#there is a lot less drama and heart ache in my personal life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angellesword · 3 years

Text

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (13)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Warnings: mention of infidelity, leading to insecurity (poor Sin-ae.) manipulation, cursing, unrealistic BOD meeting lmao

Chapter’s OST: Fight Song by Rachel Platten

Word Count: 5.1k

Series: CHAPTER 12 | CHAPTER 14

It goes without saying that one should either stay away or fight those things that destroyed them.

It was long overdue and you knew it. You shouldn't have let the Kims treated you like garbage. You should've fought them the first time they violated your peace.

But no. You did none of these because for the longest time, you felt like you owed them. You felt like you had ruined their perfect family so now you were required to pay for it.

It was like you were your father's souvenir from a long trip of fucking around. A memento that reminded Sin-ae and your siblings that Taemin betrayed them.

All souvenirs had limits too though. Over time, they started to deteriorate. You felt like this was happening to you. You were no longer that pretty little thing that did whatever the Kims wanted.

You had enough; however, it didn't mean it hurt any less.

"Hey, are you okay?" You heard your name being called. You felt his hand on the small of your back before you saw his face. He was keeping you steady in place.

"Huh? Um—" You tilted your head, meeting the gaze of the person who saved you from collapsing. "Architect Jung?"

You blinked at your former co-worker, making sure that you got his name right. You hadn't seen him in years. What if you remembered his face wrong? What if he's not Jung Hoseok, the only architect in this firm who Jungkook adored?

You remembered from years ago when Jungkook pouted all day because Architect Jung announced that he would be quitting his job soon. If you remembered it correctly, your best friend even shed a tear. He really liked this mentioned architect.

Luckily, Hoseok didn't push through the resignation. Until now, he was still working at Castle. All you knew was that he didn't like working on site. He preferred guiding junior architects and working in the office.

This was why it didn't come as a surprise to you to run into him today. You were simply curious if he was really the Hoseok you knew from years ago.

He looked different. His hair was longer and his gaze was dark. The Hoseok you knew always smiled bright. What changed?

"You don't look okay. Maybe we should sit first?" Hoseok guided you towards his office room.

You took a seat on the couch, watching as Hoseok strode towards his mini fridge to get a bottle of water.

"Here..." He handed it to you after opening its cap. "Can I get you anything else?"

Hoseok sounded like a concerned big brother. There's a warm feeling in your chest because of the way he looked at you. It's as if he truly cared about your well-being.

"No. This is fine. Thank you, Architect Jung." You smiled politely at him. Sometimes you forgot that some people could show you kindness without having an ulterior motive. "You already helped me a lot. I'll probably collapsed on the floor if you didn't catch me."

You chuckled lightly. You were confused, guilty, and hurting. These mixed emotions were probably the reason why you felt like you were going to faint. You walked out of Taemin's office right after telling the Kims that you should see one another in court if they had concerns about your father's last will and testament.

You left instantly because you didn't trust yourself. What if you said the wrong things and made the situation so much worse? A part of you knew you deserved to inherit a portion of Taemin's assets despite being an illegitimate child. On the other hand, you felt like you were being unfair to your siblings for thinking this way. You took so much from them already. Wasn't it enough that you succeeded in breaking their family apart?

"Are you eating well?" Hoseok asked with concerned eyes. He was currently sitting on the couch right across you.

Architect Jung's office was spacious. It was bigger and comfier than Jungkook's space here at Castle. You wondered if it was because of his position or if it had something to do with his relationship with your father.

Your father always brought Architect Jung and Jeon with him whenever he had meetings outside Korea. The three of them were pretty close. Years ago, you actually heard Seokjin and Taemin fighting.

Your eldest brother was demanding to know why Taemin preferred the company of Hoseok and Jungkook more than his own sons. Your father was quick to defend himself, saying that Hoseok and Jungkook were architects and one of them could be his successor—the one who could help continue his legacy—unlike him and Namjoon who chose a different path.

Seokjin was wrong to drop the argument after that. He should've dug deeper. He should've questioned his father and exposed his secret.

You were not the only illegitimate child of Taemin. Hoseok was too. You found out about it on a very underwhelming day: today.

"Or are you still sulking because you didn't get to attend our father's funeral?"

You realized that some people could say mean things easily. Hoseok didn't know that his words hurt you, making you feel like you didn't have the right to feel sad about not seeing your father for the last time.

But that's not your concern at the moment. You squinted, like you're trying to see if Hoseok grew two heads.

What did he just say? Our father? Did you hear him right or were you just too emotionally drained to be conversing with other people right now?

"You get overwhelmed easily, my dear sister." Architect Jung observed with a thoughtful gaze.

You were still too stunned to speak.

"Now I'm not so sure if I should tell you all my secrets. You don't look like the person who can help me take down the Kims."

"I—I." You flinched at his words. Take down the Kims? What the fuck was he saying? "I don't understand this. Why would I want to ruin...my family?"

You cringed the second the question left your mouth. Even in your own ears, you sounded pathetic. After all this time, you still thought you're part of that family?

Maybe Hoseok wasn't the confusing one here. It's you and your stupidity.

"They're not your family." Architect Jung corrected you through gritted teeth. "Family helps each other. The Kims destroyed you and our father—"

There it was again.

You cut him off because the more he spoke, the more confused you got. Your temples were aching and suddenly, you weren't so sure if the culprit for your headache was still the Kims.

You thought Hoseok was making you feel perplexed. He seemed to understand the confusion he's bringing because he looked at you with sympathy as he picked up the folder on top of the center table, the same table separating the two of you.

"Maybe this will help you understand better." He handed you the folder.

It was as if your hand had its own life. You were already reaching for the folder before you could process what he said.

Hoseok urged you to open it and read the first page of the file.

You obliged. Lips trembling as you silently read the content. Your temples throbbed more. You had seen this same paper years ago. This was a paternity test result. You knew because Sin-ae demanded a copy of this when Taemin claimed you were his child.

"Y-You're..." Your heart was in your throat. Your face felt hot and it was difficult for you to speak.

Still, you pushed hard and asked; "you're my brother too?"

It's strange. To feel warmth in your chest.

Hoseok was your brother.

He was family.

"I am." Hoseok's jaw ticked. He swallowed before saying "I'm the eldest son of our father..."

Your hands balled into fists upon hearing that, not in annoyance but because of happiness. Finally, you felt like someone would understand what you feel. You asked Hoseok to share his life story to you, but only if he felt comfortable.

The last thing you wanted was to drive him away. Fortunately, your brother didn't mind sharing. It's not like he had a choice. Really.

This was the only way he could think of to convince you to help him make the Kims pay.

Hoseok started by telling you that his parents had a romantic relationship even when Taemin was already married to Sin-ae. Apparently, your father's legal wife had difficulty conceiving.

Taemin even thought that he and his wife would never have children. This was when he decided to be with Jung Jiwoo, Hoseok's mother. Just like your mother, Jiwoo fell into Taemin's trap.

Taemin debated if he should break up with Sin-ae after finding out that Jiwoo was pregnant. He almost did, but fate was cruel because just as when Taemin’s about to divorce his wife, he found out she was pregnant too.

Jiwoo accepted her fate. Unlike your mother, she wasn't demanding. She was content with the fact that Taemin treated Hoseok well. His eldest son was his favorite.

Things only changed when Taemin decided to form a professional corporation with his best friend Jong-in. He rarely visited Hoseok. He started prioritizing the company and his new mistress.

Jiwoo didn't mind. In fact, she even invested in the firm as well. Just like your mother, Jiwoo also saw potential in the business. She knew it would grow and become one of the best architectural firms.

Jiwoo invested for the sake of her son. She wanted him to have a good future, especially because it appeared like Hoseok was into architecture as well.

Hoseok was actually one of the first architects to work at Castle. He helped the company grow. Taemin saw the fruit of Hoseok's labor and even made a promise to make his eldest son his successor.

It was all lies though. Taemin felt guilty when Sin-ae broke down and found out about you. He realized he couldn't break her heart more so he decided not to tell his wife and children about Hoseok.

Taemin died without revealing the truth about his eldest son.

"Is that why you want to take down the Kims?" You winced after he told you the truth. "Because you hate our father? Because he didn't include you in his will?"

Your heart dropped to your stomach. How cruel. You honestly thought Hoseok was like you. You thought he just wanted to belong. To be loved...But it appeared like he was blinded by revenge.

"I don't hate our father." Hoseok scoffed, offended that you thought he was the kind of person who would bring down the people who were important to the person he hated. "He's an ass, but he loved me. I can't say for sure about you though."

Ouch.

You avoided his gaze because what he said hurt. Hoseok seemed to realize the impact of his words because his face turned pale.

"I-I don't mean it like that." He did. "I mean...I don't know." Hoseok conceded since he didn't really know what he was talking about.

He couldn't talk on behalf of his father. He could only talk about his observation.

"I think...father loved you." His voice was barely a whisper, like he was ashamed to say this to you. "Just not in the way you should be loved."

Hoseok pursed his lips. His eyes glistened with dejection.

"Because you deserve so much more, my lovely sister..."

You felt his stare through your soul. It hurt.

It hurt to think that you found someone who was going through the same thing as you. It just hurt that even when you're basically on the same page, you're still so different.

Taemin loved him more than he loved you.

But why? Weren't you deserving of his love?

"If I deserve so much more, then why do people treat me like this?" You choked back a sob.

You didn't mean to break down like this. You were so tired of appearing vulnerable in front of people. Why did it feel like they always have the upper hand?

It's not fair.

"Because you let them." Your heart broke into a thousand pieces after hearing Hoseok's response.

"So it's my fault?" You couldn't help it. Tears trickled down your face. It's like you had been slapped.

"There's no other way to put it." Hoseok was remorseful but not really. "Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with you. You're full of love, I get it, but not everyone is like you. You can't expect them to be nice to you just because you're nice to them."

He paused for a second just to stare into your eyes. He looked desperate—desperate to make you understand.

"Some people...They're very entitled, you know? They feel like they can do whatever they want with you since they're conditioned to think you wouldn't mind."

You understood that, but Hoseok wasn't truthful. He was wrong to say there's nothing wrong with you.

There was.

People took advantage of you because you let them. That's your mistake.

He intended to help you correct it.

"But you have to mind it. Their horns will only grow if you don't deter them from hurting you. Before you know it, it's not just you who's getting hurt—"

Hoseok let out a deep breath.

"—it's everyone." He bit his lower lip. "Everyone is suffering because of the Kims and I want to put an end to it."

You watched as his expression hardened.

"You're the only one who can help me."

Despite Hoseok's revelation of the truth, you still didn't understand why he wanted the Kims to suffer.

He figured it's best if he showed you the evidence instead of just talking about it. Hoseok wasn't dumb. He knew you loved the Kims, especially Soojin. You might be tired of their bullshit; however, it didn't mean you would be happy to see them in pain.

Unless he gave you valid reasons.

"You think you can spare me some time? I'd like to tell you more things." Your eldest brother enquired.

You were still inside his office here at Castle. An hour had passed since he shared that he was also Taemin's son.

"Uh...yeah. I think so." Jungkook was supposed to pick you up. He told you to send him a message when you're done meeting the Kims and Taemin's executors.

You appreciated Jungkook's attempt to comfort you. He's always there to help you, but it looked like you wouldn't be able to meet with him today or any time soon. Definitely not when you had to fix so many things.

Hoseok ended up bringing you to his apartment. He showed you things you didn't even know were real.

"Here's the original copy of the documents related to the construction of the building in Myeong-dong."

You weren't sure why Architect Jung was showing you these documents when he should be handing it to the authorities. All of this information was related to the building that collapsed weeks ago. The investigation was still continuous and the management of Castle was going through a rough time.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but I'm not sure how else to convince you that I'm not the bad person here." Hoseok saw the way you looked at him when he claimed he wanted to destroy the Kims.

You didn't believe in revenge. You knew at the end of the day it's not going to be as fulfilling as what you thought it would be. What would you gain if you hurt people who hurt you?

Satisfaction? Yeah, and so? Would it change the fact that you got hurt?

"Take a look in that document. There's the original blueprint of the building. Kim Soojin designed it. She's actually the one leading the construction of the building, not our father."

The words escaping Hoseok's mouth weren't registering in your mind. Your whole attention was focused on the documents in your quivering hand.

Just like what Hoseok wanted you to do, you took a look at the document. Your brows snapped together, lips parting because of shock.

It hadn't struck you yet that the sole reason why the tragic accident happened was because of Soojin.

Accident.

By definition, an accident meant an event that happened unintentionally. Just by looking at your sister's design, you could already tell that an accident would definitely happen. Soojin was a professional. She was a licensed architect. How could she not know this wouldn't lead to death, injuries, and damages?

The building was poorly designed. It's like aesthetics were prioritized rather than safety. It's frustrating to see this. Hoseok also told you Soojin wanted the building to be constructed immediately so she designed it using inferior materials. It was easier to obtain these materials since it could be delivered the same day you ordered it.

This was unlike Soojin. She usually preferred ordering high-quality materials to the point where the budget set for her projects resulted in a deficit. She incurred a lot of cost whenever she accepted a workload.

"She's planning to join this international competition that's why she rushed the construction of the building." Hoseok explained, causing you to shake your head.

This was ridiculous. Soojin wasn't that dumb to compromise the safety of people just to win, right? She's better than that.

"I don't believe this." You practically shoved the documents back to your brother. This was a difficult pill to swallow.

You felt like everything you knew about your sister were all lies. She had a temper, yes. She was a brat, yes. But she was smart. She was a good architect. Or were you just convincing yourself?

"S-Soojin isn't like this." You wheezed, making Hoseok heave a deep sigh.

"Isn't she?"

You thought people only experienced life flashing before their eyes when they're on the brink of death, but as Hoseok asked this question to you, every memory you had with Soojin flashed in your mind, like it was telling you to not just look but see.

"But she's so kind to me." You deflated.

Hoseok looked at you with sympathy. Or was it pity? He pitied you because you were blinded by the idea of wanting to belong.

"She really did a good job manipulating you, huh?" Hoseok grimaced, wondering if he was at fault too.

He knew about you. Taemin talked about you. It's actually one of the reasons why Hoseok chose to stay at Castle. It's not simply because he had interest in becoming the next chairperson. He wanted to look after you too.

Was he too late? Why didn't he reach out to you?

"S-She did not manipulate me." Even in your own ears, you sounded pathetic. Why did you keep denying the truth? Deep down, you were sure Hoseok was right.

"She did." Your brother continued to insist. "A lot of times. You just misunderstood the meaning of manipulation because she did it so kindly."

There were two kinds of manipulation.

One was when a person used intimidation or violence to manipulate another being into doing something.

Most of the time, the people who had been coerced ended up hating the one who manipulated them.

This was the case with your mother. It took you long to admit that you hated her. For the longest time, you told yourself you loved her because at the end of the day, she was still your mother.

But she hurt you and abused you, so you started to hate her.

The other type of manipulation was when a person used kindness to get what they wanted. This was what Soojin did. She made you feel like you belonged, like she loved you—this was why you didn't hate her.

You loved her.

Acting like you’re kind was the easiest way to make people believe you're a good person. However being kind and being good were two different things. You just failed to see that.

"If you still don't believe me, then stay with me for a while. I'll show you everything you need to know."

There's something about the way Hoseok said these words that made you agree. You stayed at his place for days, refusing to go back to Jungkook's apartment no matter how many times he tried to reach you.

You couldn't afford to be distracted right now. Jungkook was a distraction. Every time you saw him, all you wanted to do was drop everything and just be happy with him.

Love shouldn't be your priority at the moment. You had to unveil the truth first.

Fortunately, you did.

Hoseok didn't stop providing evidence. You didn't know how he managed to talk to some employees who apparently knew about the real reason why the building collapsed.

Your heart was divided into two. A big part of you believed that Soojin failed and blamed her mistakes to Taemin, the other part of you still chose to trust her. This seemed to frustrate Hoseok because days after providing you legit evidence, he said he couldn't do it anymore.

"You clearly trust your sister. What if you heard the truth from her?" Hoseok furrowed his brows, irritated.

You gulped, heart beating fast.

"Okay," but you agreed because as stated, you knew deep down that evidence didn't lie.

You got what you wanted and Hoseok felt like he could finally breathe.

"You believe me now?" Your brother folded his hands over his chest. A sigh of relief escaped his lips upon seeing you nod your head at once.

The evidence you were looking for was hearing the truth coming from Soojin. You heard her admit the truth when she and Sin-ae were at the columbarium.

"There's nothing holding you back this time?" He pressed.

You nodded again, this time, you were more determined as you clenched your fist and gritted your teeth.

"Nothing..."

This was the story that unfolded days ago. Right now, you were standing behind Hoseok here at the conference room in Castle.

Everyone anticipated your move. They watched you deliver that shocking news. It was oddly satisfying—to watch the surprise staining their face.

Sin-ae clearly wanted to lash out on everyone, unfortunately she couldn't use the 'this is impossible' card because before she could even breathe, the evidence was provided to every person in the meeting.

Mr. Han and the other shareholders had a smug look on their faces. They weren't bothered that Hoseok wasn't carrying Taemin's last name. What's important to them was that now they had a better option.

Anyone was obviously better than having Soojin as the next chairperson.

"H-How do we know you didn't fabricate the result?" Sin-ae desperately groaned as she glared at Hoseok. This was bad. So fucking bad. "My husband is dead!"

Your father's wife was arguing that Taemin was cremated. She firmly believed that the result had been tampered.

This belief of hers had been shattered when Namjoon interjected the conversation. He stood up, gaze focused on his wailing mother. Sin-ae was hurt. Of course she was. She just found out that her late husband cheated on her more than once.

She couldn't help but wonder if there's something wrong with her. Just like you, she was insecure. Wasn't she enough?

"The result is not fabricated, mother." Namjoon started. Eyes so soft that it broke Sin-ae more. "Architect Jung Hoseok is my father's son too. I helped prove it."

Your eyes widened upon hearing that. Shit. You thought you're the only one who had revelation to make today. Who would have thought that one of your siblings would do something like this?

"Hoseok-hyung and I requested a sibling DNA test. The file in front of you will show you the result."

"If Mr. Jung Hoseok is also entitled to legitime, shouldn't you be discussing this in court?" One of the shareholders raised his concern.

You turned to that shareholder.

"You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Kang. My brother's share in our father's estate has been settled. I transferred my shares in this company to him."

"You did not!" Soojin seethed after a long moment of silence on her part. She was glaring at you like you betrayed her.

It used to crush your soul, but seeing her today didn't make you feel anything. You stared back at your sister impassively.

Her face was crimson, eyes growing big and hands balling into fists. She looked like she could kill you.

"She did." Hoseok interjected, shooting your sister a taunting smile. Hoseok was seated right across Soojin. He could see her nostrils flaring. "I am this firm's major shareholder. Right, Architect Jeon?"

It was made known to everyone in this room that Jungkook sold his share to Hoseok. This only drove Soojin and her mother more vexed.

They were seeing red.

Soojin started throwing things. She angrily pushed all things she saw on the long table, shouting and blaming you for ruining her chance to become the next chairperson.

"Bold of you to assume you still have a chance to run this firm when you're nothing but trash." You surprised yourself when you said this.

Soojin too. Sin-ae, Seokjin, and basically everyone gaped at you. Your blank face was all they saw though. You were getting bolder now. It wasn't easy, but you found courage every time you thought about the bereaved families of the victims of Soojin's incompetence.

"What did you just say to me?" Her face flushed, heartbeat increasing because of hatred and disbelief. She wanted to scratch your face and drag you to hell.

You were a fucking bitch.

"Don't play dumb with me, Kim Soojin. You know what I'm talking about." Your shoulders squared as you lifted your chin. "Or would you rather I show everyone in this room the evidence you thought you already got rid of?"

For a second Soojin looked like she had a smart retort, but her face turned white when she heard your question.

It's the same expression she had when she saw you at the columbarium many days ago. Fear was never a good look on Soojin. Because unlike you, she wasn't used to feeling this way.

She always won, always got what she wanted. But not this time.

Definitely not this time.

"What is this all about?" Mr. Kang puckered his lips, unamused as he stated his opinion. He said he didn't have time for family drama.

"This isn't drama, Mr. Kang. This issue concerned all of you." You didn't waste any more time. "Castle is going through a rough time now because of the accident that occurred in Myeong-dong. I know the investigation is still on-going and we're all tensed as to how this will affect us, especially because you all believe the culprit is my father. But—"

"No!" Soojin and her mother tried to stop you, but the shareholders were done with them. They said they'd kick out Soojin and Sin-ae if they didn't act professionally.

This was a corporate meeting. It didn't take a genius that one should be in their best behavior.

You continued.

"The building collapsed not because of Kim Taemin but because of Architect Kim Soojin. She led the construction of it. I have here all the written evidence." You nodded your head at your father's former secretary, silently asking to flash the evidence on the projector. Some employees proceeded to hand out the same copy of documents Hoseok showed you before, the one that would prove that your claims were real.

"And before you accused us of fabricating the results, well then, it won't be warranted. We have corroborated with the employees who worked with Architect Kim Soojin regarding this construction. They were bribed with money, but through persuasion, we have convinced them to take the moral high ground."

You elucidated that these coerced employees were willing to take the stand during Soojin's trial—yes, after all she had done, you were certain that Castle and the law would hold her accountable.

It's evident by the way the shareholders and the board reacted with the news. They still gave Soojin an option though: either go to the station on her own or the management would be forced to call the authorities right now.

"She'll turn herself in." It wasn't Soojin who decided this. It was Seokjin. Your brother was looking at you as he said this.

His face was void of any emotion. It caused your heart to skip a beat, wondering if Seokjin hated you even more now.

He didn't speak during the meeting. He remained frozen on his spot, just sternly watching the scene unfold in front of him. Another thought popped inside your head: did he know about Hoseok too? Namjoon did.

"What are you saying, oppa!? I'm not—” Soojin protested but Seokjin shook his head, wrapping his arms around your sister's shoulder and pulling her into his chest.

Seokjin whispered something to Soojin. No one heard it except your sister and probably Sin-ae who was standing close to her children.

Whatever Seokjin said to your sister worked because she stopped trembling and protesting. She stayed close to him though, face still buried on Seokjin's chest.

The vice chairperson was talking to Seokjin, probably about the criminal case. You watched as Hoseok and Namjoon joined the conversation. There were other shareholders trying to pry more information out of the Kims.

You were on the far corner of the room, observing them.

The conversation went on for about five minutes before you saw Seokjin walking away, gently holding his sister's hand and taking her with him.

Namjoon and Sin-ae followed them. Your brother spared you a glance.

You shuddered at his stare even though it's not cold. It's the usual way Namjoon looked at you, no emotion but like...he knew something you didn't. It always made you uncomfortable.

Even until now.

Luckily, Jungkook was here to make it all better. You felt his hand wrapping around your shoulder tightly. Just like what Seokjin did to Soojin, your best friend pulled you closer to him.

Your knee jerk reaction was to lean your head against his shoulder.

Jungkook smiled sincerely even though you couldn't see his face. You watched Namjoon walk away as Jungkook whispered "it's going to be okay, Tiger," in your ears.

His voice was so soft and gentle that you were compelled to believe that yes, everything will be okay soon.

this chapter is inspired by the quote I saw somewhere: if you demonized the demons, you’re the demon.

Ah. Two chapters left! How do we feel? I was shocked to see your reactions from the last chapter! The twist there is written on a whim 😭 I hope I didn’t disappoint you with this update! 🥺

I haven’t edited this. Please don’t mind the errors.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #armywriterssupport #jungkook romance #jungkook series #jungkook fic #jjk #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook best friend #best friend jungkook #jungkook best friends to lovers #jungkook friends to lovers

128 notes · View notes

londonalozzy · 3 years

Text

Don’t Tell Bucky 1/2

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama

Summary: The reader arrives home one night after drowning her sorrows, thinking she doesn't stand a chance with the guy she loves most, Bucky Barnes. She is so out of it that she ends up revealing all of her feelings to the first person she sees. The man himself.

Masterlist

I've been teased my whole adult life about what an old fashioned, hopeless romantic I am.

Yes, I'm an Avenger. Yes, I can kick ass when the occasion arises. But the rest of the time, the usual place to find me, is curled up on the couch with my head buried in a Jane Austen novel.

A couple of years ago someone came into my life that I thought was the key to it all. He was destined to be the Darcy to my Elizabeth, the Edward to my Elinor, the Mr Knightly to my Emma. Oh, how wrong I was!

When Steve first brought Bucky to Avengers HQ it was like a modern day version of when Bingley introduced Mr Darcy to the people of Meryton at the ball in Pride and Prejudice.

He was the archetype of the aloof romantic hero. Tall, dark, handsome, brooding and quiet. He kept himself to himself, observed everyone with eyes of an eagle, and only spoke when spoken to. I was well and truly hooked.

As weeks turned into months, Bucky and I came to an understanding, a friendship that only got more complicated as time went on. After everything he had been through, it was hard for him to open up to people, to let his guard down. What he did yearn for though, was companionship, someone to sit beside, someone to just be there if and when he needed them. I became that person for him.

Every time I decided to sit silently with a book in hand, it wouldn't be long before I had a certain super soldier at my side, just embracing the company, not having to worry about putting on a show for people he didn't feel comfortable with.

The complication in our relationship came when I realised how much I had come to depend on him being there for me.

My aching for him first made itself known when he started going out on missions that I wasn't apart of, when he went on all day training sessions away with the guys, and whole nights out when his confidence finally got a boost. I missed him. I missed him with every fiber of my being.

"So, I'm guessing you've heard the latest gossip on Barnes?" Nat asked me one morning over breakfast, her eyes not leaving her plate of blueberry pancakes as she spoke.

"Gossip? What are you talking about?" Any news on what Bucky was up to was music to my ears. I'd barely seen him these last few weeks, and it was seriously messing me up in more ways than I'd like to admit.

"You mean he's not told you? You? Princess Y/N?"

To say Nat was surprised by my ignorance was an understatement. This must be something big if she is shocked about it. When did it change to others knowing more about Bucky than I did? I thought we were best friends. He calls me Princess for Christ's sake.

"Maybe you should ask him yourself," Nat suggested, reaching across the table and rubbing my forearm. "I just assumed he would have told you first."

Now I'm seriously freaking out. "Nat, please just tell me what the hell is going on."

"You know Theresa down in medical?" Oh, shit. I've got a bad feeling about this.

"Yeah. What about her?"

"They're dating." Oh no!

It felt like my heart had leapt into my throat. I couldn't think, never mind know what to respond with. I knew it would happen eventually. I knew he'd end up with someone. I just assumed it would me. How stupid could I be?

"Y/N, you need to tell him how you feel." Why does Nat always have to be so good at this observation stuff?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I choked with a traitor tear in my eye, and a jump up from my chair when I suddenly felt the need to escape.

Nat followed me down the hall to my room, putting herself in front of me as I tried to change into my running gear. I had to get out of there. "You can't pretend this isn't happening Y/N. This is Bucky we're talking about. Your Bucky. You'll regret it if you don't tell him."

"Yeah, well I'll regret it a hell of a lot more if I do tell him and then lose him completely."

Nat grabbed my arms, stopping me in my tracks. She was one of my closest friends for a reason. She knew what made me tick, what scared me, what mattered the most to me. It's just not a risk I can take though.

"If you don't talk to him, all of this will get bottled up inside and it will ruin your friendship anyway. Y/N you need to get this out."

She was right. This was Nat. She was always right. My head and heart couldn't handle all of this new information. I didn't know how to deal with it, how to react.

So much for that epic romance I thought I was destined for. Looks like, for me, I'm only meant to be the friend, the side character in someone else's love story. I'm Eponine and not Cosette.

Deciding to lay off of me for the rest of the day, Nat rounded up Wanda and a few others and we headed out for a few drinks. Well, what started out as a few drinks anyway.

By the early morning I had at least 10 too many tequila shots in my bloodstream, partnered with a sore throat from overly emotional karaoke renditions of some of the best known heartbreak songs. I was a mess. A mess that could barely remember her own name.

"Are you drunk?" A random voice echoed through the hall as I stumbled around, trying and failing to get into what I hoped was my room at 2am.

"Why would you think that?" I replied to the swaying figure as they moved closer to steady my feet.

"Probably because you're trying to unlock your bedroom door with a lip stick. Plus the fact that the door doesn't have a lock on it anyway. What's up?"

Ignoring the nosy stranger, and giving up on getting into my room because the handle kept moving all over the place, I went in search of the nearest soft thing I could find to park myself on. Standing up was over rated anyway.

"You don't normally drink like this Princess," the randomer observed, leaning over me as I started making rug angels on the shag pile in the common room.

Why is this guy talking like he knows me? Who the hell does he think he is calling me that? "I've just got a lot on my mind. And don't Princess me. Only Bucky gets to call me that."

"Noted," the randomer laughed with a shake of the head, then joining me by laying at my side.

Staring at the ceiling as the silence engulfed us, I decided to confide in this handsome newbie. "If I tell you something, can you promise you won't tell anybody?"

"I promise," he responded without hesitation.

"I mean it, nobody can know. Especially Bucky. He can never find out." I pulled him into a sitting position and put my hands on either side of his face, trying to stress how important it was that he keeps this to himself. He really was pretty.

"I swear, Bucky will hear none of this from me."

"Ok. Here goes," I jumped up, frantic all of a sudden. "I want him to break up with his girlfriend, and it's seriously stressing me out."

"Why would you want him to do that? She's a nice girl isn't she?," pretty boy questioned in confusion, getting to his feet as well. Why did he care so much? Where the heck did he come from anyway? I swear, if this is one of Tony's robo experiments again I'm gonna flip.

"I'm sure they're perfect for each other," I groaned. "I just know that I don't want him with her. At first I had no idea why. He's one of my closest friends. I should want him to be happy right?"

"Of course," Mr Blue eyes confirmed with a furrowed brow and by gripping onto my now clammy hands.

"Then I started thinking about it. Why was I feeling like this? Why was it bothering me so much? I realised, it wasn't just this one girl I have a problem with. It's all girls. All except one."

"Who?"

"Me."

"Wait? What?" He bellowed, leaping backwards and pacing the floor. "You want m...I mean Bucky to go out with you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think so."

"Y/N, you can't just come out with something like that and respond with I think so," he screeched out in loud exasperation, so much so that I burst into flood of tears.

"Why are you shouting at me?" This guy is such a meanie.

When he saw how upset I was he immediately calmed down, placing his palms on my face and wiping the salty drops away. "Y/N please don't cry. This is just a lot to process."

It took me a while to calm myself down, hiccups escaping my lips as the crying finally subsided. Slowly, the angel man, stranger, person, thing walked me over to the couch and sat us both down. His eyes were boring into me, beautiful azure pools that looked slightly familiar. Maybe it was those bath bombs Steve keeps buying from Lush. I don't know.

"Why do you even care about all this? It's not like you know him or something?" I enquired, now looking at anything other than in those beautiful bath fizzer eyes.

"Just try to explain to me what's going on in that crazy little head of yours," he pressed.

Oh well. I may as well carry on now I've started.

"I've been with the Avengers for a long time. They're my family, my home. And don't get me wrong, I know they care about me, love me even. It's just easy to be sidelined, you know? To become an after thought when you're part of something so big. Bucky changed that. When I met him, it was like everything shifted. He became the reason I smiled every day, why I looked forward to getting out of bed. For the first time in my life I felt like I was at the top of someone's priority list."

"So are all of these feelings because you think you're gonna lose that? You think you're gonna lose him? I swear to you it won't happen." If it only it were that easy.

"I wish it was that," the tears building up once more as I eventually decided to look at him properly. "It would make all of this way less complicated."

"What is it then?," he pressed in urgency.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm head over heels in love with the guy."

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #reader #james barnes #Winter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #marvel #Avengers #captain america #falcon #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #oc #romance #comedy #drama

179 notes · View notes

savoies · 3 years

Text

uuu - jamie drysdale.

summary: friends to lovers.

word count: 2k.

warnings: one bad word?

a/n: this is so self indulgent and maybe one of the best/longest things i have ever written. enjoy!

taglist: @hartsyhart @nhlpetey @mitch-slap @frostythegoalman @ryanssuzuki @aria253264 @josty @kaitieskidmore1 @kiedhara @laurenairay @teenagekook @alxvlasic @hockeyallthetime @barzy-baby @officialgritty @bowenbyram @mems06 @joshsandersons @connormcdavo @maattamatthews @pierreslucdubois @selenophileangel @boqvistsbabe @ana-maa @stars-canucks @quinnhughxs

tagging some buds: @npatrickz @beauvibaby @heybarzy @tkachuk-yeah @cozycozzy @2manytabsopen

(*credit to gif owner*)

You and Jamie had met through a mutual friend. Since then both of you had been inseparable. Spending every single waking moment together. Stuck at the hip as your friends described it. Arms linked up as all of your friends hung out together. And when your mutual friends made plans to hang out it was always "will jamie be there?" or "will y/n be there?"

Jamie was great. You always had your fair share of best friends. Some back stabbing you in the back while others just moved away. But you have never had a connection with anyone like the one you had with Jamie.

Talks till 4am, finishing each other's sentences, or saying what the other was thinking cause the other was afraid or embarrassed to do so. Those are just some of the things you loved about your friendship with Jamie.

When he wasn't playing hockey you would sit in front of your tv and watch as many episodes as you could of the current show you were both obsessed with. Of course stuffing your face with food until you were physically sick, hunching over at a stomach ache. Every morning waking up in each other's arms in the most uncomfortable position. But it didn't matter cause you were in each other's warmth.

I mean of course you did have a dream or two about kissing or going out with Jamie but he didn't need to know that.

Both of you sat on your roof looking at the stars and listening to music.

"This song reminds me of you." He spoke up as a lively melody filled your ears.

"Funny you say that baby duck cause I actually have this song in your playlist cause it reminds me of you."

"Ok first of all you know how i feel about baby duck and second of all this just proves my point of us being on the same wavelength."

"Well i'm still calling you it even if you do hate it, i mean it is what you are." You looked at him with a smirk on your face knowing how much the nickname annoyed him.

"So like what if i just push you off the roof." He narrowed his eyes at you.

"James you want to kill me." You gasped.

He rolled his eyes at your other nickname for him. He shrugged his shoulders. Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes at him as you placed a punch on his shoulder.

Laughter was heard throughout the night as hours passed of you guys just listening to music and enjoying each other's company.

~~~

You sat at your friends house as she told you the latest drama going on with her on and off again boyfriend. You of course most of the time staring at your screen and smiling like an idiot.

"Y/N are you even listening?" Your friend said irritated.

"Of course I am." You lied as you looked up at them.

"Doesn't seem like it. Get me out of hereeee." Your other friend read out loud your text from your exchanged convo between Jamie to everyone.

"Ok fine no i wasn't. I already told you I think you should leave him, you can do better." You told your friend and narrowed your eyes at your other friend.

"Easier said than done. Not like all of us have a boy wrapped around our fingers just one call away." She looked at you directly.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, utterly confused. You weren't the best at reading signals when it came to dating. Honestly you were pretty oblivious.

"Wait are you serious, have you seen the way Jamie looks at you?" Your friend replied.

"Drysdale and I are just friends." You laughed nervously pushing away the not so friendly thoughts you've had about him.

"That's what they always say." Your friend who read over your shoulder responded.

"Shut up." You slapped them on their head.

"I am leaving because I feel like I'm getting attacked." You said as you gathered your belongings.

"She's going to see Jamieee."

"You guys are annoying, you know that." You huffed as you stepped out into the chilly night.

"Love you too." Your friends replied as you closed the door.

~~~~

Weeks had passed since that conversation with your friends. And as you thought about it, it all seemed to make sense. Well not the part of Jamie liking you but maybe you did like him a little. Ok maybe a whole lot. But it's not like you could just come out and tell him. You loved your friendship more than anything. And you wouldn't throw it away for some silly feelings.

Both of you sat on the couch in silence. Something you did regularly. It was your very own therapy. Thinking of what was wrong (or something that was going right) in life and then telling each other.

But you couldn't tell him this. At least not any time soon.

"Ok you first." Jamie spoke up breaking the silence.

"Well uhm nothing new really, I guess you're still annoying." You laughed.

"Hey!" He said shoving you with his shoulder as you sat on the couch side by side.

"Your turn."

"Well uhm I'm going on a date." He spoke up nervously avoiding eye contact.

"Oh my gosh Jamie that's amazing." You told him. I mean hey if he was going on a date it meant that you didn't need to worry about the dumb feelings you were experiencing and you could bury them deep.

"Yeah I guess." He laughed nervously smiling softly at you.

~~~~

A few days had passed since his date. Honestly he was avoiding you. Not really sure what he was feeling. He missed his best friend though. So he drove to your house and made his way to your room. He had knocked a couple of times at the front door but with no answer he used his key that you had given him for "emergencies". Soon with walking into your living room he understood why there was no answer. Loud music was vibrating through the small apartment from your room.

As he walked closer to your room he saw you dancing or more like jumping up and down to some catchy beat coming from your phone. (which your neighbors soon would complain about) But he loved seeing you this happy and carefree that the things he had been feeling soon faded away.

"Jamie!! Come dance with me." You yelled over the music.

"No no it's ok." Jamie said not really being the best at dancing. You went up to grab him spinning him around a couple of times and soon both of you were dancing around your room like crazy maniacs.

Both falling on your bed breathing heavily as the dance party had tired you out.

"What are you doing here?" You asked him confused since he hadn't called.

"Well I missed you." He spoke up softly using his elbow to lift himself up and face you. Your heart rate picking up as those words processed in your mind and you really hoped that he couldn't sense it.

~~~~

Your friends decided to walk around and go for coffee. So here you sat between some of your friends as Jamie was waiting in line to get your usual order.

Jamie saw you laughing at something your friend said. Your eyes creasing at the corner as you smiled hard. The smile he so dearly loved.

He wasn't going to tell you this but his date wasn't the best. The girl was amazing. But he caught himself talking about you rather than himself. He apologized profusely for wasting the poor girls time and all she said was that you were special. And indeed yes you were. To him you were everything he ever wanted in a person. In his person.

You looked up to meet Jamie already staring at you and you offered him a small smile and awkward wave. That smile he loved so much. And that is when Jamie realized that he was crushing on you hard. Your friend who had stood with him waiting for their coffee as well looked at him staring at you.

"You know she likes you too." They had said. As he looked at them questioning if it really was that obvious.

So now as he got both of your coffees he walked back to you.

"Ahh there is whom I love." You said as you made grabby hands for your coffee.

"How rude, and here I thought you were talking about me." He huffed.

"You know I love you but I do love my coffee more, now come sit before one of them takes your spot." You looked at your friends.

"Well i just don't think it's fair to spread yourself against two chairs to save seats." One of your friends said.

You stuck your tongue out at them as you laid your head on Jamie's shoulder and drank your coffee happily spending time with your friends.

~~~~

And then came Saturday. Jamie had asked if you wanted to go get ice cream and of course you couldn't say no. So after getting in his car and hugging him you told him how you missed him even though you had seen him less than twenty four hours prior.

Both of you trying to block the sun as you ate your quickly melting ice cream.

Some dripping on your shirt as the melting ice cream dripped from your spoon.

"You got a little something." Jamie had laughed.

"Good thing it's your shirt." You grabbed some napkins as you rubbed off the sweet treat.

After some time Jamie spoke up. "I like you and not just as a friend, you don't have to give me a response right away but yeah i just had to tell you." You looked at him shocked to say the least. Your friends were right and honestly all those feelings that you so called "buried" came all at once filling your stomach with butterflies.

"Well baby duck lucky for you I like you too." You said as you leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. And the rest of the day was spent with huge smiles on both of your faces.

~~~~

A few weeks later both of you sat on your friends couch. Holding hands. You guys weren't official just yet, trying to keep everything slow and not rush into things. Your friends of course had betted how long it would take for you guys to get together.

"Ok honestly if you guys are gonna be this lovey dovey and shit i think i might just head home." Your friend who had finally broken up with her boyfriend spoke up.

"Omg i forgot to tell you, Jamie has this friend who's like super cute, no offense babe..." you said.

"None taken." He said as your friends around you laughed.

"... And he's super nice. I'm sure Jamie can introduce you.

"Yeah, I think he's single." Jamie replied. Later on you guys played some board games, watched some netflix, and just talked about life.

"Ok ok i have to know when did you realize you guys liked each other." Your friend looked up from her sitting place on the floor.

"Uhm I think i saw signs over time but maybe when some people kept on insisting we weren't just friends." You narrowed your eyes at your friends.

"Hey look we were right so a thank you would be nice." They shrugged their shoulders.

"Mine's kind of embarrassing but when all i talked about was Y/N on a date." Jamie cringed.

"No way dude."

"Is that why you didn't want to talk about how it went, it all makes sense now." You looked at Jamie.

"Poor girl."

"In my defense I apologized many times and she said it was ok." He lifted his hands in defense.

You laid in each other's arms as the hours passed by happy at how things were going.

#hockey boys #hockey #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #team canada x reader #team canada #hockey fic #hockey fics #hockey blurb #hockey blurbs #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #anaheim ducks #san diego gulls #happy birthday to me!#ari's birthday tag #ari writes

133 notes · View notes

cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 16

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Authors Notes: So maybe sometimes I get a little wrapped up in the romance and the drama amongst the kink *shrug* I was very much in my feelings while writing the next few parts but I sincerely hope you enjoy the next few posts over the next couple of nights. I’m happily working on the ending!

Warnings: 18+ only as always. Thank you for knowing your own limits. Not everyone can handle this much Bronte… by Bronte I mean m/m/f action lols- no but really— explicit sexual situations, m/m first time sexual exploration and insinuation, dom Zemo, sub reader, sub Bucky

You’re convinced overindulgence was invented on the first yachts. It was probably the romans who came up with it. Caligula comes to mind. Terrible person, evil fuck really. Threw epic parties though and some of the best were on boats. While you’re missing a few hundred people to reach those levels, the next couple of days could inspire a depraved emperor or two.

You eat drink and laugh your way through a hazy cloud of hedonistic delight until you've managed to find yourself between them, beside them or beneath them on every level of the yacht. And if you aren't being fucked into oblivion, then you and Bucky are on your knees obeying Helmut’s many commands.

And yet it’s not all A.D. levels of body fluid swapping. You and Bucky convince Zemo to give your favorite baking competition show a chance and end up binging all of season three from the start, with you cheering when the winner is announced because you called it when they thought it would be the odds-on favorite.

During the lazy days that drag on so much longer than real life would ever allow, you team up with Bucky and nearly defeat Zemo at an endless game of chess which you can see only happens because he allows it; however you both easily beat the Baron at shuffleboard and more than once until he's convinced you’re both cheating.

The games are fun of course, but what you most like is watching Zemo and Bucky find their stride as a couple while learning how to share you, after all they've only ever had you apart. It's sweet to see them so attentive and aware of one another, not wanting to make the other feel pushed aside or less than. Yes Zemo is the dominant one in this relationship, thats been established, but respect and care for feelings is not bound by a role.

It's the little things that show this, like how Zemo will watch the way Bucky traces his finger down your neck thinking you don't see him looking and adjust his own subtle displays of affection. It happened in the lounge after you all went swimming just this past afternoon. You’d settled onto the low couch together, reading and scrolling. He used to touch you just like that—playing with your hair, stroking the back of your neck— now he watches, and it makes him smile to see Bucky so gentle with you. Without a word and little effort he lifts your legs up and over his own putting his feet up on the coffee table before getting lost in his book again so that you are cradled between them. This way, Bucky is free to touch you as much as he wants and Helmut can wrap his arm around the tops of your thighs and lay his warm hand on your knee. Sometimes, when he reads something especially interesting, he grips just a little tighter...

Helmut Zemo.

Your ever observant Baron. Always attentive to every need, so ready to serve for a man so quick with a command. Be it a drink, or a late night snack; Helmut is never above offering every comfort. He is a gentle and adoring force of such intense love that you both feel swallowed by the world he’s built around you.

On a calm and peaceful night —you can’t say which one, because you’ve intentionally lost count— the sky is full of stars and a low hanging white moon, so the three of you go out onto the bedroom balcony and curl up together on the oversized white sofa. You’ve brought a glass of wine and a blanket and take a big gulp of the jammy red before laying your head in Zemo’s lap while Bucky rests in the crook of his arm making himself small enough to fit and Helmut opens one of the many books from the den.

One of the things you’ve found out during your travels is that in preparation for his escape, Oeznik had been busy readying two crates full of the things the Baron would need; some things which were private and other small luxuries a man like Zemo can not live without, like these books. You’ve begged him to start Wuthering Heights. He doesn’t mind, Helmut is a tragic romantic at heart, it’s Bucky who seems a little doubtful at first but by the time Cathy’s ghost is begging to be let in through Heathcliff’s window, Bucky is silent and listening, completely lost in the story, or as your suspect, this beautiful telling of it. You’re just glad he’s able to experience the delight that is Helmut's voice all soft and calm as he brings the story to life. Everyone should be so lucky…

When he’s gone through the first couple of chapters and you’re starting to fall asleep, he closes the book, kisses your head and rubs Bucky’s thigh suggesting that it’s time to go in.

The bed is a welcome change and while you’re all too tired for a wild session like what happened on the upper deck this morning (your knees still ache and you’re pretty sure Bucky would have marks from Helmut’s belt across his back if it weren’t for his healing abilities) you can sense something special starting.

It’s easy to forget on nights like this that anyone is submissive or dominant in your relationship. There is no edge to the way you touch one another, just love. Limbs intertwine, hands touch and rub and hold; only Bucky’s cool vibranium gives away his identity, otherwise there is a playful mystery in the dark that you all choose to let remain until you kiss a mouth and smile figuring out that it's Bucky because his lips are full and pillowy soft while the fingers that calmly stroke your wet center are Helmut’s because they move in his confident, graceful way. And you find yourself thinking of something you really haven’t before.

Experience. It’s something the three of you have so much of and in so many different ways that you nearly forget one of you is technically a virgin.

Hard to imagine the man kissing you, the man who has been inside of you so many times is new to this, well a form of this. The thought makes your heart flutter with excitement as you feel the deft fingers leave you and Helmut gets up from the bed.

He doesn’t go far and you wonder what it is he’s gotten.

When you feel the weight of him dip the mattress and much closer this time, you open your eyes curious but realize it’s a little too dark and Bucky’s face is too close to see. You pull back wanting to catch a glimpse of what you think is happening as the faint scent of bergamot tells you all you need to know.

Bucky raises up, not far, but enough that the moonlight shines on half his face letting you see how his brows knit close together. His gasp is light. He does not exhale. You can’t see past him but you know that Helmut has been slowly nudging him closer towards his first time and you have been watching this man be readied for a moment that just a few days ago he never would have imagined— or maybe he has? Honestly based on the way he grinds his ass against Zemo when the three of you are lost in all sorts of lovely situations, you’d say he’s imagined it a lot more than he’s letting on.

He exhales and they moan together as you pull him down into a deep kiss.

Is that one finger or two?

“Would you like to come inside of her?” Helmut asks softly as Bucky breathes through the feel.

He hovers over you, eyes shut tight, licking his lips before moaning softly again “Yes.” He manages to say, and you’re so wet you think Zemo could have saved the oil.

Permission must come through some physical contact because you hear nothing, just feel him at your entrance and then inside of you. You can’t help but to moan and arch your back, your stomach pressing against his, your nipples brushing against his warm chest groaning as you give into the familiar size of him, opening your mouth with a deep sigh as your heart races knowing he is taking you while being had.

Between breaths you catch a glimpse of Helmut beside him —right hand flat on the small of Bucky’s back the muscle of his left forearm flexing rhythmically— his face is stern with concentration but his eyes are soft. He does love to make you both feel good. For all his bluster and demanding, nothing ever makes him so happy as pleasing you and Bucky.

The fact that you start to come so quickly is no surprise but the fact that you start to come together makes you look at one another. You smiling through the quick breaths, Bucky’s furrowed brow a sign of his shock but absolute pleasure. It’s too much for him in the best way as he rocks his hips, slowly thrusting deep into your body that clings to him.

You shut your eyes, your gasp mixed with a laugh and a cry as you come.

Bucky lays over you, his face tucked into the safe corner of your neck, so soft and warm where he moans heavily, climaxing in a way he’s never experienced before. You put your arms around him holding him tight and the sound he makes is the sound of a man who has just discovered quite a few things about himself.

He raises up, breathing hard, stunned and happy as he kisses you.

That was incredible for you both and together you quickly look over Bucky’s shoulder at Zemo who sits gazing at your faces in the dark…

#zemo x you #bucky barnes x you #winterbaron #winterbaron x you #zemo fanfic #winterbaron fic #helmut zemo x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #helmut zemo/james buchanan barnes #boys who love boys who love girls #oh to be so loved #sammich #cozy #yacht life

21 notes · View notes

sunflowerstache · 4 years

Text

Lifespan

A/N: Hello! This is very different from most of my writing, not only because its an OC, but because the storyline is just something out of my comfort zone. But I really hope you enjoy it(: I got the inspiration from a ad I saw on Facebook a long time ago lmao but yeah, come say hi once you’ve read it and tell me what you think! It’s much appreciated! I love you all so very much! Also hugeeeee shoutout to @devil-in-bw-the-sheets for spending like six months reading and re-reading this every single time I rewrote it and changed things and encouraging me each time! And @emotionally-imbruised for beta reading it for me!💛💛

Word Count: 7.3k

“Doll?”

The fog that seemed to have settled over your mind instantly melted away upon hearing the barista’s voice, her sweet drawl grounding your focus back on her. She was an older woman, probably nearing her sixties based on the collection of grey hairs scattered throughout her small ponytail. But still so incredibly full of life. She had red glasses perched atop her nose - which perfectly completed the red polka dots covering her black dress - a beaded chain dangling from the end to the front of the frame, a pair of silver peace sign studs resided in her ears, and the anatomically correct symbol for caffeine dangled in necklace form on her chest.

“What? I’m sorry.”

“Just asked if you wanted the cream on that.” She smiled, thin lines spreading out and away from the sides of her eyes as her mouth widened. Upon glancing down quickly, you took notice of her clearly hand drawn name tag filled with swirling letters - different then when you stopped by earlier in the week when she had used stickers to spell out “Rita”.

“Oh, um yeah sure. Why not.”

“My husband always says that during weather like this, the calories don’t count. That they disappear with your shivering. Can I just have your name, dear?”

“Georgie. And your husband sounds like a very smart man.”

“Oh, he is.” A dreamy look took over Rita’s features, like just thinking about the man made her heart race. “Been together for forty-two years and he still teaches me new things.”

Your heart ached with each word; the fog slowly started to creep back through your mind while you watched her grin fondly. The hope and excitement for the future that was always so very clear in people’s eyes was what made it so hard not to explain everything you knew, every secret you held. However, as much as you wanted to urge everyone to live the life they’ve always wanted, you knew there was a natural balance to life, and opening your mouth would undoubtedly throw that balance off. So instead, you grinned and nodded your head.

“He sounds wonderful.”

“My best friend. Counting down the minutes until the end of my shift. We’re heading up to see our grandbabies for the week.” It was like she knew exactly what kind of secret you were keeping and made sure to hit you where it hurt each time she opened her mouth. As if her being impossibly sweet didn’t hurt enough.

“That sounds nice.” Digging around in your bag for your wallet made it much easier not to focus on the ticking time bomb in front of you. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I know I can’t talk forever if no one stops me.” her laugh was soft, inviting, one you would love to listen to while storytelling. “It’s four pounds.”

“You can keep the change.” You said when handing her some cash, but stopped yourself before you turned to walk away. Even if you weren’t ever going to outright explain anything to anyone, slipping in tiny, reassuring comments made you feel at least a little better before parting ways. “Have an amazing night with your family Rita.”

The coffee shop was relatively empty at the hours you stopped by. Other than the same group of men that were there every morning, chatting over the newspaper and a black coffee and a young nurse who was just getting off of her night shift, only customers on their way to work stopped by. But that was just how you preferred it. It was much easier to avoid running into people when the sun had barely just peeked over the morning horizon. You suppose the city isn’t exactly the best place to reside when you’re on a mission not to get close to anyone, but you’d much preferred the hustle and bustle of the city than the silence of the countryside. At least here you were able to escape your thoughts when they got to be too much, out there you were left to drown in the weights you held.

Rita was right when she said the weather would bring shivering. The moment you stepped through the café doors, all sense of warmth you previously had was sucked out of you, leaving the tips of your fingers tingling against the warm cup. You hadn’t ever really gotten to know the woman behind the counter, a few kind greetings every now and again, but she seemed to be someone who brought a lot of joy to those around her. And she always put extra chocolate curls on your drink. You made a mental note to send some flowers to her family within the coming days.

It was a car horn that initially took your attention off of the pavement, turning to look for who was in such a rush at 5:30am, but the hard torso smacking into her shoulder is what brought your attention back. Followed by the searing heat of your hot chocolate spilling down your front.

“Oh fuck!” you yelled, immediately dropping the paper cup and trying to pull your shirt away from your body to decrease the chance of a burn. There goes your chance to get home and drive right to work without any issue.

“Oh my god! Oh shit!” the man that had ran into you gasped, stopping in his tracks and grabbing onto your elbow to steady your wild movements.

Even though his words were quite loud on the empty street, his voice was still husky, almost like he wasn’t awake yet and still had some left over sleep in his throat. And when you turned to look at who had ruined your shirt, your own voice got stuck in your throat. He was tall, which made sense considering your head had bounced right off of his chest. He was wearing black basketball shorts with tall white socks and a light grey hoodie, which was pulled up to cover the dark grey beanie resting on his head. With one hand he was holding a water bottle with ease, while the other was frantically pulling the airpod from his ear. But apart from his sheer stature, you couldn’t ignore how beautiful this man was. How even the worry lines littering his face were perfectly accenting his features. Or how the green of his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the Whole Foods you had been stopped in front of.

“I’m so sorry! Shit are you okay?” he quickly asked, shaking his head before you could even respond. “Obviously not, that was probably hot. Oh god I’m so sorry!”

Finally getting your bearings back, you couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah it was pretty hot.”

“Shit, I don’t even know how that happened. I must’ve taken my eyes off the pavement for one second. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” You chuckled, bending down to pick up your now empty cup at your feet and tossing it in the bin by your side. “Don’t worry about it. Really it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’ve ruined your shirt.” If the disappointment in his voice wasn’t evident enough, the small pout on his lips definitely was. He looked absolutely distraught at the sight of what he’d done. “Let me at least get you a new drink. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” You’d always known it was rude to speak to someone and not give them eye contact, it was something your father had drilled into you as a child, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Looking someone in the eyes meant seeing above their head, and that was an area you actively tried to avoid looking. But there was something about him that drew you in, and you couldn’t help glancing up at him quickly again. “I actually have to be getting to work. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“Positive. Have a good morning.” Your touch was soft on his arm as you made your way past him, leaving the mystery man standing on the pavement staring as you walked towards your flat.

You didn’t mean to be so short with him, but it’s just how you’d grown accustomed to living life. It was the easiest way you found not to get close to many people, which meant less hurt in the end. And you’d been around enough hurt in your short twenty three years. It may be a lonely life, but you were happy with your cat, comically named Lucifer, and living a simple life. Sure, there were times you wished you could live the carefree life everyone around you got to experience, your only issues being stresses of work or relationship drama, but that wasn’t who you were. After living the life you did, there’d be no way you could live a normal life.

“Don’t give me that look, Luci.” you grumbled when walking through your front door, your cat perched on the dining table just watching as you moved through the living room, ripping your destroyed shirt from your body. “This wasn’t my fault.”

You’re sure that you looked like a crazy person if anyone was watching on, talking to your cat while walking around your flat in nothing but a pair of black slacks and a bra. But you didn’t care, because this was your normal. You ranted to her after a long day at work or a particularly draining day, and she always sat and listened. Mostly because she was a cat.

“He just ran right into me, like he literally couldn’t see me. How odd, right?” you stopped briefly while searching your closet for a new shirt. “God Luci, he was cute though. So cute. And tall.”

Just because you secluded yourself in the world didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy taking a peak at what it had to offer. It was the forming relationships that put you off, not because there was a level of uncertainty - nothing was uncertain to you - but because you always knew the timeline of said relationships. It was always the same. So why put yourself through it? But also, why not? What if that was just what you needed to make such a painful existence a little more bearable?

“I didn’t even get his name. Maybe I’ll see him around the cafe sometime.” you hummed, throwing the new peach colored blouse over your head and peeking your face out of the hole. “No. No Georgie, don’t go there. Who are we kidding, it’s not like anything could ever happen anyway.”

Lucifer meows loudly at your comment., making you turn around to glare at her. Obviously she didn’t know what was actually going on, but it was nice to entertain the idea of someone listening to your problems and helping you talk them out. You were a secluded young woman, not crazy.

“What? Like I’m wrong? It’s not something I’d be able to keep from a boyfriend forever. And It’s not like I’d be able to just flat out tell them.”

She meowed again, jumping off the table and prancing her way to your feet, rubbing her side against your ankles.

“What would I even say? Hey, I was born with this thing where I can see a floating clock above everyone’s head that literally counts down to the day you die? Yeah because that won’t get me sent to the looney bin.”

From the start of time, there has always been a beginning and an end to everything. No matter if it was an Oscar award winning film, delicate relationships, or even life itself, it all ended. People come, and they go, but the world continues on; taking care of those who stay to see another day. And on a daily basis, the idea of the end rarely floats through anyone’s mind. Except for you.

For you, it was impossible not to think about when it was quite literally staring you in the face. For as long as you could remember, you walked through life with a different outlook on the end than most other people.It wasn’t because you had some near death experience, but due to a gift. Or at least what some people in the world would consider a gift, because in no way would you call being able to see the exact day someone is going to die, a gift.

It was something that over the years you had grown to ignore, trying not to look too far away from people’s eyes and never thinking too hard about the ticking numbers.They weren’t obnoxious or flashy signs hanging above everyone’s heads - like you had seen some films try and depict - but instead, just a simple, faint, white clock just above the tops of everyone’s head, showing each individual’s lifespan. No matter how many hours you sat down and tried to rationalize why you were able to see this, there was never any answer. No one else in your family carried the burden, and because of that, you never mentioned it to anyone in fear of sounding crazy. But you knew you weren’t crazy, not when you prayed night after night for those numbers to disappear or for someone’s clock to be wrong, only to be let down.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you finally saw your favorite florist Don after he spent some time away, and his clock suddenly read 3 years, 20 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 6 seconds instead of the 27 years you had grown used to seeing on him every day before he left. It didn’t take long for you to find out he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and treatments had stopped working.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you got to watch Kim’s clock - the very sweet receptionist at your job - begin to slow down the more she adjusted to a healthy lifestyle of eating right and taking care of her body. What was once a ticking time of a measly 21 years adjusted what would be a long and fulfilled 59 years more.

And you knew you weren’t crazy when at only seventeen years old, you watched as your best friend’s clock suddenly dwindled down to zero’s across the board like a slot machine while laying on the bathroom floor of a house party. The drugs in her system being too much for her young body to handle and completely consuming the 72 years she once had left.

You weren’t crazy, you just carried a burden no one should ever have. And because of it, you made sure not to get close to anyone in fear of watching yet another clock strike zero.

So you moved on with your life, forgetting all about the tall man who had spilled your drink and run into your mind, making you think things you hadn’t in so long, and instead, focused solely on getting through your days at work and getting back home. It was an easy routine, one you hadn’t strayed from much since moving to the city six years ago; wake up, feed Luci, get coffee, go to work, go home, shower, watch tv, go to bed. And as happy as you were that life wasn’t so painful these days, boring would be the only word good enough to describe your life.

Until your neighbors moved in.

You were standing in the kitchen, lifting the collar up to your mouth to try and quickly lick the hot sauce off the old, ratty Elton John Tour shirt you were wearing before it left a stain, wearing nothing else but some shorts, a nice pair of cheetah print slippers to cover your chilly toes, and one of the two hundred paper face masks you’d ordered off of Amazon in an attempt to clear your skin, when the loud bang on your front door startled you. Not only did your family not live in town, but your neighbors knew that you weren’t a people person. Ever since you made that very clear to them upon moving in, they hadn’t tried to contact you, so you just assumed whoever it was had gotten the wrong flat number.

But the knocking persisted.

Lucifer’s head had picked up from her lap upon hearing the first knock, now watching as you made our way closer to the front door. “What do I do?” but the only response you received was her head tilting to the right, like she was saying ‘Really? Answer it you idiot.’

You wanted to be angry, you really did, because you were nearly ready to be completely settled in for the night after a terribly long day and you just wanted to watch some bad tv with Luci, but the moment you twisted the door knob and peered into the hallway, any anger you had felt, completely washed away.

“Hey! Sorry, my mates and I-” he abruptly stopped mid sentence once his eyes landed on you, like his train of thought literally face planted into a brick wall. A look of realization flashed across his face quickly, and in a matter of milliseconds, what was once stress turned into a look of excitement. “Hey! It’s you!” he smiled.

“It’s me.” something about him made it very difficult for you not to mirror his smile, but that desire was overpowered by the confusion coursing through your mind.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again! I still feel terrible about what happened, are you sure you were alright? You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” The man was incredible at changing his emotions at the drop of a dime, for now his eyes were laced with concern where excitement had just lived. “Or I guess I should say I didn’t burn you, did I?”

He was much more put together this time, the workout attire you had last seen him in was traded in for a pair of light red slacks that looked to be a crushed velvet material paired with a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black vans. He looked like any university boy you’d see walking the streets, but at the same time, like nothing you had ever seen before. Something about him standing in your doorway brought you a sense of calm, like just his presence was enough to wash away the stresses of your day.

“I mean I can’t say that it felt particularly good, but I didn’t get burned, no.”

“Oh good. That’s good.” he nodded, and you made the mistake of following his hand with your eyes as he lifted it up to his curls to fix the glasses perched on his head. You didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what kind of fate the universe had in store for him because the peace he had brought to you in the few moments he’d been standing there felt better than anything had in the past few years. But you were never that lucky.

Your eyes quickly casted back down, looking back at the white of his shirt while you cleared your throat. “Did you need something….” you dragged out the end of the word to indicate that you didn’t know what to call him since he hadn’t bothered to mention his name.

“Oh, right. ‘M Harry.”

“Georgie.

“Hello Georgie.” if possible, the grin on his face doubled in size, causing two dimples to appear at the corners and the air in your chest to feel as though it was tightening.

The two of you stood in your doorway without saying anything for another moment before you spoke up; “So did you need something or…”

“Fuck, yeah.” his voice was breathy when he responded, standing up straighter, “My mates and I just saw you come home and we’re in desperate need of a needle and thread. You’ve got one?”

It only took a second for him to realize his words and that surprised look from when you first opened the door was back. His eyes widened and his hands raised in front of him as a way to stop you before you could respond.

“Not in a creepy way! We weren’t like watching you or summat, swear! My mates Niall and Louis just moved in across the hall.” using his thumb he pointed to the open door across the hall where you could see two other guys watching yours and Harry’s interaction. Upon realizing they were spotted, they raised their hands in a small wave. “We heard you come in. Not that we were actively listening! Just - ‘m sorry. I swear we aren’t creeps.”

“Good. Thought I’d have to sic my monster of a dog on you.” you replied, turning to dig through the small table in what could barely be considered an entryway. The table had started out as a place to keep your keys and mail, but like most did, quickly turned into a junk drawer. An abyss to put any and everything only to never see it again.

Harry’s eyes frantically looked behind you like some crazy monster was about to lunge at him for bothering you at night, even going as far as taking a small step back when the door opened a bit wider while you were looking for the tool. You laughed when glancing up quickly at the movement. It was obvious he was panicking at the new information of potentially getting mauled by a massive dog while simply asking for thread. So you put him out of his misery.

“There’s no dog. I’m just joking…”

As if on cue, Lucifer waltzed up to see what was going on at the front door, her small body weaving between your legs to get a nice scratch while checking out the never before seen man. “Oh! A cat! I love cats!”

“Yeah she’s pretty great.” you nodded, closing the drawer and holding your hand out to Harry. “Here you go. Um, not sure what colour you need so you can just take the whole bag.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you! Niall has a date in ten minutes and he’s split his only good pair of trousers.” he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the boys inside the other flat, trying to seem like they weren’t listening to the conversation, but very obviously doing just that. “Have to sew him in like ‘m some sort of tailor.” he chuckled, turning back to face you.

“Sounds like an exciting night.”

“Oh riveting. I would ask if you’d like to join but you look very busy-” the corners of his lips were trying hard not to curl upwards with the light sarcasm, wobbling a bit as he continued speaking, “-so I wouldn’t want to interrupt anymore than I already have. I’m sure I’ll see you again, I practically live with these two idiots.”

“‘M sure I will.” Luci hadn’t left your side since joining you at the door, instead, she began meowing quite loudly, so you bent down to scoop her into your arms.

You liked Harry, not only because he was a very obviously a good looking man, but because he seemed to pick up on your social cues fairly quickly. He didn’t linger and try to get as much out of you as possible or make the fact that you clearly didn’t have much interest in talking uncomfortable. And it was the first time in a long time that you felt content being around someone. Not fearing what the future brought.

Harry halted his movements halfway between flats and spun back around quickly. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you press kisses to Lucifer’s head while standing in the doorway. Something you gathered from the very brief times you’d shared an encounter was that Harry was not very good at hiding his emotions. It was almost like he had no control of his mouth, because you could see him try to stop the smile from spreading, but it was no use. The dimples popped out in full force.

“I still owe you for that coffee.”

“Oh, um not a coffee.” you tried not to be loud enough for him to hear, noting that the fact that it wasn’t a coffee was not really that important, but he heard you anyway.

“Pardon?”

“Just um, it wasn’t a coffee. More of a hot chocolate drinker actually.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead just continued watching you with fond eyes and a now very prominent smile. You felt as though he could sense how out of touch with relationships you had begun to get over the years. What other explanation could he have for being so soft with someone he had just met and barely even known

“Right, well keep your schedule open so I can take you out for that replacement cocoa.”

Your door swiftly closed the second he turned back around, not leaving any extra seconds for him to turn around and look at you again. And the second she heard the click of the lock, Luci leaped out of your arms and made her way over to the sofa, meowing her entire journey.

“Yes that was him.” another meow. “I told you he was cute, and I also told you nothing would be happening there.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said you’d be seeing him again. It seemed as though every day when you got back to your flat, he was there. Sometimes on his way out, other times just standing outside the door waiting for the other boys. And despite how at peace being around Harry had made you feel that day he came knocking at your door, you never put in much more effort than a “hello” here and there. He and the others had tried quite a few times to get you to join them on their night out, but each time you came up with a different excuse. Even if they were comforting, what was the point in forming that friendship when you knew you’d just isolate yourself again eventually. You had made it this long without getting too close to anyone else, and you weren’t going to start just because two attractive lads moved in across the hall who happened to have a very fit, very inviting, friend.

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that you actually had a full conversation with Harry again.

Typically you tried not to go to the coffee shop by your flat any later than lunchtime because it just got too busy. There were too many people for you to fully avoid them all and seeing too many clocks dampened your mood significantly. But you had already had a shitty morning and needed something to give you a boost.

The place had felt very melancholy since Rita’s unfortunate passing last month, she’d passed peacefully in her sleep while spending time with her family. You’d sent the family flowers as remembered, and also made sure to drop a few bills in the jar on the counter each time you’d been in the shop. Other employees were setting up a fund for Rita’s family since she was such a loved member of the community just with the joy she brought from behind the counter.

“Just a large hot chocolate for me, please.”

“For here or take away?”

“Take away please.”

“Actually she’ll have that for here, please.” a familiar voice behind you spoke up as you were digging through your bag for your wallet. You could see him out of the corner of your eye move from his spot behind you, to gradually standing next to you, looking directly at the barista behind the counter.

“Um..” you felt bad for the young kid, he couldn’t be any older than eighteen and all he wanted to do was get to work and get out. But here you were making his day more stressful than it needed to be. “So… for here then?”

“Harry I -”

“Come on Georgie. Please.” never in your life had you seen a grown man bat his eyelashes, but here he was, trying to lure you in with his breathtaking green eyes.

“Fine.” your voice came out soft and you rolled your eyes, but on the inside you felt giddy, like what you remember life to feel like before you started isolating yourself. “Um, sorry. I’ll have it for here I suppose.”

“Do you want the cream?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll have a -” Harry’s profile was something you could get lost in. How the tip of his nose seemed to bounce with every word he said, how it looked as if his lips were made to form the words falling from between them, or how no matter how many times he tried to get it to stay back, one of his curls would continue to break loose from the rest and fall past his forehead. From what little you’ve seen of it, Harry had a great sense of fashion. Comfortable. A brown teddy bear jumper was covering his upper body, sleeves long enough to gather just past his hands and torso short enough that you could see his white shirt peeking out from underneath, ripped black jeans, a pair of black chelsea boots, and those same tortoise shell glasses perched on his nose completed his look.

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

“You ready? ‘ve got a table back by the door.”

The two of you made your move to walk back towards the front of the shop, but you halted in your tracks when you saw that yes, he in fact did have a table waiting for him, but it was also being inhabited by the two boys you had seen behind him when he came to ask for thread. Neal and Liam? And a girl was sitting between the two as they chatted amongst themselves.

“Harry I don’t -”

“Come on, I promise we don’t bite.” Apparently you still didn’t look convinced because he leaned down to be at your eye level and stuck his lip out in a pout. “One drink. Please? I owe you remember?”

“Yes and you’ve already bought me a new one, thank you by the way, so you don’t owe me anything else.”

“I know.” the apples of his cheeks began getting pinker the longer he stared at you, “But I’d very much like to spend some time with you.”

Just like he did when he knocked on your door, his eyes widened and immediately seemed to want to backtrack what he had said. “Wait no, not in that way. In like a ‘hey I think you’re cute -’ no fuck that’s not -”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“One drink.”

The relief was instant on his features, his shoulders sagging and eyebrows un-furrowing at your words. “Good. Afraid my mates were going to start thinking I made you up.”

“I live across the hall, they’ve seen me.”

“Well yeah, but I talk about you so much they thi- I - fuck.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from between your lips. You may not have had many friendships or relationships of any kind, but you did know excessive rattling wasn't generally how people spoke to one another. “You babble a lot.”

“Only when ‘m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

Harry wasted no time in his response, taking a quick glance over to you. “Because I finally get to spend time with the pretty girl across the hall.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks had become something of a common occurrence when speaking with Harry. It wasn’t obvious if he knew what he was doing or not, but you couldn’t imagine someone like Harry not knowing how to flirt. Thankfully, however, someone from the table spoke up before you could dwell on his comment longer than necessary.

“Finally!” the man sitting at the end of the booth spoke. He was dressed very similar to Harry in color - a tan quilted shirt was hidden beneath a cream colored teddy bear jacket, and pleated brown trousers. The light facial hair stubbled along his cheeks made him look slightly older than Harry, but his complete baby face counteracted that.

Harry looked at you briefly, raising his eyebrows with a ‘what did I tell you?’ kind of look as he bent down to slide into the booth next to the other man. His style was much different than the other two, more streetwear. He was wearing black trackies and an old gray band tee under a denim jacket, baseball hat and the very apparent smell of cigarettes finishing off the outfit. Another difference with him was that he had a girl with him. What you assumed to be his girlfriend by the way her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand fell on her knee. She was beautiful, long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, only kept back by the fragile looking sunnies that rested at the top of her head. She was wearing a simple white top and a pair of white,black, and brown plaid trousers, both of which were overshadowed by the beautiful black Balenciaga jacket hanging off of her shoulders.

“Was starting to think you’d been lying about actually knowing her, Haz.” the one closest to Harry spoke, earning a light slap to his chest from the girl on his shoulder.

Harry disregarded all of their antics and turned to pat the seat next to him, indicating he wanted you to sit down, and he gave you a reassuring nod when you nibbled your lower lip between your teeth.

It was subtle acts like Harry letting you sit on the outside of the booth so you could make a quick getaway if needed that reminded you how easily he seemed to pick up on your social cues - even if you didn’t realize you did them. It made your chest tickle that even just from the two substantial conversations you’d had with him, Harry picked up on things you did.

“Piss off.” Harry chuckled, reminding you a lot of friendships you’d seen on tv where they all take the piss but it was easy to see that they all cared for one another. It was something you’d always been envious of while watching the world from the sidelines. “Georgie, this is Niall, Louis, and Louis’ girlfriend Eleanor. Everyone, this is Georgie.”

You were met with a chorus of hellos and you would’ve loved to just jump right into their conversation about the best places to get guacamole, just so that they knew you weren’t intentionally being rude to them. But not only were you not good at this conversation thing, but you also were still on edge about forming any sort of connection with these people. Apparently you should get used to Harry and his all knowing mind, because before you could excuse yourself from the awkwardness, he spoke up.

“So, how long have you lived in the building?”

Unprepared for the question, you froze for a second. “Oh, um going on six years now.”

“Impossible! What are you, like twenty? No way you’ve lived there that long!” Eleanor asked, her head no longer on Louis’ shoulder, instead she was sitting upright and looking directly at you. Of course, over the span of the years, you had gotten quite good at looking at people without really paying any attention to what was only visible to you above their heads, but it still made you uneasy. The best solution was just not to look at them at all. But these people, people who had no idea who you were a mere ten minutes ago yet were now welcoming you into their lives, made you want to work on avoiding the numbers. Because this was the most alive you’d felt in years.

“‘M twenty three. Be twenty four next Friday.”

“No shit! Alright well I’m coming over so you can teach me your skincare routine because you look flawless.” she gleamed, leaning forward on the table to jot down her phone number on one of the many spare napkins littering the tabletop.

“As much as I love a good skincare routine, let’s not skip over the more important part of that sentence. Your birthday is next week?” Harry asked, gently shoving his shoulder against yours and offering a kind smile when you glanced up at him.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I turned like eleven.” your parents used to throw you a party every year while growing up, a lavish over the top kind of party where all of your classmates were invited and family you had never even heard of pinched your cheeks. But as time went on and you didn’t give up your ‘ridiculous fantasy’ as your mother so kindly put it, they began to stop throwing the party. Now, you were lucky if they sent you a card on the day. Plus, celebrating your birthday alone is kind of a downer.

“You haven’t celebrated your birthday in over a decade?” Niall’s mouth hung open like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“Nope.”

“Well that just won’t do.” you may not know very much about the people seated around you, but the smirk on Louis’ face told you everything you needed to know. “We’re having a party.”

“Um, thank you. Really. But parties aren’t really my thing. Plus I’m working that day so…”

“Oh, where do you work?” Harry asked, thoroughly interested in where you spend most of your days.

“Good Samaritan.”

“The nursing home down on Adams?”

“That’s the one. I’m a caregiver.” when you first applied for the position, you thought you were crazy. For someone who doesn’t want to get close to anyone in fear of their untimely demise, you definitely went for a job exactly the opposite. But that was the appeal to you. Sure, it was terribly sad to see one of your patients pass, but in the time leading up to it, you knew exactly who needed a little extra love. It was nice to be able to remind their loved ones to visit while making routine phone calls, and to do things to make them smile in what only you knew were their last days. It was the only time you thought what you were born with was some kind of gift. The tiniest most unwelcomed gift.

“That’s wonderful.” Harry’s voice was gently next to you, like he was hanging on to every short word that you said.

“Well, we’ll just have a party once you’re done with work.” Louis shrugged, but held his hands up when you opened your mouth to remind him you didn’t want anything. “Not a party, a friendly get together with friendly neighbors and alcohol.”

That day in the cafe was the beginning to a new start for you.

Obviously Lucifer had to hear about everything that happened that afternoon, but she was there to experience it first hand when Eleanor came knocking on your door the following day. She got to watch as you bent over in genuine laughter at your shared banter. She watched from the kitchen counter as Harry came by with food one night, saying he just happened to order extra lo mein and heard you come home. And as the two of you sat in the living room watching Big Brother, talking about everything from your favorite color to why he majored in physical therapy in university. Luci got to watch you break out of the shell you’d worked so hard on forming around you, and even though you knew she couldn’t understand what was happening, you liked to think her frequent meows were those of encouragement.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The yells came from all corners of the room when you walked into Louis’s flat the following Friday, making your eyes widen and shoulders straighten. As much progress as you’d been making in your life, with branching out and slowly losing your fear of connection, it would take more than a week to crack down those barriers you’d built so high for so long.

“Thank you.” you laughed, putting down the bottle of wine you’d brought just in time for everyone to start surrounding you in hugs.

“Happy Birthday, love.” Harry’s voice was soothing in your ear, like a sense of relief in the overstimulation the other three had given you. You didn’t regret their company like you would have only a month ago, instead you welcomed the foriegn feelings. But it was still nice to have a moment of calm to fully process everything.

“Thank you Harry.”

“I hope it’s not too much. I told them to cool it on the balloons and confetti - especially since we all know I’ll be the one to pick it up in the morning.” he laughed, offering you a glass of wine that everyone else seemed to already be enjoying.

“No, no, it’s great. A nice segway from doing nothing every year.”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t celebrated your birthday in so long! That’s a day that should be celebrated by everyone!”that same look you’d grown to quite enjoy flashed over his features, his momentary distress as he realized he said something he wasn’t planning on sharing. But the look disappeared when he saw your knowing smile. “Don’t start.”

As promised, there was no party, per say. Everyone was just scattered around Louis’ living room telling stories about absolutely nothing that had everyone in stitches. It was the kind of party you’d always been envious of, one where mates could hang out and lose themselves in the company of each other. It was the first time you didn’t have a single thought about impending doom for more than an hour, a feit you would be sure not to forget.

Niall was laid out on the floor under the windows, a half empty bottle of rum in his hand and the other rested on his stomach, occasionally itching an invisible nuisance. Louis was seated in the arm chair directly across from Niall, a very buzzed Eleanor draped across his lap and the more the night went on, the less chances you had of seeing their faces separated. And Harry was seated next to you on the sofa, his arm hung on the back of the cushion in such a way that everyone so often you would feel the very tips of his fingers skim the exposed skin on your shoulder.

You wished you could freeze this moment in time, because a photograph or video would never do it justice. It was almost as if you were watching the night play out in front of you like a movie, not really in your body but watching from afar. Watching as the girl who hid herself from the world began to hatch, slowly cracking the hard exterior surrounding her. And you would do anything to bottle the feeling of pride that swelled in your chest knowing you had achieved that.

“Literally right in the face mate. No joke.” Niall cackled, his laugh a contrast in that moment; escaping his mouth loudly but carrying throughout the room softly. Taking off like a leaf blowing through the fall breeze.

“Georgie.” your name slipped from between Harry’s lips beautifully, like he was created for the sole purpose of saying your name over and over again; forever. “Alright?”

And sitting in the living room of Louis’ flat, listening to your friends’ wine induced giggles, looking at the most captivating pair of green eyes and curly hair that only whatever magical being that was above could’ve created, you were alright. You were so alright that the minuscule ticks of the clocks of your new and only friends, ticks you tried so hard to avoid paying attention to, almost seemed to disappear completely. Almost.

71 years, 2 months, 10 days, 3 hours, 16 minutes, 55 seconds. 68 years, 11 months, 3 days, 19 hours, 43 minutes, 2 seconds. 68 years, 7 months, 21 days, 1 hour, 58 minutes, 33 seconds. 62 years, 8 months, 9 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes, 2 seconds. 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, 23 hours, 34 minutes, 56 seconds.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you

386 notes · View notes

dropsofletters · 3 years

Text

that’s how people move

summary: dongyoung has learned how to blend in the background of the little shoe store he works in. no one cares about the wooden exterior, the shoes he makes or fixes, or about himself, really. it’s in the hopes of living a more luxurious life that he learns the world doesn’t have a meaning when it’s moving, but rather, when it stops.

title: that’s how people move

pairing: kim dongyoung x reader

genre: shoemaker!au ; assistant!au ; strangers to lovers!au ; slowburn!au

word count: 18,785

type: fluff ; humor ; romance ; drama ; angst

Around him, richness exists. Not in him, but in the buildings that create barriers around his tiny workplace. Some people like vintage and indie, but for someone like him, it just means tranquility…yet, not an accomplished dream. As he stares off into the tall white buildings from a window, his forehead resting against the woodened railing, Dongyoung wonders if he fits into the dreams, he had built for himself. Of being successful when thirty-something, of bathing in so much money that having a new car doesn’t seem like a luxury, and drinking a glass of champagne is just a beverage for him.

His calloused fingertips work against the leather of the shoes he is building, eyes training away from the scenery to let the sunlight bathe his skin in warmth. Instead, his mind goes back to making the boots stand out in excellence—as well as comfort, the heel tall enough to fit anyone, not too outstanding, but a classic nonetheless. Back hunched, he can feel every muscle aching as the perfectionist side of him brings out the worst in him, eyes burning at the early hours of the morning he is working on. For no one but a few clients, whoever still believes in shoemakers, or some companies who inherently want to resell their hard work.

Go back, as Kim Dongyoung, aged seventeen, and ask him if this is what he wanted for his life. If spending summers with his uncle, who was also a shoemaker, was going to build his life for his adulthood. Back then, he thought he was really going to get the scholarship he always desired, or that the money from his parents would last him a lifetime. It didn’t. The bird left the nest, only to end up in the only thing he would have never imagined himself doing. Sure, he’s good at it, but at what cost?

Seeing people move in front of the shop, every single day, and wonder if he’s going to be like them someday? Maybe, if he had been accepted into school, he’d be rushing into the kind of work he’d like. A producer, maybe, or even a manager. He’d be rushing through the streets with clothes far fancier than the ones he is wearing right now—pink t-shirt under a denim jacket and dark jeans—, but that’s only part of his imagination.

The clear wood of the flooring creaks under the weight of someone’s tall boots, and Dongyoung lifts his gaze to meet the only person that is always in this store apart from himself. There was someone else before, but the young woman had left the job because of college. Typical.

In between the tall shelves that display their shoes, and what they exactly work in, is Yuna. Thirty-two, thriving, living life in colors with recently dyed red hair and a twist to her body that makes the yellow dress on her body stand out. The roundness of her face has been reducing after the birth of her first child, with someone who she doesn’t hold any relationship with anymore. Still, she seems to be the happiest she has ever been, now with a life far more complete than she would have ever imagined.

“Dongyoung, straighten your back.” Yuna instructs, motherlike even when her daughter is only three months old. Her short hair falls on top of her shoulders, the dry ends capturing his attention as he squints his eyes at her. Yet, she knows him, before swords can make way through his lips, she speaks up. “I already have enough with one child, I don’t need a man child.”

“You’re not my mom. I already have one. Thanks.” Dongyoung mumbles, sewing the leather into the shoe as he waits for Yuna’s clear intentions. The woman rarely reaches him out of nowhere, and around this moment of the afternoon, she leaves to pick her daughter up.

“I’m going to pick Kaia up. Can you take care of the store while I’m not here?”

Truthfully, not a lot of clients come by around this time. Or ever, really. “Sure,” He conquers, because he doesn’t want to make Yuna feel bad, and part of him also wants her to be with her daughter. Kaia is the smallest little bean he has ever seen, with big rounded eyes and black hair that can’t seem to be controlled with a brush, or his hand, or even the oxygen. “Why do you even ask me if you know I’m going to say yes?”

“You’re a PMS queen. I’m asking just in case.” Yuna says after a heartbeat, picking up her long coat from the hanger before draping her arms inside of it. “Besides, a client booked an appointment with us, and I wanted to make sure you’re going to be here.”

Stopping his ministrations on the shoe, Dongyoung looks up from his work to talk to Yuna face to face. “A client? Those exist?”

A smack finally lands on his brown hair, shaking a smile away from him as well as ruffling his hair in the process. “And an extra rich client, at that. I want you to be good.”

“You only had to say money, and I was already set for being a good guy.” Dongyoung jokes around, licking his bottom lip in the process. The faint sound of a guitar plays in the background, coming straight from his playlist—and at her departure, Yuna must have remembered to put his music on—, and tranquility overtakes him. Maybe, after such a drought in the working area, someone will believe their talent. “But, why did they even book an appointment here? We’re always free.”

“The client is, apparently, rich enough to make me believe that we booked an appointment with them.” The words barely meet his ears as she opens the doors of the store, staring ahead for a second before fixing the bag over her shoulder. “Her name is April Lim. She is supposed to come here in an hour.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Dongyoung replies after humming the sound of the song playing in the background, giving a small, tight-lipped smile to one of his longtime friends. “Just go to your daughter.”

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye-bye, Dongyoung!”

When the door closes behind her, he immediately perks up. Staring around the room, he wonders about the twists of life, enough to rake a sigh out of his plethora of worries. The possibilities of ending up being a shoemaker for the rest of his life bite him in the ass. It’s not that he is unhappy, but this isn’t anyone’s dream. It’s not the kind of thing that kept him up at night with the excitement of living. Then again, the world knows what it is doing…and things will fall into place if he just earns his money rightfully and keeps working.

The needle goes through the leather, does a circle in the air, and enters from the other edge. Stormy outside but calm in his heart as his pink lips tut out the song that he can’t quite remember, but his heart recognizes as if it was his. Music does that, make us all into one and bring us to one story.

Minute after minute, the vase fills until he hears the door opening again, his back creaking under the weight of his quick motions when he welcomes the visitor with a glare. The first thing he notices is the long ponytail that cascades down the woman’s back, the black strands thick and perfectly straightened. The elastic is imperceptible, but her face is one to remember. Chic, elongated eyes; a small nose and thick lips. Her body dips in ways that has his eyes going down to capture a glimpse of the diamonds around her neck, the curve of her chest, and the way his imagination goes wild with the image of the perfect woman.

She’s the first one to enter, in a white button down that fits her perfectly and a skirt that stuns just about anyone with how expensive it looks. Behind her, however, someone closes the door with delicacy, the strands of her hair falling on her face and covering most of her features. From what Dongyoung can see, she’s far more simplistic—a pair of high-waisted floral pants and a typical black t-shirt. An agenda rests in between her hands, but before she could finalize her greeting—something along the lines of ‘good afternoon’—, the luxurious woman ahead of her speaks up.

“Afternoon,” She says, eyes barely noticing him and yet, feeling like they have shed every layer of his skin away from him. Dongyoung can’t help but stand up from his seat by the window, a smile displayed on his features as he bows to her. A dream woman. “Do you work here?”

“Yes. Kim Dongyoung. At your service.” He introduces himself, not missing a beat with the twinkle of his eyes and yet, he awaits a response that is far more enticing that whatever his client says.

“I’m April Lim,” The charismatic woman instructs as she crosses her arms over her chest, not forgetting to jut her chin towards the person behind her. “And that’s my assistant,” The name escapes her easily, as if she is used to calling out that name endless times in order to get things done. It wouldn’t surprise her; if he had an assistant, as well, he’d ask for far more things than he’s proud of admitting.

The assistant lifts the corner of her mouth. Snowflakes lay on her lips in the white speckles of her lipstick, glistening on the dim lightning of the shoe store. When he sees her from up close, he can see a few marks growing on her chin, and the half-moons that taint her skin in delicacy—birth-marks, perhaps, or simple moles. Far less chic than her boss, but somehow more dulcet. “April has been in the eye of the paparazzi lately, and she wishes to have her own pair of shoes. The least she wants is to seem…typical, basic.”

Dongyoung trails his eyes towards April, who has her arms crossed behind her back with ease. “That’d be impossible.” He relays on the sound of his voice but it comes out a bit breathy, the tips of his ears burning in absolute embarrassment. Jackass. “…But I’ll do my best, if you let me know your tastes, that is—”

April’s eyes don’t change; interest doesn’t part them from their usual stoic nature. Instead, behold of the adoration that everyone feels about her, she nods with an enigma at the tip of her being. “You’ll have to talk to my assistant. I’ve already filled her in with whatever it is that I want. I’m going travelling in a month from now and I need a new shoe wardrobe. For now. Right now, even better.”

With his Adam’s apple bobbing, he wonders if he’s incredibly annoyed or attracted to her bossiness. The assistant, however, becomes more of a picture for him now that he is about to be left alone with her—around her neck, she has a more simplistic necklace, a flower resting in between a clear heart, the petals remain long dead, but they fit her. The split-ends match her, as if there is too much time in this world to worry about everything, but she chooses to not worry about the simplicities of life. The intricacies, even.

“Okay. I will do my best…for you, miss.”

April looks at him up and down, as if studying every portion of him, before scoffing with a smile on her face. “You sounded like my assistant.” She replies, shrugging her shoulders after speaking with that lowered tone of hers, as if she’s seducing the air with the mere existence of her. Instead, she wraps an arm around her assistant, shaking her lightly. “Have fun, and go back to the building in less than three hours. I need to have lunch.”

It seems like she can’t even ask for food on her own. “I will, April. But I already ordered some Bolognese pasta for you, accompanied by your favorite wine.”

“Alright, thanks.” April pulls away with a swing of her feet, high heels clicking against the tiles as she puts her sunglasses up her face. Some people never show who they truly are—or all of us do, but April feels like a pair of eyes that stare at him from behind a wall. Tall. Endless. His hands try to dig into the surface of the wall to reach her, get her attention, but he falls down every time. “Nice talk.”

That’s how she leaves, the asphalt welcoming her as if she’s part of the city. Screw that. The first skyscraper ever created, so classical and beautiful that he can’t quite get used to her. His eyes trail behind her with the movement of her hips, not quite catching his bottom lip slipping in between his teeth until he hears the sound of someone clearing their throat by his side.

Oh, shit.

Right.

He has a client.

The first client in a while.

“Sorry,” Dongyoung recomposes himself, moving towards the main desk and picking up his leather agenda, the one he uses for sketching, before opening it in some random page. The yellow-toned pages have been forgotten by him these days, freestyling his work, but this project must be huge based on the kind of client he has just met. “Ah, what does your boss want exactly? How many shoes?”

“An entire new wardrobe. Around forty or fifty.” He jots that down, because it’ll take a lot of inspiration and some brainstorming for him to come up with that many shoe designs. He still wears his old, worn-out sneakers, and that’s not such a concept when he’s a shoemaker. “She loves chic clothing, but she wants to add some spice. Some uniqueness to her. I—Uh, I don’t know quite how to explain it…”

“Shoes are not such an important part of the outfit, I’m sure it doesn’t have to be super specific with explanations.” Dongyoung tries to shrug the matter off with a laugh, but the woman shakes her head.

“Shoes are everything.”

Instead, he chuckles again. “They are not.”

“Of course, they are!” She argues, clearly not the type to raise her voice, but leave an impression with that smile of hers. It’s not perfect—not quite as shiny as her boss’, but it’s so outstanding that Dongyoung has to take a second glance. Not his type, but not quite bad looking. “It’s the foundation of everything. What we step on. If they look wrong, they’re gonna be noticed. That’s enough for—” Instead of continuing, she sighs. “Cinderella.”

Dongyoung’s eyebrows become one when he frowns. “C—Cinderella? What?”

“Cinderella had her love story because of a pair of shoes,” She replies. “And a pretty pair of shoes at that. Imagine if Cinderella was wearing sneakers or, or—” Overexcitement takes up most of her voice. “I don’t know, muddy boots? Like, that’s not memorable, it’s not…it’s not classic. I feel like April wants her Cinderella moment.”

He may not be a prince, but he may give her just that if the chance arises. “If the shoe fits…”

She nods. “If the shoe fits.” Instead, she taps her finger against the top of those old agenda pages. “And I need her shoes to fit and be memorable to the paparazzi and fashion magazines if I want to do my job right.”

Dongyoung looks down at the piece of paper, fabrics, styles, memories of April coming up to him. If he does his job right, he may get a kiss or two, perhaps a date, something to hold onto from the diamond met woman he just met. “Mhm, we just need to think together. You know her. I know how to do my job. We’ll have some designs done so you can show her by the time you have to go back to your workplace.”

Resting her elbows against the desk, all her teeth are shown in her smile, nose scrunching up and that cuteness doing something to lift his eyebrow. Surprisingly, enough to capture his attention. “Okay, let’s start.”

“Yes.”

The pages of that agenda had never been quite as filled, and the dim shoe store feels as though it can revive from the death again.

###

The first time she lied, her tongue itched so badly it rolled onto itself, and her cheeks hollowed with the feeling of disappointment. It’s the sensation of not knowing if her reality is the same as her dreams, and if what happened was only part of her imagination. It’s the hope that it was, or that the lie suffices to keep the happiness in her life. People lie. People lie. People lie, she tells herself.

And they do.

Just like how she lies to April’s boyfriend whenever he calls, his baseball cap falling so low on his forehead that he doesn’t realize her cheating ways from far away—too separated while they are the most together, they have ever been. She lies to the world when she waits for the train and feigns like she isn’t anxious of losing her train. She is. Everyone looking at her would think she is just another worker that lives with educational knowledge that she uses to serve someone else, headphones pulled so far inside her ears that she feels like she becomes one with the Italian music she is listening to today. As if the flowers bloom around her, the claps and rasps of life simply tell her to let it be. To lie, but never lie to herself.

She lies when she says she has it all together—as if the rebel in her doesn’t tell her to simply ruin something for once. Make a mess of the job she has, not serve April as often as she does, not being there all the time. Learn a new language, the language of being free, but she doesn’t. Instead, she pulls her earphones down, eager to get inside her train ride and get to her office as soon as possible.

She needs coffee.

She needs to hear the stories of her coworkers, with dating lives and kiss-and-tell stories.

She needs to smile again, even if it’s a lie.

Rolling her tongue, she hears the melodious tone of someone singing. It’s a male’s voice, but it’s both exciting and shrilling at the time that she hears it. Six in the morning, with a beige cardigan draped over her body, sleep-ridden and missing her bed. Her hair messes itself up even more when she turns around, footsteps resounding against the tiles, the almost-empty space about to be filled once the work hours arrive. For now, it’s just her and Mr. I Fall In Love Too Easily.

Song dedicated to her when she was fourteen, and she dated one of those poetic boys in class that hadn’t even read a single book in their lives. First kiss with too much tongue. Her mouth always ended up feeling as if it was drowning in saliva, and it wasn’t exactly hers.

I fall in love…too easily.

I fall in love…too fast.

The voice becomes closer, breathy, accompanied by soft nods of the man that sings and by the time she whispers out the continuation, she realizes the face is not quite as foreign as she imagined. The world is so big, and so small at the same time. Feverous to make people connect, to have some drama, some spice, some touch to touch moments. “I fall in love terribly hard.”

The gray walls contrast the existence of him, the dark bags under his eyes, the tussle of his equally as dark hair. Dongyoung, from the shoe store, so memorable and yet, so unfitting to be a part of her imagination. When thinking of the men that would make her heart flutter, she thinks of opened button downs, kisses down her neck, a cigarette in between his lips and the scent of flowers clinging to him. Dongyoung, on the other hand, feels like a rejected nine-to-five worker. Someone whose time came around too early, and he had to pick whatever he was good at.

But she’s just judging.

And suddenly, she’s looking into his eyes, his brown eyes recognizing her and saying her name into the air as if it’s a greeting. As if, for once, she has become the universal word of beginnings. “I didn’t know you liked Sinatra.” He says, and she has to cover the width of her beam, the one thing she has always felt insecure about. Too strong. Too out there.

“Well, you don’t know a lot of things about me apart from me being April Lim’s assistant.” She replies just as the wind starts blowing on his face. The strands of his hair don’t curl, but they push back enough to showcase his forehead, void of lines of stress and oldness. Instead, he gives a smile, staring ahead with a purpose so dull it almost feels like he isn’t living.

“That’s already something,” Dongyoung starts, tightening his hold against the straps of his backpack. “How’s April?”

With legs opened like a door, perhaps, sedated by sex—by the lies she has telling everyone. That her meetings come around late not because she is dating some good for nothing, but because she is working too hard. That she enjoys the presence of most of her investors, when she actually doesn’t. April Lim is one of those businesspeople that will make a living out of nowhere—they know how to live life, how to play it as if it was Monopoly and everyone around them are just pieces that move for her. Whether they end up in good places or not doesn’t fall on her shoulders.

“Fine, as always.” After all, this is what she has to do: lie for April Lim.

“I’m glad.”

“…And how are you?”

Dongyoung lifts his gaze at that, finally sparing her a glance of those pretty brown eyes. The shade reminds her of her last date’s eyes, but far deeper than she could ever explain. As though he holds the answers of the universe in just one simplistic twinkle of his eyes, putting NASA to shame with the discoveries he has done. “I could be worse, so I’m alright.”

“I didn’t know you woke up early to go to your job.” But, what would she know about him when she had only met him last week?

“You don’t know much about me either.”

“Now I know you wake up early.” She jokes, and the swoosh of the train arriving doesn’t pull her attention away from the tension in Dongyoung’s eyes. This is the kind of man she tries to pull away from—or, rather, she tries to pull away from all men. They’re creators; like to pull pieces together only to tear them down after and try to build something new. They never give up on just destroying everything at their reach. “That’s my train.”

With a pull of his backpack, he trails right behind her after saying those words. “It’s mine, as well.”

“It’s weird how I’ve never seen you here.” She adds after taking a seat on the brown leather seats, welcoming the coldness that seeps through her sweater. Her fingers tangle her earphones around themselves to get them in a nice circle and being able to fit them inside her bag. “Are you sure you’re not following me?”

Instead of taking the joke, Dongyoung’s eyes widen in a movie-worthy way before shaking his head. “I—I would never. I had also never seen you here.”

“I’m joking, Dongyoung.” She replies with a swat of her hand, so different from one another even in the way they sit. Dongyoung is more upright, while she lets her back hunch and her legs part, taking up some space.

“Oh.”

“Yes.” Instead of lingering in the awkward silence, she turns to look at him, inspecting his nose—it fits his face nicely, giving him almost a prince-like look. If a prince was as obstinate as he seems to be. He gives the vibes of what once was a class president. “How are those designs going? You only have four more days left until you show the first few shoes to April.”

Clearing his throat, Dongyoung doesn’t seem to be used to working under pressure. “It’s going fine. I’ve been working like a dog, hence why I’m up early.” He replies, putting his backpack over his long, slender legs before huffing. “I hope she likes them.”

One could say that if Dongyoung creates shoes with as much diligence and perfection as he sings, then there shouldn’t be a problem. “I’m sure they’re fine, come on.”

“Yeah, but I want to make a good impression.” There, the tip of his ears become a crimson red, a fever rising upon him but never breaking a sweat. She has to squint her eyes then, wonder and wonder why it is that men always fall for people like April Lim. She’s nice, don’t get her wrong, and awfully good looking for how much she works—but it’s strange how most people feel attracted to certain types of individuals. There is a set line of rules that we never talk about as society. “…Ah, is your boss single, perhaps?”

There it is. Intentions in the form of positions of a chess game she never takes part of. “Not at all. She’s dating a baseball player—”

“Huh?”

“Yeah…”

Dongyoung chuckles at himself, though she can see the strain on the muscles by the side of his face. “Right…yeah…it’s obvious someone like her would be dating.”

“For five years.”

“Oh, five years…” Dongyoung has to cover his face then, laughter taking over him in a way that covers up his embarrassment. “Let’s forget we ever had this conversation.”

“Forgotten.” She says, for she knows this feeling all too well. Men who never settle. Men who get tired. Men who try, but then don’t. Men who would rather have a thousand nights out than spend one with her own presence. Men are difficult. Women are, as well. People have decided to make matters worse for the world—apart from the obvious of being the own destroyers of the place they live in—by creating the world of dating, of kissing and telling, of so many other things like one-night stands and marriage. Two people rarely want the same thing. “But I can’t forget about your voice, though. Where did you learn how to sing?”

Changing the conversation works for him, leaning his weight back on his seat before sighing with a smile on his face. “I asked my mom to sign me up for singing classes when I was a child. I dropped out of it when I applied for college.”

“Wait—you didn’t study anything music related?”

“If I did, would I be making shoes?” He asks, rhetorical, sarcastic, much like him in a way that she doesn’t know yet. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders. “I got denied, over and over again. Had to spend some summers with my uncle who taught me the art of shoes, and now I’m here.”

“Shit, I see…” She whispers, though he doesn’t miss a beat to ask—

“And how did you end up being April’s assistant?”

The memory burns her, not once thinking about what she wanted in her life, wishing to travel but never planning it, letting herself drown in the uncertainty of living one day at a time. The future came around and it drained her of energy, leaving her in a wandering hell of seeing everyone continue with their lives after high school and college. The smoke of not finding herself, even when she is in her own body, led her to have someone else take the decisions for her. “My sister had connections and she needed an assistant. That’s what happened.” And she fell, hard, deep, in a way that she feels she may never raise herself from. But she tries not to think about it—overthinking stops her from living, and yet, she isn’t living at all.

“I see,” Dongyoung replies. “It must be a nice job.”

It isn’t. “…Ah, could be better, but it could be worse as well.” She answers. “It’s not my position to judge life for bringing me here. Maybe, this part of my life has to teach me something.”

Dongyoung scoffs at her words, so different yet bringing a smile up to his face. “You really think that way?”

“Life always brings us down for a reason,” She says. “It’s not about drowning, it’s about learning how to breathe underwater.”

Even though she feels like she will be erased some time in her life, and she won’t be needed by anyone for more than a week instead. She serves the world, only for it to mock her instead. Breathing underwater ignites her lungs and her nostrils in absolute pain, but it’s what life is. “That’s wise.”

“That’s life.”

And talking life with Kim Dongyoung for the rest of the ride until she had to get off is exactly what she does, for she sees the figure of him, hypothetical at that, lifting his chin over the water to breathe again…and somehow, it feels like he will.

People like him are perseverant.

People like her are liars.

###

Hating. Wanting. Loving. What’s the difference?

It’s in the eyes. The only part of our soul that can’t give itself the benefit to lie, and those who dare lie with their eyes have mastered the art of never feeling quite the same again. When he sees the people getting out of the building that belongs to no other than April Lim, he discovers she has created a guard of zombies that protect her, work for her, and do anything in their willpower to end up in her good list. The only list to ever exist, if he’s honest, for the suitcases that follow after him, all filled with shoes that she has to try on as soon as possible, resound against the pavement and remind him that he is, indeed, attracted to a woman of power like her.

The kind of person he always imagined himself to be. Dongyoung has kissed around twelve people in the entirety of his life. Five out of those, he liked being around of. The only girlfriend he has had, however, ended up being someone he couldn’t quite reach out for every time he wanted—she was too busy living her youth, partaking on parties, visiting malls to spend every penny that entered her bank account, twenty and ready to die hypothetically, exist socially, and live in a limbo of not knowing who she is and changing with the passing of time. She was expensive, like everything Dongyoung liked, he would be lying if he said he’s not a lover of a nice perfume, a floating skirt, and a smile behind a nice set of red, lipstick-covered lips. That, however, doesn’t make or bend it all.

The marble tiles welcome his weight once he is inside, and the receptionist is monotone when she talks to him. Her bubblegum pink nails tap against the keyboard as if she’s losing time by breathing, and with a quick check of his name in April’s itinerary, he is put inside an elevator and pushed to the highest floor in the skyscraper. Everything seems to be made out of greeneries, no matter how faux the entire building is. Walls in gray tones, but with hints of aquamarine, the elevator moves and he can see glimpses of the other offices—with plants, flowers, though probably not real. It’s the essence of April Lim—everyone wants her, lives for her, and yet, no one realizes just how made up she can be. How people like her move.

Dongyoung is feverish like a future like the one he sees in front of him once the elevator doors open. A big office that only belongs to her, consisting of desks in green tones that don’t belong to her but to the people that work for her. The more he moves beside the selected worker to lead him to April Lim, the more he realizes every desk includes a piece of the person that works there. Family pictures for some, others have a package of cigarettes, when he passes by one of them he can hear a song in French, moving and dance-like, yet too soft to capture anyone’s attention. Only when he gets to the last desk, he realizes everyone has their personalities but none like hers. None like April Lim’s assistant.

Her hair twists up messily, barely held together by an elastic, a few strands standing up in protest. A thin layer of sweat pools at her forehead, welcoming her eyebrows as she moves with diligence, organizing everything on her own desk, with the same plants as the others, if not more. Dongyoung catches a glimpse of the black tea package on top of her work spot, the same as the one she has poured on a cup with flowers wrapping around themselves. Sunflowers, he notices, probably her favorite flower. The air smells like incense, or probably it is just her scent, the collar of her white button down accompanied by the same flowers on her cup. It’s as though she’s a mood breaker, a ray of sunlight in this peaceful rain.

The young man that had been leading him inside the building finally looks up from his phone, clearing his throat at the assistant in front of them. “Here’s Kim Dongyoung, he has brought Mrs. Lim’s shoes.”

“I know who he is,” She answers, playing it cool by extending her arms over her head and fixing her bun with the littlest of precision, soon after fixing the waist of her beige pants, hanging loosely around her hips, leaving little to nothing to the imagination. “Dongyoung, how have you been?”

“Busy, thankfully.” Dongyoung replies, sparing one glance towards the young man and just about to say the typical ‘thank you’, but his voice is cut off when he takes off with his phone at hand. “God, is everyone in a mood in this building?”

“They are.” She replies, unlike April Lim in the way her rosy lips wrap around themselves to lick them up before taking a sip of her tea. “That’s why I drink so much tea. Stress-controller, baby.”

The sound of the nickname has Dongyoung lifting his eyebrows. Mhm, so there’s some confidence to her. Old-school, but completely different from what one would think of April Lim’s shadow, or what April wants her to be, actually. “I can’t do that.”

“Can’t drink tea?”

“Can’t control my stress.” Letting go of the suitcases, he takes the seat across her desk, sparing one look around the office. People immerse themselves on their jobs, not once listening to them, and if they do, they’re not paying attention. “It’s difficult not to be stressed when people are annoying ninety-seven percent of the time.”

“Welcome to the three percent.” Her tone is playful as she takes a seat on her chair, extending her legs long enough for them to briefly caress his. Though, the action flees before he can actually pay attention to it. “Stress can’t do anything to you if you don’t let it.”

“We’re a little bit too late for that conversation.”

“Dongyoung, you’re young.” She replies, dragging her voice the slightest as she lulls her head back, looking up at the ceiling with her train of thought invading her. “You’re going to end up old, wrinkly and bitter, and possibly with hypertension, if you don’t just let things be.”

Dongyoung chuckles. It’s the same with people who don’t worry—with those who didn’t have their lives absolutely destroyed by the turns of the world. “So, how do you do it?”

“It’s not only the tea, actually. I’d have to have edibles along with my tea in order to let things be all the fucking time.” The thought has a genuine smile appearing on his face. For someone who lives under someone’s shadow, she can clearly make a conversation and grasp anyone talking to her by the face in order to give all their attention, undivided, to her. “But,” She rests her cheek on her palm, threading her fingertips through her hair. “I just like to believe everyone has a happy ending, or at least, everyone who deserves it.”

The clock ticks on her desk, reading five minutes past the time he should’ve met up with April. It’s eleven and five, and he can’t bring himself to care. Instead, he tilts his head to the side. “That’d be the ideal, but I doubt it’s actually true.”

“We don’t know,” She says. “And I think that’s beautiful. It’s better that we don’t know what happens to everyone, or what happens after we die. It gives us the opportunity to make the most out of what we have…to enjoy what we have and realize that the only time we can truly choose if we’re happy is when we’re alive.”

Balance is what he takes out of her, pensive, eradicating everything that has ever existed to create something that would have never crossed his head. Instead of pondering about it, Dongyoung tries to protect his own believes—you see, it’d be a little bit too happy for everyone to get the grand ending they want and need. “Did you happen to major in philosophy or something?”

“Not really,” She argues back, softly. “If we’re getting technical, I pushed away the thought of my future until the future got to me and oh boy, I didn’t even know what I was going to do with my life.”

“Don’t we all?” Dongyoung asks, soon after shaking his head with a laugh. “I got denied from university, so…”

“Oh.” She answers, voice shaped in a perfect ‘o’ that captures his attention. Okay, so maybe, her cuteness is her charm. “Honestly? Fuck university.”

“Your tea should work with that anger issue.” Dongyoung jokes around, only to earn a smack on his shoulder and the biggest grin on her face.

“It’s called reality.” The retort follows her statement. “Do you know how many people stress out about getting to university, going through university or, just not going through it, or going through it and failing? Like, it’s insane. It’s truly the worst thing ever.”

“But it’s life.” He vaguely remembers her voice telling him so, and she seems to reminiscent the words she said in the train.

“But it’s the awful part of it.” She pushes her fingers together, making circles with her index and thumb, raising the three resting digits before sighing. “And that’s why I do breathing exercises, just so I don’t think about it.”

Dongyoung looks around, and yet, no one seems to pay attention to quite clearly the most interesting person in that office. “And you don’t feel ashamed?”

“I don’t.” She shrugs. “I’m going to die anyway, but at least, I’m not going to die of breathing problems.”

The main door glides open and a man appears instead. Dongyoung is not one for gossip, neither does he know every celebrity in this planet, but he is sure he knows that face…or that voice, rather. One of the singers in his playlist rubs his reddened lips to hide the glimpses of dark red—to no avail, clearly—, plush lips even plumper by the time he makes his way towards the elevator and away from the seas of wandering eyes. April Lim is supposedly dating a baseball player, but it must not be the only man by her side.

“Oh, my shoes!” Are the first words she says after tucking her shirt inside her skirt, pushing her hair off her shoulder to show bitten lips, filled with sin. It’s a wonder why most people look at her and never realize the malice in her, but they don’t realize that the most beautiful companion she has had by her side is none other than her assistant, clearly aware of the situation and giving her a tissue to wipe the smeared lipstick off her face, one April takes gleefully. “Come inside, we have much to talk about and shoes to try on.”

Dongyoung finds himself stopping for a second, looking over his shoulder towards the assistant—the one that clearly interests him more, whose presence alone can make him feel as though a new world exists beside his own, and it’s not terrible at all. “Don’t you want to come in?”

She lets her hair freely fall at that moment, eyes glistening when she smiles, tight-lipped and beautiful, yet so real, and she says: “It’s not like I wasn’t going to come in either way. I have to see what you’re made of, Dongyoung.”

“Of talent.” He replies just as he walks behind her, the door shutting off at the same time that she replies to him.

“And much more.”

###

Fifteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds, read on an ignited sign that is not normally there on that building, but it’s there for everyone to see from nearby. Restaurants, parties, houses, all celebrating the start of a new year alike, with hope and need of a new start…or fearing what that may include, who knows.

Most of her friends are guys—it comes with the fact that she may have grown up while being in the soccer team, or perhaps because most of her female friends made plans for New Years, and did not procrastinate until the last minute left her alone, away from her family and definitely trying to make-do with what she has. Drinks sit on the table in front of them, the dark colored surface welcoming the perspiration of the shots. Taeyong, who has downed his sixth beer since he got to the restaurant, now lays his head on her shoulder with reddened cheeks and messy gray strands falling on his forehead, though the smile on his face doesn’t leave him, no matter how nauseous he is.

Sicheng clicks his tongue from his own side of the table, taking a sip of his piña colada with his excellent alcohol intake. After all, he doesn’t down his drinks in one go. “I told you not to let him drink them all in one go.” He spares one look her way, the only person by Taeyong’s side, since Kun is too busy fighting his girlfriend over the phone, and Johnny has, since then, gone straight towards a stranger woman’s arms to get his New Years Eve kiss. He doesn’t give that much importance to it, apparently.

Kun continues typing on the phone, with one hand alone, and the furrow of his brows tells her that he is probably having another one of those arguments about going out with his friends. Something about Johnny just doesn’t sit well with Kun’s girlfriend, and it feels absolutely annoying. It’s not like Johnny would incite Kun to cheat, after all. Or maybe, she’s jealous about the fact that she’s with them? Meaning, a female? “Taeyong,” He swats his hand in the air to capture the man’s attention. “Stay up for a little bit longer, let’s celebrate the New Year, and then I’ll take you back home.”

“I—I’m okay!” Taeyong cheers from his spot, rubbing his cheek against her uncovered shoulder, the pink fabric of her shirt would have otherwise been stained by what she considers must be drool on her skin. “I…uh…I just want to throw up, okay? I need to—” His words are cut off by a gag, and her motions are far too rapid, reaching for the bucket by Taeyong’s seat that had once been filled with beers and ice, but may now be filled with Taeyong’s vomit. The action is quick enough to get the bucket to his mouth, emptying his stomach in one go, but the gasp that comes from Sicheng doesn’t mean good business.

Kun’s eyes are widened by the time she takes a seat again, working on taking off his blazer with quick motions as he shakes his head. “Oh no, oh no, oh no—”

“Wait, what?” She asks by the time Kun puts his hands on each side of her waist, wrapping the red blazer around her body with ease before covering his face with his hands. “What? Why are you covering me with your blazer?”

“I just saw your ass, oh my fucking God!”

“My…ass?” Her voice tries to comprehend the situation she is in. Rewind. Taeyong was throwing up, or on the verge of throwing up, meaning she had reached for the bucket and leaned down over his body to get to it. The pants she is wearing are the tightest she has worn—a gift from April that she couldn’t quite miss, and according to Johnny, the reason as to why she is going to get the attention of the world just by wearing them. Her legs looked nice, and she had paired it with an off-the-shoulder pink top that she hadn’t worn in years. That much she knows. Though, she doesn’t know why Kun would look at her ass. “…Okay, you checked out my ass? That’s what you’re saying?”

“No!” Even through the pink and red lights of the dim restaurant she can make out the blush on his features, only more noticeable with his brown hair sleeked and pushed back.

“Kun!” Annoyance fills her tone this time around. “Can you just be clear for once?!”

Kun is not the clearest of men—someone of action? Yes, but not quite the frankest of people. Sicheng, however, prides on his silence and even more on his short-coming answers. “You ripped your pants and I am sure anyone close enough can see your ass.”

Oh no.

Fuck.

“Whose ass is out?” Taeyong asks softly, eyes widened as innocence overtakes his features, almost like he is offended at those words. She stands up from her spot then, looking around to see any pairs of eyes lingering on her. None at the moment, and whoever did notice has done a good job at hiding it.

“Mine.” She whispers, humming out as she tightens her hold around Kun’s blazer. “But I can’t keep this, Kun.”

“Why not?” Kun asks, playing with the collar of his black button down before she raises an eyebrow.

“You’re arguing with your girlfriend. It’s only a matter of time until she decides to come here, and if she sees me with your blazer around my hips, she’s going to think—”

“Oh,” The brown-haired male shakes his head. “She’d lose it.”

“I didn’t bring a jacket with me.” Sicheng replies, tugging at the fabric of his white sweater before looking over at Taeyong. “Did you bring a coat, Yong?”

Taeyong finally lets go of the bucket in between his hands, sighing deeply while he shakes his head. “It didn’t go with my outfit.” And he’s right, the shirt he is sporting is wild enough with its pattern for it to be paired up with a coat. “What about J—Johnny?”

“We won’t find him here.” Her eyes scan the seas of people, those who are eating, those dancing, and those drinking. They are all bundling together, enough for her to lose the tall friend that must be somewhere in there, making out with a stranger. Life is never easy for her, shit. “I’ll go to the bathroom and see if I find a way to fix it, don’t worry. I’m sure some girl will pass by and feel bad about me.”

She’s already tugging at Kun’s sleeve, pulling him up with her as he speaks. “But, there’s only seven minutes left on the clock.”

“I can’t receive the new year with a hole on my ass!”

“Well, your ass already has a hole, doesn’t it? Now you’ve got two.” Kun asks lowly, trying to ease the tension but only leaving her with a furrow of her brows and a scrunch of her nose. Making her way through the groups of people, she only spares Kun a glance when she unwraps the blazer from around her waist before placing both hands on her bottom. “I’ll try to find a pair of pants for you.”

“Don’t—Really, I’ll fix it. Just…wait for the countdown with the guys.” Opening the door while hiding her back, Kun is about to say something else before she pointedly threw a glance at him. The least she wants is Kun’s girlfriend somehow using her spider senses to smell her perfume on his blazer. People will be their own weird ways in the oddest of situations. “Okay?”

Kun calls out her name various times, drowned with the noise of the music and the door closing behind her.

Bathrooms are not normally a place she scans with precision. She is a woman of observation, but not quite a detail person to be exact. The white tiles remind her of a horror movie, but suddenly, her heart picks up with the realization of a numerous, turmoil-worthy matter. Urinals scatter around the walls, clearly not necessary in a women’s bathroom, but a clear indicator as to why Kun was calling out her name.

The mirror instructs her to look at the back of her black pants, the big slit leaving her butt-cheeks on display, as well as her white panties. Cursing internally, she closes her eyes tightly, sitting down on the counter in hopes of being alone. But something about the God of destiny suddenly playing with the timeline of her new year has one of the cubicle’s doors opening, the sound of someone flushing the bathroom accompanying the gasp that comes soon after.

Manly.

Yeah, that’s a man.

And she should really open her eyes, but what is she supposed to tell him?

Hey, dude, uh, my pants ripped, I accidentally got inside this bathroom and I really don’t know what to do…?

May I please have your pants?

Okay, no. That’s a real fucking red sign.

Her name is called in a deep vibrato, one that shakes her with the memories of the past month. Black tea. Stress. Dongyoung comes around with new designs for shoes, filling April’s wardrobe but never quite meeting her expectations. It’s more work for him, as well as more money, but she can’t quite go past that stage of respect towards one another as workers of April Lim.

When she opens her eyes, she curses herself for not liking the preppy ones. Really. What’s so fucking wrong with some tastelessness? It doesn’t always have to have clear spice for it to taste nice, right? For, Dongyoung is ready to steal the night with a few strands of his black hair resting on his forehead, the rest pushed back, straight eyebrows defined and almost reaching his hair-line with how far up they are in surprise. His dark eyes would be an enigma had he not been so confused, but his lips become the owners of his look, two triangles on his upper lip that invite her to get lost. Bermuda be damned when Kim Dongyoung has those soft, thin, yet appealing lips.

“What are you doing here?” Dongyoung asks, confused, though not once stepping back and it’s even worse to look at him from up close. A ‘v’ neckline black shirt rests under his black blazer, an elongated necklace with a key pendant resting just above his heart, and damn, maybe it’s the ounces of beer inside her body speaking, but what would she do just to have the key to that soul. Instead, her eyes trail down to his toned thighs under black pants. Pure and a sin, God will only know.

The truth is not something she tells often, but with Dongyoung, it’s difficult not to. “I ripped my pants because they’re too tight.” Those words don’t even digest well on him before he is chuckling, hiding his laughter behind his palm. “In my defense, though! I didn’t buy these pants. April insisted that they would make my ass look great, and now look at me!”

“I mean…it probably made your ass look great…because everyone looked at it.” Dongyoung conquers, crossing his arms over his chest before scoffing, never once stopping the laughter that creeps up on him. “You did that minutes before the new year?”

“You took a dump minutes before the new year?”

“No. I just don’t trust urinals,” Dongyoung states as if it’s a political stance. “And for a reason. Anyone could walk in and look at my penis. You would have looked at my penis had I not decided to lock myself in a cubicle and have my privacy.”

Releasing a sigh, she rests both her hands under her thighs, swinging her legs while seated on the counter. “True.” She answers, looking at him for the briefest of seconds, studying his expression before speaking up again. “Want to help me or do you have to rush to have your New Year’s kiss?”

“I don’t like having someone for the holidays.” Dongyoung replies with ease, taking off his jacket with ease before shaking it off harshly to get the wrinkles away from it. As if there are any, but Dongyoung details life as if it’s a puzzle game. “You get too attached, and then, it all falls down. I’d rather not lose my time.”

“Harsh.”

“Do you have someone?”

“You see, I wish I had someone.” She replies, watching as he extends his jacket towards her and she takes it with certain fingers. Their eyes don’t disconnect as she speaks. “But men are creatures that I can’t seem to understand.”

“How so?”

“They don’t…they never give me clear signs of anything, and I don’t like figuring things out. I can’t figure life out, let alone another person’s life.” She stands up then, her feet hitting the tiles obnoxiously and it is at this moment of rare innocence that she realizes her mistake. Behind her, a full-length mirror gives Dongyoung a sight of her ripped pants and her backside, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes go down the slightest before looking up at the ceiling.

“Shit, sorry.” He replies, placing his hands over his eyes as a tinge of red takes over the tips of his ears. “I just looked at your ass.”

“Uh, ah, yeah…” She whispers, wrapping his jacket around her waist and somehow, feeling better with his than Kun’s. Maybe, it’s the fact that she can catch a glimpse of his arms that way. “Do I have to say you’re welcome?”

“Did I thank you?”

“You should.”

“Gosh, you surely know how to make someone awkward, don’t you?”

“Only you. I think you’re the only man I’ve managed to get to react like this.”

Dongyoung pulls his hands down by then, rolling his eyes at her antics. “Come on, you’re just saying that to say it.”

“I am not!” She argues, turning around to fix the last few bits of her makeup—or what she has left, better yet—and her hair. “You see, I don’t make the best choices with dating.”

“I mean, it’s clear.” Dongyoung replies. “If they don’t react to you…like…like you’re pretty, and real pretty at that, they’re just shitty men. Or not into you.”

“I think the latter.”

“But I’m sure there are a handful of men who would be interested in you.”

This time, she scoffs. Men are interested in whatever is easiest—and you see, maybe she is not the best match for the kind of men she likes. “Yeah, sure, because the hippie assistant of a cheating businesswoman who spends most of her days glued to that woman’s hip sounds like a real fucking wifey.”

Dongyoung takes the time to unhook one of her long earrings from her hair, shaking his head at her words. “You’re cute.” He says. “And I am not saying it in the sense that is just…beautiful. It’s in the sense of someone who just exudes that…that energy of having a purer sense of life. It’s refreshing to have someone in this world that doesn’t hate everyone and everything.”

“Because you do?” She speaks, voice barely audible before he chuckles.

“Because I hate everyone and everything.” He replies, looking over his shoulder before clearing his throat. “I really have to go back to my friends and get you out of here. Someone could come here anytime and think we were having a quickie.”

At the mere thought of Dongyoung’s hands pressed against her thighs, his hot breath fanning on her face, lips conjoined to hers, she has to talk to stop her mind from roaming. “Ah, yes, I’ll just get going.” She answers, though, something stops her before she gives her first step, taking the restaurant’s pen that is placed on a small cup on the corner of the counter, taking Dongyoung’s hand in between her fingers. “But…if you ever want me to stay, you can call this number.”

The red ink splays on his skin like people on the beaches while in summer, and it’s beautiful to see the contrast between their hands, the numbers, and what they aren’t. What they are, for one night, is the promise of ever talking again—and not only because of April Lim.

Because Kim Dongyoung may be the absolute opposite of what she would have imagined for her, but when he smiles—all gums, rainbows, sunshine, and much more, she thinks she can imagine him perfectly, wrapped around her finger, or maybe she would be wrapped around his.

“I’ll call someday.”

“Let’s hope you do.” She answers, tugging at the bow around her waist and tightening it before saying her goodbyes in a quick mumble.

When she rushes out the door, she sees the countdown. Only one more minute and a new year will start…

And maybe, this shoemaker will be part of it for her.

###

The glide of a bag of chips against his palms ends with the resounding noise of it falling onto his cart, a reminder that he shouldn’t be having those meals—but they damn right fit him for a lonesome Sunday night. With his hood pulled over his head and his night done a mess, Dongyoung’s mind wanders on the sea of what he lacks, thereof. No longer working on shoes for April Lim and having received the beautiful paycheck on December of last year, now February welcomes him with a tight schedule and an even tighter bank account. His pocket screams for something that isn’t coins, but what else can he do?

The grocery store has upbeat music even though it’s almost one in the morning, enough for Dongyoung’s fingertips to tap against the cans of beer in one of the refrigerators. He could, but he shouldn’t. Alcohol shouldn’t be a distraction for one of those times in which he has to lie to his mother—tell her that he is doing amazingly, that not a single meal has been skipped out of stress or because he didn’t just feel like eating. Mom believes him, but he doesn’t think he believes himself.

He takes out his phone to read one of the texts one of his closest friends had written him, the dark lock-screen welcoming his password before his eyes come in contact with a text from Doah.

Doah went to the university he always dreamt of—a friend from high school whose life has been doing great. A vocal trainer for one of the biggest companies in the country, nothing seems to go wrong for her. Sweet, tranquil, with her life as organized as the pins on her head whenever he sees her, a nineties baby over everything.

From: Nam Doah.

I have a bad feeling, Dongyoung.

Are you alright?

A bad feeling, a sense of the sixth voice in our heads that Dongyoung hasn’t heard in a while. If bad feelings really existed, he would’ve known not to put all his hopes in just one university only to end up as a shoemaker, right?

To: Nam Doah.

I’m fine.

Grocery shopping.

From: Nam Doah.

Okay.

Drive safely.

To: Nam Doah.

Always.

We’re still having beers with your husband next week, right?

From: Nam Doah.

Yep!

Are you bringing a plus one?

A plus one, he can’t think of someone even when he looks through his seas of contacts, thumb going up and down to find a name that relishes some kind of reaction out of him. Some are exes he has saved just in case they call him back, and he has to ignore them. Some are kisses he can’t recall. Some are simply not what he wants. Only when he comes across the certain name of an assistant does he stop, reminiscent of the last time he saw her on the male’s bathroom of the restaurant he spent the start of the new year in.

His mind vaguely remembers seeing her clinging to a group of guys from afar, his blazer tied around her waist and tightening the skin there. For a second, he wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around that waist and swing from side to side, leaning in to steal a kiss, perhaps his overexcited mind not helping him think straight. One of them was tall enough to have her bending by the waist the slightest, the face of someone who was probably the soccer team’s leader or something of the like. Very jock-esque, he’d say.

The other man that hugged her held his girlfriend’s hand as he did so, not once letting go of her. Then, came two people, the last one practically dragging her down with the weight of his drunken body, the scream he let out something along the lines of ‘happiest of new years!’. Dongyoung moved his face away then, and never saw her again.

But he has her number.

Maybe, the hum of a more tranquil song reminds him of her. The tea beside the refrigerators filled with alcoholic drinks reads out the same brand she enjoys, somber and black, but inviting enough for him to take the box and throw it inside his cart before moving along. He needs to get some steam and stress off, but his mind can’t stop worrying about the consequences of texting her. They’re not compatible, after all.

So entirely different, she lives her life thinking the clouds will give her the answers of her hardships and that everything falls into place eventually. Dongyoung is a pessimist, through and through, jealous of the sun that beams too brightly, or of the sky for being infinite. A date between the two could lead to nothing.

But opposites attract. It’s in the laws of physics, and that damned black tea must be a sign.

To: Nam Doah.

I’ll see if I can take someone.

From: Nam Doah.

Someone cute!

To: Nam Doah.

I always bring someone cute.

From: Nam Doah.

…

No comment!

The bravery that comes at one in the morning while being in a grocery store is surprising, tapping the text application beside her name to start working on a text. Dongyoung has many things to say—but something about the new year must not be it. He can’t ask about her pair of pants, neither can he a for his blazer back. Or, he could. Why not?

Just as he’s about to type a message, his screen is taken over by a new call, a number that he doesn’t recognize making him frown deeply. Who could be calling him at midnight?

Dongyoung has always been told that the world is too big for the population that it has, but why does it feel cramped in the worst of moments, as his lungs contract for one last breath and anxiousness overtakes him just as he takes the call?

“Hello?” His voice is soft, trying to distract himself by taking the utmost necessities for groceries. Tea and chips don’t sound like the best of meals, after all.

“Good night, am I talking to Mr. Kim Dongyoung?” The voice is professional, the old timbre of someone over her forties, and the tone alone has him swallowing thickly.

“Indeed.”

“Sorry for calling at such a time, but it was the only number we could find for Mrs. Kang Yuna…” The mention of Yuna’s name has images flashing before his eyes. Yuna interviewing him for the first time in her own store, when there were more people with them. The smile she’d always give him when trying to reassure him that everything was going to be okay with their jobs. Even this morning, when Dongyoung was complaining about the lack of employment in their own store, Yuna had been quick to shrug her shoulders and say it was going to be alright. A mother the entirety of her days and yet, able to take care of people around her. “I am deeply sorry to announce that Kang Yuna took part in a car accident early this night. We assume it was around eight, when she was going to pick up her daughter from her mother’s house. The car glided because of the old, worn out tires and her car…it rolled onto itself. It started turning—”

God, Dongyoung recalls exactly what Yuna was talking about this morning. His heart picks up when he imagines her playing with the strands of her red hair, speaking with glee about the gift that she had bought for her daughter—a new set of toys that she had been saving money for. She insisted on leaving her daughter at her mother’s, even if it was far away from the city, just to get enough time to buy the gift, wrap it up, and prepare it for her baby. “What happened to her?” His voice is rough, barely coming out as his fingertips become white at the pressure he puts on the handle of the cart.

“She had a traumatism, since she flew out of the car…basically. Sir—” His ears are unable to make out the next words, kneeling onto himself as he brings his free hand up to his face, the cold skin only freezing under his touch. The first tear falls down the moment the woman on the phone speaks again. “We’re talking from the hospital, and we were unable to communicate with her mother. Sadly, uh, she wasn’t alive when the ambulance got there.”

When you lose someone, it happens in the blink of an eye. You plan days ahead, think of them in your future, and for that, you never think of them as creatures that have an end, as stories that you can’t read forever. Yuna was with him in the morning, in the afternoon, had been with him every day for the past few years…and now, she was gone. Away from life just because she wanted to give her daughter a better life—a normal one, because of rules of life that seem incredibly unfair. Enough to finally steal the entirety of his breath away, knocking it out as tears continue falling.

“No…”

“We’d like for you to come. Maybe with Yuna’s family?”

But her daughter needs a mother, and Yuna’s mother needs a daughter. She was too young to end up like this—too ready to give her daughter exactly what the baby’s father never promised for her. If anyone deserved to die, Yuna wasn’t one of them. “Oh, fuck—”

“Sir, calm down.”

“I—I’ll call her mother…Please, tell me the address. Where can I find her?”

The hope he has is going to that hospital, only to see Yuna’s eyes wide open, her head patched up, and her lips engulfing one of those smiles that tell him that she got him. Like the jokes she played, and the ones he always hated. Yet, at the mention of the hospital and the dull silence that follows after he hangs up, he comes to the realization that if life is one thing—it’s fucking unfair. Vision dizzied by tears, Dongyoung can only press down in Yuna’s contact number, hearing the beeping that comes soon after, rhythmic, only to bid him farewell with a few last words…

“Hi, this is Yuna! I’m not available right now, but if you leave a message after the tone, I’ll get to you as soon as possible. Bye!”

The cheery tone has him closing his eyes tightly, because she won’t get back to him. Or anyone, for that matter.

Parting his lips to say a few last words as well, ones that he had never mentioned, he whispers: “I’m sorry for never saying how thankful I was to have you.”

And he won’t have her anymore.

###

Qian Kun is getting married to a snake. And sure, she likes snakes—the normal amount; if she sees one on the street, in between a set of deep green bushes, peacefully sticking their tongue out or just relaxing on the muddy flooring, she won’t mind about their existence. If they are creatures put in nature, they must exist for a reason. Though, those who are human beings and decide to let layers of snake-skin grow on their personalities don’t settle well with her. Kun may be an excellent elementary school teacher, but his level of intelligence has stopped in that level. His fiancé is not only a snake, but an ogre, one of those brides that will eat the groom’s head if the flowers are not the shade she wants.

Hence, it feels strange as she talks to Kun on the phone, weeks after he proposed to his girlfriend. Six weeks, maybe, she isn’t counting. The pavement welcomes her white sneakers, giving rhythm to her thoughts as the device rests against her ear, but no matter how close she puts it to her eardrums, the words from Kun’s lips still come out the same way.

“She wants you as one of her bridesmaids.”

Take it back to four years ago, when Kun started dating his current girlfriend, much younger and practically spending months just dating, just kissing, just hooking up, until she decided to give him an affirmative answer to the unspoken question of being serious with each other. Kun’s girlfriend, Lia, had almost lost her mind at the mention of a friend who is a girl. She remembers the call she had to pick up at the time, hearing Lia’s loud voice asking her to be honest—if Kun had ever slept with her, for the matter, or if they had even kissed.

Lia is enchanting, sure. It’s the kind of beauty that matches her short, brown hair, and her rounded glasses. Her turtlenecks match her chicly, and her beauty damn right translates into her intelligence. She’s serious, with the right amount of spice behind her dark eyes, but she is just downright…jealous.

“But, why?” Though, she is already moving with diligence, taking the free time she has for lunch to be able to work into finding the shoes that match the picture of the dress Lia had sent her way. It surprised her that the greeting before those texts had been paired with hearts in all colors, shapes, and ways. Maybe, Lia is just planning a way to poison her in her own wedding. “Listen, I know she doesn’t hate me, and I don’t hate her…but she has always been a bit iffy about our friendship.”

Kun sighs deeply. “She has grown out of that.”

“Kun?”

“What?”

“Don’t lie to yourself.” She comments, returning the greeting to one of the old men that pass her by while trotting. Health must be at its peak this time of the year; February is still early for the goals that people put up on a pedestal for their new year. “Listen, I get her. You’re a handsome guy, and I’m sure you have at least three bitches behind you asking for your number or your attention…but me? You’re as spicy as tofu for me.”

“Reason as to why she trusts you now, and she likes you!” Kun argues, the sound of kids speaking in the background cut short when he closes the door behind him. “And she would love it if you went with her when she tries on dresses and stuff.”

“I’m afraid of bridezillas.”

“You’ll be one someday.”

“Ha!” She answers, turning on the corner to go to Yuna’s shoe store. “If I ever get married. I think Johnny has more opportunities of settling down, and he’s the King of Players, than me.”

“Time knows what it is doing.” Kun replies quickly, though the subject return to its normal course soon enough. “So, I count with you for the bridesmaid thing, right?”

“Yeah, I’m on the way to buying some shoes because I don’t have high heels for being a bridesmaid, or ones that match that dress, so…”

“Okay, I have to go teach the new generation of little people. Talk to you later, alright? And thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Bye, Kun.”

“Bye.”

Trouble follows after her steps as the rain falls down on the length of her pink maxi skirt, dragging the fabric down through the pavement and cringing at the wet feeling of her clothes after forgetting her umbrella at home. Rushing through the streets brings her to the front of the shoe store, the walls of the building becoming duller under the gray skies. It may be a sign of just how stupid it is to be Lia’s bridesmaid, but she does it for Kun.

The strands of her hair cling to her face when she tries to open the glassed doors of the store, only to have her chest pushing against the surface, a line of mud resting in between her breasts. The groan that rips from her throat is loud enough to have her stumbling back the slightest, looking up at the building in hopes of finding some big sign that reads ‘closed’. Normally, whenever she passes by the store, it’s open continuously.

One of the windows is opened, the railing doing nothing to conceal the man that is seated by the edge, hand extending forward to catch the droplets of rain in between his fingers—as if it would do something to wipe the clear tears on his reddened eyes. Dongyoung’s hair stands in various spots, though it remains as dark as the somberness on his eyelids—as if he hasn’t slept in days. A black sweater rests on his body comfortably, but the part of his lips lets her know that he hasn’t breathed comfortably in a while.

“Dongyoung!” She calls out, hand waving in the air to capture his attention. It works; his brown eyes trailing down until he meets up with her gaze. The last time she saw him was two months ago, when giving him her number had seemed like a good idea—though, she’s even surer now. “Dongyoung! Hey!”

The back of the sleeves of his sweater meet the raindrops that don’t come from the sky—the tears that capture his existence, that move him into everything that he is against of. Feeling this hard, for example. “H—Hi…how have you been?”

“Hey, is everything alright?” She asks, though the question is stupid. Of course, crying under the rain while looking out the window isn’t alright.

“Yeah!” Dongyoung breathes out, a small smile appearing over his face that doesn’t feel genuine at all. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

She lets her hands fall on each side of her body, the smack collecting some droplets of water and making them jump dramatically. “Well, this is me here.”

This is her here, saying sorry about something that she doesn’t quite know of—because she wishes that those tears would dry with the soft gush of wind that follows the smile that he gives her. “Does April need some shoes?”

“Actually, I need some shoes.” She tells him, though, when she gives one step forward, she sighs. “But I need to know why you’re crying even more.”

“I got a thing in my eye. Don’t worry.”

“Dongyoung, I swear I’ll climb these walls to get there and get the answer out of you.”

“It’s—” His voice cuts off, different from the night of December—almost January—in which they met, though the sound is continued by the sound of keys, hitting the pavement with a swish of water. “Use the third key and we’ll meet on the main desk. We have to work on your shoes.”

Her heartbeat rumbles hard enough for her to feel it inside her ears when the glass doors open, the dull shoe store unlike any of the times she had seen it before. The scars of Dongyoung bleed in the place in ways one would never imagine could happen in a workplace—pictures scattered across the main desk that he is not fast enough to cover up, each one showing new phases of Kim Dongyoung and his boss, Yuna, the one she had talked to over the phone before getting to know the shoe store on its own. The shadows of her coexist in this place, making the lack of her noticeable when the last set of stairs creaks under the weight of Dongyoung’s shoes.

He comes back to life in a way no one would expect him, shielding himself with his hands extended on top of his arms, his cheeks hollowed with the memory of his tears—perhaps, not eating as much as he should, or as frequently as it’s needed. His eyes stare forward, the breath he gives trying to recompose himself, put a shield of him up that makes him look more like a man. Like the man people like Dongyoung are pushed to be, but that wall doesn’t do enough to cover up what brings him down.

“Dongyoung…” She whispers his name softly, splaying her hand on top of one of the pictures. Dongyoung and Yuna are standing in front of a fountain, a little girl seated on Yuna’s lap and Dongyoung’s index finger taking by said baby in between her palm. Life seems good in that picture. “Where’s your boss…Yuna?”

The man rests his forehead against the woodened walls as his lip remains stuck in between his teeth. A war crosses his head when he says: “Six feet under because of a car accident that shouldn’t have happened. That’s where she is.”

Sometimes, she likes to believe no matter how bad our days are…the ones that have the littlest bit of happiness become the best days of our lives. We don’t realize it—finding that one that is too outstanding to be real, but being able to wake up healthy and with those whom we love equally as well should be enough, and it is. Her hands extend without noticing, capturing the spot over his shoulders as his hands splay on her waist, tugging her closer, enough for his arms to wrap around the skin there, encaging her as a shaking breath left his lips. Dongyoung is on the verge of breaking down again, and she can only hope he does.

Because that’s what people like him should learn—that feeling in passion, with enough power to bleed and let it hurt, is the cycle of life and a damn good one at that. Heartbreak should be felt, because it always happens that something goes wrong, someone leaves, whether we like it or not, whether they meant to or not. It’s what we’re ordered to suffer through by life, and Dongyoung just so happened to try to be the stronger person, when he’s already strong enough.

“Dongyoung, I’m so sorry…” She breathes out, her fingers raking through his soft hair, not finding the right answer to tell him. Maybe, they were really close—shit, those pictures show just how close they had been. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s life’s fault.” He says. “If only she hadn’t insisted on buying those toys for her daughter. If—If only the man that got her pregnant was enough of a man and took care of both of them, they wouldn’t have had to go through this!” His voice is much too fast, like a boat that can’t stop moving, going through the waves that clash against the one soaring with it. Dongyoung’s face becomes the only sight she wants to see when she pulls away from him, absentmindedly rubbing the tears away as if they were cream gliding across his skin. “…And I was enough of a dick to never tell her how much I care about her. How good of a friend she was to me…”

“I’m sure she knew.” She replies, though the knows the words do nothing for him. Perhaps, her hopes are too high as their chests remain close, eye to eye, heart to hear. “Write her a letter. I’m sure she’ll read it, wherever she is.”

That brings a smile up Dongyoung’s face, shaking his head in the process. “That’s bullshit. She’s dead, she can’t read anything.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“Believing that they still see us is the only way you’ll ever feel better.” She replies, grasping the heart pendant that rests in between her collarbones, turning around on his hands and moving her damp hair away from her nape. “Help me take this necklace off.”

His hands work on it just as he asks: “Why, though?”

She turns around when the necklace falls in between her fingertips with ease, opening the heart pendant to show him the slice of a piece of paper that she kept inside. “Whenever I write a letter to someone I’ve lost, I take a small piece and put it inside. It reminds me I still have them with me.”

Suddenly, when she looks up, she feels Dongyoung’s eyes already on her, studying her expression, his eyes as red as the tip of his ears. He chuckles for a second, the first sound that she feels happy of hearing ever since she got there. “I don’t think that’s something I can quite believe in.”

“Well, you can do plenty of things with a necklace, too—” She replies, bringing the necklace up her palm, the pendant facing the middle of her hand, easily capturing his attention. “There’s this thing I learnt when I was a kid, if you let the pendant just…move to its will, it’ll show the number of children you’ll have. I think…I think if it’s a circle, it’s a girl. If it draws a line, it’s a boy.”

Amusement overtakes his features as he takes the necklace in between his hands, stopping the ministrations. “That’s the wind.”

“That’s the kind of things we have to believe in, Dongyoung.”

“Of course not! How would a necklace know how many children you’ll have?”

“I don’t know! That’s a thing, Dongyoung, not knowing and still trusting things!”

The excitement on her tone must have gotten him to bring a smile up his features, letting go of the necklace to talk to her instead. “I won’t do that, but I can work on a pair of shoes for you. After all, I haven’t had clients in a while.”

She bawls her hands to grab her dangling necklace, looking for her—hopefully dry—phone inside her bag, looking for her conversation with Lia and showing the picture of the extremely blue bridesmaid dress. “I’m a bridesmaid, and I think the topic is something like water…ocean…I don’t know, it’s by the ocean, that I do know, and I need a good pair of shoes.”

“I think I can make some for you, and I’ll give you a discount for being…” Dongyoung stops looking at the screen to trail his eyes over her face. “You.”

“It’s not necessary. I’ll pay you completely.”

“I insist.”

“No need to insist.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“Only sometimes.” The answer comes quickly from her lips, looking down at her phone with widened eyes before sighing. “Can you take my shoe size and actually text me about this after? I need to go back to my job soon…but I don’t want to leave quite yet.”

She wishes she could stay with him—heal those waterfalls and mend them with a hug, but staying would mean potentially losing her job. April is a nice person in most occasions, but leave her hanging for one minute and she’ll lose it. “Right…now I have an excuse to text you, don’t I?”

“You do,” She says. “And now we have an excuse to talk about how much we agree on disagreeing.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

Though, as she watches Dongyoung work quickly on a design for her, fingertips holding his pencil as if it belonged to his hands, she realizes that there is so much more in him that aches only to go unnoticed by people. Words that remain silent. Worlds that he doesn’t let anyone discover. Rarity overcomes her when she makes it a plan to get to know the parts of him that embarrass him, but that only make him more human to her. And she will.

###

Ink stained pages rest beside the first shoe he had worked on since Yuna’s death, the light bulb on top of him asking for mercy at this ungodly hour of the night. Dongyoung has been unable to go home lately—not because of the waves of jobs, because that’s far from the case, but rather because there is something holding him back. The need to revive this place, as if it would bring his friend back, drives him to work more hours than necessary. Or maybe, it is the person that had given him the hopes of getting better, trusting his process for her shoe-wear at some grand event such as a wedding.

Pain kisses his neck, leaves him implanted in front of the desk as the joints of his fingers extend at the mere stress of working there for so long. His phone rests beside his workplace, plugged in so he doesn’t forget to charge it, and calling out his name with the irony of it all. In the only few moments he had taken for himself, just to rest the long hours of working, he could only think about her. The obnoxious innocence that invades her and makes her so herself. Most of the time, he wants to scoff—he needs to not to feel enchanted by how different they are. A pendant he finds hangs in between his hands, until he tests exactly what she says, and it comes up with different answers.

Two children first.

Then three.

Then possibly five.

And sure, he’s a young man but he’s sure he won’t have that many children. Two, at maximum.

How many would she want?

Dongyoung throws his head back, sighing at the crack of his neck and closing his eyes tightly out of tiredness. He still needs to work on the pair of the high heel he had just finished, in a perfect white shade with straps that cross elegantly over the foot, the density of the shoe nice enough for her to dance the night away and not feel pain at any moment. He doesn’t know why, but he takes her as the type that buzzes around in parties—imparting those slices of happiness of hers like lemonade on a summer evening.

And he really needs to stop thinking of her as charming.

But, she is. The kind of physically charming that would have any of his friends nodding at him to just go for it, but also what he thinks of her goes past her physical appearance. There is something about her—naivety, maybe, or the profoundness of knowing and seeing more than most people. It is as though the world is a book for her, and she doesn’t think about the ending. She enjoys every page as if it’s the last, and it may be. In this book that we have written, alongside one another, everyone moves at their own pace. How do we know which one is the past, the present, the future? Whose characters are bad, whose are good?

From: Kim Dongyoung.

Is it too late to text something?

Hi.

How are you?

When he looks at the time on his phone, he realizes it’s nine at night. Everyone around their age is fast awake at this hour, right?

To: Kim Dongyoung.

I’m organizing some dinner for April and her boyfriend.

From: Kim Dongyoung.

Is she still dating the baseball player guy?

To: Kim Dongyoung.

Yep.

Why?

Interested on a date with her, still?

Nice tastes you’ve got there, bro.

He bites down on his lip. In any other occasion, he would’ve said yes. April Lim is the conceptualization of what most people want, but it’s not what he wants anymore.

From: Kim Dongyoung.

I think I want a date with someone else.

Shit, make it more casual, he thinks.

From: Kim Dongyoung.

Haha.

That has to do it. Casual as ever.

It takes her a few minutes to answer, though he can already imagine the smile plastered on her face.

To: Kim Dongyoung.

Ooh, has someone managed to capture your attention?

I wonder who it is…

From: Kim Dongyoung.

I think you know.

To: Kim Dongyoung.

Do I?

From: Kim Dongyoung.

Yep.

To: Kim Dongyoung.

She must be real pretty.

From: Kim Dongyoung.

She is.

What are you doing on Saturday?

To: Kim Dongyoung.

Isn’t the girl you have in mind going to get jealous?

From: Kim Dongyoung.

I don’t know, are you the jealous type?

With his hand trailing over his neck, a smile plastered on his face, Dongyoung finally decides that he is not going to waste another opportunity in his life. If he wants to do something or say something, he will; tongue sharp, heart on his sleeve, ready to take over the world, not for the world to take over him.

Embarrassment embarks him with the number of laughing emojis she sends soon after, laughing at his words and antics. In a little golden-bathed room, on the verge of bankruptcy, having another chance at life because not a lot of people get to do that.

To: Kim Dongyoung.

Not really.

From: Kim Dongyoung.

Then, the girl I plan on going in a date with isn’t jealous.

To: Kim Dongyoung.

There’s a music festival on Saturday.

My friends invited me to go and I would love it if you tagged along.

Great music, you know.

And we can get to know each other better.

Music is part of him, but the bitter part—the one that is scared because his North has long disappeared from the picture, lost and not found, but for some reason, going with her doesn’t sound so bad. A melody appears inside his head, creating a song for the first time in a while out of the image of her, the tune of her voice, and her mere existence.

From: Kim Dongyoung.

We’ll see each other there.

Send me the details.

Taking the finished high-heel in between his hands, he inspects it with conscience. If the shoe fits, then, he may find someone whose differences with him only complement portions of him he had never gotten to know, too lost in his bitterness—too afraid of living a life that had not been the one he wanted.

Yet, it was the one that destiny decided for him and it was only up to him to shape it to what he wanted.

###

The band on the stage has the crowd going crazy in cheers, beers and cigarettes butts thrown on the floor, equally as intoxicated as the group’s names (erm, Dongyoung doesn’t even know why they would call it this way, but that’s the band name—The Intoxicated). Meanwhile, he sits on the far back, seated on a plaid fabric that folds over the mere weight of him and his date. The rays of sunshine fall on his eyes uncomfortably, not quite as prepared as his companion—an expert in music festivals—with some rounded glasses a la John Lennon seated on the bridge of her nose, a white blouse with only one button put together, the rest leaving her chest in display, a bralette underneath in a beige color, a pair of ripped jeans barely cladding her legs, halfway folded on top of his lap. Her head nods along to the music, enjoying it to the best of her capabilities.

People like her do not live carelessly, but they quite feel like they do. Instead, her mind becomes a sea that he hasn’t travelled—one of the many things he doesn’t understand about her, but he can’t bring himself to resolve the mysteries of her. Though, he tries to reach for her heart, thumb rubbing the top of her soft hands, feeling the bones there stand out the slightest, and if her eyes widened at the action, he doesn’t even notice behind those sunglasses.

Dongyoung turns to look at her just to memorize the small smile that appears on her face, the way she grabs his hand and rests it on her warm thigh, placing her own palm on top of his. The thin layer of pink lipstick that he got a sight of early in the evening has left the image, now implanting thoughts of what it would be like to taste her lips—bathed in the tiniest bit of soda, and perhaps, ready to taste a drink in the near future. He hopes the drink comes directly from him in the shape of a kiss.

There are people who make everyone fall in love with them with a smile, a shrug of her shoulders and a tilt to her head that has him pulling himself closer to her. “Loosen up a bit, Dongyoung. You’re a great singer, you should be shouting along to the lyrics.” Her hands reach for his snapback, moving it back until she can get a good glimpse of his face, studying his lips for a second before biting her own. Tension.

“I don’t know the lyrics, that’s the thing. I’ve never heard this song.”

“Then, just pretend you’re singing along.” She answers, running her fingertips along his neck and collarbones, burning in drips of rain—in droplets of her that feel like they may kill him at that moment. She chuckles again. “You know, in my head, I like to call you class president, because you’re extra uptight.”

Memories of high school embark him on a trip that has him shaking his head. The past is there, but he’s unable to change it. “I was class president. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No,” The words escape her quickly, her fingers dancing away from him before humming. “I actually had a thing for the class president back when I was in high school.”

“Did you date?” Dongyoung asks, splaying his hand on her skin, as if that somehow makes him feel more of her. It’s never enough of her.

Instead, she looks forward, taking off her sunglasses and absentmindedly placing them on his face. They do shield him from the harsh sun, but just as he’s about to refuse wearing them, she speaks up: “Not really. I always thought I’d never fit a good-and-perfect guy.”

“What? Why? Who thinks like that?” The questions roll around his head as an ignition to their conversation, and she laughs.

“Dongyoung, I liked trouble. Guys who ignored me, guys who think they’re going to be the last man I love, those who smoked a cigarette and passed the smoke down to me.” The image fits her, somehow, as if it’s the kind of person that should be there instead of him. “…But I’m tired of that. I don’t need sex before breakfast and good music, I need an actual man. A conversation that doesn’t feel like they think exactly like me.”

“You deserve more than whatever asshole you’re describing.”

“I do.” Her eyes roam over his features, leaning forward until they are face to face, but before she could part her lips to say something else, set him free with a few words that keep him tied to her, they hear the sound of someone calling her name, along with Dongyoung’s.

Earlier on the evening, Dongyoung had been introduced to the tall man in front of them, his white t-shirt long gone and now displaying the tattoos on his chest, his arms, perhaps even down to his legs. A cigarette rests in between his lips, his long blonde hair different from the hairstyle he had seen on the New Year’s party he had seen him in the night she ripped her pants. Johnny Seo, he had said he was before he had fleeted away to talk to a bunch of people, perhaps just to leave them alone, or only because he wanted to socialize.

The man brings a cigarette up to his lips, taking one out of his pocket before extending his hand and offering it to him. “Come on dude, it’s a music festival, have one.”

The first time he tried a cigarette, he was in high school…and he can’t say one thing: it tastes like paper, smoke, and something of the lines of shit all in one thing. Not exaggerated at all, he doesn’t even wonder why people like it. Horrid. “Nah, man, I’ll pass.”

Johnny lifts his eyebrows at his friend, chuckling at his words. “You’ve got a serious one right here.”

“Ain’t he charming?” She asks, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and looking at him with a smile on her face that he could get used to, as if it’s early in the morning and she has just woken him with a kiss. The cutest face that had gone through a bunch of shit that he wants to get to know, write a future out of the past she wouldn’t want to remember when around him. No regrets out of this.

“He is!” Johnny replies, blowing the air from his cigarette before pointing with his thumb behind him. “If you need me, I’m going to be backstage. I’m going to meet one of the singers because of a girl I dated.”

“That’s okay.” She says, watching her friend retreat before speaking loudly. “Get me a signature of whoever that is, John!”

“Okay!”

When she turns back to him, a big smile on her face, though he can’t stop himself from saying: “Have I ever told you I really love your smile?”

It’s the kind of smile they should share as perfect on social media, not too bright, not too straight, just simply real. With one hand coming up to cover her mouth, Dongyoung takes it in between his fingers, pressing a kiss to her knuckles when she speaks up. “It’s the thing I’m the most insecure about.”

His arms take solace in her waist, bringing their chests closer until he can feel the rhythm of her heart, and it’s quicker than whatever shitty drummer on the stage. “Well, let me be here long enough and I’ll make it the thing you’re the most comfortable with.”

“A lot of promises, Dongyoung.”

“I don’t make promises.” He says. “I’m just stating the truth.”

When the Milky Way meets moonlight and the music changes to something he enjoys more, Dongyoung finally lets go a bit. His snapback now rests on her head, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind as they swing to the sound of the music, both shouting the lyrics to the top of their lungs, the buttons of her shirt undone as she looks over her shoulder and gives her a beam that shouldn’t even be covered. Every portion of her speaks about living, feeling, raw and without fear of hurting, even if that’s how most stories end.

How he hopes theirs don’t.

The stars contrast on the sunglasses that now hang from his shirt, her cheek practically resting on his shoulder from the position, the faint smell of soda still lingering within her, arms intertwined behind his head, fingers raking through his hair absentmindedly. “You’ve got some fun in you, baby.”

“I do.” Dongyoung replies, biting his lip before trailing his hands up her waist, his fingertips trying to remember the feeling of the soft fabric that covers her skin, going up her sides until he reaches her arms, turning her around to rest his hands on her hips. “Something about you just makes me want to let go for once.”

It’s April, and Dongyoung is not thinking about what he is saying for once. “Why? Don’t I make you scared?”

“Not at all.” The words escape him with ease, water and alcohol falling from the skies, a few droplets falling on them, the people cheering too loudly and the two of them too far back to even be able to catch a glimpse of the singer. He doesn’t care. “You make me want to try.”

“Try what?”

“A chance at life.”

Her smile only grows wider when she leans forward, pressing her lips to his briefly, almost as if she’s tasting him, pulling away with a glint on her eyes that has him pushing himself forward, not an ounce of liquid courage inside of him when he parts his lips and tightens his hold around her hips. Her hands come towards his neck, thumb tracing his jugular as their lips part rhythmically, not perfectly, but synchronized in a way that they would only understand. Her upper lip tastes like soda and candy, exactly like what he would have never imagined, but too dulcet for him to forget, pushing his body forward until hers molds to his like puzzle pieces.

Abdomen contracting, hands wanting more of her, lips asking for another breath as his nose exhales to keep kissing her, head tilting to the side to take more of her, to let her kill him with one of those ways that she knows of. When he pulls away, his eyes take in the image of her, of the smile that takes over her features when she hides her face on his shoulder, barely letting a kiss rest on his neck before chuckling loudly.

He could get used to living like this.

###

Lying becomes more difficult when she has to do it straight to someone’s face.

Not only are we made out of bones, muscles, joints, arteries, veins, but we are also made out of our disappointments. The words we said once when we were teens and how they haunt us. That one class we took that we were really bad at. The relationships we tried and didn’t even last a week. The people we trust and never quite met out expectations. Eyes only twinkle in sadness when met with disappointment, and the downward shape of someone’s lips comes with the sadness that embarks them. It’s the cycle of relationships, how we’re trained to be—to hurt someone, and make them ache in the process. Not all of us, but most.

Seated on the flooring of April’s wardrobe, waiting for the woman to arrive, she watches the door open with expertise, though a bit uncertainly. Peaking from behind the door, she sees the face of April’s boyfriend, Minho, appear in her line of sight. Even when the door is not completely opened, she can see the bouquet of red roses that does not match the disappointment on his face. Minho finally lets go of the handle and shows him on his baseball practice clothing, though sporting his heart on his sleeve.

“April isn’t here?”

She knows where April is. In some hotel downtown with a singer that Dongyoung adores, whose high notes are enough to make people believe he is an angel and doesn’t hunt for taken women. That’s how life is, that’s how people move. Made to break, bend, turn life into messes just for their own pleasure. She always thought that she had to let it be—let the pain live inside her and the people around her, for it was inevitable. Lies are meant to be told. Trees are meant to pass by the racing cars that try to look for a future.

We are meant to hurt.

But we aren’t.

We are meant to feel, just not pain all the time.

She stands up then, looking at the set of shoes that she doesn’t even wear anymore—those that Dongyoung had designed, created and crafted months ago, before their dates, before she had kissed him more than she had kissed any man without being a couple, and she realizes just how much April has turned her into a shell of herself. Life got turned into a lie for her, dragging the sins she had not committed, a Lego piece under her feet as she tried to find something better for her.

And everyone deserves something better.

“I can tell you the hotel she is in, but I doubt you want to go.” She whispers, placing her hands inside the pockets of her jeans before watching Minho’s face with intent. It falls completely, just like the bouquet of flowers that pathetically takes place on the floor with a thud. “She’s been cheating on you for the last year, Minho.”

“No fucking way…” Minho breathes out, resting his hand on top of his forehead, and when she sees the heartbreak in his eyes, she decides that she is more than this. More than being just an assistant, more than helping someone lie, more than helping someone get fifty pair of shoes only not to wear them at all. Some people just aren’t people at all, but parasites instead. “Are you lying?”

“Not right now, but each time you asked where she was over the phone…I was lying to you.” She answers, shrugging her shoulders soon after before moving closer to him. “I’m deeply sorry.”

“That bitch—”

“She’s one.” She says, taking out her phone at that moment, aware that the mansion she finds herself in is not the place she should be in. She would much rather live in solitude but being honest to herself, getting little to no money but still, not having to cover up for someone who wouldn’t do the same for her. Just as the screen illuminates her face, she looks at Minho over her shoulder. The white walls of the wardrobe, the tall mirrors that clad almost every spot, and the perfectly organized clothes make him look like an outcast, and she realizes that she doesn’t take place in this life anymore. “If you’re staying, tell her that she doesn’t have an assistant anymore. I’m done with lying.”

The tapping of her shoes, not high-heels, against the tiles makes her feel powerful. It’s the first chapter of a story she hasn’t written, but it’s definitely far more worthy than making people ache and bend to the will of others. It feels natural, for there must be something else in this world than just being someone’s shadow.

To: Kim Dongyoung.

You gotta invite me to dinner now.

I’m officially unemployed.

The man replies just as she is walking out of the mansion, passing by April’s sports cars.

From: Kim Dongyoung.

No shit.

You’re finally free.

The air feels a bit purer as she breathes in, watching the night unfold in front of her as she waits for a taxi.

She’s finally free.

###

Sweat tinges at Kun’s hairline, but the smile on his face comes directly out of a magazine. Be damned immaculate models when you can have happiness in the form of love. People easily judge—hell, she is one of them, for she had never stopped once to think about why Kun tried so hard with Lia, and why he wanted to marry her during the summer. The grin she shares with him seems to separate them for the world, tonguing the words of the song that plays in the background directly to him, not because the party is straight out of a daydream, but because this is her daydream with him. Kun was someone Lia didn’t want to lose, and in her own way, she was just being human.

The garden Kun had saved money for comes relatively close to perfection. Only that the children plucking out some flowers at the corner of the event are not the most likeable in this scene. Everyone has cups on their hands, if not, they’re exchanging the dulcet champagne for something far more sober. A man with a long beard makes sure that the waiters serve in an order, taking into consideration everyone’s allergies or preferences. Kun and Lia had really thought the event through.

When she crosses one leg over the other, she pulls the yellow bridesmaid dress up her legs, not caring if people look at her weirdly, but she simply has to spare a glance to the white shoes that wrap around her feet like a vice. People never care about shoes, but she does—it’s a help to move forward and these ones are extremely comfortable. Not that she had been able to pay Dongyoung with more than a few kisses and a few turns in his arms, but one day, she hopefully will. When her job at the library makes her save enough money, after all.

Dongyoung always said she’d fit philosophy, and he wasn’t half wrong.

Winter and spring be forgotten when she feels the warmth of the summer that is him, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind like he normally does, his chin resting against her shoulder. When she looks at Dongyoung, she catches him already looking at her, his black hair pushed back and showing a smile she can’t get used to—too beautiful in its own way, matching hers that doesn’t make her quite as insecure as it did before. People grow, or so they say.

“They’re gonna throw the bouquet soon,” Dongyoung says, and though the words remain unspoken, she knows there is something between them. Something serious, a concept too foreign for people like them. “Do you want to stand there and see?”

“I doubt you believe in those things.” She says, feeling the expanse of his chest when she leans back, a smile on her face that can’t be erased in any possible way. Dongyoung nods along to her words.

“I don’t, but I know someone who probably does.”

“I don’t think I have a boyfriend to get married to.” The joke doesn’t work well with him, the tips of his ears reddening at the connotation of her words.

“Well, I do think you have a boyfriend, or have all these months not meant a thing—?”

“I’m joking.” She replies, though she only sighs, placing a brief kiss to his lips that she still doesn’t get used to. Sometimes, if she spends long enough without kissing him, she swears she can forget the taste of him and aches for a memory. “…I’m too lazy to stand up. I think I’ve had too many snacks since the party started.”

“Okay.” Dongyoung, or her boyfriend as he called himself, places a brief kiss to her neck before looking ahead. Lia has stepped away from Kun’s hold to have the masses of women going crazy behind her, jumping up and down and pushing each other. “Damn, people really go crazy over this.”

“Welcome to weddings. This always happens.”

Though, when the bouquet of flowers flies in the air, it almost feels like it happens in slow motion. She turns around to look at Dongyoung, first focusing on his thin lips, his delicate nose, his cat-like eyes before she watches his hand extending to capture something flying in the air. His expression fills itself with surprise, for he had caught the bouquet, and laughter creeps up on the invitees.

Dongyoung’s face is crimson red by the time he says: “Ah, uh…I didn’t mean to.”

All his teeth show in an uncomfortable smile as people call his name, but instead, she shrugs her shoulders. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Since when did you stop believing in these things?” Dongyoung asks, putting the bouquet in between their bodies as a sign. Instead, she grins widely.

“Since my reality became better than my daydreams.”

And a bouquet that indicates the future can’t change the beauty of this city guy in front of her, whose words had been able to show her the truth always wins over a million lies. Good luck that her reality is much better than the lies she had once told.

#doyoung scenarios #doyoung #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #doyoung au #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #shoemaker!au

154 notes · View notes

rebellconquerer · 3 years

Text

My insomnia is paying off, though it really could focus on any of the 4 WIP I have instead of writing random one shots. In any case, a little ficlet of Bucky and his haircut.

He’s not sure when he makes the decision, really.

Sometime after he realizes that he lost another 5 years of his life to not living, sometime after Steve comes back looking his age for once, sometime after the US government makes it clear that while he may be about to be pardoned, his life will not be his to live.

He’s been in Wakanda more than in the United States because he’s safe there and he’s familiar with life there, and because it’s the last place outside of Steve’s company that he knows he’s wanted. But his days are numbered, he knows that. T’Challa can only keep the government at bay so long, and so he knows with a certainty that aches in his bones that he will be leaving soon.

He could wait to go back.

Once the decision is made, the when and where and how don’t really matter all that much. Hell, he’d probably have more luck in the States (very few people look like him here), but he doesn’t know when he’ll feel comfortable having someone have a sharp object behind his back and the longer the hair stays with him the more he feels like he’s dragging around the corpse of the Winter Soldier.

So he goes to Ramonda out of some innate instinct in him that shouts that she is a mother and capable and will not turn him away. His own mother cut his hair until he was almost 22, and yes, Ramonda is royalty and probably has no experience with any hair like his, but it’s the trust that matters.

She smiles at him when he shows up at her official office, still cobwebbed and dusty from the time away, but her immediate expression of pleasure at seeing him helps soothe his jittery thoughts.

“Mahlubandile, it is good to see you, come in, come in,” she says lightly, stepping away from her door.

He hovers in the doorway only momentarily before he shuffles inside.

“I know you are probably busy, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but I-” suddenly the words get stuck in his throat. He doesn’t know how to ask for things anymore, much less things for himself (much less ridiculous things that the Queen of a country wouldn’t want to, or care to, do a vicious voice spits at him from the back of his head.) He finds himself frozen, mouth open and eyes wide, unable to go on but unsure how to go back.

“Yes?” Ramonda asks, face clouding with concern. When he still says nothing, she frowns at him. “You look just like him when he wants something, so go ahead and ask,” she says kindly.

He grimaces uncomfortably at being read so easily, but if there is one thing he is good at, it is following instructions.

“I want to cut my hair.” he manages to get out all in one breath.

Ramonda frowns at him, dark eyes clouded with confusion.

“Ok. You do not require permission to do so, Mahlubandile. We can try and find someone here who would be able to-”

“No, I… I would like you to cut my hair,” he says softly. Her mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ of surprise as her eyes widen minutely. He watches carefully for any signs that she is uncomfortable with his request, but he sees only concern and kindness.

“I do not know if I would be the best person for this, I have never done it before,” she says gently. It’s not a no.

“It doesn’t matter what it looks like when it’s done, just that it’s gone. Please, Ramonda,” he says clearly, trying to convey with his expression, the words he cannot bring himself to say. She seems to understand, brow furrowing for a moment before she purses her lips.

“See, you say that, but Shuri will have lots of thoughts and opinions on what it looks like after,” she mutters and Bucky can’t help the small smile that curves his lips even though that thought hurts. He’s going to miss them after he leaves.

“Come to the palace this evening. We will get it done, though I cannot promise you will not have an audience.” she proclaims, with an air of finality. Bucky huffs out a breath of laughter, knowing she means Shuri, and nods. She’ll be a good distraction anyway.

**********************************

“This is going to be amazing, seriously, I have so many style options.” Shuri greets him as he walks towards one of the guest bathrooms.

“No style options. I have watched a few videos and I think I can make do with scissors and clippers. Styling will be out of my repertoire,” Ramonda says honestly, her eyes solemn and on him. He nods, as he said before, he doesn’t particularly care what it looks like, just wants it gone.

“The only style thought I have right now is - short,” he reassures. Shuri groans with all the drama of a 19-year-old.

They have a little area set up for him. A stool over some sort of colourful sheet, a full layout of scissors of different types and multiple clippers. He barely speaks, focused mostly on breathing through the bubbling panic rolling his stomach and an uneasy sense of fear, though he doesn’t know of what.

Ramonda says nothing, for which he is grateful, and Shuri perches herself in the corner of the room, talking mostly to herself about some projects she is planning to start working on. He doesn’t think she realises yet that he will likely be forced to leave, but Ramonda knows. He can see it in her eyes.

He settles easily on the seat, closing his eyes and thinking of anything else but what is about to happen. He focuses on the sound of Shuri’s voice, the tired but easy cadence of it that had become so familiar throughout the process of his deprogramming.

Ramonda sprays his hair with water, dampening the strands, then he feels her hand rest on his shoulder for a moment. She doesn’t ask if he’s sure, for which he is thankful because he doesn’t know what his answer would have been beneath the hummingbird beat of his heart, but he needs this done. Needs it gone.

He doesn’t flinch at the first cut but it’s a near thing. And it gets easier and easier with each successive snip until his muscles aren't tensing at Ramonda's every move.

It takes her almost an hour, between her getting rid of most of the length and then her and Shuri bickering goodnaturedly over which clipper to use at which length with some additional time to stop and consult YouTube, but eventually she taps him in the shoulder and whispers 'all done' in a voice that's almost choked with emotion.

He brushes the strands of his hair that are caught on his shirt slowly, delaying the inevitable of looking at himself in the mirror as long as he can in case it's not enough, in case no matter the change this has made, he'll still see the Winter Soldier staring back at him in his reflection.

But he can't delay forever, especially with Shuri and Ramonda hovering, clearly waiting for a reaction. So he takes a steadying breath, walks over the mirror and counts himself down from 3 before he looks up and meets his own eyes.

It makes him look younger somehow. The short hair provides no distractions from the blue of his eyes and the sharp contour of his cheekbones. He reaches up and rubs his hand through the soft bristles at the back of his head, taking in the difference.

He doesn't look like the Soldier, that's for sure, but he also doesn't look like Bucky Barnes. It's not even something he realised he was dreading until he feels the relief in his chest.

Bucky Barnes was a good looking boy who prided himself on having a swell haircut with just the right amount of brylcream shine. He'd have never been caught dead with hair this short. Bucky isn't that boy anymore, and looking like him would just give him another ghost to outrun.

"Well? The United Nation deliberates for less time." Shuri grumbles and receives a short, sharp word in Xhosa from her mother.

Bucky actually laughs, the sound feeling more at home in his mouth than at any time in the last 70 years.

"It's very good." He pronounces and turns to face Ramonda who's hovering behind him.

He gives her the most honest, warm look he can muster.

"Thank you" he says, feeling the strength of that statement tug at whatever is left of his heart.

She smiles.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky in wakanda #bucky barnes fanfic #rebellwrites #The winter soldier #black panther #ficlet

14 notes · View notes

chelsfic · 4 years

Text

Leftovers Part 9 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

A/N: Quick note-- most roller derby leagues don’t actually take a break from practicing during the off-season *shrug.* Hey, hey, hey, guys? Let me know what you think! I am an ACTUAL ENERGY VAMPIRE, but I feed off your kind words and support--love you!

Summary: Nandor is on the reader’s shit list, but will they reunite when a minor medical emergency pops up? (yes)

Warnings: Female Reader-insert, Angst, Medical shit (migraines, lasting effects of the vamp attack at the rave), Hypnotism

---

“Guillermooo! I’m ready for my slumber now!” Nandor bellows, standing impatiently by his open coffin and waiting for his familiar to arrive so he can complete his bedtime routine.

Guillermo appears, huffing and puffing, a moment later, “I’m sorry, master! I forgot…”

“Well, that’s unacceptable, Guillermo!,” Nandor whines with a scowl. “You’re my familiar. It’s your job to remember these things. You’d think after five years--”

“Eleven,” Guillermo interjects with a pained smile. “Eleven years, master.”

Nandor looks momentarily shocked before regaining his momentum, “Okay...Eleven years… Fine. You’d think that you would remember to come and help me get ready for bed. It’s not that difficult.”

Guillermo lets the scolding roll off his back. He knows his master is hurting. In truth, Nandor hasn’t wanted Guillermo’s help at bedtime in weeks. It’s only now that his coffin is feeling a little lonely that he’s reverting back to his old ways. Guillermo rushes to untie his master’s cravat and helps him slip off the heavy cape. The vampire looks temporarily mollified.

“Very well,” Nandor sniffs, taking Guillermo’s hand as he steps up into the coffin. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo smiles lightly and moves to take hold of the coffin’s lid. Nandor suddenly reaches up to stop him.

“Guillermo…” he fidgets and avoids eye contact as he asks, “Do you think she’ll be angry with me for much longer?”

Guillermo looks down at his master, feeling contrary ties of loyalty tugging on him as he decides what to say.

In the end he takes pity on Nandor, reaching down to pat his soft hair and murmuring, “I’m sure she’ll forgive you soon, master.”

“Thank you, Guillermo,” Nandor sighs, shutting his eyes and crossing his hands over his chest. “You’re a good familiar.”

He gently closes the lid, feeling a happy swell in his chest despite his concern. It’s been a few days since the orgy and his friend still hasn’t shown any signs of forgiving Nandor. He knows she’s hurt, but Guillermo silently hopes things will smooth over soon. An angsty vampire makes for an unhappy familiar.

---

After Nandor let you out of the basement you ran to the shower, dousing yourself in steaming water to chase the chill out of your body. But no matter how many hot showers or layers of clothing you put on, you can’t ever seem to warm up. At least not on the inside. In the span of just a few days you’ve gone from the heights of happiness to the dumps of misery. The worst part is that you’re not even angry anymore. You’re numb to it. All you want is to fall back into Nandor’s arms and let him make you feel good like no one else has.

But…

It’s not that he slept with who knows how many people at the orgy. It’s not even that he locked you in a basement and forgot about you. It’s that he treated you like a thing. Like his possession, whose feelings and thoughts are insignificant in the face of almost eight hundred years of immortal life. For a little while Nandor made you feel special, and then he’d gone and ruined it.

You don’t even have your usual outlet! Bout season is over and practice won’t start up again for another month. And to make matters even better: all this drama seems to be aggravating your stupid brain because, for the first time in weeks, you’re feeling the dragging ache in your head left by the vampire attack at the rave. It’s been a dull, throbbing pain for a couple days now, but tonight it’s grown into a pulsing, stomach-churning migraine. You lock yourself up in your room with the lights off. The housemates probably assume you’re brooding over Nandor. But mostly...you’re just in pain. And scared.

It’s after midnight and the pain shows no signs of diminishing. You finally drag yourself out of your room, squinting blearily against the blinding glare of the candlelight, and seeking out one of the two licensed drivers in the house.

---

“The closest urgent care is on Richmond, but according to the Google reviews, we’ll have shorter wait times if we drive a bit farther to the one on Victory Boulevard. Of course, it’s entirely up to you but--”

“Colin,” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper, “can you please take me to the closest one and maybe try to resist the urge to feed? I already feel like shit.”

Colin pauses, tightening his fingers on the steering wheel and saying, quietly, “I wasn’t...I was just trying to be helpful.”

You immediately feel guilty and then you question if, in fact, he’s still feeding. Being friends with an energy vampire is...draining.

He drives you to the urgent care, walking inside the crowded waiting area with you and taking charge of your intake paperwork. Okay, now you could kiss him, because bureaucracy is like Colin’s native language and you’re pretty sure he uses some of his power to manipulate the staff into getting you seen sooner. In under an hour you’re leaving with a prescription and feeling a little less anxious about the possibility that you might drop dead from an aneurysm.

You’re pulling out of the pharmacy parking lot and back out onto the road when a small, squeaking, flying thing suddenly soars through your open window and erupts in the backseat, transforming into your dark, sullen vampire lover.

You shriek in alarm, looking out the window and noting the lightening sky on the horizon. Your heart jumps up into your throat, “Nandor! What are you doing, it’s almost daybreak!”

Nandor sits forward in his seat and leans in close to you as he speaks, “Guillermo told me you have been to the human medical shamans! What is wrong, my human?”

“It’s...nothing, Nandor. I’ll be fine. I had a bad migraine,” you mumble. You’re too exhausted to be having this conversation.

Nandor continues, unphased, “Then you should have come to me, not fucking Colin Robinson!”

“Why?” you blurt out, suddenly done with avoiding the hurt you’ve been dwelling in for days. “Because you care about me? Or because I’m your property?”

Nandor looks bewildered, “You are my human…”

You shake your head violently, turning away in your seat with an angry growl.

“...And I do care, my love…”

Sighing, you fix your eyes on the metal guardrail at the side of the road as it flashes by. Colin Robinson is sitting rigid in the driver’s seat, beaming as he gulps down the emotions flooding the vehicle. Nandor reaches out to curl his fingers through your hair just as the first rays of sunlight break over the horizon.

“Nandor, the sun!” you cry, all thoughts of your hurt and anger flying from your head. You turn around in your seat to lock eyes with your lover for one meaningful instant before he transforms into his bat form.

You scramble for the purse at your feet, upending it onto the floor before holding it up and frantically gesturing to the flapping little bat in the backseat.

“Get in, baby!” you plead, uncertain of how much communication actually gets through in this form.

You breathe a shaky sigh of relief as Nandor flies into the bag, curling up at the bottom with a frightened squeak.

“Fucking hell,” you mumble. Your heart is racing in your chest. Cautiously, you open the purse to peer inside at the furry, winged creature who is...your boyfriend. You reach in and gingerly stroke your fingers over his little head. The bat’s teeth close on one finger in an affectionate, soft bite. “You’re okay now…”

Colin Robinson pulls up outside the house and turns to you with his eyes blazing, “Well, this has been quite the night!”

---

You carry Bat-Nandor into his room, taking him out of your bag and gently placing him in the fur-lined coffin. Even though you’re expecting it, you can’t help but jump back when he transforms before your eyes. You’re still not used to witnessing actual magic.

He looks up at you with a look that’s all soft, liquid eyes and remorseful submission.

“Will you stay with me?” he asks diffidently, toying with a tuft of rich fur on the coffin lining. “Please?”

You weigh your options. On the one hand you really miss falling asleep in Nandor’s strong arms, with the comforting scent of him wrapped around your body like a blanket. And when you pause for a moment you realize that the ache in your head hasn’t bothered you since he flew into Colin Robinson’s car.

On the other hand…

“Is there anything you want to say to me, first?” you prompt, arching your brow expectantly.

Nandor swallows his pride, thinking back to those horrible days when Guillermo left him for fucking Celeste. He sits up and takes your hand in his as he says, “I’m sorry I treated you like a belonging and not a person. I appreciate you very much. And I--I love you. And also, I’m sorry for forgetting about you and Guillermo in the basement…it probably won’t happen again.”

You let out a laugh, tears stinging your eyes as you reply, “I love you too, Nandor. And...I’m sorry, too. I don’t even care anymore about the stupid orgy anymore. But I should have...tried to understand it more. I think.”

Nandor sits up, grasping your face between his hands and pulling you in closer.

“I wanted you with me at my side, my mortal,” he hisses, dropping little kisses onto your lips. “One day you will be. I’ll make you a vampire and together we will be the life of every vampire orgy. We’ll feast on virgin blood and make love until the end of time.”

Before you can form anything approaching a reaction, he claims your mouth with his, sucking your lower lip and pushing his tongue forward to tangle with yours. You cling to the fur collar of his coat, hanging on for dear life as your knees go weak. Every time you kiss it feels like you’re diving into a hot spring, losing yourself so deliciously to the sensation of his touch.

“You want that don’t you, my mortal?” he pants against your lips, reaching down to casually lift you off your feet and settle you on his lap. “Immortal life? Immortal love?”

He pauses kissing you and you rest your cheek against the top of his head, enjoying the soft brush of his hair against your skin. Do you want that? To be a vampire? To never see the sun again? To drink blood to live? To never say goodbye to this beautiful, idiot man you seem to love?

“Yes, Nandor,” you murmur, pressing your lips into his hair and breathing his scent. “I do.”

He leans his head back and kisses you once more, running his lips over your cheeks, your jaw, the long column of your exposed throat.

“Uhm!” you interrupt, a little panicked. “But not this minute, right? You have to give me some warning…”

Nandor chuckles, smoothing his hands up and down your back in reassurance.

“No, mortal. Dawn isn’t exactly an ideal time to make a new vampire…”

“Oh...okay, good,” you sigh, settling down into his arms once more. “Because I have one condition…”

---

A little while later, you’re sealed up, snug as a bug in Nandor’s coffin, with his arms wrapped around you and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. You press a kiss to his cool skin and his chest rumbles with a satisfied purr. For the first time in hours and hours your skull doesn’t feel like it’s about to crack in two and you ponder the reason for that. Of course, like all vampires, Nandor has the power of hypnosis. Maybe his very presence has a soothing effect? Like he transmits a frequency that cancels out whatever that asshole did to you?

“Nandor?” you whisper, unsure if he’s fallen asleep yet or not.

“Yes, my mortal?” he answers at once, tightening his arms around you.

“When I’m with you my head doesn’t hurt so bad… But, do you think--do you think that vampire did some kind of...lasting damage?” the question has been on the back of your mind ever since the attack but you’ve been too afraid to give a voice to your worry.

A low growl escapes his throat as he replies, “That shit chicken vampire hurt you because he can’t even hypnotize correctly.”

“But...” you pause, steeling yourself. Are you really about to put this level of trust in him? “You can fix it, can’t you?”

Nandor pauses, swallowing down a lump of nerves as he considers. He wants nothing more than to make you feel better. But there was the time he and Laszlo gave Sean the brain scramblies…

But this time would be different. He would be so, so gentle. So careful…

He raises the lid of the coffin, sitting up and pulling you with him. A few candles still flicker from the tables around the room, forgotten in his eagerness to have you in his arms. Nandor’s pale skin glows faintly in the low light, the lines of his body lost in shadows.

“Look into my eyes, little human,” he commands, his voice is deep and drawling.

You obey, looking up at him as your body visibly trembles. You’re frightened.

“Shh,” Nandor hushes, running his hands up your arms and settling them onto your shoulders. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You nod, remembering how fragile and weak he’d felt when you’d carried his bat-form in your hands. You can give him the same trust. You can put yourself in his hands now and know that he won’t hurt you.

His dark eyes burn with intensity as he continues, “You are now under my command…”

---

A/N: I require CAKES AND CREAMS!! Candies and streamers and sticky, sticky toffee! Actually I just need some soft comments because I AGONIZED over this??!?!?!?!

Tags:

@festering-queen @kandomeresbitch @strangestdiary @glitterportrait @scuzmunkie @redwoodshadows @sarasxe @rileyomalley

#nandor the relentless #nandor #nandor x reader #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor the relentless fanfic #nandor the relentless imagine #wwdits fanfic #what we do in the shadows

206 notes · View notes

cherriesscheeol · 3 years

Text

Childhood Sweet Heart

pairing: seungcheol x reader

genre: angst

warnings: angsty, some fluff but not much, suggestive writing

words: 1.6k

summary: you’ve known seungcheol your whole life you’ve always been connected at the hip if somebody seen seungcheol they always seen you with him.. but what happens when you finally tell him how you feel..

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

All your life the only male you’ve ever known is Choi Seungcheol.. The first time he laid on eyes on you was when your mom brought you home from the hospital only being a year older than you he didn’t remember much but he knew for a fact you were destined to be bestfriends.

When you were 5 and started school the first time he always protected you from the girls who bullied you. He would let you hang with him Joshua and Jeonghan and from then you stayed with the trio. Seungcheol never missed the chance to spend the night with you if he wasn’t with his friends.

When you were 10 things started to change slightly you started to realize that maybe you had a small crush on him but you were only 10 what did you know about crushes.. The older he got the less he wanted to spend time with you the more you wanted him around he was your comfort place the person you cried to and he was always there to hold you to comfort you and protect you from all the problems in the world.

3 years later you found yourself sharing your very first kiss with Seungcheol you complained to him so much about how the boys at your school didn’t like you and how the girls bragged about having there first kisses and all you wanted to do was experience it.. So on your 13th birthday he grabbed you by the face and pecked your lips quickly “See now you’ve had your first kiss too its was nothing too special” he smiles and after that you knew you loved Choi Seungcheol.

Only from then you watched him fall for several girls who weren’t you. You watched him kiss several girls who weren’t you. You watched Choi Seungcheol live his life as if you didn’t exist you watched from afar as he made more friends as he experienced several girlfriends.. and you; you only sat alone wishing it was you he loved wishing it was you he kissed, held hands, and smiled with everyday but it was no longer you.. it actually was never you and now your stuck in this unrequited love.

High School came and that’s when things got bad he didn’t even spare you glance now only hanging with his newly founded friends and a different girl on his arm every week and it only hurt you worse you wanted to talk to him but you knew he wouldn’t so you only stayed to yourself and watched him from a distance you were in love no doubt about it but no matter how many times you told him he would simply brush you off and tell you that you were only joking.

One night Seungcheol found himself missing you a lot more than usual.. he got threw on a pair of sweats and a pullover he recently got because you had most of his old ones he smiles at the thought of you.. He grabs his keys heading to see you.. You were sitting on the couch wrapped in one of his jackets eating junk food and watching drama’s when there was a loud knock on the door.

Not expecting anyone you open the door not expecting to see Cheol standing there “what are you doing here?” you ask you step aside to let him inside he smiles and goes “I can’t come see my bestfriend?” you roll your eyes at him “you must not have plans tonight.. you seem to always be busy these days’ you sit on the couch crossing your legs he can only chuckle at your words and goes “I actually did have plans but I canceled to spend time with you” he sits beside you pulling you into his arms your heart starts racing you look at him with big eyes.

“Seungcheol what are you doing” he pulls you closer to him “I miss cuddling with you” he nuzzles his face into your neck and sighs in content you wrap your arms around him slowly breathing in his familiar scent a small smile on your face missing these days with him cuddling and watching dramas.

After 30 mins of silence he speaks up “hey..” you hum in response and he sits up slightly to look at you and smiles “do you remember your 13th birthday?’ you groan slightly and cover your face “omg yes of course I do that day was the worse” you roll your eyes and he chuckles and goes “even when we kissed? Did you hate it that much?” your face burns hot and turns bright red “I thought you never wanted to talk about that again”

He stares at you and then at your lips “I know but lately I’ve been wondering what it would be like to kiss you again” you nearly choke on your spit “w-what!? Seungcheol are you drunk” he laughs loudly “No im completely sober I promise” You sit up slightly staring at him “Cheol I-” he cuts you off “a kiss wouldn’t hurt anyone right?” he leans closer to you and you nod slightly you trusted Cheol with your life so how bad would a small kiss be?

That small kissed turned into clothes being tossed across the room, names being called, sinful words being spilled from one’s mouth, that night you gave your everything to Choi Seungcheol hoping maybe just in the slightest it would change the way he thought about you maybe even the way he seen you but it didn’t because not even 2 mins after you finished he was putting his clothes on.

There was a slight pang in your chest as you watched him leave not even muttering a goodbye to you and barely sparing you a second glance. That night he left he took your heart with him and he left you there wondering why you never could be good enough for him or what you could possibly could be doing wrong for him not love you the way you loved him.

That last year of high school was horrible your heart only ached more any time you seen Seungcheol you did everything to avoid crossing paths with him, you ate lunch in class, took longer routes to get to your classes you even stopped staying after school to do extra activities not that he even noticed he was too busy with his new girlfriend to even notice how hurt you’ve been.

He may not have noticed but Wonu did he noticed the way you would scurry away anytime Seungcheol came around he noticed the sad lingering gazes he noticed it all and he wonder what the chestnut colored hair boy could’ve done to you for you not to even be in the same room as him. So he asked “hey cheol?’ Seungcheol turns to Wonu “wassup?” Wonu sighs slightly wondering if its his place to ask a question like this “have you talked to y/n lately?” he knew by the way Cheol’s face fell that something happened between the two of you he glances over to where you stand in line grabbing your lunch Cheol nods and goes “she’s my bestfriend why wouldn’t I talk to her?” he laughs a little Wonu only nods not wanting to dig too deep

That night there was banging on your door you quickly rush to answer thinking it was the pizza man delivering your pizza but when you opened the door there stood the guy you’ve been avoiding for months and the person you wanted to see the least right now you try closing the door in his face but he stops it with his foot and pushes his way inside closing the door behind him you huff “I didn’t say you could come in? Besides what are you doing here.. shouldn’t you be somewhere sucking Sooya’s face off” you roll your eyes and plop down on the couch

He scoffs “what’s been up with you lately? You’ve been avoiding me like im the black plague or something” you mumble “might as well be” he sighs and goes “what did I do” you look at him and chuckle “what haven’t you done Seungcheol?” he looks at you confusingly and opens his mouth to reply but you cut him off “You’ve led me on for years Seungcheol you know how I feel about you! You’ve always known and you used it against me you knew no matter what it was or what we did I could never say no to you!”

He stares at you and looks at the way your eyes water and lips quiver as you continue “Im in love with you Seungcheol I always have been since were little.. But I knew you never loved me back...” you chuckle slightly as the tears stream down your face “I always told you I liked but you would only laugh it off and tell me I was crazy but it was all true everyone knew except for you Cheol because you never wanted to believe me” you wipe your face and sniffle “I probably look stupid sitting here crying over my childhood bestfriend” you laugh slightly “you don’t have to accept my confession.. i just wanted you to know”

He hasn’t muttered a word telling you what you feared the most.. he doesn’t love you the way you love him he can’t accept your feelings but you knew that already you knew this was how this would end.. He stands up quickly “I-I have to go” he grabs his keys and rushes out the door. You stand there in pain not surprised even in the slightest by his reaction cause he knew all along this day would come he knew one day you would tell him you loved more than a friend and he ran because he was afraid to accept you he was afraid to accept your love.

should I make this into a mini series? There’s so much more I wanted to type but didn’t want to make this too long lol

48 notes · View notes

farouchelyoptimistic · 4 years

Text

Hyunji: Rekindle

Part 1

"So, you're telling me, I should move to another agency? I still don't get it." Yea Ji leans back on her seat as she tries to wrap her head around what the CEO of the company she's under is trying to tell her.

She fully understood what they were saying, but what she wanted to understand was why. She had been under this company for nearly ten years, ever since she had started her career in the business. She knew everyone from the first floor up to the last floor up top. And everyone knew her inside and out. The familiar staff around her was considered family.

And now, at the near end of her contract, instead of talking about renewal, they were talking to her about transferring to another company, a company that hasn't even been established yet.

"It's not like we want you to move, Yea Ji-ah. But their offer is great for you and you'd surely benefit from it a lot. They were formal enough to invite you by contacting us first, and I personally appreciate it." Her boss starts, leaning over the table with his hands clasped together.

"We've been taking care of you for so long, and we would love to do so for some more. But they're offering you something we couldn't get you ourselves. You're like my daughter, and I want the best for you. Even if it means letting you go. Gold Medalist will be established January next year, it's new but it has massive foundations and connections. They're also co-producing a drama under TVN, and they would want you to be the lead if ever you join them. I've heard about the script, Yea Ji-ah. It's going to send you into a breakthrough, one you've been waiting for. This is good. It's hard to let you go, but this is what's best for you. And, after the drama, if they don't treat you half as much as we do, come back to me. We'll have you back in a heartbeat. "

She almost wanted to cry at her boss' words. How could someone, totally unrelated to you, treat you with so much care. She thought about it for a few minutes, silent as she sat in her chair buried in her thoughts.

She had trusted them for so long, and they had never lead her to anything that was bad for her. If they were so sure about this, then there was no reason she shouldn't.

The pen felt heavy in her hand when she signed the exit contract. This was it. She was cutting ties with the company that had handled her for so long. Adding to that, leaving the people that surrounded and took care of her felt nothing more than melancholic. It felt like saying goodbye to her family.

But she believed that it wasn't the end. They were still going to see each other at some point, treat each other as long time friends. They have already carved out a space for them in her heart, and it was theirs forever.

She spent the remaining months of the year traveling and staying at home with her dogs. Somehow, she enjoyed her unemployment. She was basically jobless, not forever, but she tried to enjoy it as much as she can.

Her schedule was usually demanding and draining, sometimes sucking the life out of her. But she also enjoyed the rush, and the thrill and even the sleepless nights and days. More to it, she enjoyed mastering her craft, improving her skills, and developing her prowess. And most especially, she enjoyed putting a smile on her fans' faces. That was the most important thing.

Funny how she never even considered acting as a choice before. She went to a different country to study and finished a totally different degree. When she came home, it came as a surprise also to her when she started working as an actress. Destiny, probably.

Acting was not her choice, acting chose her. Good thing she had a natural knack for it, born with the gift of excellence in anything she dived into. She was a natural-born actor, exemplary in the craft that had grown on her. She had learned to love it.

She was fairly underrated. Mainly because she had started later than everyone else. Compared to others whom everyone saw grow up in their screens, she was still seen as a fresh face, shadowing her magnificent talent.

The awards and all the recognition meant nothing to her though. It was merely unimportant. She wasn't in the game for fame, she was in it because she enjoyed playing. Strengthening her skills, bettering her capabilities. That's what was important for her. Improving, getting better. She wasn't someone who settled for less and provided for less. She wanted to be better, not only for herself but also for her co-actors and the people who are looking up at her.

She was happy with her career already, but the breakthrough her old boss talked about made her feel a little excited. Who doesn't want a breakthrough? She's read the script for the drama they were offering her and it gave her goosebumps. It was going to be a challenging character, but it was complexly marvelous. She always loved a challenge, and this one was a challenge she was willing to take.

That's what she thought about as she walked through the unfamiliar halls of her new company. It was a new environment she needed to get used to.

It was a new journey, she thought. And she'll make sure it was a journey worth traveling.

Signing the contract was quick. The new people that were meant to take care of her seemed kind, and they all welcomed her with warmth. She almost felt like they were family now, a new family.

Just as she makes her way to leave the conference hall, the door opens, sending everyone turning their head to one direction.

What came in after was something she never expected. Someone, rather. Her feet were stuck on the ground, heart rate gradually raising, hammering against the walls of her chest.

"Annyeonghaseyo!" The familiar voice filled the silence.

She hadn't noticed that she was holding her breath until she felt her chest ache from the lack of oxygen. This was what he did, not only to her, but to everyone. He took people's breath away. His presence replacing the air in the lungs.

When he locks his eyes with hers, her breath falters out in a shaky blow.

Those eyes.

"Kim Soo Hyun!" Her new boss exasperates, a loud laugh following as he welcomed him with a hug. She could only stare, watching them exchange hugs and greetings. She swallowed an invisible lump in her throat because just like her, his eyes never left hers.

"Yea Ji-ah, I'm sure you know our Soo Hyun-ah here." The CEO's voice thunders inside the room as he gently pulls Soo Hyun with him, walking towards Yea Ji who was statued in her spot.

She summons all the strength and might from within her and clears her throat lightly. She forces out a smile, nodding her head politely.

"Sunbae-nim." She eyes him for a spilt second, nodding once more.

It almost takes him aback. Sunbae-nim. Oddly, the way she addressed him bothered him. It had been five years since she first called him that, the memory crystal clear in his mind. He could never forget the first time he heard her voice.

What he didn't expect was how she's back to calling him that. It had been embedded in his mind the way she used to call him Soo Hyun Oppa. How it felt warm and comforting whenever she did, how it brought a certain degree of serenity. But now, it felt like they were meeting once again for the first time. Back to square one. Total strangers. The barren coldness in her voice made him feel empty.

He forces out his own smile, though reluctant. He nods his head, unable to look away from her.

"I heard you two worked together a few years ago." Both of them nod in unison. The memory of the ad they shot a few years ago flood their memories. The first time they met.

"De. Just for a quick ad." It was Soo Hyun who decided to confirm. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"Well, if you accept the role, Yea Ji-ah, you guys would be working again."

"What do you mean?" Finally, Yea Ji found her voice.

"Well, he's the male lead of the drama we're offering you. If you choose to accept it, then you guys would be the main leads. So, I really hope you accept it, Yea Ji-ah. Both of you look so good together." Their boss nods his head as he looks at them back and forth.

She could only nod. She was totally taken aback by the information poured over her. Work together, both of them. Again. If only someone else knew about what happened the last time they worked together.

After a few more small talks, she finally managed to excuse herself. Her new boss bids his farewell with a warm fatherly hug, wishing her good luck and anoother triumphant welcome. She only looks at the man behind him, slightly nodding her head before she slides past the long table and walks out the door.

She releases a breath once she was out. She knew it wasn't impossible to run into him at some point. They were revolving in the same world, same business. It was inevitable. But she successfully managed to work without having to cross paths with him for so long, that when she met him today, totally unprepared and overwhelmed, she felt a slight rattle in her stomach.

And now, she was signed in the same agency with him, and may or may not work with him too. It felt like a train was rushing towards her in full gear, ready to slam against her out of her wits.

She was barely ten steps away from the door when someone suddenly grabs her hand. She immediately turns around, the shock making her jolt on her feet.

"Yea Ji. . . . ssi."

She stammered at the sight before her. Kim Soo Hyun, holding her wrist, so gentle and warm. His eyes were fixed on her, watching her as she looks down on his hand against her skin.

He immediately lets go, wary of the rationality of his impulsive action. He swallows an invisible lump, placing the hand he once had on her to the back of his nape. He suddenly felt warmth creep up to his cheeks, shy. He felt flustered with her presence and the way her eyes pierced through his.

There was something new in the way her orbs glowed. It was different from the ones that were blanketed with sullen shyness and sweetness. It was still there alright, but now there was something new. Confidence, a lot of them.

It made him weak in the knees. Flustered. Swivet. Now, he felt like he couldn't look her straight in the eyes. He can't even bring himself talk clearly.

"Uhm, " He lets out a breath. "Yea Ji-ssi. Do you want to go grab something to drink? They serve good coffee at the cafeteria." He tries to hold her gaze, but it was so intense he felt like he needed to look away.

He needed to look away to stop himself from advancing into something that might just freak her out. And that's the last thing he wants, freak her out.

Coffee. She almost wanted to chuckle. It also started with a cup of coffee. She unconsciously bit her bottom lip, thinking it through.

"You know, for old time's sake?" His anxiety was growing as he anticipated her answer. He was slowly trying to ready himself for whatever her answer is, slightly terrified if she said no.

She let's out a breath. For old time's sake. There was no reason to deny an old friend, acquaintance rather, a cup of coffee to share. It was just coffee. Well it was what she thought a few years ago too. Just coffee.

This time though, it's just going to be coffee. It had to be.

When she nods her head and releases a small smile, he almost wanted to jump up and down, fist the air like he did the first time she agreed to have coffee with him.

Shoving the fireworks of feelings erupting in him to the back of his head, he smiles. Stepping aside to lead her the way. She took cautious steps beside him, the fat obvious distance between them is failed to be unnoticed. But he doesn't push. He doesn't speak. He tries to bask in the silence between them, it wasn't as comforting as it was before, but it was with her, so he'll take it.

"Here." He enthusiastically pushes the glass door open, letting her enter first. Immediately, the smell of the freshly brewed coffee fills her nose, making her smile. She loved coffee. It never failed to comfort her in any way.

He found himself significantly jumpy, yet careful. He runs pass her, pulling a chair for her. He smiles, eyeing her shyly as she courteously nods, sitting down as he gently pushes it back.

He basically runs to the counter, ordering two cups of iced coffee. Watching her from behind, made him stop in his tracks. Her black silky hair cascaded down her back, sparkling under the sunlight that seeped through the glass walls.

Just as he remembered her, she sat with her back straight, her broad shoulders flat and hands clasped together on her thighs. She was anxious. She was like that the first time he had coffee with her.

And for some reason, it pulled out the melancholy in him.

He smiled through it as he carefully slides the cup of coffee towards her. He eyes her for a second as he took a seat, looking down immediately. She mumbled a soft 'thank you', her low voice sending a calm chill down the pit of his stomach.

His foot continued to tap against the tiled floor, his eyes fixed on his cup, his fingers holding it tight. He was nervous. Yet, he was excited.

Letting out a breath, he finally looks at her fully. Her light make up accentuated her features, her smooth glass skin glowing. She was beautiful, she has always been. And like she did the first time he saw her, she took his breath away.

He couldn't help but smile.

"How have you been?" He bites his bottom lip, anticipating her response.

She smiles. She's been trying to hold it in for a while, but she couldn't help it anymore. She smiles.

"I've been doing well. I guess you have too. I've heard you just got discharged from the military. Congratulations." She tells him with genuine sincerity, looking straight into his beautiful brown orbs.

He smiles, nodding his head. He had a scarcity of words. When he heard about her joining the company, he had thought of a million things he could say to her. Now that she was merely less than a meter away from him, he had nothing. He was enticed by her presence.

He didn't have this problem before, because whenever he had nothing to say, he would listen. He would sit in front of her, listening to her talk. She has the most beautiful, most attractive voice. And she loved to talked.

She talked endlessly whenever she was with people she was comfortable with, and he used to bask in the serenity and the calm that her voice brought. Her silence made him weary, has she lost the comfort she once felt for him long ago?

"It's nice to see you. It's been a few years since. . . . we" Broke up?

"Went our separate ways." She finished his sentence for him. She knew he had thought about saying they 'broke up' but they didn't.

It wasn't considered a breakup when they weren't anything, to begin with. They had just decided not to proceed with anything and went separate ways. It was complicated, but it was a mutual decision. Both agreed upon.

What happened to them was like fireworks. Sudden, beautiful and electrifying, yet short lived. It was a beauty not meant to last.

"Anyways, welcome to the company. I hope you consider taking the role, it would be nice to work with each other again. I would love to work with you." He says, hoping she feels the same way. It was true, he wanted to work with her. He had secretly watched all her movies, all her dramas, even the variety shows she was in.

She was a gem in the industry, and he hated how underrated she was. He saw how marvelous of an actress she is, and as an actor, he would love to work with someone with such dynamics.

It was just a bonus that it was her as well.

"I'll think about it. It would be an honor to work with you too, Sunbae-nim." She says, reluctantly nodding her head. There's so much to think about. So much to consider. But she was enticed by the complexity of the role that it would be so hard to let go of the thought of playing it.

As much as she would want to deny it, acting alongside him is inviting. He was a seasoned actor, talented and marvelous in his own right. The opportunity is one of a kind.

"Yea Ji-ah." The informality surprised her, making her stare. Making her heart make a small flip inside her chest.

"We were friends. We shouldn't be too formal. We are friends. Let's be friends? I-I want to be your friend. Yea Ji-ah." His voice almost started to tremble.

He was aware of how much she's changed. Evolved. She was already intimidating back then, now she was more than that. He almost felt like she was out of his league. And it slightly terrified him.

His breath falters when she pushes her chair back, fishing her phone to read a message. She stands up and politely nods her head.

He stares at her in bewilderment, slowly pushing himself up. His heart suddenly raced and slammed. Was she rejecting his offer of being friends?

He was about to say something, anything. But he doesn't get the chance because she smiles at him. Small but genuine.

"See you around, Soo Hyun Oppa."

He lets out a breath. A breath of relief as he watches her turn around and walk away. Dumbfounded, slightly, but he releases a triumphant smile.

The universe had been fairly cruel to them, but maybe it wasn't entirely. Sometimes the world breaks things apart so they could grow individually, so that when it's time to bring them back together, they would form an unbreakable beautiful whole.

#psycho but its okay #its okay to not be okay #kim soo hyun #seo yea ji #hyunji #hyunjicouple

93 notes · View notes

sweeethinny · 3 years

Text

The Duke - Chapter 6

thank you very much for the reviews! really. writing this fanfic has been quite a challenge, but I just love writing a drama, and maybe it sometimes has a questionable quality, but I have fun. thanks for letting me know that you guys are having fun too! and thanks to my favorite beta @theroomofreq, and @deadwoodpecker for listen my crazy ideas

AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE

| H. F |

‘‘The Dueling party?’’ His mother’s sweet but still loud voice rang out in Henry’s room, and her face contorted with joy and, it seemed, fear. '’This is something very big, don't you think? I mean… it's the dukes.’’ Arabella whispered the last part as if someone could hear them and take Henry off the guest list.

‘’I know.’’ He nodded, fidgeting with his hair nervously. ‘’But I need to go with Miss Weasley.’’ Her mother’s face contorted again, and even through the flames of the fireplace, he knew she was thinking that wasn’t a good idea. ''What's the problem?''

‘’There are none… really, I’m happy that one of us can at least step inside that castle.’’

''But…?''

‘’Henry, dear… It’s not our place. Who guarantees that Your Graces will treat you well? Especially when you're not going to be an employee of them, which they can send or dismiss, but you're an employee of Mr. Weasley. Entering through the front door.’’

‘’No need to worry, I’m always camouflaged among these people. I am at a safe distance from everyone, but I can still follow Miss. Weasley.’’ His mother sighed, and Henry wished he could hug her, try to calm her down.

‘’Well, Miss. Weasley could get married and get you out of this job, right? It’s so dangerous, son… You got hurt yesterday, and today you tell me that you were attacked.’’

‘‘We haven’t been attacked, Mom.’’ Henry looked at the small window beside him, night already falling like a gloom under the whole yard. ‘’I’m fine, she protected me.’’

''Poor girl ... How is she?'' He tried not to smile as he remembered how she yelled at him when he Apparated to their safe place, and how she made his heart ache when he realized that she was almost crying with only the idea of him being attacked in front of her.

''Good. We're close to finding a suspect.'' He shrugged, not to say that he had followed Mr. Weasley across borders and that the two had visited Yeovil a third time (fourth time, if he considered the time that went alone).

The city was still an endless war field, cold as if the winter were endless, with horrible cloudy weather, and so charged with the magic of darkness that it drained all your happiness out, being very difficult even to be able to smile. They had struggled to enter without causing confusion - as they did the first time - and Henry could still taste the blood in his mouth when he had to kill a Death Eater.

The boy should not have even reached the age of 20.

‘’I hope they’ll arrest the person soon. I miss you, and I’m so worried that you die or get hurt.’’ Arabella tried to smile, but Henry can see there were tears in her eyes.

''I will be fine. I promise.’’ He smiled at her, wishing he could hug her again. He hadn't seen his mother in almost a year. It was too risky to visit her and be in danger of being followed. There were some people who had reason to want to get back at him.

''Send me news. Now, tell me what you’ll wear at the Dueling Party. ’’

‘’Work clothes, mom. My black robes, and at most, the Auror coat of arms. It’s the best way to camouflage myself.’’

‘’Why don’t you try something new? Maybe you might meet a woman ..’’

''Miss Arabella, it is a party of the high aristocracy, there are no women for me there.'' Henry laughed, not wanting to delve into the thought that the only woman he wanted, he could never take out for a dance. Even though he always saw her at the back of the room, alone, looking at all the other couples while she just looked madly melancholy.

Henry would never understand why no one asked her to dance, when he was ecstatic at the thought of having her in his arms for a few minutes.

‘’If you say so,’’ The woman shrugged, then yawned. ‘’I’ll let you rest… please take care. I’m thinking you are too thin.’’

‘’I’m still the same.’’ He laughed, waving at her. ''Bye. Love You.''

‘’I love you, too.’’ And then she was gone, the flames turning red again, making him hear the sound of the loneliness that night provided. The elves' feet walking down the hall, the wind whipping the trees rough, some crickets and frogs, and a few creaking branches.

Henry sighed, lying on his bed and looking at the ceiling, trying to forget that morning...

As soon as Henry apparated inside their security location - a house where only Ginny was Secret-Keeper - he was greeted by Ginny's scream echoing through the empty house;

‘’You could have died!’’ She threw herself at him, hitting his chest with closed fists. ‘’Died! In front of me and I couldn't have done a thing!’’ Henry grabbed her fists, making her stop. Feeling a little shocked by the reception, even a little dizzy from her explosion.

‘’But I didn’t die.’’ He reminded her as if to say that tomorrow day would still dawn. ‘’And it was the best thing to do.’’

''The best? How is it best to leave me behind while I can see you being murdered in front of me?!’’

Better me, than you.’’ Henry remained calm, even though her skin seemed to burn his with proximity. The brown eyes staring at him as if they were going to read his mind - and Henry thought she would.

‘’Don’t say that.’’ Her voice came out with a tone of hurt that he had never heard before, not even when he met her on a bad day. ''Never. I am not worth more than you. And I'm not saying that to you to say that 'bla-bla-bla of course it is, because you're here to take care of me'... You are my best friend Henry, and I don't know what would happen if that spell had hit you and I saw you die in front of me.''

Best friend... She, a daughter of a Viscount, who had been promised to a son of Duke, who was one of the most powerful witches he had ever met, considered him her best friend.

He, a poor man, son of a harlot who died for her Death Eater lover, abandoned in a dirty gutter, condemned to die... Best friend of a daughter of a Viscount.

Of course, if it were up to him, they would be much more than best friends. Henry would do much more than take a peek at Ginny's sweeping curves, and he would never let her sit at the back of a ball, alone and bored. No, Henry would dance with her, spin that red-haired woman, so alive that reminded him of fire, all over the hall, as he had seen some men doing with their wives.

Henry might even dare to ask for her hand in marriage ...

But that was only if he was someone else. Henry Figg, Ginny Weasley's bodyguard, needed to settle for Best Friend.

| G. W |

‘‘You don’t look good,’’ George said, moving the chess piece and waiting for Ron to counterattack.

‘’Shouldn’t Henry protect you? Why did you almost die?’’ Ron asked, without even looking at his sister, paying attention to the board as if it were the most important thing of the moment.

‘’What are you two doing here still? I thought that now that you had houses, and responsibilities, you would spend less time here.’’ She complained, irritated to the last hair. She overheard when her father argued with Henry about putting her in danger, even though he couldn't have predicted it. Besides, the image of him dying in front of her continued to haunt her like an endless nightmare. ''Wants to know? Don't answer me. I'm going to lie down.’’ Ginny turned her back on the brothers, stamping her feet against the floor and running up the stairs.

It had been so terrifying to see the green light almost hit Henry, and she hadn't even raised her wand before the spell came out and protected him, almost making her believe that she could do magic with her bare hands.

All day, after the attackin the morning, she was locked up at home, like a prisoner. She overheard Ron talking to his father about Miss Granger (and then with George), she continued to read the news in the paper about the Dueling Party - that her parents were seriously considering not taking her. Ginny almost cried when she tried to fly and was stopped by Henry, who seemed almost sadder than she was doing that.

Ginny didn't cry, however, but she was silent all day.

It was so disconcerting to read about what each lady was wearing at the last party, or who they had been dancing with, while she could barely fly out in her own backyard. It was almost torture when Fred arrived at their parents' house showing the new broom he had bought, and when she saw, as a prisoner, through the bedroom window the brothers taking turns to test the new broom.

She could have fought and tried to convince Henry to fly with her, or that she wouldn't go more than two meters, but Ginny was so tired of living like that - or, not living - that she just nodded and sat in the living room, reading another stupid romance book that would only serve to make her realize how… empty, her life was.

Ginny, before the attack, had the opportunity to have, what she likes to call, a near life; she managed to make some ‘’friends’’, and it seemed that little by little people forgot that she had been promised to the Dukes' son and all the drama. Until, someone threatened her in the middle of the park, and her first reaction was to blow up the greenhouse where her mother was.

She didn't remember that day very well, the only thing she could remember was that she felt someone enter her mind and make her feel a lot of pain, and then the next moment was when she woke up on the floor, surrounded by dead plants, glass, and dirt, being watched by so many wizards that it looked like a festival.

Everyone looked at her as if she were a monster, who had almost killed her mother and injured 10 other people who were around (including a child, who almost died).

''Doesn't she know how to control her magic?'' ''I heard she was possessed by You-Know-Who.'' ''She did it so she could finally make headlines.'' ''I heard it was a way that her father found, for them to call attention to her.'' ''That is the dark arts, I'm sure.'' ''I always knew she was crazy...''

Everyone suddenly had a history and had witnessed some crazy Ginny. Everyone was pointing a finger at her. Everyone never let her forget when she lost control over her magic as a child.

But a child does not do as much damage as she did.

And if it was only once... There was that other day, after all the confusion, when her mother took her to a party to try to make everyone forget, and a Marquis tried to kiss her in a dark library when they accidentally met.. She tossed him away, startled when she was grabbed by the arms and tried to be kissed by force.

Apparently, it was a lot of fun trying to make her lose control of her magic and take on that strength that seemed to rip through her chest.

He was badly hurt, but no more than Ginny, who was so embarrassed and scared that she didn't leave the house for weeks. She could barely get to the newspaper without shaking for fear that there would be more lies about her.

''She wants to draw attention.'' ''I'm sure she was the one who provoked him.'' ''I don't even know what he saw in her.'' ''Her father must have paid for them to meet… a man like that would never want to see himself next to a madwoman like her.''

Ginny had never had much freedom, but after the attack, it was as if she could never do anything that involved getting out of the grounds of their home. She couldn't even fly alone, a brother always needed to be together. Until Henry arrived.

Henry was the closest person she would call a friend. They talked, he never seemed to doubt that she would be able, and even in the moments when he needed to deny her requests - like flying alone - he seemed upset about doing it. It was as if he felt the pain with her, somehow.

If she had seen her one and only best friend die in front of her, because of her, Ginny didn't know what she would do.

‘‘It’s okay, Dootie, I can do it myself.’’ She waved to the Elf who was waiting in the room, ready to undo Ginny’s hair (even though she had just done a simple braid), and helped her put on her pajamas.

‘’Are you sure, Miss Weasley?’’ The little creature asked, head down.

‘‘Yes, thank you.’’ And then, after closing the door, Ginny observed her daily arrest.

The window was ajar, magically made to always seem closed when someone looked outside, and the wind blew into the room and caused the curtains to swing. Ginny wondered what Henry was doing, and maybe, if it wasn't so late and so inappropriate, she could go up to his room for them to talk. She always felt more alone at night.

He had been very kind to her - as always - during the day, even when he needed to leave to speak to the boss by Flu, he had promised her that it was not her fault.

Which was a lie, because it was obviously her fault. She, and damn fate, who decided that it was not enough to be promised to someone at birth, but the man needed to be kidnapped, leaving her the burden of carrying a hope that would not be fulfilled, alone.

She felt guilty when she thought of the boy's parents, who had lost a child, at the same time that she was irritated since no one thought she could do anything about it, and that as much as Godric's Hollow had hoped that the Dukes would give the city an heir and keep it under control and away from any dark activity, Ginny had little to do.

But still, people liked to talk about her, as if she had been the cause of the kidnapping.

Tired of a day that seemed endless, Ginny lay down on the bed, fiddling with her wand to make the room a little colder than it already was, and hiding under the covers, where it seemed to be the only safe place in the world.

For a few moments, she let herself think about how handsome Henry was, and how she imagined that maybe, just maybe, he could look at her differently, and even forget about the social rules and just kiss her.

Unlike the Marquis, Ginny wanted Henry to kiss her.

Maybe he would undo her braid himself and compliment her hair... maybe Henry would compliment her like no one ever did. Ginny couldn't even think of what that would be like...

Ginny heard a noise in the corridor of her room, something like footsteps, and if it weren't for the fact that her parents slept upstairs, and that no more siblings lived there, that floor shouldn't make any noise except when she was the one walking. And she was lying down.

She grabbed her wand, her heart pounding against her chest, rising as quietly as she could, trying to assume who might be there so late.

The footsteps stopped just in front of her room, and when Ginny prepared to put into practice the many dueling lessons she had with Henry, the person knocked on the door;

‘’Ginny?’’ Her body froze behind the door, hearing the low voice seemed to echo down the empty hall.

‘’Henry?’’ Ginny didn’t let her guard down, knowing that everything could be a big trap. ‘’Where did we fly together for the first time?’’

‘’We never flew together.’’ She sighed, it was him. Opening the door slowly, afraid that the wood would creak and her mother would get up, Ginny just stuck her head out, a little ashamed that she was wearing pajamas so old and ugly.

The man also wore pajamas, but instead of being a faded pink nightgown, it was black sweatpants and a white tank top. A tank top that let Ginny see his arms precisely, tanned by the sun and so well defined that it made her squeeze her thighs and swallow. She knew that Henry was strong, but not that strong.

‘’Did something happen?’’ She asked, trying not to let him notice the lack of a bra or how transparent that fabric could be. Ginny was not the woman with the most striking curves, she knew that, the Marquis had made it a point to point out that she needed a lot of effort if she wanted to be as beautiful as the other women.

"I… I just came here to thank you for protecting me." He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking a little bewildered, without glasses, and his green eyes seemed to shine even in the little light that came through the hall window and the fireplace that Ginny kept burning.

‘It was instinct, I think.’’ She shrugged. ''Are you alright?''

‘’Yes.. yes.’’ Henry took a step forward, entering her room for the first time in 2 years. He had never passed the door. ‘’I came here just to thank you, and... and do this.’’ Then he kissed her.

It was completely different from the Marquis' kiss, and Ginny would never be able to explain why. But before she could understand why, her chest seemed to burn and tear, taking all the air out of her lungs, like squeezing a fruit until there is no more left liquid. Ginny thought she might be dying.

She opened her eyes and looked at the white ceiling above her, alone and lying on the bed, sweating as if she had run a marathon. When she tried to reach for the wand to make the room even colder, the wand seemed to spit out magic and snowflakes began to fall everywhere. She was getting out of control.

Desperate, Ginny applied all the tactics she knew to calm down, fearing that her room would be buried in the snow. The same tactics that Henry applied to himself in the room a few floors below, also feeling his chest burn and sweating, frightened by the dream and the snowflakes falling under his room.

#hinny #harry X ginny #Harry Potter #Harry and Ginny #read-a-hinny-fic #hinny fanfic #hinny au #royal au #Ginny Weasley

21 notes · View notes

justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 3 | Hello my sunshine boy

A/N: This will update every Thursday. There are 13 chapters. There are all sorts of kinds of D/s relationships. This is the one I choose to write this time.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship. When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian. Which is the one thing he never knew he needed. Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship. But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

This Chapter: Tom and Vivian slowly move forward and Tom discovers a thorn in his side named Benedict.

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Taglists are open! Please let me know if you wish to be added! Thank you for reading.

“You are positively glowing, Viv.” Her best friend Ashley commented as they sat down for lunch that Monday. “Don’t tell me you finally got laid. What has been seven, eight months?”

“Twenty-two, but who’s counting?” Vivian snapped back.

“You.” Ashley stabbed her fork at her. “So if it wasn’t sex, then what? Did you find a new esthetician? You have to give me the name. My pores are crying.”

“I found someone, but not an esthetician. A boy.” Vivian responded, coy, not wanting to reveal too much after just one date.

“A boy?” Ashley clapped her hands together in excitement.

Ashley’s perpetual joy could grate on Vivian’s nerves on worse days, but as her best friend throughout law school, she couldn’t imagine her life without Ash. Vivian shot her a glare.

“Yes.” She stabbed at her salad.

Ashley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You mean a boy boy?”

“Possibly. We’ve only been on one date.” She held up a finger. “Before you ask, a normal ‘vanilla’ date. Dinner.”

“But…”

Viv smiled. “But there is a… a… quality about him. So full of life and stinking positive. It’s intoxicating.” She shivered, remembering that kiss.

“Anything else?” Ashley blinked at her, knowing there was more to tell.

“He is also drop dead gorgeous and an amazing kisser.”

“Details, or it didn’t happen. First off, tongue or no tongue?”

“Not telling.”

“Boo.” Ashley pouted. “Give me something. What celebrity does he look like?”

Vivian stopped chewing to stop herself from choking. What a loaded question.

“Tom Hiddleston.”

“Ooooh,” Ashley cooed. “He is so hot.”

“But enough about me,” Vivian changed the subject before Ashley pushed much further. “How are things with Eric?”

Ashley poked at her food. “Things are not. He ghosted me a week ago.”

Vivian’s phone buzzed. It was Tom. She said a silent prayer that she had labeled him in her phone as T and not his full name as Ashley leaned over to read the message.

Thinking about you. Already finished one book you recommended. Thank you for that. They have been most helpful.

She smiled at the message.

“Is that the boy?” Ashley craned her neck. “Let me see.”

Vivian flipped the phone around for her to read.

“Awww. He is just the cutest. When are you seeing him again?”

“He is calling tonight and I imagine we will make plans then.”

Ashley danced a bit in her chair. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Tom ran double his usual miles that Monday morning. His body and brain were a jumble of nervous energy. He felt well… as giddy as a schoolboy. A feeling which had eluded him for quite some time. Once he returned and showered, he settled onto his couch with the second of the books Vivian suggested while listening to some music at a low volume. He ignored the buzz of messages on his phone until he finished the book.

Three missed messages and one phone call from Benedict. That man was like a dog with a bone for meddling and prying into Tom’s personal life. This had only gotten worse since Ben married and had kids. Now that he was coupled up, it seems Benedict was intent on getting Tom to the same status. Tom didn’t have the time, guts, or inclination to explain his desire for a relationship less ordinary. And reading those books only confirmed Tom’s suspicions about what he wanted.

He ignored Benedict and instead typed up a quick text to Vivian. She should be at lunch around now. While he waited for her to respond, Tom grabbed a script from the table and flipped it open. He wasn’t sure how he felt about starring in another period drama, but he promised his agent he would let them know yes or no by the end of the week.

There was a knock at his door. Tom opened the door. Benedict pushed his way into Tom’s home.

“You don’t write. You don’t call.” Benedict’s arms flailed about.

Tom frowned at his face. “Come on in, Ben. I’m not busy at all.” His voice oozed with sarcasm.

“If you answered your phone, I wouldn’t have to barge in like this. Hello.” Benedict continued to pace the floor.

“Hello.” Tom replied. He glanced into the living room and saw his stack of books in plain sight on the sofa. “Now what is so urgent it required you to come to my house in the middle of the day?”

“How did the date go?” Benedict flashed a gigantic smile at Tom.

Tom groaned and walked back into the living room. He shoved the books out of sight under a table. Benedict flopped down in their place.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on. I would tell you.” Benedict continued to smile as though he was a maniacal clown.

“Fortunately, I’m not you. Now if you please…” He gestured for the door. “… I have work to do.”

Tom shoved Benedict off the sofa and towards the door.

“Please something. A morsel. A tidbit.”

“Not even a scrap.”

“A name?” Benedict called out, a Hail Mary effort to extract something from his best friend. He can’t ever remember Tom being this tightlipped before.

“Vivian.”

“Last name?”

“None of your business. Goodbye Benedict.” Tom slammed the door in Ben’s face as he opened his mouth to say something.

Tom slumped onto the couch and stared down at the script he was reading. His phone buzzed.

Thinking about you too. Glad to hear about the reading. Talk to you soon.

Tom smiled and double checked to make sure his alarm was set for 10:55 that night. With a sigh, he grabbed the script and continued reading.

Vivian didn’t get home until almost 10:30 that night. The paralegal in charge of organizing the documents for her deposition tomorrow had up and quit, and she spent most of the day along with three first-year associates getting everything in order. Her body ached even after a quick shower, her brain was buzzing. It was also like that the day before depositions. She made a cup of tea and then settled into bed. Vivian tried reading, but her brain wouldn’t shut down. She didn’t keep a TV in the bedroom.

Her phone rang. Tom. Right on time.

“Hello?”

“Evening, darling.” His voice smooth and rich. Vivian’s shoulders relaxed. “How was your day?”

“Long. Yours?”

“Boring. Would you like to tell me about yours?”

“I don’t want to burden you.” Vivian pouted.

“I would be happy to listen.”

She perked up a bit and ranted about the kerfuffle that afternoon. Tom listened intently, interjecting words of encouragement along the way.

“It sounds like the whole thing is in your capable hands. I was wondering…” He paused. “Never mind.”

“No, what were you wondering about?”

“I was wondering if you would like to come over to my place and I could cook you dinner on Thursday.”

She smiled. “I would like that.” There was a pregnant pause over the line. She could sense his shyness and nerves through the phone. “Was there something else you wanted?”

Tom sighed into the phone. “Perhaps we could try a few things. Nothing sexual.” He quickly added. His stomach twisted into knots.

“I think that could happen. How about tomorrow I email you a list of some possibles and see what works for you?”

“Thank you. I would like that very much.” The pep in his voice returning. “I don’t want to keep you awake.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I can’t get my mind to shut down.”

“Have you tried reading?”

“I can’t focus.”

Tom hesitated. “I could read to you.” His voice quiet.

“You would do that for me?”

“Yes. Would you like me to read to you?”

Vivian’s body warmed over. “I would like that very much.”

“Let’s see you’re reading Anna Karenina.” She could overhear shuffling as Tom moved to his bookshelf to find his copy. “What chapter?”

“Thirteen.”

Tom thumbed through the pages until he reached the spot.

He cleared his throat before he began. “After dinner, and till the beginning of the evening, Kitty was feeling a sensation akin to the sensation of a young man before a battle. Her heart throbbed violently, and her thoughts would not rest on anything. She felt…”

Tom got halfway through Chapter 14 before Vivian dozed off, her breath heavy and even over the phone. Tom ended the call and headed to his bedroom to sleep himself.

Vivian woke up early the next morning feeling refreshed. Her phone lay next to her on the bed. With a stretch, she rose and set about making breakfast and a cup of coffee. She hadn’t planned on falling asleep during Tom’s phone call, but his voice soothed and slowed down her brain. Which reminded her to open her laptop. She shot off a quick email to Tom giving him some ideas for Thursday.

This is a list of what may happen, not will happen.

Kneeling

Petting/stroking

Kissing

Shirt off (you)

Pants off (you, underwear stays on)

Referring to me as “ma’am”

symbol of ownership (cuffs/collar/leash)

Hair pulling/tugging

Pet name for you (boy, puppy, etc.)

She requested he let her know and to add anything for discussion, and they could talk about it more tonight. She requested he call again at 11. Vivian then clicked send and readied for the day.

The first thing Tom did when he woke that morning was check his email. He found Vivian’s and opened it.

His eyes widened as he read the list. He hadn’t thought about the idea of “ownership” yet. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that just yet. But the kneeling, petting, and titles all sounded exciting. He shot back a response, letting Vivian know his preferences and then headed out for a run.

Vivian responded to Tom’s email during the lunch hour, saying they could talk more about it that night. She spent the rest of the afternoon in ongoing meetings on a new corporate fraud case her firm just took on.

Tom read a few scripts that morning, one a drama based on an obscure book he never heard of and another a romantic comedy. After a quick lunch and more pressure from Benedict via text, Tom grabbed for the third book Vivian recommended to him. He glanced at the title Leading and Supportive Love: The Truth about Dominant and Submissive Relationships by Chris Lyon. As he delved in, Tom realized how woefully inadequate his own research had been.

The more he read, the more Tom wanted this. How he wanted to surrender and submit within a lovely romantic relationship. He had always been attracted to strong women. However, Tom found time and time again that his girlfriends looked to him to initiate. And not just sex. And with that, the relationship soured as resentment and disappointment permeated on both sides. He resigned himself to settling, convinced what he wanted didn’t exist. and then he discovered the dominant/submissive relationship community. Too scared to hunt out a pro-domme, Tom settled on the dating profile on a vanilla website.

His alarm rang at 10:55 and he grabbed his copy of Anna Karenina and settled onto the couch to call Vivian.

Vivian settled into bed ahead of Tom’s phone call. She planned on asking him to read to her again. He called at exactly 11 again and she wondered if he stared at his phone waiting for the minutes to count down.

“Hello my sunshine boy.” She greeted him.

Tom smiled. “Sunshine boy?” his tone not accusatory but questioning.

“Because you are as golden and bright as the sun.”

“I like that. I enjoy being your warmth and sunshine.”

“Good, because it’s your pet name now. Speaking of…. Thursday.”

“Right.” Tom squirmed. Thursday was a big day. “Tell me how it will work.”

“So we will establish the rules and protocols tonight, and they are in place until I leave. Anything on the list is fair game. I expect you to comply with my requests. If there is anything not on the list we wish to explore, consent and discussion will happen beforehand. If at any point, you feel uncomfortable and wish to disengage, you can use a safety word. What would you like your safety word to be?”

“Sushi.” Tom responded. “That all sounds fine. And I should call you…”

“Ma’am for now.” She smiled. “Now will you read for me again, please?” Her tone gentle but firm.

“Yes, ma’am.” he tried it out. It felt nice. “Where did I leave off?”

“Please.”

Tom grabbed his book and flipped it open to where he marked his spot with a bookmark. “That must be Vronsky, thought Levin, and, to be sure of it, glanced at Kitty. She had already had time to look at Vronsky, and looked round to Levin. And simply from the look in her eyes, that grew unconsciously brighter, Levin knew that she loved that man, knew it as surely as if she had told him so in words.”

Vivian dozed off soon after Tom began, and he ended the call before falling asleep on the couch himself.

Wednesday seemed to drag for both of them in anticipation for Thursday night. Tom busied himself with cleaning his house, which had grown cluttered now that he was back living there full time. In between the mopping of the floors and shoving a third load of laundry in the washer, Tom finished up the third and fourth books Vivian told him to read. He had two left. Tom also made a special trip to the store and gathered the ingredients for dinner. He was tempted to make Bolognese but thought Italian two dates in a row might be a bit much and instead settled on a lovely roast dinner with all the fixings. Tom even went so far as to call his mother for tips.

“Trying to impress a girl, I take it?” Diana Hiddleston mused as she explained how to make Yorkshire pudding.

“A woman, Mother.” he corrected her. “She’s not just some girl.”

“Clearly if you are contemplating baking for her. I hope she is worth all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” Tom scribbled down notes in handwriting he was certain to be unable to decipher later. “Now for a pudding…”

Diana chuckled as she listed off a few simple recipes for Tom to try.

Vivian left work two hours early on Thursday in order to get and ready and head over to Tom’s in time. He texted her the address that morning. He continued to call her at 11 and read to her every night. It was a small comfort, and she looked forward to it every evening.

Her fingers ran along the clothes hanging in her wardrobe, contemplating how dressy to go. She lighted on a long floral cotton maxi dress with a high slit on the side. Vivian paired with a wedge and a light jacket and grabbed her phone and purse before catching an Uber over to Tom’s.

Tom couldn’t remember the last time his palms sweated before a date. But they were and causing him to bobble in the kitchen, nearly dumping all the roasted potatoes on the ground. He was just pulling out the Yorkshire puddings when his doorbell rang.

Tom sprung into action, running to the door, shedding the apron along the way and smoothing down the front of his button-down shirt. He opened the door to find Vivian standing there smiling.

“Evening,” he started, smiling. “ma’am.” he added quickly.

“That’s my sunshine boy.” she responded, stepping into his foyer. She grabbed him by the back of neck and kissed him. Tom’s hand landed on her shoulders. She pulled him forward twice by the neck as they kissed before releasing him.

“Allow me to take your jacket, ma’am.” Tom moved to behind Vivian and waited until she nodded before slipping it off her shoulders and hanging it on a nearby hook.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Care for a tour?” He extended his arm towards the living room.

“Lead the way.” She reached out and held onto the back of his neck before sliding it down to the small of his back. He shivered at her touch. “Okay?” She checked in with him.

“Fine. I just… I’m not used to people touching me there.” he replied, shy and self-conscious.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, use your word.” She used her other hand to smooth down his hair.

“Yes, ma’am. I like it.”

“Then I’ll keep doing it.”

Tom smiled as she smoothed down his hair and he continued with the tour. Vivian took in every inch of Tom’s home. It was clean and well furnished. She enjoyed the large bookcase covering an entire wall in his study, along with an impressive DVD collection. She spied a few family photos in the bedroom on the dresser in front of his king size bed. They returned to the kitchen right as the oven timer went off.

Tom stepped away and grabbed an oven mitt and pulled his tart from the oven. Vivian glanced over his shoulder to see a full roast dinner, Tom had gone all out for her.

“I’m impressed, good job.” She kissed his cheek.

He blushed at her praise. “I may have gone a bit overboard.”

“Nonsense. Now get me a glass of wine please.” She directed before sitting down at the table Tom had set.

“Red, white, or I have champagne, ma’am?” He stood by the fridge, waiting.

Vivian wrinkled her nose. “Champagne makes me sneeze. Red.”

Tom nodded and grabbed a bottle from the counter which he opened and poured them both a glass. He handed Vivian’s hers first before setting his on the table and returning to the kitchen. Vivian slid his glass over to her side of the table and sipped hers. Tom had great taste in wine.

He returned to the table and set her plate down for her and then himself before sitting. Tom glanced around for his glass of wine.

“No wine for you tonight.”

Tom opened his mouth and contemplated his next words as Vivian sipped her wine, staring at him. “Yes, ma’am.” He sounded disappointed but pulled his glass of water close.

Vivian reached out and stroked his arm. “Don’t worry, my sunshine boy, there will still be plenty of fun to be had.” He perked up a bit. “How is your reading going?”

Tom finished chewing before answering. “Great. I am on book number 4. Just two more to go and then my 500 word essay. May I write more than 500 words?”

“Yes, but no more than a 1000.”

Tom nodded and Vivian tucked into the roast. It was juicy and seasoned to perfection. “Whose recipe did you steal?”

“My mother’s.” Tom replied. “Excuse me for a moment.” He stood and left for the kitchen, returning with a gravy boat and the bottle of wine. He held up the gravy. “May I, ma’am?”

“Yes please.” She held up her plate to close the distance. Tom poured a healthy amount of gravy on the plate before serving himself. “And your work? Your scripts?”

Tom sat back down. “Tedious. If I am not playing a spy, they want me to play a stuffed shirt in a cravat and waistcoat.”

“I bet you are dashing in a cravat and waistcoat.” She smirked at him, aware Tom would be dashing in a potato sack and tissue boxes.

“There is one that caught my eye. I wondered if you like to take a look at it.”

“What kind of movie?”

“Romantic comedy.”

Vivian giggled. “Do they still make those?”

Tom narrowed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Would you like to take a look? Ma’am?”

“Maybe later.” She sipped her wine. Tom held the bottle up. “No, thank you. I have work tomorrow.”

Tom nodded and set the bottle down. “How are the depositions going?”

“As well as can be expected, but this case isn’t won or lost through depositions.”

“How is it then?”

“By who blinks first.” She deadpanned. “And I am a world class champion in staring contests.”

Tom shook his head, taking his last bite of potato before standing to clear the plates. “Remind me never to cross you.”

Vivian leaned back in her chair. “I guarantee in six months you will beg me to punish you.”

She chuckled as the plates clattered in the sink before he turned on the water to let them soak during dessert. Vivian enjoyed pushing when the mood suited her. And Tom suited her just fine.

He returned with his Bakewell tart, two plates and forks. “I noticed you didn’t eat much of the chocolate dessert on Sunday.”

“It was fine, but not my favorite. Thank you for noticing.”

Tom cut up the tart and served up a small slice to Vivian and took a larger piece for himself.

“Don’t you worry about gaining weight?” she questioned.

“I run at least three miles a day, although since I met you that has doubled. And I have a fast metabolism. It is very hard for me to put on muscle mass. Ask my trainer.”

“I just might.” She took a bite and moaned. “Delicious.”

Tom licked his lips and took a bite, moaning. “That is delicious.” he mumbled, his mouth full.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” She pointed a finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.” He covered his mouth and swallowed.

“You don’t need to apologize, Tom.” Vivian reached out and rubbed his arm. “Fix it the next time.”

Tom leaned into her hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian ate most of her dessert while Tom polished his off.

“All done?”

She wiped her mouth and finished up her wine. “Yes, thank you. That was delicious. I need you to cook for me more often.”

Tom chuckled as he cleared the plates. “I’ll keep that in mind. If you like, you can take a seat in the living room while I clean up.”

“I’d rather stay in here with you.”

“Of course.” He hustled over to the sink and turned on the water. He rinsed the plates and utensils while Vivian sat at the table and watched. She took the sight of his backside in the jeans he selected for the evening. Very nice. She couldn’t wait to redden those cheeks when the time came.

She stood and joined him after Tom put away the leftovers and turned his attention to the pans. As he scrubbed, Vivian came up behind him and petted the back of his head and neck. He leaned against her hand and Vivian swore he purred.

“That feels nice, ma’am.” he hummed, but not stopping his washing.

“Finish up and come to the living room, sunshine boy.”

She tugged his hair once before releasing his hair and walking out of the kitchen. Vivian surveyed his DVDs while Tom finished up. She could hear the water turn off and the pans clanging together as he put them away. Vivian remained standing.

Tom walked into his own living room as though he were a stranger. His hands fidgeting in front of him.

“I won’t bite, Thomas.” she smirked. “At least I won’t bite tonight.”

Tom gulped and shifted his weight. “Yes, ma’am.”

She circled him like an animal on the prowl. Her fingers ran along the width of his shoulders. He shivered again. Vivian stopped and took a step back.

“Are you still doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Please don’t stop.” His blue eyes begged her to touch him again.

She nodded and slid her hand down his back before bringing it up his neck and into his hair.

“Take off your shirt.”

Tom hesitated for a moment before unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

“Fold it and place it on the table.”

Tom’s mouth dropped open, and he stood still. Vivian walked in front of him.

“I don’t enjoy repeating myself, sunshine.”

Tom scrambled into action. “Yes, ma’am.” He folded the shirt like they would in a retail store and then spun in place. There were three tables in the room.

“The small one with the lamp, please.” Tom sighed in relief and placed his shirt down.

“On the couch, on your back, hands behind your head.”

Vivian leaned down to unbuckle her wedges, slipping them off and placing them by the armchair. Tom positioned himself on the couch, taking up the entire length. Vivian licked her lips at the sight of Tom. The hint of chest hair. His Adonis belt and treasure trail. She made a mental list of things to do in the future to Tom.

She hitched her skirt up to straddle Tom’s torso. “No touching.”

Tom nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian leaned down to his face, her hands slid up his bare chest to his neck. One hand pressed Tom’s shoulder into the cushions while the other cupped his cheeks. Her thumbs ran along his sharp cheekbones before reaching the temples. Vivian’s fingers laced into Tom’s hair and then she tugged him into her.

Tom’s lips sighed into her. Vivian took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth. He wiggled underneath her but his hands stayed behind his head. She pulled back and Tom leaned forward, wanting more.

“Do you want more?” she teased. Her hand firmly in his hair.

“Yes, ma’am.” He panted.

“Beg.” She tugged his head towards her, stopping just short.

“Please!” He begged not only with his words but his eyes too. “Please kiss me, ma’am.”

She tugged his head around again and pressed her lips against his. He breathed into her and she slipped her tongue in again. Tom did the same. He wiggled underneath her again. Vivian stopped, and shifted her position, her knees on Tom’s chest, her toes teasing along his crotch. His pants tenting from the feel of things.

They continued kissing like that for some time and Tom stopped wiggling. She pulled away, Tom leaned forward, wanting more.

“More, please, ma’am.” he pleaded.

Vivian pushed off of him. Her hand skimmed along his cock. It twitched under her touch and Tom moaned.

“No, not tonight. Sit up, please.” Vivian stood. Tom sat up, his lips swollen. His eyes glassy.

Vivian sat down at one end of the couch and settled in. “Kneel.”

“Yes ma’am.” He slid down the couch to kneel on the carpet by Vivian’s leg. “Never imagined anyone would say that to me.” he commented.

“Get used to it, sunshine.” She smoothed down his rumpled hair. He leaned against her legs at her touch, pressing his side against him. Vivian smiled as Tom hummed while Vivian continued to stroke and pet his hair and neck. She scratched his scalp, and he gasped.

“You’re such a good boy, sunshine.” Vivian purred. “My good boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian looked around the room and spied a small bookcase stuffed to the brim with books.

“Read to me, Thomas. Please”

He stood, not ready to miss out on Vivian touching him. He reached for Anna Karenina. Vivian touched his arm.

“No, something from your bookcase. Surprise me.”

Tom walked over to the bookcase and examined the shelves before selecting a small notebook.

“It’s a collection of poems.” he offered, he ran his finger along the spine.

“Perfect.” Vivian beckoned him back. “Kneel and read to me, please.”

Tom’s face lit up, and he resumed his position, head leaning against Vivian’s lap.

Tom cleared his throat and Vivian’s hand laced back through his hair and his shoulders relaxed. “Leda and the Swan by William Butler Yeats.”

“Interesting choice.”

“A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.”

After he finished the first poem, Vivian asked him to read another and then a third. His eyes closed as her hands continued to smooth and stroke his head. Tom’s body hummed. He felt… safe. Like he was home and everything would be alright.

Vivian feared he had fallen asleep. “Thomas?” she whispered.

“Yes, ma’am?” He turned his head.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Better than okay.”

“Stand up, please.” Tom stood. “It’s time for me to go home. Walk me to the door.”

Tom’s head dropped but nodded. Vivian lingered by the front door. Her finger drawing intricate circles on his chest.

“That was…” Tom’s chest heaved as he put Vivian’s jacket on her. His body ached as though he ran fifty miles. Tom’s brain felt fuzzy and heavy. His heart full and content.

“Yeah,” Vivian finished his sentence. “For me too, sunshine boy.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, he leaned his head into her, wanting to kiss her palm but not daring to do so.

With her shoes back on her feet, she stood almost as tall as Thomas. She pecked his lips, soft and sweet and Tom returned the kiss in kind. Her stomach fluttered.

“I would like to do this again.” Tom commented as they parted.

“I was hoping you would. How would you feel about having a kissing date on Saturday night? I’m afraid I’m busy tomorrow.”

“What’s a kissing date?”

Vivian pecked his lips and rubbed his neck one more time before opening the door. Tom stumbled forward, craving her skin on his.

“I’ll text you the protocols tomorrow morning. Sleep well, sunshine.” One more kiss and then the door shut behind her.

Tom leaned against the wall, clutching his chest. He didn’t know if he would last until Saturday.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x ofc #sub!tom #follow my lead #hiddlestoners #hiddlesfic

28 notes · View notes

bizarre-alien · 3 years

Text

Saturday Morning

I made a short Erasermic fic on Saturday, and I just wanted to post this here because why not! It takes place when they were in their 20s, and Shota is gonna do something bold after a night of clubbing with Hizashi which, apparently, didn't turn out so well!

Saturday mornings were hard sometimes. Waking up hungover while my brain tries to recollect memories of last night only makes me numb with this dull melancholic ache in my chest. I stretched out my limbs across my bed to find that I was all alone. “Shocker.” I thought to myself sarcastically. I slowly turned my body over to get my phone that was on my nightstand. To my surprise, it was hooked up and charged. “No, I was too drunk to do something this responsible.” I mumbled as I unplugged it. There were some unread messages from Yamada, and it brought this warm feeling inside that my heart seemed to crave.

“Last night was WILD! Please text me when you wake up. I need to know you lived! 😭”

“I did lay you on your side with a bucket, pukey! 🤣”

“OMG ARE YOU ALIVE?? I MISS MY BEST FRIEND!”

“I should’ve just crashed on your couch instead of taking the cab back to my place… Could’ve saved myself from stress and money… LMAOOO”

“SHOOOOOOTAAAAAAAA”

I couldn’t help but to laugh at his sweet attentiveness. He never failed to put a smile on my face even if he wasn’t around. I took a selfie and sent it to him. “I lived, bitch. 😤”

I felt my stomach shock from anticipation as I saw the ellipsis pop up. “YOU LOOK GOOD FOR A DEAD BITCH!!” The ellipsis came up again. “Also, you looked cuter than me in the shirt I let you wear. If you wanna keep it, you deserve it! I have your shirt, and it’s nice and clean! I think I’ll wear it today!”

I couldn’t help but to blush at his remark. “It’s mine now. I’ll take good care of it.” I looked down to see which shirt it was, and I gasped. It was an exclusive shirt from one of his favorite bands that he got at a live show. The exact one that he said he wanted to be buried in. “WAIT ARE YOU SURE BC I JUST SAW WHICH ONE IT WAS”

“It’s okay!! I’d rather see you wear it instead. 💖”

“... That’s very sweet…”

“How do I look? I’m going for that Shota Aizawa look. Don’t mind my lack of pants, please. 🥰🤣” His selfie nearly made me drown in affection. He looks so good in my shirt… And his legs...

“*Chef’s kiss* You rn…” Were we flirting, right now?? No. He has someone, right? “Wait… Are you flirting with me to make your so jealous? What did he do wrong, now? 🥴” The ellipsis came up, but went away… Then again… Then nothing. I began to worry. “Zashi, I’m playing. You know that, right?” The other end was radio silent, and I felt anxiety surge through me. Was it a sore topic and I didn’t know? Did I just ruin our friendship? I mean, how would that screw everything up? After all we’ve been through for the past 7 years, that couldn’t have been the final straw… right? I was pulled from my overthinking by my phone vibrating. It was Zashi calling, and I picked it up immediately. “Was that a bad thing to say? Because I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt-!”

“It’s okay, Sho!” He chuckled reassuringly to me, but I could hear the pain in his voice. “I forgot that you black out when you’re drunk… No, me and him are done. You broke his nose when I came to you crying about it. We had to leave the club because of all the drama, but no one knew who we were… Thank God, right?”

“Yeah…” I was silent for a moment as I tried to remember what happened.

“Sho! We’re leaving. Come on!” Hizashi roared as he made his way to me.

“Hold, hold, hold. What happened?” I stopped him in his tracks and grabbed his arms. “Zashi, are you okay? Where’s-?”

“Who cares? I hate him! Let’s go!”

“But you left me to blow him in the bathroom! What do you mean you hate him, now-?”

“I wish I didn’t, and I’m so sorry! He’s a monster in disguise, but I was too stupid to notice AGAIN!!” Zashi burst into tears as he held onto me tightly. We stumbled a bit, but I held him back with all I had. I feared that this was gonna happen.

“I knew there was a reason why I couldn’t stand him.”

“Baby, you got it all wrong! I love you, Hizashi! I wanna marry you!” I heard the voice of Zashi’s former lover, and the alcohol in me decided to take control of my body.

“You take another step, and you’ll regret it! Don’t think I won’t have you on the ground, you piece of garbage!”

“Sho, let’s just get out of here! I gotta go!” Hizashi pushed me towards the exit. “It’s not worth it!”

“Hizashi!” The moment he grabbed Hizashi’s arm, I went feral.

I dug my nails into his wrist to get him to let go of my best friend. “Piss off!” I roared as I got Hizashi behind me. Before I could register anything, I felt my right fist connect with his nose hard enough that it sent a shock up to my shoulder. “I knew you were trash the moment I laid eyes on you! You don’t deserve Zashi!” I wanted to go for more, but I felt a multitude of hands grasp at me and pull me towards the exit. I managed to spit on Zashi’s ex before we were escorted out of the club.

“Oh my God, Shota! That was intense!” Hizashi grabbed my shoulders and shook me. His makeup was smeared from his tears, but it made him look like an ethereal being. “You good?”

“Mmh.”

“I can’t believe you did that for me! You’re so sweet! Oh my gosh, like you- Oh, God!” He backed up as he looked at me again. “Alleyway. Alleyway!” He guided us to the alleyway and held my hair the moment I let everything out. “Oh, God. It’s on your shirt. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” When I spat out the remains, he gently took off my soiled shirt. “You are so lucky that I have on something sexy underneath this tee! I guess this may be a sign to dress sexy for myself instead of waiting for someone to see it in private, huh?” He pulled off his band tee and handed it to me with a smile. He had on a fishnet long sleeve bodysuit with nipple coverings, and he looked like the biggest rockstar in that moment… but, that was my best friend… My best friend is the biggest rockstar and he’s holding my gross shirt.

“You’re so freaking nice, Zashi!” I began to tear up as I put on the shirt. “I’m so sorry!”

“I should be sorry! I didn’t listen to you. I just listened to his dick!” We laughed like a couple of hyenas as we took our drunken selves to our favorite place to eat when we drank our weight in booze.

“Zashi." I sighed and shook my head. "I’m so sorry."

“Thanks. It hurts, you know? He wasn’t who I thought he was. I guess… I don’t know how to pick ‘em, huh?” He tried to laugh, but he went quiet.

Never in my life did I want to reach out to him through the phone and hug him as much as I do now, but all I could do was hug him with my words. “You have a big heart and a warm presence that deserves to be honored and cherished, and he just didn’t get it. If I had the chance, I’d punch him again. You deserve so much better, and you will get that.”

“When, Shota?” There was a pause.

“When the time and place is right.” I wanted to say right now and with me, but I chickened out. “That person will love you and nurture your heart, and that person will be the most lucky human in all existence and memory.”

“I wish it were-” He paused and sighed. “I wish it happened now.”

I felt my heart jump and my mind started to race. Did he want me? Should I risk it all? Were we both too afraid of screwing up our friendship? “Hizashi…”

“Hey, do you mind if we meet up somewhere? Your place, my place, a restaurant… Anywhere, honestly! I just need to see you. Sorry if that sounds clingy. I just-”

“Of course! I would love to meet up. You’re going through a tough situation, and I’m more than happy to be there for you.” I smiled. “You can come over to my place and we can decide if we wanna go out or not.”

“That sounds good. I’ll get coffee on the way, okay? I know you need it.” He chuckled.

“You’re the best.” I sighed in relief. “I think coffee would solve a lot of problems, right now.”

“Hey, Shota?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to know how much I value our friendship. We had rocky moments, but there isn’t a day that I’m not grateful that we smoothed things out. I can freely be myself around you, and that’s really rare nowadays because all these fakes are roaming the streets.”

“It doesn’t help that you’re well known, huh?” I joked.

“Exactly! You keep me from losing my mind… You inspire me, you encourage me, and I know I can be vulnerable with you and you wouldn't judge me for it! I just really love- Ugh... No, I should stop. I’m getting sappy.” He burst into laughter.

“Funny enough, I needed to hear that.” I blushed and rubbed that back of my neck. “Hizashi, I actually wanna talk to you about something when you get here. It’s important to me, so that’s why I wanna wait.”

“Oh, for real? I’m not in trouble, am I?”

He was so cute. “No, not at all!” I snorted.

“Good! Give me a few minutes, okay? I’ll be there in a bit.”

“In Hizashi minutes, right? I'm guessing that it'll be an hour before you get here.”

“Shut up, man! I can’t help the fact that I’m a high maintenance scatterbrain!” He whined on the other line.

“Whatever. Just get here when you get here. You know where the spare key is, so I’m gonna take a shower and clean up the place a bit.”

“Sounds good!”

“Okay, cool. See you then.”

“See you!” He sang then hung up.

I looked at my phone with a whirlwind of emotions. The comfort of his voice still in my heart, but it wrestled with the anxiety that I felt in my chest as I knew what I set myself up for. The timing seems wrong, but I was so caught up that I could care less. What if he hates me for even confessing now? Yet again, it seemed that he was dying for me to confess… I just know that this is the last Saturday morning I wanted to spend hungover by myself. I wanted to wake up to messy blond hair in my mouth, limbs entangled, and the sweet smell of his natural scent mixed with the ghost of his perfume of choice from the night before.

The feeling was so strong that I clutched my pillow for dear life, and I couldn’t tell what kind of tears were falling from my eyes. All I could do is lay there and imagine what could possibly become a reality while also fear that I could make this imagery impossible if I said the wrong things. Funny enough, this hurricane of emotion is something that I’m just observing. Somewhere deep in my core, I felt a sense of relief and peace. And it was that very peace that gave me the strength to get up and get ready for a life changing discussion with my best friend.

Thank you! Bye!

#erasermic #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #yamada hizashi #hizashi yamada #hizashi x shouta #maizawa

8 notes · View notes

jokertrap-ran · 4 years

Photo

Collar X Malice ~Unlimited~ Shiraishi Kageyuki Character CD’s Mini-drama Translation

「 Steam with Two」

*Commissioned by a Shiraishi fan , Thank you! *Spoiler free: Translations under cut

Commissions are still open!

Collar X Malice Character CD: Mini-Drama [Steam with Two]

This is a convenient dream for one such as I. Of a future to come that may or may not happen on a stroke of good luck. Although, no one knows for sure whether what’s happening now is an illusion or reality itself. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that it is a treasured time of mine.

The time that I can spend with her without any distractions in the way is calm, peaceful; warm and welcoming. It’s really heartwarming. And even if I’m still unsure of it, I’m pretty certain that these feelings blooming within my chest are real.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Heh~? So this is the famed Hot-Spring Inn in Kyoto? What tasteful preferences you have. We could have gone overseas, you know. Who would have thought that you’d be okay with just a trip to the Hot Springs?

Well, it’s also my first time going to one so I’m looking forward to seeing how it turns out. I guess I wouldn’t have ever stepped foot into one in my entire life if it wasn’t for you.

Yes, yes; don’t tug on me. The Inn won’t be running anyway from you anytime soon.

Now that we’re here...Was pillow-fighting one of the first things you should do in a place like this, again? No? I see. Then is it only something one does at night? I see, so that’s how it is. Speaking of, wasn’t there a rose bath here? You were reading a pamphlet on the Inn and I happened to oversee it. But that’s girls-only so do tell me how it is later on! Let’s head on straight to the Hot Springs once we set our belongings down. I’ll be entering too so how about we decide on a time to meet back up again?

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

So this is a Hot Spring...Seems like there are different properties in the water depending on the area…? This one here revitalizes the skin, helps with muscle aches and...beautiful skin? Does this mean that she’ll come out with silky smooth skin? It’s usually nice to the touch; I wonder how much it’ll change once she gets out of there. Oh, yes; maybe I should ask her to let me touch her skin once she gets out later. I’m usually satisfied with just a shower, alone, but who would’ve thought that soaking in such a large expanse of hot water’s this calming?

They have different colours and scents in the many areas and there’s even water coming out from that area over there. Heh. This might be more interesting than I originally thought it was. Still, it’s a little lacking in something...It feels as if I can’t get the full experience alone by myself. I wonder if she’s enjoying the rose bath right now? Strange...People are normally just pawns and I have no qualms using them to attain my goal. Else, they’d simply be observational subjects for the greater good; that’s all they were to me. I knew that I’d always be alone out in the world and that was how I lived, more or less. There are times when it’s relaxing to be close to her, but sometimes, it makes my heart flutter and become abuzz with something. Choosing my words wisely, thinking twice about my actions and worrying about what I can do to make her happy. This love was something that I thought I could live without ever knowing; It was thanks to this that I learnt how important it was to understand others. She’s something I’ll never let go of. For someone like me, someone who doesn’t hope; who doesn’t dare hope. She is the one thing I’ll never lose.

I can no longer return to pretending not to know. I wonder if I’m broken? She was the one who broke me.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Hmm...she’s late. I do hope she didn’t fall asleep while she was still in the rose bath. I don’t think that’s even possibly, actually. But she did say that she didn’t manage to sleep quite well yesterday since she had trouble falling asleep...Now I’m concerned. And peeking into the girl’s bath...no, that’s a bad idea after all. Oh? Thank goodness! Seems like you’re still in one piece. No; I was just worried because you were late. I thought that perhaps you fell asleep while soaking in the hot water or maybe you spaced out for too long and got yourself into an unfortunate accident.

What, so you were running late because you were drying your hair? Me? I’m fine with my hair being a little on the wet side. You want to dry it for me when we return to our room? Mmph...You’re so coddling. Maybe it’ll be more manly for me if I leave it to dry on it’s own. Let’s head back then. Hm? This scent...I knew it! You have a sweet scent wafting off you. It’s nice. Oh! So, how was the hot spring? Did it make your skin beautiful like they were advertising? Hm? But I can’t check for myself unless I get up close and it’s not like I can enter the rose bath either. Plus, I can’t check and see the effects of the Hot Spring if I don’t touch your skin, right? That’s why, hugging’s the easiest way out! I wonder if the scent will stick onto me too if we stay like that long enough. It might not be too bad to have the same scent as you.

Embarrassed? Isn’t this amount of skinship normal though? I mean, even you pull off antics that leave me shocked at how embarrassing it is at times. Yes, yes. Well, I got to see an interesting expression of yours so I guess all’s well and fine. Besides, we’ve got an entire day to ourselves so I can always throw a hug your way. Yeah, I’m happy. Of course, I was also looking forward to this trip with you.

I seemed no different from my usual self? You’re as dense as ever. Won’t you have figured it out if only you had observed me a little more?

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

It’ll be boring if we just returned to our rooms and there’s still some time before dinner is served so a walk would have worked too...what are you doing? Table-tennis? Even I know what tennis is. It’s the thing where you take rackets and hit the ball with it, right? Seems like these paddles are free for all Inn guests to use.

Hm~ You sound pretty confident about it. How about we go against each other then? Here’s a racket. You can get the first serve. Don’t worry about me being a beginner. Huh, this is pretty normal. I was most certain tha-...The ball would be sent flying like this. Was it too quick for your eyes to catch? But it entered your coat, so I suppose that’s a score to me? Ahaha, you look frustrated. You really do put your all into everything you do, huh. Winning or losing something like this has no effect on your future so you really could just tone it down a little, you know. Ah, stop right there. Let me take a guess as to what you’re going to say right now, shall I?

“At least put some effort into it if you’re doing it!” Am I right? Here’s the serve. So you want to clinch a win above all the effort you’re putting into this, yes? Even I can tell something as blatant as that, at least. That’s why I’m not slacking off on my end either.

Heh? Aiming for the corner, I see. But I won’t let something like this get past me! Now, what will you do? Heh? The loser has to comply with anything the winner says? Now, isn’t that tipping things way too into my favour? Does this mean I can do whatever I want to with you? Wait a minute, whatever I wa-...? Ah-

I’ve been had...Come on, that was really mean of you to use the opening I presented while in the middle of thought- I suppose not. It is a match after all so I suppose that’s just the strategy you chose to deploy against me. However, the same thing won’t work twice on me. Pulse, I’ve already read through your style. I now know how you react before you go in for the blow.

Sure. I’ll play along with you for as long as you want. Seeing such intense concentration on you’s not a bad sight. Plus, I’ll have to go all out if there’s a reward to reap at the end of this all!

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Haa...That’s the first time I’ve ever eaten this much in my life. Yeah, I’ve always eaten the bare minimum amount to survive. Still, that was really delicious! I thoroughly tasted the food, of course. Right, right. There’s that egg that was cooked in the Hot Springs here, right? It’s the first time I’ve ever seen such a runny egg so I was really surprised. Huh? You can make it even back home? Could you make one next time then? I’m sure it’ll taste much better if you’re the one making it. Yup, it’s a promise then. So? The futons and all are already laid out so how about we do it? I don’t know how well it’ll go since it’s my first time too, but...I’ll try my best. Yeah, I will!

So...we just have to throw these pillows at each other with all our might, yes? Huh? What’s with that face? Aren’t we going to have a pillow fight? Okay, I’ll put down the pillow first. Oh, I see. So that’s how it is! Pillow fights are something one does only on a study trip...I suppose throwing projectiles at each other with all your strength can get pretty dangerous. Other things...Oh, yes! How about aroma oil therapy? It’s normally done in pairs, right? ...You’re fine without…? I see...Well, if you say so then...Let’s sleep, I guess.

Hey? It’s still nine, there’s no way I can sleep. Besides, I won the table-tennis match we had, remember? Yup. I want to talk about a variety of things with you. Why are you laughing!? There’s nothing I’ll get out of it? It’s rewarding enough for me. Then...Where should I start…? If you had to choose between meat and fish, which would you prefer? What do you think was the most delicious among all the things we had for dinner today? Oh, maybe I should ask about what your favourite fruit is too? And is the person you li-- Huh? Oh...Is a question 101 session not something you do on a trip?

What, is this something only students do when they go on a trip together too? Aw, and here I thought up about lots of questions to ask too...It’s not me being clinical; I just want to know more about you. I want to come to like the things that you do and when it comes to the time where I want to do something for you, I wouldn’t even know where to start if I didn’t know what colour or thing you even like, don’t you think? Honestly speaking...I don’t have the confidence for this. I’m personally fine with living my life dubbed as the worst human in the world, but it’ll reflect badly on you too. Like...remember how you tugged me back by my coat back in Shinjuku? Ah...Are you embarrassed by the memory? Same here, it makes a buzzing feeling go through me when I do.

As Kageyuki Shiraishi, I never once had a mission that made me fall in love with another. That’s why I’m trying my hardest not to hurt you or our relationship. I didn’t really understand you...But, it really tickled when you told me that you didn’t hate me for what I did.. It made me happy. From that time onwards...I……

...Are you asleep, by chance? And right when I was getting all emotional too. I suppose there’s no helping it. I suppose I should sleep too. Whoa-!? What, you were awake? We’ve got an early start tomorrow. That Wagashi Store you were looking to; it seems like the popular sweets sell out fast so there might not be any left if we’re late. That’s right, I searched it up. I’d much rather see you happy than disappointed. It’s fun talking to you like this as well, but I’ll really be troubled if you overslept tomorrow because we stayed up too late talking. So how about we both turn in? Am I okay with not doing anything? But there’s nothing else left to do? I mean, earlier you- Hey? Are you the type that can’t sleep unless you’re sleeping next to someone? I mean, that’s what you’re trying to tell me by moving over to my side, right? Ahh! But I don’t think I’ll like it all that much if you’re cosying up to other guys like this too! If possible, I’d want to be the only o-

Ah- I-I see. So you only do this with the person you love. Um, hey? Can I hug you…?

Warm...It’s almost as if this isn’t real. My name, my feelings, my everything. It feels as if everything has been resetted and I’m living for yet another one of my goals. That was how I’ve been made to be. But yet, you...you called out my name. You’d come after me no matter how much I tried to put distance between us and you wouldn’t give up even after how much I hurt you. Why...Would you go so far for someone like me… You’re really...such an idiot...There’s no saving you. But that’s what makes you, you. And...all so...precious.

I’m not crying! But, if I did...it’s your fault. You moved my empty heart and made it overflow. But, I guess that’s proof that I’m human.

It was really fun today. I’m sure tomorrow will be fun since I’ll be together with you. I think I’ll laugh lots, be entranced by you and then fall even harder. There are still a good load of things out there that I don’t know so I might cause you some problems when the time comes, but…

You’ll wait? No hesitation; what a speedy reply. Then, can I test out the limits of your words? Not just today and tomorrow, but even the days after that. I think that nothing will bring me more happiness than you staying by my side from now on and forever. But, I suppose I’ll have to study more for that to happen, don’t I? I’ll say it properly, one day. When I’m finally able to bring joy into your life with my own hands. So, won’t you wait a little more? Even if it’s just a little happy dream that I have in my head. I will definitely return to you. Now, maybe we should really sleep. I pray that I’ll wake up to you beside me. Good night and see you tomorrow.

Shiraishi Kageyuki, Kimura Ryouhei.

#Collar X Malice #Collar X Malice Unlimited #Collar X Malice -Unlimited-#CxM #Otome #Otomate #Drama CD #Translations #commissions #comission #Translation comission #Shirayuki #Shiraishi Kageyuki #Kimura Ryohei

79 notes · View notes

chocoluckchipz · 4 years

Text

Will You Help Me, Marinette?

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

Halfway into her walk to work, Marinette’s phone chimed. An amused smile tugged at her lips. A new record. Usually, he’d text her first thing upon waking up. Had been for years. She was already starting to suspect something had happened.

Adrien: Help!

She rolled her eyes. If it were anyone else, she’d panic. But it was Adrien, an overgrown man-child to whose overly dramatic, exaggerated ways she was used to by now.

Marinette: I’m bringing you croissants. Don’t worry.

Adrien: U rock!

Adrien: But that’s not it. Can I ask you for a favour?

She stopped at the lights, looking around for cars and quickly ran across the street.

Marinette: Coffee? I’m about to walk by our café.

Adrien: Thanks, but not today. My photoshoot relocated at the last moment, so I won’t be in until much later in the day.

Adrien: I’ll still meet you at our cafe for lunch. Don’t order without me.

Marinette: :thumbs-up:

One end of her scarf got loose and seeing as Adrien was still typing, Marinette stole a moment to fix it, swaddling her neck away from the crispiness of cool air on the early April morning.

Adrien: Marinette, you’re my best friend and the luckiest girl I know, and you’re super smart and creative, so if anyone, you’d know what to do, and I really can use help now in something super important.

Adrien::puppy eyes: Please?

She didn’t bother suppressing a giggle, attracting a few glances from a morning crowd around her. Turning the corner, Marinette inhaled a warm aroma of fresh baked goods from a nearby café. She grew up and still lived in a bakery. She should've been used to this kind of thing. Yet this one was special. It was close to Gabriel’s office, and Adrien and she loved to frequent it during their lunches.

One of the servers waved at her, wishing her a good day. Marinette waved back, asking how their new kitten was adjusting. A brief exchange later, she walked on, a buzzing device in her hand reminding her of an unintentionally abandoned friend.

Adrien: T_T

Adrien: Are you ignoring me?

Adrien: Five minutes had passed. No answer. :sobbing:

Adrien: I thought we were friends? Friends help each other.

Adrien: …

Adrien: You do still like me, right?

She couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Such a drama queen and an incorrigible dork. Though, no one would ever believe her if she’d say that out loud that because in the public eye a supermodel, part-time CEO of a fashion empire Adrien Agreste was perfect in every sense of this word. Only his closest friends knew better.

Marinette: I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness. I was distracted by Pierre. How can I help you?

Adrien: :D You like me after all!

Marinette: I wouldn’t put up with your insufferable antics otherwise. Now, spill because I’m about to walk into the office and you’ll lose me five minutes after that.

Adrien: Okay.

Adrien: So…

Adrien: I’ve decided…

Adrien: To confess to the love of my life.

Marinette froze in her path, her heart sinking. Tightening her grip on her cellphone, she stared at the screen in shock. Adrien was in love with someone? Why didn’t she know about that? They’ve been friends for years, so how did she miss that the love of her life was in love with someone else? Her quickening-its-pace heart ached as Adrien continued to type.

Adrien: I tried to confess to her on my own many times but chickened out every single one of them because I’m terrified of ruining what we already have if she doesn’t feel the same for it’s amazing and wonderful and absolutely beautiful, but I’m also at a point where I NEED more. It’s getting too hard to be just a friend.

Adrien: So, I’m risking it and I need you to help me. As my oldest and best-est friend ever you must help me. Please, say you’ll help me?

A knife Adrien didn’t know he’d stuck into her heart twisted, ripping through tender flesh. Marinette bit on her tongue and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She needed a moment before she could reply, so walking into Gabriel’s building, she proceeded to the elevator and didn’t check her phone until she was safely in her office, settled in her chair.

Adrien: Marinette?

Adrien: I hope I didn’t ask for too much. You’re the only one I can trust with this.

Adrien: If you’d rather not, though, it’s fine. I’ll figure this out somehow.

Adrien: Are you upset with me? I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would be a big deal.

Adrien: … Please, say something.

Marinette read over the messages a few more times before dropping her head in her hands, propped on the table. This hurt. It ripped and crushed and devastated her, but as much as she’d love to run away and scream her pain out right now, Adrien was her friend first of all, and as his friend, she’d be supportive of him even if it hurt her.

Marinette: Sorry. I got distracted on my way. In my office now, so you have my full attention.

Adrien: T_T Don’t scare me like this. I already thought you hated me.

Marinette: Why would I hate you?

Adrien: Idk. Just a thought. So, you’re in?

Marinette: Are you sure you want me involved? Love confessions are kind of personal.

Adrien: Mari, please. I’m twenty-three. I don’t want to die an old maiden because I’m too chicken to confess to the most amazing, gorgeous girl around.

Marinette stared at the phone. She was also twenty-three, and ten of those years, she’d spent loving Adrien. All in vain, it seemed now. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret a single moment because Adrien had been brightening her days ever since their mothers became friends at a random book club meeting all those years back. She couldn’t desert him now, even if she wanted to.

Swearing under her breath, she cursed her inability to say No to him once again and typed.

Marinette: Alright. Let’s start with the name of the lucky lady.

Adrien: Can’t tell you.

Marinette: Seriously?

Adrien: Yes.

Marinette: How can I help you if I don’t know who she is?

Adrien: Keep me accountable. Bug me until I confess. Remind me every freaking minute that I can do it. Idk, threaten me or something. We’ve been friends for what? Almost fifteen years now? You know how I work and how to make me do things. That’s why I’m begging you and not Nino.

Marinette wished he’d asked Nino instead because helping Adrien confess to some girl was the least of Marinette’s desires.

Marinette: It’s going to be hard to suggest anything specific if I don’t know who she is, but fine. We’ll think of something. I get the front row seat at the wedding, though.

She wanted nothing less but Adrien couldn’t know that.

Adrien: Thank you! I’ll save you the best seat in the house… IF she accepts.

Marinette: Oh, please! You’ve got looks and money. Who would refuse you?

Adrien: See, that’s the issue: she knows me too well. She won’t be swayed by my looks or money. T_T Why do you think I’ve been stalling?

Marinette: Your dorkiness is finally catching up with you?

Adrien: Meanie.

Marinette: :P I’m sure everything will be fine. Now, is there anything you can tell me about her?

Adrien: She works at Gabriel.

Marinette tried to swallow the knot in her throat. Of course. Adrien must be in love with one of the models. He worked amongst the most beautiful girls in France every day, and who was Marinette? A junior designer in his father’s company? Not ugly or a failure per se but she was nothing to be proud of also. Marinette was just a girl whom he’d known her for most of his life and whose every fault he’d witness more than she’d like to admit. Nothing new and exciting to catch his attention. She was an idiot to ever dare to dream of him.

Yet, gritting her teeth together and pushing the thought aside, Marinette typed a response because he was her friend and he needed her help.

Marinette: You can ask her out to lunch for starters? Take her to our cafe. I’m sure she’d love it there.

Adrien: …

Adrien: But we always have our lunches together. I can’t betray you like that.

Marinette: I’ll be fine. I have a few designs I need to finish today, so I’ll eat at the work cafeteria.

Adrien: They don’t have your favourite.

Marinette: I can survive one lunch without an eclair. Or I can call Alya and meet up with her.

Adrien: Shoot. Gtg. Ttyl.

Marinette: Good luck.

Adrien: <3

Marinette put the phone away. dropping her head onto the table. They’ve been so close for years. How could she have missed that Adrien was in love with someone? Was she that blinded by her own feelings for him? If she wasn’t, maybe then she would’ve noticed and could’ve prepared herself and not feel this excruciating pain in her chest now.

Her phone chimed again. This time it was Alya, reminding her of their Friday night plans. Marinette briefly responded, not paying close attention to what she was saying, adding an invitation for lunch at the end. Not that she was eager to be in anybody’s company today, but it was better than sitting alone and obsessing over who Adrien’s lady-love was. She knew herself and right now she needed a distraction not to fall apart. So, pushing misery aside, Marinette pulled her work files and started on finalizing her sketches due by the end of the day.

Closer to noon, Adrien texted again. As he always did.

Adrien: Guess who’s all done and who’s so nervous about today, it showed in pictures and drove my photographer insane?

She bitterly chuckled. Classic Adrien.

Marinette: Nothing to be bragging about. I thought you were a professional?

Adrien: I am. That’s why I’m done already. All you have to do is to imagine spaghetti. :3

Marinette: Dork.

Adrien: Proudly so.

Adrien: Marinette, thank you. I REALLY appreciate you being with me on this one. Honestly, I just can’t do this alone, and I wanted to do this for so long now, I’m desperate. So, your help means a lot.

I don’t want to help you, Marinette grumbled to herself.

That’s what friends are for, right? she wrote instead.

Adrien: She’s just so amazing, it terrifies me to lose her, but I can’t imagine myself being with anyone else. We’re perfect for each other. I hope you’ll agree with me once you’ll see who I’m talking about.

Adrien: Okay, I’m downstairs. I’ll drop by after I see Father.

Marinette: Cool. See you soon.

She put her phone on the desk, pushing her designs away. Tears, successfully withheld by the distraction of work, surfaced at the corners of her eyes, as the reality of what was going on hit again. Adrien was in love with someone and that person wasn’t her despite Marinette’s most daring hopes because otherwise, Adrien wouldn’t be asking her for help.

Someone opened the door, walking in without an invitation. Marinette quickly wiped away the lingering moisture in her eyes. Adrien couldn’t see her crying or he’d know she was less than happy about this confession of his. She was heartbroken, but for his sake, she'd keep a brave face and smile until the end.

“Lila?”

“Didn’t except me?” The woman walked closer and settled in a chair opposite Marinette, a mug of coffee in her hand.

“Not really,” Marinette replied coldly. She hated Lila for lies and manipulations. Why M Agreste hired her as a model was beyond her. “What do you want?”

“I’ve come to warn you,” Lila said, ceremonially checking her nails.

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “About what?”

Lila smirked, putting her mug down on a table. “Adrien and I are going public today, and we’d like you to stay out of it.”

Marinette inwardly growled. There was no way that could’ve been true! Yes, Lila was not so subtly trying to get Adrien’s attention for a while now, but as far as Marinette knew, Adrien was tolerating her antics only out of innate politeness and kindness of his heart, not affection.

“You’re lying,” she seethed. “Adrien had never mentioned—”

“That’s because he knew you don’t like me, and he wanted to spare your feelings since you’re his friend and all.” Lila shrugged. “But we’ve been secretly dating for a while now. Not anymore, though.” She smirked. “Adrien’s taking me out for lunch on our first official date today. But, to make it easier for everyone, I thought I’d warn you”—Lila’s face became stone-cold, her voice and glare matching—“stay out of my boyfriend’s life or you’ll regret it, Marinette.”

“What if I won’t?” Marinette barked without thinking twice. “He’s my friend. I have a right to—"

“You have absolutely no rights when it comes to my boyfriend.”

“I won’t believe it until I hear it from him personally.”

“You shall see it on the news tonight."

Lila’s sly smile promised nothing good as she stood up, picked up her coffee, and turned around to leave. Her hand swayed. Marinette’s blood ran cold because the mug in Lila’s hands tipped over, all of the coffee inside spilling all over Marinette’s desk, her sketches and her outfit. “Oops! Clumsy me.”

“You!” Marinette rushed to save what she could of her work.

“Stay away from Adrien or this will only be the start,” Lila whispered, leaning closer. “He’s mine.”

“Oh my gosh! What happened here? Marinette, are you alright?” Adrien suddenly appeared by her side.

“Adrien,” Lila cooed. “You’re just in time. We have to help Marinette. She spilled her coffee all over her hard work.” She picked up a few coffee-drenched papers, making a show out of trying to save them. “You’re such a klutz, girl. Let me help you before you do any more damage.”

Marinette glared at Lila, pressing her lips into a thin line.

“Marinette, are you okay?” Adrien took her by the shoulders and turned to face him.

“Of course, she isn’t,” Lila interfered. “Just look at her: the poor thing’s all soaked. And doesn’t she look pale to you? She might be getting sick. We should ask your father to give her a day off. Or better yet send someone to do that. We don’t want to be late for lunch. I'll go call someone.”

The moment Lila stepped out of the room, Marinette looked at Adrien and asked, “Are you really taking her out for lunch?”

Adrien pressed his lips together, looking away as he nodded.

Lost for words, lost for actions, lost for anything, all Marinette could do was to stare at the ground.

“It’s not—��

“Oh my gosh! Marinette, what happened?” Alya pushed Adrien to the side and took her friend by her shoulders. “You’re all soaked.”

“Found her wandering down the hall,” Lila looped her hand around Adrien’s arm. “She’s here to pick up Marinette for lunch which reminds me that we need to go now or we’ll be late for our reservation. The girls can take care of this mess by themselves, right Marinette?”

Marinette wanted nothing more than to slap Lila and take Adrien away. He deserved so much better! How could he fall for Lila? Didn’t he see what kind of a person Lila was? Didn’t he know how she felt about her? How could he ask her advice on this? Tears pooled in her eyes. Adrien was her best friend. She loved him, but this hurt too much. It felt too much as a betrayal, and if Adrien cared for her so little as to ask her for advice on how to woo her enemy, then Marinette didn’t want him to see how much that pained her.

“I’ll be fine with Alya.” Marinette turned away to gather her papers. “This is my mess; I’ll clean it up. You should go.”

“What’s going on here?” Gabriel Agreste himself appeared behind them.

“Marinette spilled coffee all over herself and her work,” Lila rushed to explain.

“Father, I think—”

“You should clean up and take a day off,” Gabriel interceded. “I’ll give you an extension on those. Now, Adrien. Why are you still here? Don’t you have lunch to go to?”

Adrien glanced at Marinette, then to his father. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, I do.”

"Then off you go. Mlle Dupain-Cheng would be fine without you.”

“Right.” Adrien reached forward to lightly touch Marinette’s elbow. “I’ll call you later,” he mouthed and walked out the room with Lila Rossi on his arm.

Adrien didn’t contact her until the very evening when exhausted from the day, Marinette put the work she took home away and went for a stroll.

Adrien: Hey. Sorry, I had a few things to settle. How are you?

She closed her eyes for a moment, before looking back at the Seine. The gentle lure of waves calmed. It mesmerized and relaxed. Marinette always came here when she was stressed, or tired, or needed a pick me up. She couldn’t explain it, but there was something soothing and healing about gazing at the passing-by waters of the Seine. Her own safe haven, a little oasis in the desert of stress and chaos. Today, Marinette needed it more than ever.

Adrien: Marinette? Is everything okay?

No. Nothing was okay, and she’d rather not talk to him now, but… years of friendship and her treacherous heart demanded otherwise. He hurt her, but it was also him, who she wanted to comfort her right now. Pathetic, she knew that, but better texts than face to face.

Marinette: Everything’s fine. Taking a walk.

Adrien: Where are you off to?

Marinette: [image 1509]

Adrien: Pont des Arts?

Marinette: You know your Paris well.

Adrien took five minutes to reply, but when he did, he did so in person. “I know you well. You always come here when you need to calm down or to think things over.”

Marinette whipped around. Adrien was standing just a few meters away. Trying to catch his breath, he ran his hands through his dishevelled hair to fix it back in somewhat decent shape.

“Adrien? What are you doing here?”

“I need to ask you something.” He walked closer, stopping only when Marinette was pressed flash against the bridge, his hands on either of her sides, his face inches from hers. "Why didn't you expose her?”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t spill that coffee. Lila did. And don’t even try to deny it. You never bring drinks in your office unless it’s in an air-tight container because you think you’re too clumsy.”

Marinette shifted her eyes to the side. “I am clumsy.”

“Just a tiny, adorable amount. Nothing serious.” He cocked his head to the side. “So? Why did you let her get away with it?”

Marinette looked away. She hated Lila and Adrien knew that. What did he expect her to say? Why did he even come here? He should go back to that liar girlfriend of his.

“It’s so unlike you. I want to know what’s going on.”

She didn't know what to answer him, so she remained silent.

“Marinette, please? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then look me in the eyes and repeat that.”

She tried and failed. Adrien sighed and pulled her into his arms, whispering into her ear. “Marinette, please. Why did you allow her to walk all over you? You never did that before. What’s happened? You know I won’t leave you alone until you tell me.”

She closed her eyes. The gentle tone of his voice, the comforting wrap of his arms around her, his body’s warmth so close to hers… It stirred those damn butterflies at the pit of her belly, ripping through her heart at the same time… because he’d betrayed her. He’d fallen in love with the only girl whose guts Marinette hated more than anything and there was nothing either of them could do because who could control their heart? Adrien couldn’t help loving who he did… which, however, didn’t mean he could be so inconsiderate of her. He knew she hated Lila!

“Marinette?”

She pushed him away. It hurt to remain in his embrace any longer.

“Mari…”

“Leave me alone. Go to your girlfriend.”

His eyes widened as he stared at her in shock. “My girlfriend?”

“Lila.”

“Lila?!”

“Yes, Lila,” Marinette huffed, turning her back to him, her face to the Seine. “Can’t believe you had the audacity to ask me of all people for advice on that. You know how I feel about her!”

Her eyes focused on the rolling waves as Marinette waited for an answer that didn’t come for a few moments and not until Adrien walked to stand beside her, searching her face with his eyes.

“Just to make sure I understood you correctly: you think I’m in love with Lila?”

“Aren’t you? You took her to lunch just as you said you would.”

Adrien laughed, leaning on his arms to rest on the bridge. “Marinette, you know me better than that. I took Lila to lunch only because my father blackmailed me to do so.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “A likely story.”

“No, really. He said Lila dug some dirt on him and her price for silence was me. And Father, knowing you’re my friend, threatened to fire you if I won’t comply.”

Marinette looked at him, her eyebrows knitted into a frown. “What?”

“Don’t worry, your job is safe, and I made it clear to both of them that I’m not taking part in any of their bullshit. If Father wants her silence, he’d better pay for it some other way.” Gently, Adrien cupped her shoulder, turning Marinette to face him. “Seeing what she did to you… it made me angry. I wanted nothing more than to protect you at that moment, and the best way to do that was to deal with the cause once and for all. So, I trusted Alya to take care of you, and I went with Lila only to ensure she won’t be troubling you again. And after that, I visited Father and we had a long talk about the situation. He won’t be bothering either of us again as well.”

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds before muttering without thinking. “What did you do?”

“Nothing significant. I explained to Father how serious I was about quitting Gabriel the moment you’re fired and we both know he can’t afford me walking out. Not with me owning half of the company in my mother's shares. Lila, though, was harder to get through. She kept dismissing me until I pretty much avenged you. Then she got the message loud and clear.”

As in a haze, she echoed, “What did you do?”

Adrien grinned. “I might have placed my plate of spaghetti in a strategic place for it to be accidentally tipped over and end up all over Lila.”

Marinette gasped. “What?!”

His grin widened. “I only placed it in the spot. She did all the job herself, and”—he leaned closer—“there might have been a reporter close by and he might have taken pictures if you are interested.”

“What? How?”

Adrien chuckled. “Lila hired someone to ‘witness’ and report on our ‘first date’. The guy reached out to me later to see if I wanted to buy the embarrassing pictures of ‘my girlfriend’ from him. I wasn’t interested, but I saved his card in case you are.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, then erupted with laughter. “You’re horrible.”

“She deserved so much more after what she did to you.”

“Still, spaghetti?”

“Just using her own methods against her, and only because she wouldn’t listen to me when I was nice.”

Marinette chuckled. “Dork.”

“And you like me that way, don’t you?”

“I do,” she smiled, relaxing against the railing. She looked up at the stars and breathed in. So many worries for nothing. She should've trusted Adrien more.

“Marinette?”

She hummed, turning to him.

He looked hesitant, moving closer. “Were you jealous?”

Marinette squeaked, her face flaring crimson, as she shook her head. “No! Why would I be jealous? I—”

“You looked like you were jealous.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Her face burned hotter with every moment.

Adrien chuckled before turning serious and reaching out to cup her face in his hands. His touch, gentle and warm, sent electrical current down Marinette’s body. He slowly started to lean in. Her eyes widened with realization, fluttering close the moment his lips hesitantly brushed against hers.

“The girl I’m in love with is you, Marinette,” Adrien whispered, searching her face for a reaction. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I’m the fool who couldn’t find the courage to confess to you for years without asking you to keep me accountable because I’m terrified my feelings will ruin our friendship, but I can’t keep it in anymore. I love you, Marinette.”

Dumbfounded, Marinette stared back at him wide-eyed. “Me? You love me?”

His lips tugged in a hopeful smile as he nodded. "Will you give me a chance? I promise I’ll make you happy if you’ll let me be more than just a friend.”

Marinette forgot how to breathe. “Adrien—I… I don’t understand. You said—I thought—”

She froze, seeing his face saddened, and shook her head. No! What was she doing? She’d dreamed of this moment for years and now that it was finally here, why was she stalling?

He slowly pulled his hands away.

She couldn’t let him misunderstand her even if her reaction was puzzling to her herself, so she grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him down, crushing her lips against his.

Adrien stilled. Then wrapped his arms around her and angled his head to deepen the kiss. She let him press forward, pushing her against the railing of the bridge as their lips moved heatedly in tandem, years of pinned-up love and desire spilling out. It was only when the air became a necessity, she pulled away breathless and smiled at him.

“I love you too, Adrien. Have been for years.”

His face lit up.

“And just like you, I was too scared to confess. Looks like we’re both hopeless idiots.”

Adrien pulled her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he pressed a lingering kiss to a patch of exposed skin he found there.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he whispered.

“You could’ve if you’d asked,” Marinette replied, running her fingers through his hair.

He leaned into her touch, almost purring from the pleasure. “Can I now?”

“Yes.”

He growled lowly, tightening his hold on her. “Mine.”

She giggled, wrapping her hands around his neck. “Possessive much?”

“Very.” He grinned. “Marinette?” Without letting her go, Adrien pulled a key with a ladybug keychain on it out from his pocket. “Will you also consider moving in with me?”

“What?” Marinette blinked. “Right away?”

He shrugged. “It’s not like we need time to get to know each other better. We grew up together. We know what makes us tick and what we like. Why wait?”

Marinette smiled. Adrien was right. They did know each other well. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t dreamed of sharing her days, her nights, her happy and sad moments, her dreams and fears, her life, her everything with him for years. Why wait indeed? “I’d love to move in with you.”

Adrien grinned harder and pulled her in for another kiss. Slow and sweet, filled with longing, and need, and desire.

“In that case,” he added, his voice raspy as he drew away and, pulling a small box out of his pocket, dropped on one knee. “Will you also consider marrying me?”

Marinette gasped as Adrien revealed a gorgeous ring inside.

“Adrien, you’re insane. What are you doing?”

“I thought I’ll ask everything in one go,” he admitted. “It took me years to confess, and I don’t want to wait that long for the next step. So why not? We can have a long engagement if you want, or you can say No now and I’ll ask again la—”

“No, you really are insane,” Marinette kneeled beside him, cupping his cheeks and kissing him slowly. “How can I say No to you?”

He grinned. “Is that a Yes then?”

“That’s a Yes.”

He held her gaze for a few moments, giving her that goofy, happy smile of his before shaking off his stupor and sliding the ring on her finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my life.”

“Me too.”

“I already looked up hamsters in my local pet store. They’re keeping a few for us to choose from until next week,” Adrien murmured. “You did want a hamster, right? Three kids and a hamster. We'll start with the hamster and add kids later—"

Marinette laughed and grabbed him by his coat’s collar again, pulling him closer.

“As much as I’d love to talk kids and hamsters with you,” she whispered. “Right now, I need you to kiss me senseless. Leave the rest for later.”

A lovesick smile tugged at his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Marinette echoed, weaving her arms around his neck, losing herself to the caresses of the man she loved more than anything.

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrinette #mlb #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #fluff #dorks #miscommunications #but quickly solved #engagement #short #shortstory

144 notes · View notes