blanket.

“Mommmm can I please have pizza? Pretty please with a shiny on top?!”

You just shake your head and let out a small laugh. Stubborn August wants what he wants and he’ll contunie to try until he somehow gets it. Though thankfully he isn’t too greedy and you can usually pick out what he’ll want next.

Not looking up from your stitching, you yell for the twin’s father. He’s been sitting on his perch and not doing anything all day so let’s have him deal with this. “Chrollo!”

“Yes? What do you need, my loving wife?”

You snort and shake your head. He’s still at it with that ridiculous nickname. The twins always gag and groan at Chrollo’s yucky nicknames for you. Though, you can’t help but feel your face heat up at them.

“August wants Pizza for dinner.”

You hear Chrollo close his book “Only him? Isn’t this the third time this week too?”

“Well, I really don’t want Kao to eat pizza again this week due to his sensitive stomach. August is fine but, you know, it...”

Chrollo finishes for you. “...it doesn’t mean it’s healthy.”

“Exactly.”

“Well I agree with you on that. I think August should eat something else for dinner tonight.”

“Aww but dad!”

“August.” You warned, playfully glaring up at him. “There’s many different things for you to eat. I’m sure there’s something else you’ve really wanted to try?”

It’s silent for a moment in the abandon building as August thinks. He pokes his chin, a habit he does when he can’t remember or pronounce the name of something.

“Buuu... Bugoli? Bowlgoog....”

You allow him to try it out for a couple of times to see if he can get it. It’s better for him to try and figure it out by himself since it helps him learn and grow. Though, sometimes you do have to help him. No one gets it right all the time.

“Bulgolgi?”

“Yeah! Bulgogi! Bulgogi.... Bulgogi” August says it a couple of times to taste the new word. Probably trying to remember it for next time.

“Well then. I’m sure Feitan knows some really nice places and recipes around here for it.” You look over to Feitan for confirmation and he nods. You smile and give a small thank you before looking down at your other son. “Does Bulgogi sound good for you too, Kao?”

Kao blinks twice telling you a “yes”.

“Well that settles it then. Bulgogi it is.”

“Yay! Bulgogi!”

August runs off outside chanting Bulgogi. Kao wanting to go follow him, slips out of your lap and claps to his chant. The air in the room gets a lot more happier at the boys’ extra silliness and the other troupe members laugh and follow them outside as well. Wanting to see and play with the crazy itsy bitsy spiders.

You sigh at the boys’ antics but still go to stand up to join the others. Though, you notice something unusual. Chrollo wasn’t joining? This isn’t like him. He usually wants to see everything his itsy bitsy spiders are up to and will even sometimes join in on the fun.

“Chrollo?” You softly call out to the man up above and facing away from you. He turns his head at your call and looks down at you, waiting for you to continue. “You coming?”

“Ah yes I am. Were you—“

Chrollo cuts himself off with a hiss as he attempts to stand up. He’s able to move his body to a standing position but, unable to keep it any longer, he soon falls back down in pain.

You stood there in shock. Chrollo was injured? That’s never happened before. Well, atleast not anything major. What happened? Was he okay? Of course he’s not okay, he—

You cut your own thoughts off as you realize Chrollo was attempting to get up again. Quickly, you climb up the broken rumble to get to the higher area to stop him.

Finally, you reach him and grab onto his shoulders to get him to stop. “Hey. Shhh it’s okay. Here, just lean against me.”

Your coos and soft voice seem to work as you are able to make Chrollo lean against you. His back pressed against your chest and both of your pairs of legs tangled, as he heaves.

Slowly, you put a hand up to his forehead. It wasn’t that hot nor cold so he wasn’t running any sort of fever or chills.

“Hey. What’s wrong? What happened.”

“N-nothing. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look or sound fine, Chrollo. Did you get injured yesterday? I heard that was a pretty bad mission.”

It’s quiet as Chrollo doesn’t bother to answer you. For such a logical and bright leader man, he’s unusually very stubborn. You wonder if that’s where August gets it from. But, you need to find out what happened. If he can hardly stand that could possible mean he has something really wrong with his back or, worse, Spine.

“Chrollo. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

It’s silent again as you finish. Chrollo doesn’t bother to answer again. Letting out a soft sigh, you lay your chin on top of his head.

“Pleassssseeeee Chrooooooolllloooo.” You whine, making sure to specially exaggerate his name.

Chrollo doesn’t answer again. But, you wonder if he atleast has a small smile on his face. Actually, maybe trying to get him to ease up will be the best way to get him to talk to you.

“Chrrrrrrollllloooo Luuuuuuccilllllfferrrrr!” You whine causing your weird tone of voice to echo off the walls.

Nothing again. You guess you have to step it up a notch.

Bring up your hand you lightly knock on the side of Chrollo’s nogin. “Youuu whooo? Anybody home?”

No response but you, at the very least, get a small chuckle from him. Man, he’s so stubborn. Stubborn. Stubborn!! He’s glad you’re in a silly mood today or you would have just chose to smack him already.

“Hmmmmmmmm.”

You knit your brows in consentration. You were trying to think of a way to step it up from here to make him crack. But, how... what would get him to talk no matter what.

Oh! You could always...

Your face heats up at your train of thought. Was it really the best idea to finally admit your feelings for him? You honestly didn’t think so. Though, there were no reprocrusions for doing so.

“Awwww. Chrollo ain’t home. I really wanted to tell him something!”

Chrollo doesn’t do anything but you know, from experience, that he was definetly curious and was thinking intently on what you possibly wanted to say.

“Welp, I guess I’ll leave a message then. Dear, Chrollo Lucilfer.” You change to bubble voice as if you were writing a letter. “I wanna let you know that...”

You take a gulp due to you being nervous about what you were about to say next.

“... I love you. I really do and I’m not saying that to get you to talk. Or to get you to—“

You cut yourself off as Chrollo moves his head and presses a kiss to your neck. It wasn’t sexual. You could tell he kissed your neck, of all places, because he couldn’t reach to kiss your lips or cheek.

Slowly and Carefully, You move so you two were now face to face. You breath hitches as Chrollo puts his forehead against yours.

“Say it again. Tell me that my darling wife loves me.”

“I love you, Chrollo. I love you with all my heart.”

Finally, Chrollo impatiently leans in to capture your lips with his. You could tell based on the pure passion and need of the kiss that he had been waiting so long for this moment. The moment you would finally tell him you were actually his.

You two slowly pull away, not wanting to stop, but having to due to a stupid thing known as air. Your heart flutters at his next words and the small smile on his face.

“I love you too, (y/n).”

Flustered and face beat red, you attempt to hide your face in the fur of his jacket. You couldn’t help but finally get flustered at all this lovey dovey and fluffy stuff.

“Don’t tell me your embarrassed by just 5 words. I’m sure you remember the worse things we’ve done together?”

Never mind. Moment officially ruined. Damn it...., why did you have to fall for him again?

“Well, you still have to answer my question Chrollo. What happened?”

“You are doing the same as me. You avoided answering mine.”

“No, That isn’t even a question.”

“Sure it is. Not everything has to be answered in what, who, where, ho—“

“Please don’t go off on another rant.”

“Just admit that I’m in the right, my wife, and I won’t try to continue.”

“Right about what? The fact you don’t have to tell me you are in pain?”

“Not exactly. But, you have to follow what I, your husband, says. It’s in your best interests after all.”

“Yeah right. Exactly when has that actually happened?”

“Well, My suggestion of using a plug to keep my semen in has proven very effective so far. We are going to the doctors tomorrow after all to check if you are pregnant. It also was very helpful —“

“Chrolloooooo! Stop rambling!”

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #headcanon #scenarios #hxh scenarios #hxh chrollo #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #the twins #kao #august

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Nineteen

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

(Fluffy fluff! It’s the Thanksgiving part fam!)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen

Masterpost

Wednesday was a half day at work. Harry was busy at the beginning of the week, trying to wrap up his work before the holiday. It was a casual day at the office, so you decided to wear jeans and a cardigan. You and Niall walk out to your cars together.

“Have a great time with Sarah this weekend, her family is really nice.”

“Thanks.” He smiles at you. “Good luck tomorrow. I know Harry’ll be with ya, but-“

“I know, if I need you, I’ll call.”

“And don’t forget my dessert.”

“I won’t.” You say, rolling your eyes. You two hug goodbye, and off you go.

You drove right to the grocery store to get everything you needed for tomorrow. You had to make three different kugels. One for your dad, one for your sister’s house, and one to keep in the freezer to bring into work on Monday. Everyone would always beg you for the sweet casserole.

Harry keyed into your apartment around three, and found you cooking up a storm. You had loud music playing while the exhaust fan was on. You had your mixer going to beat all of the wet ingredients together. He smiled when he saw you wearing his apron. He had been leaving more and more of his things at your place. You didn’t mind. He walks over to you and waves hello. You’re startled, only for a second, and pause your music.

“Hi sweetie.” You say with a big smile, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m almost done, just need to pop these in the oven.” You put the casseroles together, put them in the oven, and set the timer. Your kitchen only took a few minutes to clean up since you tended to clean as you went. Harry is leaning against the counter, waiting for you. He opens his arms for you, and you happily go in for his embrace. “How was your day?”

“Good. Got a lot done. I feel good about takin’ a couple days off.”

“Good!” You look up at him.

“How was your day?” He squishes his nose to yours.

“Quick, thank god. We all mostly sat around and chatted. It’s hard to work on a project during a half day.” You brush your lips against his. “I missed you.” You squeak.

“You did?”

“Mhm.” You were trying to be more vocal with him. He needed reassurance just as much as you did. He kisses you, and you kiss him back.

“I like this on you.” He says, tugging at the apron.

“Really? I like it better on you.” You let go of him to untie it. “I couldn’t find mine for some reason. Must’ve gotten mixed in with the laundry.” You place the apron on your island. Harry lifts you up to sit on the counter, standing between your legs. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his go around your back. You liked when you two just hugged. You loved the smell of his cologne and the way his breath always smelled like mint.

“Babe?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.” You melted every time he said it. It didn’t matter how often he said it, you couldn’t hear it enough if you were being honest.

“I love you too, Harry.” He nestles his face into your neck, just nuzzling in. He was being soft with you today.

You realized that Harry had many personas when it came to you. Sometimes he was just your soft boy, looking for cuddles and small kisses. Your soft boy loved to be held at night. This side of him usually came out when he was tired. Then there was your quiet, yet cranky boy. When Harry was overtired or ravenous, he would get cranky. He would pout his lip out at you, and essentially act like a baby until you figured out how to make things better for him. Another side to Harry was when he was full of lust and domination. You wanted to refer to this as daddy Harry, but you would never tell him that. He was also careful not to be too dominating, in fear of scaring you, but you liked when he would take the lead.

You had your different personalities too that he would pick up on. How you were always so shy after he would make you orgasm, and that shyness seeping into the morning. He was a sucker for when you’d act like the baby. When you just wanted to be carried or taken care of. He also noticed slowly that you liked being in control in the bedroom. You liked telling him what to do and how to do it. Your confidence was so sexy to him.

Today he was being your soft boy, and you couldn’t get enough of it. The attention he craved from you knew no bounds. He picked you up off the counter and brought your over to the couch to lay with him.

“How ‘bout some TV?” He asks, taking the remote in his hand, switching on Parks and Rec. He grabs the blanket from the back of the couch, and throws it over your bodies. You feel cozy and warm laying against him. “Hey, whatever you’re makin’ smells pretty good.”

“Oh, thanks! It’s called kugel, remember?”

“So, just how Jewish is your family? Am I going to look like an idiot if I don’t know much?”

“Not at all baby! My brother married a gentile, and my sister is dating one.” You laugh. “You’ll be in mixed company tomorrow. As for the rest of us, we’re pretty Jewish. We all had bar and bat mitzvahs.”

“You can speak Hebrew?”

“Well, only from the Torah. I haven’t practiced in a while, but I have a lot of the prayers memorized so I don’t really need to read it. I can’t like, ask you how your day was in Hebrew or anything.”

“Did you go to temple a lot as a kid?”

“Yeah, for the most part. I went to Hebrew school on Sundays, and then once I graduated from that, I went to temple on Saturdays and had prep classes on Monday nights…for like two years.

“That’s a lot of work for a thirteen year old.”

“Sure is, why do you think we have such a big party once it’s over?”

“I bet you were so cute, up there, speakin’ Hebrew.” He giggles to himself.

About an hour or so later, the oven goes off, and you peel yourself off of Harry. He helps you get the kugels out of the oven, and he takes a big whiff.

“Oh my god, this smells incredible. I may have to try some tomorrow.” He winks at you.

“What do you wanna do for dinner tonight? I grabbed some fresh veggies and rice, I could whip up a stirfry or something.”

“You’ve been cookin’ all afternoon, let me make dinner.”

“We could cook together.”

“Deal.”

You take out the veggies from the fridge while Harry starts a pot of water for the rice. You both chop up some zucchini, asparagus, and mushrooms. It was fun to actually cook together. He let you taste test the veggies in the pan before adding the rice. You both scarfed down the stirfry, and sat back down on the couch.

“So what time do we need leave by in the morning?”

“Um, I’d say nine to get there for ten. Hang out with dad for a few hours then go to Erica’s.” Harry looks at his watch.

“Might turn in early, love. Don’t wanna be too tired.”

“Good idea. Hmmm.” You both stand up and walk to the bedroom.

“What?”

“I’m trying to decide if I wanna shower tonight, or tomorrow morning. I’ll be able to sleep in a little tomorrow if I shower tonight.”

“Good thinkin’, I’ll join ya.” He’s already taking his clothes off and turning the water on before you can answer him. “Are ya comin’?” You giggle and take your clothes off.

You get your hair wet first, and push it out of your face. You go to grab your shampoo, but Harry snatches it.

“Um, I need that.”

“I wanna do it, like how you do for me.”

“Oh.” You blush. “Alright.”

Harry puts a small bit of shampoo in his hands. You turn around and tilt your head back. His fingers massage into your scalp, and you can’t help but let out a small moan. He reaches above you to grab the shower head so he can scrub the shampoo out of your hair, the way he’s seen you do it a dozen times. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he puts the shower head back.

“Thank you baby.”

“Not done yet, conditioner.” He picks up the other bottle, takes the ends of your hair and works the conditioner in, then he turns you around so the water hits your hair. He grips it and wrings it out for you.

“Quite observant, aren’t you?” You wrap your arms around his neck, and go up on your tiptoes to kiss him. He wraps his arms around you, and gives your bum a squeeze.

“My turn please.” You giggle, but do as he says. He loved when your nails would really rake through his scalp.

Once you’re done with his hair, you take a wash cloth to wash his back and chest. He does the same for you. It was a nice, relaxing shower. You flip your hair over, and wrap it in a towel. You remember the first time Harry actually saw you do this. He laughed hysterically, but you were able to shut him up when you showed him the picture Niall had taken of him when his hair was long, and he would wrap his hair in towel. You wrap another towel around your body while Harry wraps one around his waist.

You brush your hair out after a few minutes, and begin to blow dry it. By the time you come out of the bathroom, Harry is curled up with his phone in bed. You throw a t-shirt on, and climb in with him.

“Goodnight baby.” You say to him with a soft kiss on the lips.

“Goodnight love.” He turns over like you thought he would, so you could spoon him.

Your alarm goes off at 7:30 the next morning. You’re soaked in sweat as Harry yet again managed to roll completely on top of you. He groans into your neck as you turn the alarm off. He rolls onto his back, bringing you with him on top of him, you squeal from the unexpected action.

“Harry, we need to get up. I need to do my hair and makeup. I haven’t picked an outfit out yet either.”

“But I’m so cozy.” He says, voice still thick with sleep.

“Well, you can stay in bed a bit longer, but you need to let go of me.” He groans again, but releases his grasp on you.

You go into the bathroom to do your morning routine. You plug your curling iron in, and get to work on your hair. Once you’re satisfied, you put your makeup on, and go back into your room. You smell nail polish remover and frown at the sight in front of you. Harry is hunched over on the side of the bed, rubbing his nails with a tissue.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

“It was startin’ to get chipped, so I thought I would take it all the way off.” You frown. His nails were still done from when you went away that weekend. He was trying to hold onto the color for as long as he could.

“Well, I have some quick drying polish if you wanna do them up quick.” You go into your dresser and take out some black nail polish. “See?”

“I think it’ll be fine for today if my nails aren’t painted. I don’t want to give off any weird impressions.”

“Oh Harry, I want you to be yourself around my family.”

“I will be. I’m still wearin’ my rings, and s’not like I can take my tattoos off.” He gives you a reassuring smile. “Tell ya what, when we get back tonight I’ll let ya paint my nails for me.”

“Alright.” You smile back at him. You open your closet and furrow your brows. “What dress do you think I should wear?” He gets up and stands next to you to look over the options.

“How ‘bout that navy one?” You liked your navy dress. It covered your breasts, and had a thin belt to help show your curves.

“Excellent choice.” You kiss him on the cheek.

Harry goes into the bathroom to do his thing while you put a lace bra and panties on. You take out some nylons, and roll them onto your legs.

“Holy shit.” You look up and see Harry staring at you.

“What?”

“You look so…fucking sexy like that.” Your cheeks flush.

“We do not have time for this.” You step into your dress, and pull it up. “Please come help me zip this up.” Harry pads over to you, and slowly zips your dress up, lingering for just a moment to kiss the back of your neck. “What are you going to wear?”

Harry goes to the side of the closet you had cleared for him a while ago. You wanted him to be able to leave some dress shirts and pants at your place. He pulls out a white button up and a pair of green dress pants.

“How ‘bout this?” You loved his green pants. They were a nice forest green that helped bring out the color of his eyes. You also liked when he would wear a white button up, so you could still make out some of the tattoos on his arms.

“I think that would be perfect.” You slip on your navy flats and head into the kitchen. You pull out two casseroles from the fridge and set them on the counter.

Harry comes sauntering out of your room. He has those light brown Chelsea boots on he loves so much. You watch him walk by and can’t help but notice the perfect curve of his butt in his slacks. This was going to be a very long day.

“What?” He asks, noticing you staring.

“Nothing, you just look handsome.” He blushes. He knows she wants him. “Help me carry these down to the car?”

Harry slips his jacket on, and grabs the casseroles from the counter while you put on your p-coat. You grab your keys, much to his dismay. Harry preferred to drive, but you told him since it was your family thing, you would drive.

“Looks like it’ll be a nice day out.” He says looking out the window as you pull out of the parking lot.

“Yup, just a little brisk out.” You hit a spot of traffic thirty minutes into the drive, and you groan. “I hate the way people drive.” This was the first time Harry would see you drive on the highway. You were trying to keep your road rage at bay.

“Holiday traffic, love. Nothin’ we can do about it.”

“I know, we should’ve left earlier. I figured yesterday would be the bigger traffic day.”

About an hour later, you get off at your town’s exit. Harry looks around, having not explored the area before. It was a good size town, there were lots of shops and places to go. You slowly pull up to your childhood home. It was a large white house with a detached garage and long driveway.

“Well, this is it.” Harry gives your hand a squeeze before getting out of the car. He jogs to your side to open your door. You roll your eyes at him.

“Just in case the old man is watchin’.” He winks at you.

You walk up the steps to your home and open the door. Usually your dad kept the door locked, but unlocked it knowing you were coming.

“Dad! We’re here!” You yell, nearly making Harry drop the food. You shrug and take your coat off, then grab the food from Harry to put in the fridge. Your dad had a huge kitchen, an addition he had put onto the home only a few years before your parents separated. Harry takes his jacket off and hang it up where you put yours. “Where is he?” You sort of ask yourself. You go down the hall to where the basement door is. “Dad! Hello!” You yell again. Harry smirks at your behavior.

“Hi!” You hear your dad yells up.

“Jesus, someday when my voice gives out maybe he’ll get a hearing aid.” Your dad comes up the stairs.

“Sorry, I had the parade on.” You two hug. He gives Harry a look.

“Dad, this is, um, my boyfriend, Harry.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Harry extends his arm out, and gives your father a firm handshake.

“Why don’t you give the boy the tour while I heat up breakfast?” You dad says to you. “Probably the first time I’ve ever let a boy go up to your room.” He laughs to himself, and steps by the two of you.

“As far as he knows.” You whisper to Harry. You take his hand and walk him in the living room.

“What’s down stairs?”

“Just his man cave. I’ll show when we come back down. Figured we could start from the top down.”

“Sounds good to me. Should I take my shoes off?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Still holding his hand, you walk with him upstairs. He stops to admire the photos of you as a child on the wall.

“Look at that hair! And I thought I had a mess of curls as a kid.”

“Don’t make fun.” You pout, sticking your bottom lip out.

“M’not, you’re just so cute.”

“Jesus, come on.” You drag him up the stairs. You walk him through a room that looks like a den. “So this used to be mine and my sister’s room when we were really little. Then my dad turned our attic into a bedroom for Erica and I, and my other sister kept this room.” You turn to open the door up to the attic.

The stairs going up were really steep. Harry hit his knee twice trying to go up. You were used to the stairs so you practically flew up. The room was pretty bare, having not lived there in years. All that was left were the two twin beds you and your sister used to sleep on.

“Pretty big room!” He says walking all around.

“The desk was over here, and we had three dressers over there. All of our toy boxes were along that wall. We could never keep it clean up here. My sister and I are such packrats.”

“I find that hard to believe, your place is spotless.”

“I have storage unit I keep a lot of my old shit in.” You smile at where you used to keep your Barbie’s. “Erica and I used to dump out this big blue bin that had all of our Barbie’s in it. We would play for hours and just leave them around until we were ready to play again. It drove our parents nuts that we just never cleaned up.” You sit down on the bed, he sits next to you.

“So, this is where the magic happened, yeah?”

“Maybe for my sister, I never brought a guy up here.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t date much in high school.” You shrug and stand up. “Come on, there’s more to see.”

You both go back downstairs. You show him your brother’s old room, which was now a guest room. Then you brought him back down to the living room. You could smell your dad’s latkes. Then you brought him down to the basement. Your dad had quite the man cave. Big TV, surround sound, and a small bar. There were shelves full of tapes and DVS’s. He had sports paraphernalia everywhere.

“Real New England fan, huh?”

“You have no idea.” There were pictures of you and your siblings everywhere. He stopped to look at a picture of you and your dad with a trophy.

“When was this?”

“Oh! That’s like my favorite pic of me and Dad. The Red Sox had just won the World Series in ’04, and the trophy was on tour. They brought the trophy to the high school, so my dad brought us. They even let us touch it, it was so cool. I think I was like nine or ten.”

“Cute bangs.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Someday I’m going to see where you grew up, and I’m going to make fun the whole time.”

“Deal.”

You take him back upstairs to the kitchen where your dad was putting everything on plates.

“Need any help?” You ask.

“Nope, let’s sit at the dining room table.” Your dad brings the last couple of plates over, and the three of your sit down. “So, Harry, what do you do?”

“I’m a photographer for a geographical magazine.” He tugs his shirt sleeve down to try to hide his anchor tattoo. “I also do a lot of freelance work.”

“Harry also has his master’s degree.”

“What does a photographer need a graduate degree for?”

“Well, a couple of reasons. Quite frankly, I wasn’t ready to leave school. My two best mates and I all enrolled to get our MBA’s. It worked out in my favor though because I learned how to properly run my freelance business.”

“Why stay with the magazine then?”

“Health insurance.” Harry shrugs. “And other benefits.”

“Makes sense. I told (y/n) that benefits was one of the most important things when looking for a job. She got lucky where she ended up.”

“I was lucky an alum from the college worked there to help me with the interview.” You all take some food and dig in. “Dad, these are so good.”

“Found a recipe that used parsnips. Ever had potato pancakes before?” He asks Harry.

“Oh sure, never as fresh as this though.” He smiles. Your dad looks down and sees the cross on Harry’s hand, which leads his eyes up to the anchor he was trying to hide on his wrist. Your dad squints at the rings on Harry’s fingers as well.

“Got some tattoos there, I see.”

“Um, yeah, just a few.” Harry’s heart was starting to beat faster. He really did want to make a good impression.

“You know when mum and I were still together we used to joke about getting each other’s names tattooed on our butts.” He starts laughing.

“Dad!” You laugh as well. Harry gives a bit of a nervous laugh.

The conversation stay pleasant from there. You tell your dad about your current project at work, and he fills you in on his volunteer work at the food pantry. Harry helps clean up the dishes when you’re done eating. Your dad turns the parade on in the kitchen. You decide to sit down at the piano in the living room. You open it up and tap on a couple of different keys. Harry hears you from the other room.

“Is that her playing?” He asks your dad.

“Yup, when she was really little she would flip it over and start playing. My wife’s great aunt had that piano and gave it to us. All the girls learned how to play. My son learned how to play the guitar.”

“Musical family.”

“I suppose. I’m hoping someday when she buys a house she’ll take it. She’s the only one that’ll play. Don’t tell ‘em I told you this, but she really is the smartest out of the four. She sees things clearly from every angle.”

“She’s very bright, I’m a lucky guy.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

Harry and your dad come out to the living room to listen to you play more clearly. You’re not playing anything crazy, just some songs you remember learning as a kid. You finish and turn to face them.

“I’m glad you keep this in tune.” You smile at your dad. You look down at your watch. It would take another thirty minutes to get to your sister’s house. “I think we have to get going.” You stand up to give him a hug.

“Happy Thanksgiving honey.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, dad.”

“It was great to meet you Harry.” He shakes Harry’s hand.

“Same to you.”

You both walk out and get into the car. You can’t believe how well that went. You were fully expecting your dad to ask Harry a million different questions.

“I think I sealed the deal with him when I talked about my health insurance.” He chuckles.

“Oh, for sure.” You pull out of the driveway and drive towards Erica’s.

“In all seriousness, how was that? He was sort of quiet at first.”

“He takes some time to warm up to people.”

“You never mentioned you could play the piano.”

“It never came up. It’s not like I’m some prodigy or anything, if I was they would’ve kept paying for lessons.”

You get to Erica’s in exactly thirty minutes. You see your mom’s car is already there. Your brother’s isn’t there, as you assumed because he’s always late. You see your uncle’s car is there already as well. You take a deep breath, and wrap an arm through one of Harry’s.

“It’s gonna be fine.” He smiles down at you.

The door is half open when you walk in. Loud voices roaming through the house. You hear a distinctive, and familiar laugh.

“No fucking way!” You squeal. You run toward the laugh leaving Harry behind to rush back to you. “Nannie!” You throw your arms around you grandmother, tears nearly forming. She wraps her arms around you giving you the best hug possible. “Mom, are kidding me? How could not tell me she was coming?” You say giving your mom a hug and kiss.

“She wanted it to be a surprise.”

“How long are you here for?”

“Just a little over a week, precious.” You give her another hug. You look up and see Harry holding onto the kugel.

“Whoops, sorry, Erica!” You yell for your sister, who comes running into the room to give you a hug. You take the kugel from Harry’s hands, and give it to your sister.

“Yay! Thanks.” She turns around to bring it into the kitchen. You take Harry’s coat, and put yours and his into the coat closet.

“Alright, mom you remember Harry?”

“Of course, hi dear.” She gives him a gentle hug.

“Hello.”

“And Harry, this is my Nannie.”

“I’ve heard so much about you.” He gives her a hug and you could nearly cry at the sight.

“I’ve heard about you too.” She takes his hands in hers. “What beautiful rings. I love a man that can wear his jewelry, your papa never left the house without his gold on.” She says to you. Her eyes catch his anchor tattoo. “Oh for the love of god, her uncle will just love you.”

“He’s got quite a few, I’ve seen them.” Your mom says. Erica comes back over to you.

“So, is this him?”

“Yes, this is Harry.”

“Thanks so much for coming. By the way, mom made an extra dessert to bring to Niall.”

“Oh perfect, thanks!”

“Harry, can I get you anything to drink? We have beer and wine, and we have some other alcohol too. Or if you want water or something?”

“Um, a beer would be great actually.”

“We have bud, bud light, corona…”

“Bud light is fine. If you tell me where it is, I can get it.”

“Just through the kitchen, out to the patio.”

“Want anythin’?”

“Glass of wine please.” He walks off to fine the beverages.

“Oh my god, how do you keep finding these crazy attractive guys?” Your sister says to you.

“I told you he was cute, his pictures don’t do him justice.” Your mom says.

“And how polite was he? He seems sweet honey.” Your Nannie says. Harry comes back shortly with a glass of red wine for you, and a bud light in his other hand.

“Harry, you’re a photographer?” Your Nannie asks him.

“Yes.”

“What made you want to go into that field?”

“Don’t know really, I just always had a camera in my hand growin’ up. Figured I’d want to get a job doing somethin’ I actually liked.”

“And you grew up in England?”

“Yeah, a few hours outside of London.”

“(y/n), where’s that cute Irish friend of yours today?” She asks you.

“He’s started dating my friend Sarah, so he’s with her this weekend. He sends his love. Harry and him are actually best friends, Niall introduced us.”

“Oh! How nice, well, I definitely know you’re in good hands if Niall had something to do with it.”

Harry snakes an arm around your waist to pull you a little closer to him. This environment was a lot less relaxed than your dad’s house was. About thirty minutes later your brother showed up with his wife and baby. You give them a few minutes to settle in before going over to hold your nephew. You take him in your arms and snuggle him giving him light kisses on his forehead.

“Harry, this is my brother and sister in law.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Harry shakes both of their hands. Your brother and sister in law give each other a look.

“Nice to meet you too, man.” You brother says. “Wanna hold him for a bit so we can say hi to everyone. We don’t really want Mike’s family all over him.”

“Well it’ll be torturous, but I’ll manage.” You say sarcastically.

“Mike is Erica’s boyfriend, right?”

“Yup.” Harry watches as you bounce the baby, lightly rocking him from side to side.

“He’s awfully cute.”

“Isn’t he?” She kisses his forehead again. “I could just snuggle him all day.”

Harry loved babies, he had mentioned it to you several times. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he just had this natural thing with babies and kids. He liked seeing how easy and comfortable you were with your nephew.

“Hey, (y/n), can you come help me in the kitchen?” Erica asks.

“But I’m holding the baby.”

“Have Harry hold him, I need your help.” You suck your teeth and roll your eyes.

“Fine.” You look up to Harry. “Do you mind taking him for a minute?”

“Will your brother mind?”

“No, it’s fine.”

You hand your nephew off to Harry, who is trying to hold his excitement in. Your nephew looked up at him with big blue eyes. Harry walked him into the kitchen to see what your help was needed for. You looked at Harry and smiled. He looked so comfortable carrying your nephew around. You were helping your sister get her buffet table together now that everyone was there.

Your Nannie comes over to help as well.

“I’ll take him.” She says to Harry. He gently passes the baby off her to her. “Isn’t he precious?” She kisses him. “Now that’s delicious.” You giggle. This is going much better than you thought. Your uncle comes walking over. He hasn’t had a chance to meet Harry yet.

“So, this the guy?”

“Yes, this is Harry.�� The two shake hands.

“Do you have a sleeve?” He asks, noticing the tattoos peeking through his shirt.

“Um, not technically.”

“And don’t give him any ideas either.” Your Nannie says. You wrap an arm around Harry’s waist, hoping he’s not uncomfortable.

“Oo, you two are so cute, let me take your picture.” Erica says. You hand her your phone, and lean into Harry while she snaps a couple shots. “Everybody! Dinner is good to go!”

“Harry, why don’t you sit down with my grandmother and I’ll make you both a plate. Save me a seat between you two.”

Before he can protest, your Nannie gives the baby to your brother, and grabs Harry to go sit with her. You make up a plate for him with every vegetable you can find, along with some mashes potatoes. Your mom makes up a plate for your Nannie. You stack another plate for yourself and pile on some green bean casserole, vegetables, and mashed potatoes. You put Harry’s plate in front of him, and sit between him and your Nannie.

Harry sits quietly as he eats, listening to the vibrant conversations your family has. He notices that your oldest sister isn’t there, and makes a mental note to ask about it later. Your mom starts telling a story about when her and your uncle were kids, and your Nannie started choking, and had to slap the back of neck to get the food out. Between tears from laughing your mom says,

“And she says, ‘you ungrateful bastards! I could’ve died!’” Everyone at the table was laughing. Harry started laughing just from the sight of you, tears streaming down your cheeks, trying not to choke on the food you were eating.

“That is the best story.” You say, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“It was scary you know! You two are a couple of bastards.” Your Nannie says, not really meaning it. “Harry, you must think we’re a bunch of lunatics.”

“Not at all, I think it’s great you all seem so close.” He says with a smile.

“I cannot get over that accent.” Erica says. She was sitting across from you. “How come you stayed here and didn’t go back overseas?”

“I just really liked it here. Fell into some good opportunities and didn’t feel the need to leave.”

“So do you have a work visa?” Your brother asks.

“I started off with a student visa, and then had a work visa once I graduated. About a year after that, once I knew I wanted to stay, my mates and I all took citizenship tests, so I have dual citizenship. Annoying process, but it makes it much easier to travel now.”

“How did you two meet again?” Your brother asks you.

“Niall set us up on a blind date a few months ago.” You smile, giving Harry a squeeze on the thigh.

“Where did you guys go a couple weeks ago? The pictures were so pretty.” Your sister in law says.

“We went up to New Hampshire to check out the foliage. It was incredible.”

“Harry, do you do any freelance work?” She asks.

“Quite a bit, yeah.” She looks at your brother.

“Do you ever take pictures of people? We’d love to get a little photoshoot in before Christmas if possible. We’d pay you of course.”

“Sure, I’d love to. Do you have a specific date in mind? I’d have to book it now just cause I’m startin’ to fill up.” He takes out his phone and opens his calendar.

“Um, would two weeks from Saturday work? In the afternoon?” Harry looks at the date.

“I have from like two to four open if that works for you.”

“That should be great! Oh thank you so much. It’ll be nice to have some professional photos to send out. You’re really good, we sorta creeped on your Instagram page.”

“That’s what it’s there for. I’m happy to help.”

After dinner, you all have a little dessert. Most of your immediate family migrated to one part of the house. You were sitting with Harry on the couch when your siblings came over to sit in the same room. Your Nannie sat right next to you. The couch was getting crowded. Without thinking, Harry pulled you onto his lap. You got a few looks, but no one seemed to mind.

“Alright, I’d like to see more of the tattoos.” Erica says, glass of wine in hand.

“I don’t know if your grandmum will appreciate that.”

“Oh go ahead, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.” He looks at you for approval, and you nod.

Harry adjusts himself so he can untuck his shirt, and unbuttons it. He shimmies his sleeves off. Revealing his heavily tattooed left arm. His right arm only had a couple. He pointed to a few that had meaning, and explained that others were just for fun, or from when friends asked to practice on him. He pointed to where the large butterfly sits just below his breast plate, and the others near his collar bones and hips. He points to where the large tiger is on his thigh.

“Didn’t all of those hurt?” Erica asks.

“Not really, you sorta get used to it after a while.”

“Have you ever done one yourself?” Your sister in law asks.

“Um, yeah, I wrote the word big on my big toe.” Everyone bursts out laughing. “I did say they weren’t all meaningful.” He shrugs his shirt back on, and buttons it up, not bothering to tuck it back in.

“Can I hold the baby again?” You ask. Your brother passes him to you, and you rest his head on your shoulder. “He’s so cozy, I love it. Erica, take my picture with him.” You hand her your phone. She takes one close up, and then backs up a bit to get Harry in the shot. “Thanks.”

After a couple more hours, you both decided to call it a night. You started saying your goodbyes throughout the room.

“Honey, can we come see you Sunday? Nannie hasn’t seen your apartment yet.”

“Sure! You know, I could drive back home tomorrow and stay with you a couple of nights while she’s here. That way she can get around if need be.” Harry tries to hide his slightly fallen face. He wants you to spend time with your grandmother, he was just looking forward to another long weekend with you.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t need to do all that driving.”

“I know, I just want to spend time with her.”

“We can spend the entire day Sunday together.”

“Alright…” You hug your mom, and go to give your Nannie a big hug. “Guess I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Okay darling girl, I love you.” She gives you a big kiss.

“Love you too.”

“Will Harry be around too?” You look over to him and he nods yes. “Wonderful, we can keep getting to know each other.” Harry gives your mom and grandmother a hug goodbye and waves off to everyone else.

“Want me to drive us back, love?” He asks as you walk out into the cold air.

“Would you mind? I’m suddenly realizing how tired I am.”

“Not a problem.” You hand him the keys, and get into the car.

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles y/n fic #fluff

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